#honestly not sure about the structural integrity of the cover

[nerdierholler]

Attempt number two. Now it dries overnight and hopefully tomorrow I can glue in the text block.

[gold-rhine]

Inazuma Rewrite part one

This is bullet points rewrite for Inazuma general plot structure, bc I think it had so much potential, but was horrifically scuffed in game. If I keep something from canon unchanged, I’ll just say so without retelling the entire thing to keep the length down, bc it’s gonna be A LOT already.

Some disclaimers: I’m not trying to fix every single problem, just what I see as major structural failures. I will reference my problems, but you can read my explanations on them more in depth in my “inazuma ranting” tag.

This is also not envisioned as free for all fanfic where I can write whatever I want, but aimed to be actually feasible to see in game, bc it’d be unfair and I want to show that Inazuma could be improved in the same constraints that hoyo writers had. So please don’t ask why I didn’t do wildly inconsistent thing that would be cool, but genshin would never actually do.

I’m aiming to retain all relevant lore and achieve basically same worldstate in the end, including character arcs, for the most part, because I presume them to be integral to the larger strategic plotline of the game. Which means I can’t drastically change characterization and major plot beats like the decrees, rebellion, Raiden has to be a sympathetic ally in the end, etc. I’m also trying to keep genshin’s general tone and modus operandi, bc like, target audience includes 13 yolds and I can’t just “make Inazuma good” by turning it into like, a gruesome and complex power struggle of political factions like Fallout New Vegas.

List of main issues I want to address: pacing in general, rebellion pacing especially, lack of impact and continuity of effects of vision loss on people, lack of setup for the stasis vs transience aka ei vs makoto conflict, character arcs: raiden, ayaka, kazuha, kokomi, yoimiya, kujou sara. And more! 

Initially I wanted to make a single post, but it’s already 3k and I’m only up to Raiden’s first duel and I plan to cover post-archon quest content too, like Raiden and Yoi story quests, so I decided to split it up instead of posting like 20k monstrosity. So remember, this is for now mostly a setup.

EDIT: Part 2

Raiden’s motivations\Reasons for vision hunt

Ok, so one of the biggest principal changes is that vision hunt and sakoku decree are active Raiden’s decisions, instead of Fatui’s plot that she’s just passively allowing to happen. Raiden closed the country, but she’s ok with Fatui starting a civil war and selling delusions, bc it doesn’t “affect eternity”, like??? I honestly think that the current plot of her people dying in a civil war meant nothing to her is much worse than her starting vision hunt decree out of misguided plan to ultimately do better for people.

I mean ok, we have to have closed borders to reference Japan’s history, sure, but like, the whole point of isolationist policies like this is to prevent the outsiders’ influence on the country. So she should not be ok with Fatui schemes at any point.  

I mean, if it was fallout new vegas AU, I’d keep it to show that dictator doesn’t not care about foreign powers exploiting it’s people as long as it profits the empire and helps to keep people subjugated, but like. Then raiden can’t be uwu waifu. So we gonna give her good intentions and integrity, but misunderstanding of humanity due to closing herself off instead.

Now to why would she close the country and institute sakoku decree. I want to tie this in with another plotline that is just. Kinda floating at sidelines at the moment, but I think could work nicely in tandem. The Scaramouche destroying Raiden Gokaden, the five schools of weapon smithing, which were canonically highly valued by Raiden.

I’m not gonna recount Scara’s entire plotline, but basically he went on a misguided crusade against Raiden Gokaden and managed to cause fall of 4 out of 5 weapon-smith schools.

Game says that he like, tampered with the schools and covertly led to their ruin, which like?? They never found anyone guilty, like the most prized weapon art smiths of your country fall apart and you’re like oh well, I guess Yashiro commission is just bad at it’s job?

There is a plot point in this story where Isshin weapon smiths, unable to replicate a faulty design that was Raiden’s commission tampered by Scara, were scared of Raiden’s wrath and decided to flee to Snezhnaya. I want to change it to be that there is an event, where ALL weapon schools receive same commission at the same time, and Scara tampers with it.

Just as in canon, scared smiths, but now from 4 schools, not one, are manipulated by Fatui to flee to Snezhnaya, But we add a new NPC, the most talented blade smith who had a vision. Fatui frame him as the ring leader, as if they were running not to save their lives because of the tampered design, impossible to fulfil, but that this was a betrayal because of his ambitions.

After this, Raiden has legitimate cause to feel like her eternity is threatened. She sees weapon art schools, one of the most prized country’s traditions being ruined in a moment because of what she thinks is ambitious hubris of one vision holder, who colluded with outsiders. So she closes Inazuma and declares a vision hunt, to prevent this from ever happening again.

But ironically, in truth it was the fault of not just Fatui, but specifically a puppet without a vision that she herself created and failed to supervise. This brings the main idea of the plotline from “Fatui evil, Raiden passive” to “Solipsist goddess who doesn’t understand humanity tries to protect her people by locking them in stasis and taking their ambitions, but the real case of tragedy was her negligence and lack of empathy all along, and this is what needs to be changed.”

Interlude and plot setup

We start with similar plotline. Traveler tries to go to Inazuma, learns that it’s closed, talks to Inazuman NPC to learn more. Here we’re introduced to the general idea that Inazuma was closed off due to one traitor blade smith with a vision who sold off Raiden Gokaden to Fatui.

We go to Beidou’s tournament, which goes basically the same, we meet Kazuha and watch a beautiful cutscene about his dead friend who challenged Raiden to a duel, and now Kazuha tries to find someone who can reignite his vision. I will actually add changes to Kazuha’s storyline, but it be will later.

then we arrive to Inazuma, go through the same bureaucracy loops with Thoma on Ritou, to show the barriers to outsiders and also to illustrate how Thoma is the best fixer when he manages to drop a fee from 1 mil to like 10 gold by promising to have a dinner with government official.

But we’re cutting the second part of Ritou, with the boring plot about like merchant from Mond scamming people with the local police and then Traveler delivering love letter or whatever. I mean, we can keep this as an optional side quest, if like hoyo thinks the lore about love letter is essential for the Ayato’s quest or smth, but not as an Archon quest.

Instead, we put a part of Yoimiya’s quest there. I think Yoi’s quest is relevant enough to stay in the Archon quest, unlike Ayaka’s, but it’s slapped into a place where it ruins pacing. So instead, we’re cutting it up in parts and inserting it into main storyline.

On Ritou, while doing bureaucracy bullshit, we meet Yoimiya, and play the part of her quest about her helping a guy with a vision to escape from his former best friend, who is now a guard hunting him. It helps to show the rift that vision hunt brings not only with the outsiders, but with inside of the country as well.

Ghost of Makoto\Transience setup

another key point that I think is integral to fixing Inazuma is planting seeds for Makoto’s reveal from the start. I really like the Stasis vs Transience conflict from raiden’s second story quest, where raiden believed in eternity as lack of change, a perfect state maintained until the rest of time, while her twin Makoto believed in eternity as never-ending change, where people’s dreams constantly evolve, nature of them chasing these dreams never changes.

but it feels like it came out of nowhere and raiden just speedruns character development in like an hour, so a lot of people ended up feeling like it was just about Raiden mourning her sister, instead of raiden coming to understand makoto’s belief system and through that unlocking makoto’s final connection and then being able to let go.

so we need to first of all, introduce makoto’s ideas of transience from the start, and also empathize the conflict of them with raiden’s stasis.

and it doesn’t mean we’ll spoil the reveal about the second raiden shogun! we don’t have to ever use makoto’s name, just her title as a raiden and sprinkle her ideas throughout the land. We know hoyo area designers can do that stuff really well (guizhong’s relics being scattered all over liyue, rukkhadevata’s shadow in the aranara quest).

like, it’s strange that Makoto primarily ruled and shaped country by herself while Ei was just a warrior, yet we do not have Makoto’s influence visible. We need to add ideas of transience into fundamentals of Inazuma,

“Transience is the dream of the nation of thunder. We find the greatest joys in mortal life in fleeting dreams, for is life itself not like the shadow of the thunder? Pursue your dreams into the clouds if you wish, and enjoy the unexpected silence of the dim lamp-lit nights.” - Guide to Transience talent book.

add these ideas all over the place, esp near sakura. And let’s draw player’s attention a couple of times specifically to the internal contradiction of these ideas of transience being integral to inazuma and raiden’s current hatred of change.

like, we need even 13 yolds and twitch streamers to remember this, so lets make paimon say like

“Huh, this shrine to raiden shogun says that eternity is the pursuit of fleeting dreams, but doesn’t raiden shogun fucking hates dreams?? I wonder, what made her change her mind about them to the total opposite!“

this and more subtle puzzles\locations with focus on transience for people who pay more attention will add the much needed setup for makoto’s reveal

Kamisato siblings

ok, first things first, Ayato being absent without any explanation while his little sister is plotting treason and his malewife Thoma is about to be executed on the streets is unacceptable.

like I know it’s marketing or whatever and he’s not being released but we need his model, hoyo. If we 200% CAN’T have his model, we need to come up with solid excuse why he’s not here. Like idk, he’s helping the war refugees or smth

And we need hints at his presence\influence throughout the story. Like oh, here’s group of refugees who were helped by Yashiro commissioner, they are relocating to new homes, I guess Ayato is really busy. Oh, here is Fatui’s camp where everyone is slaughtered and boba tea cups are littered around, I wonder what is up with that.

and also, Ayaka is organizing resistance behind his back, and we never meet him bc Ayaka actively tries to hide traveler from him.

bc like, Ayaka doesn’t have a development arc in archon quest. She’s just kind of there, being perfect. Like in her story quest that hoyo makes you do at gun point, you like, go on a date, learn that she’s lonely and has trouble connecting with people due to the pressure of having to project an image of perfection and societal distance, do an investigation to uncover her late mother’s fox fursona roleplay diary which she used to cope her with own societal pressure. Which like. Ok, sure, but but this wet socks quest is not an archon quest material. It should be just a normal story quest.

no, Ayaka’s real conflict is wanting to prove herself to her brother, bring real difference to the world. This is her ambition, she literally gained her vision while fighting Ayato in a training, she wanted to show him that she’s strong enough to handle responsibility, he named her Shirasagi Himegimi after she won that fight

but during a civil war, watching people suffer, her role as a cultural figurehead is not enough. She wants to help, but she’s afraid to act, because this will undermine Yashiro Commission and her brother worked so hard to build it back up after Raiden Gokaden fall. so she organizes resistance behind her brother’s back in secret, to help, but without compromising Kamisato name

this basically tracks with what happens in game, but we spell it out and expand on this later.

Getting Traveler to help

next, let’s throw out the weird edging introduction where traveler is not allowed to see Ayaka the first time. like??? bro, we’re friends with 2 archons and heads of their governments, you’re not that important. and it can’t be to protect her identity, bc like. You go to Kamisato estate! You’re told who she is! If you wanted to betray her, that would be enough already.

another awkward thing is that Traveler, who agrees to do every stupid quest they meet, suddenly refuses to help the resistance.

I think we should reframe their convo a little, like Traveler says hey I’d love to help, but my primary goal is to get info about my sibling from an Archon, so I don’t want to go against her.

To which Ayaka says oh, I totally get you, you see, I am myself a culture figurehead and a nominal princess and I can’t speak up against the decree, bc that will hurt Yashiro Commission. But I’m not asking you to fight Raiden Shogun in a duel or smth, I’m just asking you to help people with the resistance, which we do totally in secret. No one will know! Also, how are you going to see Raiden? She’s locked up and doesn’t appear in public. But my big brother is a head of the Commission, if anyone can get you an audience, it’s him. So help me help people and I will ask him to help you see Shogun!

she secretly believes that after traveler sees ppl suffering, they will change their mind and help willingly, same as in canon, but she’s more subtle about it

Rebellion connection

my other problem with vision hunt is that the 3 quests they force you to do about meeting people who lost their visions are like. not good. The concept is interesting, but they are just kinda boring and meandering. They lack dramatic impact. They could do better. So we’re not doing these 3 quests rn, but don’t worry about it, we will get to the effects of vision loss

Instead, ayaka sends us to help Yoimiya and we do the same quest we do in archon quest - help her to free someone from prison dungeon. It goes the same, we get to the dude being mistreated by cops, Kujou Sara steps up and lets us go

But then it’s like, we need to get this dude out of Inazuma city. Cops know he escaped! They will just come for him again! There is only one place that will take him and it’s the watatsumi rebels.

Common complaint about Inazuma is that other countries feel like found families and Inazuma doesn’t, bc characters from resistance and rebellion basically don’t interact, and it’s true. And like, we can get them together! Thoma knows Kazuha, Kazuha knows Gorou, Gorou in canon went to recoinsanse missions to Narukami island.

So, Gorou visits the tea house to pick up the Vision Dude, and the gang has the hotpot meet up. Everyone is there (except Kokomi bc ok hoyo, we’re saving up for dramatic battle reveal, and i think her reveal would fuck up banner schedule). Ayaka, Thoma, Yoimiya, Kazuha, Gorou. and Teppei! Who is here bc he was recruited by Gorou. He’s actually from Narukami island, not Watatsumi, and he had nothing to do with visions, but he’s an idealist, he believes in freedom, so he joined rebellion. fun times are had, Ayaka tries to play srs bsns lady host, but breaks into giggling at The Shenanigans, Gorou is overly polite but adorable and apologizes to Ayaka about The Shenanigans in which everyone but him participates, Yoi is a life of party and the Shenanigans and later has to be bodily stopped by Kazuha from organizing fireworks right here, right now, Thoma and Teppei both get sick from eating Ayaka’s nasty cakes that she threw into soup, bc Thoma is just into oral stuff and Teppei is so earnest and eager to prove himself and impress ppl, haha comic relief, look how sweet and funny this guy is and all characters get along so great with him

bc like, I think Teppei has a problem of a) not having enough screen time b)not having any interesting characterization moments to make him stand out 3)not having other playable and already likeable characters interact with him

so this scene can serve not only to bring that “unlikely bunch of people becoming friends and working together” connection to life, but also to endear Teppei to the players

Vision Loss Effects\ Yoimiya and Thoma

ok, next Ayaka asks Traveler to do that one quest about martial arts master losing their vision. I think it’s the one quest from 3 about vision loss with most drama, but the real reason is that it introduces Yae Miko and we need to do this before leaving for the rebellion. Like, in theory, it could be switched to another, better quest that lets us meet Yae Miko, but honestly, this is not one of Inazuma archon quest problems so I can’t be arsed. Feel free to imagine a cooler intro instead.

when we go back to tea house, we learn that Yoimya’s vision has been taken away. She has been recognized in that last prison raid and the guards came for her later, and she didn’t fight bc there were kids and her old father around.

She’s completely changed. Her innate optimism, her belief in people and their dreams has been drained from her like a sunshine from a dark cellar. But she’s still Yoimiya!! She came here to warn you bc she still cares even if she had her own joy taken from her. She tries to smile and reassure you that it’s ok, she’s fine, but her smile is visibly strained, she’s never had to fake it before so she doesn’t know how. She wears a vision, but it’s a fake one, because her pops said that maybe having it here would help and she agreed, tried to pretend for him that it does help, bu. It very obviously doesn’t.

Ayaka is horrified. She apologizes to Yoimiya, tries to think of ways to help her, but Yoi just laughs humorlessly. “It won’t ever touch you, princess.”

She’s immediately disgusted at herself and apologizes, tries to take it back, this isn’t her, she would never say this, and not to her friend! But also, it’s so hard to care now and she can’t remember why it’s so important to care at all.

Ayaka is shaken. Bc it’s true! She is a privileged noble, vision hunt will not come for her! She is playing at the resistance from the safety of anonymity, while people like Yoimiya actually risk themselves and pay the price!

And this is when the news that Thoma was arrested and about to be 100th vision taken at the feet of the statue comes. Tenryou commission truly strikes back.

Ayaka is in uproar. She’s ready to go herself and fight for Thoma, especially after Yoi’s words. She’s sick and tired of being a perfect princess, she can’t allow any more of her friends, her family come to harm because they don’t have her protection. Clearly Thoma being a theatrical execution is a blow specifically against Yashiro commission and Kamisato family in particular, and if Shogun has beef with her, well, she can settle it with HER instead of going after her friends!

Traveler stops her. This is what they want. If Ayaka openly moves against the Shogun, the entire Yashiro commission falls. Even if Ayaka is in the right! No, it’s the Traveler who will go to save Thoma

But traveler needs raiden’s good will for the info, they can’t confront raiden openly, it was the deal from the start!

But at this point traveler has seen too much, the divide in the country, the change and suffering of their own friends, and they can’t allow all of Yashiro commission take the fall.

This is when the Traveler decides to take a stand.

ACT 2

[vodika-vibes]

Rex x Reader

Pairing: Captain Rex x Reader

Word Count: 1736

Warnings: None

Songs: None

A/N: A half idea that I'm toying with, mostly. It is an AU. Plus, I feel like Rex should be written about more.

Divider by Saradika

“You know, I did tell you that this was a bad idea,” You say to your cousin as you sweep your flashlight from one side of the room to the other, making a face at the rotten wood, “I think I just saw a rat.”

“You probably did, Miss Priss.” Your older cousin, Yani, said with a roll of her eyes, “It’s not like anyone’s lived here in, like, years.”

“I think this building is a hazard,” You add as you direct the beam of light from your flashlight to the ceiling, which looks one violent sneeze away from total collapse.

Somehow your cousin manages to project her eye roll into her whole body, it would be impressive if it wasn’t so annoying. “You can always leave, baby cousin.” 

“Ugh. I didn’t say that I wanted to leave,” You counter defensively, turning the beam of light towards your cousin, “All I’m saying is that we need to be careful.”

“I definitely should have left you behind,” Yani says loudly, “Come on, the floor looks safe this way.”

“You can’t determine structural integrity by looks alone, Yani. You know that.” You reply, though you still follow after Yani. Exploring condemned houses is not your idea of fun, but you can’t let her go alone either.

The floor creaks loudly under your feet, and you’re careful to make sure to walk close to the walls. Theoretically the floor should be sturdier near the walls, right? Yani, however, bounces down the hall like she doesn’t have a care in the world.

“Why are you walking so slow? Hurry up!” Yani orders from the end of the hall.

You sigh, and weigh your options. And then you sigh again, Yani will absolutely leave you behind if you don’t keep up with her. So you step away from the wall.

Halfway down the hall, there’s a sickening crack, and your stomach falls as the floor gives way beneath you. You see Yani’s horrified face as you begin to fall and you hear her scream your name…and then the world goes black.

The first thing you note when you wake up is pain. Pain in your head, your arms, your back, and your legs.

You’ve never been in so much pain in your life.

You slowly open your eyes. You expect to be laying on concrete, or something, looking up at the hole that you fell through. But you’re not doing either.

You blink blearily, trying to understand what you’re looking at. It looks…well…it looks like Yani’s canopy bed. Only decorated in dark blue rather than Yani’s neon yellow. 

Slowly, very slowly, you sit up and look around.

You’re in a bedroom. A very nice looking bedroom, decorated in dark blues and whites. There aren’t any windows, but the room is comfortably lit with natural lighting from somewhere.

You slide to the edge of the bed, and swing your legs out from under the silky comforter, painfully getting to your feet.

You’ve been changed into a different outfit. And you’re covered in bandages, bacta infused bandages, based on the look of them.

You limp over to the door, each step like a knife into your feet and legs. You’re barely halfway across the room when the door clicks open, and a man steps into the room.

He looks just as surprised to see you as you are to see him.

He’s tall and broad, with blond hair. And he looks very concerned to see you up and about. “You should be resting,” He says. His voice is deep and soothing, somehow.

“Where am I?”

He pauses, and sets a tray of bandages and medical equipment on a table next to the door. “You’re in my home. I found you. You’re very badly hurt.” He gently, but firmly, guides you back to the bed and settles you back on the pillow, “My name is Rex. How are you feeling?”

“Bad,” You reply honestly, wincing in pain.

“You shouldn’t have tried to walk,” Rex chides, walking back over to the door and grabbing the tray of medical equipment. “I have some pain medicine and bandages for you. Let’s see if I can get you comfortable.”

You watch as he treats your injuries, his hands sure as they check and rewrap sutures. “Are you a doctor?”

“Hm? Oh, no. Some of my brothers are though. My brother Kix is the one who patched you up originally. I’m a soldier.” He pauses, “Or, well, I was a soldier. No need for soldiers when the war is long over.”

You tilt your head, “What war?”

He’s quiet for a long time, “Ah. Never mind that.” He presses a water bottle into your hand as well as some medicine, “Take these, it’ll help with the pain. And you’ll go back to sleep.”

“...thank you.”

Rex shakes his head, “Don’t worry about it.” He waits until you take the medicine, and then he takes the water bottle back, and waits until you drift off to sleep again.

It takes time for you to recover.

After a month of him caring for you, Rex admits that when he found you, every bone in your body was broken, and that the first time you woke up was after two weeks in a bacta tank to try and stabilize you. 

And slowly, very slowly, you come to view Rex as a friend. He’s calm and patient, and so very gentle with you, as though he’s afraid that he’s going to hurt you.

You question, only once, why you’re not in a hospital and why you’ve not seen your parents. Rex’s answer gives you only more questions than answers, but it’s easy to trust Rex, so when he asks you to not ask questions until you’re completely healed…well, it’s a simple thing, really.

In total, it takes you over four months to recover enough that you’re able to walk without pain. And Rex is there for every day.

“You’re doing much better,” Rex notes as he watches you go through physical therapy with the droid that he acquired for you. 

“I feel a lot better,” You agree as you limp over to a chair and settle on it. According to the droid, you would likely have the limp for the rest of your life, “Everything doesn’t hurt, at least.”

He smiles at you. “I’m glad to hear it. There was a time I worried you weren’t going to wake up.”

You shake your head, “You and your brothers have taken excellent care of me. I’m lucky I have you in my corner.”

His smile widens, and you blush slightly, averting your gaze from his, “I’m always happy to help, cyare.” Rex says easily.

He’s started calling you that recently, though whenever you ask when it means, he just grins at you and tells you that it is a nickname and it’s nothing bad.

“I know you are. You’ve done…more than I would expect from a stranger.” You get back to your feet, wincing as your bad leg twinges uncomfortably.

“And you’ve done too much, cyare.” Rex replies as he gets to his feet and walks over to help support your weight.

His hand is warm against you, and you lean into his warmth without really thinking about it. Rex smiles down at you, “Trying to leech my warmth, cyare?” He jokes.

“I wouldn’t have to if it wasn’t so cold in here.” You grumble.

“Maybe I keep it cold to have an excuse to have you pressed against me.” Rex says easily.

You blush dark red, and bump him with your shoulder, “You shouldn’t say stuff like that.” You mumble, “I might actually start believing you.”

Rex shifts and brushes his lips against your ear, “That’s the point, cyare.” And then he pulls away and winks at you, “Come on, I had your favorite lunch made.”

You’re blushing even more, “You spoil me.”

“Yup.” Rex guides you out of the exercise room and down the hall, but he stops before getting to the dining room.

“Rex?”

“I’m in love with you,” He says quietly, and then he laughs as your jaw drops and your face burns, he reaches out and lightly brushes his thumb against your lower lip, “Can I kiss you?”

“...yes please.” You whisper.

You barely manage to get the phrase out, before his lips are on yours. His lips are warm and dry, and so very gentle against yours. He breaks the kiss for only a moment, before his lips are back against yours. The second kiss is deeper and more desperate than the first, and your back bumps against the wall as you hook your arms around his neck and his hand slides around to cup the back of your neck.

He breaks the kiss and presses his forehead against yours. You’re both gasping for air, and Rex leans in to kiss you again. And then he closes his eyes and, with great effort, he moves back to give himself some space.

You look up at him, confused, and he laughs, “Can’t think when I’m that close to you.” Rex admits, “There are…I need to tell you some things. The truth about some things.” He murmurs, “Should have told you ages ago. Don’t want you to leave me though.”

You blink at him, hazily, “You’re married?”

He laughs, “No. No, I’m not.” He pauses, to collect his thoughts, “When you fell,” Rex began, “You fell a little further than you thought, or than I ever thought possible. I, we, had no idea that it was possible for someone to fall from the Mortal Realm into ours.”

“Rex…what?”

He sighs, “Cyare, you fell from the mortal realm into the realm of the fallen.” He grips your hip tightly, “The realm of demons. We…we don’t know how to send you back to your mortal realm.”

You gape at him, “So…you’re a demon?”

“Captain of one of the many Demonic Battalions, in fact.” Rex admits. 

You hesitate, and then you nod slowly, “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay.” You confirm. “You’re…Rex, you’re you. I’m not more afraid of you now than I was 10 minutes ago. You’re Rex.” You say, as if it is the most obvious thing in the world. Which, really, it is.

Tension drains from his shoulders, “You’re not leaving me.”

“Of course not.”

You squeak when his lips crash back against yours. One of his hands tangles in your hair, while the other one slides around your back, pulling you flush against him. “Thank you,” he breathes against your lips, before pulling you back into another deep kiss.

[spicebiter]

Stardew Valley Mod Recommendations

My roommate is gonna be playing Stardew Valley soon and asked me for mod recommendations. As I have over 100 active mods and that's a lot to send links to, and I love to talk, I decided to just make a post about my favorites.

I will leave links and a small blurb about many under the cut (this is gonna get long) but I'll be separating things into categories like Gameplay, Quality of Life, Visuals, and of course Expansions on the story and such.

Time to be overly thorough

Expansions

Stardew Valley Expanded - I'm sure this is a common recommendation but I find it's solid. The mod covers multiple additions from new characters, a new farm layout, and additional story arcs and realms to explore. It works well and nothing feels far off from the original game, and the integration of new characters with pre-existing is extremely well done.

Ridgeside Village - Another fairly popular expansion. This one is, imo, not quite as solid as SVE in that it has a few bugs and is a touch less complete but considering its size there's bound to be a problem or two. Integration with the vanilla game is also less seamless with the villagers typically being in their own off shoot during events, though given that this is a somewhat separate town that's also not a downside so much as something you might like to know.

DeepWoods - My favorite small expansion. Essentially the mines but a forest. This one is still a work in progress as there is a story being introduced to work alongside the forest's inner workings but its bones are very solid. Has a sword in the stone, a unicorn, and is a wonderful source of hardwood.

Hat Shop Restoration - What it says on the tin, really. Fixes up the hat mouse's shop. I find this one really cute. Hat mouse deserves a nice house :3

Textures and Appearance Overhauls

Less Ugly Spouse Rooms - Pretty straightforward. The same person has a mod for the interiors of the town but I personally prefer this one alone.

Seasonal Outfits - A very nice mod giving characters a new look every season, whose creator has also made one for the characters in SVE. A few of the portraits are overhauled more than others- I personally turn off the Elliot module because I like his original portrait and this mod changes him quite a bit.

Garden Statue Obelisks - Not a texture pack but a full replacement of the obelisks with classical-style statues.

Elle's Cat Replacements, Dog Replacements, New Barn Animals, and New Coop Animals - Recolors for the animals, in a nutshell. With multiple colors for every animal you can set up your ideal look, and even change your barn animals to deer and alpaca. In the same vein:

Truffle Foxes - Replaces the pigs with foxes. I'm a big fan of foxes so this one was just indulgent for me, honestly.

Medieval Buildings - Allows you to change the structures on your farm to a more medieval style. Most have multiple options for style and amount of greenery, and each one can be turned off completely if you'd like to preserve the look of any specific structure. This mod creator has an extensive line of mods to match this one, including one to apply to the whole of Pelican town and another to change the look of craftable items but I'm personally satisfied with the farm buildings alone.

Catcrows - A simple re-texture for the various scarecrows to make them cat themed. Can be toggled between normal cats and themed cats to match the variety of the rarecrows

Dynamic Reflections - Deceptively simple in title but a newfound favorite of mine. Puts your reflection on bodies of water for an added layer of depth but also reflects the night sky on clear days. I didn't think having this mod would make much of a difference for me but it really does make me more keen to walk about at night.

Note: The following furniture texture packs I will be recommending are not applied directly but are customizable through the use of the Alternative Textures mod. With this mod you can choose between any number of texture options these packs provide for individual furniture pieces.

Aster's Big Furniture Pack - A texture pack with a slew of different options. There's a lot of very cute options ranging from basic alternatives for bed appearances to turning furniture into a large bathtub.

Industrial Furniture - Another texture pack, this one providing a more modern/industrial feeling to furniture.

Quality of Life and Gameplay Changes

Almanac - This one is nice to have without being too 'immersion breaking', I like to think. A farmer's almanac, essentially, that lets you know when the last ideal day to plant crops occurs, where and when to find fish, and weather patterns for the coming season. Information like what can be found on each floor of the mines and your luck for each day can be toggled on or off depending on your preference.

Lookup Anything - A little bit like having the wiki in game. This one might seem a little more on the cheat side but if you planned to have the wiki open anyway this saves you a lot of trouble. As far as I know it doesn't have an option to show villager schedules but otherwise provides most of the information you'll need.

UI Info Suite - Puts little icons below the clock menu indicating a variety of things that can be toggled on or off according to preference including but not limited to when the traveling cart is in town, what your luck for the day is, daily birthdays, and if it will rain the next day. Extremely helpful; if I could only have one of the three already mentioned here this would be my first choice.

Timespeed - Another one that can seem a bit like a cheat at first given that you can completely stop time with a single button press, which admittedly can be handy, but this one can be used in a much more fair way. Ten minutes in Stardew Valley only takes 8 seconds to pass and even before expanding the gameplay and story options this can seem like not enough. I personally have it set to give me 20 seconds per ten in-game minutes which is only a little more than double vanilla speed but makes it feel like I actually have time for the things I need to do. This one is customizable down to the way time moves in different areas and time speed can be changed outside of its setup menu temporarily for when you need time to move faster or slower than you have it set briefly.

Bigger Backpack - A third backpack expansion that costs 50,000 gold (though this can be set to a different price if so desired). Another handy one given just how much certain expansions can add.

Friends Forever - Removes relationship decay from the game. Already a solid QoL type addition but even more so if you choose to mod in expansions- The character roster fills up quick.

Free Love - Lets you marry/live with multiple characters.

NPC Map Locations - What it says on the tin, really. Removes a lot of guesswork and need to look up character's schedules. Even works with many expansions.

Sit for Stamina - I find this one to add some realism. It's kinda silly to waste the day when you could just take a break once your stamina is low.

Instant Tool Upgrades - No more wait for upgrades. Feels very gracious when you're in early game, especially.

Auto Animal Doors - Opens and closes the barn and coop doors at designated times. These times can be set according to preference and you can set this mod to only work for a certain level of barn and coop if you'd like to treat it as a perk of upgrading.

Skip Fishing Minigame - I mean... c'mon...

Extended Minecart - I just think it's neat. It's not the most necessary mod but the longer you play the more I feel that that little walk from the bus stop to home is a slog, y'know?

Deluxe Journal - Lets you make custom tasks and take notes. Sooo helpful when you have trouble remembering what you were working at last time you played.

And that's it!

This is a non-exhaustive list, of course. I only included my favorites so there's no accounting for personal aesthetics and varying gameplay styles but if you're not sure what to get this can hopefully give you some ideas.

[ninjaneonleon]

Honestly, Leo was in awe of all the other versions of his family scattered around the large arena. He was pretty sure he’d seen some of them that looked human—he wasn’t sure how that was a thing—he’d seen a few that looked to be different species of turtle, and somewhere across the arena he had seen a version of himself covered in bandages with a dead look in his eye. That guy scared him. He hoped they didn’t come face to face. Even so, this whole competition was so cool!

Donnie had ridden his robot horse in the last heat, and of course it had exploded right at the finish line. The Leo he’d been riding against apparently had fallen off just before the finish line, meaning the two turtles crossed the line together without their horses. Leo had suspected the other Leo had been a little ahead of his Donnie but it was decided to be a tie. He wasn’t sure what that would mean for his team but Leo was more than happy to keep mingling while he waited to find out.

He spotted the duo watching the heat from the other stand. An older Leo and an older Mikey. They weren’t the only two older versions around but for some reason, they stood out to Leo. Maybe because they had been cheering on their little Leo with so much enthusiasm.

Being the analyst he was, Leo decided to see what he could figure out about them. First thing to note: malnutrition. They hadn’t been eating well for a long while. It made them seem older than they first appeared, especially the older Mikey with his white tufts of hair sticking out a little crazily out the side of this head. Without the malnutrition factors, Leo would place them to be in their fourties.

Big Leo kept glancing around and Big Mikey was tense, his hands twitching and his body ready. Huh. Anxiety maybe? Or wait, no, PTSD of some description. They were used to being in high-stress environments and this inter dimensional silliness was setting them on edge.

That trauma idea was further backed up when Leo realized that Big Leo had a stump for an arm and that one of Big Mikey’s legs was a prosthetic. It was weird though. Leo hadn’t been able to tell it was fake.

Wait, he just saw the toes on the prosthetic wiggle when Big Mikey stretched.

No. Way.

Leo’s body reacted before he realized what he was doing. He zapped closer to the duo, waving his arms to get their attention so he didn’t spook them. “Hey! Hi! Can I talk to you guys for a sec?”

Big Leo blinked then shrugged, hopping easily down from the stands. Big Mikey just floated down easily. Leo knew that his Mikey would manage to get that kinda thing, being able to float, under control eventually.

“Hey, uh, Leo? How can we help?” Big Leo asked.

“Hi! I think your team is against my team,” Leo started, flapping his hands to try and keep his energy in check. “I just have a weird question. Can I see your prosthetic?” He looked at Big Mikey, eyes wide and excited.

The box turtle looked stunned for a second before shifting and showing off the metal leg. It seemed to be connected directly to the stump somehow and Leo noted how the ankle joint definitely wouldn’t move like that without input. Oh Pizza Supreme, it was just as he thought!

“This is amazing! Is it controlled by your muscular structure or your nervous system? Is it heavy? It can clearly take some abuse. It’s been through a lot but it’s still running so smoothly. Oh, is it powered through kinetics or does it have an internal power system?”

Leo’s questions were cut off by a small snort. “Since when can any Leo speak technobabble?” Big Mikey joked. Then he took a breath. “Let’s start at the beginning. I’m Angelo, he’s Leon. We’re from a Kraang timeline. That’s how we lost our limbs.”

“What’s a Kraang?” Leo asked with a frown. He didn’t miss how the older turtles’ eyes widened but that wasn’t important right now. “Tell me later. I just need to know how you guys did it! That level of integration with your prosthesis isn’t going to be viable for decades! Maybe even a century! It’s so smooth and behaving like a normal limb.”

“Well, our Donnie—”

“Oh, shoot, right. Hold that thought.” Leo turned and picked out where his Donnie, covered with soot and somewhat bruised, was standing. “Fizzy!” Leo called before zapping over, grabbing Donnie, and zapping back. “Sorry, I know my twin will want to hear this too. Please continue.”

“Nardo, what are you doing? I was waiting for the resul— Oh. Is that—”

“A fully integrated prosthesis with a full range of natural motion, seemingly controlled by a nervous system? Yes, I believe it is,” Leo said as cut Donnie off with a grin. “That’s why I brought you over here. Angelo and Leon were about to explain.”

“You have my interest. Please continue.” Donnie gestured to the two older turtles, leaning against Leo. There was a pause as Leon and Angleo studied him and his twin. Angleo opened his mouth to say something when a bell cut him off.

“Attention, please. All ties will now be resolved by the tied teams teaming up! The next round is karaoke so everyone rest your voices!”

“Guess that means we’re a team now.” Leon chuckled. “C’mon. Let me grab our Leo and his bros and you can grab your brothers, then we can all get some food while Angelo explains the prosthetic.”

Leo lit up. “Awesome! C’mon, Fizz, let’s go!”

———————

So this has my and @geniusbuilttm version of Leo and Donnie meeting @newellthedragon ‘s future Leo and mikey. Go check out her stuff, it’s super cool!

Vote for Surp-rise! And An Arm and a Leg in @tmntausummit !

[dark-eraser-publishing]

Hypothetical Rewrite: Ochaco Uraraka

Okay so here's on I know a lot of people were waiting for because a common criticism people had with MHA was its depiction of female characters which makes it worse do to the fact that the creator has shown that he could do so much with these characters but never lets them do anything plot relevant. And Uraraka is easily patient zero of this, because they are so many things that she's been shown to able to do in the main series that make her lack of relevancy worse especially with the fact with her and Ida being established as Midoriya's best friends and they get sideline in favor of Bakugo and Todoroki as the series progresses toward the finally. I will say this in advance that I will admit I have no idea how I can integrate Ida do to him and Kubo (The name for Midoriya that I'm using for the hypothetical rewrite and coming up with a character arc for him is hard) If you have any idea's let me know.

Back on topic in rewrite like I brought up in my part for All Might she's going to teach Airi something that will help her improve herself and truly become the greatest hero she can be. Her lesson; Love, now when I say that I don't mean love in a romantic sense (though that will happen) I also mean the ability to love yourself; making sure you put your well-being and happiness in high regards. I mean this is a lesson abuse victims should definitely learn a hell of a lot more than making nice with their abuser.

I want her to become the first real friend that Airi makes and become the one that encourages her to improve her mental state which in turn makes her quirk more powerful and make Airi a lot braver. Don't worry she's not going to be relegated to Manic Pixie Dream Girl status as she'll still have her reason for becoming a pro for the money and I thought with this level of relevancy that she should be someone that advocates for Japan's work ethics culture to change due to the fact of overwork/underpay is extremely rampant in the country to the point that population decline is an issue because of its work ethic (I know weebs are going to accuse me of xenophobia because I'm criticizing how capitalism is effecting Japan since it also applies to the anime and manga industry but they're objectively the last people you should talk to about when it comes to what it's like in Japan)

She also going to become the first person One for All's power amplification is going to work on due to their friendship and how it's going to work in her case is going to extend her reach in a way that will make it almost look like telekinesis and give her more time before she develops nausea. As for her fighting style while she is going to specialize in rescues more so, she will have learned aikido and systema just in case she'd have to fight back against any villains that could bring harm to others.

Now on the costume I honestly don't mind it too much especially because it has a massive resemblance to an astronaut but I thought that if we're trying to make the protagonist a shounen action hero that we need a partner that's on other side of the coin should be a magical girl protagonist. So the costume I'm thinking more a retro sci-fi aesthetic much like what the female characters in the Jetsons would wear with a cowl that goes over her head covering up her hair and that same cowl having a visor for extra protection and keep her from being nauseous; it also has an AR set that analyzes building structures, medical analysis, keeps in contact with allies, and up to date on villain activities.

The attire also has a pair of wrist and ankle bands that release air pressure that help her use her quirk to fly the same device is also on her belt. Her belt also is equipped with metal canisters that contain medicine, bandages, and a means of arresting villains as well as the canisters can be used to knock out an opponent using her quirk.

Name: Mochizuki Koroya

Hero: Starlight

Quirk: Zero Gravity

· Negates the gravity of any physical thing

[Part 2]

[umichenginabroad]

Blog Post 3: Classes

Bonjour! This is Andrew, back again with another update from my study abroad adventure in Paris! In this post, I'll dive into the nitty-gritty of our course structure. Also, as a passionate photographer who loves to snap pictures of everything, expect random photos sprinkled throughout this post. Hope you enjoy them as much as I enjoyed taking them!

Photo 1: Luxembourg Train Station

Course Structure

Alright, let’s talk academics. I’m taking two courses here in Paris: Differential Equations and Photography, both through the CEA CAPA program. Classes are held Monday through Thursday, each lasting two and a half hours. I know, sounds long, right? But trust me, it’s pretty manageable and even fun at times.

Photo 2: Bus?

Differential Equations

First up, Differential Equations. If you’re like me, the mere mention of differential equations might send a shiver down your spine. But let’s be real, it’s a crucial part of our math journey, and the professor here makes it surprisingly engaging. The class is intensive, but the teaching approach is hands-on, with plenty of real-world applications.

Instead of just lecturing at us, the professor integrates interactive elements into the lessons. We frequently break into small groups to tackle problems together, which not only makes the class more dynamic but also helps us learn from each other. There’s a strong emphasis on understanding the underlying principles rather than just memorizing formulas, which makes the material feel more accessible and less intimidating.

What really stands out are the real-world applications. We don’t just solve equations for the sake of it; we explore how these concepts are used in various fields like engineering, physics, and even economics. For instance, one of our projects involved modeling population dynamics using differential equations, which was both challenging and fascinating. It’s amazing to see how these abstract concepts can be applied to solve actual problems.

Photo 3: Boat?

The workload is consistent but not overwhelming. Expect regular problem sets, but they’re all about reinforcing what we’ve learned in class, not about drowning us in work. These assignments are designed to challenge us just enough to ensure we’re grasping the material without feeling overburdened. There are also occasional quizzes and exams, but they’re fair and reflective of what we’ve covered in class.

We also have access to plenty of resources to help us succeed. The professor holds office hours twice a week, which is a great opportunity to get one-on-one help. There’s also a peer study group that meets after class, where we can collaborate and help each other out with difficult concepts.

Honestly, once you get into the groove, it’s quite manageable. The combination of engaging teaching, practical applications, and a supportive learning environment makes this class one of the highlights of my academic experience here in Paris. So, if differential equations sound daunting, don’t worry—you might just end up enjoying them as much as I do!

Photo 4: Random photo on an abandoned boat we found lol

Photography

Now, let’s talk about Photography. This class is a breath of fresh air, quite literally. We get to explore Paris with our cameras, capturing the essence of the city through various assignments. The instructor is incredibly passionate and knowledgeable, providing us with both technical skills and artistic insights.

From the very first class, we dove straight into the fundamentals. We started with understanding our cameras—everything from adjusting aperture, shutter speed, and ISO settings to mastering manual mode. The instructor made sure everyone was comfortable with their equipment before moving on to more creative aspects. We learned about composition rules, such as the rule of thirds and leading lines, which transformed our approach to framing shots.

As we progressed, we delved into more advanced techniques. We experimented with different lighting conditions, both natural and artificial, and learned how to manipulate light to create mood and depth in our photos. One memorable assignment involved shooting during the golden hour, capturing the soft, warm light that transforms everyday scenes into something magical.

Photo 5: Look at this handsome gentleman in the streets of Loire Valley

The best part? The city itself is our classroom. Each week, we embark on photo walks to iconic places like Le Louvre, Montmartre, and the charming streets of Le Marais. These excursions are not only about taking pictures but also about seeing the city through a new lens (pun intended). The instructor guides us on these walks, pointing out interesting angles, unique perspectives, and hidden gems that we might have otherwise missed. It’s an incredible way to learn and explore simultaneously.

The workload here is light and enjoyable—mainly focused on weekly assignments that encourage us to experiment and develop our own style. These assignments are varied and creative. For example, one week we might focus on street photography, capturing candid moments of daily life in Paris, while another week we might work on a themed project, like reflections or shadows. The feedback sessions are invaluable; we get to showcase our work, receive constructive critiques, and learn from each other’s perspectives.

And let’s be honest, who wouldn’t love a class that involves strolling around Paris and taking photos? It’s a perfect blend of education and leisure. Plus, the skills we’re gaining are not just for the classroom. They’re tools we can use long after the course ends, whether it’s for personal projects, professional work, or just enhancing our travel photography.

Overall, the Photography class is a highlight of my time here in Paris. It’s not just about learning technical skills, but about seeing the world in a new way and capturing the beauty around us. It’s an experience that’s enriching, inspiring, and incredibly fun.

Photo 6: Supra Sighting in Luxembourg?!?!

Overall Experience

Both courses complement each other perfectly. Differential Equations challenges my analytical side, while Photography nurtures my creative side. Having classes only four days a week means we get three-day weekends to explore Paris and beyond, which is a huge plus. It’s the perfect balance of academics and adventure.

In summary, the courses at CEA CAPA are structured in a way that’s rigorous yet enjoyable. The long classes might sound daunting at first, but the engaging content and excellent teaching make them fly by. Plus, the manageable workload means we have plenty of time to soak in all the wonders Paris has to offer.

Thanks for sticking with me through this post! If you have any questions about the courses or just want to chat about study abroad experiences, feel free to reach out. Until next time, au revoir!

Hsien-Cheng Chou (Andrew Chou)

Mechanical Engineering

Engineering in Paris

[imagining-in-the-margins]

The Birds & The Bees (S.R. | Pt. 4)

Summary: Reader has a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day, which her Professor is hellbent on making a little bit better. A/N: If y’all thought you hated Kyle (bathroom bitch boy), just wait until you meet the new antagonist (of the female variety) here... I hope you all enjoy! 😚 Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Slow Burn (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Sexual themes/fantasies Word Count: 6.3k

MASTERLIST | Series Masterlist

——————————————————

Einstein once attributed his genius to his childlike sense of humor. Studies performed since then have largely proven his point — funny people tend to have higher IQs, which makes sense when you consider the cognitive and emotional intelligence required to produce humor.

Spencer Reid was no exception. The only problem was that his humor was so remarkably niche and impossibly specific that barely anyone could understand the punchline. He insisted to me that he’d gotten better over the years, which I only barely believed… until he told me a joke that hadn’t left my mind since. A joke that he described as ‘just crude enough to make it palatable to the layman.’

"Caffeine and Viagra are both phosphodiesterase inhibitors,” he’d said — a slow start if there had ever been such a thing. But I held on to hope, hanging on the ecstatic, guileless smile he wore. And boy, was I glad I did, because what he’d said next broke me into a frankly embarrassing fit of giggles that returned with the memory every time.

“Which explains why both of these drugs keep you up all night."

The poor barista stuck working the busy early morning shift eyed me like I’d grown two heads when I once again devolved into laughter for no apparent reason. I almost felt embarrassed about it, but then I reassured myself that if she’d heard Dr. Spencer Reid tell a drug-induced-boner joke, she would also laugh about it forever.

I’d been thinking about him a lot lately. Not in a perverse way, either, despite his increasing comfort in breaching such topics in my presence. It was more like I’d started to infuse him into my every day, finding him in whatever way my brain would allow. While I made my way to his office, I breathed in the soothing scent drifting from the cups that were precariously perched in flimsy cardboard.

The smell took me back to quiet moments in his office. The kind of simple serenity that accompanied silence between two people who need not speak to share ideas. Where the second you looked away, you felt their eyes follow you, like the universe couldn’t maintain its structural integrity without one of you looking at the other.

It was intoxicating and alluring; so easy to lose myself in. Something I knew was dangerous for a number of reasons.

For example, when I am not paying the utmost attention to my surroundings, I have a tendency to lose track of where I am and what I’m doing. I also tend to… drop things. Especially hot and otherwise dangerous things.

Things like the two cups of coffee that finally became too much for shallow, defective cardboard.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” I screeched as I became acutely aware of every place where scorching hot, drenched clothing hung on angry skin. Normally, I would at least try to sound more dignified while on my way to work, but it hardly seemed like it mattered anymore.

I was too busy hurriedly tearing at my shirt and dropping everything else I was holding. I’d gotten three whole buttons on my shirt popped by the time I remembered it wasn’t technically necessary. I dropped my bag immediately at the thought, tugging on the hem of the shirt and trying to bring it over my head.

Unfortunately, I still hadn’t regained my grace, and in the muddled mess of fabric, I’d also grabbed hold of my undershirt. Which meant that whoever was walking through the empty halls of the early morning in academia would find me, with my stomach exposed and clothing dripping while unintelligible curses flowed freely from my lips.

I expected most people would probably just turn around and leave. I probably would’ve. The giant splatter of coffee and the absolute idiot slipping in it were beyond saving.

But there was at least one person who saw the mess and stayed.

I smelled his cologne before I felt his hand was pressed over the bare skin of my lower back. Despite the fact my skin was burning, it welcomed the warmth of his touch. My body stopped at his command, waiting for him to break me free of the paradoxically frozen state I was in.

He pulled the shirt back down, just enough that I could see him when he wrapped his cardigan around my shoulders and started guiding me into his office, which I’d somehow managed to almost walk straight past in my daze. I wished that I could go back there, to the imaginary world where he hadn’t just seen me half disrobed and cursing while covered in the coffee that I’d meant to give to him.

Spencer’s hands left me once the door was shut, probably trusting, or at least hoping, that I could figure out the mess on my own. Oddly enough, I didn’t notice any signs of him staring at me. Like he only felt comfortable looking when I was clothed.

I tried not to think about it. Once I did manage to free myself of one of the shirts — without further flashing my boss — the anxiety brewing inside of me burst out in the form of frantic shouting.

“Hi Professor! I’m so sorry, I spilled the coffee!”

“Yeah, I... saw the puddle,” he mumbled, throwing a cursory glance back at the hallway before his eyes met mine with a terrifying level of compassion, “Are you alright?”

“Besides the boiling liquid on my skin and the horrid embarrassment? I guess,” I mumbled back before shouting, “Shit! This is why that woman sued McDonald’s! Why do stores serve coffee like that?!”

Spencer didn’t really say anything. In fact, he kind of just stood as frozen as I had been, staring at everything around me rather than meeting my eyes again. But while he seemed somewhat cool and composed, I continued to tug at my clothes to try and avoid the friction. It was then that he cleared his throat, covering his face just like he’d done when he saw me in an arguably more provocative position the week before.

Arguably, I said. I should have known that Spencer would win any argument. I should have considered why he was making such a point of not looking at me while I clawed at the white undershirt turned beige. But I didn’t. Not until I looked down to inspect the state of my skin.

I realized then that Spencer had been trying to figure out a way to inform me that not only had the coffee turned my shirt a different shade — it had also eliminated the opacity.

He could see my bra. Spencer Reid, my boss, was trying not to stare at my very clearly visible bra.

“God, this is the worst Monday of all Mondays!” I whined between half-sobs, “and Mondays are already bad, Professor!”

There must have been something else in that cry, too. Something akin to permission. Enough for him to step closer, managing to avoid looking at my chest in the process. I’d entirely forgotten that he’d wrapped me in his cardigan until he pulled it tighter around my shoulders like his own version of an embrace.

“That they are, Bunny.”

If my skin had been heated before, it turned to flames at the use of the nickname. It was honestly a pure work of magic that the liquid on me didn’t turn vaporize the second I’d heard the word.

Bunny?

I pushed the thought away as quick as humanly possible, focusing instead on the way my clothes were going from uncomfortably hot to frigid as a result of the usually refreshing air conditioning. But when I was once again reminded of the obvious undergarment, I sighed.

“I can probably ask a friend to bring me a replacement shirt, or just go to class like this,” I thought aloud, “No one really looks at me, anyway...”

Spencer’s response came immediately, his hands flying up in protest as he shouted, “No!”

I wasn’t quite sure how to reply to that, or even which part of the statement he was objecting to, so he was met with a wide-eyed, slow blinking stare.

“I-I mean, I have a shirt you can borrow. I don’t want to subject you to any further embarrassment,” he explained at a significantly more appropriate volume, “You can just wear my extra shirt.”

He turned away from me before I could respond, shuffling through something hidden beneath his desk that created more questions than answers for me.

“Why do you have an extra shirt?”

“Go bag,” he said in the most nondescript manner. It wasn’t necessarily abnormal, either. The question I’d asked didn’t spark any concerns in his mind, but it also wasn’t the question that I felt needed to be asked.

What I really wanted to say was caught in my throat. My hands clamped together in front of me tighter than my jaw that resisted opening to make way for the thoughts that felt more scandalous than they should’ve been.  

“U-Um, Professor don’t you think—“

“Here you go,” he offered with a smile. I took the large, plain black shirt with a hefty dose of caution, my hands shaking along with my broken voice that still couldn’t finish the sentence from before.

Spencer finally noticed the struggle on my face, and I watched his body move from comfortable to defensive in a matter of seconds. Like he was worried he’d done something wrong in trying to be kind.

He hadn’t, but I felt like I had.

“Won’t people... you know?” I mumbled, motioning a hand between the two of us, “I’m showing up to your class at 8AM wearing your clothes…”

I thought that the words alone would be enough. I thought that the gesture was overkill. But Spencer was still staring at me with his head cocked to the side and his eyes narrowed in thought.

I was going to have to say it.

Won’t they think we’re having sex?

There was no way I was going to be able to say it.

“Aren’t you concerned about people getting… the wrong idea?” I blurted out, instead.

The confusion on his face shifted to a clever little self-assured smirk so fast that I almost missed the transition. My stomach flipped from the sight, but then he spoke again, and what had felt like it was filled with butterflies turned to rocks.

“I’d much rather them gossip about something that’s not happening than watch the young boys ogle you instead of paying attention.”

It wasn’t the words, but the way that he’d said them. Like they were silly, like the idea of us being together was so preposterous it could only be entertained by people he perceived to be children.

I was foolish, too.

“Don’t worry about them,” he said with a wave, “Just worry about making this Monday a little bit better.”

“O-okay. Thanks,” I whispered, turning and running from the room only to be reminded of the mess I’d made. But the pool of tawny liquid on the floor wasn’t the most disastrous thing anymore. That honor was reserved for the state of my heart, begrudgingly continuing to beat despite being broken.

Scooping up my bag that I’d abandoned before, I tried to allow myself to be happy about the little things. For instance, the fact that the shirt Spencer had handed me was probably the softest thing I’d ever felt in my life. It made sense, considering the sensory issues he always described.

Still, I waited until I was in the safety of a bathroom stall before I buried my face in the fabric. It smelled just like him, a mixture of freshly done laundry and vanilla. Much better than the cheap, burnt coffee that covered me. Funny enough, that sort of smelled like him, too.

By the time I slipped into his clothes, I had almost forgotten his joke entirely. I was too lost in the joy of sweater paws from his cardigan and fabric that felt like a hug. Or at least, what I’d imagined a hug from him would be like.

The energy it provided me was a better pick-me-up than any cup of coffee had ever been. I kept my squealing as quietly as I could, bouncing in place just like the nickname he’d chosen to let stick. But before I returned to him, I felt something. A small, noticeable weight in one of the cardigan pockets.

If I’d thought about it for longer than five seconds, if I’d reminded myself that they were his clothes and not mine, I would’ve let it be. I wouldn’t have pulled the little object from its safe hiding spot. It would have stayed locked away, leaving me none the wiser of its presence.

But I didn’t think about it, and then there I was, holding onto the sobriety token I should’ve seen coming.

Not that it was a bad thing; I already knew Spencer had a history with drugs. He’d mentioned it in passing in class and was deeply involved with a number of volunteer programs around the area. At one point, I’d even taken it upon myself to research his history.

That research, while I regretted it now, feeling that it violated his privacy some way or another, led me to a second conclusion. As my thumb ghosted over the embossed number five, I realized that Spencer had been sober since he was released from prison.

My heart swelled with pride and relief that felt shameful. I didn’t want the token to have such a profound effect on the image of him I’d already crafted in my mind. Lord knew I didn’t need any more reasons to idolize him. And, at the end of the day, I’d only discovered this information by happenstance.

Part of respect, I decided, meant ignoring the way that fate seemed to push us together. If Spencer ever wanted my opinion on his sobriety or strength, surely, he would just ask. So, I slipped the chip back into the pocket and made my way back to him without worry for what it meant.

While I had no worries, Spencer was another story. I’d barely even made it through the door when he saw me. All of the papers he’d been holding immediately fell from his hands the same way the coffee had fallen from mine.

“Oh no! My clumsiness was contagious!” I laughed, bolting over to help him only to find his face an unhealthy shade of red. He chuckled back but said nothing else as he scrambled to pick up the loose-leaf that had splayed itself all over the floor.

Once we were back on our feet and as collected as we could be considering the circumstances of the morning thus far, his eyes met mine again. His cheeks were still flushed, unable to focus on anything specific and choosing to traverse my body the same way his hands had on Halloween.

“Sorry,” he mumbled in a way that made me wonder if he knew I could hear him, “I was distracted by how unfair it is that you look better in my clothes than I do.”

It was my turn to be flustered, but Spencer didn’t let the moment drag on. He tore himself away from me in every sense of the word, marching past me and halfway exiting the room before he found the courage to look at me again.

“Are you ready to head to class?” he asked as if it were an option.

I suppose to him, it was. For a second I imagined what the future would hold for us if I’d said no. What would he have done if I begged him to stay with me, instead? What if we rebelled against expectation and remained locked away in his office until we grew tired of one another? What if we never did?

My mind filled with fantasies of Spencer’s hands freely feeling my skin the way his clothes could. I could hear soft, breathy sounds of desire shaped like my name. For all of my inexperience, he would still find me intoxicating. He would grow drunk on me the same way a child finds endless joy in sweets that really ought to make them sick.

Then again, maybe he had grown used to the sugar. Maybe he wanted something more mature, a bitterness like molasses that was only earned from years I hadn’t had yet.

Regardless, I couldn’t really get into any of that. Instead, I just flashed a very awkward thumbs up to the man fifteen years my elder when I droned, “Sure am, Professor man.”

As stupid as it felt to do something so juvenile, the smile he gave was worth it.

“Alright then, Bunny,” he answered with his own little peace sign, “Let’s hop along.”

——————————————————

It hadn’t even been a week since I saw her, scantily clad in the plush, socially acceptable equivalent of lingerie. It’d been even less time since I admitted my own weakness to her. I’d replayed the memories of her visceral responses to my touch enough times that I should be sick of it. But there was no tiring of her.

I considered deleting the photos she’d sent me, convinced that it was cruel to keep them when she’d only sent them while inebriated and undoubtedly exhausted beyond belief.

But when I woke up in the morning, my stomach still reeling from the knowledge of what I’d done, all that she’d sent was a curious collection of emotes and a very brief note.

“Oops!” she’d written, “Bad bunny?”

I put that phrase out of my mind immediately, unable to handle the way it incited the desire for destruction in my veins.

“I’m always glad to hear that you are safe.”

That was the end of the conversation, and I was grateful for that much. Even the few words we’d exchanged would haunt me until I saw her again. Of course, the torture ended there, but only for a few seconds before it was replaced with other images and words.

It’d been hours since I’d found her flailing about half-naked in the hall while uttering rushed curses that sounded too crude for her lips. It’d been hours since I felt the soft skin of her lower back and became lost in an entirely different set of fantasies.

It’d been even less time since I saw her standing at my door, pulling on the sleeves of my sweater and staring at me with nervous, shifty glances. Completely unaware of just how beautiful she was in her simplicity. How much more torturous it was to see her wearing my clothes than any lustful suffering that lingerie or nudity could elicit.

I thought that it would get better throughout the day, but it didn’t. It only got worse.

I’d stepped out of my office for barely half an hour, but I returned to find her curled up on the plush chair. Her shoes were slipped off, revealing colorful socks that clashed with every other neutral color she wore. It somehow made me want her even more.

I stayed stuck for a few seconds longer, watching her with bated breath and shameless admiration. She was so caught up in the papers on her lap that she didn’t even notice my presence until the door clicked shut. It was then that she turned to see me, allowing a smile to blossom across her face despite eyes narrowed with suspicion.

“What’s all of this?” she asked, gesturing to the collection of bags hanging from my wrists.  

“Did you know…” I started before my heart stopped at how she always leaned forward with excitement whenever I started a sentence that way, “that food is one of the best ways to solve a terrible Monday?”

“Which scientific study did you get that from?”

I paused again, debating telling her the many studies that would support such a theory, but then decided against it. Instead, I sought out her laughter and childlike joy that always brought out the best of her.

“Garfield,” I answered.

Sure enough, the office filled with the melodious sound of her happiness. I moved as quietly as I could, thinking back to when I was younger and thought of how powerful bottled laughter would be if I could capture it. Hers would surely right so many wrongs.

“You don’t have to take it if you don’t want to, but I figure it’s the least I could do.”

She approached me to assist before I’d even made it to my desk, and although I thought her hands were far too soft to be bothered with something like this, I allowed her to help.

“You could do nothing, you know. It was my own fault.”

“Yeah, but I wanted to.”

She laughed again, shier and shrinking into the sweater as she tried to find her place in such a domestic activity as sharing a meal with me in private. I thought of how it was a taste of my dreams.

Because as often as I did fantasize about her, undone, bare-skinned, and defenseless to my desires, I just as often envisioned her just like this. In fact, I found those fantasies more dangerous. They couldn’t be written off as mere lust. They were another, scarier thing.

“Well, lucky you I am an exhausted, broke grad student, so free food will always win me over,” she muttered, half-sarcastically but just sad enough to bother me.  

“Duly noted,” I said.

I hid away the promises I wanted to make. That if she were mine, she would want for nothing. That I would give her everything she needed to bloom. That I would prune away any neighboring flower that dared get in her way or block the sunlight. There would be no need to worry of predators or pollinators intruding, because she would belong to me and only me.

I would be her earth, her rain, and her sun. I would be surely and shamelessly selfish.

Her shoulders rose with a cheeky, excited little giggle once she had collected her food. I wanted nothing more than to let her enjoy it to her heart’s content… but there was a problem.

“Nuh-uh, no way,” I chuckled before she had a chance to return to the chair with her precarious paper plate, “Get in the other chair.”

Her face scrunched up, bouncing back and forth between the two seats in the room like she’d heard something so strange that it must have been a mistake.

“Wh— your chair?”

“I will not have you ruining another shirt today,” I explained. It caused the confusion to quickly shift to an embarrassed frustration within seconds. Just as she opened her mouth to protest my teasing, I continued with something I knew would tie her tongue until she could no longer argue.

“If you’re so worried about what they’ll say when you show up in my shirt, just think of how they’ll talk if they catch you wearing nothing.”

That stubborn little thing still tried. Her mouth floundered, strange sounds of protest starting but never finishing until she gave up. She sulked over to the seat with an odd amount of self-satisfaction. She settled into my space as comfortably as she always did. With an ease that was almost unsettling to my tired, tortured heart.

Swapping places with her for that little bit of time was a good idea. I hadn’t expected that it would bring me as much serenity as it did. My usually busy lips kept their focus on the food, opting to listen to her ramble about any and everything that came to mind.

It wasn’t until she was fifteen minutes into an explanation on her paper that I realized how little I’d tried to learn about her life outside of me. Whether it was self-preservation or narcissism, I’d never decided. But what I was certain of was that it had been a brutal form of self-sabotage.

Because as I sat there, watching her clumsily, excitedly swinging her fork and proving my point that it had been a good decision to give her the desk, I saw her for in a different light than before.

She was not just a beautiful, mysterious flower peeking through the concrete. She was the trembling giant, the clonal colony of thousands of quaking aspen trees. An extravagant network of roots that flowed far beyond the seed that started them.

This sprout might be new, but her soul was ancient and celestial, wise and immortal.

“Who knows?” she sighed, coming to a natural conclusion of a story I had almost missed while lost in daydreams and metaphors, “Maybe one day I’ll be a professor, too.”

“You’d be good at it.”

For once, it felt like she accepted the compliment without a fight. I considered it progress all the way up until she shot back a thinly veiled taunt.

“Thanks. Means a lot from someone who has 4 stars on rate my professor!”

“Don’t forget the chili pepper,” I jokingly returned.

“Not sure I’d get one of those.”

I knew that my disagreement wouldn’t amount to much in the grand scheme of things, so I opted for a slightly-self-centered flattery instead.

“Just show up in that outfit,” I said with a nod that barely hid my actual intention of focusing my eyes on the rest of her, “you’ll be golden.”

“You gonna let me borrow it in ten years?” she hummed.

It was a dangerous proposition, an implication that made the pitter-pattering in my chest unbearable. Rather than chasing her down the rabbit hole of fantasies, I just chuckled before I answered, “You know how to find me.”

Then it happened again. Her face slowly changed, growing from a cautious optimism to a yearning. A subtle hint of words left unsaid. And although she wet her lips and set down her fork, the words never came out. They stayed stalled in her throat, and there was no discernible way for me to drag them out of her without hurting the both of us.

When a loud knock resounded through the room, the thought ended altogether.

“Come in,” I grimly announced, recognizing the intrusive sound as the death rattle for whatever might have been said.

As the door opened, I realized the same time (y/n) did that we had forgotten that the rest of the outside world wasn’t familiar with our dynamic. They didn’t have the backstory of how she’d perched herself on my chair with her shoes off and wearing my clothes.

Torn between scrambling to take more socially acceptable positions and the knowledge that our hurry would make us look even more suspicious, we both opted to remain frozen in place like deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming train.

When the door opened, however, I was somewhat relieved to see someone I found completely unthreatening. My closest colleague, a woman that should really terrify me all things considered, seemed mostly perplexed when she found a young girl in my seat.

She quickly turned to me, drawing out her words as she asked, “Oh. I’m sorry, am I... interrupting something?”

“No, what can I help you with, Candy?”

“I was hoping we could talk about my current paper proposal.”

She paused, and I took the moment to follow her glower to the flower still stationary behind my desk. (Y/n) stared back, seemingly frightened by the presence of the other Professor.  

“If you’re busy with... office hours…” Candy muttered before turning back to me, “we can always set up a meeting for a better time.”

Before I could address the possible tension or implication, the girl at my desk sprung to action, clearing off any sign of her presence as she spoke.

“You know, I actually need to get going.”

“Are you sure?”

She didn’t look at me when she answered, “Yeah, I’m sure your papers are more important.”

If I’d turned back to Candy, I might have seen the condescending scowl that was driving her away. If I’ve had any inclination or desire to look at Candy, I would have realized that (y/n) wasn’t trying to escape from her connection to me. She was just trying to get out of my way.

It didn’t make it any harder to watch her leave. I took solace in the fact that she held tighter to my cardigan, trusting me to keep her warm by proxy as she ventured back into the real world. The world where we couldn’t be in peace.

“Thanks for the advice, Professor,” she said before she left, “You were right. As usual.”

One last smile was shared, somber but sobering. A necessary break from the intimacy of the moment.

“See you in class.”

The office felt so much duller without her radiance, but my disappointment would have to wait. As much as I actually didn’t mind the world knowing how my heart hurt from her absence, I knew that it was best I didn’t let it impact her academic career.

“Sorry again for the intrusion,” my colleague said in a much happier voice.  

“It’s not a problem at all.”

She must have noticed the way it sounded like a lie, because her tone quickly shifted back to a slightly disgruntled confusion.

“I didn’t realize she was your student, too. What class is she in?”

It was juvenile, really, the way my heart fluttered so ridiculously at the mere mention of her existence. The excuse to discuss her again.

“Oh, did she not tell you?”

Candy just shook her head with a blatantly false smile.

“Unsurprisingly modest,” I laughed, making my way back over to my seat and running my fingers over the wooden armrests like it would be the same as touching her ghost, “She’s my TA.”

“Oh… I see.”

“She was the only one who would put up with me,” I offered with a chuckle. Self-deprecating humor was the only reliable personality trait I had. It was also, unfortunately, one that most women in my life despised and refused to let sit.

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

It sounded less sweet coming from her. I wrote it off as a product of the differences in their species. While the hummingbird of a girl who’d just flittered away was used to only drinking the sweetest, purest nectar, the bird of prey who’d entered relied on the work of others to gather the sweetness before they were devoured.

That wasn’t to say she was cruel; hawks are as much a miracle of nature as hummingbirds. I simply related to one more than the other. I understood one while the other remained a mystery. And I loved mysteries more than myself.

“So, you wanted to talk about your paper?”

“Oh! Yes,” she chirped, passing the packet over to me now that I’d found my way back to what she probably deemed my rightful place. “The conference is coming up so much faster than I anticipated, and I would love to hear your opinions on my first draft.”

I’d already started to read the first page when she spoke again, uncharacteristically bashful and anxious, “Since we’ll be presenting together, I figured...”

“Yeah, no problem at all,” I interrupted, not wanting her to dwell nor expand on the thought of us doing anything together any more than necessary, “I can send you mine.”

It felt curt, blunt, and off putting when I said it, but she didn’t take it as such.

“Wonderful. You have such a unique voice when you’re writing. It’s very refreshing.”

Immediately, a memory appeared at the forefront of my mind and led to a laugh that I couldn’t contain. Candy seemed pleased at the sound, and I felt the need to explain.

“Thanks. (Y/n) likened it to Ray Bradbury at one point, although in different and less flattering words.”

I could hear her clear as day, quoting my words with an overdramatized effect before laughing, ‘Pack it up, Bradbury, you’ve got more science stuff to explain.’

Of course, we both found her laughter-ridden explanation of the ‘meme’ far funnier than the original joke. She was probably the only person in the world who never seemed bothered by explaining everything to me ad nauseam.

“She is... certainly a choice as a TA,” Candy strained upon scrutinizing the smile that had returned to my face for the first time since (y/n)’s departure, “Will she be joining us at the conference?”

But then the guilt returned, wiping the smile from my face and replacing happy memories with deviant thoughts and fears.

“Oh... you know, I haven’t asked her.”

“That’s perfectly alright! I think we’ll do just fine without her.”

“Right...” I whispered, glancing back down at the stack of papers in my hand before setting it in the tray designated for (y/n). “I’ll have her look at your paper just in case.”

A lull in the conversation stretched past the point of comfort for both of us, and I glanced up at the woman I actually felt guilty for ignoring in place of fantasies that would probably never come to be. She hadn’t even done anything to warrant my disregard. She was an attractive woman — as beautiful as she was brilliant, really — she had worked very hard to garner my trust and academic collaboration. At one point, I had considered her one of the few potential candidates for something more than a purely academic partner.

But there was something about the way she looked at the honeyed girl that made my hair stand on end. A defensiveness and instinct that couldn’t be ignored.

“Is there anything else you need?”

“No, that was all,” she said as she broke from what I presumed to be her own daydream, “I hope your semester keeps going well.”

“Thanks, I hope yours does, too.”

I meant it, despite the aforementioned concern. I wished her well in the semester for both selfless and selfish reasons. I wished her well because she deserved it, certainly. But the other reason, the larger one, was that I hoped she would remain distracted. I hoped that she didn’t notice the way I would slip away from her affections to chase those from a more interesting challenge. One that remained mysterious, with hair covered in pollen and lips sweet with ambrosia.

“I’ll talk to you soon, Dr. Reid.”

I failed to respond to her again before the door shut because my hands were already busy with rekindling contact with another.

“I have a proposition for you, Bunny.”

“Sounds ominous. I’m in.”  

The fact that the response came before I could even shut off the display was so characteristic of her that I had to laugh.

“You haven’t even heard it yet,” I observed, to which she once again immediately responded, “Your point being?”

“I’m afraid this is an obligation that does require some expansion before agreement.”

Her response was slower, then, and I could almost see her with a slight panic and overwhelming curiosity that grew stronger by the second.

“Ominous and vaguely unsettling,” she said.  

I considered drawing it out further, letting her imagination truly run wild with the possibilities. But then I realized that if she thought hard enough about it, she might reach the same place that had immediately come to my mind.

“Would you like to attend the upcoming conference with me?” I relented, almost stopping there but then frantically tagging on the conditions I knew would be most likely to cause hesitation. “You’d have your own room, of course. The department and I will help with funds.”

But, as it turned out, I didn’t need to be worried.

“A cheap weekend away from school where I get to be a nerd with you?” she sent with another set of small, smiling faces I was only just starting to understand, “Of course I’m going to say yes, Professor!”

“Perfect. I’ll arrange it.”

“I can’t wait!”

Although I felt the same, I forced myself to end contact again. I put my phone out of reach to prevent myself from spoiling any more of my fantasies than I already had. I didn’t need her to second-guess the possibilities of a weekend away together now that she’d already agreed to it.

The thought alone sparked guilt anew. Through the entire interaction, I’d infused each word with a charge that shouldn’t have been. Each line was far more provocative than it needed to be.

It was just an academic conference. Most people found them terribly dull, not to mention physically exhausting. It would not be a time away like most couples dreamed of because we were not a couple in any sense of the word.

Yet… I couldn’t help but feel that perhaps there weren’t as many differences as one might think. Because while yes, most people would be bored, I didn’t think Bunny would be. Clandestine meetings made between conference meetings sounded exactly like the kind of dreams we would share.

I believed it so strongly that my mind had already drafted several narratives that would suit her. I pictured her and I sharing company in public, unafraid of public displays of affection — innocent, childish kinds, of course — because we were miles away from those who might care.

That drunken, lust-inducing, half-lidded gaze from the week before would return. Except this time, I would taste the wine on her tongue, my hands sliding not over fluffy fabric, but the same skin that I’d felt for the first time that morning.

Behind our door, I would teach her so many things. Things that she would have begged me for. Things that others would see written on her skin in the shape of my fingers and mouth. Things that she would carry with a straighter back and dripping down her legs.

I didn’t just want to destroy her. I wanted to break her so that I could build her back with gold-laced lacquer. She would be my kintsugi creation full of sugar and honey, just imperfect enough that the sticky residue of her sweetness would slip through the cracks to coat everything she touched.

And then she would touch me, and I might finally feel like I deserved anything at all.

——————————————————

| Part Five |

[helliontherapscallion]

Warmth (Adrenaline Junkie Part 6)

Part 1     Part 2     Part 3     Part 4     Part 5     Part 7     Part 8     Part 9     Part 10     Part 11     Part 12     Part 13     Part 14     Part 15     Part 16     Part 17

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Warnings: Self harm scars, mentions of panic attacks and hallucinations

Word count: 2,842

(A/N): This takes place about 6 months after the last chapter. Also, I was heavily inspired by Toothless’ prosthetic, I’m really excited to write more about it : )

You hummed to yourself as you walked down the cobblestone street of the village. The village was probably one of your favorite places to visit; it had quaint little shops and stalls decorating the main plaza that you adored, it was always interesting to see what’s being sold today. Though you always wore your cloak to cover your wings (well, wing and a now-feathered nub) whenever you visited to avoid the stares, you still regularly visited the main plaza for the shops. 

The first time you visited after the incident was about a month ago with Wilbur, you two were looking for something to cook for dinner. You were trying to get used to having your wings out again, so you were wearing the jacket with the slits in the back that you always used to wear. 

The feeling of people staring holes into you was a feeling you forgot about. You always got stares whenever you went into the village because of your wings, but now it felt like more and more people were staring at you as you passed them, probably because of your nub. Though some looked at you in pity, most looked at you with disgust.

You could hear children asking their mothers what happened to you. Their mothers would take one look at you and shield their children away from you staring at you with disgust. You even made one kid cry when he saw your wing; you didn’t blame him, you still couldn’t look at your nub without tearing up. An hour hasn’t even passed before you were asked by a police officer to leave because you were causing a disruption and being indecent in public.

Wilbur was pissed. “They’re fully clothed and they didn’t even talk to anybody, so how exactly were they being disruptive or indecent?”

The officer firmly held her ground, looking up to Wilbur’s tall form. “Sir, the people are complaining and it’s my job to make the public feel safe and comfortable. Look,” she sighed, “I really don’t want to have to ask them to leave, they’re not doing anything to directly threaten people. However, they are causing a disturbance with their,” she wrinkled her nose, “their thing, so I’m going to have to ask them to leave.”

“You have absolutely no right to tell them to leave. They-”

“Wilbur, it’s fine. I’ll leave,” turning back to the officer, you calmly stated “I’m sorry for causing a disturbance ma’am. It won’t happen again.”

She curtly nodded and stood watching you, probably making sure that you left the main plaza. Before you could turn to leave, Wilbur stopped you.

“(Y/n)-”

“No, Wilbur. It’s alright, I can wait outside the village for you.”

He sighed, looking through his leather satchel. “No, you won’t have to wait for me. We’ve got enough food for dinner anyways,” shooting one last heated glare at the police officer, he reached down to grab your hand. “Let’s go.”

He drug you quickly through the village with you having a little trouble keeping up with his long strides. Once you were out of the village, he slowed his pace and walked with his hands shoved in his pockets.

“(Y/n), I’m sor-”

“Don’t be Wil. It isn’t your fault. I honestly was expecting to get kicked out earlier.”

“Still, it’s not fair to you. You didn’t ask for this.” 

“I know Wil, I’ll just wear my cloak next time I visit.”

He didn’t say anything to you after that. The rest of the walk home was shrouded in an awkward silence. 

Another part of the village you loved was the library. It had tall shelves filled to the brim with all sorts of books and various cushioned furniture littered randomly amongst the maze of shelves. Whoever would walk into the library would immediately be hit by the strong scent of parchment and wood as soon as they would walk through the twin doors. You would usually browse books about redstone, but you had a different agenda today.

Today, you were looking for a book about leather working. You wanted to make a leather prosthetic wing so you could at least glide through the air. You weren’t sure if it would work though. From what you’ve read, nobody’s attempted to make a prosthetic wing. It made sense, being a hybrid was rare in and of itself, let alone a winged hybrid. 

You missed flying more than anything. You would give anything to be able to be in the air again. You felt jittery and restless without flight. Sure, Philza took you on some flights with him every now and then, but it wasn’t the same. You yearned for the independence and liberation it gave you to fly alone.

After you found a book and checked it out with the librarian, you hastily set out for home. You were walking with a giddy smile on your face and a bounce in your step. Several people gave you strange looks as you passed them, but you were in too good of a mood to care. You finally figured out a way you could possibly fly again. 

When you got home, you headed straight to your workshop to get to work on your prosthetic. Several blueprints were hung up around your desk, some for your TNT launcher (which you finished a few weeks ago) and others contained ideas for an automatic farm. Your pride and joy was hung up in the center of your bulletin board. It made you extremely happy just by looking at the prosthetic sketch.

Your redstone lamp illuminated the space in front of you as you focused on cutting a large strip of leather in front of you with great concentration. You needed to get the measurements exactly right, equal sized wings are integral for stability midair. The prosthetic was going to be about the same size as your left wing with thin iron rods giving the wing structure. You planned on making it identical to a bat’s wing with a few minor changes in shape to match your other wing. Once it actually was structurally sound and working, you would add proper joints so you could wear it around and decorate it. Until then, you’re making adjustments.

When you were done, you moved on to crafting and melding together the iron rods. Putting on your goggles and thick leather gloves, you used a bit of lava your family kept stored in another room in the basement to fuse the thin iron rods together. You carefully dipped one end of two rods into the bucket before pulling it out at a certain time to hold the molten ends together until they cooled. You repeated this process until you were melding the last piece on.

“HEY BITCH, DINNER’S READY. GET IT WHILE IT’S HOT!”

Yelping, you dropped the mold onto your desk. You picked it up in a panic without paying attention to where your arms went. Unknowingly, your sleeved arm was pressing up against the scorching iron of the bucket of lava.

“FUCK YOU YA FILTHY GREMLIN, A LITTLE WARNING WOULD’VE BEEN NICE!”

He started cackling. “FUCK YOU TOO! NOW GET UP HERE BEFORE I EAT YOUR DINNER.”

“YOU BETTER FUCKING NOT. I SWEAR TO- FUCK!”

You felt the nerves on the side of your forearm screaming as you yanked it away, leaving the crisp remains of a part of your sleeve stuck to the iron bucket. Two pairs of footsteps boomed down the steps and got louder as they rapidly approached you. 

Wilbur’s deep voice worriedly called out to you. “Shit, (y/n) are you alright? Let me see.”

Before you could protest, he gently grabbed your wrist and pulled the sleeve of your jacket down. Adjoining the light burn, small horizontal scars and some fresh cuts lined your forearms. Shit, they were never supposed to find out.

Wilbur’s hand froze, gripping your wrist with an iron grip. You hissed at the feeling of some of your cuts reopening, causing him to quickly retract his hand. He now had his hands hovering over your arm unsure of what to do with them.

“(Y/n), wha-” Tommy cut himself off once he saw the panicked look on his older brother’s face. Following his gaze, his wide eyes met with your cuts.

You sighed, prying the goggles off from your face and pulling the gloves off from your hands. You put on a calm exterior, contrary to what you felt on the inside. They were never supposed to know. “Listen, you guys weren’t supposed to find out about this. None of you were. Please don’t tell Dad or Technoblade, I don’t need more people knowing.”

Tommy spoke up with an incredulous look. “(Y/n), what do you mean? We can’t just not tell them.”

“I know. Please, do it for me? Everything’s finally going back to normal and this will just make everything worse again. I promise I’ll stop, I swear.”

The two brothers looked at each other silently contemplating what they should do. On one hand, you were their sibling and you were hurting yourself. They needed to tell their dad that you were cutting. You only had two lives left and you could kill yourself doing that. Philza and Techno could help. On the other hand, they wanted you to feel normal in your own home. You were right in the fact that everything was starting to feel like it did before the incident. Plus, they would gladly help you through it.

They looked back at you with apprehensive expressions, speaking at the same time. 

“(Y/n), we’re not gonna tell Dad or Techno.”

“We’re telling them.”

Tommy whipped his head up to look at his brother angrily. “Wilbur, we need to tell them.”

“Tommy, no-”

“Are you fucking stupid? Of course we have to-”

“Tommy. We don’t because I’ll be taking every sharp object away from them tonight. We’ll watch them and check their wrists to make sure that there’s no new cuts and they stay clean. We’ll help them.”

“But- they,” Tommy gave a frustrated sigh. “Fine. But we at least have to tell Techno about this. He can help us.”

Wilbur glanced at you with apologetic eyes. Before he could speak up, you interrupted him. “...Alright, as long as Dad doesn’t find out. He has enough to stress out about and he doesn’t need to worry about me again. Now, can we go upstairs for dinner? We’ve been down here for long enough already and Dad’s probably wondering why. Tell him that I’m gonna go clean up.”

Without giving them any room to argue, you speeded up the stairs and into your room. Closing the door and leaning your back on it, you let your calm facade drop into a panicked one. Shit, what if Tommy tells Dad? What were you supposed to do then? He’ll take away what little freedom you had left and you’ll be sinking into the depths of your depression again. 

Your thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock and Philza’s voice. You held your breath as you prepared yourself for him to tell you that he knows your secret. “Hey hun, Wilbur and Tommy told me that you burned yourself,” you let out a relieved sigh. “Do you need me to look at it?”

Panic once again flared in your bloodstream. “N-no Dad, it’s just a little burn. I’ll be down in just a second I’m changing.”

“You sure? I can get you a potion.”

“Yes, I’m fine.”

“...Alright,” he sounded skeptical. “Just hurry up, dinner’s getting cold.”

The sound of his retreating footsteps sounded like music to your ears. You closed your eyes and took a few deep breaths before you moved to put on a long sleeved shirt. 

Dinner was uncharacteristically quiet without Tommy, you, or Wilbur talking. Philza tried to carry the conversation with you four, but only Technoblade gave full responses. You, Tommy, and Wilbur only supplied a few words to a conversation when prompted. 

Technoblade was suspicious. Sure, you and Wilbur were quiet sometimes, but Tommy? Tommy’s always loud and rambunctious. Something’s wrong, but what? What could’ve happened when Tommy and Wilbur went to go get you for dinner? They weren’t gone for long. He did hear you screaming profanities at Tommy for scaring you and overheard Tommy telling Philza about how you burned yourself, but how is that something that would shut you three up? He was going to confront his siblings after he finished tonight’s dishes. 

Meanwhile, you, Tommy, and Wilbur were in your room. You were giving them your iron dagger.

“Is this all?”

“Yeah, Tommy. That’s all, search my room if you don’t believe me. I wouldn’t mind, I don’t have anything to hide from you anymore.”

They did just that. Looking under your bed, in your drawers, in your closet, and in the chest you kept for your supplies. You watched them propped up on your bed. While you were angry with yourself that you were so careless, you felt warm that they cared about you. They were great brothers.

After they were done turning your room upside down, Wilbur plopped down next to you and Tommy threw himself over your legs. You three laid there for a while just enjoying each other’s presence. It was nice to spend some time with your brothers, you didn’t get much free time to spend with them because you spent most of your time in your workshop.

The silence was broken by Tommy. “...So, how do you wanna go about telling Technoblade?”

“I’m… not exactly sure. Do we even have to tell him?”

Wilbur pursed his lips. “Even if you didn’t want to, I’m pretty sure he knows something’s up. He’s good at picking up on social cues.”

“Well if that’s the case, I might just wait until he comes to me. It’ll be easier.”

Your door swung open to reveal your piglin hybrid brother. He looked at you with a single eyebrow raised as his ear flicked. “What were you planning on telling me?”

Tommy and Wilbur looked at you expectantly. You shifted your body closer to the wall making room on your bed for him. He walked over and stiffly sat on the edge of your mattress. He gestured for you to talk to him. You slowly slid your sleeve down and showed him your arm. Besides his eyebrows slightly crinkling, he was as stoic as ever when he reached out to grab your wrist for a better look.

On the inside, the voices were almost as loud as when you died. They were nearly incoherent as several angry voices mixed together yelling at him for not noticing anything was wrong with you, the kid he vowed to protect when you first stole his crown and replaced it with a homemade paper one. Outside of the voices, he was furious at himself, he was supposed to protect you. He ran his fingers along the raised lines, gently tracing over every scar and scabbed over cut as if memorizing where every single one lays.

His monotone voice was gruff. “How long? Why?”

“About eight months now. I-I didn’t feel anything for a while after I respawned and I realized that pain helped me feel. It helped ground me when I hallucinated or had panic attacks.”

“...Do you feel anything now?”

“Yeah, I’m getting better Tech. I’m hallucinating less and I’m getting better at managing anxiety attacks. At this point, it's just a habit that I can’t drop.” 

“Do you want to drop it?”

You fell silent. You never really considered stopping before. Before, you would do it to give yourself something to focus on when you were overwhelmed, but now you would do it out of habit. It somehow felt wrong when you skipped a session and it usually threw your entire day off. You would feel drained for the entire day if you didn’t do it. It was one of the only consistent things in your life.

“(Y/n), c’mon you don’t want to keep doing this, right?” Tommy asked before Wilbur reached over and slapped him upside his head. 

“I think,” you breathed out, unsure of yourself, “I want to get better.”

Techno looked at his brothers. “Did you two take their blades?”

Tommy held up the iron dagger and wove it around haphazardly in the air. Techno reached over and pocketed the dagger before discarding his golden crown and placing it on your nightstand. He took off his weighted fluffy cloak and neatly draped it over a nearby chest. He maneuvered his body so that he was laying on your other side and wrapped a lazy arm over your chest. 

With Wilbur on your right side with your wing draped over him, Tommy laying on your stomach with Wilbur reaching down to hold him, and Techno pulling you close to his body, you were pleasantly warm. You were slowly drifting off, being lulled to sleep by Techno’s slow heartbeat. You blissfully fell asleep surrounded by your brothers’ love.

Inspo for the cuddle pile (credit goes to og artist, zillychu): https://zillychu.home.blog/tag/heart-squad-cuddle-pile/

Taglist (comment if you want to be added):

@acecarddraws  @goldenstarofthunderclan  @ravennightingaleandavatempus  @dirtydiavolo  @yeiras-world  @immadatmostthings  @hee-hee-haw  @jackalopedoodles  @m1lkmandan  @vanhakirja  @im-a-depressed-gay  @coolleviauchihadreamerlove  @questioning-sanity  @camisascam

@bongwaterflavoredgatorade  @kakamiissad  @jayistrash  @lifestylesleep  @speedymaximoff  @sun-shark-tooth  @appetiteofapeoplepleaser  @starchildnatalya  @kinismanditory  @dragons-lurk-here  @rinzyx05  @the-wandering-pan-ace  @sparkling-gayyyy  @angelic-scent  @shinipii  @dont-hug-me-im-a-fander  @izzydimensional  @used-avocado

[cherrysung]

lesson learned

pairing: nerd!jaemin x reader

genre: smut / slight fluff

warnings: language, unprotected sex (stay safe!), riding, thigh riding, grinding, finger sucking, dirty talk, slight degradation

prompts: none

summary: tinted cheeks and sheepish glances might’ve been a delight to observe every time his eyes scanned intellectual phrases on books, but as your words reached dangerous levels, you realized not all is what it seems.

requested by anon.

word count: 2.5k

note: anonnie... I think I got carried away with this a lil bit, oops. I hope you enjoy this though, thank you for requesting! jaemin with glasses is superior oof

cherrysung’s navigation

Na Jaemin. Pink cheeks and flushed neck and ears, thin-rimmed glasses that rested peacefully on the bridge of the most perfect nose you’d seen, and his sharp eyes that appeared narrow and hooded as they scanned over way too complicated words that showed up unnecessarily in fiction books.

He wasn’t the stereotypical nerd, in fact, he quite honestly debunked endless labels and beliefs that people like him had endured for years. Unlike portrayed in movies or anywhere else, Na Jaemin was impressingly handsome if you said so yourself. Masculine yet soft features adorned the smooth of his skin like a freshly painted artwork, facial structure built with a jawline that you’d mistake to be carved out by the gods themselves if you didn’t know any better, and an overall physique that even the most athletic guys at college envied. How come the school’s certified nerd was also the biggest hottie? Pair that up with a well-mannered and gentle personality—you get the sweetest boy at heart.

Conservative and reserved most of the time, with his second home being the local library, Jaemin was almost always indulged in some sort of imaginary world. Although popular for his looks, nobody dared approach him, as everybody knew how much he overflowed with shyness, and even oftentimes unintentionally blocked out the social souls that made an effort to utter a word to him.

It didn’t come as a surprise that his grades were also astronomically A+ class and more. There was no need for him to search with concern over universities and a promising education, because unlike you, they actually chased after him. On the other hand, though you did an okay job at even the most challenging subjects, it wasn’t enough to you or to your demanding and irritable parents. Given that, your teacher thought that if you really wanted to improve, getting Jaemin assigned as a tutor seemed like a perfect idea.

Indeed; it was.

Somehow the smartest and quietest senior also turned out to be picky. His looks weren’t the only thing he was popular for—his constant declines on those who wished desperately for his help was too. To say you were shocked that he agreed to lend you a hand, was an understatement.

You officially met Jaemin on a Monday afternoon when the bell rang loudly throughout the empty halls and students escaped tiredly the dull classrooms as if they were prisons. Your calculus teacher called you and the boy over to her wooden, polished desk, where piles of papers that were filled with red marks stacked up. Jaemin carried himself gracefully at all times, dressed in black sweatpants and a white t-shirt with black shoes, you genuinely wondered how such a simple outfit suddenly looked expensive. Not only did his clothes seem to be put together, so did his life in general. He would never miss a day of college even if destiny wanted him to, and his schedule was so precise you felt like an absolute shame next to him.

“Mr. Na Jaemin,” the teacher cleared her throat, hands twirling a red-inked pen between her fingers as she smiled at the boy standing next to you. “At this point, I don’t know why I bother with you anymore, you always seem to decline. But, I thought I should ask you if you were up to helping your fellow classmate over here. She surely has potential, but is clearly struggling.”

You shifted nervously on your feet, cheeks becoming a faint tint of rosy red as your teacher slid over your calculus test towards Jaemin. It read D+. Nearly the entirety of the front page was marked in red, multiple comments explaining why your answers were wrong and circles pointing out your hideous mistakes all for a genius to judge.

His eyes skimmed over your answers, a smile threatening to creep up on his pink lips at just how ridiculous and senseless your processes could get. “I see. Yeah, she seems to have an idea of the topics but probably gets confused easily.”

Ouch.

“Well, would you do me the favor of maybe tutoring her every week for, say, a month?”

He glanced down at you for a split second, gaze returning back to the test in his hands as fast as he had looked away from it. His words sounded direct, leaving his lips with security and firm knowledge; yet, you were sure you could feel his timidity from classrooms away.

“Sure.”

Two weeks later, Jaemin had been tutoring you patiently, sharing his knowledge and tips as best as he could. You discovered, conversational skills and socializing definitely weren’t Jaemin’s specialty, his words spilling from his lips in stumbles and stutters that sounded adorable nonetheless. Contrary to the way he spoke whenever you casually asked him something about him—whether it be his personality, where he’s from, the things he enjoys—to the way his sentences flowed flawlessly whenever he was explaining how a math problem worked, was intriguing to you.

There was something about him that felt new, and mysterious. He was introverted, quite protective of his surroundings and himself; though, somehow the way his middle finger elegantly pushed his spectacles up a tiny bit, and the way his hand occasionally brushed with yours whenever he turned to a new page on your alarmingly huge calculus textbook was doing things to you.

“So, Jaemin,” you interrupted him, his head rising up in question at your sudden intrusion, hand holding a pencil he had been using to point out esencial steps for Definite Integrals. The two of you were currently sitting at your study desk in your bedroom, home alone on a slightly rainy Friday evening, with papers lying around the table and the floor that had infinite math practice tests he had obligated you to do. “How are you so good at calculus. Well, everything, honestly?”

The tip of his ears flushed a deep shade of pink at your indirect compliment, visibly swallowing as his Adam’s apple swiftly moved up and then down. “Uh, I don’t really know. I guess I’ve always practiced a lot as a kid? Maths is my favorite subject so it’s not hard for me…”

His attention was never on you, instead, his eyes shifted awkwardly as long as they successfully avoided your own. You were enjoying his confusion more than you’d like to admit, collecting your thoughts and speaking up once again before he returned to explaining boring equations or graphs. “Why’d you agree to help me? You never help.”

He wordlessly shrugged, hand scratching the back of his head with what appeared nervousness as his eyes solely rested on the paper before him and the paper alone. You thought his face became progressively warmer, a light smile etching across your face. “Are you sure you don’t know?” You glanced at him, turning your chair around to face his side profile directly. “I think there must be a reason.”

“There’s none.” He muttered through gritted teeth, the apple of his cheeks becoming impossibly redder by the minute. “Let’s move on to the next topic—”

“Oh, but are you sure there really is no reason at all? ‘Cause you seem to be hardcore blushing right now.” Your finger moved under his chin, gently guiding his eyes towards yours. “Am I the reason for your obvious struggle, Na Jaemin? Do you, maybe, have the hots for me?”

“Y/N, just—you need to, uh, continue practicing.”

“I don’t want to practice anymore.” A giggle left your lips, face nearing the boy’s hot ears. “I’ll let you in on a little secret. I think you are so handsome, and I can tell you like me too. Or don’t you?”

“Y/N—”

“Don’t you, Jaemin?”

A quiet curse rumbled throughout his chest and out his lips, hands quickly snapping up to grasp your own. “You really don’t want to bother me right now. Stop.”

“I do want to bother you. I know you’re not some innocent, saint boy, Jaemin. Stop putting up that pure act with me, it’s not working.”

“Alright,” Jaemin mumbled, eyes sharply boring into yours, “then you asked for it.” He roughly pulled you towards him, your wheeled chair sliding back at the impact as your legs almost instantly straddled him. With no more words said, his hands softly kneaded your ass, pressing his hardening member directly on your heat as he began rapidly guiding you up and down his covered length.

Whimpers stumbled off your lips at his movements, hands flying up to hold onto his shoulders for balance. Quite frankly, you never thought Jaemin would do this.

“Cat got your tongue suddenly, princess?” Your breath hitched at the pet name, and Jaemin could only smirk at your reaction. “You were all talk and no game? Where did that confidence go? You are such a needy, little bitch. Be a good girl and ride my thigh like the desperate slut you are—wanting to fuck me instead of practicing your math equations.”

He parted his legs, and you were quick to take off your shorts, sitting on the textured fabric of his denim jeans as your hips continued their previous ministrations with Jaemin’s harsh grasp. Moans were leaving you in an uncontrollable mess, feeling so little and helpless under a boy’s gaze whom everybody believed is a harmless child. There was a look plastered on his features that you wanted engraved in your mind forever; pearly whites sinking tenderly into a swollen, red bottom lip, glasses hanging lowly on his nose, and a hooded stare due to the growing wetness on your sheer panties that seeped out onto his jeans.

Fuck, did those glasses make him look so sinful.

“Jaemin,” you stuttered, “I need to cum.”

“Already? We just started the fun, princess.” His actions contradicted his words, hands moving your hips faster on his thigh as he squeezed the muscles, igniting louder sounds of pleasure from you. “Are you close?”

You nodded frantically, no longer giving care to the huge wet patch you had created on his pants, allowing his hands to move you as fast as he wished, pussy clenching around nothing every time your clit ran over the coarse fabric.

“Go ahead, princess, come all over my thigh, you fucking dirty girl. Make a mess.”

His whispers were enough to bring you to your climax, legs shaking unstoppably as your hips stilled abruptly. Jaemin rubbed your back softly, bringing your chin up to lock lips with you. Ardent, and full of lust, the feeling of his tongue running over your bottom lip brought another wave of heat that pooled between your legs, and he could surely feel it. Pulling away, with a string of saliva attaching the two of you, Jaemin unbuckled the leather belt before unbuttoning his jeans, only pushing them down enough to release his dick. It sprung proudly out of his briefs, gently hitting his belly and begging to be played with.

Jaemin smirked at your wide eyes, your gaze running up and down the veiny cock, with a final touch of an angry and red tip at the top that was leaking with pre-cum.

“Can I suck you?”

“Not today, babygirl, do that some other time,” he shook his head, fingers moving your panties to the side and placing you on top of his hard length, “right now all I want is to feel your dripping, pretty pussy. Ride me.”

You silently obliged like the good girl he thought you were, wet cunt sinking on his dick as your walls instantly welcomed him with endless warmth.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he lowly cursed, “such a fucking good girl. Why don’t we teach you some basic math while you ride my dick? Come on.” His index and middle fingers tapped your bottom lip, your mouth wrapping around them. “You’re going to answer while you suck on my fingers as if it were my cock.”

On cue to his words, your tongue swirled around his digits experimentally while he ruthlessly thrusted up into your tight pussy with a never ending pace.

“What’s seven plus five, princess?”

You whined on his digits, finding the task harder than you expected as his dick was everything you could think about. Jaemin filled you up so well, fingers occasionally driving into the back of your throat as you choked around them. Tears had begun pooling in your eyes, threatening to fall at any moment as you gagged around his digits once again. “Twelve!”

“Good job,” he delivered a particularly hard thrust, hitting on your sweet spot successfully and earning himself nearly a scream from you. “What about eighteen plus nine? What’s the answer?”

At this point, he was doing all the work, dick sliding in and out of your walls so fast and deliciously. The only sound you could hear around your bedroom was both your skins’ slapping, and sometimes the choked up cries that left your lips whenever his fingers reached too far back in your throat. Your thoughts only revolved around how good Jaemin was fucking you, and how good the glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose looked as he bit his lip. “Twenty-seven!” You struggled to answer, but managed to regardless of his merciless thrusts.

“Four minus nineteen? You got three seconds to answer, sweets.” Jaemin smirked, free hand reaching down to circle rapidly around your clit, his hips speeding up even more. “One.”

“Jaemin, I’m so close!”

He pulled his fingers out of your mouth, drool running down your chin as he wiped his digits on his shirt. “Answer me, or you don’t come.”

Your thoughts were absolutely jumbled, puzzled and confused, searching hazily for a simple answer you couldn’t remember.

“Two.” The movements of his fingers on your swollen bud were beginning to slow down.

“Jaemin, wait!”

“Three—”

“Negative! Negative fifteen, the answer is negative fifteen.”

He cooed at you, speeding up his actions once more as you cried out, head resting on his shoulder tiredly while you slightly bit into the flesh, eliciting hisses that flew from his lips.

“Fuck, I’m so close. Princess, can I fill you up with my cum?”

“Please,” tears ran down your face, your cries muffled as you nuzzled your face into his neck, “please do. Come inside of me, Jaemin, fill me up so well.”

Your desperate pleads and the frantic clenching of your pussy were enough to bring him to the edge, your release following not much long after as his warm cum completely coated your walls white, some seeping out from your cunt and onto his member. Jaemin eventually slowed down his thrusts to a stop, chest heaving up and down as pants left the two of you.

“For your information, I do have the hots for you, too.” He exhaled out a laugh, pulling your body closer to his and gently pecking the top of your head.

“I can’t believe everybody calls you a nerd,” you chuckled, “you literally fucked me into oblivion.”

“Well, you were riling me up. I hope you learned your lesson, little miss.”

“Yeah, I did.” You admitted with a giggle.

“Well, you better keep that pretty mouth closed, we don’t want people knowing the school’s nerd wrecked you so bad, right? Besides, I don’t think I want this to just be a one time thing.” Your head rose at his confession, eyes looking into his own for an answer. “How about a date tomorrow?”

You smiled, sweetly pecking his cheek. “I’d love that. How about I suck your cock after that?”

Jaemin smirked, “your house or mine?”

[xoruffitup]

Annette: The AD Devotee Review

So I saw Annette on its premiere night in Cannes and I’m still trying to process and make sense of those 2.5 hours of utter insanity. I have no idea where to begin and this is likely going to become an unholy length by the time I’m finished, so I apologize in advance. But BOY I’ve got a lot to parse through!!

Let’s start here: Adam’s made plenty of weird movies. The Dead Don’t Die? The Man Who Killed Don Quixote? There are definitely Terry Gilliam-esque elements of the unapologetically absurd and fantastical in Annette, but NOTHING comes close to this film. To put it bluntly, nothing I write in this post can prepare you for the eccentric phantasmagoria you’re about to sit through.

While the melodies conveying the story – at times lovely and haunting, at times whimsical, occasionally blunt and simple – add a unique sense of the surreal, the fact that it’s all presented in song somehow supplies the medium for this bizarre concoction of disparate elements and outlandish storytelling to all coalesce into a single genre-defying, disbelief-suspending whole. That’s certainly not to say there weren’t a few times when I quietly chortled to myself and mouthed “what the fuck” from behind my mask when things took an exceeding turn to the outrageous. This movie needs to be permitted a bit of leeway in terms of quality judgments, and traditional indicators certainly won’t apply. I would say part of its appeal (and ultimately its success) stems from its lack of interest in appealing to traditional arbiters of film structure and viewing experience. The movie lingers in studies of discomfiture (I’ll return to this theme); it presents all its absurdities with brazen pride rather than temperance; and its end is abrupt and utterly jarring. Yet somehow, at the end of it, I realized I’d been white-knuckling that rollercoaster ride the whole way through and loved every last twist and turn.

A note on the structure of this post before I dive in: I’ve written out a synopsis of the whole film (for those spoiler-hungry people) and stashed it down at the bottom of this post, so no one trying to avoid spoilers has to scroll through. If you want to read, go ahead and skip down to that before reading the discussion/analysis. If I have to reference a specific plot point, I’ll label it “Spoiler #___” and those who don’t mind being spoiled can check the correlating numbers in my synopsis to see which part I’m referencing. Otherwise, my discussion will be spoiler-free! I do detail certain individual scenes, but hid anything that would give away key developments and/or the ending.

To start, I’ll cut to what I’m sure many of you are here for: THE MUSICAL SEX SCENES. You want detailed descriptions? Well let’s fucking go because these scenes have been living in my head rent-free!!

The first (yes, there are two. Idk whether to thank Mr. Carax or suggest he get his sanity checked??) happens towards the end of “We Love Each Other So Much.” Henry carries Ann to the bed with her feet dangling several inches off the floor while she has her arms wrapped around his shoulders. (I maybe whimpered a tiny bit.) As they continue to sing, you first see Ann spread on her back on the bed, panting a little BUT STILL SINGING while Henry’s head is down between her thighs. The camera angle is from above Ann’s head, so you can clearly see down her body and exactly what’s going on. He lifts his head to croon a line, then puts his mouth right back to work. 

And THEN they fuck – still fucking singing! They’re on their sides with Henry behind her, and yes there is visible thrusting. Yes, the thrusting definitely picks up speed and force as the song reaches its crescendo. Yes, it was indeed EXTREMELY sensual once you got over the initial shock of what you’re watching. Ann kept her breasts covered with her own hands while Henry went down on her, but now his hands are covering them and kneading while they’re fucking and just….. It’s a hard, blazing hot R rating. I also remember his giant hand coming up to turn her head so he can kiss her and ladkjfaskfjlskfj. Bring your smelling salts. I don’t recommend sitting between two older ladies while you’re watching – KINDA RUINED THE BLATANT, SMOKING HOT ADAM PORN FOR ME. Good god, choose your viewing buddy wisely!

The second scene comes sort of out of nowhere – I can’t actually recall which song it was during, but it pops up while Ann is pregnant. Henry is again eating her out and there’s not as much overt singing this time, but he has his giant hands splayed over her pregnant belly while he’s going to town and whew, WHEW TURN ON THE AIR CONDITIONING PLEASE. DID THE THEATER INCREASE IN TEMPERATURE BY 10 DEGREES, YOU’RE DAMN RIGHT IT DID.

Whew. I think you’ll be better primed to ~enjoy~ those scenes when you know they’re coming, otherwise it’s just so shocking that by the time you’ve processed “Look at Adam eating pussy with reckless abandon” it’s halfway over already. God speed, my fellow rats, it’s truly something to witness!!

Okay. Right. Ahem. Moving right on along….

I’ll kick off this discussion with the formal structure of the film. It’s honestly impossible to classify. I have the questionable fortune of having been taken to many a strange avant-garde operas and art exhibitions by my parents when I was younger, and the strongest parallel I found to this movie was melodramatic opera stagings full of flamboyant flourishes, austere set pieces, and prolonged numbers where the characters wallow at length in their respective miseries. This movie has all the elevated drama, spectacle, and self-aggrandizement belonging to any self-professed rock opera. Think psychedelic rock opera films a la The Who’s Tommy, Hair, Phantom of the Paradise, and hell, even Rocky Horror. Yes, this film really is THAT weird.

But Annette is also in large part a vibrant, absurdist performance piece. The film is intriguingly book-ended by two scenes where the lines blur between actor and character; and your own role blurs between passive viewer and interactive audience. The first scene has the cast walking through the streets of LA (I think?), singing “So May We Start?” directly to the camera in a self-aware prologue, smashing the fourth wall from the beginning and setting up the audience to play a direct role in the viewing experience. Though the cast then disburse and take up their respective roles, the sense of being directly performed to is reinforced throughout the film. This continues most concretely through Henry’s multiple stand-up comedy performances.

Though he performs to an audience in the film rather than directly to live viewers, these scenes are so lengthy, vulgar, and excessive that his solo performance act becomes an integral part of defining his character and conveying his arc as the film progresses. These scenes start to make the film itself feel like a one-man show. The whole shtick of Henry McHenry’s “Ape of God” show is its perverse irreverence and swaggering machismo. Over the span of what must be a five minute plus scene, Henry hacks up phlegm, pretends to choke himself with his microphone cord, prances across the stage with his bathrobe flapping about, simulates being shot, sprinkles many a misanthropic, charmless monologues in between, and ends by throwing off his robe and mooning the audience before he leaves the stage. (Yes, you see Adam’s ass within the film’s first twenty minutes, and we’re just warming up from there.) His one-man performances demonstrate his egocentrism, penchant for lowbrow and often offensive humor, and the fact that this character has thus far profited from indulging in and acting out his base vulgarities.

While never demonstrating any abundance of good taste, his shows teeter firmly towards the grotesque and unsanctionable as his marriage and mental health deteriorate. This is what I’m referring to when I described the film as a study in discomfiture. As he deteriorates, the later iterations of his stand-up show become utterly unsettling and at times revolting. The film could show mercy and stop at one to two minutes of his more deranged antics, but instead subjects you to a protracted display of just how insane this man might possibly be. In Adam’s hands, these excessive, indulgent performance scenes take on disturbing but intriguing ambiguity, as you again wonder where the performance ends and the real man begins. When Henry confesses to a crime during his show and launces into an elaborate, passionate reenactment on stage, you shift uncomfortably in your seat wondering how much of it might just be true. Wondering just how much of an animal this man truly is.

Watching this film as an Adam fan, these scenes are unparalleled displays of his range and prowess. He’s in turns amusing and revolting; intolerable and pathetic; but always, always riveting. I couldn’t help thinking to myself that for the casual, non Adam-obsessed viewer, the effect of these scenes might stop at crass and unappealing. But in terms of the sheer range and power of acting on display? These scenes are a damn marvel. Through these scenes alone, his performance largely imbues the film with its wild, primal, and vaguely menacing atmosphere.

His stand-up scenes were, to me, some of the most intense of the film – sometimes downright difficult to endure. But they’re only a microcosm of the R A N G E he exhibits throughout the film’s entirety. Let’s talk about how he’s animalistic, menacing, and genuinely unsettling to watch (Leos Carax described him as “feline” at some point, and I 100% see it); and then with a mere subtle twitch of his expression, sheen of his eyes, or slump of his shoulders, he’s suddenly a lost, broken thing.  

Henry McHenry is truly to be reviled. Twitter might as well spare their breath and announce he’s already cancelled. He towers above the rest of the cast with intimidating, predatory physicality; he is prone to indulgence in his vices; and he constantly seems at risk of releasing some wild, uncontrollable madness lingering just beneath his surface. But as we all well know, Adam has an unerring talent for lending pathos to even the most objectively condemnable characters.

In a repeated refrain during his first comedy show, the audience keeps asking him, “Why did you become a comedian?” He dodges the question or gives sarcastic answers, until finally circling back to the true answer later in the film. It was something to the effect of: “To disarm people. It’s the only way I can tell the truth without it killing me.” Even for all their sick spectacle, there are also moments in his stand-up shows of disarming vulnerability and (seeming) honesty. In a similar moment of personal exposition, he confesses his temptation and “sympathy for the abyss.” (This phrase is hands down my favorite of the film.) He repeatedly refers to his struggle against “the abyss” and, at the same time, his perceived helplessness against it. “There’s so little I can do, there’s so little I can do,” he sings repeatedly throughout the film - usually just after doing something horrific.

Had he been played by anyone else, the first full look of him warming up before his show - hopping in place and punching the air like some wannabe boxer, interspersing puffs of his cigarette with chowing down on a banana – would have been enough for me to swear him off. His archetype is something of a cliché at this point – a brusque, boorish man who can’t stomach or preserve the love of others due to his own self-loathing. There were multiple points when it was only Adam’s face beneath the character that kept my heart cracked open to him. But sure enough, he wedged his fingers into that tiny crack and pried it wide open. The film’s final few scenes show him at his chin-wobbling best as he crumbles apart in small, mournful subtleties.

(General, semi-spoiler ahead as to the tone of the film’s ending – skip this paragraph if you’d rather avoid.) For a film that professes not to take itself very seriously (how else am I supposed to interpret the freaky puppet baby?), it delivers a harsh, unforgiving ending to its main character. And sure enough, despite how much I might have wanted to distance myself and believe it was only what he deserved, I found myself right there with him, sharing his pain. It is solely testament to Adam’s tireless dedication to breathing both gritty realism and stubborn beauty into his characters that Henry sank a hook into some piece of my sympathy.

Not only does Adam have to be the only actor capable of imbuing Henry with humanity despite his manifold wrongs, he also has to be the only actor capable of the wide-ranging transformations demanded of the role. He starts the movie with long hair and his full refrigerator brick house physique. His physicality and size are actively leveraged to engender a sense of disquiet and unpredictability through his presence. He appears in turns tormented and tormentor. There were moments when I found myself thinking of Conan the Barbarian, simply because his physical presence radiates such wild, primal energy (especially next to tiny, dainty Marion and especially with that long hair). Cannot emphasize enough: The raw sex appeal is off the goddamn charts and had me – a veteran fangirl of 3+ years - shook to my damn core.

The film’s progression then ages him – his hair cut shorter and his face and physique gradually becoming more gaunt. By the film’s end, he has facial prosthetics to make him seem even more stark and borderline sickly – a mirror of his growing internal torment. From a muscular, swaggering powerhouse, he pales and shrinks to a shell of a man, unraveling as his face becomes nearly deformed by time and guilt. He is in turns beautiful and grotesque; sensual and repulsive. I know of no other actor whose face (and its accompanying capacity for expressiveness) could lend itself to such stunning versatility.

Quick note here that he was given a reddish-brown birthmark on the right side of his face for this film?? It becomes more prominent once his hair is shorter in the film’s second half. I’m guessing it was Leos’ idea to make his face even more distinctive and riveting? If so, joke’s on you, Mr. Carax, because we’re always riveted. ☺

I mentioned way up at the beginning that the film is bookended by two scenes where the lines blur between actor and character, and between reality and performance. This comes full circle at the film’s end, with Henry’s final spoken words (this doesn’t give any plot away but skip to the next paragraph if you would rather avoid!) being “Stop watching me.” That’s it. The show is over. He has told his last joke, played out his final act, and now he’s done living his life as a source of cheap, unprincipled laughs and thrills for spectators. The curtain closes with a resounding silence.

Now, I definitely won’t have a section where I talk (of course) about the Ben Solo parallels. He’s haunted by an “abyss” aka darkness inside of him? Bad things happened when he finally gave in and stared into that darkness he knew lived within him? As a result of those tragedies, (SPOILER – Skip to next paragraph to avoid) he then finds himself alone and with no one to love or be loved by? NO I’M DEFINITELY NOT GOING TO TALK ABOUT IT AT ALL, I’M JUST FINE HERE UNDER MY MOUNTAINS OF TISSUES.

Let’s talk about the music! The film definitely clocks in closer to a rock opera than musical, because almost the entire thing is conveyed through ongoing song, rather than self-contained musical numbers appearing here and there. This actually helps the film’s continuity and pacing, by keeping the characters perpetually in this suspended state of absurdity, always propelled along by some beat or melody. Whenever the film seems on the precipice of tipping all the way into the bleak and dark, the next whimsical tune kicks in to reel us all blessedly back. For example, after (SPOILER #1) happens, there’s a hard cut to the bright police station where several officers gather around Henry, bopping about and chattering on the beat “Questions! We have a few questions!”

Adam integrates his singing into his performance in such a way that it seems organic. I realized after the film that I never consciously considered the quality of his singing along the way. For all that I talked about the film maintaining the atmosphere of a fourth wall-defying performance piece, Adam’s singing is so fully immersed in the embodiment of his character that you almost forget he’s singing. Rather, this is simply how Henry McHenry exists. His stand-up scenes are the only ones in the film that do frequently transition back and forth between speaking and singing, but it’s seamlessly par for the course in Henry’s bizarre, dour show. He breaks into his standard “Now laugh!” number with uninterrupted sarcasm and contempt. There were certainly a few soft, poignant moments when his voice warbled in a tender vibrato you couldn’t help noticing – but otherwise, the singing was simply an extension of that full-body persona he manages to convey with such apparent ease and naturalism.

On the music itself: I’ll admit that the brief clip of “We Love Each Other So Much” we got a few weeks ago made me a tad nervous. It seemed so cheesy and ridiculous? But okay, you really can’t take anything from this movie out of context. Otherwise it is, indeed, utterly ridiculous. Not that none of it is ever ridiculous in context either, but I’m giving you assurances right now that it WORKS. Once you’re in the flow of constant singing and weirdness abound, the songs sweep you right along. Some of the songs lack a distinctive hook or melody and are moreso rhythmic vehicles for storytelling, but it’s now a day later and I still have three of the songs circulating pleasantly in my head. “We Love Each Other So Much” was actually the stand out for me and is now my favorite of the soundtrack. It’s reprised a few times later in the film, growing increasingly melancholy each time it is echoed, and it hits your heart a bit harder each time. The final song sung during (SPOILER #2), though without a distinctive melody to lodge in my head, undoubtedly left me far more moved than a spoken version of this scene would have. Adam’s singing is so painfully desperate and earnest here, and he takes the medium fully under his command.

Finally, it does have to be said that parts of this film veer fully towards the ridiculous and laughable. The initial baby version of the Annette puppet-doll was nothing short of horrifying to me. Annette gets more center-stage screen time in the film’s second half, which gives itself over to a few special effects sequences which look to be flying out at you straight from 2000 Windows Movie Maker. The scariest part is that it all seems intentional. The quality special effects appear when necessary (along with some unusual and captivating time lapse shots), which means the film’s most outrageous moments are fully in line with its guiding spirit. Its extravagant self-indulgence nearly borders on camp.

...And with that, I’ve covered the majority of the frantic notes I took for further reflection immediately after viewing. It’s now been a few days, and I’m looking forward to rewatching this movie when I can hopefully take it in a bit more fully. This time, I won’t just be struggling to keep up with the madness on screen. My concluding thoughts at this point: Is it my favorite Adam movie? Certainly not. Is it the most unforgettable? Aside from my holy text, The Last Jedi, likely yes. It really is the sort of thing you have to see twice to even believe it. And all in all, I say again that Adam truly carried this movie, and he fully inhabits even its highest, most ludicrous aspirations. He’s downright abhorrent in this film, and that’s exactly what makes him such a fucking legend.

I plan to make a separate post in the coming days about my experience at Cannes and the Annette red carpet, since a few people have asked! I can’t even express how damn good it feels to be globetrotting for Adam-related experiences again. <3

Thanks so much for reading! Feel free to ask me any further questions at all here or on Twitter! :)

*SYNOPSIS INCLUDED BELOW. DO NOT READ FURTHER IF AVOIDING SPOILERS!*

Synopsis: Comedian Henry McHenry and opera singer Ann Defrasnoux are both at the pinnacle of their respective success when they fall in love and marry. The marriage is happy and passionate for a time, leading to the birth of their (puppet) daughter, Annette. But tabloids and much of the world believe the crude, brutish Henry is a poor match for refined, idolized Ann. Ann and Henry themselves both begin to feel that something is amiss – Henry gradually losing his touch for his comedy craft, claiming that being in love is making him ill. He repeatedly and sardonically references how Ann’s opera career involves her “singing and dying” every night, to the point that he sees visions of her “dead” body on the stage. Meanwhile, Ann has a nightmare of multiple women accusing Henry of abusive and violent behavior towards them, and she begins growing wary in his presence. (He never acts abusively towards her, unless you count that scene when he tickles her feet and licks her toes while she’s telling him to stop??? Yeah I know, WILD.)

The growing sense of unease, that they’re both teetering on the brink of disaster, culminates in the most deranged of Henry’s stand-up comedy performances, when he gives a vivid reenactment of killing his wife by “tickling her to death.” The performance is so maudlin and unsettling that you wonder whether he’s not making it up at all, and the audience strongly rebukes him. (This is the “What is your problem?!” scene with tiddies out. The full version includes Adam storming across the stage, furiously singing/yelling, “What the FUCK is your problem?!”) But when Henry arrives home that night, drunk and raucous, Ann and Annette are both unharmed.

The couple take a trip on their boat, bringing Annette with them. The boat gets caught in a storm, and Henry drunkenly insists that he and Ann waltz in the storm. She protests that it’s too dangerous and begs him to see sense. (SPOILER #1) The boat lurches when Henry spins her, and Ann falls overboard to her death. Henry rescues Annette from the sinking boat and rows them both to shore. He promptly falls unconscious, and a ghost of Ann appears, proclaiming her intention to haunt Henry through Annette. Annette (still a toddler at this point and yes, still a wooden puppet) then develops a miraculous gift for singing, and Henry decides to take her on tour with performances around the world. He enlists the help of his “conductor friend,” who had been Ann’s accompanist and secretly had an affair with her before she met Henry.

Henry slides further into drunken debauchery as the tour progresses, while the Conductor looks after Annette and the two grow close. Once the tour concludes, the Conductor suggests to Henry that Annette might be his own daughter – revealing his prior affair with Ann. Terrified by the idea of anyone finding out and the possibility of losing his daughter, Henry drowns the Conductor in the pool behind his and Ann’s house. Annette sees the whole thing happen from her bedroom window.

Henry plans one last show for Annette, to be held in a massive stadium at the equivalent of the Super Bowl. But when Annette takes the stage, she refuses to sing. Instead, she speaks and accuses Henry of murder. (“Daddy kills people,” are the actual words – not that that was creepy to hear as this puppet’s first spoken words or anything.)

Henry stands trial, during which he sees an apparition of Ann from when they first met. They sing their regret that they can’t return to the happiness they once shared, until the apparition is replaced by Ann’s vengeful spirit, who promises to haunt Henry in prison. After his sentencing (it’s not clear what the sentence was, but Henry definitely isn’t going free), Annette is brought to see him once in prison. Speaking fully for the first time, she declares she can’t forgive her parents for using her: Henry for exploiting her voice for profit and Ann for presumably using her to take vengeance on Henry. (Yes, this is why she was an inanimate doll moving on strings up to this point – there was some meaning in that strange, strange artistic choice. She was the puppet of her parents’ respective egotisms.) The puppet of Annette is abruptly replaced by a real girl in this scene, finally enabling two-sided interaction and a long-missed genuine connection between her and Henry, which made this quite the emotional catharsis. (SPOILER #2) It concludes with Annette still unwilling to forgive or forget what her parents have done, and swearing never to sing again. She says Henry now has “no one to love.” He appeals, “Can’t I love you, Annette?” She replies, “No, not really.” Henry embraces her one last time before a guard takes her away and Henry is left alone.

…..Yes, that is the end. It left me with major emotional whiplash, after the whole film up to this point kept pulling itself back from the total bleak and dark by starting up a new toe-tapping, mildly silly tune every few minutes. But this last scene instead ends on a brutal note of harsh, unforgiving silence.

BUT! Make sure you stick around through the credits, when you see the cast walking through a forest together. (This is counterpart to the film’s opening, when you see the cast walking through LA singing “So May We Start?” directly to the audience) Definitely pay attention to catch Adam chasing/playing with the little girl actress who plays Annette! That imparts a much nicer feeling to leave the theater with. :’)

[pi-cat000]

BNHA: Kakashi dimension hops crossover (1)

Summary: Kakashi gets dumbed into the My Hero Academia universe through random plot devise.

Characters:  Kakashi Hatake

Fandoms: My Hero Academia and Naruto

WARNINGS: Mentions of violence/injury

Inspired by Unforeseen Mayhem by Aerugonian 

Here is their tumblr (all their work is so good)

(NEXT)

...

Kakashi thinks he might have died. He remembers the flash of steel and Obito’s face or maybe it had been Madara. His memory of the events leading up to the attack are hazy after receiving one too many hits to the head. What he does remember is the slowly spinning, hypnotic red of a Sharingan, and the quick build-up then explosion of chakra.

Then there was excruciating pain in his left eye and…darkness…

…

Kakashi opens his remaining, usable eye to gaze up at tall angled structures that stretch into a grey overcast sky. He can’t feel the left side of his face, his limbs are numb and unresponsive, and there is the damp of blood soaking through his hair. The bone-deep ache of chakra exhaustion is so all-encompassing that he can barely lift his hand let alone stop the bleeding. Around him, there are several people yelling in shock and surprise. Civilians he vaguely notes as he clings to consciousness. There is no sign of Madera, Obito or any of Kakashi’s allies for that matter.

When his vision dims for a second time he thinks that this, this would be his last breath. Alone, severely injured, in a foreign location and with only civilians as help? It was a death sentence.

He is wrong in the end.

…

Kakashi wakes up in a strange hospital bed surrounded by the strangest people he has ever seen. He also wakes up covered in bandages, his more serious injures either treated or in various stages of recovery.

The air is dry with a distinct lack of chakra. It is something he would usually only see in a prison cell made to contain dangerous shinobi in which chakra draining fuinjutsu arrays were applied to the walls and floor. There are no fuinjutsu arrays here. This is not a prison cell. For one, there is a large window. Secondly, there is a constant stream of doctors, nurses and other patients moving in, out and around the building. Finally, the door to the room is not locked. It doesn’t even have a lock.

After memorising the comings and goings of the people working in the strange hospital, he takes some time to scout. Even while injured and drained of chakra, he has enough skill and experience to avoid the workers and other sickly people he shares his room with.

 The world outside his window is one of cement, concrete and brick, with tall imposing structures covered in reflective glass standing higher than any building he has seen before. The closest point of comparison he has are the buildings in the Hidden-Rain and Stone villages but even those are a loose approximation. The hospital is both similar to Konoha’s main hospital, abet a lot bigger and full of strange equipment and technology. The people, despite their lack of chakra, display odd and inconstant abilities, techniques and physical deformities. One of the doctors has a lizard tail and he catches a glimpse of a man with a wooden block for a head. He sees a woman heal a cut with a simple hand wave. Either he is in an unusually elaborate and detailed genjutsu or he is very far away from Kohoha.

Everything is so odd and strange that he is well and truly stumped, leaving him with nothing else to do but quickly return to his hospital room. At least the weird chakra-less people are non-hostiles and willing to provide much needed medical attention. Though he is, as of yet, uncertain about the purpose or motive behind said medical attention seeing as he was a complete unknown to them.

After some consideration, Kakashi decides to wait. He has no idea how he ended up in the place aside from a loose theory that involved his still healing Kamui Sharingan. Additionally, there was no use trying to get back home with stab wounds, his leg broken, his ribs cracked, his shoulder muscles torn and his chakra levels so pathetically low that he’d probably kill himself if he tried.

He takes solace in the fact that his presence, while probably missed to some extent- he likes to think so anyway- wouldn’t impact the outcome of any major conflict. With Naruto’s stubbornness and Sakura’s tenacity, home would be waiting for him, even if he took a bit of time getting there.

…

After a week of information gathering -ie pretending to be unconscious and listening to conversations- Kakashi concludes that the people operating the hospital are relatively harmless. They seem to be under the mistaken impression that Kakashi is a citizen of their village and thus automatically entitled to medical attention. This is despite his lack of identification or history with the place. Such a thing would never happen in Konoha as even civilians were carefully monitored and tracked. Without identification or relatives/friends to vouch for them, a civilian would more likely be thrown out of the village than given what was surely resource-consuming medical treatment. It is lucky for him that there are apparently so many civilians in this village that their shinobi-equivalent forces couldn’t properly keep track of them all. Another point in favour of it not being any sort of hidden-village or any place he was familiar with.

 “Oh, thank goodness!” Says the greying, middle-aged man in a white coat as he approaches Kakashi's bed, “You’re finally awake. How do you feel.”

“Ah…a bit tired,” Kakashi plasters on a confused smile, raising his undamaged hand to rub the back of his head, hunching his shoulders for good measure. The perfect image of a disoriented patient.

 “What happened? Where am I?”

There was only so much he could achieve be pretending to be unconscious and snooping around at night. It was time to get a real feel for residents of this strange place and figure out his next move. This meant integrating into the local culture.  

“No need to worry. You’re in Hosu General Hospital and you’re well on your way to recovery,” A nod and the doctor moves forward to stand beside his bed, “A little drowsiness is a normal side effect of the pain medication we have you on. Now, if I may have your name?”

“Kakashi.” If they hadn’t recognised the Sharingan when they had bandaged it up, then they most likely wouldn’t recognise his name either.

“Well, Kakashi,” The man says with no hint of acknowledgement, “My name is Wada Yasutoki and I’m here to make sure you are recovering properly. Can you tell me if you are feeling any discomfort or pain at the moment?”

“Hmmm…my arm and leg?”

“Would you be able to rate it on a scale of 1 to 10?”

Kakashi thinks for a second and shrugs, “3.” Honestly, he only notices the pain when he’s consciously paying attention.

Another nod and Doctor Wada fusses about, examining the bandages around his shoulder and then his leg, “Well, they seem to be healing as well as any broken limb, maybe even a bit faster. And the stab wound near your chest is almost completely gone.” A thoughtful hum follows the statement. “If not for your left eye I would say you had a healing or regeneration quirk…hmmm…maybe a passive healing factor linked to your quirk…?” Wada looks to him, waiting for confirmation and Kakashi shrugs. From his nightly snooping he knows that ‘quirk’ is the term for the bloodline ability things the people here had.

The Doctor doesn’t press the matter instead asking, “Is there any discomfort in the left side of your face?”

“No.” Kakashi doesn’t want the people here touching his eye any more than necessary. The fact that it is draining charka at its usual sluggish rate was a sign that it was, at least, somewhat functional and that’s good enough for him. He guesses he should be thankful for landing in a place with medicine advanced enough to save it.

“You had us concerned when you didn’t wake after we saw to all your injuries,” The Doctor continues, “Your left eye took quite a bit of damage and we were worried that there might have been some sort of brain injury. If you feel dizzy, lightheaded or confused please, do not hesitate to call a nurse.”

The man shakes his head and sighs, “Now, I understand if you want a bit of space after going through such a traumatic event but if you could provide any details concerning the predicament that ended with you so badly injured it would be a great help to the investigation.”

Kakashi gives a faked confused hum and smiles apologetically, “Sorry Doctor Wada. I'm having trouble remembering much of anything really.”

“Nothing? No details about the potential assailant at all. What they look like? Their quirk?”

“No. Where is Hosu General Hospital by the way?”

His bland expression obviously causes his doctor some concern as he is subjected to a penlight being shone in his uncovered eye.

 “It is located in Hosu City, a ward of Tokyo. Where is the last place you remember being?”

The names mean nothing to him.  Kakashi schools his features into one of complete confusion, “I don’t remember.” 

It’s not even a lie this time. 

After the admission,  Doctor Wada only grows more concerned and Kakashi is subjected to many reassurances that it is completely normal to forget a few things after a brain injury and that he shouldn’t worry himself too much. The level of comforting and reassuring is a bit much if he is being honest. Never before has he longed for the cold frowns of  Konoha’s medic-nin.

“I’ll have to schedule you in for an MRI. If you’re having trouble recalling basic facts alongside your long-term memories, then there might a serious problem.” The older man finally concludes, having run through an extensive list of questions regarding Kakashi’s history all of which he answers with vague half-truths.  Where did he grow up? Somewhere with a lot of trees. Did he have any close relatives? He thinks they might have died when he was little. What does he do for a living? Commission work. Did he have any colleagues? He doesn’t know where they are. So on and so forth.

“It’s a shame your ID and phone were missing when they found you. Stolen by the bastard who put you in this situation no doubt,” the Doctor sighs again, “We might have been able to track down your records. Oh well, we’ll do our best with what we have.”

Kakashi doesn’t speak, pretending to be deep in thought. Mentally, he pats himself on the back for an infiltration gone surprisingly well considering his lack of preparation and the flakiness of the ‘sorry I don’t remember my backstory’ excuse.

“I don’t suppose you remember anything about your quirk,” the doctor asks, “Ocular quirks can have odd effects on brain activity and ability to process information. It might give us a place to start.”

From what he had seen, ‘quirks’ tended to have a specific function but he is still trying to figure out their limits. All he knew for sure was that none of them used chakra.

“It’s called the Sharingan.” He offers to see what the doctor does with the information, “I don’t remember much else about it.”

“Hmmm, ‘copy wheel eye’…it’s a descriptive name at least. Maybe a quirk that deals with memorisation or information recall. I will see if I can find it on the Quirk Registry. Hopefully, that will be enough. ”

Kakashi nods loosely in agreement, filing away the fact that there was a Quirk Registry for later contemplation. 

(NEXT)

[silverstarsheep]

Could other animals be limbless like the limbless dudes in your history of about it? Do the limbless dudes swap parts with other animals to?

Honestly, that's an interesting prospect! But I'm not sure if the Heart itself would create simple animals, since the creatures it produces are so magically attuned. They could be animal-like, but may be more akin to dragons, in that they’re beasts, but able to use magic in a logical way. I think that the things that come out of the Heart of the World specifically would all be sapient in some way or shape.

However, the Limbless could use their magic, dreams, and the power of the Protoon to create limbless animals much like themselves! They would have to be pretty powerful wizards to accomplish this, but it's not out of the realm of possibility! Imagine if you will, a Limbless wizard who has dedicated their entire life to making cute animal companions for other Limbless. Probably covered in fur, like, all the time. 

Additionally, it's not out of the question for many Limbless that came out of the Heart to break the “design convention” of what a Limbless would typically look like. While we've only seen Limbless that look like Rayman in the Magician, it's possible that they can have more animal-like features, like ears, tails, claws, paws, etc. It’s just that the Rayman-like designs are the most common!

And, at that, sometimes parents can more or less pick the features of their child during the process of creating them. Possibilities are almost limitless when your babies are made of magic!

As for swapping parts, just in general, I feel like that could possibly be a thing that they could do–but it might be a little difficult. It requires a fair bit of magic to fully detach someone else’s hand and claim it fully as your own! Like, you can’t just yank off one hand and give it to someone else, lol. In this case, the new owner may have trouble keeping their hands in place (think of what happened at the end of Rayman 3 with Rayman’s hands even though I’m personally not fond of that ending). 

Not to mention, both parties would have to be willing to do the swap, or willing to donate a limb to someone that had lost one of theirs (which is, come to think of it, a distinct possibility for Limbless). So the local limbless dog may not appreciate swapping his paws for weird hands. 

They can only swap their hands and feet anyway, so it’s really just for aesthetics, or perhaps as a major display of affection or a really strong bond. Their body and head are too integral to their structure; the body is where most of their magic is stored, and their head is… Well, their head. Heads are pretty important. They wouldn’t really be “themselves” without their original head and torso!

That said, it could be pretty easy for them to create new hands and feet for themselves if they got lost, or if they simply want to change their overall look.  

[grayintogreen]

Worldbuilding Notes- once upon a damn-you-all (part one)

As promised, here is part one! These notes mainly cover the origin of the fic and how it evolved into a behemoth, some notes on the use of music, and some stuff on some of the original characters.

The second set of notes will cover my characterization and the plot significance of the Tombtakers and my notes on Cree and her development. The third will focus on Lucien and the Somnovem. The fourth will focus on the Mighty Nein and the changes to canon and some stuff about the sequel. The final set will be about the antagonists. I have... a lot of things I can talk about.

Fic Origins

As mentioned in the Author’s Notes for the first chapter, this entire fic was originally inspired by a throwaway bit from Matt’s Harvest’s Close notes that he released shortly after the episode aired. On top of just being a peek behind the curtain of Matt’s process, they included details about all of the Tombtakers- specifically their classes, full names (except Cree’s, which wasn’t revealed until the Catfight episode), and locations- and yes this is the only reason we HAVE full names for all the characters/subclasses since Matt never revealed them in game, if you were wondering about that. For the longest time if you were DESPERATELY obsessed with the Tombtakers/Lucien/Molly’s backstory and trying to create your own fanon, that was ALL you had. We didn’t even have RACES. (My guess was Zoran- Goliath, Otis- human, and Tyffial- Halfling, and as you can see I got one dead on accurate and just messed up who was the halfling). 

(Sidebar: I’m pretty sure Matt changed Tyffial to Fighter/Bloodhunter rather than Rogue/Bloodhunter, given her use of action surge, but I kept the original for… reasons. Sorry,  Matt, but I’m different.)

The ACTUAL inspiration for the fic, itself, however, came in a deleted “path” wherein the Nein betrayed the Gentleman and were caught and about to be sold into slavery and Cree busts them out and according to the notes, she would have tried to get Molly/the Nein to go to Nogvurot with her to deal with Molly’s missing memories and that they would pick up the other Tombtakers along the way. 

Now as someone who loves the Gentleman and his relationship with Jester, I didn’t want to ruin that relationship irrevocably, so I decided that a safer alternative was just that Cree chased the Nein and provided them with a means to save Molly. The same scenario ultimately plays out- Cree convinces Molly to go to Nogvurot. The rest is a clusterfuck.

The fic actually went through three sets of revisions to the major plot (if you were here from the beginning, you’ll remember the chapter counts changing). The original was simply the Nein meeting the Tombtakers, winning Cree over, and Molly dealing with the eyes/Lucien on a much smaller scale. It was a twelve chapter affair where the primary conflict was Cree’s redemption and then the aftereffects of what goes down with Vess (the ripples of which haven’t even come up yet). 

That version of the story got scrapped early though for a lot of reasons- there just wasn’t enough time to deal with the redemption story I wanted to tell or really get into the meat of what Molly “opening” the eyes meant or, honestly, much of a major plot. It was just a series of vignettes. (Tyffial didn’t even HAVE a subplot in that version.)

Version two added the Court of Nightmares story (which ended up changing due to Campaign Three things, but mostly only in the sense that Matt fucking came up with a better NPC than one I had created). Version Three was how we ended up with the Hupperdook Sideplot that was NOT in the second major draft of the outline (they went to Hupperdook, but they didn't get involved in that clusterfuck), but ended up being integral that I can’t imagine it not existing now. (It was added in as a way to deal with a lot of the Nein’s growing tension I hadn’t anticipated and give Cree a mini turning point before reaching Tyffial.)

The nine-arc structure was in the second draft of the outline (the Pride arc is so long because it wasn't supposed to have that entire Stahlmast subplot, but I think Guilt ended up being longer anyway, so no one noticed or cared). Originally, it was just for me and then I started referencing the arcs outside of the story and then finally I just went back and edited where they begin into the correct chapters. And yes, they are named after the Somnovem, hence one of many reasons why I insist on Elatis being Pride.

Use of music

You may notice that I insert A LOT of songs into this damn story. Some of it is due to the sheer amount of bards or dancing scenes (look I love a good dancing scene), but the real meat of it comes down to Shadycreek Run and my headcanons for it.

Given the nature of SCR being a hive of scum and villainy that, nevertheless, must have some decent people who are either stuck there or stubborn and those people have to cope somehow- why not by singing? A lot of songs coming out of the Run are bawdy pub numbers, songs about tragic stories, or FUCK YOU fight anthems and they're a big part how the Tombtakers cope. Even Zoran and Otis, who aren't from the Run, appreciate good songs.

And this ends up being a big connection to Molly as a person independent of Lucien. The hivemind scene in Nogvurot where Otis sings "Star of the County Down" to fuck with Tyffial and Molly joins in on his own is important for that reason. Zoran's "well he knows all the songs" is the only time anyone besides Cree accepts Molly as someone who isn't just a placeholder for Lucien. (And you can see later when we meet Zoran that he probably has the least desperate opinions on getting Lucien back- his concern is wholly for Cree. It's not that he doesn't want Lucien back- it's just that of all of them, he's presently concerned with what's in front of him. Molly can sing along, therefore Molly can keep up with them and if he isn't hurting Cree, then that's all right by him.)

As for Molly? Desmond and Gustav are both bards who came from the Run and taught him a lot of the songs they picked up there. He joins in with the Tombtakers (and later Lucien in the Cathedral) because he learned those songs from being in the circus, not because they were latent Lucien memories. He and Lucien have independent memories of learning the same songs, and when you're constantly being told "no you're a shadow and a fragment and not a whole, independent person" then that's something to hold onto.

But beyond that, the purpose of that specific scene shows a human side to all of the Tombtakers, especially the ones who had been antagonistic up until the sing-a-long. Even Tyffial, while threatening Otis, sings along and is having fun with it. This is our first glimpse of the four of them together in a situation that isn't dire or confrontational- they're just people. And Molly needed to learn that.

That scene is also supposed to make Lucien singing alone in the Cathedral when Molly enters all the more potent, but I dunno if it came off that way or just came off self-indulgent. Lucien can't join in with the singing and instead of singing a bawdy, upbeat song to be playful while he's stuck where he is, he's singing a song about a tragic hero to show that not only is he lonely and alone, but he's that way because of how he's set himself apart as a "tragic hero" that Molly is preventing from returning. He'd rather wallow in self-pity and anger than realize the problem is him.

Many, Many Characters

So in creating this massive tour de force, I realized I was going to need to populate the world with tons of original characters, both antagonistic and otherwise. I come from a time in fandom where Blorbos From Your Head were like putting your fic in a Death Note, so I used to avoid it at all costs, but obviously I could not do that here if I was going to make Matt’s world feel lived in- you can see at the beginning where I mostly tried to take characters from the EGTW and just toss them in- Stahlmast, Nima, Ishel, etc. The Hupperdook arc’s only true OCs were Melancholia and the Clockwork Hounds and Mel was a final boss and the Clockwork Hounds were just me taking a Cowboy Bebop reference as far as I could possibly take it. 

That said, I was ALWAYS going to include OCs in significant roles (and not just as antagonists. I just wanted to get farther in the story and for the audience to trust me first before I started flinging them in. (Remember when I said that most of that arc was a buffer? In the original draft of the outline, the Hounds weren't even there and I planned to reuse Blemy's group, but that wasn't exciting.)

Faint Chance and Agee making their first appearances after that arc was not a coincidence. They are, and will remain, the two most significant OCs to the whole narrative who aren’t villains. I treat them more like guest characters than NPCs… They’re just guest characters who got cameos before their true plot appearances and therefore I don’t view them with the same lens when I think about “casting.” Rinna Pathan, if she were played in a movie, would be Sophia Ali, but Agee is if Megan Nicole Dong guest starred on Critical Role, if that makes sense. (I mean I guess you have to consider it in real terms, the difference is if this was real and not a fanfic, Matt would be playing Rinna, but not Agee.)

(Fun fact: there are actually significantly less OCs in the sequel due to not having to make up so many people to fill space in that fic, and I am saddened and relieved by that.)

That said, let me talk about some of the OCs. Not all of them, obviously. If you have questions about some of the minor ones then you are free to ask.

First of all, let’s go with Agee. Agee was a result of wondering what kinds of races Dynasty folk were being reborn as while the beacon was in the Empire while also thinking about the process of anamnesis and how that sort of thing could affect a random Empire teenager already going through puberty, which… was a lot. I ended up choosing a firbolg specifically because at sixteen she probably wouldn’t necessarily be going through firbolg puberty, but she would also be VERY YOUNG by her species’ standards and therefore not equipped to handle any of this, which added conflict without me having to deal with how to respectfully manage hormone-riddled teenager going through a crisis of Self. So yeah, the result is an extremely anxious, desperate ornery child who wants to touch everything and maybe even steal it. She was designed with Glendale in mind (hence Megan Nicole Dong), but evened out somewhat. 

I also didn’t want her to be human because I knew Beau would project onto her and it felt more compelling to me for Beau to see herself in someone radically different from her, both in where she comes from and what she looks like, and the firbolgs she’s met so far have been SO CHILL and Agee is very much… not. Honestly I feel like Agee being a firbolg and a neurotic mess has really helped me write people being more cautious around Caduceus because they all KNOW that’s not just a Firbolg Thing early on. They do know what anxiety and negative emotions are and therefore Caduceus cannot possibly be that chill all the time.

The character that would become Faint Chance was originally a younger female tabaxi who lost her Clan and immediately gloms onto Cree as a mentor figure and follows the Nein and slips in and out of danger while Cree is like WHY at her and it’s ultimately a lesson about how dangerous following someone blindly can be which is a lesson Cree needs to learn, but I ditched this plot because (1. The Nein are already teaching her that without it being heavy handed, (2. I really wanted Cree to get a better perspective on tabaxi culture, and (3. It’s cute when she’s flirted with.

So I replaced that character with a fast-talking, rapping tabaxi bard from Tal’Dorei. I made him a bard/rogue specifically based on a tumblr post I saw about how a bard/rogue tabaxi can be the most broken character known to man, while just stacking his flaws to keep him from being an absolute Godmod Sue- the result is a character who loves to take his chance on a gamble and it does not always pan out for him. Also I think, aside from the fact that I hc three damn NPCs (Gustav, Desmond, and Marion) as bards, there's a significant lack of bards in Campaign Two. Also he's a College of Eloquence bard, hence the fast-talk. I thought re-skinning a CoE bard worked best for someone who is basically inventing hip-hop/rap in Exandria.

I made him a margay tabaxi because I decided he’d come from the Rifenmast Peninsula before anything else (I wanted there to be a Tal’Dorei perspective to balance out all of this Wildemount) and was looking up jungle cats for anything to base him off of and decided margay because the height difference was hilarious. Also being that close to Byroden means he has a southern accent, hence the way he talks. (If you absolutely HAVE to know, he would be a Lin Manuel Miranda guest character, which I thought was TERRIBLY OBVIOUS to the point where I didn't actually want to admit it.)

[leguin]

COULD cobra kai have started in 2005 and ran for fifteen seasons and if so what would it look like.

right off the bat i have to say that i feel like cobra kai could not have run for 15 seasons, but then i still don’t understand how supernatural ran for 15 seasons. i assume blackmail was involved.

could cobra kai have aired in 2005? i think the answer is less straightforward than it seems. on the one hand, karate kid nostalgia has been at a fairly even level in the 2000s, with a peak following the 2010 reboot. all signs indicate william zabka has been ready and willing to bring johnny lawrence back to the screen since at least the 2007 “sweep the leg” music video, and likely before then. in 2005 he was fresh off of an oscar nomination for his co-writing and production work for a short film, and while it’s possible that he might have seen cobra kai as an unwelcome detour from his plans to be a filmmaker, it’s just as likely that the show would’ve provided an opportunity to get more name recognition and funding for future projects.

ralph macchio was, in 2005, playing himself on entourage. i think he also would’ve also been down with playing daniel larusso at that point.

but would america have been down with cobra kai in 2005? it’s a question with a lot of parts to the answer, so i’m just going to narrow down on one angle in particular - masculinity, patriotism, and the american relationship with the two at the time. (cut for length, i cannot believe how long this got.)

so what’s going on in 2005? dubya has just been re-elected. the iraq war is in full swing. my great-uncle is in the middle of killing the family email list with his relentless messages telling my parents to leave the country if they don’t agree with american foreign policy. the show 24 is pulling in over 10 million viewers an episode. my impression now, as someone who was 9 in 2005 and did not watch tv, is that the television landscape of america was one interested in narratives about america - but in a particular way.

i don’t think the karate kid movies would have done well if they were released in 2005. editing choices aside, it’s a film series that’s deeply condemnatory when it comes to macho bullshit in general, and physical violence in particular. it ties physical violence to structural violence, especially in the second film, and the american military is highlighted as a perpetrator of that violence (especially in miyagi and kreese’s pasts).

i bring this up because i don’t think cobra kai has taken the same stance, or at least not clearly or to the same extent. it’s interesting, because i think the show is generally very intelligent with how it engages in nostalgia - much like the lonely island’s unauthorized bash brothers experience, it’s interested in deconstructing and exaggerating masculinity for comedic effect, but also as part of the process of exploring cycles of trauma and abuse. at the same time, it’s either less interested or less believing in tracing that trauma back to structural causes the way the movies were. (more optimistically, you could say that the showrunners assume familiarity with the movies will cover that base for them.)

i don’t think cobra kai could have or would have aired in 2005 with that same level of indifference/indecision. in part this is because pat morita was still alive at the time, and i think if he’d been involved that would have required a more attentive look at the films’ relationship with america because it’s such a significant part of miyagi’s character. but perhaps the bigger problem is that the concept of the show is - or should be - antithetical to the kind of ra ra, support the troops, torture is just as american as apple pie atmosphere that so much of the country was fully enveloped in. you don’t get johnny lawrence in all his awful dysfunction without kreese. and, canonically, you don’t get kreese without the american military. you don’t get daniel larusso, in all of his dysfunction, without 1) the insanity of the third film, which is driven by kreese and terry silver, neither of whom would be who they are without the military and 2) miyagi’s influence - and again, miyagi’s character and philosophy is one informed by his relationship with violence, and particularly state violence. again, the military is integral to this.

would americans in 2005 have been willing to watch a show so conceptually dependent on acknowledging the destructive nature of the american military? i dunno. it’s possible that the show could’ve attracted an audience politically inclined that way, although if my parents were any indication, a lot of that audience didn’t own a tv. but my instinct is that to garner either mainstream or devoted niche success, cobra kai would have either had something entirely different to say about masculinity (and thus would have been dumb and terrible in ways it currently isn’t), or been more specific with their critique. throwing in shots of the american flag in the cobra kai dojo the way the show currently does would not have cut it, i think.

so what would it have looked like? i’m not sure! probably unwatchable, honestly, but maybe not. to go back to the post that prompted this, i don’t know that johnny lawrence could ever have been such a...whatever dean winchester is in terms of deconstruction and satirization and celebration and dirge of american masculinity, because supernatural did it seemingly unintentionally - cobra kai is quite intentional about it, and i think that keeps it from reaching such hypnotic, dizzying heights. i’d like to think there’s a universe out there where people rushed onto tumblr in the year 2020 to discuss the last great american queerbait of johnny and daniel’s relationship. but it’s probably only one universe. the odds are pretty stacked against it.

[magicalleprechaun]

Thanks, Fri

Read on AO3

Since hanging out at the tower and unofficially living there, Peter learned that Friday was always right and always reliable. She could answer his questions. Always. No matter what it was. Peter trusted her with his life.

“Friday, why are my spidey senses going off?”

“A probable cause would be that Mr. Barton has entered the ventilation system above you, which was not designed nor has the structural integrity to hold his weight. I estimate that the ceiling will collapse in three minutes.”

Peter left the room and heard the crash of the vents falling exactly three minutes later. He timed it. Peter smiled. “Thanks, Fri.”

“Hey Friday, is something dangerous happening?”

“In the testing room of the developmental labs two floors down, there has been an abnormally large explosion. No serious danger has been detected as the danger was contained. Is this what you detected as dangerous?”

“Yeah, Fri. Thanks.

It’s not that Peter thought the world was gonna end every time his senses went off. He had more common sense than that. But he worried sometimes when it went off, and knowing everything was okay let him sit a little easier.

“Fri, what set off my senses?”

“That may have been the additional security on floor 72. One of the new PR interns set off a security alarm accidentally, and guards from surrounding floors converged on the area.”

“Everything’s good though, right?”

“Yes, nothing of note has occurred.”

“Good. You’re the best, Fri.”

“If you would be so kind, remind Boss of this fact.”

Honestly, sometimes his senses were so faint, he was just plain curious. Friday was a nice way to just get the curiosity out of his system so he could focus.

“Is something happening, Friday?”

“Miss Romanoff is working boxing in the training room. She appears to be exerting more force than usual.”

“Is she okay?”

“She does not appear severely distressed, though she did attend a confidential meeting including Secretary Ross.”

Peter felt a little bad about forgetting to thank Friday on the way to the training room, but he figured she’d understand.

“Fri, what’s happening?”

“Boss has made a false prediction about the maximum output of his new repulsor and has set a car on fire. It is currently being put out.”

“What was the maximum output?” Peter asked, curiosity piqued.

“267% of the output of his last repulsor design.”

“How’d he do that without being flown backwards? Or melting the glove?”

“The former answer is that he didn’t. I have ordered a new desk for him. The latter you will need to ask yourself.”

Peter laughed and stood from the couch. “Thanks Fri!” He chimed as he ran to the elevator.

“How are we doing Friday?”

“There are no dangerous situations nearby, if you are referring to your senses. My guess would be that they were set off as Mr. Rogers entered the building.”

“Thanks Friday,” Peter said as he left the common area and hid in his bedroom. He figured now wasn’t a good time to meet, with the tension between Steve and Tony. (Steve, Sam, and Bucky started to hang around the tower after that. Peter wasn’t sure when they moved in, but he’s almost certain they live in the tower now. His spider sense stopped going off when he found them competing for 10th place in MarioKart.)

Peter swore Friday could read his mind. He could ask the vaguest question and she would know what he meant.

“Friday, what’s up?”

“Mr. Rogers forgot that metal cannot be microwaved. Mr. Wilson is handling the situation.”

“Thanks Fri. That’s awesome,” Peter snorted.

“Give me the tea, Friday,”

“Mr. Wilson has found the web shooters that you left on the kitchen table last night. He has since proceeded to web himself, Mr. Barnes, and Boss to the wall. I also estimate that seventy four percent of the room has been covered in your webs.”

Peter laughed.

“Boss has also asked that you bring your web dissolving solution to the common area.”

If Peter brought the slow working web dissolved, sue him. He wanted time to take pictures.

“What’s up Friday?”

“Lightning from the storm has hit the building, though all energy from the storm is being stored in batteries and poses no danger.”

“Thanks Fri. You’re the best.”

“What’s up, Fri?”

No answer. Peter was pretty sure he felt his spider sense kick up a notch. Or maybe it was the anxiety of knowing Friday wasn’t watching his back. Who knows?

“Fri?” He called out again. Still no answer.

“Tony!” Peter called, his spider sense racketing up again. He ran from his bedroom to find Tony.

He wasn’t in his bedroom, which freaked Peter out more than he knew it should have. It’s not like Tony was in his bedroom often. But still, it was one place Tony wasn’t during an emergency.

Peter races to the elecator, trying not to freak out because it was the first place he looked and Tony could be anywhere in the tower and fine.

Peter glanced out of the elevator and decided that Tony wasn’t in the common room either.

So he had to bye in the lab or in his office. Because those were the only two options. Nothing else was acceptable. It couldn’t happen, not again.

No. No freaking out until he knew something was wrong. Everything could be completely fine and Tony was just updating Friday and that was why she was offline and his spider sense just went off because he got anxious.

The elevator opened silently to the lab and Peter took in the situation in front of him. Three men in black had their backs turned to him. He couldn’t see any guns but he could guess that they were big by the way the men held their weight. Not exactly great. And all three guns were pointed at Tony. Tony, who had his hands up. Tony, who wasn’t fighting back. Tony, who didn’t have his fucking armor because Friday was down and he was completely exposed. Shit.

Tony made eye contact for the briefest second before looking back at the gunmen. His face never gave anything away, but Peter could hear him take fuller breaths, and could see his hands relax in the slightest. And it really shouldn’t be hitting Peter now that Tony trusted him to not screw it all up. That Tony trusted him with his life.

While making a quick plan, Peter was suddenly very thankful for a lot of things:

The gunmen had cornered Tony and hadn't had a lookout, so they didn’t see Peter.

Natasha worked with him on stealth just a few days ago.

Peter’s last project had been webfluid.

His desk was closer to the elevator than Tony’s.

He stalked over to his desk where his webshooters laid on the table, already filled with high-strength webs that he was working on yesterday. He strapped them to his wrists and, as a last minute decision, Peter snatched an Iron Man helmet that laid on a shelf to cover his face. He caught Tony’s small smirk at that.

It didn’t take long for Peter to web up the guys. He thinks they only had training in intimidation because they just kind of stood there and didn’t put up any fight. Eventually, they were escorted out by SHIELD, and Peter and Tony relocated to the common area soon after that.

(As soon as they were alone, Tony doubled over laughing.Honestly, Peter was concerned he was going to fall over as he gasped out something about “zombie Iron Man”. Apparently Peter didn’t realize that the Iron Man helmet he put on to save his identity had been tinkered with, and half of the outside casing had been removed, so Peter looked undead. Tony had Friday play the recording of the horror on the men’s faces, and Peter caught one of them muttering “They’ve come alive to kill us all.”)

“Fri, what’s happening?”

“Nothing of interest is taking place in the tower, though your blood sugar is abnormally low, probably due to the fact that you have not eaten since your patrol 4 hours ago. You are currently at high risk for fainting, and I recommend eating something.”

Peter made sure he got up slowly when he got a snack. “Thanks Fri.”