#found... another game and ive barely been able to focus on anything else

[iknowwhatthatis]

god im so sorry to post a bunch then suddenly disapeared

[wornoutmouse]

This is for someone i meet on horny weeb tiktok i might not have finished haikyuu but iv met nishinoya in the anime so i think i can do this.

warning: overstimulation

You guys had just finished a practice game and everybody was in high spirits. As usual you waited for your boyfriend with some water and a towel. "You guys did good Nishi!" Nishinoya glanced at you with a tired smile as he got closer, "Yeah but we only won by two points." You pursed your lips and shook your head, "That only means that they were worthy opponents!" Nishinoya laughed at you and smiled in a way that made you warm.

"Your always know what to say huh?" You smirk, "Of course I do sugar, now reward me with a kiss!" You leaned down a bit to give your boyfriend access to your lips. You two didn't have a major height difference but it was big enough to cause a little strain when you were trying to be intimate. "Man I've already worked so hard today now I gotta work harder just to kiss my girlfriend?!" You laugh scratching behind your ear. Just then Tsukishima and Yamaguchi walk by, "Ha with proportions like that it's no wonder you can't satisfy her Yū!" Snickered Tsuki.

Nishinoya's eye twitched at that comment but chose to ignore it. You on the other hand didn't, "Not everybody can be Jolly the green giant like you Tsu!" Tsukishima rolled his eyes and kept walking. Nishinoya out a hand on your shoulder making you jump, "No worries babe that's just how he shows affection let's go home kay!?" You smiled, "You know I gotta protect you, he shouldn't have made that comment!" You and Nishinoya started walking towards the gym parking lot. "I mean it's not your fault your short!"

You didn't notice it but Nishinoya had stopped walking and was blankly staring at you as your searched for your keys in your purse. "Found em!" You say cheerfully twirling then around your finger. Nishinoya did nothing but nod and hop into the car. All the way home he was quite only responding to your questions and stories with "hmm" and "yeah". You were confused but just wrote it off to him being really tried after a lengthy game. You walked into the house kicking your shoes off and did a big stretch as you made your way into your room. You turn around and yelp tripping backwards onto the bed. "Nishi you scared me!"

Nishinoya didn't say anything at first as he slowly plopped into your lap gazing at you intently. "You want cuddles? Is that why you were so grumpy in the car." Nishinoya slightly nodded after thinking before grabbing your face and kissing you slowly. You moaned into the kiss and doing your best to resist grabbing Nishinoya's waist cause you knew that made him laugh. Nishinoya pushed you down to lay back sliding his hands down your arms before positioning them above your head.

You took no notice to this because this was his favorite position, what you did notice however was the steel coolness wrapping around your wrists and the loud and clear sound of of something locking in place. "Nishinoya what are you....?" You bring your hands in your eye view as Nishinoya climbed off of you, going into the closest. You looked at the silver cuffs that were now delicately around your wrist. The way Nishinoya had cuffed them made you unable to bring your hands lower than your breasts. "What's going on babe?" You asked with caution as your boyfriend walked towards the bed holding something purple and small.

"Back in the gym.....Tsu said that I couldn't please you." You nodded recalling that momment. "Are you still mad at that Nishi? Don't listen to what he says you know he's a tease!" Nishinoya hummed as if acknowledging what you said but you could tell by the far away look in his eye that what you said went through one ear and out the other. "But you said it's not my fault becuase i was so short." You flexed in the cuffs swallowing shallowly as Nishinoya's gaze hardened as he made eye contact with you. "Nishinoya.. You know i didn't mean it like that, come on babe."

Nishinoya raised his hands to caress your face, "You know I'm not going to hurt you right?" He asked voice wavering in slight hurt. You hurriedly nodded your head, "Of course not i just want to let you know that I didn't mean it like that!" He nodded at your confession before staring down at the small object in his possession, "You hurt my feelings Y/N, so you need to be punished. What's your color?" Your eyes widened and your heart stuttered in anticipation.  Months ago you asked Nishinoya if he wanted to dable in more extreme things now to finally get it has you excited.

"Green." Nishinoya nodded grabbing hold of your pants and pulling them down. Gingerly he cupped your warmth making you sigh at the slight stimulation. All during this Nishinoya never lost eye contact with you. "So you think I can't satisfy you?" You shook your head as he began grinding his palm into your clothed entrance. "No I think your right, I can't because I'm too short right?" He slid his hands to the side of your panties before pulling them to the side stroking your folds watching as he gathered your arousal before bringing them to his mouth licking them off. "I love you Y/N, and I hate that I've been leaving you.... unsatisfied this whole time."

Nishinoya then brought the small object up to your pussy running it slowly up and down before rubbing your clit with it making you draw shuttered gasps bucking your hips slightly. There was a long while of this till you were borderline whining from the bare minimum stimulation you were receiving, "Nishi please I need you!" Nishinoya stopped but he wasn't looking at you this time but staring intently at your nether regions. "Unfortunately i can't please you but i do have something that can." You feel the object slick with your fluids, push into you and you whine at the intrusion.

Nishinoya stood up and looked at you before pulling his phone out and snapping a picture muttering, "So pretty..." He hopped through his phone a little more making you grow needy, "Nishi-" you choked on your words as a slow but firm vibration reverberated throughout your body.

A vibrator

Your moaned lowly as you watched Nishinoya leave the room while the volumes of vibrations varied. When he came back into the room it was with a chair. Turning it backwards he sat down leaning forward on the back of it. "To make up for your troubles I'm going to make you feel good Y/N.'" you nod face heating up at how determined he gazed at your pussy. "Does it feel good?" You nodded, "M-More plea-ase." Nishinoya have a smile that was ment to be comforting but to you it only gave a chill before he slowly made the vibrator turn up. You bucked sightly into the toy as your tried to hold back your moans earning yourself a small slap on your leg, Nishinoya pouted, "I want to hear you babe, how will I know you feel good if I don't hear you?" You smiled cause your can't argue with that logic and allowed yourself to let your sounds slip.

Nishinoya stroked your inner thigh as he watched your face contort as you slowly got closer to the edge. Once you were on the brink he turned the vibrator up at full max making you arch your back and let out a breathy yelp was you came. Nishinoya took his finger and played with your release laughing. "Was that good babe?" You nodded smiling too as you shifted in the cuffs. "I'm sorry if i hurt your feelings babe i promise not to-" you squeak as the vibrator to full max. "Well i can't only give you 'one' orgasm." Nishinoya said standing up walking towards your head along the bed. He leaned down towards your face and bringing his hand up to start stroking your hair being careful of your new braids.

"After all-" he said slideing his hands down to grip your chin forcefully making you look up at him. "Imagine all the orgasms I didn't give you from being so, so, short." Nishinoya played with his phone as he walked back to where he sat making the vibrator go from lowest to highest repeatedly making it almost simulate like you were being penetrated. You moan with sensitivity wanting it to go away yet wanting it to continue. "Nishi!" You groaned eyes closing as you reached your second orgasm. Thinking it would be over you opened your eyes to look at your boyfriend heart stopping cold at the lustful look in his eyes. He had the same intensity as he had during his games now focused entirely on you.

You gasped eyes sightly rolling back as the vibrator continued feeling almost as if the intensity got higher. "Does that feel good Y/N? Is it doing better than me?" Shook your head as the vibration lessened, "Do you not need me anymore? It's this all you need to help your reach your end?" You were silent unable to focus on his questions, "WELL IT'S IT Y/N!?" Nishi said voice sightly raised as he made or the vibrator once again. You gurgled unable to responed trying to close your legs to muffle the strength of the vibration. All you heard was a slight tsk from Nishinoya as he got up from his chair. He opened your legs slotting himself in between them pulling your panties the rest of the way off marvelling at how sparkly they were from your own release.

"You got to keep your legs open sweetie how else will I be able to please you." Nishinoya said in a teasing manor but his face stayed cold. "It's too m-m-much." You groaned as another orgasm pushed through you causing you to shake as it came over you. "I know... But it's my turn now. You think you can do that for me?" Not really registering the words being said to you as you felt the vibrator turn down a fraction. You shutter as you felt the head of Nishinoya's hard cock stroke along your folds gathering your juices. After a while he finally decided to push in sighing. "Ah your so messy for me huh... Well i guess not me since you don't need me to make you feel good huh?" he growled slowly rocked into you. The veins of his dick began grazing your g-spot not quite touching but just enough to make you orgasm once again. "Wow you came again baby does the vibrator feel that good?" You shook your head no before sluggishly trying to find his hands holding them, "You feel good N-Nisji."

You couldn't see it but his eyes widened at the confession before a smile shakily came over his face this time, it was genuine. "Ahh your doing so good for me baby, that's my girl. I'm going to try to go fast do you think you got one more in you cookie?" "Yes Nishi~" you moan as Nishinoya began to pick up the pace shallowly thrusting in and out of you making obscene noises from your previous orgasms. "Your squeezing me so hard cookie." Nishinoya moaned layibg over you picking up the pace and fucking you brutally holding onto your hand grounding you to this moment.

The pleasure was unimaginable as your eyes prickled with tears at the overstimulation. "I'm... Coming!" Nishinoya groans as he give 6 hard thrusts into you coming inside before turning the vibrator on max and rubbing your clit counterclockwise bringing you to your fifth and final orgasm.

You both still, breathing hard as Nishinoya turns the vibrator off. Nishinoya looks at you stroking your face with a laugh. "Was that good?" You nod slowly still not quite precessing. You could feel Nishinoya pull out of you and your wince making him stutter it a quick sorry. For a while your hear nothing but the sounds of the shower turning on. After a while you feel yourself being lifted off the bed with a small stumble before being set in a pool of warm steamy water. As you drift in and out of sleep you feel Nishinoya wash your back while holding up your box braids and doing his best to clean you out while maintaining little too no contact with your sensitive folds. Getting you out the bathtub he brings you back to the bed and lotioning you up with cocoa butter and slipping your lightest night gown over your shoulders.

After a minute he sits you up handing you a pill and a small cup of water. "You wouldn't let me pull out I'm sorry." You shrug lightly not really caring. While Nishinoya wouldn't mind a kid or two you weren't quite ready yet stating you wanted to work a little while longer so he respected your choices. Handing him the cup back watching him drink some water himself you open your arms wanting to hug him. He chuckled quietly before complying lying in your arms pulling the cover over the two of you and you fell into blissful peace.

[theundercovermarvelfan]

Whumptober 2020 - Day 8

Boom! Caught up! 

Whumtober Challenge @whumptober2020

Where Did Everybody Go? “Don’t Say Goodbye” | Abandoned | Isolation

Clint would never take physical touch for granted again. 

Being sick was bad enough. Getting doused with a dangerous bioweapon in the middle of a mission was worse. Being confined to complete isolation on the medical floor of Avengers Tower was just plain miserable. 

Clint had been dangerously sick for the first five days after his exposure. He honestly didn’t remember much of those days, having spent the majority of his time either unconscious or in a fevered delirium. Tony and Bruce had finally been able to synthesize an antidote of sorts, and Clint was finally on the mend, though it was still too risky to expose any of the other Avengers to the manufactured virus. 

Clint still felt rundown with a nasty cough -- mostly he felt like he had a bad strain of the flu at this point -- but being stuck alone in this painfully sterile hospital room was starting to get to him. It honestly took a few days to figure out why he was feeling so restless. He had a television that Tony had hooked up with basically any movie or tv show he could ever watch. He had a StarkPad loaded up with games. Every Avenger had donated a handful of books for him to read. The rest of the team would also drop by usually once a day or so to stand on the other side of the large window that took up most of one wall of Clint’s isolation room and chat with him for a bit, though it was difficult to keep up significant conversations with his persistent cough. He had plenty he could do to fill his time, in theory he should be well occupied.  

But as the days went on, he became more and more focused on the thick paine of glass between him and the rest of the world. 

Doctors and nurses came into his room periodically to check his vitals and administer medications, but every person had to put on a biohazard suit and go through a decontamination chamber before and after entering the room. It only added to Clint’s feeling of disconnect from the world. 

It was a week and three days after Clint’s initial infection. Clint was curled up on the bed in a nest on blankets that Natasha had brought him when out of the corner of his eye he saw a group entering the decontamination chamber attached to his room. This wasn’t anything out of the ordinary and he didn’t pay the group much attention as they entered the room. 

Because of the biohazard suits, it took Clint until he was practically leaning over him to recognize the familiar face. 

“Hey Clint,” Bruce said with a warm smile. 

Clint felt the corners of his mouth tugging up weakly. “Hey, Doc,” he rasped, his voice especially rough from disuse. He curled in further on himself as he coughed hard. 

Bruce gave him a sympathetic look. “How are you feeling?”

“Okay, I guess,” Clint mumbled with a small shrug as he automatically held out an arm to the doctor and nurse who had come in with Bruce so that they could take their usual blood sample. 

Bruce frowned though. He glanced over at the television in the room, which was off. “Have you watched anything good recently?” 

Clint glanced over at the tv as if to confirm that it was still there. “Hm. Not really.” He coughed, wheezing in a labored breath. “Nothing really good on tv I guess.”

Bruce nodded, though he looked unconvinced. He watched quietly for a minute as the doctor continued to take Clint’s vitals, Clint moving along mechanically, used to the routine. 

“Are you reading anything?” Bruce asked, eyeing the books that were still stacked neatly next to Clint’s bed. 

Clint stared blankly at the stack for a moment. He swallowed thickly. “I started that… that James Patterson book Steve brought,” he mumbled, waving a hand vaguely as he coughed weakly. “Couldn’t really get into it though.” 

“Yeah,” Bruce said distractedly. “Is there anything else you need? Anything I can bring you?”

“No, I’m fine,” Clint mumbled. Because what he wanted was to get out of this room and be able to interact normally with other people again. And he knew that Bruce couldn’t help with that. 

“Your vitals have dipped a little bit since yesterday,” the doctor reported, concerned. “Your fever went up a few degrees, your blood pressure dropped a bit.”

Clint blinked as he tried to absorb that information. “I’m getting worse?” he asked, his voice small. 

“It’s probably just a minor setback,” the doctor said briskly, though Clint couldn’t help but notice the uneasy tone in his voice. “We’ll reevaluate your medication and will likely just have to make an adjustment to get you back on track.”

Clint nodded vaguely, though his heart twisted in his chest. He had at least thought that he was getting better. But this news meant that he might have to have an even longer isolation that they had originally thought. Clint blamed his fever for the fact that he couldn’t stop tears from gathering at the corners of his eyes. 

“It’ll be okay, Clint,” Bruce assured him. “Tony and I will take another look at the antidote, see if there’s anything we can do to strengthen it, maybe be able to focus it to be more effective.”

“Yeah,” Clint murmured hoarsely, barely listening to Bruce at this point. 

He had every faith in Bruce and Tony’s ability to cure the virus. But the thought of spending any more time secluded in this room clawed at Clint’s sanity. 

“I’m going to check in with Tony,” Bruce went on. “But how about I come back and visit again in a little bit?”

At that, Clint’s gaze finally shifted to look directly at Bruce for the first time since he had first recognized him. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Okay. I’ll see you soon then.” Bruce reached out with a thickly gloved hand and gently patted Clint on the shoulder, giving him an encouraging smile before he turned and headed back out of the room. 

Clint watched him go, staring at the empty decontamination chamber for a long time. He must have dozed off at some point, because when he woke up something was different. He was painfully aware of every detail of the room after spending so much time staring at these walls, so it didn’t take much for him to notice when something was different. But even if he hadn’t, it’d be difficult to miss the overstuffed armchair that was now pushed up in the cover next to the large window that looked out into the hallway. 

Clint stared at the chair in confusion for a long time. Then, movement outside of the window caught his eye. Bruce walked into view, smiling and waving in at Clint before he reached over and activated the intercom into the room. 

“Hey,” Bruce said. “How are you feeling?” 

“‘Bout the same,” Clint rasped. 

Bruce nodded, looking at him sympathetically. “Tony is taking another look at the antidote that we create. In the meantime, I thought I might have something else that could help. Do you feel up to moving over to the chair?”

Intrigued, Clint nodded and he carefully sat pushed himself over to the edge of the bed, wrapping a blanket around himself more securely. It took an unusual amount of concentration from Clint to coordinate his movements with dragging the IV stand he was hooked up to, but he managed to cross the few steps to the chair. 

When he finally got himself situated, he looked up to find that Bruce had been arranging something in the hallway next to his window. There was now a chair and a small table sitting just on the other side of the glass. 

On the table, Bruce was setting up a chess board. 

“Do you feel up to a game?” Bruce asked. 

Clint felt the first honest to goodness smile since he had gotten sick crossing his lips. “Yeah. You might actually have a chance of winning with me off my game.”

“That’s what I’m hoping for,” Bruce said with a broad smile as he settled himself into his own chair. “White has the first move.” He indicated the white pieces that were on Clint’s side of the board. 

“Pawn to d-4,” Clint directed. Bruce reached out and made the move on the board. He paused and then moved his knight. Clint quirked an eyebrow. “Bold move.” 

“I’m feeling lucky,” Bruce said with a grin. 

Clint coughed as he thought over his strategy, his mind much more sluggish than usual. “Pawn to c-4.” 

Clint lost the first game, immediately demanding a rematch. He won the second, but he suspected that Bruce had gone easier on him. He demanded a best out of three. The third game dragged on much longer than usual, with the two remaining neck and neck most of the time until finally Clint was finally able to corner Bruce’s king. 

This quickly became a routine. Bruce came back at least three times a day in order to play chess with Clint. Natasha and Steve quickly started joining in the gameplay as well, and even Tony got in on it after a full day in his lab working on the antidote. They soon had a continuous tournament going on that only took breaks for Clint to sleep. And as the games continued, the glass between them started to seem thinner and thinner. And soon Clint found that despite the fact that he was still isolated, he was finally beginning to feel connected with the world again. 

Two days after Bruce started the chess games, Clint fever finally broke. Three days and his vitals were almost back to normal. Five days and the door to his room opened to allow Bruce, Tony, Natasha and Streve to walk into his room without biohazard suits. 

Clint eyes widened at the sight, momentarily panicked that his friends were risking getting sick. 

“Good news!” Bruce said quickly. “With your vitals improving, it seems like the original antidote was able to finally clear out the rest of the virus. It’ll still likely be a few more days until you feel fully recovered, but as of right now we’ve confirmed that you’re no longer contagious. We can officially end the isolation.”

Clint grinned widely. “Really? I can really finally leave this damn room?” 

“Yes,” Natasha confirmed, smiling. “We figured you’d want to get out of here as soon as possible, so we’ll help you pack up and move back to your room while you finish your recovery.”

“Thank you,” Clint said sincerely, glancing around at all his friends but then focusing on Bruce. “Thank you for bringing the chess set here.”

“Sometimes our own mind can be our worst enemy,” Bruce said soberly. “I could tell you felt depressed, and it could be the reason your vitals weren’t improving. I’ve always thought that when your mind is in a better place, your body is able to heal easier.”

Clint reflected on that. He had initially improved a lot when he had finally gotten an antidote, but then he had seemed to level off. It was only when Bruce had brought the chess set that he had finally started to improve again. 

Everyone was busying themselves with gathering all of Clint’s things that he made their way into the room over the last two weeks. Bruce was helping Clint up out of bed, since he was still a little unsteady mostly due to lack of moving around the last couple weeks. And feeling Bruce’s bare hands helping to support Clint, it finally hit him. 

It was over. 

“Thank you, Bruce,” Clint said quietly, leaning into his friends, just reveling in the first real physical contact in weeks. “Thanks for everything.”

[fanfics-for-the-hockey-fan]

A Bump in the Road - Morgan Rielly

Request: 44. You need to see a doctor.” Morgan Rielly

I winced as I got off the sofa, I had been feeling off for a couple of days now but I just chalked it up to my period and the cramps being extra bad this month. It didn’t help that Mo was out of town on a super long road trip and that always put me in a funk. But he was coming home today and I was ready to spend some time with him. I was picking Morgan up from the airport so I threw on some leggings and one of Morgan’s old sweatshirts. 

Getting into the car, I tried to push off the discomfort and focused on the road ahead of me. I managed to pull into the parking lot of the airport just as Morgan texted that they landed. Heading inside the small, private terminal they would be coming through I found a couple of the other girls waiting. Alannah waved me over, smiling as I sat down next to her. “Are you okay Samantha? You look a little pale.”

“Yeah.” Alannah looked like she was going to push more but the guys showed up then. I was slow to get out of the seat so Alannah said something to Morgan before going to Zach. I had just stood up by the time Morgan got to me. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too. Alannah said you don’t feel good.”

“I’m fine, it’s just cramps from my period.” Morgan grabbed his bag as we headed out to the car, I didn’t even argue with him when he motioned for the car keys. 

“You’re period isn’t for another 4 days and you only start cramping the day before. You look really pale.” I got into the passenger seat and winced as I twisted to get my seatbelt on. Morgan looked super concerned, reaching over to feel my forehead. “And you feel warm. How long have you been feeling like this?”

“A day or two. I probably just ate something bad.”

“You need to see a doctor Sam.” I really wanted to roll my eyes at him but I also knew he was just worried about me.

“I’ll get an appointment for tomorrow.” That seemed to make Morgan happy because he didn’t bring it up on the way home, letting me call to make an appointment before we cuddled on the sofa. As we caught up on tv I started to feel worse, trying to hide it from Morgan so he wouldn’t worry. That all went out the window when I stood up to get a drink and I literally swayed before falling back onto the sofa. 

“That’s it, we are going to the ER now.”

“Mo…”

“No, you just almost fainted. You need to see a doctor. Right now.” His face was as serious as I had ever seen, even when he was on the ice in a tight playoff game. “You are going to sit here while I go get pants for both of us and your purse. Then we are getting in my car and I am driving us to the hospital.” I just nodded, wincing as I moved on the sofa. Morgan left the room quickly, I could hear him down in the bedroom. He came rushing back, pulling on a sweatshirt and carrying sweatpants for me. “Do you need help getting these on while I grab your bag?” 

I just shook my head, slowly pulling on my sweatpants. I barely had both legs in the sweatpants by the time Morgan returned, carefully helping me stand up and pulling the sweatpants up before looking me in the eyes. “I have your purse with your wallet, your water bottle, some snacks, an ipad, and some headphones.” I nodded and before I could say anything Morgan picked me up and moved towards the door. He hurried us out of the apartment and down to the car, buckling me in before hurrying around to the driver's seat. I closed my eyes as Morgan started to drive, even with my eyes closed I knew he was speeding as much as he could in a big city with so many traffic lights.

Before I knew it Morgan was stopping and getting out of the car, my eyes opened to see him hurrying across the front of the car with the backpack before helping me out of the car. He had actually parked the car and was now carrying me through the parking garage to the emergency department entrance. A nurse spotted us as soon as we entered, bringing a wheelchair over for me. As much as I didn't want to admit it, the pain was much worse now and I was so out of it that Morgan had to do all the talking to get me checked in. Once that was all done we were moved back to a room and Morgan lifted me onto the bed. 

The next few minutes were a flurry of activity, a nurse getting me on an iv as a doctor came in and started to ask questions. They must have given me something for the pain because I was finally about to focus on what the doctor was saying. "Your boyfriend said that you have been having bad stomach pain for a few days now?"

"Yeah, at first I thought it was just cramping but it is much more painful than any cramp I have ever had."

"I'm going to run some tests and we will figure this out." He spoke to the nurse before leaving the room with a nod. Once the nurse was also done I turned to look at Morgan who looked terrified.

"I'm going to text Kyle and Sheldon to let them know I probably won't be at practice tomorrow." I wanted to argue but the concerned look that covered Morgan’s face was enough to stop me before I spoke up, just nodding and watching him type out a text. When that was done he put his phone away and grabbed my hand. “How are you feeling?”

“Like there is a knife in my stomach, but besides that I’m fine. How was your road trip?” Morgan raised an eyebrow, making me laugh. “It will distract me until the doctor comes back.” 

“Fine.” With that Morgan launched into a story of the shenanigans that he and his teammates got into during their trip. As Morgan was telling me about Mitch hiding Auston’s gear before a practice. The story made me laugh which caused pain that I was trying to hide from Morgan. "I'm hurting you by making you laugh. Is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable?"

“No, I think it’s just something I have to deal with until the doctor figures it out.” Morgan held onto my hand as we waited, telling me more about the road trip until the doctor came into the room around 30 minutes later.

“Ms. Kennedy, we got the results of your test back. Your appendix is about to burst. We need to get you into surgery right away. The complications if we wait too long are severe so time is of the essence. Our plan is to do it laparoscopically, that might change once we are in there. The surgery should last about an hour as long as everything goes to plan. Do you have any questions?”

“What is the recovery time?”

“You will probably have to stay in the hospital for a day or two, maybe 3 if there are any complications. You should be back to regular daily activities in 2 to 4 weeks, nothing too strenuous for the first week or so. Anything else?” We both say no, the doctor shaking both of our hands before moving towards the door. “Someone will be in shortly to prep you for surgery.”

Once he was gone I looked over at Morgan who was frozen. “Mo, it’s going to be fine.”

“It’s still surgery Samantha! Surgery always has a chance of something bad happening.”

“Wow, did you really just full first name me? I will be fine, and two days from now I will be watching you play hockey from the comfort of our bed while you kick ass on the ice. I’m gonna text my family quickly before I go back for surgery but I am going to need you to keep them up to date with what’s going on. I know they are going to want to fly out but hopefully I can convince them not to come.”

“Good luck with that.”

Morgan’s POV

I watched as Sam texted her family before the nurse came in to take her back for surgery. “I’ll see you once soon. I love you so much.”

“I love you too Mo.” I kissed her forehead and then her lips before they wheeled her bed away. Another nurse showed me to a waiting room where I would be out of the way and they would know where to find me. I was texting an update to Samantha’s family when someone bumped into my legs. It annoyed me when they just stood there then, not apologizing. I looked up and saw Fred and Auston standing there with coffee and a bag of food.

“What are you guys doing here?”

“Sam texted us and said you might need some company. So we brought coffee and snacks." They sit on either side of me, handing me a coffee before pulling out some sandwiches. “How long is the surgery supposed to take?”

“Hopefully an hour. Thank you guys for coming.”

“Of course, Sam’s family too.” Freddie says handing me a sandwich. Auston and Fred kept me distracted for the whole time as we waited for the doctor to come out. I started to get antsy when the hour mark passed. As we got closer to two hours I was pacing the waiting room. “Mo, sit down. I’m sure they will be out soon with news.” Freddie had to pull me back into my seat to stop me from pacing. Instead of pacing my leg was bouncing and Auston laughed at me.

“Sometimes surgery takes a while, if something went wrong I’m sure that someone would come out and update you.” I really wanted to believe my teammates, but I was still worried. Finally Samantha”s doctor came out and as soon as I spotted him I was up, out of my seat and moving towards him. 

“Did something go wrong?”

“No, things were a little worse than we expected so we weren’t able to do it laparoscopically. Besides that everything went perfect. She is in a recovery room now. I don’t think the change in procedure will extend her time she needs to stay here, it could take her a little longer to get back to 100 percent.”

“Okay.”

“A nurse can take you to her whenever you are ready, but unfortunately only one visitor can see her.” I thank him, shaking his hand before going to tell my friends what was going on.

“We’ll try to stop by tomorrow after practice if Sam is up to it.” I bid them goodbye before following the nurse back to where Sam was. Walking into the room, I wiped my sweaty hands on my sweatpants before going into the room. Sam was laying in the slightly inclined bed with her eyes closed, so I tried to be quiet as I pulled a chair up to her bed. Just as I was sitting down Sam looked at me smiling. 

“Hi.”

“Hi, how are you feeling?” That caused me to laugh, of course she was asking me how I was.

“Aren’t I supposed to ask you that, since you are the one who just came out of surgery?” That got a smile out of her as she reached for my hand. 

“I’m fine but I am also pretty sure that I have pain meds in me right now.” Sam stroked my cheek and smiled at me. “You worry about me, and the nurse mentioned that the surgery ran long so I know that you worried even more.”

“Well, Fred and Auston didn’t have to tie me down to the chair.”

“That’s good.” We talked for a bit before a nurse came in to check on Sam. When he left Sam turned to me. “Why don’t you sleep at home?”

“I’m sure they will be okay if I stay here with you overnight.”

“It’s not going to be comfortable for you. Please go home and sleep in our bed, I will still be here in the morning and your back will thank me for making sure you don’t hurt yourself.”

“Sam…”

“Please Mo. Do it for me. I am going to be asleep basically the whole time you are gone.”

“Fine, but I will be back in the morning as soon as visitor hours start.”

“I can’t wait.” Kissing Samantha goodbye, I left the hospital, wishing that I was back with her but knowing she was right.

***

“She is walking around with a nurse but they should be back in the room in a few minutes.” I thank the nurse and sit down in a chair and answer a few texts before I hear Sam and a nurse coming into the room. 

“Mo!”

“Hey Sam, how are you feeling?”

“A little stiff, but good. It felt really good to walk around the floor.” The nurse says a doctor will be in soon before leaving us, Sam coming to sit on my lap. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, but you were right.”

“I’m sorry, can you repeat that?” I laugh, kissing her before lightly squeezing her side.

“You were right and I love you. I also brought you an iced coffee, I called the nurses desk and they talked to your doctor who gave the okay for the drink.”

“I love you too. And not just because you brought me coffee.” Hugging Sam as she drank her coffee and we chatted, waiting for the doctor, I was happy that this was just a bump in a road and even though I was super worried about the surgery, it all worked out.

[broken-clover]

AU-gust Day 6- Hospital

I’m here early! Mostly because I had a lot of this written earlier, so if that didn’t make it obvious enough I really liked this prompt. While it’s a hospital prompt is isn’t especially intense or gory, after yesterday I tried to make this one pretty lighthearted. Honestly I feel like the only really uncomfortable part of this is how much effort I put in trying to make a Pokemon expy. Hehe.

Sorry-not-sorry for more Sin and Bedman, it’s a bit more ‘romantic’ then last time but still pretty much platonic friendship. Enjoy!

Though it felt weird to say, Sin knew his least favorite thing about his father was his charity. Helping out people in need was a good thing, obviously, but a ridiculous amount of his childhood memories involved being dragged along to food banks, hospitals, and shelters so his dad could give corny, well-wishing speeches and lend a hand to those less fortunate, forcing him to help out alongside the other volunteers. Sin had used to wonder if it was because something about having a cute little kid around raised everyone’s morale, or whatever.

Well, considering he was now a grown-ass teenager at the age of sixteen, and Ky was still dragging him along, maybe he’d been off the mark.

At least he’d been allowed to take a break after an hour of schlepping donation boxes up to the children’s wing. Of all the places his dad went to for charity work, hospitals were by far his least favorite. The colorless, sterile atmosphere was just unnerving to be around. As soon as he could, he made a dash for the nearest sign pointing him toward the courtyard.

Sin swiped his guest ID through the maglock, which released with a cheery beep. The white walls and stench of antiseptic gave way to an array of soft colors and the smell of flowers. He took a deep whiff of the aroma and sighed with relief. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his handheld, fully charged for when he got a break and could take a minute to loaf off and relax.

Which game had he left in it this time? He popped out the cartridge and smiled. That was right. Pocket Beasts: Light version. His current favorite. He just needed a comfy place to hunker down and play.

A few stone benches were placed in between bushes and flowerbeds, all unoccupied. The place looked really empty, but it made sense. Everyone who wasn’t already busy was probably at Ky’s speech. At least it meant he’d be able to get some peace and quiet and privacy.

He spotted a pretty lavender flower poking out of the bushes and approached. The ‘flower’ moved, making him realize he’d seen wrong. Sin groaned inwardly at the sight of another person, perched on the short stone wall surrounding the flowerbeds. They didn’t glance up, if they’d even noticed him at all, appearing too absorbed in their own handheld device to care about much else.

“H-hey.” He raised a hand at them, and offered a twitchy half-smile. There were so many ways he knew this could go wrong. Sometimes people screamed at him until he fled, or immediately launched into the most boring small-talk possible. Sin just wanted to play his game, he really had no interest in causing any trouble. “Can I sit down?”

Sin braced himself for a response, but he didn’t get one. “Hey?” He tried again, waving harder. Maybe they were deaf? “Is it ok if I sit out here?”

Eyes glanced up at him, but only for a half-second before they returned to the screen. Well, it wasn’t a ‘no,’ so the best he could assume was they just didn’t care.

Hesitantly, he found a place to sit. If the hospital gown and IV hadn’t already given it away, it was pretty clear that he was a patient, not a visitor. He was scrawny and spindly to the point where it was almost disturbing, his skin was pale and sickly, and the messy bedhead was only slightly offset by the awkward purple hair dye. Why was he out here in the first place, instead of at Ky’s speech?

He knew staring was rude, but he just couldn’t stop himself. Every time he tried, there was another odd little detail that caught his attention. A peculiar little hairclip in the shape of a pink arrow. A purple charm bracelet half-hidden by his standard-issue hospital band. Glittery star stickers on the sides of his handheld, and- hey, he recognized that game!

His expression brightened. “Oh, you play Pocket Beasts too? That’s my favorite! Who’s your starter?”

The only response he got was a couple of button clicks. Sin found himself sinking back into an uncomfortable silence. Well, he supposed it was better than being yelled at. He switched his game on.

Dad said he wasn’t supposed to use the internet at the hospital because it would mess with all the fancy machines, so online matches were out of the question. Well, there was always the battle tower. Maybe he could item grind to kill time. He still needed to finish his Soup Encyclopedia and some of the rare cooking items could only be found there.

Any discomfort he had was wiped away with the familiar music and intro screen of the game. How could he worry when there were battles to be won? All he had to worry about was making the most of his free time.

His avatar flickered into existence, still in the last town he’d visited. As soon as he moved towards the nearest building, though, a little indicator popped up on the bottom of the screen. Puzzled, Sin took his stylus and tapped on the icon.

Trainer BEDMAN would like to battle!

>Accept Decline

‘Bedman?’ He looked up at the little avatar that had appeared, then glanced off to the boy at his side. The messy lavender dye-job was surprisingly close, as was the magenta arrow pinning his bangs out of his eyes. Was it just some weird coincidence? If he wanted to play, he could have just asked…

Despite his confusion, Sin clicked ‘Accept.’ PvP battles were more fun than doing the same grind he had done over and over again. Even if he did lose, it was in a totally unique way.

The usual introductory animations played out as their avatars posed and tossed their first beasts into battle. Sin had to snicker at the disparity between their choices. He always liked sending his biggest and toughest beasts out in the beginning, and pretty much anything looked tiny beside it.

But smaller meant faster, so he wasn’t all that surprised to see the other one attack first. He braced himself for a tough starting move...only to be confused at the sight of a sand cloud being thrown at him.

Enemy Used SAND TOSS!

Accuracy Lowered!

Sand toss? What a waste of a turn! Sin grinned as it switched to his turn. Karate chop, a pretty powerful start, it always hit, and he had the type advantage, what a great way to start a match- !

Attack Missed!

“What!? How did that miss!?”

“Karate chop has a standard accuracy of 100%.” A low, quiet voice spoke up next to him, making Sin practically jump back in shock. “But I lowered your accuracy with sand toss, so now there’s a 15% chance it won’t hit.”

“...Huh.” He looked back at his screen. “Never see people use sand toss out of, like, NPC fights.”

“Most players treat accuracy-modifiers as a waste of time, but if you have a Pocket Beast with a high enough defense, then the turns spent not attacking are made up for when the opponent can barely hit you later.” The strange boy had such a casual tone to his voice, as though they’d been conversing for hours already.

It was a bit jarring, but Sin tried to roll with it. “I guess that does make sense. Sorta like when a beast has the ‘Decoy’ ability and the first attack never hits?”

“Kind of. But a lot of players know which beasts can have Decoy, so they know ahead of time to focus on stat-altering moves or poisoning instead of wasting a turn when they know attacking won’t do anything. Take your turn.”

It took him a moment to process the last bit, but he noticed the battle menu had popped up again. He picked another attack. “Why’d you want to battle me? Did you just pick at random?”

“You were the only opponent available.” Another sand toss. “It’s hard to find people to play with on local, and I’m not allowed to use global matchmaking in my room because it needs an internet connection.”

Sin waited for his two-turn charge move to activate, but before it could be his turn, a swift attack managed to knock his beast out cold. “Damn it! I thought I had that…”

He spotted a triumphant little smirk out of the corner of his eye. “Pocket Beasts is all about tactics. You have to take everything into account. It’s easy to just care about how much damage a move can do, but you’re doomed from the start if you don’t have the right stats, or the best moveset to compliment them.”

He couldn’t help but grin along with him. “Wow, you’re really good at strategy!

‘Bedman’ managed a small, awkward smile. “Well, um, not like I have much else to do…”

“Really?” Sin tilted his head. “I guess it’s good you’ve got something fun to do while you’re here, all this hospital stuff skeeves me out. When do they let you go back home? I dunno how long you’ve been here, but I think I’d go nuts after a couple of days.”

“I’m not sure. I’ve been here a while, already.” A lucky hit from Sin’s beast managed to knock his first one out. “Since...last January, if I remember correctly.”

Last January? Jeez, forget a few days, he was sure he’d be past insanity after a whole year!

Sin donned a look of pity. “That sucks. What’s wrong with you?” The words came out before he could think or realize that it wasn’t an especially nice thing to say. “Uh, shit, sorry-”

“Mmm. It’s okay. At least you don’t mince your words. I have a neurological disorder that affects how my brain processes information. It’s a bit hard to describe. Let’s say a human brain is like a computer, it processes the inputs that are fed into it. Powerful, modern computers can process a lot of information all at once, but if a computer is old, or wasn’t built properly, trying to process too much information can make it overheat and crash.”

“Oh. So how do you keep it from ‘overheating?’”

“Sleep, mostly. I’m only awake for a few hours every day. When I’m awake, and I don’t have tests to do, I like to play games. My sister and I play multiplayer sometimes, but usually I have to play by myself. She has the same problem I do, so a lot of the time one of us is asleep during the times the other’s awake.”

Was it weird to get all this personal information from someone he’d just met? Sin wasn’t sure. But he did like talking to this guy. “Well, want to swap Friend Codes? If we’re registered as friends then local multiplayer should work, then you don’t have to use an internet connection!”

“Where do you live?”

“Central Illyria!” Sin beamed. “Like, half an hour at most. It should still work from there.”

The other boy gave him an odd look. “I’m sure there’s plenty of hospitals closer to you, then. Why did you come out all the way here?”

That got him to roll his eyes, making an exaggerated gagging noise. “My dad. He always drags me along on his charity stuff, carrying boxes and shit. He only let me take a break because he’s making some dumb speech up in the-”

And the regret came just as fast as he saw his companion’s expression shift. He hated the visits, obviously, but he knew it was important to a lot of people. And if someone had been stuck in a hospital for that long, maybe they’d be happy to have someone new come by. He must have come off as such a dick-

Before he could stew on it more, he heard a little laugh. “Yeah. I hate those, too.” Bedman was smiling at him. “You’re Kiske’s kid? That’s got to be awful.”

“Heh. Yeah, it really is.” He rubbed the back of his head. “Never gave you my name, did I? I’m Samson, but everyone just calls me ‘Sin.’”

“I was curious about your name, that does make a bit more logical sense.” His companion nodded. “It’s nice to meet you, Sin.”

“Same! What about you? Can’t imagine your name’s really ‘Bedman,’ is it?”

“More of a screen name, really. My name is-”

“Mattie! Dr. Baldy says you’ve gotta have your IV changed!”

They both jumped at the sudden noise, accompanied by the slam of a door. A girl with shaggy blonde hair and familiar features limped into the courtyard, setting her sights on them as soon as she was visible.

“There you are! I just knew you’d be out here.”

“Well, there’s not many other places I could be…” He said. “When did you wake up?”

“‘bout half an hour ago.” She replied. “Just in time for mom and dad to send me out to look for you.”

The girl’s expression changed when she noticed Sin. “Oh! Mattie, who’s this?”

“Sin, this is my twin sister, Delilah.” ‘Mattie’ pointed to her. “Delilah, this is my...new friend.”

“New friend?” Delilah reached out and shook Sin’s hard with a remarkable amount of strength. “Did my baby bro talk your ear off about his favorite game again?”

“You’re only older by nine minutes, Delilah!”

“He’s really good at Pocket Beasts.” Replied Sin. “It was fun playing with him!”

At that, he realized neither of them had selected anything in a while. He looked down at his screen

TIME UP

DRAW

“Aww, maaaaan…”

“Do we have enough time for another match?” Mattie asked.

“Dr. Baldy looked really serious. We probably can’t make him wait that long.” Delilah shook her head.

Sin tried to bring the mood back up. “Well, we were still gonna swap Friend Codes, right? Then we can play whenever! Either of you have something to write with?”

Delilah pulled a thick black sharpie from her sock. “I have a marker! But no paper…”

“Oh! Hold on a sec.” Sin rolled his jacket sleeve up and held out his arm. Just write it on the back!”

The two of them looked hesitant. “Is that safe?”

“It’s totally fine! It’s a little hard to wash off, but that means it won’t smear before I get home!”

Mattie took the marker and began scribbling on his forearm. “You’re really quite strange, Sin.”

“Thanks!” As soon as the wet feeling on his arm went away, he twisted around to see two series of digits.“What’s this other number?”

“Our phone number. If, um, you ever feel like calling.” Despite his attempts to hide it, Sin could see the faint blush to the other boy’s cheeks. “Do you think you could do one more thing very quickly?”

He couldn’t think of what it could have possibly been. “Yeah?”

“Can you draw something on me? I’ve never done it before. I want to see what it’s like.”

He grinned. “Hell yeah! I’ll try and draw something cool real quick!”

Delilah winced. “You know mom and dad are going to kill you, right?”

“Just say it was my idea!” Sin beamed. Mattie flinched the first time he pressed the marker to his skin, but he managed to still draw a straight line. He couldn’t think of anything in particular to draw, so he settled for a series of sharp, criss-crossing black lines circling his forearm. “How’s that?”

“...woah.” Simple as it was, Mattie looked utterly awestruck. “It’s…

“C’mon, Mattie, we’ve gotta go!” Tired of waiting, Delilah all but dragged him off the wall.

“See ya!” Sin waved as they departed. “You’d better bring your A-game next time we battle, I don’t lose easy!” He folded up his game and tucked it into his back pocket. That was probably his cue to leave, too.

As he hopped off the wall, he could make out a faint voice trailing away to the other side of the courtyard.

“Huh? What’s the deal with you, Mattie? You never look that happy!”

Sin smiled as he turned to leave. Ky was probably waiting for him.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been excited for the next visit.

[lukebaker-archive]

Road To Hell .

Date: Saturday, January 2020 Key:  TW Drug Relapse , @dallas-micheal Sober/Clean: 0 days.

Luke: Everything was still, but Luke's mind had been racing. The days and nights had melted together and no matter how fast the world was moving around him, it felt as if his body was glued to the car seat. His nose was on fire, dry, but craving for more substances to inflame his nose was all he needed. Reaching for his phone, he grunted to himself. No service, no drugs. "Fuck." Luke forced himself up, his pulse rising, the world spinning, and the only thing he could think of was his cravings. That was when the lightbulb hit him. Luke forcefully pulled up the floor liner on his passenger side, a small plastic baggie with white powder taking over his thoughts. Within the next seconds, his body went into autopilot, drawing the line and praying for some kind of comfort to avoid the withdraw.

Dallas: It was odd when his right hand didnt answer his texts. Even more odd when he wouldnt answer his calls. Dallas left a few messages for Luke, letting him know Becky was on the lookout and everyone was wondering where Degrassis resident playboy had went. He knew if Luke wanted to be found then the boy would let people know of his presence. "Im gonna head for a walk," Dallas called out into the abyss of the Torres home, knowing someone heard him before he left. Ever since the Vanessa drama, and not having Luke around to discuss and distract. He was left to his own devices, and going for a walk seemed like his best and favorite option. It had been about half an hour when Dallas decided that he should probably head back home, but as he turned the corner to go the back route home, a familiar sight caught his eye. He would've recognized that car anywhere, but why was it in this neighborhood. As he started walking towards the car, he realized someone was in the car. "Luke!" He called out as he neared the same the vehicle

Luke: He could hear his name in the distance, but Luke was too transfixed in his own mind to let himself be bothered. His body relaxed into the chair, the numbness in his body grabbing onto his body. Luke had missed this feeling. The world was quiet. The fighting in his head had finally silenced and he was safe inside his own head, but it would come at a cost. First he had images of Fiona at first to comfort him, to carry him into safer dreams, but he knew better than that. The safer dreams needed to erase Fiona, Becky, anyone who mattered for that fact to fully feel everything. All he had was darkness, that's what he wanted.

Dallas: He scrunched his brows when no one responded, he kept walking towards the car. He realized the drivers door was popped open as he got closer. "Luke," He spoke as he finally made his way towards the door. Eyes immediately training on the little baggie sat on the passengers seat. "Fuck," He spoke as he looked down at his friend, he knew all to well where the boy was in his high. He shook his head as he quickly grabbed the baggie and shoved it. He spoke quickly, trying to get eye contact with his friend. He was supposed to help this from happening, he tried to help the boy. And had done decently up until this point, or so he had thought.

Luke: The cool breeze threw Luke off as the figure was speaking out to him. He simply nodded I response to his best friend. Or at least what he believed was his best friend. Everything was bright and in focus despite the darkness of the night, but he couldn't pull his friends face or name from his mind. Only Dallas' voice was able to reach to Luke. A sniffle as he reached over to make another line. His eyes widen not being there. "Fuckin' hell. Where'd I put it," he whispered mainly to himself. "You got it right? You saw where it was?" His thoughts weren't on anything else but riding this high out. He felt his inner self screaming in the back of his mind, but the urge was too strong. "Come on, man. I just need one more bump."

Dallas: He shook his head at his friend, the boy barely knew what was happening besides his next fix. The boy was already high as a kite, "What you need is to move over so I can drive us out of this place," He stopped himself from calling the boy a fucking idiot. He knew the history, why it was his kryptonite. He understood the thrill of the drug, he was lucky to not get to the same point as Luke, at least with the ivory powder. "We'll go to my place," He didnt have his keys on him, but Luke was given a key to his place the day his mom met him. "We can chill there and Ill let you have all the bumps,"

Luke: "Just lemme get one more on the way there," Luke spoke erratically. He didn't feel in control of his body as he lifted out of the car. Instead of walking around the car, Luke forced himself into the back seat, laying on his back forcing to stare at the car roof. The drive wouldn't take long, but Luke didn't know that. He barely knew where he was right now and all he could focus on was the next line. "Lemme get just one before we get there. Just something small to keep the edge off."

Dallas: Dallas got in the car quickly starting it and pulling out, checking on Luke through the rear view, "You'll be fine, its a couple minutes. Do you know how long you been gone?" He quizzed, already assuming the boys answer. If it had been anything like how Dallas found him then he definitely didn't even know the time of day let alone day of the week. "I got some shit to tell you when we get there. As always its about Vanessa, I already know what youll say," He tried to discuss anything but the drugs, hoping it would at least distract the boy.It had been a while since he'd done anything, now Dallas was just wondering what ignited it.

Luke: Luke's face turned confused at the question. "Uh, depends? Is the dance still going on?" His brain was fuzzy with the timeline and he felt like he was forgetting something. Or someone? "Was I supposed to do something?" He hadn't thought he was gone from the Match Dance that long, but then again the amount of sunrises he had seen and forgotten made him think differently. "I always liked you and V. She smells like vanilla and made you less of a dick," Luke laughed to himself. "Your game was better too. Maybe it was the lack of V from V," he continued his laugh even distracting him from himself.

Dallas: Dallas furrowed his brows, remembering someone saying Luke left them at the dance, "Its about a week later buddy, and I think you may be right about forgetting someone. Cant remember who," He shrugged as he pulled onto his road, the familiarity hitting him immediately. Dallas couldnt help the chuckle that left his mouth, "She smells like vanilla with a hint of citrus, but only if you're close enough," He failed to mention the light leather scent she held due to the countless jackets she owned, and the lettermans she borrowed. "She always had twisted ways of getting me to focus," He chuckled lightly, before a frown over took his features, "Unfortunately, she needs time for herself," He sighed as he pulled into his driveway, parking the car. "I get it and all, but I just fucking got her back into my life,"

Luke: "A week?" Luke raised an eyebrow. The time couldn't have been passed through that much, could it have? "She needs time alone or you let her push her away?" Luke called him out. Luke didn't know much, but even in his mind he had clarity about things sober Luke didn't want to speak about. "Fi did something stupid when I let her be alone. Don't let it happen to her either. You don't wanna see her like that," he said lowly. The mention of Fiona shook Luke's head. He didn't want to think about her right now. Her face began flushing in his mind with disappointment and replaying the night before she was hospitalized. All that guilt and hurt circling back, fixating on his mind. "Fuck, gimme the baggie." Luke's voice more forceful. "I need it."

Dallas: "She just said she isn't herself and she inst that happy. She cant be with me if she doesn't know herself type of thing i guess," He turned as he heard the shift in Lukes tone. "You good? Whats going through your mind?" He could see a few different emotions crossing his face but couldn't make em all out. "Lets head inside," He got outta the car, making his way to the door to unlock it. If he got Luke inside first, it'll be a lot easier to keep him there for a bit of time. At least to try and detox him before bringing him home.

Luke: "And you just /left/? Sounds like a cry for help, but what do I know," Luke replied, chuckling. The laughter echoed in his head even though he had stopped being audible with it. He just needed a sound to get Fiona's image out of his head. "Just give me my damn drugs." Luke's voice was aggressive as he leaned up from his the backseat. Against his own mind, Luke's body followed Dallas' words only for the powder he was holding. He was hard on his feet, heavy in his steps as he made his way to the Torres' residence. The last thing he needed was a lecture from Audra so he remained quiet without being told sold. Luke's sniffling had become heavy now, "I did what you asked. Draw me a line, would'ja."

Dallas: "I didnt know what else to do Luke. The love of my life was telling me she couldnt be with me and I panicked. Shes the only girl ive ever loved and honestly more than likely will ever love," He thought about Lukes words, he knew he needed to eventually talk to her about the situation. But he also assumed she wanted her space for a little bit, and honestly he needed his too. Dallas sighed as he pulled the baggie from his pocket. "How bout I indulge with you? A little bro bonding,"

Luke: "Look, dumbass, the love of my life told me the same thing. I left her alone and next thing i knew she had drank herself to the bottom of the staircase. I'm not letting you make the same mistake," Luke spoke trying to reason. All he could see in his mind right now was Fiona in that hospital bed and it was beginning to eat at him. He wanted to forget, he needed to forget. The drug must have been wearing off because he was beginning to see clearly again. The baggie made the "Yeah, yeah man. It'll help you forget her. Help us forget them both," he spoke quickly. It was beginning to hurt and at this point he'd say whatever. "You won't think about her or any of them, just one line."

Dallas: "So that's what really happened. I knew she didn't go to Paris," He shook his head as he took the baggie out of his pocket. Opening it, he glanced at Luke noticing him looking in the opposite direction before he "accidentally" dropped the baggie all into the carpet. "Fuck!" He said loudly trying to play it off as if the bag slipped. "They need to put fucking grips on these things,"

Luke: "Call your fucking girlfriend." Luke's eyes stayed focus on the bagging until he thought he had heard footsteps. In that quick second everything had turned red. The powder was completely on the floor and he was on his knees trying to pick any trace up. The rage grew on his face as he snarled up at Dallas. "You need to get me more! I can't... I can't go back," he rambled. "You gotta help me man. You gotta get me more."

Dallas: "Im sorry it slipped!" He had never seen the amount of anger on Lukes face as he had in that moment. He knew he couldnt go get him more, let alone leave him by himself. "Sit," He spoke calmly, pointing to the spot on the opposite end of the couch. "Do you think if I call her she'll actually answer? I did leave her in the middle of the a diner, " He silently begged that he would just forget, and focus on the conversation.

Luke: He could only sink into the seat, knowing the inevitable was coming. "Ask yourself the same thing, if she called would you answer?" he replied. Luke was stubborn and impulsive, but the one thing you couldn't say about him was he didn't know how to treat people he loved, well not in this mindstate anyway. "If you're gonna make me suffer, can you at least get me a beer to try and ride this?" It was a shallow statement, only needing him away from a quick moment so he can try to save everything that was on the carpet.

Dallas: "Fair point," He looked at his phone that was sat on the edge of the table. He had stopped himself many times in the past couple days from picking it up and texting her. "You think Momma Dallas has alcohol? Funny," He chuckled, after his dad went away his mom decided that alcohol was the reason, and no more would be allowed. "I may have a bottle of vodka in my room if you wanna go check," He shrugged, " Not positive however," He grabbed the television remote, turning it on and switching the HDMI so they could use the PlayStation.

Luke: only shook his head, knowing he was going to have to find a whole new stash all on his own. His eyes just stayed focus on carpet, not even noticing Dallas turning his attention to the tv. He could feel the comedown happening, his mind leaving high alert and his body trying to avoid the mania that was coming. He leaned back into the couch, just ready tp let the suffering kick in.

[aidenzhous]

in all these moments. (ajay x mc)

pairing: ajay x f!mc (cas rhodes).

word count: 3.4k.

genre: fluff / teeny tiny sprinkle of angst / romance.

summary: five times ajay backs out, and one time he doesn’t.

author’s note: i was rereading hssca bc i have Nothing else 2 do and i was thinking !!! why not !!!!!!! do a 5+1 !!! bc im super weak for those !!! anyways here it is it’s not Totally loyal 2 the chapters bc ~creative license~ but i Do hope u all enjoy it anyways for my first fic here owo !!!! 

tag list: send me an ask or message me if you want to be added !!

i. auditions.

Ajay has always believed freshmen were all the same—too curious, too reckless—just too much everything. The world was their oyster, and they hadn’t learned the difference between questions to ask and questions to rein in.

That was what Ajay believed, until Cas.

She’s all cheerful eyes and open friendliness when she introduces herself, stumbling on her shoelace before righting herself with an embarrassed laugh. She doesn’t even look bothered after he’d brushed her hand aside and easily repeated his speech of ambitious projects and director responsibilities, smiling apologetically as she takes a half-step back.

“My bad,” she says. “I didn’t mean to bother you.”

“Thank you. But you’re still bothering me, Cas.”

He can’t help but notice her eyes carry that wide-eyed freshman wonder, intertwined with something that feels like sunshine and starlight and something he can’t quite name. Freshman optimism, maybe. He glances back to his scripts just as Danielle slides into the conversation like she had been there all along.

“Relax, Ajay.” Danielle barks a laugh. “She’s just trying to introduce herself.”

“Danielle, please.” He runs a hand through his hair and tugs the script closer, mindful of his pen. He levels her with a look, exasperation and exhaustion in one. “I can forgive interruptions from a freshman, but you of all people should know better.”

She shrugs, like he has a point but she stands too much on her own to care. “How about this?” Danielle says. “Cas can help me set up the stage, and you can take a chill pill.”

Ajay rolls his eyes and waves a dismissive hand. “Lovely idea,” he says after a moment.

Danielle turns on her heel and motions for Cas to follow, leading her backstage. Against Ajay’s better judgement, he lets himself get distracted, gives himself an interlude between work to watch as they leave. His eyes linger on Cas’s profile, watches as she says something to Danielle before breaking out into a laugh that he can clearly hear across the room. It sounds like a songbird at dawn.

He shakes his head before picking up his pen, twirling it between his fingers. She’s new, he reasons. She’s an undiscovered piece in the puzzle that Ajay hasn’t quite figured out yet, and he’s only distracted because it’s natural. Logical, even.

He sneaks another glance to the stage.

ii. the party.

This is what he knows: Ajay has always been good at separating his work from his personal life. Theater stays theater—everyone is a co-star first and a friend second, and romance is totally, absolutely out of the question. Success comes when everyone can focus, and butterflies, longing glances and crushes had no place in a production—especially one as important as this.

He’s lining up his next shot at the pool table, eyes focused. Emma and Sydney are hovering on the opposite end, their conversation distant and muted as he tunes it out. He inhales once, ready to secure the point, until—

“Ajay, thank God!”

His hands grip the pool cue tighter by a fraction, the only giveaway that her voice had startled him. It takes all his willpower to look nonchalant, to look like he’s absorbed in a game he knows he’ll score easy wins at, but the difference between being and looking is in the eyes. He waits until Emma and Sydney flit over to Cas, waits until they strike up a conversation of their own before he dares to look in their direction for a brief moment. He spots the faded blue of her jacket and the bright smile he’s gotten accustomed to seeing.

Ajay successfully sinks two solids into a pocket. He straightens up and pretends like he’s seeing Cas for the first time.

“Oh, hey Cas,” he says. She grins at the greeting, throwing a little wave his way.

“Took you long enough to notice I was here! I thought I would’ve had to start the preparations for my eightieth birthday if you didn’t turn around in the next minute.” She points to the pool table. “I didn’t know you were practically a master at pool.”

Ajay shrugs before turning back towards the game. “You only met me this Monday,” he says. “Besides, it’s not like pool is a particularly useful skill.”

“Maybe so,” Cas says, “but it makes for some impromptu bets!.”

Ajay raises an eyebrow at her, feeling the smile before he could stop it. He shakes his head and lets her have a short laugh, before he calls a pocket and easily knocks the 8-ball in.

“I win,” he says. He sees Emma’s shoulders slump in defeat as she sighs.

“Can I play against you?” Cas asks. “I have a good feeling I can snatch that pool-master title from you, easy peasy.”

He sets the pool cue aside, glancing her way. She’s all determined energy, coiled up into a tiny frame. “As much as I’d love to show you up, a bunch of jocks already called the next game.” He turns to her with a grin. “Find me later if you still want to play.”

*

She does find him later, when he’s leaning against the kitchen counter with a pizza in hand and a glass of cola in the other.

“Found you,” she chirps. “I believe you owe me a game of pool.”

“Can I at least finish my pizza first?”

“Nope! You can just eat on the way.”

*

Ajay figures out two things that night.

One: it is possible, even though he’d sworn up and down it wasn’t, that there was someone who was better than him at pool. He doesn’t know how to feel knowing that someone was a sprightly freshman with a knack for pulling out Ajay’s softer side.

Two: Cas’s hands are cold but soft. She also has victory dances, and Ajay thinks the cutest one is the one where she waves her body like she’s a piece of seaweed.

iii. the theater.

A quick glance to the clock tells him it’s nearing two am, and he’s been watching Cas nod off for the past twenty minutes, alternating between tipping over from sleepiness and jolting awake. He feels bad, because neither of them are in the beds they should be and it’s not like the theater comes with backup beds for events like this. A theater wasn’t built for overnight stays.

“Cas,” he murmurs, tapping her shoulder. She makes a little snuffling noise, nose wrinkling as she blinks her eyes open. “You should sleep on the seats instead of here.”

“‘M okay,” she says, shaking her head. “Not sleepy.”

“You’ve been falling asleep for the past twenty minutes.”

Her next words come in a drawl, pulled by a tired lull. “No,” she says. “No sleep. Don’t know sleep.”

Ajay stifles a laugh. He ducks so her arm goes around his shoulder, and gently, he pulls her up. She goes along like a doll, which is to say, she doesn’t go along at all. “C’mon,” he says, though it’s mostly to himself. “The stage isn’t the best place to sleep.”

“Stage is good,” she murmurs, but she stumbles alongside him. “Detective C no lie.”

He doesn’t justify her with a response. She wouldn’t be able to snipe back, anyways, not with how tired she was. Instead, he shakes his head fondly as he lowers her onto one of the seats. She takes to it immediately, curling up on her side. After a moment’s hesitation, Ajay shrugs off his jacket and drapes it over her, patting it down. He hopes it’ll keep some of the chill away.

He takes the floor, sprawling against carpeted hardwood floor. His back immediately twinges in pain, and using his arm as a pillow only increases comfort by a marginal amount. This wasn’t how he imagined spending his Friday night, but a glance to Cas mutes his rationality.

If anything, getting to spend time with Cas made up for all the wrongdoings.

Her hand is hanging over the edge of the chair, fingertips barely touching the floor, and he lets himself reach over, his own fingers falling just short of being able to touch hers. Maybe if they were in a different situation, he could hold her hand the way he wants to.

But he’s a director and she’s a cast member, and Ajay has always been a stickler for his own rules.

He pulls his hand back, drops it onto his stomach and turns so he doesn’t have to look at Cas. She’s always been optimism personified, a burst of sunlight through cloudy skies.

Ajay’s just awful at not chasing the sun.

iv. homecoming dance.

Homecoming was many things. Crowded, for one, with memories from a time he’d rather forget. There’s a reason he had no plans on showing up, but all it takes is Cas and one well placed set of puppy-dog eyes and he crumbles like a demigod beneath the skies.

They’re dancing, slowly and surely. She’s clumsy at first, but she learns rhythm and steps quicker than he had anticipated, stepping where appropriate with only occasional glances to their shoes. Ajay can’t help but think of the what-ifs again.

“What’s that move?” She suddenly asks as the song nears its end. “The one they do at the end of songs.”

Ajay knows exactly what move she’s talking about, and it’s almost too easy to tighten his hold on her. “I got you,” he says as he spins her into a low dip. He smiles at the noise of surprise she makes, feels a little satisfied with himself when her grip tightens around him like she’s scared of falling. Her eyes are wide with alarm, but they carry a little bit of reckless joy too.

“A little warning would’ve been nice,” she says. She’s trying for annoyed, he can tell, but he’s starting to learn it’s never been in her nature to be annoyed at anyone. It only takes a moment before she bursts with a dazzling grin, another that Ajay files away in ‘expressions I’d like to see again’.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Ajay replies as he pulls her up. She does a little twirl under his arm and he lets himself hold her hand for a moment longer. The grooves and planes of her hand feel familiar under his; soft, sure, right. But he pulls away, doesn’t let himself think about that in too much detail because he’s not supposed to and puts a small distance between them that feels like miles. He doesn’t miss the way she deflates a little, doesn’t miss the way disappointment sits on her shoulders.

He figures there’s no way someone like her—all starlight, moonlight, sunlight—would like someone like him.

v. accusations.

Ajay looks over when he hears the soft thud of a lunch tray. Cas is sitting across Rory, her expression upset as she pleads with her to talk. It’s courtesy, he tells himself, when he stands and tugs her sleeve, pulling her to the occupied end of the table. He knows, really, that he has no right to do that, especially after what he had accused Cas of.

“She hasn’t spoken since lunch started,” Ajay explains, and her face falls.

“Is it because of—”

“Of course it is!” Danielle snaps, and Cas jumps in her seat beside Ajay. His eyes immediately fall to his plate, fingers gripping his spoon tightly. He’s done enough damage on his own, and the production was relying on him and he can’t have a repeat— “Just get out of here already, you’ve made things bad enough.”

“Danielle!” Cas’s voice is sharp in reply, but it loses its impact as it breaks.

“What you did wasn’t cool,” Clint says. “Not to any of us.”

“You should find somewhere else to sit, because you’re not welcome here,” Natalie adds.

Ajay winces. He doesn’t have to look up to know what their faces look like; their words hurt alone. Quiet falls on the table and he can feel the weight of Cas’s eyes on him. He keeps his gaze low, pushes around his food until she stands.

“Fine,” she says. “I’ll just go.”

He finally lifts his eyes when the squeak of her sneakers grow fainter, turning to watch as she shoulders open the door towards the courtyard. He’s suddenly lost his appetite, and pushes his tray away from him.

A moment later, Erin and Skye hurry up to the table carrying trays of their own.

“Where’s Cas?” Skye asks, and Ajay points to the courtyard.

“She got kicked off the table,” he replies, and Danielle’s glare switches its focus to him, turning icy. He doesn’t dignify it with a response.

Skye rolls her eyes and marches off towards the courtyard. Erin looks towards the table, eyebrows furrowed before she says, “I’m really disappointed you’d all believe Cas could be capable of something so cruel. She really thought you guys were her friends.” Her words sit uncomfortably on the group as she follows Skye, and Ajay’s eyes follow them, watching as they take a seat at Cas’s table.

He watches as Cas shivers against the wind, and he feels the inexplicable urge to put his jacket over her shoulders, like they were locked in the theater together again.

But they’re not.

They’re on two different sides of a serious argument and Ajay has monumentally screwed up his production and his friendships again. He stands up and clears his tray before disappearing to the theater, where no one else has to follow him except his own ghosts.

vi. cas.

Cas has successfully avoided Ajay for the duration of the cast party. She’s ducked into her kitchen, hid in the bathroom, shoved a handful of fries into her mouth and bolted for the living room as soon as Ajay had spotted her. It’s a never-ending game of hide and seek, and she doesn’t intend to lose.

It’s backed by pride, she knows that, and hurt too.

As the party winds down, she lurks near the front door. Ajay had disappeared at some point, and it’s easy to assume he’s just gone home. It’s a relief, she thinks. The game is over, and she can return to moping by herself. She doesn’t know how much longer she could’ve lasted trying to hide from him.

“Cas?” Ajay’s voice comes from behind her, and she throws her arms up in surprise.

“Woah, did not see you there,” Cas says, turning around to face him. “You’re still here. I thought you went home or—or something. I haven’t seen you for a while.”

Ajay raises an eyebrow at her. “Yeah, someone’s been hiding from me all night.”

“Gosh,” Cas replies, “who could that be?”

She doesn’t want to fall back into a rhythm with him. He makes it too easy. She pulls at a stray thread on her sweater before Ajay sighs.

“Can we talk, actually?”

“We’re talking right now, aren’t we?”

“I mean privately, without anyone else around.” Ajay runs a hand through his hair before he says, “just to my car?”

And Cas, well, she’s never been the greatest at saying no to Ajay.

*

“I wanted to apologize,” Ajay murmurs. They’re leaning against his car, and Cas occupies herself by staring at her shoes. “Back when everyone accused you—I should’ve stayed neutral, or at least been more thorough in making sure the facts checked out. I let you down, and I’m sorry.”

“That’s not what…” Cas pauses. She wants the right words, but she’s never been like Ajay—never has been eloquent or as level-headed as him. “Ajay, I don’t care about the fact-checking, or the staying neutral. I care that you said I could’ve been capable of doing something like that, I care that you said it was ‘logical’ and that it made sense to you. I care that in the heat of the moment, you decided that the cleverness you liked meant that I could’ve done it.” She sucks in a breath, hands rubbing her arms. “I care that my friend turned his back on me, and he did it so easily.”

Ajay doesn’t respond. Cas glances over in his direction to see him with his face buried in his hands.

“Ajay?” She prompts. “You okay?”

“No,” he says. His voice comes out all muffled. “I asked you out here to apologize—I was so confident I had it all right and that I knew what I was apologizing for but I still—” He cuts himself off, hands falling to his sides. “I still messed it up.”

“You can try again, now that you know what I was actually upset about.”

“Would you hear it out?”

Cas gives him a warm smile. “When have I ever said no?”

Ajay takes in a deep breath before he turns to face Cas. His expression is determined and apologetic all at once. “Cas,” he starts, “I’m sorry, genuinely. I hurt you not just as a director, but as a friend. I shouldn’t have been so quick to decide which version of the story I believed, and I should’ve had more faith in you as a person. You were right, after all, and I’m sorry it took me so long to build up the courage to properly apologize to you.”

“I accept your apology,” Cas says. “And I forgive you.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

Ajay shakes his head, but the smile on his lips is warm and kind. Cas opens her mouth to say something before a cold gust of wind blows strongly, immediately bringing shivers from the both of them.

“How about we get into my car?” Ajay suggests. “I can turn on the heater.”

“I call shotgun!” Cas calls out, skipping around towards the passenger door.

*

“Sometimes I wonder where we would be if I didn’t audition for the play,” Cas says. She has her hands pressed up against the heater, fingers wiggling against the current of warm air. “Like, would we still be friends? Would we have gone through that huge theaterwide drama? Or would we just have been people with mutual friends?”

“Maybe we could’ve been something else,” Ajay replies. “That particular thought has crossed my mind a few times, even though it shouldn’t have, and I’ve probably rehearsed the next few words a hundred times.”

The words are so telling, and Cas pulls her hands away from the heater as she sits back against the seat. She glances over to him before her head tilts in a play of curiosity. “What words?”

“I don’t want to rush it, Cas,” Ajay says, but his eyes soften around the edges. “I just—don’t quite know how to say it.”

The smile Cas gives him is nothing short of encouraging, tinted with butterflies and longing glances. “Hey, take your time,” she says. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Ajay’s head thumps against the headrest. Cas snickers, before she schools her expression into something gentler. She watches as Ajay takes a deep breath, fingers drumming against the steering wheel before his eyes meet hers.

“I think you’re incredible, Cas,” Ajay says. “You’re incredible on stage, and offstage—every morning, I feel so lucky that I can say you’re important to me. I can’t imagine myself not caring about you.”

He pauses, before he says, “I like you, Cas. I like you a lot. Waiting for the show to end has been…” He trails off, letting the silence speak. “I liked working with you, and with everyone else. But I won’t lie and say that I haven’t been thinking of taking your hand every time an opportunity presented itself and asking if I could—” Ajay ducks his head, adjusting his glasses.

“Yeah?” Cas bites back a smile, eyes earnest as Ajay looks up with a smile of his own.

“Cas, can I kiss you?”

“That would be really nice.”

They share a laugh, a little break in the moment as they lean over the console. Cas zeroes in on the gentle touch of Ajay’s fingers on her hair, the feather-light affection when he tilts her chin up. It’s instinct when her eyes slide shut.

Their lips meet in a chaste, soft kiss—a brief touch that sends her heart racing. She feels her cheeks warm up intensely as Ajay pulls away, touching his forehead to hers.

“That was—wow,” she murmurs, and Ajay laughs, the sound soft as it suspends itself between them. “Your glasses are all fogged up now.”

“Small price to pay,” he replies.

She takes in Ajay, takes in all of him from the way his lips are tilted up in a smile to the expressions he reserves just for her to the way he’s always carried himself like he’s unshakeable. She sees him in all the ways that make her heart flutter, and all the ways he holds her steady.

“I like you a lot too, Ajay.”

[windmaedchen-unknown]

Aftermath

The Phantom right after his failed assassination, recovering and plotting his next move.

The Phantom is laying silently in his hospital bed and blankly looks up at the IV-drip and the small container infusing it with morphine. He does not really need it but he prefers not to tell them why. Tomorrow he would ask them to stop the pain management, though. It slows his thinking.

His game in court went down yesterday afternoon. He was shot and brought to an emergency room in the evening. Since then he laid here, guarded at all times, having been subjected to initial questioning before being allowed to rest for the evening, as matters are being arranged further.

As things stand at the moment, his best option is to submit himself, thinking things out and see where to go from here. The mistake happened and there is no use in lamenting over it. The key to success is to keep moving, to make the best of the situation at hand. It worked in the past and got him out of ALL situations so far. It is not always clear but if you know how to take advantage of any situation without being too picky about the outcomes you will come out on top no matter what. However, the Phantom cannot deny a distinct uncertainty about his future in THIS case because of his unmasking and its relation to what and who he is. He might never be able to accept assignments again and it keeps nagging at his mind, for this is the very core of his existence. Closing his eyes, he forces those thoughts into the background, for now. Much will change, that is for sure, but he cannot skip a step to reach his goal. First, he needs to think over the events, his own actions included, and submit them to careful evaluation.

In hindsight, this particular situation of standing in court, was caused by the unfortunate death of that woman seven years ago. If the psychologist had not interrupted him he would not have been forced to silence her.  And, with her daughter’s unexpected attack and injury to his hand, the cursed moon rock would be left untouched. International law enforcements had NOTHING on him, but this moon rock threatened his absolute perfection of anonymity. He never lost sight of it. Was he afraid of his identity being exposed because of it? Well, yes, of course he was, but he never “felt” the physical clenching of his body to accompany that “theoretical feeling”. It was a mere consequence of protecting his anonymity. He does not want his identity to be known so naturally he “fears” its exposure. So what exactly did they expect when they pressed him on the matter. A yes? A no? There was, and still is, no answer to that, for he feels nothing. Except that he was growing more and more annoyed at their pestering about it. Even HE has his limits, no matter how phlegmatic he is.

The psychological profile was another weak point in this whole business and the Phantom watched Blackquill’s movements carefully throughout the years. All the taunts from within the prison reached him eventually. He knew, however, that unless he made a move towards Blackquill, the evidence being presented would be meaningless. Without a case at hand, the profile posed no threat. Leaving it be was a good strategy and with Blackquill’s death sentence finally executed it would remain meaningless forever. His HAT-2 assignment brought him back here into the vicinity, and thus it bore the risk of becoming the very case Prosecutor Blackquill needed to make his move. The Phantom could have refused the assignment, of course, but since it was a prime opportunity to deal with various loose ends at the same time, he accepted the risk. That Blackquill dared to step into the open as he did was unexpected but it did successfully lure in the Phantom. To his own chagrin, this step by the prosecutor made it impossible for for the Phantom to ignore it any longer.

He had made the decision to combine all his goals into this one assignment long before he came up with an actual plan for the day. So when he in-cooperated his personal agenda into his job, was he already too affected to think clearly? Sabotage the start - destroy the moon rock - destroy the psychological profile - get rid of Simon Blackquill and even pin the blame on the girl that caused him all the trouble in the first place. No, he failed to see how he might have been. However, his contingency plans were not adequate enough, obviously, and his opponents saw and took advantage of that.

Generally speaking his plan was not a bad one as such. It was risky, yes, as it always was, in terms of technicalities and need of contingency plans. It simply did not go the way he wanted and he had to admit that he was up against people cleverer than all of the brains of the global law enforcements together. Their unshaking believe in truth and justice, gave them the power to question everyone and everything. If they had not been so loyal to their friends…. if they had not been so…. rational amidst all the emotional drama… he would have gotten away. But he made the mistake to underestimate Phoenix Wright. Oh, the Blackquills and the police were no deal at all, but he never thought one could possibly have so much trust in someone’s innocence as that defense lawyer. Most people would have thrown the towel by the very moment the girl confessed to remembering murdering her own mother but … not Phoenix Wright.

During the later stages of him on the stand, as his words were doubted more and more, the Phantom was slowly filled with stress. An undefinable, uncomfortable contortion of his being. A “feeling” he wanted to get rid of, badly. Such distraction is undesirable. Thankfully he never really has to endure it much in the first place and that bit he encounters occasionally he can easily suppress with his apathetic nature. This time, however, the situation got out of hand due to the constraints of the situation and all control slipped out of his reach. Too many fingers pointing at him, too much doubt and perseverance in those behind the benches. They kept pounding at him and he was not able to remove himself from the situation, as he would usually do. Stress of that kind either numbs you into a silent confession or tears you apart in an outburst one. He saw that often enough in court as Blackquill’s assigned police detective. In his attempt to deal with the situation, he went beyond the point of no return and he was able to feel the wall of emptiness crumbling and breaking down.

Very well then. Then so it was. He allowed them to get him. He knew full well WHAT he was and with that also, WHO he was. Being an empty vessel for other personalities, his own desires and needs were always “theirs” as much as possible under the encompassing purpose of his being. Trying to give an answer to a question he had no idea could ever be so relevant was stressing him and apparently more than he would like to admit. So he gave them what they wanted. A display of fear. The fear itself was real enough, it just never before really made its way out from his subconscious self into the open in such intensity. It was the combination of annoyance, his patience wading, frustration over the seeming importance of emotions and feelings and the stress of his identity being revealed at any time that made him lose focus. All their hammering made him question himself. He always considered his own apathetic nature to be a quality, not a weakness. It allows him to think clearly and independently from emotional attachments and influences, without fear. Yet, these people put so much importance on the strength of emotions, trust and love, that he began to doubt himself, then and there, again. Did he miss out on something? Was he incomplete?

…

No, he left all those questions behind a long time ago. He already tried to understand others. While he learned to read and speak emotions by observation, he only barely experiences it himself. He feels empty by default most of the time. His artificial emotions served their purpose but there was never a real understanding, so he left this quest behind for a reason. It just does not work out for him. He naturally cannot not deliver what others seem to take for granted. He isn’t weaker for not responding to emotions. And the success of his assignments and his professional credence are the very proof of that. With a sigh the Phantom accepts, however, that his resolve is not strong enough yet. He will need to work on the endurance of his guard to prevent another such loss of control. For when it all came down, he found himself in a pitiful position, like a dog with its tail between its legs, wincing for mercy. Unacceptable and shameful.

Even though he is just laying in a hospital, he covers his face with his free hand to protect his privacy.

And then there was the shot.

That sniper put him out of his misery. When the bullet hit him, he felt and heard the metal of Bobby's badge give way. His chest grew cold and he fell backwards by the force of the impact. For a moment he was overwhelmed by the intensity of the sound he perceived, people gasping, screams of terror, footsteps like thunder coming his way and the deafening hammering of the Judges gavel under his own voice demanding order in the courtroom.

That moment he let go of everything and gave in. A retreat into his internal emptiness. He did not want to move or talk. No intention whatsoever to do anything else any further, neither as Detective Fulbright, nor as his own vessel. They could do whatever they wanted to do.

As he felt no pain, he was not riddled by an inexplicable fear of death. He might die, he might not. It depended on his actual condition. He could not tell if he preferred it one way or another. And without moving he was not able to ascertain his condition. He didn't lose consciousness, so he just laid there, breathing slowly, his eyes closed. He remembers Blackquill and the Chief Prosecutor ordering an ambulance. The bailiff touching him and pressing a dressing over Fulbright’s white coat to stop the bleeding. The courtroom being cleared from all spectators. The paramedics desperately trying to talk to him, without success and the subsequent transport from the courthouse to Hickfield Clinic. He refused to open his eyes but he knew that Blackquill had personally brought him up to the doors of the ambulance vehicle by the sound of his steps. It was only inside the small cabin, that he at last acknowledged the paramedic’s presence, for he had no interest in being considered unconscious. It did not help, however, as the moment he was being brought into the hospital he was being put under anaesthetics for the surgery. Needlessly in his opinion but he did not mind the passing of time in slumber and opportunity for his brain to relax from the unusual emotional impact.

When he awoke he was in single bed room. His wrist handcuffed to the bed and a police officer sitting on a chair on the opposite wall, reading the papers. When he moved to correct his position, the officer put the papers down and went outside for a moment. He sighed heavily. At the very least, his injury gave him a soft start into his … momentary capture. The effects of the anaesthetic and the pain management dulled his thinking so responding to some initial questions by the police officers was ineffective even if he had wanted to communicate. So the day went by and he only now has the time and mental strength to go over the past events, introspect and formulate a plan.

Thus, secondly, what are his current needs and which one has highest priority?

His most basic needs are covered. Food, water, shelter are taken care of, even if the quality lacks a little and his privacy is somewhat compromised. It does not matter. He himself has no demands beyond the satisfaction of those basics.

The Phantom moves his right hand. It is tightly handcuffed to the bedside. It appears that this is the biggest issue at the very moment. His personal freedom. He is detained and can’t go anywhere without supervision and physical restraints. Coming up with a plan to remove himself from this situation is certainly the most important matter to apply his brain to. This depends, however, on how they choose to deal with him. The local authorities have to go down the conventional route. They must try him in court first and then decide on the nature of his verdict. Throughout all this he is going to be placed in the detention centre. Once his case has been dealt with on domestic level, Interpol might step in. Not that they have much on him apart from the HAT incidents but they would be fools to not try and coax more out of him. Admittedly, he is actually interested to learn how much they suspect, in return. At the same time, however, their treatment of him would not be as law-abiding and humane, and he expects an escape would be a lot more complex to achieve than from the local prison here. So, if possible, keep himself under Blackquill’s wing and in the establishments he knew well. Take his leave from the detention centre…. or the prison. If Interpol takes him away he would have to act on the fly but by the initial proceedings so far he considers that unlikely.

With his free hand, the Phantom gently touches his chest, where the bullet had hit him. He can act despite this injury. The nurse mentioned that it had changed it’s path after hitting the police badge and went past his heart into his lung instead. Recovery should be swift.

Finally, he allows thoughts of his future to reclaim his mind.

The sniper. He must have come from his current employer. They alone have an interest to shut him up permanently to cover their own name. It was to be expected. As long as he is held by the law enforcements they will seek his death and even after he regains his freedom, they will never be sure if he has not revealed anything. Keeping that in mind, his constant supervision may just be of advantage to him. The rocket launch may have been interrupted but his capture broke the contract and forfeit his entitlement to his reward. With another sigh he bids it good-bye. At the very least, Fulbright had offered a comfortable standard of living unlike some of the other detectives and he was not forced to touch his own money during the past year.

His career is founded on word-of-mouth. He is a freelancer, not tied to anything or anyone in particular and he has actually found himself working against his own employers in the past. His absolute anonymity allowed it. His latest employer is a large one with a lot of international influence. If they consider him a failure, they might just be powerful enough to put him out of work, forever. He most certainly will have to get in touch with his contacts and probe how his reputation is doing. It is vital before returning to his underground circles. Before he can ascertain the true spirit of the situation, however, it is and remains of no use to ponder about it.

The heavy feeling of sleep comes over him as he actively empties his mind. One step at a time. Recover. Protect his life within prison walls. Submit to Blackquill. Avoid Interpol’s terror-treatment. Escape. Re-establish his position.

His thoughts come back and try to circle through his mind but every time the Phantom pays them no heed, they become weaker and weaker… until they finally disappear and make way for the silence of sleep.

[mechagalaxy]

Sten Hugo Hiller - 627184: My Clan war `46 - Second opponents: Black Star Knights

(By Sten Hugo Hiller - 627184)

My Clan war `46

Second opponents: Black Star Knights

Some Commanders prefer the solitude of fighting for themselves. Having none to tell you what to do, or having to follow some underling with the eyes of argus to check that they follow orders is after all quite liberating. You are of course free to play in the lottery, as everyone else. You can fight in the KotM events and the Wave Challenges, and once you get a two-digit licence you can trash others in the Circuits as well. Then there is the sheer mayhem involved in hitting other Commanders to see which one have the strongest formation. If that is the way they prefer to fight, who am I to tell them they are wrong?

Then you have those who form a clan, or join one. As they well understand; If a leader is to bossy you can just leave the clan again, and if some member refuses to follow directions and sound advice he can be removed from the clan. Being part of a clan when it comes to lotto wins will because of the smaller prizes given to the winners clanmates effectively increase your take by 100% for each five other member, up to four times what a single Commander can expect if the clan grows to 16 Commanders. The other things you can do as a solitary Commander is still there to do, but now you have brothers in arms who might give you advice and answer questions. Then comes the Clan Wars.

In a normal War, any clan having enough members (8 minimum) where the discrepancy between licences is not to big, can sign up for the war. In general, Specialists might be assigned to members,-or not. But from time to time it might be one mandatory specialty. The Gaming authorities will then place clans in divisions according to their average piloting licences, and they will over the course of three battle days face a trio of different opponents. If your clan defeats all opponents, good prices will be had by everyone. That is, everyone who managed to get a set number of attack wins Defeating two, or only one opposing clan will get you lesser prizes, but even if you lost to all the opponents you will still get something. (provided you got the mandated wins)

After the war, some villain might appear. If the clan chooses to oppose said villains hordes, and manages to defeat all of them within a given time, prizes will be given to each Commander. Partly by performance and partly by luck. (but no kills equals no prizes. To be lucky, you have to perform first) -----

As for us in the Star League....

We had joined up in the war, and our first opponents had (figuratively) handed us our heads. Mind you, they took them fair and square on the field of battle, and kept them until the fighting was over.

As we returned to what had been our headquarter, Tony`s eyes flickered over the area.

Nothing was left standing. The remains of the ammo bunkers gaped empty toward the cloudy sky, the repair facilities had been burned by fires so hot that not even a trace of POL, spare parts or tools were left and the many wounded lay on the bare earth where a few overworked corpse men ripped pieces from their dirty, tattered uniforms to use as makeshift bandages.

In a dejected tone he muttered "It will take a miracle to get us ready for tomorrow. Right now I would make up to the devil himself if he could get us what we need to get operative in time" I looked at my timepiece. Bruno should be arriving any moment now, bringing the personnel and items I had neglected to bring in the first place. "Well,boss, as to that I have to...." The rest of the sentence was drowned by the roar of descending shuttles.

The Pakothe IV-B shuttles are quite enormous, and if you spend some mega credits at a good yard they can be configured pretty much as you like. These shuttles were mostly mobile repair bays, but a couple of them were fully equipped field hospitals, a trio were ammo carriers and one was a mobile mess.

Tony took in the sight and when he turned toward me what looked suspiciously like a tear was forming in his right eye. "Your work?" I nodded "Good man. Anything I can do for you?" I held out a clipboard and said "just sign here , here and here." After he numbly, still with an expression of wonder on his face had done so, I continued "I did not have the authority to release so much cash from our accounts, so the work was done on credit until you signed." Tony grabbed the clipboard and looked at the numbers. Then, white in the face, he grabbed me and threw me over the farthest shuttle. I noticed the ground getting closer at a breakneck speed and did my best to tuck into a roll. Then, blackness...

I came slowly back to consciousness, and immediately wished I hadn’t. There might have been some parts of my body that did not send pain signals to my brain, but the odds were that was because the nerves from them had been ripped loose.

My AI injected enough painkillers to knock out a tribe of Snavrums, and slowly the world came into focus. My timepiece informed me the second battle day would start in a few minutes. Looking around, I found myself in the cockpit of my ride, and pinned on the battle board was a note. It was from Tony and explained the battle plan and my part in it.

Jorge was covering one of the bridges, rated for no more than 1200 tons, Rob`s 30s was in the broken hills to the north. As for the opponents: Christopher Wallace held the other bridge, a Dual Rainbow one, and Brian Leslie King was supposed to hold the swamps to the south in his 20s. A long winding canyon was another connection between our two clans, My 70s held the eastern part, Joey Goldez 70s held the western part. Then my blood turned cold. "I have placed most of our ammo with you. Guard it with your life, because it is placed in such a way that if it explodes it will bring the whole canyon down on your defeated formation and your opponent" Talk about a do or die mission!!

Then the channels started cracking, the battle was upon us.

The Knights landed the first blows.

Led by Ales Tomasek, Brian Leslie King and Joey Goldez had for the moment brought their main formations along to do some mayhem. Able brought his formation into the fray as fast as he could and went onto the offensive. Despite a couple failed attacks and the appearance of Darryl Proctor in an offensive role, he managed to stabilize the front with us slightly ahead. 10-9 to us.

King returned, this time accompanying Philip Power. They got some unopposed wins, then Mark went on a rampage along their front. Not all his strikes was successful, but it caused them to withdraw, at least for the moment. 15-14 to them.

David Buchanan got a couple wins. In response Mark was once more called into the breach, this time having Jorge as wingman. Again our offensive had mixed success, but at least it pushed the Knights back. 22-17 to them.

It seemed there was only a matter of time before some enterprising Knight would come waltzing down the canyon, so I started to back slowly toward our lines. As the canyon started to widen I drew a deep breath of relief. Really bad idea. The painkillers could only mask so much pain, and the sudden expansion of my chest made my bruised and broken ribs send frantic emergency signals to my brain. After what seemed like an eternity of pain, I finally realized that holding my breath was the worst thing I could do. Letting it out in a wordless scream, slowly reduced the pain level from unbearable to just very unpleasant. When the stars finally stopped dancing in front of my eyes and the monitors once more informed me of my surroundings, I discovered we were surrounded by a superior formation.

"Ah, how good of you to show up. Would you care to join me for a stroll along the front? After some unexpected expidentures we need every commander to earn his keep" Tony`s cold voice belied the bantering tone, so what choice did I have?

"Come along and watch me closely, I will point out a few opponents you might be capable of handling"

I have to say Tony really know how to handle his Mechs. Opponent after opponent fell before him, and under his tutelage I managed to score a few wins as well. When he called off the offensive we had gained quite a bit of ground. 35-22 to us.

Tony escorted me back into the canyon and ordered me to stay there this time. While we were out of the picture, Bob Schlomer made an appearance. Blowing our formations up. Right, front and center. There seemed little we could do to halt his advance. Tony threw himself into the frontline, hoping to make Schlomer break off his one-formation rampage, but to little avail. Then David Buchanan joined Schlomer, and most of the advantage we had held disappeared 36-34 to us.

Rob rushed over to reinforce Tony`s drive, but lady luck was on the Knights side here, and after several fumbled attacks the Knights had the advantage again. 38-37 to them.

As the main action took place elsewhere, Drake Hunter had been left to cover quite a stretch of the front by himself. Now he suddenly found himself face to face with Joey Goldez, and not in a puny 70 ton formation either. Despite being outmassed by a noticable margin, Drake stood his ground, knowing none else was between Goldez and our HQ.

Goldez frontline, a Humbaba, a Reaper, a Cameron and a Boreas, shielded by a Regis met Drakes Cavalier and Guardian, supported by two Nakshi`s and a Drednought.

The first telling blow came from Goldez Cameron. A solid hit on the Cavalier with a Rednose Laser turned into a minor disaster as it both splashed and generated a Wide Fork. The Cavalier weathered the storm, but the Guardians armor disappeared and it was a lifeless husk. Then Goldez Humbaba sent the Nakshi to the scrapyard using a Heartbreaker. Drakes Dreadnought took out first the Humbaba and then the Reaper by crits. The Cameron finally put paid to the Cavalier after lots of hits, and Drakes Dreadnought finished off the Boreas. The Cameron dispatched the shutdown Guardian, and used an overpowered Vadhar to kill off the Dreadnought. Drakes Nakshi fought grimly on, but were killed by the Cameron

Drakes second line, consisting of a Fext, an Anubis and a Boreas supported by an Ignis and a Regis advanced. Drakes Regis blew up Goldez Regis and the Ignis put paid to the Boreas.

Goldez second line consisted of a trio of Onyxes flanked by two Antithesises. One of the Onyxes quickly critted the Ignis, and after a flurry of nontelling blows another Onyx critted the Anubis. Drakes Regis and Boreas took out the two Onyxes, and the Regis took out the third Onyx as well by landing an overpowered blow from its Man Ò War Ray. The two Antithesises was now outnumbered and Drakes Fext and Boreas blew up one each.

Goldez third line consisted of a Frigis surrounded by four Nakshi`s. Amid a flurry of shots the Nakshis were blown up, one each by the Fext and the the Regis while the Boreas blew up the two others. Goldez Frigis managed to land a couple more blows before a Twin Grazer from the Regis ripped it apart.

Goldez fourth line, consisting of a Notos, a Guardian and a Redeemer flanked by a Dreadnought and an Antithesis marched confidently forth. They started by reducing the armor on Drakes Mechs, but when a Tri-Slagger from the Regis critted the Redeemer they understood this was serious business. And when, after another flurry of blows, the Guardian was taken out by a massive blast from the Boreas` Leviathan their confidence seemed to slip. In that tiny moment the Fext landed a massive blow from its Blue Dragon. Enough to blow up the Dreadnought, and the fork it created sent the Antithesis into an emergency shutdown. The Fext quickly put the Antithesis out of its misery, and the now outnumbered Notos was slowed to a crawl before the trio of Mechs slowly blew it into small pieces.

Goldez fifth line, a Dilophos, a Frigis, a Dreadnought and two Torrents charged forth to avenge their brethren. The Dilophos used an overpowered Ursa Strike to blow the Fext apart, and an overpowered Missile tow from one of the Torrents ripped the Boreas apart while the combined Splash/Fork ripped the remaining armor off the Regis. The Frigis gave it a mercy shot.

Drakes third line, a Ballista, a Frigis and an Antithesis flanking a Boreas and a Notos immediately made their presence known. The Ballista opened the ball by letting a Renly`s Revenge crit the Dreadnought. The Boreas followed suit. An Oppenheimer did not pack quite enough punch to take out the Torrent it hit, but the Wide Fork it generated spread lot of mayhem, and the Dilopos shut down to avoid an engine explosion. After quite a few additional shots had been exchanged, the Notos melted the Frigis by an overpowered Chimera, and the spreading cloud of hot plasma shut down one of the Torrents as well. The Boreas took out the last Torrent and the Antithesis put the disconnected Dilophos out of its misery.

Goldez sixt line consisted of a Fext and a Regis flanking a trio of Boreas. Quite a few cold blasts were exchanged, and many a target was frozen for a while. Then Goldez Fext sent an overcharged super explosive missile into the Ballista. The resulting explotion removed all traces of the Mech. In response Drakes Boreas sent another Oppenheimer downrange, killing off one Boreas and shutting down another. Another Oppenheimer blast packed to little punch to take out the Fext, but the Wide Fork shut down the Regis as well. Drakes Notos and Antithesis took out the two crippled Mechs, and the Antithesis managed to take out both the last active Boreas and the Fext as well.

Goldez last line, a Rudy, a Spitfire and a Dilophos stepped gamely forth. If they knew they were outnumbered and probably had scant seconds left, they gave no sign of that. Instead the Dilophos sent an overcharged Chidori into the Frigis, cutting it in two. The Boreas Openheimer arrived less than a heartbeat later, ripping the Dilophos apart and taking the Rudy out of the fight. Goldez last Mech, the Spitfire landed another couple of Ineffectual blows before it too was felled.

The fight was now in the Balance, an even 38 score to both sides.

Mark and Rob tried unsuccessfully to put us in front again and Christopher Wallace got involved as well. Most of the assaults failed here and when the smoke settled, the advantage had shifted to the Knights again. Schlomer put in another appearance and got some more wins. 43-38 to them.

Tony got us another win, and King got a couple. Tony failed on the following attack, but he managed blowing up Ales Tomaseks coffee maker by a stray shot. Infuriated, Tomasek went on a rampage that took a defeat at Ables hands to stop. 52-40 to them.

At this point our ammo stocks was gone, and all we had was what the Mechs carried. Tony disallowed any further offensive operations, and we waited for the light to flash. But while we might be done, the Knights had more fights in them. Michael Beagle drove a wedge deep into our rear, and called Proctor in to help finish us off. Once again Tony provided a critical defense, and in the end they were halted just outside range of the Star League HQ.

The final score stood 64-41 to them.

Yes we had been beaten, but at least we had not been crushed, so there was at least some progress from the first round.

[swimintothesound]

Gateway Indie

On May 20th of 2008, my musical taste changed forever. We (or at least I) tend to discover things in waves. Specifically waves of increasingly-tiered obsession that escalate until I can focus on one thing and one thing only. I’ll find a song I really like, devour the album that it came from, read everything on the band’s Wikipedia page, explore their discography, listen to side projects, see them live, spend exorbitant amounts of money on limited edition vinyl, then (apparently) write about my experience years later.

One of the most important steps in my particular brand of hyper-obsessive fandom is delving deeper into the genre of the band who I’ve recently discovered. Whether it’s simply to contextualize their sound, see if I recognize any of their contemporaries, or just to get a better understanding of the world’s musical history. When one artist’s discography isn’t enough, sometimes the next logical step is to start absorbing everything in their immediate vicinity. It’s a beautiful notion that one album can open the door to a whole new world of music that was previously hidden. It’s how you diversify as a music listener and as a person.

Up until high school, I’d really only explored the genres of classic rock, grunge, and some metal. All pretty standard stuff, especially for a white suburban teen, but it was all music that came out before I was born. In 2008 I discovered a group of albums that opened my eyes to the ever-cool world of indie and, more importantly, paved the way for my interest in both the genre and the contemporary music scene as a whole. As each of these albums near their 10th anniversary I realized that not only have many of them achieved “classic” status within the genre, they were also part of a larger movement for my generation.

Universality

Now that the internet has paved the way for services like iTunes, Spotify, Soundcloud, and Bandcamp, music has become more insular than ever. In 2017 there are entire sects of fans who can be hyper-devoted to one artist or scene that may never intersect with anyone else. Additionally, with the rise of social platforms like forums, Twitter, and reddit fans can live in a bubble… and while it’s great to connect with other fans, it also means the vocal obsessives are more walled-off.

We have fewer “universals” than ever before. Ed Sheeran is one of the best-selling artists in the world right now, but I don’t think I’ve heard a single song of his. Drake is breaking records every week, but if you don’t care about hip-hop, he’s pretty easy to avoid listening to. It’s a byproduct of the ever-splintering media landscape that we’re living in.

So there are positives and negatives, but this splintering is relevant because those “universals” will become fewer and far between as we move forward. Looking beyond music, you have shows like Game of Thrones which is one of the most technically popular and most-talked about shows currently on TV. It consistently shatters its own self-set viewership records, numbers which are worth screaming about in 2017, yet would have gotten a show canceled even 20 years ago. There’s just more to watch, more to do, and more to care about in 2017, so if you don’t want to watch Game of Thrones, you truly don’t have to. This isn’t the 20’s where everyone gathers around the radio for the day’s episode of Little Orphan Annie. I feel like I’m getting off track, but music is this phenomenon multiplied by thousands. Not only are there dozens of alternatives mediums vying for your attention, practically anyone can create music in 2017. There are more alternatives (and therefore fewer commonalities) than ever before.

I feel like we will reach (or perhaps have already hit) a point where there are simply no more universal artists. There’s never going to be another Beatles. Obviously. But looking purely at The Beatles on a scale purely based on audience and cultural impact, there will never be another musical group in the history of the world that reaches the omniscient presence that the Beatles achieved. There were fewer artists to listen to then, fewer ways to create music, and even fewer avenues to discover new music.

As technology has improved, we’ve seen a direct impact on the music industry as an entity. At the same time, we’ve also seen artists effectively harness this power. Groups like Odd Future were pervasive and forward-thinking enough that I (a high school-aged non-hip-hop listener) knew who they were and knew at least a few of their songs. While everyone’s musical journey is a unique story filled with personal discoveries that have influenced their taste, this is really a story about the first universal that I was a part of as it was happening.

I Miss the Old iTunes

Back when iTunes was still relatively new, it was my only source of current music. I would almost instantaneously drain any gift card I was given, using it to cross several songs off my carefully-curated iTunes wish list. I was also fortunate enough to have my Dad’s massive collection of nearly one thousand CD’s at my disposal, but as you could imagine, most of those albums were a decade old at least. That’s why I was a rock fan first: ease of access.

But I always found ways to satiate my hunger for new music. From VH1 to renting CDs one by one from the local library, there were only so many ways to hear new music, even in the mid-2000’s. One of the most unexpected avenues that I took advantage of was the (now sadly-defunct) iTunes Single of the Week Program, which offered exposure to countless contemporary acts one song at a time. It may not have been much, but this program turned me onto dozens of artists and sounds that I wouldn’t have heard otherwise. Through this mishmash of mid-2000’s media, I was able to satiate my budding hunger for new music as a penniless 14-year-old.

That brings us back to the first sentence of this post.

Unbeknownst to me, indie folk was blowing up In 2008. Bon Iver’s For Emma, Forever Ago was gaining serious traction a year after its release thanks to the album’s breakout hit “Skinny Love” and in May “Skinny Love” was put up as iTunes’ free song. As with most songs in the program, I’d never heard of the artist, nor had any experience with the genre, but I downloaded it anyway because that’s how hungry I was for new music.

I downloaded the track (no doubt on my family’s bulky oversized 2005 laptop) and synced it onto my iPod immediately. I was floored. I’d never heard anything so delicate. It was catchy (especially for a folk song) but it also had a soft warmth and reserved delivery that was a revelation to me at the time. “Skinny Love” evoked a feeling that was unlike any other music I’d ever heard. I had to have more.

Part of the beauty of the Single of the Week program was how random it was. One week it’d be an electropop song, the next it would be something folky like Bon Iver, and then it would be a latin song. I didn’t necessarily like it all (quite the opposite, in fact) but I listened to it all for the sake of discovery. The fact that these songs were free was just the icing on top of the cake. I had nothing to lose.

I had no idea at the time, but indie folk saw a massive explosion in popularity in 2008 with the rise of acts like Bon Iver and Fleet Foxes, who both released stunning debuts around this time. I didn’t realize that this era of indie had been such a widespread phenomenon until I saw people discussing Bon Iver’s For Emma, Forever Ago on its tenth anniversary calling it their “Gateway Indie” album. I liked that phrase, but I didn’t think much of it until I heard the ineffable deep_cuts youtube channel cite both For Emma and Fleet Foxes as “dominating adolescent MP3 players the world over” at this time. Maybe it was just his worldly UK accent, but something clicked for me. I realized this was not only a formative album, era, and sound for myself, but for everyone my age.

Beyond Folk

Later that year I met some of the coolest people in my high school. And by that I don’t mean cool in the traditional sense, they were dork-ass nerds like me, but they were dork-ass nerds with impeccable musical taste. At this point, the edgiest thing I had ever listened to was Nine Inch Nails, but these guys opened my mind to the larger world of indie music. Genres I didn’t even know existed. Sounds I could barely conceive of. This was 10th grade and the albums they showed me would go on to become some of my favorite and most formative of all time.

The first song I remember them playing for me was the opening track to Portugal. The Man’s first album Waiter: "You Vultures!" which was titled “How the Leopard Got Its Spots.” I’m going to stop there for a second just to point out this band/album/song combo was (before hearing the first note) already more experimental and out-there than anything else I’d ever heard up to that point.

“How the Leopard Got Its Spots” is a pokey unpredictable song that almost borders on prog. While Portugal. The Man changes up their sound every album, their debut is easily the most experimental of their discography, still retaining many characteristics of the band’s post-hard predecessor Anatomy of a Ghost. But I didn’t know any of that at the time. I just listened to the song, enraptured by the track’s grungy guitars that paired perfectly with Gourley’s shrill high-pitched singing. The lyrics were obtuse in a Relationship of Command-type way and the final glitched-out chorus haunted me for days after the fact, becoming an immovable earworm. I remember at the time Grand Theft Auto IV had just been released (God, take me back) and I’d spend hours tooling around the game’s gray city listening to this song on repeat for hours.

Sometime later, Eric (the one of the group who I was closest to) and I found ourselves sitting next to each other during a weirdly-placed mid-day homeroom period. I asked him what he was listening to and he said “I’ll show you” he handed me his headphones and hit play on his 3rd generation iPod Nano. What I heard were the first shimmering notes of Minus The Bear’s “Pachuca Sunrise.” The song’s carefully-times guitar taps and intensely-technical drumming provide the crunchy background for Jake Snyder’s laid-back sensual lyrics and Cory Murchy’s smooth flowing bassline. It gelled into a transformative experience that made my body feel warm with sunlight and love. There’s a reason it’s still one of the band’s most-played live songs even a decade later. It turns out “Pachuca Sunrise” was many people’s first Minus The Bear song and led countless fans to the group’s second album Menos El Oso.

At this point, I already had enough “material” to go off on my own and endlessly devour these two records from these two very different bands. And I did, but I was also hungry for more. I came back to this group of guys in our shared AV class and begged for more in the coolest way I could without discounting my own cred.

From there Eric, Oliver, and Max threw me into the deep end. They showed me “Death Rides a Horse” by instrumental band Russian Circles. I dug it. Ratcheting up the intensity, they moved onto “Laser Life” by the post-hardcore band Blood Brothers. I dug it. They then threw the hyperchaotic cybergrind “Chapels” by Genghis Tron at me. I didn’t dig it, but I warmed up to it pretty quickly.

While there were dozens of other acts and songs that these guys turned me onto over the course of the next year, this crop stands out in my mind both for its breadth and what they’ve gone on to represent for me personally.

Portugal. The Man would go onto become one of my favorite bands. I’ve often proselytized online that they have one of the best discographies in indie rock. I would also go on to expose this band to my two younger brothers, and for one of them, Portugal. The Man has become their favorite band of all time. They currently sit at my 8th most played band on Last.fm with just over 3,000 plays.

Minus the Bear was my favorite band for years. At 6 concerts they’re also far-and-away the band I’ve seen live the most, and two years ago I saw them play Menos El Oso in full for the album’s 10th-anniversary tour. The album’s closing track “This Ain't a Surfin’ Movie” has been my favorite song of all time since I first heard it. The band is currently my 6th most-listened band on Last.fm, and three of the band's albums are have made it onto my list of all-time favorites.

Russian Circles would eventually lead me to the world of post-rock and instrumental metal. Bands like Explosions in the Sky, Mogwai, and Earth, all of whom have served as my reading and studying music throughout high school and college. Russian Circles also have a nearly-perfect discography, and they currently sit at #15 on my Last.fm.

Meanwhile, Fleet Foxes were always a bit boring to me… until this year. Maybe I have more patience at 24 than I did at 15, but I’ve had their discography on repeat for this entire summer and I’ve been loving it.

Most importantly, Bon Iver served as my gateway to all of this. It’s weird that a slow quiet folk album could pave the way for something as discordant and brutal as Genghis Tron, but I guess it’s a snowball effect type of thing. For Emma, Forever Ago also became somewhat of a soundtrack for my first real relationship, and despite that relationship’s rocky conclusion a year later, I can still listen to the album today and enjoy it as much as I did the first time hearing it.

I can’t thank these three dudes (and the creators of these albums) enough. I can safely say that my life would be unequivocally and vastly different without having gone through this period of exploration when I did. I would be a different person with different tastes and interests entirely. Full stop. So for that, I can only say “thank you” and hope that I returned the favor with someone else somewhere down the line. Sometimes discoveries come from the most unexpected places. Sometimes a random song can lead you down a path you never could have blazed yourself. Sometimes a single song can change everything.