#i fuckin loved Tasks its why i tested well too

[pleckthaniel]

Aight I'm only 22 years old and I'm beginning to see why paperwork loses its charm for real full-fledged adults.

[bladekindeyewear]

HS^2 bloggin’ mainline 2020-12-25

I’m not going to spend time BLOGGING an upd8 on Christmas morning!

...yes I am who the fuck am I kidding.  (Bonus stuff and Hiveswap are still well on hold though.)

So are we gonna follow up on the main ship?  Probably not, right, with that perfect Karkat point to cut away, right?  We’re just going to leave Roxy’s question hanging, as well as makeouts etiquette, and leave while having seen a COUPLE FRAMES of non-possessed canon Jade with only whatever fun fanart was inspired across the internet by the moment to tide us over????

Yeah, probably.

Ugh, more Dirk.  I guess it’s overdue.  :(

> CHAPTER 16. Welcome to my Secret Lair

Oh huh, I guess not?  So... Jane’s, or Rose and Kanaya’s?

Karkat stays for longer than John thought he would. They talk a bit, but mostly they are quiet. Eventually, Karkat gets called away on yet more important war business, leaving John with one final touch on the shoulder. John leans into it in response, though he’s a bit ashamed of chasing down a sliver of physical affection so soon after obliterating Karkat’s evening like he had.

Pretty much, yeah.  Can’t blame either of them.

When Karkat is finally gone, John still doesn’t move. It isn’t as though he has nowhere else to go, since there are quite a few places he might attempt to make himself useful, for better or for worse.

You’re still abandoning the task that was explicitly yours to protect your literal kid and his friends, but, oh well.  Low-point.  Dave dead, house dead, broke news, I get it.

He just doesn’t feel ready for that yet. The remnants of his house are still smoldering, and he can’t stop staring at them. It would make sense, he thinks, to want to root around through the rubble for anything that’s still intact; some half-charred keepsake to claim as the last thing left that’s still his. But he doesn’t want to do it, and he doesn’t want to think about it. And he still can’t move.

Can’t move.  No Breath huh?  What’s going to get him to, then?

> (==>)

Oh boy, that might help.  XD  She’s pretty good at that.

> (==>)

Still with the waistline gap.  And was his phone always yellow like his God-Tier shoes?

ROXY: hey john can u do me a quick solid ROXY: actly idk how quick itll be but its definitely solid ROXY: harry anderson says i just missed u being here but could u skip back on over?

Nice, huh!  No judgment, just a hey-any-chance-you-could-swing-back.  He sort of needs to be needed right now, in a simple, almost everyday non-judgmental way I guess.  (That’s what he NEEDED anyway-- whether he deserved it though is up for debate.)

ROXY: i need help w/smth and yr darling boy is holed up in his room working on some fuckin craft project or other and cant be bothered

YES SEW JOHN A BETTER FITTING FUCKING OUTFIT

ROXY: and now that me and u are freshly on speakin terms again i might as well take advantage of that olive branch and put u to work ROXY: assumin you havent died in an air raid, that is ROXY: which id also be interested in knowin about so if u wld be so kind as to reply instead of leavin me hangin

Heheheh.  Gosh Roxy is always the best.

JOHN: yea yea sorry im here. JOHN: i just had a hard time getting my phone out of these fucking tiny pants.

Hah.

JOHN: and also my house is bombed out so i'm kinda grappling with that. JOHN: but i honestly am not sure how much longer i need to sit around staring at it. trying to align my memories of my youth with whatever is happening right now so JOHN: short version is no i’m not dead, and yeah i can come back over there and help you out. ROXY: oh sweet yr alive and down to do manual labor its a win/win JOHN: see you soon.

Yep!  Pulled away from all the metaphorical, ultra-meaningful bullshit, back to some brass tacks with some easy humor.  Definitely something Roxy can do well.~

> (==>)

EXCUSE ME.  What is that outfit and pose.  Did you--

ROXY: sup ROXY: follow me ROXY: well were just going to my room so i guess technically u know the way JOHN: haha ok.

Did you invite him over for the manual labor of banging you while your son is sewing in the other room

Or maybe the labor is making him a new sibling.  JFC

Is this plan part of why we got the sudden content warning that was mocked or was that mainly for Hiveswap 

John follows, trying to shake the ominous feeling he got from what she’d just said. He’d been in and out of this house a lot in the past few days. Why should this be any different?

I DUNNO JOHN DOES THIS SEEM DIFFERENT TO YOU

> (==>)

Yea this seems like a fucc room.

JOHN: it’s not like i could forget! ROXY: ya i guess u only really saw the living room when you were here the other day but i have changed some stuff up ROXY: done a lil redecoratin here n there

So it’s MORE of a fucc room than previously >__>”

ROXY: may have to do a smidge more if my old bff decides im next on the list for bombing out ROXY: but so far so good

Ah geez.

ROXY: just a coupla exploded cars in the yard from some shenanigans our dear son and his friends were in but u kno it is what it is!!!

Well, that’ll buff out easy.

ROXY: can i get u anything? ROXY: just made some coffee JOHN: no, uh, i’m good.

Of course she has a fancy handled winecoffeeglass  (and the handle does look ridiculous but it’d be too hot to hold otherwise)

Roxy shrugs and swirls her own coffee around in her novelty mug. John looks around. A lot about the room is the same. The family photos, the rug. There’s a lot more cat stuff in there now, though. The bed is new. John feels like he’s about to take a test he hasn’t studied for. He makes himself focus on what she’s saying.

That would be the feeling.

> (==>)

MY GOD.  Roxy is so fucking good at this holy shit

She KNOWS she’s making him squirm and she loves it

JOHN: so uh anyway. JOHN: what was this favor? ROXY: yo why dont u just come rest yr tush for a bit ROXY: take a lil relax next 2 me here JOHN: haha uh. JOHN: roxy i uh. JOHN: im flattered, but i don’t know if that’s really the right step right now. JOHN: don’t get me wrong, everything seems so fucked up right now that when i try to think about what might actually BE the right step, it feels like a huge cartoon question mark might physically manifest over my head. JOHN: but I’m not sure if um rekindling our physical relationship is really the best--

So is Roxy trolling him, about to reveal she wasn’t thinking of sex and was just making things seem sultry?  Or just had “lol jk” as an option-select, maybe.

> (==>)

ROXY: r u kiddin me rn egbert JOHN: i’m not? unless you were, in which case yeah lets say i was also kidding. JOHN: oh my god, i’m sorry, i don’t know why this making me freak out.

OH NOOO NOT THE DISDAAAAIN - CRITICAL HIT D:

ROXY: i remember our past boot knockin with fondness but that is a situation im not interested in revisiting

boot knockin XD

ROXY: look john ROXY: i was trying to be polite about it ROXY: offering u sustenance n rest n all ROXY: but you look like shit ROXY: i just wanted to catch up on the whole heinous war situation were in and maybe check in on e/o before leaping strait to the real n actual nonsexual manual labor favor i have in mind for u JOHN: oh.

Hey, she can’t help looking sexy she’s too good at it.

Is the manual labor moving the crashed cars?  Can’t Roxy pull that off on her own, or... banish the cars to the void or something?  (Oh, but WOULD she want to do it on her own when she can rope in John and bring him down to earth by giving him a useful task?  And admittedly his strength and wallet would make things easier.)

John feels his shoulders unbunch. Of course. Yeah. He’s almost embarrassed by how relieved he feels. So what if his ex wife wanted to hook up? Shouldn’t that be a situation he could navigate? Don’t people like to find solace in human physical connection during dire times? Why did the idea of it make his mind white out in panic more than, say, any number of the traumas he just experienced?

Probably some gender stuff mixed up in there too, June.

He doesn’t know, but he believes Roxy that he must look pretty haggard. He probably feels haggard? Maybe sitting down will feel better.

Just put your feet up yeah

> (==>)

WHAT A CUTE IMAGE

JOHN: sorry. like i said, my "how to react to stuff" meter is completely fucked right now. ROXY: thats fair bud

she’s used to being patient with you don’t worry otherwise you never would’ve gotten this far

ROXY: real fast i do need to do a quick takeback of all that shit i said last time we talked about janey not being literally the most evil person we knew or whatever ROXY: i guess i was hopped up on arguin or somethin since that was before we hit our conversational vibe bc of course u were right and i shoulda listened

Ouch.  Yeah, we saw just lately just how far off the deep end she was.  (Where was that funny upd8 reaction art summarizing the bit where Kanaya was holding Tavros hostage and Jane was transparently debating “hmm do I let my son die?” and Kanaya and Tavros were just looking at each-other flat-mouthed nervous?  I REALLY wanted to share that but I don’t usually want to reblog or put most stuff HS^2 not under a read-more, for spoiler purposes, usually.)

ROXY: im just glad ur ok ROXY: or like alive JOHN: yeah, jury's still out on "ok" but, you know. ROXY: ya ROXY: u said ur house is gone?? JOHN: yep. JOHN: completely. ROXY: jeez ROXY: i would ask how ur feelin but like the answer 2 that has got 2b "prtty bad"

Talk it ouuuut~~  get those feels out there and articulated john

JOHN: yeah. JOHN: i mean. JOHN: no? JOHN: it’s weird. JOHN: it feels like it should be a bigger deal, I guess? JOHN: like it’s my HOUSE. JOHN: but mostly it always felt like my dad’s house? JOHN: and when i started living there after i moved out of here, it was like i crammed myself back into whatever was left of my kid self? JOHN: and it didn’t feel good, but it at least was familiar, you know? JOHN: like living there let me feel closer to my dad, trying to be like the way i remember him, or like how i remember him wanting me to be, or something? JOHN: and i didn’t realize how much i hated doing that until i saw it all go up in flames. JOHN: so i guess i could have used my powers to stop the fire and save whatever was left of the place, but i couldn’t bring myself to do it. JOHN: like some fucked up part of me was glad i got there too late? JOHN: so i just sat there, watching, trying to figure out why watching my house burn down felt like i was being released from prison. JOHN: and even now i keep trying to explain it away, as though it’s because of how fucked up everything else is that it made me feel good. JOHN: but that’s just bullshit. JOHN: it DID feel good. JOHN: i DO feel free. JOHN: sorry.

I was kind of saying some Breath/Blood stuff at the time of him losing his last tie to his stubborn sticking-to-his-kid-self bit?  Except now we’re mixing it in with June Egbert and his gender-identity questions too.

ROXY: no need 2 apologize ROXY: we just delved in2 my whole gender thing last time so it seems fine for u to have a turn JOHN: i didn’t say it was a gender thing.

Oh shit

ROXY: well no i just meant like i did some sharing ROXY: like referrin 2 the topic i brought up when we chatted last ROXY: but like now that u mention it ROXY: *meaningful pause* JOHN: … JOHN: i JOHN: ROXY: lol well we can move on 2 the favor part if youd rather ROXY: stick a lil pin in that topic n come back 2 it when u have had sleep

Are you just INCREDIBLY incisive Roxy or have you and John talked about this before?

ROXY: like i said the other day its not like this shits figureoutable in 1 sitting anyways JOHN: yeah... ROXY: sooooooo ROXY: movin on

It’s just fine for Roxy to slow-roll this yeah, if she’s going to pry open that door a little

ROXY: dont be mad but theres a part of the house u didnt know abt the whole time u lived here JOHN: what? ROXY: yea ROXY: i got a secret lair ROXY: for my sciences

OH FUCK YES SCIENCE LAB, of COURSE Roxy would want a cool science lab basement because she always wants a cool science lab basement

ROXY: and i get to it via a transportalizer underneath our bed ROXY: which is 2 heavy 2 move by my lonesome so i just needed to borrow some o your aforementioned powers of wind

Okay no.  Wait.  What the fuck?

First of all, as funny and MSPaintAdventures-y as furniture being in the way of things is, why would you block it with a bed too heavy to move, but,

Second of all, more importantly, how is a GOD-TIER ROXY not strong enough to lift a heavy bed?!?!?!?  Either she’s lying to get John involved in things or this is a gendered cop-out because these characters are superheroes at the TOP of their echeladders, given obnoxiously powerful video-game strength and athletics only to then have ascended into DEITIES.  God-Tier Roxy could probably have lifted a bed like that when she was SEVENTEEN!  And now she’s an ADULT, out-of-shape or otherwise!  If this were a whole CAR I might be willing to handwave it, but just a heavy BED?!?  And none of the GUYS are going to have this much trouble lifting a bed like this, are they??  This just feels like following classic cartoony gender tropes in the complete absence of these characters’ super powers, what the fuck, and also Roxy if you didn’t make it Transportalizer-only access you could have given it an entrance you could phase through with your fancy powers to get to.  FUCK.

This feels stupid.

ROXY: so if u dont mind woosh away JOHN: uh ok, well... JOHN: a secret science lair, sure, i can deal with that. JOHN: why not! JOHN: it doesn’t work out great when i do the windy thing indoors, though. ROXY: aight then no wind bending just use your mangrit

Roxy flexes, the corner of her mouth pulled up into a familiar grin. John feels his guts, so recently calmed, twist up into knots again. Her eyebrows shoot up and the smile loosens. He must have shown something on his face.

You’re already THIS sensitive about gendertalk?

ROXY: ok or just like push when i push ROXY: we both got sick muscles ROXY: no other adjectives necessary JOHN: yeah ok. ROXY: on 3?

Please, please reinforce the idea that they both have sick strength, because they fucking do and the idea that Roxy actually a hundred percent NEEDED John to do this is BS.

> (==>)

JOHN: holy shit? ROXY: sorry to lop yet another huge scoop onto ur lil brains ice cream revelation sundae JOHN: so wait, if this thing's always been under the bed, how’d you get down here before without me? ROXY: well thats neither here nor there john JOHN: i mean it is kinda. Here. ROXY: fine ok checkmate ROXY: i dont ACTUALLY need ur nerdgrit for this escapade ROXY: like im sorry but i said it ROXY: i mostly just wanted to see you and show u wats down here

THANK FUCKING CHRIST.

If that wasn’t actually just a lie to get him involved I was going to stay SO mad.  Of COURSE Roxy can move a fucking BED no matter how heavy it is.  OF COURSE.

ROXY: and also uve been ~sent for~ JOHN: ok but like ROXY: john i am inviting u 2 my inner sanctum ROXY: i am literally bringing out the word "sanctum" in case u werent already clued in 2 how cool this is ROXY: so do u wanna go into my secret lair or wat JOHN: yeah!? JOHN: yes? i guess? ROXY: aight good

Yes John of course you want to stop fighting it

ROXY: then as they told me in the hospital before lil h a was born ROXY: just push

eyeroll, but yeah, of course

> (==>)

Oh cool, sprite form version of her loungewear.

> (==>)

Sorry for my compulsion to post every full-frame image of Roxy in this awesome outfi-WERE YOU KEEPING CALLIOPE UNDER YOUR BED THIS WHOLE TIME?!?????

That’s like... almost a fucking metaphor isn’t it????  For the relationship you preferred in the other timeline and possibly THIS one TOO or

ROXY: hey callieee i got him ROXY: o damn john sorry i shoulda also told u callies here weve been hangin out again ROXY: 1 more freak for ur bean

Oh huh, so this isn’t an always thing.  And these two can get close in more than one timeline where it would’ve worked out nicely.  :)

JOHN: oh it's ok, my bean feels pretty well adjusted to freakage at this point so keep them coming if you like! ROXY: k cool i will JOHN: do i get to know what that big thing under the sheet is? ROXY: hmmmmmm no JOHN: oh ok. JOHN: are you sure? i mean, it seems like a pretty prominent feature of the room. JOHN: space. JOHN: wherever we are. ROXY: and a totally mysterious n COMPLETELY inconspicuous feature it will have to remain for now ROXY: we r kinda in a hurry here fyi ROXY: and by that i mean ROXY: we are in precisely the amount of hurry that means im excused from having to a that specific q rn JOHN: right, sorry. JOHN: i will pay no attention to the object behind the curtain. ROXY: u catch on fast egbert ROXY: anyway theres more cool info coming so just follow me

I don’t have any big theories.  Is it just the Hiveswap device or something?  If Calliope helped with it it’d help explain the Cherubic theme.

> (==>)

JOHN: so... this is all downstairs? JOHN: it seems like you had a lot of work done. ROXY: well no not x actly ROXY: were in the old meteor JOHN: under the house??? ROXY: ok so ROXY: in hindsight it may have been a bit misleading 2 say like ROXY: "downstairs" ROXY: in reference to a place which is hells of buried underground and may not actually be literally under the house ROXY: but there is no time to explain all that rn john so instead im going to refer u to my adorable little green friend here CALLIOPE: #U_U# ROXY: (hehe) CALLIOPE: *AHEM* CALLIOPE: hi john! CALLIOPE: long time no see. ^u^

Cherubs just really like dark cavelike places full of weird tech don’t they.

> (==>)

THEY’RE SO CUTE

JOHN: oh, uh. hey callie! JOHN: it sure has been a while huh. JOHN: now that i think about it, the last time the three of us hung out like this... CALLIOPE: was when i was aggressively third wheeling yoUr prenUptial coUrtship? CALLIOPE: if yoU dont mind, john, i'd rather not rehash that period of oUr lives. CALLIOPE: it was more than a little painfUl for me. JOHN: oh. JOHN: god, jeez, i'm sorry. i didn't mean to-- CALLIOPE: hee hee john i am only pUlling yoUr leg, don't worry. CALLIOPE: if anything i was personally a little thrilled with how things shook oUt in that respect. CALLIOPE: imagine, if yoU will, a yoUng cherUb raised in solitUde, whose only solace was the convolUted and tUmUltUoUs romantic schemata she projected onto her only friends from another Universe. CALLIOPE: and then fUrther imagine that this yoUng cherUb, throUgh varioUs even *more* convolUted contrivances, ended Up in the company of those selfsafe friends as an eqUal participant in their sphere of social discoUrse! CALLIOPE: it is a joy the like of which yoU possibly cannot fathom. u_u

Reinforcing that things turning out this way was in fact the FANTASY that Calliope was writing over in the Canon timeline.  Just, heavily, HEAVILY implied that the Candy timeline is -- or at least originated as -- Calliope’s fanfiction as a Muse of Space, and its competition for audience interest with canon is the essential conflict between alt!Calliope and Dirk (or Dirk and Andrew Hussie).

CALLIOPE: so to pUt it simply, getting to experience sUch emotional drama myself was an impossibly enriching experience. CALLIOPE: possibly a first for my species! CALLIOPE: it's actUally qUite interesting, if yoU ROXY: *nudge* CALLIOPE: oh, right. yes. i'm getting a little carried away, haha. CALLIOPE: argh, i'm sorry, this is not how i planned to begin this vital conversation.

Vital conversation?  What sorta truth-bombs are coming?

CALLIOPE: but to sUmmarise, what i was trying to say is: CALLIOPE: don't beat yourself Up aboUt it john. CALLIOPE: besides, hUman divorces are even more fascinating than i had ever imagined, and being able to witness yoUrs in motion was an honoUr. CALLIOPE: so i consider Us aboUt even at this point. JOHN: hahaha!!! JOHN: okay, well that's good to know! CALLIOPE: ^u^

Holy SHIT that was savage!  And we’ll NEVER know whether or not she really intended it so savagely, either.~

JOHN: so um... JOHN: i hear that there's this big secret thing you wanna tell me about? CALLIOPE: oh right, yes of course! CALLIOPE: let me jUst say first of all how thrilled i am that yoU're on board. CALLIOPE: i wasn't sUre if yoUr natUral inclinations woUld have preclUded yoUr coming to such a place as this, and yet here yoU are. CALLIOPE: this whole endeavoUr will be *so* mUch easier with yoUr help.

Uh oh.

Hopefully babies aren’t involved.

JOHN: oh! well, shucks. JOHN: not really sure what that means but i'm just glad to be of use somewhere, haha. JOHN: which, speaking of somewhere, CALLIOPE: ah right, right. yoU're probably a little cUrioUs as to where the dickens we are. CALLIOPE: how much do yoU know aboUt black holes? JOHN: um... like, the big space things? CALLIOPE: they aren't always big actUally, and in fact their relative smallness is practically their defining qUality. JOHN: oh. CALLIOPE: bUt okay i think we are on the same page. CALLIOPE: so, what if i told yoU that we are inside of a black hole right now.

Oh dear, we’re getting into the canon/noncanon divide?

JOHN: um... JOHN: like, HERE? JOHN: we just transportalized into a black hole? CALLIOPE: no, i mean, what if oUr whole WORLD was inside a black hole. JOHN: ok.

Yeah, that’s gonna be John’s reaction.  “ok.”  Pretty much inevitable.

CALLIOPE: earth c, or at least oUr version of it, has, from the moment we crossed the victory threshold, been inside a black hole. JOHN: ok. CALLIOPE: and not just any black hole, bUt the very black hole in which the green sUn Ultimately met its demise, allowing oUr victory in the first instance! JOHN: huh! ROXY: ("huh!") ROXY: (rofl my fucking ao egbert) JOHN: (shhhh!)

And Roxy enjoys his non-reaction reactions as much as we do, hehe.

CALLIOPE: bUt, paradoxically, the critical moment which determined its capture within the black hole happened *after* that point. CALLIOPE: i refer of coUrse to yoUr decision not to retUrn to the mediUm and fight my brother. JOHN: wait, wait. JOHN: you mean, the meat and candy thing? JOHN: oh my god. JOHN: you mean i actually DID make a mistake that day. CALLIOPE: well, that's not exactly what that-- JOHN: ugh, i fucking KNEW it! JOHN: i'm so sorry. JOHN: i'm so sorry that i put the earth inside a black hole everyone. ): ROXY: john ROXY: listen ROXY: u have got to get out of this mindset i am begging you JOHN: ):

Yeah shake him out of this shit.

ROXY: your choice literally didnt matter ROXY: the whole thing was symbolic in the first place ROXY: literally symbolic in the case of the picnic i mean come on ROXY: it was just some steak and a plate of candy suckers JOHN: oh. CALLIOPE: i mean, i wouldn't go so far as to say that the meal we shared was unimportant, given the sacred significance of the two options i presented. CALLIOPE: but yes, yoUr choice of snack was infinitely less important than the choice which it presaged. CALLIOPE: and even then, calling it a choice woUld be sorely misleading. CALLIOPE: think of it like a coin flip. CALLIOPE: the series of events that led to Us being trapped beyond the event horizon of an Ubermassive black hole could be considered "tails", while the events which would have occUrred otherwise could be considered "heads". CALLIOPE: since both were possible, and paradox space is the way it is, they actUally both happened. and we jUst "happened" (hee hee) to get tails instead of heads. JOHN: you mean we ended up with the bad possibility. CALLIOPE: not at all! since both possibilities depend on one another's existence, it really doesn't make sense to call them "right" or "wrong". they both just "are". JOHN: o...kay... CALLIOPE: u_u

Yeah, it’s going to take a bit more than that to convince him he didn’t make the “wrong decision”.

CALLIOPE: i realise that this may be a lot to process. CALLIOPE: it's easy to forget that this wasn't obvioUs to everyone from the beginning. CALLIOPE: anyway, the reason i went on this tangent in the first place was to explain that the space we are standing in right now has a special significance, in that it is the location which corresponds to the black hole's singUlarity. JOHN: oh, wow. JOHN: um. JOHN: ok so, sorry if this is a dumb question to ask suddenly, but what does being inside of a black hole actually... mean for us? JOHN: is that bad? JOHN: is it like in movie, um, JOHN: shoot. JOHN: roxy what was that matthew mcconaughey movie from your earth that we watched? ROXY: u mean interstellar JOHN: RIGHT. JOHN: the one with the organ. JOHN: man. i cried at that movie so much. ROXY: lol u can say that again ROXY: iirc at least part of y u got so weepy was the fact that u couldnt believe a version of earth existed where ppl got 2 watch more mcconaughey films than you JOHN: listen. JOHN: i simply don't think you all appreciated the gift you were given. CALLIOPE: i don't believe i'm familiar with this particular film ^u^;; ROXY: oh dont worry cal you didnt miss much JOHN: (gasp)

This is all gold

ROXY: but the important point is that no its not really an interstellar type situation here egbert ROXY: ur not gonna enter a weird time vortex and change the trajectory of a little girls life with the power of love JOHN: aw.

Dammit, now we have to be on the lookout for that possibility.  Or it did sort of already happen more than once to John.  ...Whatever.

CALLIOPE: to go back to your original question, john. CALLIOPE: it's not strictly speaking "bad" for Us to be inside of a black hole, mUch thoUgh that contradicts most of what anyone knows about them. CALLIOPE: of coUrse, if we had fallen into it, that woUld be a whole other kettle of fish. CALLIOPE: the tidal forces woUld have stretched Us all into spaghetti and then ripped us apart! CALLIOPE: bUt the natUre of oUr arrival was more akin to simply "being" here, sUddenly. one moment we were not, and the next moment we were, and somehow always had been. CALLIOPE: in everyday, practical terms, being inside of a black hole has very little bearing on Us. CALLIOPE: i mean, the natUre of space and time is a little finicky in here, bUt for the most part it doesn't seem to be anything too oUt of the ordinary. CALLIOPE: bUt beyond that, it means that we are sealed away from the rest of existence. CALLIOPE: oUr sphere of inflUence is limited to the sphere of the black hole's bounding horizon. CALLIOPE: as far as everyone else is concerned, we might as well not even exist! JOHN: is there no way we could let anyone know that we're in here...? CALLIOPE: almost certainly not!

No?  So this doesn’t have to do with the divide?

CALLIOPE: there are very few ways for anything to escape the kind of predicament that we are in right now. one of them is to be an all-powerfUl being with control over the very fabric of space, with the energy of two Universes at yoUr disposal. CALLIOPE: in which case, escape woUld become rather trivial, if a little Unscientific. JOHN: ok. i am going to assume that we can't just do that. CALLIOPE: yoU've hit the nail on the head, UnfortUnately. U_U CALLIOPE: the method i described was the one employed by my alternate self, who yoU may recall crashed through the event horizon in the body that once belonged to jade harley. CALLIOPE: she departed through a pUnctUre she created in the black hole's surface shortly after consUming my brother, a deed which provided her with the necessary "oomph", and which was frankly rather breathtaking to watch. =u= CALLIOPE: bUt Upon her departUre, the rift closed for good. as far as i can see, there's simply no way for Us to commUnicate with the world oUtside the black hole.

What the heck?  Calliope SAW all this?  Is this her Muse powers at work, letting her observe these things, or was she there?  And John certainly did NOT see ANY of what Calliope just said happen.

CALLIOPE: i woUld certainly be very sUrprised to find oUt that anyone had managed sUch a thing!

So we’re going to find that out if we haven’t already.  Maybe something to do with the way Vrissy just conks out narcoleptically?

JOHN: ...right. JOHN: so... let me just get this straight. JOHN: knowing that we're inside of a black hole... does that actually change anything? JOHN: like, can't we just go on living like normal? CALLIOPE: oh absolUtely not. CALLIOPE: i don't know if yoU've noticed john bUt this world is on the brink of a total cataclysm. JOHN: oh.

Um, what?

CALLIOPE: oUr exclUsion from the overarching coUrse of events which governs all reality means that oUr existence here is liable to dramatic and violent Upheaval. CALLIOPE: to pUt it another way, becaUse nothing in here "matters", we are likely to be sUbjected to things which are a bit bats in the belfry, for no reason other than it's totally insignificant to the wider canon of reality. CALLIOPE: and mUch thoUgh i am personally titillated by some of the conseqUences of this predicament, it is a degrading way for Us to live. u_u JOHN: that's... certainly one way to put it, yeah...

No plot-armor for your entire timeline, I guess, yep.  Outside of canon, we can imagine and write about ANYTHING happening to the characters, or just drop their existence entirely, much like a doomed offshoot timeline.  It’s a plot stability that depended heavily on the threat of Lord English and being trapped in a story, and without it things are bound to see a BIT chaotic (or “degrading” if you view it as subjected to the whims of fanfic writers, certainly).

CALLIOPE: at first, i believed that this was simply necessary. Us playing tails to oUr coUnterparts' heads, the black to their white, and so forth. CALLIOPE: bUt over the years i have come to the conclUsion that this is simply not kosher. ROXY: its total bs is what it is CALLIOPE: right, yes. CALLIOPE: a steaming pile of bUllshite. CALLIOPE: and so we have decided that something needs to be done aboUt it.

Ah fuck.  You’re going to regulate non-canon?  “Canonize” it?  Is the fact that you eventually succeed at whatever it is you’re trying to do part of why we have the story presented to us in this bifurcated structure?

ROXY: this is finally where u come in jegbert ROXY: we gots quests for yous CALLIOPE: hee hee, yes. CALLIOPE: or *a* quest, to be specific. JOHN: oh boy! ROXY: (this fkin nerd i s2g)

Roxy and Calliope setting him on this quest as a Rogue of Void and a Muse of Space feels fitting.

JOHN: i'm not sure how i can go about freeing us from a hellish space prison, but i'm up for giving it a try i guess? JOHN: i have... literally nothing better to be doing at this point. except for maybe hanging out with harry anderson. ROXY: nice save lol

YEAH WE’RE STILL GLOSSING OVER HOW YOU LEFT HIM UNPROTECTED, JERK

ROXY: but u dont need to worry abt busting us outta space jail tbh ROXY: thats not ur problem to fix JOHN: oh. JOHN: i'm... not sure i follow, then. ROXY: i mean yeah ur gonna obvs facilitate it in a sense ROXY: but only by going and busting the person who can actually help us outta normal earth jail CALLIOPE: we need yoU to free vriska from the clUtches of oUr misgUided friend jane, and bring her here, to the singUlarity. ROXY: weve been calling it the plot point CALLIOPE: yes, the plot point is a key part of oUr plan. CALLIOPE: as far as we have been able to sUrmise, the only remaining method for escaping oUr grim confinement depends on leveraging the UniqUe properties of this location to create an event of sUch catalcysmic proportions that it simply cannot be contained within the black hole any more. CALLIOPE: something SO dramatic, so hyper-relevant, that it becomes ontologically impossible for anyone to ignore it. CALLIOPE: for that, we need an individUal of sUfficient narrative cloUt, so to speak. CALLIOPE: and to liberate her, who better than the embodiment of the aspect of freedom itself? CALLIOPE: ... CALLIOPE: phew. okay, i'm finished. CALLIOPE: CALLIOPE: sorry, that took longer than i expected to go throUgh.

..............................

OOooooh, kay.

Whatever this is, it’s going to be really weird and PROBABLY infuriating and/or shippy, and I’m probably not going to like it.  Plus it seems like it’s some sort of inverse belated canonization of some other black-hole-rescue theories I went on about at some point.  Although, related to that link, “aspect of freedom” if anyone wasn’t paying attention!  That’s a (sorta-)canon mention of the purpose of it!

They’re going to attention-wh-- attention-hog themselves out of the black hole so that they’re “considered canon” too, or close enough.  Huh.

ROXY: what r u talking about cals that was great ROXY: i could listen 2 u plotsplain for years CALLIOPE: oh you >u< ROXY: fyi this was why i wanted u to get a move on eggbread ROXY: so callie could have more time 2 infodump ROXY: thats love bitchhhhhh JOHN: hahaha. JOHN: ok, well, i think i understood all that?

Love with who? Callie, John, both?

In reality, John isn’t sure what most of this means. But on balance, it feels okay? He’s gone back and forth about a hundred times in the last week about where his place in everything is, so he might as well ride this out. Plus, the last time a Lalonde kind of told him to do something, he thinks that he chose not to, and look where that got him. And it’s not like he has other plans. He may as well do this! It’s at least going to get him involved in things again, if nothing else. He turns to go, and then hears a sound. It’s the sound of feet and knocking on doors, echoed through stone and digital static.

Oh shit.  Is Andrew trapped behind some fourth walls behind the curtains.

> (==>)

Oh RIGHT also that DEVICE is where they want to bring Vriska.  Are they going to overturn part of canon itself with a super-retcon thus making this timeline unbelievably relevant or--?  Maybe make all the PESTERQUESTS canon or something?!  I don’t know.  Maybe they’re INTENTIONALLY starting the game like Vriska wanted to??????

Guh, this is something so big that I don’t WANT to theorize about it, do I.

JOHN: did you hear that? ROXY: wha ROXY: oh yeah uh ROXY: i may have messaged rose and kan and jade to check on them too ROXY: so its prob onea them showin up ROXY: they don’t need to know bout all this tho ROXY: we got time to chat with them b4 u go get vriska

No, even if it’s a knock at the somehow-top-level-house-even-under-buried-- oh, right, maybe it’s covering in part a monitoring system that looks up there.  But still, part of that sound was DOUBTLESS these two hiding something, all standing in front of the curtain like that.

JOHN: i’ll go stall em. ROXY: thx babe ROXY: oh is it 2 soon for that joke or JOHN: no, weirdly enough, that one’s fine. ROXY: oh good ok see u up there soon!

How is calling your significant other “babe” not cool REGARDLESS of gender?!  Like wasn’t that always cool? --Oh wait is it because they’re not together or... but... guh, I don’t know.

Anyway, see y’all after the holidays at least.

[hyphypmic]

Poly!Fling Posse/OC Comfort Fic

Hi hi!!! This is a commissioned work for @edgar-selfships​ ! Thank you for supporting! This is their OC Edgar! Read below the line!

TW: Abuse, Mentions of Abuse

--

Edgar was already having a pretty rough day. It was bad enough that the test scores they got back were barely passing, their parents called in the middle of that class. It certainly wasn’t about any grades, but it was a drunk call from their mother. Yes, a drunk call at around 4:00PM.

Their family’s alcoholism problem started as far as they could remember. Since they were an only child, all the anger was released on them, if not on each other. Mom’s favorite thing to do was get out the hanger and spank Edgar for the sake of it. Dad’s favorite was simply making them do all the demeaning tasks... then if not done correctly, they will be burned with a cigarette butt.

They were thankful to Jakurai Jinguji, leader of the Shinjuku division, for helping them out of it. Jakurai even went so far as to becoming Edgar’s legal guardian when they turned eighteen. By that time, the biological parents would not have anything to hold over Edgar aside from emotions and abuse. They were able to leave the house of hell and stay with the doctor.

However, even if the doctor is an intimidating man himself, the biological parents won’t leave them alone. Jakurai would answer the phone and leave a mild threat, but alcohol simply numbs the senses to fear. The parents wouldn’t stop.

Jakurai suggested Edgar to block the number, but they knew it was pointless. The parents would not stop. An example of which was that day, the phone call.

The call wasn’t much beyond the usual “you’re useless,” or the misgendering and use of the wrong pronouns, but it did really do a number on them. Edgar had a shitty day, this was the cherry on top. It wasn’t that they weren’t used to the calls and the harassment, it was just completely unnecessary on an already shitty day.

How’s my favorite useless daughter doing? Their mom laughed from the other end of the line. Still messing around with that division?”

Edgar bit their lip. “I’m not your daughter.” They hated it when their parents still referred to him as their “daughter” or even jokingly as their “son.” What’s so difficult to understand about being neither?

No one has the fucking time to say “they” and it’s fucking confusing. Pick a gender and stick to it. Fucking hell.

“Why are you calling, mom?” Edgar cut to the point. They didn’t want to notice the discrimination. They somewhat became numb to it, only that the numbness extended to their heart and usually after that they wouldn’t feel anything...

I was wondering if I could pick you up. Their mother laughed. I miss my favorite pushover. Didn’t we have fun? There was a crash in the background. Ah shit. Fuck. If you were here you’d have cleaned it up like a good girl hm?

Edgar heard their father speak in the background.

Yeah it is our daughter. The mom chuckled again. Your father is asking when will you get your ass back here.

Edgar balled their fist. “Never, mom.”

Hmm. What if we came there ourselves?

“Do you even know where I am right now?”

Hmm. Maybe not at the Jakurai’s house? Probably at school. I’ll go get you myself.

It went on like that for a while, Edgar’s heart sinking every sentence their mom would say. Every single word felt like a stab wound to the heart. Their eyes prickled, but they quickly rubbed the tears away. It would be a lot worse if someone saw them crying. They didn’t want to have to explain what was going on.

Then again, it wasn’t like anyone really cared about them... they shook their head. No. That was Edgar’s mother talking. They knew someone cared about them and fucking loved them for who they are.

Edgar ignored their mother’s comment that she would pick them up from University (mostly because their mother named their high school and not their current college) and simply hung up the phone. They wiped their eyes again and pocketed the phone aggressively. Why couldn’t their parents just leave them alone?

They didn’t even bother finishing the class. Edgar shouldered their bag and walked out of the building. They were wiping away the tears that formed at the corners of their dark eyes. Why did their mom have to call? Just why? It wasn’t fair to them at all. Edgar didn’t need them and they didn’t need Edgar for anything either than a servant or a punching bag. Why the fuck did they even have kids?

Jakurai once told Edgar that their parents don’t define them. He also said that Edgar was one of the sweetest people he has ever met, and it’s incredible that Edgar turned out so wonderfully despite the environment at home. The parents probably had kids because it was unplanned and they couldn’t have an abortion. That would explain the lack of... well, everything.

Edgar was debating whether to go home or to text Jakurai that they would be heading home late because they would sulk around campus when their phone vibrated. Edgar checked the message and smiled. It was a text from Gentaro. Edgar must have been so down that they forgot about their boyfriends. They felt a twang of guilt, but tried to push it down, they were feeling down. Jakurai thought them to cut themselves some slack, even when it was hard.

I’m writing in the café near your university. Want to come after your class? Dice and Ramuda are following. Edgar read the text in Gentaro’s voice. They could imagine Gentaro’s brown hair and sparkling eyes. They could also imagine Gentaro’s massive eyebags from writing all night. They missed him, and naturally the rest of Fling Posse. This kind of thing was very welcome, regardless of the amount of work they had to do when they would get back home to Jakurai.

Edgar typed out a quick reply. Wouldn’t it have been more efficient if you texted the group chat? I mean, if all three of you did. Edgar did feel bad, but that didn’t stop them from pretending they were fine, at least for the moment. I miss you. They typed out, but quickly deleted it. Efficiency is key, you said. Edgar typed instead.

Edgar’s phone buzzed. Well. Aren’t you using big words. Classes must be going well for you. I’m thankful Dice’s grammar hasn’t completely rubbed off on you.

They sighed, knowing very well that classes were not going well at all. Maybe they were doing bad because of their parents? They didn’t really know. Stop bullying him!!! He don’t deserve it >.<

Nyaaaaaaa~ And it’s doesn’t not don’t. Is Dice really rubbing off on you?

Gentaro!!!

I was dating him first before you came along. I have special rights. Besides, he isn’t here.

Still! :PPP

They could imagine Gentaro’s laugh. See you here, darling. Take care.

Edgar managed a smile, sometimes being in a relationship with Fling Posse had its perks, especially when the week (month?) was awful. They sent a quick text to Jakurai saying that they’d be with Fling Posse for a bit and they hurried to the café.

—

Gentaro wasn’t expecting to see Edgar with red eyes. He also wasn’t expecting to see his significant other twenty minutes before their class was supposed to end. Edgar made their way past the tables, head bowed and practically slumped in the seat next to Gentaro. Even sad, Edgar looked amazing. Their dark eyes went wonderfully with their blonde hair. Their usual blue striped button down complemented the dark ripped jeans. It showed off their figure perfectly. Gentaro was honestly in awe that such a beautiful person (actually, all of Fling Posse actually) would date him.

But nonetheless, that wasn’t the priority at the moment.

“Is something wrong?” Gentaro asked, gently wrapping an arm around Edgar, his traditional kimono serving as somewhat a little blanket for Edgar. As quick as Gentaro’s tongue might be, he wasn’t so insensitive that he would make fun of them for having red eyes. “Are you okay, darling?”

They shook their head, but leaned on Gentaro nonetheless. That was a sure sign that Edgar didn’t want to elaborate just yet. “Can we wait for the others?” They sighed. “I don’t want to have to repeat it.”

Gentaro nodded. “Tough day, darling?” He scooted closer, knowing that they wanted comfort.

Edgar’s eyes warmed at the endearments, while Gentaro’s heart melted a little. Beautiful. He thought. Gentaro simply loved it when they looked at him like that. “Yeah.” They looked at Gentaro’s laptop. “What are you writing?”

Gentaro indulged them, knowing that they wanted a distraction from what happened or just a reason to laugh. “Ah, nothing your brain can handle.” Gentaro poked and nudged them a

little, removing his arm from their shoulders. “It takes a great understanding to be able to handle what I am writing here.”

Edgar managed a small smile. They pointed to a paragraph. “That quite literally says: ‘insert some shit about a hero saving blah blah blah and shit happens then it hits the fan fuckin yay’” Edgar paused. “You sure you didn’t scam those people to give you those awards?”

“That sentence is one of the finest to ever be constructed, thank you very much.” Gentaro gave a gentle flick to Edgar’s nose.

“Ow!” Edgar pouted.

Gentaro laughed and gave Edgar a gentle kiss on the nose. “I’ll order us some tea.”

Edgar blushed at the affection, the blush earning a smile from the writer. The writer called the waiter and ordered his and their favorite tea.

—

Around thirty or forty minutes and two cups of tea later, Dice and Ramuda came in the café.

“Oi Gentaro.” Dice said, sitting down gracelessly in the chair in front of Edgar. “Did you get food?” He brushed his long blue hair out of his face. “Food?”

“I’m in a café, idiot.” Gentaro said, not even looking up from his writing. “Of course I ordered food.” He sighed. “Edgar insisted on getting extra servings for you.” He raised an eyebrow, still looking at his laptop and typing away. “Happy?”

Dice wrinkled his nose. “Damn. With that kind of tone it’s a wonder that I haven’t killed you.”

“You find me too attractive to kill.” Gentaro looked up from his work. “Right? Even barbarians and neanderthals know beauty.” Gentaro made a monkey-like expression, pushing his lip out and furrowing his eyebrows. “Pretty!” He said in a gruff voice. “Pretty. Do not kill! Ooga.”

“Why you little—“ Dice leaned forward as if getting ready to fight.

Ramuda giggled at the rebuttal, his pink hair in its usual hairstyle. Edgar noticed absent-mindedly that Ramuda was wearing a new set of little star earrings. “Hihi~ It is lovely to see the two of you argue. Makes me laugh.” He poked Dice and the gambler flinched, almost falling off the chair. Ramuda only laughed and poked him again. “Daisu!” Ramuda whispered with every poke. “Daisu, Daisu, Daisu!”

“The fuck is that for?!” Dice said loudly, earning a few glares from other customers... and some curious looks.

“Hey.” Edgar hushed the gambler. “Don’t call attention. You’re not exactly unpopular you know?” Dice had the decency to look sheepish. “Fling Posse is popular everywhere!” Edgar whispered. “You all aren’t exactly discrete when it comes to your styles.”

“Don’t be dumb, Dice.” Gentaro smirked. “Hmm. Maybe that’s why we’re Ramuda, Gentaro and baka—“

Edgar swatted Gentaro. “Hey.” They wrinkled their nose again at Dice. “What did I say about bullying?”

Gentaro only ruffled Edgar’s hair. “You’re cute, but like I said, special privileges as the first boyfriend.”

Dice leaned back. “Hmp.” He waved a hand dismissively. “Doesn’t stop people from ignoring me when I sleep on the street.”

“Hihi~ Maybe that’s why they ignore you Daisuuu~” Ramuda teased, poking the gambler in the ribs some more. “You smell awful!”

Dice groaned and tried to swat Ramuda away, but the smaller man was relentless.

Edgar managed a small laugh only, not able to muster the full one they usually have when Ramuda makes a joke. Even if they were able to banter, a laugh was something else entirely.

Ramuda picked up on that, missing Edgar’s happy laugh. “Is something wrong?” He asked, tilting his head to the side. He knelt on the chair and reached over to hold Edgar’s hand. “Did something happen at school?” He paused. “Wait what time did you get here?” Concern filled Ramuda’s bright blue eyes.

“I got here early, Ramuda.” Edgar said, their earlier happy mood simmering down. Their heart started racing and a hint of numbness went to their fingers.

“You didn’t finish class?” Dice asked softly, sounding concerned as well.

“I didn’t do well on some tests.” Edgar mumbled, playing with Ramuda’s small hand, forcing the slight numbness to go away. “And uh... my... mother.”

The three of them tensed, even Gentaro stopped writing to listen.

“She called.” Edgar finished, sighing. “It wasn’t... it wasn’t nice.”

Gentaro closed his laptop. “Do you want to tell us about it, darling?”

Edgar closed their eyes, took a deep breath and told them what happened during the call. They were biting their lip in some parts, just so that they won’t cry.

Truth be told, it wasn’t just about the call. Edgar poured out some of the bitterness they have been harboring in their heart for a long time. The whole week, it was just difficult. The academics were piled up and their parents wouldn’t stop texting them. The fact that their mother called, that was enough to put them in a slump for a while.

“She always texts me.... And while I know that she doesn’t know where I am and she wouldn’t dare go to Jakurai’s residence... I just hate it. It’s the old fear coming back and it’s been really bad this week because of the load some of my professors are giving me and all of that stuff.” Edgar sniffed. “I don’t like this at all. It’s just been really difficult to deal with lately. I... I’m sorry.”

Gentaro wrapped an arm around their shoulder. “Thank you for sharing.” He wiped away a stray tear that Edgar didn’t notice. “And don’t apologise. We’re here for you.”

Ramuda sighed and kissed Edgar’s hand, the one he’d been holding the whole time while they were talking. “I would offer to take care of them.” Ramuda said, his tone uncharacteristically serious. “However...” Ramuda reached over and cupped Edgar’s cheeks (the sudden motion almost making Dice fall off the chair again. “You told us that you can do it.” Ramuda smiled and squished Edgar’s face a little. “I believe in you! That’s why we love you, Edgar.”

Dice growled and Ramuda reluctantly went back to his chair, patting the gambler on the head for good measure.

“Well.” Dice leaned back and crossed his arms. He scratched the back of his head. “M not exactly good with words.” He paused. “But uh... you know how my mom’s Otome right? Not the best role model for a caring mother.” He leaned forward, fidgeting. “I just want you to know that,” He took a breath. “I admire your strength. It takes big fucking courage to do what you do everyday.” He laughed. “Take it from a homeless guy.”

“Why Dice,” Gentaro smiled, “that’s the most eloquent I have seen you. Have you been reading my books? Oh wait.” Gentaro smiled. “You can’t read.”

Edgar swatted Gentaro on the shoulder, only earning a chuckle from the writer and a pout from Dice.

Gentaro turned Edgar’s face to him. “Like what the idiot said, you have great strength. We are proud of you for facing your own battles and for staying happy. You even have the strength to deal with the three of us all at once. That’s why we love being with you, Edgar.” Gentaro kissed Edgar’s forehead. “We love the light you bring despite what you have experienced. You are strong.”

At that, Edgar finally really teared up and buried themselves in Gentaro’s embrace. Dice then went over and joined the other side, hugging Edgar. They never felt so safe. They were also glad that they had a group to support on and love them for who they are. The moment they came into Fling Posse’s lives, they knew it was for the better. Edgar enjoyed the warmth of the hug and felt peace in their heart.

Ramuda simply smiled and raised his arms. “Yay! Edgar’s better!”

As if on cue, the food arrived, just a bunch of deserts and little sandwiches. Naturally, there was more than enough, mostly because it was Dice who was extremely hungry 24/7.

“Yay!” Ramuda cheered again and clapped, thanking the waiter with a big smile. “Sweets!” He popped the lollipop stick out of his mouth and picked up a spoon. “Don’t make me feed you Edgar!” He waved a spoon at them. “Eat up or I’ll eat your food!”

Dice removed himself from the group hug. “Oi. Don’t you go eating my food either!”

Ramuda stuck out his tongue. “You can’t make me.”

Dice immediately grabbed the second biggest ice cream parfait, the biggest going to Edgar.

Gentaro simply took a sandwich and continued writing. He did though squeeze Edgar’s hand before returning to his writing.

Edgar took the ice cream parfait from Dice and dug in, feeling warmth in their heart. They simply marveled at the fact that the division was with them and they couldn’t possibly imagine a place where they would feel more loved.

“Thanks guys.” Edgar said, spooning their ice cream.

Ramuda smiled. “Anything for you!!!!” He grabbed a cupcake and began biting into it cutely, like he always does. “Yummy!”

Dice simply smiled and continued his feast, already reaching for the next dish. Who knew someone could eat in a cafe as if it was an all you can eat buffet? Gentaro was silent, absorbed in his writing, but Edgar knew that that he was paying attention, the little leg nudge said everything they needed to hear.

Edgar smiled at them again and began to eat, the sadness they felt earlier no longer significant. They weren’t perfectly happy, but they were happy to get to that point with Fling Posse.

[achaosfilledworld]

mod walrus.

pleasure to meet you all, my main blog would be @cathedralrefuge (but i mainly use @imagine-the-walrus). i do go by some names, like... walri, or... waws (kou's nickname for me HAHA), or kenway (silver's nickname for me). and no i will not include the canon characters ^^;

basically, i write and draw a lot, so nothing distinctly special about me, just an old artist/writer hag.

anywho, it's time for me to bring you to the character introductions!

the DnD chat:

Nathala – a Tiefling Bard who actively does not perform in taverns (due to her bad reputation... of starting bar fights) and doesn't get paid for her songs—but for her... “contracts” (a.k.a, she kills for money, putting her bard and sword-fighting skills to the test). Has a tall beautiful elf girlfriend named Elyscia :>, and she also takes care of Connor!... (Though, she would need to protect them both a lot more now. wink wonk). Is against the Seven Deadly Sins (especially Greed—we will come to that) due to her mother's involvement with them (accidentally inhaled Greed's venom during a fight and died in her bed).

Elizabeth White – AAAaaa aa A. Half-Elf Rogue! (she's actually an assassin's creed oc sheesh) After the murder of Christian Raynott she doesn't have a permanent home and so she sets up camp anywhere as long as it's far enough from the manor she ran away from (...well she burnt it down, but repairs are being made), is now trying to find a way to get back at the Seven Deadly Sins squad (that's what she calls them) alongside Hypno, Illusion, Beep (she's just taking care of him), and of course, taco man (...Haytham.)

Tsarra – ew disgusting. She's an antagonistic character, the leading Elf Sorceress in the Seven Deadly Sins (the Pride). Ever since Beth killed Christian Raynott she and the other Seven Deadly Sins sought to either beat her up (well, that she accomplished) but then later decided to fully kill her, as merely beating the shit out of her did not satisfy her thirst for revenge. Overall, she's a bitch.

Sylthyra – another disgusting vermin (hah!), she is the Greed listed in previous names. She is another Elf Sorceress that can shapeshift to a King Cobra—but now she has a gauntlet strapped to her forearm that allows her venom-infused blood to shoot out. She's bloody dangerous, and she will kill Nathala on sight should they ever cross paths (have I mentioned how strikingly similar she is to her own mother?).

Sudar – the Lust in the Seven Deadly Sins. Lusting for power most especially, he was the one who made Tsarra realise she had made a grave mistake of sparing Beth right after the nearly-fatal beating and instead should kill her right there and then—but slowly and definitely painfully (and to add insult to injury to burn her).

Baby Myrmi – a baby Myrmidon (...creatures I made up for a realm, hehe... I'll post about them in the future) that integrated with humanoid species for too much that he now can speak words. Favourite fruit is GRAPB (grape) and loves BIG and FIBBY (fluffy) and PIBBY (pretty).

the Earth chat:

Earth!Kenway – a killer with a cause who hopes her son, Beep, would be able to choose what he is able to do, not what she does. Regrets her killings the first ten lives she took, and she painfully admits that she started to grow used to herself being the sole cause of many lives dead, by her own blade and hand. Is now looking for a very important diamond which first started as a simple treasure hunt and now a race against time.

Earth!Alex – the Vulture. Has killed much more than his cousin, Kenway. Has mommy issues (:'>) and often sees visions of the corpses that were mutilated by him and he still didn't realise that was caused by his demons that only overtakes him by said visions. Doesn't feel emotions that much and evidently hates it because once he did feel something, he doesn't know what it is even though he is very intelligent for his age. Well... he has a strained relationship with Lilian, his mother, after finding out that he wasn't her biological son and that she wasn't able to save him. Well, now he's a double agent, and of course Lilian doesn't know that he's helping his cousin and her merry band of Assassins.

Earth!Lilian – a struggling mother from the Order who failed his son and now is trying to help Hypno, and slowly starts to see Kenway as not a manifestation of her own issues but only a mere representation of her mother. Has severe stress due to her conflicting views and her hidden desire to resist against the Order just to protect Hypno. A higher-up due to her intelligence and quick-thinking.

Milaeth – basically, a Sorceress from said realm—Mivuris (from the Buvalon Kingdom). Takes care of Silver and teaches him everything she knows that Earth would share some materials with Mivuris. Plans to teach him to craft an extremely lethal potion that would disintegrate your fingers upon touching it, all in good time.

Adult Myrmi – YEP YEP YOU FUCKIN GUESSED IT. GROWN UP BITCH!!! This time this BIG man is THE war general in MIVURIS! In the Öuryia Kingdom!!! Beheaded the Ekredian War General during a war and that was how he was granted this position. Now on Earth for... reasons

Jennifer Flores – a CIA Agent with ties to both Kenway and Alex, aiding the both of them for the said powerful diamond with weapons-dealing, covert tactics strategies and such. Hardened by battles she fought, there is a reason on why she always wears fingerless gloves.

Hyelius – The Mother of Gods. Ekredian Empress Goddess, may she cleanse your soul from its wrongdoings. May she save you all with her Crescent Moon and Spherical Sun interlocked with one another, living as mere murals behind her. Do not test her patience even though she is generally warm, for her fury is unmatched to a thousand fuming suns.

Mycelia – lol ghost edgy kpop man. But in all seriousness, he drags deserving souls to Hell. The Wrath of the Ember's Chains, he is unforgiving towards those who had committed wrong and is now carrying out said tasks to horrible and cruel criminals that the Eternal Damnation should hold—the Perdition.

the Space chat:

Kenway – think paranoia and killer instinct mixed into one person. That is her. Ran to the ship to escape from the Order, with Alex's help. Went through Hell and back, Kenway stresses more when she started to take care of Beep along with a parasite that gave her new abilities but there are drawbacks, negatives to positives.

Alex – same as the earth tbh lol. But the relationship between him and Lilian are further strained.

Lilian – afraid of failing her daughter as she did Alex, again a struggling mother who questions her allegiance to the Order as she takes care of Hypno.

[ohnomybreadsticks]

Apologies anon, this is many days late and many hours later than I should be up! XD This prompt was rad as hell but stumped me for a bit cause I couldn’t figure out if it should be a comedy or a drama! I’ve gone the comedy route with just a hint of drama, so I hope you enjoy <3 This will also be up on AO3! Also a special shoutout to @connorssock​ for helping me bounce around ideas for this and giving me inspiration as always :D

Rating: T, ~1.1K, “Shovel Talk”

There were many strange things about this situation, Nines thought to himself, it was definitely one of those days where life had decided to just pile it on. Where to begin? Was it perhaps the fact that he was talking to Elijah Kamski, the founder of Cyberlife and creator of androids? Was it the fact that Elijah was apparently the half brother of Nines’ partner and now boyfriend Gavin Reed? Or was it the fact that he was giving Nines what he had colloquially referred to as a ‘shovel talk’?

According to the Urban Dictionary entry that Nines had pulled up for reference, a shovel talk was apparently “The "If you hurt him/her I will break you" talk given as a warning to a romantic partner from a concerned party, usually family or a close friend.” Sometimes the complexities of human culture were just too much for Nines, and he had taken to just looking things up rather than asking Gavin. The internet was just as likely to lie to him as his boyfriend was, a fact which Gavin would deny to no end but still snicker about despite this.

Elijah looked terribly serious about this whole business, and Nines did his best to refocus his attention back onto him. He found it difficult to focus on simple tasks some days just because information about Gavin was taking up space in his processors. He was in love, after all, so that was excusable in his opinion. Fowler hadn’t agreed, but as Gavin liked to say, ‘fuck the police’. Ignoring the fact that they were all police and Fowler was their boss, of course.

Okay, focus. Nines needed to focus. Elijah had stopped and was looking up at him expectantly. Nines replayed the last little bit of the conversation and replied appropriately. “I understand your concern, Mr. Kamski, but I can promise you I don’t pose a threat to the public. My combat abilities are kept under strict protocols so that I do not lose control during a chase or a conflict.”

Elijah’s brow furrowed and he stared up at Nines through his glasses with an even more annoyed and serious look (if that was possible). “I’m not worried about the public, or about your job. I’m worried about my brother.” He said, crossing his arms, “And you clearly haven’t been paying attention. You had that blank polite smile that Chloe always gets when she’s pretending to listen to me but is actually live chatting with her girlfriend.” 

Nines supposed he should have expected this level of android knowledge from Mr. Elijah Kamski himself, but he still felt a shock of embarrassment at being called out like that. Shooting him what he hoped was an apologetic smile, Nines tried to recover his wits to formulate an appropriate answer. The question itself was puzzling, and when he did speak it was slowly, choosing each word carefully.

“I would never hurt Gavin, Mr. Kamski. Absolutely not. I can’t even pre-construct a scenario in which that might happen.”

A lie, Nines often envisioned scenarios in which he hurt Gavin, but those were in order to reassure himself that they would never become reality. To test his safeguards and ensure that they were firmly in place. It was what a huge part of his processing power went towards, but Elijah Kamski didn’t need to know that. All he needed to know was the outcome of that process, which was that he was absolutely certain he would never ever hurt Gavin.

“I see.” Elijah said, arms crossed, eyebrows furrowed, clearly still skeptical, “Well rest assured that I will be monitoring the situation closely. And if you ever so much as make him cry…” He mimed a rather aggressive gesture with his thumb, indicating quite a bit of violence that wouldn’t actually harm an android. Although that didn’t stop Nines from shivering - this was the inventor of androids after all, maybe he knew something secret. 

Nines still hadn’t gotten over the strangeness of the situation by the time he got back to Gavin’s apartment for date night - the conversation played over and over in his processors. What was the point of a shovel talk, really? Was it to intimidate him? To show that Elijah cared about his brother? Wouldn’t that have been better accomplished by congratulating the both of them on their new relationship and wishing them the best? It was all very complicated, and it was at times like this that Nines again had to admit he very much didn’t understand human customs. 

When Gavin busted into the apartment several minutes later he was annoyed and grumbling to himself, not unlike a cat that has been told it can’t get up on the counter and is now making a lot of noise to express its displeasure. When he saw Nines he immediately stalked over and wrapped him in a tight hug, head falling onto the android’s chest. The sensation was enough to have Nines’ pump regulator skipping in excitement.

“What’s this for?” Nines asked with a smile, returning the hug happily, “Not that I mind this new form of greeting.”

“My stupid fucking brother” Gavin grumbled, not bothering to lift his head and instead counting on Nines’ enhanced hearing to pick up on his words, “He went and threatened you, right? With a bunch of dumb bullshit? He came and tried that shit with me too, and I had some choice fuckin words for him.” Seeing no point in lying, Nines confirmed that yes, Elijah had given him the shovel talk, and no, he also didn’t see why this had to happen. Gavin grumbled something incoherent and finally lifted his head, his own worry showing through in the way he bit lightly at his lip.

“Sorry, I hope he didn’t upset you too much…” Gavin muttered, eyes flicking up to meet Nines’ then falling back away.

Nines shook his head, and he honestly couldn’t say it had bothered him too much. Confused him, yes, but it was hard to care about what other people said when he had Gavin here in his arms.

“You have nothing to apologize for.” Nines soothed, “It’s nice, after all, to know that other people think of us as a couple. Because if he didn’t think we were going to stay together, why would he put in all this effort?” 

That managed to pull a smile out of Gavin, his mouth slowly quirking up at the edges as he stood up on tip toes and pressed a kiss to Nines’ lips.

“You always pick up on the best things babe” He said, and Nines was inclined to agree. After all, he was the one who had nabbed Gavin Reed as a boyfriend.

[bellytan-softyeondan]

For My Growing Boys out there...

What do I want to do to you? Well it's simple really. Just so many things at once, I can't seem to choose.

It starts like this, I walk in to hear you whining because of how hungry you are, just yearning for that tummy to be filled to the brim with lots of yummy food; swollen and tight as a drum. I won't leave you to get there by yourself of course. Of course I'll help you. I'll feed you as much as you can handle until you're absolutely stuffed baby. And while you're eating, I'll rub your tummy and tell you how proud I am of you. I'll cheer you on, baby. My good boy. If your pants get too tight. I will gladly unbutton them for you to allow your tummy more room. After you've eaten good, I'll rub your tummy some more. I know you ate a lot so it should be soothing for you. But you did so well for me sweetie. My good boy. So soft just for me.

~~~

(Or for those who like a little dirty talk)

What do I want to do to you? Well it's simple really. Just so many things at once, I can't seem to choose.

I bet you're hungry. Gosh you're always hungry my little piggy. You just can't stop eating can you? You're looking kinda big there, you can't even fit pants that fit you weeks ago. They're just so tight around you now. Careful, one wrong move and you'll pop a button, fatty. But you would like that wouldn't you? I know I would. Nothing's fitting like it should. Maybe you should go on a diet, but all that food tastes too good. You lack the self control to give that all up. You used to be so muscular, but now look at you. Hardly any muscular definition anywhere. Gosh, and just look at this gut. It's so big and soft and jiggly. It yields at my very touch. You've gotten so fat baby, but you just can't help yourself can you? My fat pig~

I suppose we should take care of you since your hunger is freaking insatiable, huh? You just wanna eat and fill that belly up until there's no give to it, huh? You love that feeling of being so full you couldn't possibly move. You always have something to feast on to keep that gut full to bursting. You just can't control yourself, hmm~? But you love that. You need that. You're suffering just starving and yearning to gorge on so much food even such a simple task as breathing will become laborious. But you love feeling so stuffed, hmm~? Just so fucking full and big, huh? Don't hesitate to ask for help, that's my job, and I love it. I love feeding you and filling you up with just so much food reaching, testing, and pushing your limits, surprising even yourself when it's all said and done. You just don't know when to stop do you. I see your buttons digging into your big, fat belly, why don't you pop them for me? I know how excited you get from that. Makes you think how quickly you grew in such a short time. We might as well just take that shirt off. Look at these stretch marks even. They've developed so well in such a short amount of time. Have you had your fill? I think you can still fit more in there. Don't you? So much good food and you just wanna fit it all in that massive belly all at once, huh? Just slowly making it get bigger and bigger and bigger. I know you love that, but I love that too. Youre just so fuckin greedy, arent you. I want to hear you say it. Tell me how much you love that feeling of your gut being just so full and heavy cuz of all the food you stuffed in there~ Tell me you love it when you stuff yourself silly, and when I help you~ Once you're done stuffing your round stomach, I'll take care of you some more. Would you like that? I know you would. I would knead that tummy like it's putty in my hands. Maybe even slap it just a bit, just to see how much it jiggles even when you're oh so stuffed. It's a joy to see its softness still even after you having been stuffed to the hilt because previous incidents as this. Such a good piggy~ My good, fat hog~

-Admin Kai

[thetriggeredhappy]

74 for speeding bullet😍

aye aye captain. (warnings for severe sauciness but a fade to black before anything more happens. free of sauce up until the line break in the middle)

#74: Kisses Where One Person Is Sitting In The Other’s Lap.

“Is this your way of hinting that you want attention?” Sniper asked, raising an eyebrow at the Scout that had just deposited himself in Sniper’s lap right there in the middle of the common room and looking down at the magazine he’d just tossed to the floor from out of Sniper’s hands.

“It’s my way of tellin’ you that you forgot,” Scout corrected, and that was when Sniper realized that Scout’s glare was a lot less pouty and dramatized than usual, and had some very real irritation underlying, and he realized that he might be In Trouble.

“Uh,” Sniper started, already frantically searching his brain for whatever he forgot. “Well. Er. The thing is. That. Well. That’s the thing. Um.”

Scout let him stammer for a few more seconds before sighing hard through his nose. “Six-thirty? My room?” he prompted impatiently. “Like, every week? For the past three months, unless you tell me you’re busy? With something more important than the fuckin’, the bi-weekly issue of—“ he looked over his shoulder at the magazine on the ground, “Of generic Australian hunting magazine?”

“Oh god,” Sniper managed. “It’s Saturday.”

“Yeah. It’s Saturday,” Scout deadpanned. Over Scout’s shoulder, Sniper could see Heavy and Medic exchanging a pointed look over their game of chess, and Engineer trying and failing to muffle his laughter, burying himself further in the notebook he was writing in.

“Um.” Sniper lifted his arm to look at his watch, and his eyes widened. It was past eight PM. “How long were you… waiting?”

“An hour and a half,” Scout said, expression tightening, and Sniper felt like he’d swallowed his own kukri. “Then I went to try your camper. Then I was gonna go to the kitchen to get something to eat because I was hungry but I was gonna wait until you showed up then we could both get something to eat. And on the way to the kitchen, there he is! The man himself.” Scout looked pointedly down at the plate that was sitting on the table just to one side of the chair Sniper occupied. “Having eaten already.”

Some amount of the intense, lava-hot guilt burning its way out of his chest and into his face must have shown, because Scout only glared for another few seconds before he softened, the anger giving way to just hurt.

“I got worried,” Scout murmured, much too quietly for anyone else to eavesdrop on the two of them. “I thought something happened. It ain’t like you to forget stuff. Don’t scare me like that.”

“I’ll, er. I can cook you something if you’d like,” Sniper managed, voice a little choked. “To make it up to you.”

“That’d be a good start,” Scout acquiesced, relaxing slightly. He leaned in to give Sniper a kiss, which Sniper returned, also relaxing slightly at the show of affection, fierce and crowded with concern as it was. When they pulled back again a minute or so later, Scout had apparently calmed down enough to make a joke. “Oh, you motherfucker, you had mac and cheese too, didn’t you? God damn it.”

“There’s more left,” Sniper assured quickly, hands squeezing at Scout’s sides briefly before he tugged upwards, encouraging Scout out of his lap.

Scout led the way towards the kitchen. As Sniper passed by him, Engie commented quietly, “Boy’s got you whipped, son.” Sniper did not argue that point.

He heated back up the extra mac and cheese, even going so far as to fire up the toaster so Scout could do the ridiculous thing he liked where he’d butter toast and put the mac and cheese between the slices to eat like a sandwich. Sniper didn’t get it, but it was one of the younger man’s favorite meals. Apparently it reminded him of home. Scout, meanwhile, mostly just took to sulking a little ways down the counter. He brightened a little bit when Sniper finally set food out in front of him, and his mood visibly improved as he started wolfing down his meal. He only slowed down about halfway through the second sandwich he’d made, and Sniper felt the guilt reverberating around his chest again, because wow, Scout had clearly been really hungry.

“Y’know why I’m extra mad?” Scout finally said, breaking the silence between bites of macaroni sandwich (or, as he’d unfortunately named it, the Maccy Sand). “I was really excited to show you a surprise.”

Sniper blinked. “What?”

“I had a surprise for you. And you fucked it up because you just, you didn’t show up.”

“What was it?” Sniper asked.

“I dunno if you deserve it now,” Scout said petulantly, taking another significant bite of his third and final sandwich.

“C’mon, Bilby, please?” Sniper asked, more earnest than he usually allowed of himself.

Scout looked him up and down. “We’ll see,” he finally decided, and went back to eating.

-

Once he was done eating and Sniper had rinsed off their plates, they moved to Scout’s room, where it became immediately obvious that, in Scout’s increasing stress, he’d started cleaning up to try and get his mind off of things. Sniper took a cautious seat on Scout’s actually-made bed, and Scout promptly moved to sit in his lap again, legs perpendicular to Sniper’s.

“Scared the hell outta me,” Scout muttered, kissing Sniper hard to emphasize the point. When he drew back again, that frown had returned. “Don’t do that again.”

“I’m sorry,” Sniper said, honesty in his tone and in his face and in the way he squeezed at Scout’s hip where he’d put a hand to keep him stable.

“I know,” Scout sighed, and leaned in to press his face into the crook of Sniper’s neck. “Just… damn it. I had plans and everything and now I can barely remember them. I’m all frazzled.”

“For the surprise?” Sniper inferred.

“Yeah. I… it’s gonna take me a minute to remember what all I wanted to do.”

Sniper was starting to get a little confused about what the surprise was. Nevertheless, he stayed quiet and still to let Scout think, even as the other man kissed his way idly up the side of Sniper’s neck, ending at his temple.

“Okay,” Scout finally said, kissed him on the lips briefly. “Okay. So there’s a surprise.”

“Right,” Sniper said.

“And you’re gonna look for it,” Scout said next. “You’ve gotta find it.”

Sniper looked around the room, deciding that the task would probably be infinitely easier since Scout had apparently cleaned. “…Right.”

“So we’re gonna play hot or cold so you can find it easier.” Scout added.

Sniper laughed. “Right? So it’s a gift, then?”

“Yeah, sorta. You’re gonna love it. Or… or maybe not, I dunno. I hope you’ll like it. Anyways.” Scout kissed Sniper again, still briefly, before he moved to sit next to Sniper instead of across his lap.

Sniper stood up and moved to the center of the room after a moment of consideration. “Ready when you are,” he said.

“Cool. You’re cold.”

Sniper thought for a moment, then took a few steps towards Scout’s closet.

“Ice cold.”

He paused, then moved over in the direction of the dresser.

“Still cold. Hypothermia. Frostbite.”

Sniper rolled his eyes, taking a few steps towards where Scout was.

“Warmer. Warmer,” Scout intoned.

Sniper nodded, moving to walk to the bedside table, taking a knee.

“Warmer, but not hot,” Scout said quickly.

Sniper raised an eyebrow at that, moving to look under the bed now.

“Still just warmer.”

He looked up at Scout, eyebrows furrowing.

Scout was grinning. “Hotter.”

He felt a grin pulling at his own face, and he moved to shove Scout down, leaning over him in a way that would be menacing were they not dating.

“Hot,” Scout laughed.

“You are,” Sniper agreed, and that just made a Scout laugh more. “Is it you?”

“I’m not a surprise,” Scout tried and failed to deadpan, startled into giggles as Sniper assaulted his neck with ticklish little kisses.

“But you are an absolute treasure,” Sniper pointed out, pulling back enough to press a kiss to Scout’s rapidly-reddening cheek.

“True,” Scout agreed. “But no, I’m not the gift. Close, though.”

Sniper raised an eyebrow at him, shifting to get a bit more comfortable in the way he was leaning, a hand finding its way to Scout’s side.

“Hotter.”

A moment of consideration before a Sniper grinned, that same hand tugging on Scout’s shirt to untuck it before migrating beneath to deliver a pinch to his nipple under his shirt.

Scout gasped, arched despite himself. “C-cooler,” he said, voice wobbly. Sniper pinched at the other one for good measure. “Still cooler—Snipes, why do I feel like you’re messin’ with me?”

“I’m not messing with you, I’m playing the game,” Sniper defended, pinching the first again and laughing at Scout’s enthusiastic yet frustrated reaction for a moment before he relented and his hand returned to Scout’s waist, then tentatively slid down towards his hip.

“Warmer,” Scout said, and was he flushing further from Sniper’s messing around, or was he getting embarrassed? To test Sniper’s growing theory, his hand skipped down to Scout’s thigh, then just above his knee. “Colder again, I think.”

Finally Sniper just moved to rest his hand on Scout’s lower hip, looking at him knowingly, and Scout was flushed clear up to his ears.

“Hot. Burning hot,” he self-corrected, and Sniper only hesitated for a second before he moved to pop the button on Scout’s pants.

His breath mysteriously disappeared. He quickly moved to try and pull fabric down and away to get a better view of what he was looking at, and once he was sure his eyes weren’t decieving him, he looked back up at Scout.

“Found it,” Scout said weakly, managing a tight smile, reaching down behind himself presumably to adjust the way that the—the goddamn lingerie was sitting on him, maybe for comfort.

For a moment, the euphoria gave way to that knife-like guilt again. Because Scout had waited around his room for well over an hour, sitting around and almost definitely worrying about whether Sniper would enjoy his gift, and Sniper knew he was impatient on a good day and would damn near tear his own hair out on a bad one, and for over an hour he’d sat around hungry and self-conscious and waiting and eventually worrying and fearing the worst and—

“Gorgeous,” Sniper said the moment he caught back up with the present moment, hand smoothing down Scout’s flank again, and the nervousness disappeared from Scout’s expression slowly over a few moments. “A bloody beaut, look at you. Get—get out of these,” he implored, pulling meaningfully on Scout’s baggy uniform pants.

He got up to allow Scout room to get free of them, and suddenly it occurred to him—had Scout been wearing those all day? He’d have to ask later. In the meantime, Scout pushed and pulled him to maneuver him so he was sat against the pillows at the headboard before straddling him again, wearing much the same expression he’d worn when he’d done so earlier that evening, but this time with a very different subtext, with his shirt hanging down to tantalizingly hide the gorgeous view from him. “Sitting around all day excited to show you this, and you forget,” Scout muttered, echoing Sniper’s earlier thought process.

“Sorry,” Sniper repeated simply, throat dry, having a hard time keeping his eyes away from the place where he could just catch sight of lace below that shirt if he really craned his neck.

“I’m still kinda mad at you,” Scout seemed to decide aloud. “So y’know what we’re gonna do now?”

“Hmm?” Sniper managed, voice threatening to break.

Scout smirked, tilting his chin up. “You’re gonna make it up to me.”

[boogiewrites]

Reports & Repertoire 17: Resentment & Return

Characters: Eddie Brock x Venom x Candace Miller (OFC)

Summary:  Candy tries to find her way about the world after being roofied and hushed by the media. Eddie is hit with a strong dose of karma, and it's two against one.

Warnings/Tags: Angst. Talk of past trauma and drugging. Revenge plots. Violence and threats.

Click on my icon then go to Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters. 

On the navy comforter of her queen size bed, sat in the middle of her minimalist white and grey room, Candy sits with her best friend Steph who is currently threatening her if she blinks one more time.

“You act like you’ve never put on eyeliner before.” Steph remarks with her judgment not hidden in her tone or expression.

“It’s different when other people are doing it!” She whines. “The makeup artist at work doesn’t do it as hard as you.” She mutters. “She’s also a lot nicer.” She shoots an accusatory brow her way.

“Well she’s getting paid isn’t she?” Steph smirks.

“Fair point.” Candy responds without nodding her head. “But you love me so you should be nice to me. I’m about to go do some important stuff I need support.” She reaches out and grabs at Steph’s unoccupied hand desperately as she bites her tongue and titters.

“Yeah, that’s what you got Eddie for now.” She snarks and shakes her head. “Speaking of, what does he think about all this?”

“He’s as pissed as I am so he’s down. He’s my backup.” She answers with a sultry lilt.

“I’m sure you are backing it up on that beefy, award-winning journalist.” She teases with a fanciful swipe of her hand. “Tell me. When you two have sex do you both have a press conference afterward to discuss the transaction?” Her face remains without a hint of sarcasm as was her skill set.

“As a matter of fact we do. It’s very productive.” She retorts with sassy. “The copy is good to keep and read later alone.” She grins.

“You fuckin’ nerds.” Steph mumbles and shakes her head. Steph was more skilled when it came to makeup than Candy. So for this undercover mission to the rich tech club where the drugging happened, she was helping her not look like herself.

After the initial turn down of her idea to expose the apparently rampant problem she’d been a victim of, she does what few journalists choose to do and gives away her story to someone else. There was a smaller female journalist who did some excellent work at a small newspaper locally. Candy offered her help to give her some footage, evidence and lend the story and support to the endeavor.

The night for the first recon mission was finally upon them. Eddie sits nervously in the modern and cozy living room, knee bouncing and knuckles white with worry. Venom tries to console him, assuring him they would never let anything happen to Candy. Eddie knows, finding his counterparts attempts at comfort to be failing. Putting his favorite person in danger wasn’t really something he could be talked into being excited about. Not a worst-case scenario by far, but a loudly nagging issue, was having to sit and listen to the men hit on Candy all night and that alone was raising his blood pressure.

Candy had pulled out all the stops when it came to mission from the glasses that had a camera inside and nail polish that reacted to Rohypnol, or Roofies. She had to specially ask for the kick starter to be sent to her before the release with the promise of free advertising after the fact to get it. She reveals her disguise, exiting from her bedroom, Venom slithering around the back of the couch to see her before Eddie. She was in something that looked entirely unlike her. A short and tight black dress, a push-up bra with chicken cutlets and enough makeup to give her flashbacks to middle school cheer competitions.

“How do I look?” she asks with a scrunch of her nose.  It’s usual button shape now straight with the help of Steph’s contouring.

“Not like you.” Eddie remarks with an approving nod.

“A big titty goth girlfriend.” Venom says with no humor or irony and the girls begin to laugh. “Why is this funny? This is what Eddie says. Why are you embarrassed Eddie? Large mammary glands and gothic styling are wonderful things in a girlfriend. She wears black. Like me.” he grins as Edie blushes.

“It’s a...an old internet thing, dude just… don’t go around talking about titties so freely. It’s rude.”

“I did not mean to offend… thought it was a compliment.”

“Good use of slang there, hun.” Candy praises his efforts. “I appreciate both of your thinking I have big tits though. It’s just the bra.” she laughs and shakes as Venom’s grin grows wider.

“Calm down.” Eddie groans.

“We are calm,” he says retracting himself back to Eddie’s shoulder. “Are you ready? We’ve got a long night ahead of us.”

“Let’s check the camera first.” Candy says with a clear enthusiasm Eddie did not share.

They run the tests and she learns how to direct her gaze most efficiently. They’d gone over the plan a dozen times. Arrive alone, sit and be bait while Venom lurked on the roof and kept a lookout for her and her victim. They left the house separately, both in taxis that picked them up at places other than her house. She arrived as planned and sat, and waited.

For a girl that looked like her, in a bar like that, it didn’t take long once it was established she was alone. No one recognized her, but she didn’t expect them to, Steph’s contouring really was a miracle worker. She played fun and easy, and it took a few guys, but late enough in the night she finally caught one as she played drunk on top of everything else. She didn’t see the guys who had drugged her before, which was a letdown but anyone who would do this deserved it right?

She talked him up, a trust fund baby who, with his father's money, had a tech start-up. It took no effort on her part to get him talking about his genius and how HE would run Tesla if he had the chance. There were a lot of “Oh my god that’s CRAZY!” and “That’s SOOOO smart.”’s from her but he was so caught up in hearing himself he didn’t notice the soundboard answers as they came from her like a kid hitting buttons on a customized keyboard. With the mere suggestion of her excusing herself and asking him to get her another drink, he was antsy to put his own plan into action. On return, she tested it while distracting him with her chest. A task that proved almost too easy. She fake drank for a while before claiming to feel sleepy and wanting to “get this show on the road” before it got too late.

With a short walk, not even a few blocks down, she knew her alien accomplice was close, slinking in the darkness of the rooftops. The disguised Candy pulls the unsuspecting predator out of the street lamp lit sidewalk and into the dank shadows of the greasy alleyway.

“I  just can’t wait.” she giggles “I don’t want to chance my roommate being in and I want you all to myself.” she coos with a bop of her manicured finger to his nose.

“I mean, your roommate can join in too if she wants.” he offers with a smug smirk.

“Well, the problem is my roommates a dude.” She answers with an upward inflection.

“Ah, red flag much?” he laughs.

“No. He’s my boyfriend… and inhabited by a symbiote.” Her delivery goes flat, sober eyes meet the pursuer turned victim.

“What the fuck? You goth girls are fuckin’ crazy, man. Not even the drugs could come up that shit.” he shakes his head, still laughing.

“No. Really. He’s huge and dangerous and doesn’t like you. You’re a piece of shit who tries to drug women to sleep with them because you're a pathetic excuse for a human who can’t get laid on his own.”

“Wait, what?” he stutters, suddenly standing up straight as Venom drops from the rooftop behind her in an impressive slinking mass. She has to admit, the look of horror on his face did things to her. The sheer terror that only being faced with death could give a dense, self-worshiping asshole like him.

“We’re going to eat you. First that big head of yours...then slurp up your organs like fava beans and then drink your adrenaline glands like a nice  chianti.” His dagger teeth drip with drool, proof of his hunger and intention.

Candy beams with pride for the completion of their plan, stepping back and chuckling quietly at the reference Venom made. The guy doesn’t even have time to scream. There’s not a drop of blood or splatter left of him to find. It’s like it never happened at all.

Candy is left with a deeply satisfied, albeit disturbingly good feeling in her gut. “I’ll see you later, babe.” she whispers and just as quiet as they’d came, they fled.

This continued for a few weeks, the footage of the drugging is stored on an external harddrive Candy kept in her safe. Eddie thought it’d only happen once. But it happened again, twice, three times more before there were articles about mysterious disappearances of the young rich elite in town. Was it the work of the Illuminati some articles asked? She read them with her coffee every Tuesday and smiled knowingly. It pleased Venom. Finally, a human that understood him and his need to kill to eat and protect this planet and its people. But Eddie was more worried than relieved at this point.

—- “You made us stop hunting when we got too much media attention. And now you want to go out and do it again?” Candy could hear the concern for her in Eddie's voice but her own was too strong to heed his warning.

“I wanna find the guy that originally did it to me, Eddie.” Her eyes give away the hurt that’s been fueling her anger as her hands move animatedly while she argues her point. “These are awful people, same as who you get rid of, there’s no reason not to give it one more shot.”

Eddie sighs and puts his hands on his hips, feeling as if he was talking to his old self. “Candy, I don’t want a fight alright? I get why you’re upset and I’d be upset too!” His voice inflected hugger pitched with feeling, “Hell, I AM upset! I get it. I do but ya know you can’t keep pushing it. Your luck will run out… like mine did. You’ll push it just one step too far because of your pride and then boom, it all falls apart.”

“Am I supposed to just let it go what they did to me? To the countless other girls they’ve done it too?” He saw the tears she fought back and his heart hurt for her. He suddenly understood everyone that had tried to warn him of the same thing in the past. It was weird karma to witness.

He sighs and gives her sad and tired eyes, much like the ones she was giving him. “You aren’t… losing by moving on ya know. You can’t win them all, just believe me, babe, please. I’ve BEEN where you are alright? I GET it! I swear I do but you can't fix every wrong out there. You just can’t… I’m sorry.”

“I’m going out tonight. And you’re going to be there. That... I hesitate to call him a person but that asshole will be there who did this to me. I just know it. Let me do it just one more time and I’ll stop okay? Please Eddie?”

He groans and feels Venom wants to give his two cents. He was on Candy's side. But of course, he was, he didn’t grasp the situation fully because he couldn’t, he was damn near indestructible right now and one more buffet of bad guys seemed like it had no downsides when you took into account it meant making Candy happy. And they both wanted that, so desperately. She’d been so much happier since they’d started this after the funk she denied she’d fallen into after the roofie.

“Fine.” He says with more anger. “But just one more time Candy I swear to god, this is the last time I’m helping you do this.” He wags his finger and she doesn’t care. She doesn’t notice. She’d already gotten her way.

—— She had her ritual now she liked to do, the getting ready and primping. The adrenaline rush was enough to get anyone hooked on the feeling. Perhaps it was what made her go against sound advice. Perhaps it was the lack of justice for herself, feeling like a martyr to take on people who seemed untouchable. It was the origin story she’d dreamed of since she was young. A woman wronged, going against the bad guys for the ultimate revenge and winning against the odds. It was everything she’d wanted. And she foolishly thought she could have it.

She was right about one thing. The guy that drugged her was there that night. She and Venom only used this convenient coincidence to shut Eddie up. “It’s a sign!” They’d hissed together.

“It’s a bad idea.” was Eddies defeated reply.

Candy enjoys this one a little too much, a little too true-crime podcast subject for Eddie's liking.

She leads him to the alley with her curves and promises. Her heels giving her no trouble but her wobbly ankles playing like they did all the same to the target.

“You believe in karma?” She proposes, lips so close she could taste the alcohol in the air on his breath.

“Nah, you get what you work for. You gotta step on some toes sometimes to prove you’re the best. If you lose you didn’t try hard enough.” He cockily answered. Something he’d probably picked up from the few interactions he had with him billionaire father growing up. His trust fund was a shield against his own evil deeds.

“That’s a shame. Because I do.” She sighs.

“I don’t think we have to match up on our philosophy 101 ideas, babe.” He chuckles. “Don’t have to have anything in common at all to do what I wanna do to you.” His hands lead to her hips and next thing he knows there’s a knife pressed into his neck. This was new. This wasn’t part of the plan.

Eddie's heartbeat picks up as he sees through Venom's eyes what’s happening. She was in too deep and she was only going to dig herself deeper.

“I’m glad we have one thing in common for what I’m going to do to you.” She snarls, taking her wig and glasses off.

“What the…?!” He says with no fear and only surprise. “Wait aren’t you? Holy shit you again?” He laughs. “So you’re the one doing this little vigilante justice thing. How cute.”

“Cute? You were going to rape me and my friend you fucking disgusting, baby dicked piece of shit.”

“They're onto you sweetie.” He grins. “You can do whatever you want to me but you think killing the brightest minds in the world was a smart idea? Like no one would come looking? You really are stupid.”

“You can call me whatever you want because you’ll be dead and I’ll be able to breathe a little easier knowing one less asshole like you is in this world.”

“Do what you want little girl, but I’m gonna put up a fight you can’t win.” He smirks.

“Doubtful.” Is Venom's response as he appears looking over Candy in the dim and dank alley.

“Good riddance.” She says angrily, putting her wig back on. She continues to mutter curses and name call while her eyes well up with a long-held release that was a long time coming.

“Are you-“

“I’m FINE.” She snaps and wipes at a falling tear. Venom recoils noticeably. “I’ll... see you later.” She rushes out before stomping off.

“Eddie?”

“I know man. She’s just… going through a lot.”

“We are worried.”

“Yeah. We are.”

-----------------------------

@hardygal69​ @marvelgirl7​ @emerald-bijou @brianaisasongbird​ @vale0413​ @izzy-the-ginger​ @chortletortoise @onomatopoetic-aesthetic @anrm1 @jademox​ @nightcraver​ @venomous-possibiities @tinastarkandco​ @chipster-21​ @ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes​ @queenof-wakanda @s-h-e-w-r-i-t-e-s​ @peakys-mystic​ 

[wilhelmjfink]

Weather The Storm - Pt. 1

A/N: THIS SHIT TURNED OUT TO BE REALLLLLLY LONG!! So it’s 2 parts now :-) Sorry guys but I hope this warrants everyone that reads it to follow me in anticipation for the next part! Also this part is  mildly shmutty (rated m for mature if you will because I REALLY try to be classy with this shit you guys) and took me forever to write becauseeee I literally just can’t write erotica unless I’m good and drunk??? But then it gets gooooood so I hope you guys enjoy this because it stressed me out for like a week :,) You guys know I’m 110% for angry and sad Daryl because I love suffering but I tried to go for a little bit of a relaxed, positive vibe on this one... part 2 is going to be hot mother fuckers so stay tuned!!!! 

@samlott2202 requested a young reader so I hope that this satisfies! hehe xoxo

“It’s getting real dark over there,” you told Daryl from the second floor balcony of the suburban home you both occupied. Gated communities were always a task considering you never knew whether or not they would be full of walkers from the people who fled there before it got bad in hopes of some security. This one, unfortunately, had been quite populated — however the haul you would return with that night would be worth every walker you’d killed to get there.

Daryl appeared behind you, his boots shuffling tiredly against the concrete until he reached your side and leaned his arms on the iron rail and allowed himself to stretch out and relax as he exhaled smoke from the cigarette he’d lit. “Reckon it’s gonna storm bad tonight.”

You glanced at him beside you, fighting a smirk and looking back away toward the distance where the dark, angry clouds rolled in over the horizon and the crashing water further out beneath it. “Wow. Daryl Dixon, on the spot,” you giggled to yourself. “And now over to Tom for sports.”

“Shuddup,” he nudged you playfully with his shoulder, smiling just the slightest bit but enough to have your stomach flip at the sight.

Stop, stop, stop. It was becoming increasingly difficult for you to stifle the feelings that had developed ever since Daryl had swooped in and saved you from the trio of strangers that cornered you on a run several weeks ago. Two men and a woman that had quite literally appeared out of thin air, knife to to your throat, knees forced down in the dirt as they began to rifle through your bag in search of any goods you’d worked for that day.

But an arrow through the skull of the man that had his weapon held to the flesh of your neck had frozen the other two in shock and while they then spun around furiously in search of the perpetrator, you’d managed to grab the shotgun from behind you and slice the other woman as she receded back toward you threateningly, luring you into a struggle with her. And, a split second later, Daryl and then Rick had appeared, the second hauling the woman off of you while the other pounded on the man like a tiger and landed punch after punch until he was positive he wouldn’t come back as even a walker; and you’d never seen him so angry.

Rick had managed to simmer him down but he still went to you, eyes wild as he interrogated you about what they’d done, if they’d hurt you, if they’d done worse in the moments he’d been gone. But you could only stare stupidly at him, shaking your head before the dwindling adrenaline finally allowed you to step forward and wrap your arms around him at the realization that this man has just saved you from all of those potentially deadly and horrific things. And the anger and worry that laced his words had your heart fluttering because he cared.

But after that, nothing had changed — at least on his end. You still had the same, comfortable interactions, the same friendly demeanor about them. And that was all it was — friendly. And you knew you needed to smother your schoolgirl crush before you did something outlandish that you’d regret, knowing it would scare him off and you’d lose him as merely a friend and shoot down any potential of there ever maybe being something in the possible future. 

It was a struggle with your easy-going and flirtatious nature but you couldn’t help but swoon at the way he blushed at your comments, always averting his gaze and hiding his small smile, the tips of ears turning light pink. 

But you guessed that, like most things life held for you nowadays, it too would pass.

There was a low rumble of thunder that echoed from far off, growing louder as it neared you and confirmed your suspicions of a bad oncoming storm. If you had to guess you would say it was late April, early May; showers were common lately and thunderstorms were no different, though this one held a little bit of a heavier weight it seemed.

“See how the leaves ‘er flipped upside down?” Daryl asked, motioning toward a towering oak tree in the back yard of the luxurious home you sought shelter in when a light rain had started to sprinkle down only to stop shortly thereafter. You followed his gesture and noticed the greening leaves were indeed turned over, the lighter side upright as they rustled in the wind. “Almost always means a storm’s comin’.”

You nodded thoughtfully. “And you see how dark it is there — where that bolt of lightning just flashed?” Daryl then nodded in response, awaiting your answer curiously. “That usually means that it’s lightning somewhere.”

Another playfully harsh shove had you stumbling over yourself as you laughed at your own sarcasm, not missing the way he exhaled a genuine but breathy laugh that had butterflies coming to life in your stomach. “Man, you’re just full’a shit today, aren’t ya? Ya high or somethin’?”

High on you. Even you rolled your eyes at your subconscious. “No, just in a good mood, I guess.”

“Why’s that?”

You shrugged, holding your hand out flat to test if it was in fact a rain drop that had fallen on your head. “I dunno. I don’t question it anymore. Just take advantage of it when it happens.”

Daryl flicked the cigarette butt over the ledge. “Smart thing t’do, I spose.” 

Another rumble of thunder caught his attention and you watched him curiously as he observed the distance, his eyes narrowing in thought. 

“Think we should get back?” You asked, but he shook his head almost imperceptibly.

“Nah, it’s rollin’ in quick. Either means it’ll hit here hard n’ pass by... or it could be a real bad one, too.”

“What do you mean ‘real bad’?” 

You asked him, pushing the sliding glass door open the remainder of its frame to allow him in beside before you pulled it back shut. “Should we wait until it passes?”

“Look down there,” Daryl pointed to a patch of sky to the east of the oncoming storm where the giant wall of clouds seemed to break enough to reveal some sky. It seemed to be dark itself, though, the hue turning greenish yellow as the patch stretched in its direction. “S’not a good sign.”

You tucked yourself back inside the master bedroom around the corner, backing away from the glass doors and windows. “Is it gonna tornado? Because I don’t do tornados.”

Daryl threw a glance at you over his shoulder, quirking up an eyebrow at your confession. “You afraid of storms?”

“No, not storms,” you corrected. “Tornados.”

“Same thing.”

“Uh, no — not really!” He smiled at the way your voice inflected as your apprehension became more and more noticeable. “Thunderstorms I can handle. A fuckin’ freight train whirling through town and sucking up everything in its path? That’s a little different. I’m not down with that — I’m not built to withstand that shit.”

Daryl chuckled at what you knew was a relatively silly fear to have, but at the same time, was justifiable considering the circumstances. No more weather warnings, no more emergency shelters and emergency responders when they were needed. No assurance that the house you were in was sturdy and had been kept up with in terms of construction so that the roof over your head wouldn’t blow the fuck off. You could feel your heart beginning to race and you forced yourself to keep a level head which became more difficult as the rain began to pick up, rapping loudly against the ceiling above you.

“It’ll be fine, alright? I promise.”

If you told him that his reassurance offered you absolutely no comfort, you would’ve been lying through your teeth. The way he approached you, strong and confident, his bright blue eyes boring into yours in a way that had you feeling like you were staring at an open, blue sky basking in sunlight. You couldn’t even find your voice at that moment, your mouth going dry and unable to respond verbally in any way despite your desire to thank him for simply being there. So you nodded and gazed back at him, unable and unwilling to tear your eyes away from him as he stared at you with his own thoughts whirling through his head before he broke it and made his way out of the master bedroom. 

“C’mon. Let’s go find some flashlights or candles or somethin’. Might as well get comfy.”

Trotting after him, you peered out the windows as you followed his footsteps down the winding staircase, flinching at the proximity of the lightning as it grew nearer. “How long do you think we’ll be here?”

“Why?” He asked you, rifling through a closet at the foot of the steps. “You gotta date or somethin’?”

When you heard him respond you knew that he was consciously making an effort to put your fraying nerves at ease, light-heartedly teasing you and steering the conversation away from the oncoming storm. You couldn’t help but laugh, dry as it was, and roll your eyes.

“Don’t be a dick,” you replied, joining him in his search through the first section of the large home.

“Oh, like ya weatherman comment was so flatterin’.”

“I thought they were funny,” you mumbled to yourself, reaching into the cupboards above the refrigerator on your tiptoes. Your fingers brushed against glass and you fumbled for a grip on it until you managed to wrap your fist around the neck of a bottle you pulled down to eyesight. “Will this help?”

Daryl careened his neck around the doorframe to see what you were talking about and you could tell he was as pleased at the sight as you were. “If tha’s your poison. Crack ‘er open.”

You eyed the bottle in your hands, watching the clear liquid slosh around against the glass. Bacardi 151. “I’ve never really drank before,” you admitted. 

Daryl turned and eyed you incredulously. “Huh?”

“Well, I was only sixteen before all this.”

With a low whistle, Daryl shut the door of the closet he was digging through, his arms full of some odds and ends that would be useful as the storm raged on outside, picking up with each passing moment. “Never woulda guessed you was just a kid back then.”

You merely shrugged. “Yeah, I get that a lot. Well, got that a lot. I think that would make me about twenty now, right?”

He grunted in response and you found that you were slightly upset at his lack of response.

“I’ve told you that before,” you added to break the silence. He shrugged, staring down at his hands.

“Guess I forgot,” he muttered.

“It doesn’t bother you, does it?”

When he didn’t answer that time you turned to face him, your cheeks flushing instantly under his stare as he seemed to be holding some internal dialogue with himself; you could see the wheels turning behind his eyes and you looked away almost instantly before he caught himself and cleared his throat.“Uh — yeah, no, it don’t bother me none.” He was fidgeting with the lantern in his hands until it flickered and the dusty bulb inside came to life. He shoved it in his backpack in the countertop, trying to distract himself as he stuffed it with cans of food and batteries and anything useful he could get his hands on. Anything useful he could grab to avoid looking at you; still he spoke up: “You’re more mature than lotsa other people your age.”

Sifting through the cabinets in search of glasses, you smiled at him. “Had to be. Can this stuff be drank straight? Well, never mind, I guess it has to be. Not like we have a chaser or anything...”

Daryl snorted: “chaser? Thought ya said ya didn’t drink?”

“I said I didn’t drink much,” you sat a glass down on the dusty granite island in the center of the kitchen, catching his attention enough to bring him over, hopping on the barstool across from where you stood. He watched you carefully pour the drinks, flinching when a crackle of thunder broke suddenly through the silence.

“Ya sure ya ain’t afraid of storms?” He smirked.

“Fine,” you sighed in defeat. “Maybe I am a little afraid of storms.”

“Ain’t got nothin’ to be afraid of,” Daryl replied after kicking back his drink and wiping his mouth on the back of his sleeve. “I told ya, I ain’t gonna let anything happen to ya.”

It was a small phrase, hardly mentioned in passing and otherwise quotidian. But when he said it to you, it had your pulse racing, the blood rushing to your cheeks. And he noticed, too; he hadn’t meant for it to be laced with an underlying affection but it came out that way naturally and the short silence that followed it was thick and heavy but sweet like molasses.

You decided to take a taste of your own drink and brought it to your lips, shuddering when it stung your tongue and burned down your throat. Of course Daryl laughed at your reaction, the sound a beautiful antonym against the rolling thunder and harsh winds that blew outside that would’ve left you terrified if he wasn’t there with you.

“Ya don’t sip it,” he told you, reaching for the bottle to pour another for himself. “C’mon, kid.”

Determined to rid yourself of the ‘kid’ tag he’d categorized you in you tipped the glass back, downing the liquid in one gulp before slamming the glass back down against the granite and exhaling deeply, fighting the unappetizing burn it gave you as Daryl continued to sit by and enjoy watching you do so.

“At’ta girl,” he said lowly before kicking back another. Innocently enough, you presumed, but the heat that had just ran down your throat and into your stomach pooled even farther down and you felt your face flush in an instant, your pulse racing. Inside your head your brain was reeling, trying to figure out the next thing to say or do, whether or not to read too much into it, what to do to make the situation carry on like normal.

But he’d gotten distracted, leaning over to peer around your head to the bay window behind you. You followed his gaze and relaxed at the sight of stillness, noticing then the rain had stopped and left you both in a comfortable silence.

Daryl pushed himself up from the island and walked toward the window and you followed, shadowing him timidly, fiddling with your hands awkwardly against your chest while you waited for him to inform you of what he was so interested in. 

However, when he did speak, you wished he hadn’t: “I don’t think s’over with yet.”

You cocked your head curiously, standing on your toes to look over his shoulder. “It sure looks like it.”

“Nah,” he took a step behind you, his hands moving to your side as he gently guided you to where he’d been standing before he leaned in so close to you his breath against your skin it rose goosebumps over every inch of your body. “Ya see over there? Funnel cloud’s formin’.”

It was incredibly hard to focus on where he was pointing with his proximity demanded all of your attention; the scruff feeling against your skin, the scent of cigarettes and Bacardi, it had you faint. You swallowed hard, knowing you had to answer or he would notice how incredibly turned on you were: “Yeah, lots of clouds.”

He shot you a look that had you instantly red before he slowly smirked; and you saw the unmistakable telltale signs that he was just as flustered as you were. And the way you faced each other held your lips mere inches apart and you both held your breath; while his eyes were trained on your lips yours darted between both his and his eyes. Watching. Waiting. Both of you — waiting a cue from the other, some form of confirmation...It was silent. Too silent, actually. Still.

Then, in an instant it seemed, the rain had started back up, pattering in the rooftop and drastically increased over the course of several seconds until it became obnoxiously loud.

“Hail,” Daryl said suddenly, leaning back from with such a shift in demeanor you knew he was genuinely worried. Throwing his arm further around you, he ushered you out of the kitchen. His free arm did stick out and swipe up backpack on the counter and you threw open the heavy wooden door, and Daryl slammed it shut behind you.

He’d already explored the basement while you got topside: it was a nice, luxurious space that matched the rest of the comfortable home. Finished with carpeted floors, a full bar with decorative track lighting and furniture, the works. Daryl locked the door shut after assuring it was completely closed.

“What do we do?” You asked him quietly, anxiety rising at the sight of him even the slightest bit uptight. You were noticeably shaken and you trailed after Daryl as he flicked on the lantern, setting it on the coffee table to shed at least a little light on you both.

“Why are ya whisperin’?” He asked, his own voice mockingly quiet. “The storm can’t hear ya.”

You were upset for half of a second after being mimicked, but it immediately dissipated at the sight of his slight smile and you knew he was teasing you to get your mind off of your worries because that was the only way he knew how.

“Stop making fun of me,” you giggled, falling back onto the plush sectional couch behind you. Stretching your legs out, you admired the lavish furniture. “So if you’re not worried, I shouldn’t be worried, right?”

Daryl rounded the corner to the bar and snatched a bottle off of the shelf before he joined you, dropping his bag at his feet. “Just gotta stay down here, lay low. If it gets bad...well, we’ll know, I s’pose.”

“And what do we do if it does get bad?”

“We’ll be fine down here,” he reassured you, turning so his boots were propped up onto the couch and popping the cork off of the bottle in his hands. “I wouldn’t lie to ya, alright? Told ya I’m gonna keep ya safe.”

“You always do,” you felt yourself relax at his confidence and leaned back into the cushions behind you. “Thank you.”

“For what?” He passed the bottle to you and you sheepishly took it.

“For always making me feel safe.” Drink and pass it back. You’re getting comfortable. You knew there was a chance the comment could make him slightly uncomfortable but you swore he smiled the slightest bit before he answered quietly and took the bottle from your outstretched hand.

“‘m glad ya feel safe with me.” 

It was both comically and ironically demonstrated when the thunder crackled so violently the walls around you physically shook, and you instinctively jumped up from the couch with a terrified yelp and Daryl reactively reached for you as if he could’ve stopped you from running away.

“Thought I made ya feel safe,” he joked as you caught your breath. You brought your hand to your heart, too, sure that the sound might have actually stopped your heart.

“You do!” You smiled despite being winded and shaken. “But the things you make me feel can’t stop the loud ass thunder from scaring me half to death.”

He caught it before you did, the liquid courage heightening his sensitivity to the vibes you gave off the loser it made you. “Things? What the hell else do I make ya feel?”

You felt called out and shifted uncomfortably as you tried to think of a response to being called out. “Uhm, good things — happy. You make me... really happy.”

It was a genuine response but Daryl looked away, snorting in derision and unable to accept the compliment. “It’s true, Daryl!”

He was twisting the glass bottleneck in between his fingers sheepishly and the sight made your heart flutter familiarly once again and you stopped, the idea crossing your mind but ultimately burying itself away.

“Ya make me happy, too,” he told you shyly, his voice low and hoarse and the tone unusually musical to your senses.

At that, your heart stopped beating in your chest. “Do I really?” You asked curiously, not catching yourself as you leaned in closer to him unconsciously. He watched you intently, nodding in response. You smiled, mouth dry as you tried to formulate your next few sentences. Nervous. Fuzzy. Horny. What don’t you make me? 

Thunder roared again and the house shook all around you. You subconsciously scooted yourself closer to Daryl, your brain seizing the opportunity and timing, and not missing the way he stiffened when your bodies touched lightly touched. He held his breath. His eyes watched yours, intrigued, awaiting your next move. And you knew that you had to make it, because he never would. So you leaned in slowly, hovering before him, you’d lips inches apart just as they’d been upstairs prior that drove you insane. It was painful; the distance desperate to be closed by an unseen force that had your heart and mind racing. His hair fell in front of his eyes but you could still see them, flickering between your eyes and down to your lips hesitantly, debating. You knew you could and probably would stay there forever and never close the gap between you two — so you did it yourself.The rain and winds raging audibly on outside only seemed to encourage you, your own storm inside of you brewing the second your lips touched his. You know well enough to gauge his reaction, too, and would pull back from him just far enough to see his face and try to read his expression. But, if you knew Daryl like you thought you knew Daryl, you anticipated him being very hard to read if he wasn’t outright appalled at what you’d done in the first place.

But as you retracted, he went with you; an unseen bond pushing him forward into you as you leaned back, both fueled with a combination of adrenaline, alcohol and a mutual attraction. It surprised you at first, the fortitude of his reaction as it was so unlike him. But it was a good sign and an even better reassurance that whatever it was you had been doing, you needed to keep doing it.

Deep down, you knew the faux confidence he was exuding was due to the Bacardi, but you were also positive that he wasn’t drunk enough to do something like this if he didn’t really want to. Drunk words are sober thoughts.

So you began to sit up, not breaking the heated kiss between you with tongues brushing against each other and teeth grazing lips, your hands moving from the cushion they supported you on to his chest where they gently coerced him to lay back on the couch. It allowed you to crawl forward, your bodies meshing together as you moved naturally, you overtop of him and him comfortably beneath you as if you were one whole being instead of two separate people.

When you pulled away breathlessly Daryl looked up to you, his expression soft but unreadable behind the strands of shaggy hair that fell in front of his eyes. You gazed back down at him, infatuated entirely already, your heart pounding relentlessly at the sight and the feeling of him beneath you, and the lack thereof on your lips if even for just a minute for you both to catch your breath. During the silence, his rough hands caressed up your arms painfully slowly, blanketing you in chills as he observed you above him like you were something entirely new and enticing, just as excited but just as nervous, if not more, as you were.

Though you were over the moon and thrilled that you’d made the jump in the first place, sure that it wouldn’t have happened otherwise, you found yourself burning beneath his gaze and you looked away, biting your lip nervously to distract yourself from the fact that his gentle touch already had you giddy.

“Ya alright?” He asked quietly, his words obviously driven from concern and what you assumed was skepticism. And you knew that if you apologized and climbed off of where you hovered over him from his lap he wouldn’t argue or hold any resentment toward you and the thought alone was meant to comfort you but all it did was drive you further down the rabbit hole you were falling into.

“Yeah,” you replied, your voice hardly a whisper. “Are you?”

You worried when he hesitated a moment, afraid that this newer and confident Daryl might have withered away and left him full of regret and embarrassment, but after awhile he nodded and responded in such a way that had you wondering if you could read this thoughts. 

“‘m great.”

You couldn’t stop yourself then from falling back forward and reconnecting yourselves with a hungry kiss, your lips crashing into his so eagerly that it elicited a low growl from somewhere inside of him, lighting your own flame inside of you that quickly spread through every nerve ending over your body — some more than others.

You descended down his jaw line, planting soft kisses before lowering yourself down to his neck where you allowed your innate desires to take over and kiss and bite at his sensitive skin and you felt his soft grip tighten into a desperate clinging, his nails dragging down to your hips and around your back as he encouraged you on, also fueled by the natural feelings that you were giving him as if you’d done it all before a hundred times. When you felt his calloused fingers slip beneath the hem of your shirt you held your breath and he noticed, halting his movements immediately.

“Is this okay?” He asked you, genuinely unsure of himself which only had you even more convinced that it was much more than just okay.

“Yes,” you replied breathlessly, lowering yourself back down toward his broad chest. If the whole thing was going to be filled with doubtful questions and the need for reassuring consent, that was fine with you. The next words that came out of your mouth surprised even yourself: “Please.”

That was the only word he needed to hear in order to continue, his hands then moving up to your breasts quicker than they’d hesitantly started out. He became greedy then, not that you minded, pulling your shirt off over your head and tossing it carelessly aside. Even in something as simple and unobtrusive as the black sports bra you were wearing, he eyed you lustfully like you were prey, eager to taste like you were his last meal on death row. Shortly after, in the midst of heated kissing and moans you both failed to stifle, his hands went to the waist of your jeans and fumbled with the button for hardly a second before he managed to unfasten it with ease. And once again you hesitated for just a second where, caught up in the moments prior, you’d managed to block out your inexperience and let both Daryl and your body do all the work so that your brain could just follow, barely keeping up with the hands moving up and down and all over you. But the lower his hands drifted and the deeper your need for something more grew, the more obvious it became to him.

“Ya want me to stop?” He asked curiously, halting all his moments in fear of making you uncomfortable.

“No,” your brain immediately responded without even consciously allowing you to think of a different answer. “No, I just... I’ve never really gone much farther than this before.” You’d looked away shamefully, afraid of how he might react although you knew confidently that he would never get angry or upset, but you didn’t expect a slow smile to creep on to his face; and the sight of him beneath you with his gentle expression that still somehow held bad intentions behind it had you swooning.

Leisurely he sat upright, pushing you down this time so that you slowly lay back onto the cushions behind you, allowing him carry out whatever plans he was formulating.  “Well, we can take it real slow...”

You about melted into couch beneath you; the mixture of his words and the chivalry they held laced with desire were enough to have you squirming beneath him but combined with the way his voice growled the words lowly in your ear almost had you erupting in flames right there.

With a newly discovered confidence you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you while all fears and worries of the storm outside left you entirely. You had the notion that he was slightly hesitant as you were considering how careful he was with his movements even after you’d nearly begged him to continue, pulling your jeans off of your hips so slow it was almost painful. But when you kicked them off your ankles and discarding them to the floor. Again you found yourself slightly self-conscious in your choice of plain grey panties, but Daryl didn’t seem to mind at all as his hands went back to your abdomen and trailed lower, unhurriedly as he took his time, knowing that he would have you writhing beneath him. And he was absolutely fucking right.

LIKE & REBLOG & MAYBE I’LL POST THE 2ND PART!! ;-)

[miscellaneousmoontoffee]

MoonToffee A monster in Paris AU

The full timeline and some notes ( contains swearing and gets kinda lazy towards the end! ) (( another note Chauncey although mentioned sometimes doesn’t come up much in the AU cause there wasn’t much need, so sorry pig-goat lovers! ))

Characters

- Moon = Lucille - Toffee = Francoeur ( both monsters toffee's just a lot more cunning but I think in this AU he's going to be a lot more open and slightly naive because of the circumstances ) - River = Raoul / Emile ( Raoul's place in the story-ish and Emile's more cautious behavior but without his romance of Maud. ) - Mina = Victor ( the antagonist that's pretty full of themselves and could potentially/go mad, I think they fit each other pretty well ) - No one = Maud ( since river is going to be following after Raoul in terms of loving Moon/Lucille there is no need for a Maud plus no one really fits her much anyway ) - Count Mildrew = Albert ( both background characters and kinda up their respective asses ) - A solarian soldier = Pate ( Pate is the inspector/right hand man of Victor btw ) - Comet = Carlotta ( both the main female leads mum/mother figure ) - Chauncey = Charles ( Chauncey in this AU of course still belongs to moon but she tells him to keep an eye on the river, plus she lets him hang out with the professor cause they both have fun together, aka the prof needed a smart animal companion (( mad scientist aesthetic man )) and Chauncey wanted more food than moon gave him )

Loose plot

- River wakes up daydreaming about being together with moon then is like oh i forgot something ( you can choose what he forgot ) so he goes downstairs. - his dad is like "hey son can you help me run some errands?" obviously this was not a question so river hops in his dad's car and they drive off to do the thing. - his dad drops him off at the lab to deliver some eggs and says he needs to go do some other task and that hes gonna go and he will pick him up when hes done, and River is like "dad I’m just giving some dude eggs i can go with ya" - so his dad goes well actually the guy is out of the country and hes sure they dude wouldn't mind if river went in and looked around, wink wink nudge nudge. - river gets the message and his dad drives away. - He goes in and is like okay I'm glad I went to do chores today this is awesome, and then a pig starts chewing on his trousers and hes like " Chauncey?? what are you doing, does moon know you're here?!?" and Chauncey says nothing cause he's a pig but he tries to push river to the exit but river doesn’t pick up on this hint. - so river goes "Oooh do you wanna explore with me little buddy?" and Chauncey is like 'no leave' but river goes into the lab anyway. - the look around for a bit and river starts drawing stuff that looks cool ( the drawing is bad but he wants to  remember what stuff looks like ) -he finds some potions and is like "ooh I wonder what they do???" so tests one out on a seed that says "instant growth potion " on a label. - it of course grows and he's like wow but walks back to see it better and knocks some potions over. - Chauncey goes to try and stop the potions but steps on a lizards tail and it gets scared and runs under where the potions are falling ( river of course doesn't notice this ) - crash, boom, smoke! - river gets up and sees the shadow of a lizard man and is like " AHHHHHHH AHHHHH AHHHHHHHHHH!!!!" so it runs away so river draws it before he forgets then runs out to the front to get home, not caring that his dad said he would pick him up he's not waiting for that thing to get him! - unfortunately he drops a handkerchief which crudely had his name stitched into it and leaves back to his house. - A couple of days pass and the lizard monster starts showing up in the papers. - an investigation is started over the mysterious explosion at the lab and the new monster that appeared the very same night. - the cheif investigator tells mina loveberry 'bout this and she's like "yes, now is my chance to rise to the top!" - they look around and find River's handkerchief.

- Cut to moon, and her club is looking for a new act/singer and it's not going well. - so one of the waiters, a real smug bastard, is auditioning and it's just him singing badly about how amazing he is and telling her that she's welcome for the free performance of a god. - and she's like "yeah... no thanks I don't really think the club is really the right fit for you." - so hes like " FINE I'M TOO TALENTED FOR THIS LITTLE CLUB I'LL GO FORM MY OWN CLUB! ( *bender voice* with blackjack and hookers! ) - so she's like " yep you are way too good for us, I worry if you joined I would be out of a job. goodbye now! " - Cue Mildrew seeing toffee and freaking out trying to go back in but still being really vain ( ' PLEASE LET ME IN I'LL EVEN SIGN YOU AN AUTOGRAPH!!! ' ) - It doesn't work out so he jumps a nearby fence and books it. - Toffee is like what is that awful ringing noise is it this? and then proceeds to ring the doorbell a million times just too ' make sure it's this '. - So Moon opens the finally all like " YES Mildrew what is it- of holy fudging schnitzels " - she accidentally hits it with the door and is apologizing profusely as she goes to help the ' person ' up. - sees its the lizard person and freaks out, bolts and locks the door. - hears it singing a sad song ( more bitter about the people than the original though ) and is like oh it can talk???? also it has a godly voice???? - she gets an umbrella and tentatively opens the door and apologizes and welcomes this creature in out the rain. - he is suspicious but goes in anyway because its better than freezing to death in the rain - so she awkwardly starts conversation " Soo I'm sorry about hitting you with the door and leaving like that, I just got a bit.... panicked. but might as well start with names, mines moon " - and he just kinda sits there and she picks up that ‘oops he doesn't have one’ so she looks around and is like I have to call him something. - then she looks at a box of toffees a fan had given her and is like " Since you don't seem to have a name would you like me to call you toffee? I'm not the best with names but I need to call you something. " - so he goes ok, and she says that if he wants to stay in Paris he should probably have a disguise.

-cut back to river and someone knocks on his door. - he goes and opens it and it reveals officers who see his drawing of the monster in the lab on his wall and he is arrested. - they bring him to mina, and he starts pleading not to go to prison and that it was all an accident. - ( they also brought Chauncey who was staying with River) - he panicking blames the pig and chauncy narrows his eyes as this will be remembered for later.... - Mina tells him not to worry and that by creating a monster he has actually helped her in one of her secret projects and she gives him a badge of honor. - River leaves and then is like "now that I have this badge I have the confidence to go to one of moons shows and maybe I can try and woo her with my badge!" - so he goes to see her and due to the fact that Mildread is still pissed at moon he gives river the best seats in the house cause he is bad at revenge, so river thinks its his lucky day! - he sees the show and was hypnotized by moons song so he decides to push his luck by going to talk to her back stage. - during the time river was being arrested moon got to see a lot of what Toffee could do and who he is;

. he has a pretty wry sense of humor . he is rather naive in the way of society and social cues . he's also really smart and a quick learner . she also gives him his disguise ( his hair isn't a wig ) . he is pretty fuckin' strong . really stubborn . takes a while for him to trust her but when he does he's pretty clingy . he is vain about his hair and constantly brushes it to lay flat, it always curls at the ends anyway. . he REALLY likes suits. and is rather cuddly.

- so the performance is about to start but he doesn't want to leave her side and sit with the band so cue the scene in the movie. - they actually perform and they end up dancing together on stage, and she refuses to admit to her self that her face felt a little warm when he looked at her with such a loving look while dancing. - back to after the performance and river comes over nervously to congratulate her for the awesome performance, and goes to shake toffee's hands when he spots his tail. - he shrieks and moon puts her hand over his mouth and drags him and toffee back to her dressing room. - she tries to tell him that she knows he's the monster and he's not awful at all. - but river starts freaking out so she slaps him and tells him to get a grip man! - he calms down a little but is still like how are you so calm - so moon tells him why toffee is not dangerous and he calms down properly. - unfortunately for them Mildrew overhears and he now has a better idea for revenge against moon...

- the police arrive soon moon leaves to greet them and try to distract them, while river has to hide toffee. - so Moon goes to the door and is like " oh Mina I wasn't expecting you, what are you doing here? " - And Mina's like " sorry mud sister but this is serious business, where are you hiding it? " - and Moons like fuck she already knows its here somewhere. so she plays dumb " hiding what? I don't have anything to hide. " ( as she sweats bullets ) - and Mina already knowing that moons lying just barges through with the inspector and the 'troops' - Mina instantly tries to go to moons dressing room but moon cuts her off " okay Mina I'm sorry but if you go in there we can't  be mud sisters it's a blatant breach of my privacy. " - and Mina calls her bluff and goes in anyway. - Moon is like fuck everything's over they found him... crud. - so when she goes in to make her last stand she is surprised that they are nowhere to be found, and so is Mina. ( surprised that is ) - the inspector comes in and says they haven't found anything so Mina stands silently for a while then goes and pleads to moon to be mud sisters again. - moon still a bit high on adrenaline from then panic says yes just to get her out of the room and they leave after arresting Mildrew for basically pissing Mina off. - moon sighs and says that they can come out and the cost is clear after Mina and the others leave. - she then gets spooked as toffee pops out of her piano, so she lends him a hand and then checks to make sure nothing's broken in her piano. ( storing lizard men in your pianos isn’t a good for pianos kids ) - river then falls down the chimney coughing from all the soot and toffee warily gives him a hand up. ( the start of a beautiful friendship! )

- the next day Mina opens the Montmartre Funicular ( its a escalator/elevator thing on a hill I think ) - the trio ( plus Chauncey ) planned last night that they are going to fake toffee's death on the opening day so people won't look for him and he can live a normal life. - so Mina introduces moon who is going to sing for the opening. - so halfway through singing river loudly shouts " oh my god it's the monster oooh nooo! " - so the crowd starts panicking and Mina is like ' It’s my time to shine! ' - then Toffee hops down and picks up moon bridal style and roars viciously - and moon is all like " oh noooo it's got me, whatever shall I do? " - one of the 'soldiers' tries to shoot toffee but Mina tells him not to as he could hit her blood sister. - then she remembers that river had conveniently given some ' anti monster grenade ' earlier so she throws it and smoke spreads everywhere. - when the smoke clears the monster is gone and the crowd rejoices their savior (the crowd lead by river and moon of course ) - but then Mina spots a scarf caught in the trapdoor and opens it to reveal toffee.

- moon freaks out so her and river shout at toffee to run, as they themselves make a break for it. - river had conveniently brought his dads car/van to get there ( with his dad's permission of course ) so they hopped in and booked it as toffee went the other way so there would be less people chasing him. - luckily Chauncey had already been waiting in the car so they didn't need to wait for him to get in. - so they speed down the street narrowly avoiding obstacles, one of which ended up making river loose his ' fashionable ' straw coat to a horse. - unfortunately for them a hook ends up grabbing their car and they look up and who is it other than Mina and an exhausted looking soldier peddling their FREAKING AIRSHIP LIKE MINA YOU REALLY DIDN'T NEED A WHOLE FUC- - so moon has to climb out and try and get rid of it cause river is driving. - unfortunately for her it's way to heavy and she almost ends up falling off several times, but fortunately ( finally something good for these poor characters ) toffee was making his getaway very near to them so he hopped down on the cars bonnet to help moon pull off the hook. - but because things can never be easy it doesn't work and Mina ends up lifting the car off the ground. ( also moon falls back onto toffee's chest, cue blushy blushy BS when they think back on this at a later date,a scenario which I have obviously not written ) - so they are currently panicking as moon and toffee precariously make their way back inside the van so when they inevitably fall they won’t be as injured. - so Mina drops them in to the seine to try and drown toffee, currently forgetting that her mud sister ( however traitorous she may be ) was in there. - luckily when they start sinking river's father had been planning a boating trip so he had oars in the back. - they paddle to the Eiffel tower before they drown and make it, only loosing River's dad's car along the way. which in the end maybe worse than drowning in the long run. ( for River at least )

- river mourns the car and they make their way up the tower unsure what to really do now other than try and get as far away from Mina as possible. - Mina shoots the airship and she lands on the Eiffel tower, the soldier only just making it out alive by jumping into the seine. - the trio reaches the top when toffee starts to feel weak and moon notices that a lot of his scales are falling off, and she gets worried but slings his arm over her shoulder and asks river to help her carry him to the top. - they are almost at the top when they are stopped when moon placed toffee down for a bit to rest her arms and she hears a gun click. - Mina demands they hand over the monster and toffee makes a run for it up a ladder to the very top of the tower, so Mina brushes harshly past moon to run after toffee. - unfortunately for moon she was standing too close to an edge and got pushed over but managed to grab the edge. - so river goes to try and help moon but somehow also falls over, hanging only onto a spare belt he tried to lower down. ( hey it’s always handy to have a spare belt y’know? ) - luckily they forgot Chauncey was there because he was trailing behind them the whole way up the tower, so he pulls them both up and moon rushes for the ladder after hugging River and Chauncey. - River goes up too but a bit slower and more careful, after almost falling to his death he didn’t really wanna take another chance after all. - Moon goes up there only to see toffee get shot by Mina and fall to a lower level. - before Mina can look over and make sure he's dead the police inspector comes over and arrests her after the ‘soldier’ who was peddling the airship called the other police officers to arrest Mina for leaving him for dead. - moon vaguely sees this but doesn't stick around long, she rushes back down past river (who had only just gotten up here) to find where toffee fell. - she only found his clothes and no body. - It doesn't really register that he could have escaped because of the shock so she just cries - river finds her and comforts her and she brings the clothes back to her dressing room as to not forget him.

- the next day she realizes she has to perform but she is still overcome by grief, so she picks up his scarf to at least wear if she has to perform when she feels wiggling. - she carefully unwinds the scarf and inside there is a lizard. a lizard missing its middle finger. - overwhelmed by joy she tells river and him and Chauncey go to get a potion that will turn him back to his bipedal form permanently. - so he turns back and after hugging him really hard and him apologizing ( what for though? upsetting her? IDK ask him ) she asks if he wants to go sing with her and he says yes. - they perform and at the almost end of the dance she kisses him, just a light peck but a kiss none the less. - river is semi-heart broken yet had kind of seen it coming for a while now. - and toffee goes beet red as the crowd whistles. - while her mum squeals that her baby had finally found a partner! - END

Notes + extras

- Moon cuts off toffees finger when she was cooking with him at one point but then constantly apologizes for it later, he of course forgives her but she does it anyway and he likes making little jokes and jabs at her about it. - Although when we first see River it looks like he's bad with the cold due to the amount of clothes he's wearing, he is actually really good with the cold and was constantly almost overheating but wanted to impress moon with clothing items that his friends told him were cool. of course they weren't very cool all in one outfit. - when toffee first transformed he got his hair, he doesn't know where from but he thinks there may have been some hair on the floor when he got hit by the potion. - Moon takes star's role as Mina's mud sister since star isn't here in this AU. - cause river was distracted when he was watching moon performance before he knew toffee he didn't see the way they ( moon + toffee ) looked at each other but looking back he can definitely see 'it'.  ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) - due to the potion making toffee human it also increased his regenerative ability from being a lizard to new heights ( for example, if an ant were human sized it would have super strength ) (( no this doesn’t really come into play into the story )) - after the kiss on stage Toffee and moon share another kiss in her dressing room ( nothing like that get your mind out of the gutter! ) - Chauncey was staying with River before he got arrested because when he left the lab scared he brought him so he wouldn't get hurt but then was too shy to give him back to Moon. - Mina calls the police her ' troops ' in reference to the solarian warriors. possibly why no one wants her as mayor...

[kumkaniudaku]

Daddy Duty: Three

<< Previous Chapter

Loud and confusing music beat against the doors of the Reagan Room at the Hilton Santa Barbara as you stepped into the hallway to take a break. When Yvonne told you that she needed your help for an “upscale” wedding, you expected a quiet time with fine cuisine. Instead, you were met with the bridal party from Hell. What started as a beautiful ceremony shifted into an all out rager complete with a near brawl during cocktail hour, a groomsman being escorted out of the venue and the most annoying EDM music known to man.

Taking a deep breath, you checked the time on your phone.

“You have got to be fuckin’ kidding me! How in the hell is it only 7:04?” With knowledge of the time, you began to worry. Chadwick hadn’t called, texted or sent a picture of what was going on at home. You wrestled with yourself for several moments before unlocking your phone and dialing your husband’s number.

The phone rang...and then it rang...then it rang some more until Chadwick’s voicemail box started up. Waiting impatiently for the option to record the message, you tapped your foot against the carpet.

“Hey, baby. I’m just calling to see if everyone is okay. I know you probably have everything under control.” You paused for a moment to think of something else to say. It felt foolish to leave such a short message after all the trouble you went through. “Did Noah eat the peaches? I hope he liked them. Don’t forget that I put his bathing tub in the laundry room closet after I cleaned it. Micah is gonna fight it, but take her braids down. You remember how to do it, right? Um...I miss you guys! And I love you. Call me back when you get a chance. Bye.”

You reluctantly tapped the red button to end the call and stared at your phone. It was unusual for Chadwick not to answer, especially considering the circumstances. Your manicured finger hovered his name in the recent call log to try again until the growing noise of the reception interrupted you.

“There you are,” Yvonne huffed. “Girl, the bride is requesting that we switch the seating arrangements again. We gotta move Aunt Beatrice away from Uncle Jebediah, but not too close to Cousin Lydia.”

“What? We just moved Aunt Beatrice away from Conrad from next door because they aren’t seeing eye to eye right now!”

“With them thick ass sunglasses on, Conrad ain’t seeing shit right now.”

“Yeah, you right,” you mumbled. Both of you took a moment to mentally laugh at the image of the two elderly people arguing despite not being able to properly see each other in the dim lighting of the reception hall. Your mind took a turn and began to drift into the memory of Noah going back and forth with Chadwick though he was months away from speaking his first words. The gurgling responses after Chadwick would accuse Noah of purposely crying to take your away during an intimate moment never failed to ma-.

“Tasha,” Yvonne called, snapping you out of your trance. “Hurry up! We don’t have that much time!”

As much as it pained you to leave without having a response from home, you couldn’t disappear when your best friend needed you. Taking one last weary look at your phone, you begrudgingly trotted off to play referee.

                                  _____________

“Where in the hell is his tub?”

Chadwick stood in the master bathroom opening and closing cabinets for the fifth time in search of Noah’s bathing tub. In the three hours since the lunch disaster, he’d learned a few things about his children. 

Micah was a child that could talk about everything and nothing at the same time for hours. She did not care if you responded or seemed to be listening. If she had a thought, she planned to get it out.

Conversely, Noah only spoke when he felt like someone was talking to him. If the room was quiet, he had no problem following suit. Unfortunately, with Micah’s unceasing commentary, he babbled quite often. Noah was also active and curious, which made for no naps for either child and a deliriously tired Chadwick.

After a call to his mother for help, she suggested baths for both children to wind them down and prepare the atmosphere for relaxation. The idea was amazing, but, without the proper materials, Chadwick couldn’t continue his quest for rest.

“I gotta call Co,” he mumbled to himself, reaching in the pocket of his sweatpants for his phone. Expecting to feel the smooth surface of his iPhone, Chadwick was surprised to find the device missing from its usual spot. He went through a quick patting routine in search of his phone before whipping his head around the bathroom to scan for the missing item. “Micah! Where did you put my phone?”

A split second of silence preceded the violent sloshing of water tipping over the edge of the bathtub for the third time. Noah giggled at the sound from his bouncer in the center of the room, the sound taunting his father. Micah emerged from her “mermaid adventure” soaking wet with goggles covering her eyes.

“Mmmm, I dunno. Did you look in your pocket?”

“Did I...yes. I checked my pockets,” he explained. “You had it to play Angry Birds. Where did you put it?”

“I gave it back! I think…”

Chadwick sighed in frustration and ran his fingers through his disheveled coils. There was no point in going back and forth with a six year old to determine the whereabouts of his phone. For all he knew, it was at the bottom of the pool to return no more. Besides, that was the least of his worries. He still needed to figure out how to bathe Noah.

“Alright, baby girl, go ahead and get out of the tub. Did you bathe?”

“Yep!”

He sensed some hesitation in her answer, “Everywhere?”

“Yep!”

“Even the way Mommy taught you?”

“Uhhhh…”

“Take a bath, Noelle,” he deadpanned. “When I come back, you need to be done.”

Micah mumbled a slow ‘yes sir’ as Chadwick turned to lift Noah from his portable baby boncepod.

The five minute search through Noah’s bedroom didn’t produce his bathing tub, forcing Chadwick to come up with another solution. After all, there weren’t always fancy tubs to clean babies. After ensuring the Micah was clean and dressed for bed, he gave her a few instructions.

“Listen, Princess, I need you to do Daddy a favor.” Any opportunity to help her father excited the six-year old, leading to an eager head nod. “I need you to close the door and sit outside while Daddy cleans your brother.”

“But why do I have to sit outside? Mommy always lets me watch!”

“I know, but Daddy’s gonna do it a little different this time. So, I need you to play with your toys in our room. Can you do that for me?”

“Can I play with my dolls on the bed?” She knew that action was forbidden when you were home and wanted to test the limits in your absence. It worked in her favor. A tired daddy was willing to do anything for a few moments of obedience.

“Anything you want. Just, please, stay in the bedroom. Okay?”

“Yes, sir!”

Her small and ashy feet hit pattered across the soaking wet tile and across the carpet to recruit her legion of Barbies for the party on her parents’ California king. With one child taken care of, Chadwick moved to take care of Noah.

“Alright, AJ, we gon’ do this old school.”

Stripping his son of his onesie and diaper, Chadwick made quick work of preparing both of them for a shower. In his mind, he’d bathe two boys at once to cut down on the amount of time spent in the bathroom.

After checking the temperature of the water and adjusting the shower head pressure, Chadwick stepped into the shower holding his baby boy close to his chest. The soothing lather of the gentle baby soap and the warm water sliding down his smooth skin did its best to lull Noah into sleep. Through his yawns and dropping lids, he tried to fight his natural urge to close his eyes.

“C’mon, son, go to sleep. It’s okay.” Chadwick was pleading at this point, hoping for half of his offspring to grant him mercy. Noah offered a small yawn in return as he peered up his father.

Despite the hell and high water from earlier in the day, Chadwick smiled down at his baby. Both of his children had taught him so much about life and what it meant to love and be loved. Their unconditional love coupled with your’s kept him going when he was nearing the end of his rope. No matter how many times he had to clean up messes, listen to endless stories about fictional characters, or deal with the foul aftermath of a fruit filled lunch, he wouldn’t trade his current situation for the world.

Hearing Micah giggle in the other room reminded Chadwick that he had a task to complete. Juggling Noah in one had, Chadwick took care of his routine before exiting the shower to get dressed and clean the water from the floor. 

He was surprised to find Micah where she was supposed to be, splitting her attention between two dolls as she combed their hair. That reminded him of your earlier instructions. He had to take down dozens of slim cornrows before he could attempt to get some rest. His only saving grace was that Noah was drifting into a peaceful slumber. Attempting to lay him down on your side of the bed turned into an all out war. The months of cradling him to sleep came back to bite Chadwick in the ass when Noah made it impossible for him to be let go of. He clung to Chadwick’s t-shirt with all of his strength until he won the battle.

“AJ, why are you doing this to me,” Chadwick whined in the middle of another round of trying to put him down. Noah didn’t budge, forcing his father to figure out another plan.

“Daddy, Mommy says you have to do my hair.”

“Yes, my little tape recorder, I know.”

“What’s a tape recorder?”

“Don’t worry about it. Come here.”

                              _______________

Minutes turned into hours as the moon took its rightful place in the night sky and, still, there was no word on your family’s well-being. You had called, sent text messages, Instagram DMs, and whatever other means of communication you could find, but there was no response.

You’d traded in the form fitting black dress and heels for a dingy Sparks t-shirt and pajama shorts to wind down for the night. Sitting on the couch with Yvonne in the spacious rental home’s living room, you sipped wine and stared at the wall thinking about all of the dangerous plaguing that could be your babies at that very moment.

“Did you see the keg stand after garter was tossed? Why pay $30,000 for a wedding if you gon’ do a keg stand in your good clothes? White people need guidance,” looking over to you, she noticed your attention was elsewhere. “Tasha, relax. Drink this expensive ass red wine and eat this leftover dip. They really had dip at their wedding. The ghetto!”

“What if they aren’t safe, ‘Vonne. He hasn’t answered me all day!”

“Sounds to me like you don’t trust your man to take care of his kids for a day.” Yvonne gave you a look over the rim of her glass, earning a shocked expression from you.

“That’s not true! I trust him!”

“Then, hush! Finish this bottle, watch Tyler Perry plays and go to bed. Chadwick got all that shit under control.”

You thought for a moment. If you continued to call and worry, you were sending a message to your husband that you didn’t trust him. That was the last thing you wanted to do to him. You were confident in his ability to his care for his own children. God forbid anything ever happen to you, that would be his sole responsibility. You had to give him the space to “prove” himself.

Catching Yvonne’s amused twinkle in her eye, you smiled and grabbed the bottle on the coffee table. “Let’s start with Meet the Browns. You know that’s my shit.”

____________

“Ouch, Daddy! That hurt!”

Chadwick drew his hand back to run it over his face. He knew it would be difficult to undo braids with one free hand a fussy baby in his arms, but he never imagined it would turn into the spectacle in front of him.

Micah lay with her head across his lap, flinching away from Chadwick if he so much as looked at her head. What he thought would take 30 minutes at the most turned into an hour long affair. Even worse, he was barely halfway done.

“Baby girl, you gotta be still. If you keep moving, I’m gonna pull your hair.”

“But it hurts. Mommy doesn’t hurt my head when she does it.”

“Yeah,” he smiled, rubbing his hands over her loose section of hair. “Mommy’s good at stuff like this. She’s good at everything.” Pushing the wide tooth detangling comb out of the way and pulling the covers back, he made room in the space beside him. “Let’s take a break, Princess. We can finish in the morning. Come on up here.”

Micah drug her body to the top of the bed, wasting no time as she snuggled into her father’s side to lay her head on his chest. A small yawn forced its way past her lips for the first time all day. Chadwick placed a kiss on top of her head and ran his hands up and down her arm, warming the cotton fabric of her night shirt.

Several moments of relative silence hung in the air; the low murmurs of cartoon conversation playing from the television in the background.

“I miss Mommy,” Micah spoke, breaking the silence and gaining Chadwick’s attention.

“Me too, baby girl. Try to go to sleep. By the time you wake up, she’ll be right here to sing the good morning song.”

She sleepily nodded to acknowledge Chadwick’s statement before reaching over to rub Noah’s back. The baby’s pacifier bobbed in his mouth as he stirred from his sleep, calming down once he found comfort against Chadwick’s shoulder.

“Good night, Noey,” Micah whispered with her eyes fluttering closed. “Good night, Daddy. I love you.”

Her skinny arms wrapped around Chadwick’s torso as far as they could while she nuzzled her face into his side.

He looked between his perfect angels and placed a kiss on each of their foreheads. “I love you, too, baby girl. Good night.”

The light from the television became the only light in the room, providing the perfect atmosphere for a much needed slumber.

                                    ____________

In Santa Barbara, over 80 miles away, you lay awake in the midnight hour. Your best efforts to relax and enjoy your mini vacation did nothing to overpower the worry clouding your mind. Counting sheep was futile and the alcohol failed at its one job to act as a sleep aid. It’d been years since you slept without someone by your side, and months since there wasn’t at least one tiny copy of you nestled in the sheets between two adult bodies. The thoughts of your family tormented your mind until you couldn’t take it.

You had to go.

Slipping on your slides and gathering your belongings, you tip toed out of your room and into the living room. Scribbling a note to Yvonne and leaving money on the coffee table for the breakfast you promised to pay for, you hurried to your Range Rover to start the two hour journey back home.

You raced down 101 South, singing and praying to stay awake while your drove. Every twenty minutes, you would try to reach Chadwick again, sighing in defeat when he didn’t answer. As you neared the exit to get you closer to your upper class neighborhood, you prepared yourself for the absolute worst. At two in the morning, there was no telling what kind of horrors sat behind the front door of your home.

The scramble to undo your seatbelt and bolt for the front door was filled with stomach churning apprehension. Pushing the front door open after using your key to unlock it, you were met with pitch black darkness and silence.

“Chadwick,” you called from your place in the foyer, receiving no answer.

The flashlight of your cell phone illuminated your path as you searched the first level of the house for any sign of life. Most things looked to be in their usual spot, accept the cell phone glowing blue with new notifications on the living room’s bookcase.

Grabbing it and one of Micah’s kindergarten trophies, you took careful steps through the house to the stairs. If necessary, you were prepared to exercise the fragment of martial arts training you learned from your husband.

Micah’s room was the first to be searched. Your heart rate quickened when you found her bed empty of her lanky frame. A scan of Noah’s room yielded the same result.

With one more room left, you allowed the sound of the television to guide you. With a deep breath, you pushed open the cracked door to peek inside the room. You could’ve melted into floor at the sight in front of you.

The soft glow from the Spongebob episode illuminated the touching scene in front of you, warming your body with a rush of emotions.

Chadwick lay in the center of the bed as he held both children close to his body. Micah clung to the space under his arm while Noah subtly moved up and down on his chest with every breath. The love of your life was absolutely exhausted with his mouth open to release the heavy breaths accompanying his light snores.

Walking over to the bed, you ran your fingers across Chadwick’s knuckles before reaching to grab Noah from his arms. Your attempt was stopped when Chadwick locked his arms around the infant and popped open one eye.

The other one opened to reveal a crazed and tired look as he fought to recognize your face. When he came to, his eyes softened and a drowsy smile curved the corner of his mouth.

“Hey, baby,” he rasped. “Is it the morning already?”

“Sort of. It’s 2:15.”

“2:15? Is something wrong? Did somebody die?” He allowed you to slide Noah from his grasp.

“No one is dead, baby. May I?” Chadwick granted your request by shifting in the bed to make space for you while you shimmied out of your jacket. The cool sheets hitting your skin mixed with the individual scents of your family. Chadwick took the opportunity to hug you close to him and rest his head on your chest. “How was it today?”

“It was...it was good.” Chadwick’s voice went up an octave, indicating that he was being less than honest.

“They kicked you ass didn’t they.”

“Oh my God, I want to sleep for three days. Who knew my little girl could talk so much? And AJ! Why does he shit like a grown man? What are you feeding my son with these beautiful titties?”

You were forced to stifle a giggle to refrain from waking up the children. “But you made it, and I’m proud of you.”

“Thank you, baby. Please, don’t ever leave us again. At the very least, leave some instructions.”

“I won’t,” you laughed before kissing his forehead. “I won’t.”

Chadwick hummed his approval and tightened his grip on your waist. You listened for a moment to the breathing of the three pieces of your heart, smiling as they breathed in sync. The love oozing from heart was enough to fill the pool in the backyard three times over and it brought you to happy tears.

It was unlikely that you’d never leave them at home for work or play, but there was one thing you were sure of: through all the travels and fun, there was no place you’d rather be than wrapped in your family’s arms.  

                                 ____________

TAGS: @njadont @k-michaelis @wakandanmoonchild @idilly @texasbama @afraiddreamingandloving @inxan-ity @daytimeheroicsonly @onyour-right @brianabreeze @sisterwifeudaku @ironsquad @killmongerdispussy @90sinspiredgirl @willowtree77785901 @maynardqueen101 @heyauntieeee @halfrican-heat @purple-apricots @lalapalooza718 @blue-ishx @profilia @ljstraightnochaser @girl-wtf-lmao @dramaqueenamby @royallyprincesslilly @melaninmarvel @thiccdaddy-mbaku@lavitabella87 @purplehairgawdess @unholyxcumbucket  @airis-paris14 @uhlxis @oshasimone @maliadestiny​ @drsunshine97​ @cozyshack2​ @zxddy-panther​ @queentearra​ @skysynclair19​ @retro-melanin​ @mermaidchansons​ @misspooh​ @melanisticroyalty​ @babygirlofwakanda​ @wakanda-4evr​ @sarahboseman​ @karensraisns​ @blackmissmarvel​ @wakandankings​ @kaykay4454fan​ @ororowrites​ @awkwardlyabstract​ @mixedmelanin​ @brownsugarcocoabutterwildflowers​ @sunflowerpsalms​ @panthergoddessbast​ @justanotherloveaffair​ @jaeee-http​ @iliketowrite1996​ @blackpantherismyish​ @thompettiedatheaux​ @msincognito67​ @reignsxjackson​ @yaachtynoboat711​ @syreanne​ @ilcb7​ @minim236

[fuck-bowers]

Opposites Attract (Henry Bowers x Reader)

request: the reader is really shy (like me) and she has a huge crush on Henry. Henry finds out one day that she has a crush on him, and he teases and flirts with her and does sexual things to her until he gets her to crack and admit her feelings for him. then Henry asks her to be his girlfriend.

a/n: thank you for the request @kaitlinp0rrini, and I hope you enjoy it! this is the cheesiest thing I’ve ever written

It all started when Clark Freeman, number 52 on the Derry High football team, got tripped by Henry Bowers in the first floor hallway in between class periods five and six. You’d been standing by your locker, organizing your papers for science class, when you saw it go down.

Clark was a complete asshole, not only to you, but to everybody around him, one of those popular jocks who thrived on thinking the world revolved around him. No one had ever challenged that idea before. Henry seemed to take it into his own hands to fulfill such a task single-handedly, while walking towards the cocky quarterback one fateful Monday afternoon.

You’d heard a rumor that the whole football team had a secret fear of the Bowers gang, a club of four delinquents that made games out of terrorizing their peers. You’d never thought much of them, until you turned around and saw a flash of a letterman jacket fly to the floor before you.

Clark gasped as he turned around to see the perpetrator of the crime - Henry Bowers in the flesh, turning around to look at his victim with a sneer.

You froze, anticipating to be in the VIP section of the fight of the century, but saw nothing of the sort transpire.

Clark scrambled to his feet, keeping his eyes on Henry, giving a death glare that was undermined by his body language.

“You wanna fuckin’ go, Bowers?” He asked, though it seemed he didn’t want to know the answer, as he scurried away without another look behind him.

You couldn’t help but start to laugh. It wasn’t something you did often - you were extremely shy, and hated drawing too much attention to yourself. However, it was just too funny. You fucking hated a majority of the football team, it was chock-full of assholes like Clark. Finally, you saw one of them get a taste of their own medicine.

The other witnesses around you looked just as shocked, just as amused, but you were the only one to outright laugh, granting you the momentarily undivided attention of Henry himself.

His eyes locked with yours, and before you could nervously look away, he spoke.

“Somethin’ funny, sweetheart?” Henry questioned with the ghost of a smile. Your eyes widened as his scanned over you, making eye contact once again before stalking off.

That’s all it took for you to develop a crush on the most dangerous boy in school.

Patrick Hockstetter loved people watching.

People watching at Derry High was like studying an ant farm. Students and teachers scattered mindlessly wherever they needed to go, and interacted with each other for arbitrary reasons, and all looked so normal until you picked just one to study and tried to figure out its motives.

Of course, it was never very hard to do, but it was a way to pass the time far better than paying attention to the teacher.

One day in science class, Patrick picked you as a specimen.

Quiet people were usually the most interesting to watch, and were always the best fucks - you were even one of the more attractive girls in that class - but the potential of developing even remote interest in you hinged on whether or not you were entertaining to observe.

You were very entertaining, much more than he anticipated, but not because of your unconscious mannerisms - you’d kept your eyes on Henry for a majority of the class period.

Henry attracted many girls, but Patrick noticed that they were a particular type of girl. The loud, raucous ones, or the dangerous, wild ones made up his fan club. Very rarely would the quiet librarian type develop feelings for him, or at least make it as obvious as you made it, without using words.

Only at the end of class did you turn and notice Patrick staring at you one row over. Face reddening, you looked down as the bell rang, folding your textbook into your arms and walking out of the classroom in a rush.

Henry approached Patrick, hands in his pockets.

“We goin’ downtown today?” He asked, apparently completely oblivious of how you’d stared at him all period. Patrick smiled slyly.

“Sure thing, Henry.”

Patrick intended on telling about you later that night, but that evening he’d completely forgot by the time the Bowers gang was huddled around a table at Barry’s Burgers, and it had completely slipped his mind.

“You guys should’ve fucking seen it.” Henry laughed, taking a bite of his burger. “He fell like a ton of fucking bricks, and ran the fuck away like the pussy he is. It was hilarious.”

The guys laughed with him.

“I would’ve fucking paid to see that. Did any teachers catch you? They basically worship the football team.” Vic sarcastically questioned.

Henry shook his head. “Not this time. Thank fuck. I’ve had enough bad shit with teachers.”

“You had an audience though, right?”

A nod. “Yeah, everyone looked fucking thankful I did it. This girl from my chem class burst out laughing when I did it, like, loud, and she’s one of those quiet girls. He must’ve fucked her over or something.”

Patrick immediately perked up.

“What?”

Henry blinked, taking another bite before his reply and talking as he chewed. “Everyone was happy I tripped that little bitch. You guys should’ve been there. It was like, two months ago.”

“You said a girl was there?”

Henry smiled when he thought of you. He swallowed.

“Yeah, I think her name is Y/N? She’s in our science class. She was there when I tripped him, and she laughed out loud about it. He must’ve fucked her over or something. Or she just hates him like everyone else. Surprised more people didn’t laugh. He’s such a dick.”

Patrick smiled.

“That’s interesting.”

Henry scoffed. “What, have you met Clark? Cuz-”

“Do you like that girl?”

Henry had thought you were hot since the beginning of the year, but had a feeling you were one of those out-of-reach girls, either with a boyfriend, or with standards too high for the head of the Bowers gang, much less any of the other members. Henry rarely attracted shy girls, and he was positive that he’d never heard a single peep out of you before the day he tripped Clark.

“She’s a babe.” Henry said, furrowing his brow at Patrick. “Why?”

Patrick had gained the attention of Vic and Belch, and the whole table stared at him.

“That girl’s totally in love with you. She spent the whole fucking period today staring at you.”

Henry blinked, perplexed, trying to imagine you doing such a thing without him noticing.

“How the fuck would you know?” He asked, nearly insulted.

“I had nothing to fuckin’ do, and I looked around the room and I saw she was fucking staring at you, like, the whole period. Like a freak.”

“Don’t fucking insult her man, you’re a freak.”

“Fuck you.“

Henry had already known about Patrick’s tendency to people-watch. Maybe he was telling the truth. There was no reason for him to lie anyway, and Henry had caught you looking at him a few times.

As Vic and Belch picked up a conversation, the gears in Henry’s head began to turn, and he smiled, turning to his best friend.

“Well, thanks, Pat. I think I’ll put it to the test.”

Patrick rolled his eyes. “You really don’t fuckin’ trust me?”

“I do. I just wanna see how right you are.”

It was perfect, it really was - on most days, you’d sit with desks about two feet apart. On testing days, they’d be even farther apart, sometimes positioned in random opposing directions - but due to an upcoming project, Mrs. Baxter was sure to separate people into partners for the week ahead. Fifteen minutes before the end of class that Friday, Mrs. Baxter began her weekly process.

The two of you had never been paired before. Henry knew full well it was time to strike.

“I think I’ll pair you with Roger this week, Calvin… and Y/N…” the teacher glanced around the room, until she spotted Henry with raised eyebrows, as well as a raised hand.

“Yes, Henry?”

“I’ll be her partner.” He volunteered.

Your heart nearly did a backflip. What was he doing?

Though it caught you off guard, you weren’t about to turn down such an offer.

You swallowed and nodded at a crossed-brow Mrs. Baxter.

“Yeah. We’ve never been partnered up before.” You added. Henry shot a smug glance at you from the back of the room.

“Alright.” She said, moving onto the next student.

It was the protocol to go to your partner and talk about the study guide, start going over the first page if you had the time. As you turned to look at the boy you’d been partnered with, it seemed that he wasn’t going anywhere. You’d have to go to him.

You stood up, your textbook and your notebook wrapped in your arms, nervously walking towards his seat in the last row. You passed Patrick Hockstetter, who wore quite an ominous smirk, staring at you intently. Shifting your gaze to the floor, you continued, looking up only once more to see Henry.

His stare sent waves of butterflies through your stomach, blue eyes bearing the same sly grin that his lips did. He probably loved how nervous you were.

The end of class was near. You could do this.

For a minute, neither of you spoke. Mrs. Baxter reminded everyone of the test date, the material being tested on, and asked everyone to become familiar with their partner and inquire about study sessions outside of class, if possible. No one ever met up for science studies.

Finally, it was silent, and she momentarily left the room, everyone breaking into conversation.

Another moment passed, your mind racing for something to say, wondering if you should say anything at all. That’s when he spoke.

“My friend Patrick said you stare at me a lot in class.”

It felt like your ribs caught fire. You stared down at your paper, embarrassment washing over you. Thanks for that, Patrick.

You swallowed before speaking, organizing your messy thoughts, flipping open your notebook to distract yourself.

You could feel him staring at you merely inches away.

“W-Well, I don’t. He must’ve gotten me mixed up with someone else.”

Henry leaned back in his seat. “You can admit it, babe, a lot of girls are obsessed with me.”

Immediately, you scoffed, underlining sentences of your notes randomly. You refused to look at him.

“I’m not obsessed with you.” You quietly remarked.

“Then why do you stare at me in class?”

You shrugged. “Patrick lied to you.”

“Why would he lie about that?”

You finally turned to him, and your anger was offset by his jovial, entertained expression.

“Patrick is crazy.” You said, as-a-matter-of-factly.

Henry cocked an eyebrow, looking at his nails. 

“I dunno, Y/N. Crazy people stare at other people in class. I’ve never caught Patrick staring at me.”

You let out a sarcastic laugh. “He was staring at me the other day!”

Henry smirked. “Sounds like a match made in heaven. Two crazy people.”

The boy looked at your lips, making you nervous all over again. You turned back to your notes and flipped open the study guide.

“You don’t talk too much, do you?” He teased in a low voice. His voice turned you on.

You hesitated a moment before replying. “You never talk in this class, either.”

“Well, I fucking hate science. Is that your excuse, too?”

The fact that the guy you’d developed a crush on months ago was finally flirting with you now was a high you’d ride out until it died.

“Yeah, science sucks. But… I mean, my friends all say I’m shy. So I guess I really am just shy.”

After a moment of hesitation, you suddenly felt his hand on your knee.

Goosebumps spread over your skin, from your legs up to your back. Henry smiled at you, tracing his nails over your kneecap.

“You’re not being too shy with me, today.” He said.

Your cheeks must’ve been bright red, your heart beating a million miles per hour.

“Neither are you.” You nervously joked.

Mrs. Baxter had left the room. None of the kids facing forward remotely seemed to notice Henry’s advances. At least you didn’t have an audience.

His fingertips gently trailed up your thigh, going further up and further inside. He tightly grasped your leg, making you gasp.

You put your elbow on the table and rested your face against your hand, covering your face from his view.

“I can’t help myself. You’re so fucking hot.”

The compliment made your heart flutter, but also put a bad taste in your mouth. He was probably one of the boys you’d been warned about by your parents and the TV shows - saying anything to butter you up and get in your pants.

Please let the bell ring, you mentally pleaded with the clock on the wall, edging closer to the end of class, his fingers edging the hem of your skirt.

Though part of you absolutely loved the attention, the pursuit from the guy you’d wanted it from most, you were so nervous, so unsure of what to do. Mrs. Baxter reentered the room, and seemed completely oblivious, sitting down at her desk. She was probably used to ignoring Henry.

“Why are you doing this?” You asked, in a nervous yet enthused, moving your arm back down to rest on the table. You didn’t have to look at him to know that he was smiling.

“Cuz I know you like me.”

You rolled your eyes, still turned away from him. “I told you Patrick was lying.”

“Even if he was, I know you still like me.”

You finally turned to look at him.

“How?” You sarcastically questioned. He answered you very simply.

“Because opposites attract, sweetheart.”

Your nerves were at an all time high as he gently moved his hand in between your thighs, ever so slowly, the eye contact single-handedly killing you - right as the bell rang.

“The study guide is due Monday!” Mrs. Baxter said, almost pleading, as the room broke into loud conversation and laughter. In the midst of it all, you quickly stood up, grabbing your books and walking away with them in a rush. Your only goal was to get out of the school as fast as possible, leaving Henry in the dust.

You felt scared, so exhilarated, and you knew there was no real reason for it - but he was too bold, too terrifying, to have anything to do with you.

You threw your books into your backpack and speed-walked out the door, melting into the throng of students moving through the hallway. Within minutes of urgently flowing through the crowd, you made it out the front doors, and finally you felt the first waves of calm. That was, until someone gripped your shoulder.

“Y/N!” Henry Bowers groaned, in an exasperated tone. You nearly jumped, turning around with wide eyes to see him. He was breathing heavily.

“I’m sorry.” He said.

You didn’t expect him to follow you. For a moment, you just stared at him.

“For what?” You asked.

“I think I scared you off.”

You took in a slow breath, unsure of how to phrase your concern.

“I like you, Henry. I just think we’re too different.”

Other students passed by, but the two of you barely noticed, completely focused on the other.

“Sure, we’re pretty different, but it’d be boring if we were the same.”

You looked up at him, blinking in the sunlight. He stepped closer.

“I like you. A lot. And if Patrick wasn’t lying about you starin’ at me, I wanna take a chance on that.”

He smiled, putting his hands into his pockets. You were surprised how he seemed so… Nervous.

“Do you…” He picked up his gaze from the ground and looked at you. “Do you wanna go out?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, hiding all signs of mental explosion that you experienced.

“You mean, hang out after school to study for our test?” You coyly questioned, cocking an eyebrow, unable to hide your growing grin.

“Do you wanna be my girlfriend?” He finally asked, smiling back at you.

He was bold, he was terrifying, but you couldn’t say you didn’t like those things about him. It was true - you had no idea how well you'd do on the test - but you knew for sure in that moment, he’d proven to you that opposites attract.

Holding eye contact, the two of you beamed at each other.

“Of course.” You quietly replied.

[wackygoofball]

“i can’t believe you dropped the frog we’re dissecting on tHE FLOOR WHAT THE FUCK” - jaime x brienne

I can’t believe you made me write a 16k frog fic, yet, here we are, yet, here it is, @imagineagreatadventure !!! Though I took the liberty to change part of the prompt to remove them from high school because that doesn’t fit with the ages.

In any case, enjoy … or if not, please don’t shame me for it, LOL.

*flies away*

Freddy the Frog

“Jaime, we aresupposed to dissect this frog – notplay with it!” Brienne snarls, going back over the charts another time in thevain hope that Jaime is finally done fooling around instead of moving on withthe task of dissecting the animal in order to figure out its cause of death.

While Brienne couldimagine more pleasant tasks than that, it is a necessary deed for their survey.If the frog died because of the injection, the whole project may be in danger.However, Jaime Lannister seemingly doesn’t see the severity of the situationand instead loves to fool around regardless of the circumstance.

Brienne is countingthe days from now on. Soon, the survey will be over. They will have gatheredthe results, and after that, she will be free of the shackles of being stuckwith Jaime Fuckin’ Lannister, lab partner and pest at the same time, whose onepurpose beside being his snarky self seems to be to bring her to the breakingpoint.

And he is damn well close to achieving the latter.

“Don’t be sodisrespectful,” she adds.

Brienne was neverparticularly fond of doing those kinds of tests. She would rather do withouttesting on animals, but apparently, this kind of frogs contain a naturalantidote to the Shaking Sickness. If the last survey goes well, the institutecan apply for a bigger budget to run a large-scale test series.

However, that is not going to work if the frogssuddenly die for no known reason, Brienne thinks to herself, gritting her teeth.

“I am not being disrespectful,” Jaime argues. “You want to tear him apart!”

“That is what we have to do from time to time in the course of theexperiments we do. And I honestly can’t believe I have to point that out to aman who apparently holds a degree and has been studying just those frogs andtheir antidote for just as long as I did,” Brienne retorts angrily, readjustingher rubber gloves.

“But it’s a poorlittle frog. Look at him!” Jaime insists, pointing at the green-yellow amphibianwith brown dots, lying on the metal plate before them.

“We are supposed todissect it in order to find out how it died, to be sure that it was not part ofthe antidote extraction that caused its death. We are already far behindschedule and I would rather not prolong this any longer than necessary out of respect for that animal’s life. But we keeplosing time because you rather screw around with it. So let’s get over with theautopsy, write the reports, and be done,” Brienne snarls, giving Jaime a sternlook that falls flat on the stubborn man, however. Jaime seems by far too enchantedwith the dead frog lying limply on the table in front of them.

“But look at hisloyal eyes!” he argues, feigning distress. Jaime lifts the frog’s head to facein his direction. “Freddy, my friend, no one understands us here.”

Brienne knows she shouldnot be surprised at his behavior anymore, the man takes fun in those kinds ofthings all the while, but to see Jaime now lifting the frog to his face asthough it was his pet irritates Brienne even though she has seen that sort ofbehavior what feels like a thousand times before already.

“Freddy. Now it already has a name!” she snaps, pinching the bridgeof her nose. Brienne still asks herself how she came to deserve to be throwninto one team with Jaime Lannister, who seemingly made it his obligation todrive her insane with his constant jesting and joking at her expenses.

But it’s only until this research project is over, she reminds herself, repeating the mantra she hasbeen saying to herself again and again for the last couple of days, because he becamenearly unbearable as of late.

It’s going to be over soon. Over. Over. Over.

“Yes, Freddy theFrog!” Jaime chimes, seemingly pleased with himself for the creation.

Brienne rolls hereyes at him. “Couldn’t you at least have picked a name that is slightly… creative?”

“It has a nice ringto it,” Jaime argues. “I think he likes it.”

He looks at the frogagain, seemingly waiting for a reaction.

Brienne lets out ashaky breath, trying to calm herself. “Now put the frog back down so that wecan run the autopsy. I don’t want to prolong all this just because you find itfunny.”

“I am very sincereabout Freddy.”

“Jaime, I know youjust want to provoke me to anger, but it’s not working,” she warns him,narrowing her big blue eyes at the man who seemingly takes the greatestpleasure in her discomfort.

“Please. Of courseyou are angry, look at you!” Jaime argues, pointing the frog’s wobbly front legat her. “Even Freddy can see it and he’s dead, as you keep pointing out.”

“Are you seriouslyplaying around with that poor dead animal now?”

“I’m giving him onelast fun time before you open him up to check out his guts,” Jaime replies,rolling his shoulders with nonchalance.

“Well, the moment isover,” Brienne tells him sternly. “Now put the frog back down. We have betterto do, well, I have, I don’t knowabout you.”

“We can’t just cuthim open like that,” Jaime pouts.

“What? Why?!”

“That is withouthonor. We have to give him a proper…,” he means to say, but Brienne cuts himoff harshly. “We are not making afuneral for a frog.”

Brienne can feel heatrising to her cheek and the thick column of her neck. She knows she should beused to this madness by now, but Jaime always seems to find another way todrive her crazy.

“Yeah, I know, butbefore we run the autopsy, we might at least say some prayers or so,” Jaimeargues, puckering his lips, looking much younger than he actually is. Briennewas very much irritated once it dawned on her that despite the fact that he isolder than her, Jaime acts like a bratty teenager more often than is good forhim – and for her foremost.

“You proclaimedyourself to be an atheist the first time I met you!” Brienne retorts. And thatwas something she didn’t even care about. Brienne didn’t even want to talk to him the first time they met, butfor some reason, Jaime picked her ashis target of every jest, every slight, and every mean comment he could thinkof – and hasn’t let go of that since she made his acquaintance upon starting atthe institute.

In the end, Brienne’sbiggest regret as of late is to ever have attended the reception party that wasorganized by the institute when all new scientists were welcomed to the team. Becausethat is how she got stuck in the SevenHells of Laboratory with the smugly grinning and way too handsome JaimeLannister who, ever since that night, made it his one goal in life to bring herto the verge of wanting to strangle him.

Because during thereception, Jaime already dragged her into his troubles, and that was whatseemingly sparked the idea in the boss’ minds to team them up in the firstplace, thus dragging her down the SevenHells of Laboratory ever since that party.

I really better should have stayed home that night.

Needless to mentionthat wearing a stupid dress to theoccasion was the second regrettable thing that happened that night, though uponreflection, it was the third. The first two being ever having made theacquaintance of Jaime Lannister, and the second being not having run while shestill could.

“Doesn’t matter. It’stradition to say some prayers for the dead. And that one is as dead as it gets.So, say some fancy last words – for Freddy the Frog. He deserves it,” Jaimesays, pulling Brienne back to the lab with neon lights painting their skinslighter than they are, to the smell of antiseptic, and the buzzing of thefreezers and other technical devices spread across the room.

“How would you know?”she huffs, though Brienne doesn’t even know why she bothers trying to reasonwith the man. It never worked before. Why would it now?

It must be a kind of madness indeed.

“He’s a poor littlefroggy, what was he supposed to do? Slay the Frog King? Become the Frogslayer?”Jaime huffs, amused. “I already have that title, and as it appears, I won’t besharing any time soon.”

That is a scandal meantto haunt him till the end of his days, Jaime is pretty sure of that. And all heever did was to report Aerys Targaryen for his illegal activities when no oneelse was going to do it. Jaime never felt sorry that everything was taken awayfrom the Targaryens’ institutes thereafter. Surely, he felt for the people wholost their jobs, but to him, it was more important to get that madman away fromaccessible diseases and antidotes he could sell to the highest bidder

He’s heard the manbefore – Aerys wanted to spread sicknesses like wildfire, though gladly, itnever came to it.

If that means thatJaime will forever be known as the Kingslayer, then that is so. It is the leastof Jaime’s concerns, to be honest. He stopped caring about other people’sopinions a long time ago, and has no intention of picking the habit back up.All the whispers have faded to a bearable blur ever since he started at the Oldtown Institute. So long he keepsaround the wench, it is only the judgment in her big blue eyes he has to deal with,and Jaime feels like he can do that very well.

And Jaime has his wayabout Brienne so that even the oh so judgmental glances fade to annoyance orshort-lived amusement far sooner than later. All of that is still by far betterthan keeping around people who don’t care about him, and to whom he still hasto behave as though he cared about them in any way. With Brienne, he doesn’tplay nice, and still, the wench won’t whisper behind his back, which is perhapsone of the rarest gifts Jaime has ever received following the kingslaying business.

“And anyway, he gavehis life for the greater cause, and fought as bravely as he could. Freddydeserves some respect for that, Brienne,” Jaime goes on, focusing once again onthe fun of the situation, the lightness of it, and of course, on taking his dear pleasure in the wench’s scowls andhuffs, fading blushes and being unable to speak in sheer anger, frustration,and being flustered.

Brienne sighs,pinching the bridge of her nose, exhaling slowly.

“I can’t believethis… So, just so that you stop: Freddy the Frog, we thank you for your serviceto the sciences. Thanks to you, we hope to be able to find a treatment for thisvirus threatening people’s lives. We owe you our gratitude. Bye.” She looks atJaime. “Satisfied now?”

“Not satisfied, perhaps, but it’s more than Iever expected from you. Though it’s still prettyweak. You really have to work on your delivery. You have to put more passioninto those speeches, Brienne,” he jokes, looking back at the frog. “I mean, Idid not know Freddy very well while he was still alive, hopping around,croaking and whatever else it is that frogs do day in, day out. He was anhonorable frog, I am sure. Thus, his loss is a great one.”

“And what tells youthat this frog wasn’t getting into fights with other frogs all the while? Orthat it was whoring around the whole time instead of being productive? Where doyou take that knowledge from? Hm?” Brienne snorts.

“Because frogs don’tdo that?” Jaime replies, looking back at Freddy. “You wouldn’t do that, wouldyou, buddy?”

“That is preciselywhat they do. Frogs do not live in monogamous relationships. They use theirtime to reproduce and not build life-long relationships of social significance,as far as I am concerned,” Brienne points out to him.

“How would you know?Maybe he did!” Jaime insists, before he starts stroking the dead animal’s backagain. “Freddy, even in your death, the people make fun of you. I bet you werea good frog. You must excuse my lab partner. The wench doesn’t know better. Nomanners in that one.”

“So can we start withthe autopsy at last? I want this to be over and get on with the research. Wehave a schedule, just in case you forgot,” Brienne urges her lab partner,though she knows it’s no use. Jaime knows by now that she is annoyed, and thatis what only ever feeds his motivation.

“No,” is the onlyreply she receives, however.

“What else is possibly there to say or do?” Briennedemands.

“C’mon, show a bit ofsympathy for this poor little fellow,” Jaime says, wriggling the frog at heragain. “That would be a good start already.”

“Just stop,” Briennegroans.

“Freddy, you have toexcuse my lab partner once more. The wench is just pig-headed stubborn and coldas ice when it comes to these things,” Jaime sighs, shaking his head at thedead animal still in his gloved hands.

“Stop calling me ‘wench’and move on. I want to be done,” Brienne tries once more.

She wants this surveyto be over. She wants to wrap up the reports and then head to a new task, awayfrom this particular lab room, and more precisely – away from Jaime Lannisterand his newly found dead friend Freddy the Frog.

“Look at this poorthing. Now we have to take him apart, open him from navel to chin…,” Jaimesays, shaking his head, but Brienne cuts him off rather harshly, “Frogs don’thave navels.”

Jaime waves his freehand at her. “I’m aware. It’s a figure of speech.”

The wench alwaystakes the fun out of everything, no matter his efforts to make the woman loosenup a bit. And the Seven will know that Jaime tried, Gods know he tried, stilltries, daily, by the minute, with little to no results, sadly.

Jaime yet has to getto the bottom of one of the greatest secrets known to humankind, and no, it’sno cure against Greyscale, though that ismost certainly on the top of the list, too, it’s finding a way to makeBrienne of Tarth laugh in all earnest.

He managed to teasesome smiles out of her already, though those were mostly only just signs oflight amusement or misgiving towards him, but real laughter? Jaime did notsucceed yet, no matter his efforts. However, being a scientist, Jaime knowsthat the only way to get to the bottom of a mystery or problem is to try againand again and again, with a new approach each time, until you achieve thedesired results.

Some may considerthat a kind of madness, but it’s the kind of madness that can potentially moveyou forward when everything else is pulling you back. Progress is only achievedonce you start moving in a direction and only ever stops once you dare to standstill. And standing still is no option, and neither is it that Brienne of Tarthgoes on without ever having laughed at him in all earnest, or else he shall bedamned.

“Let’s just getstarted,” Brienne sighs, holding out her hand to Jaime to gesture at him to giveher the frog, but Jaime carefully puts the animal down on the metal platehimself. She quickly grabs the scalpel to get going before he has a change ofmind, but before Brienne can even bring the blade down on the frog’s skin,Jaime shouts out, “You are doing it wrong.”

“No, I am not. I am doing it just the way it is done in the books. This is not the first autopsyI do on amphibians. This is the standard procedure,” Brienne points out to him,glowering at her lab partner in green scrubs. However, much to her dismay,Jaime seems less than unimpressed, one hand resting on his hip as he replieswith a smug expression, “Let me tell you, you are holding the scalpel allwrong. I am pretty sure.”

“I am pretty sure you are wrong with thatassessment, however,” Brienne argues, turning back around to finally get goingwith the autopsy, but of course,Jaime won’t let her.

He just doesn’t knowwhen to stop.

He never does.

“Let me show you howit’s done, wench,” Jaime argues, moving into her path, his gloved handtightening around her forearm to keep Brienne from using the scalpel. Jaimealready means to start moving her arm to guide her, but Brienne pushes him awayas roughly as she can, sending the man stumbling backwards a few steps.

“You will stay right whereyou are,” she snarls, eyes wide, breath hitched, and anger boiling hot in herveins.

“Then give me the scalpeland I’ll do it for you,” Jaime retorts.

“I won’t let youscrew around with sharp objects ever again. The way I know you, you will cutpoor Freddy open, scoop out the guts and fling them in my face only just tohave a good laugh,” Brienne argues.

“I would never dosuch a thing to Freddy,” Jaime replies with a grin.

“But to me you would? Now, that is reassuring,” she huffs.

“Of course I would,for mistreating Freddy the way you did and still do, not taking the poor frogseriously,” Jaime jokes with his typical sort of grin.

“Gods. Just why did they have to put us in the same team as you? Howdid I deserve this?” Brienne moans, putting the scalpel down with a chink asmetal hits metal. She twists on her heel, letting out a long sigh in the vainattempt to control he breathing.

Jaime chuckles softlyat the memories returning to him. “Well, the reception was a bit of a mess. Anentertaining mess, but a mess no less.”

He already fearedthat he joined the most boring institute he could find, only to run into thatstubborn woman who was not at allboring, no matter how Jaime twisted or turned it. And that was when he, for thefirst time in a long while, felt like he made the right choice.

Ever since he startedworking with Brienne, some many things seem more bearable.

“A mess you started,” Brienne corrects him.

“I did not! You were the one to splash your glass ofchampagne on me,” Jaime laughs, calling that oh so perfect moment to mind. Brienne’sface was simply priceless. The fury still heating her cheeks, while coldsoberness flashed across it as she realized that the champagne got spilled.

“After you behaved yourself in a way that was absolutelyintolerable,” Brienne hisses.

That moment was puretorture, just like everything preceding it. Jaime just wouldn’t leave heralone, and at some point, Brienne simply snapped. She snapped and tossed thechampagne at him and his fancy suit by Tyrell.

“Well, that may havebeen the case, but it was on you that you aimed so poorly that you got some champagneon Ebrose,” Jaime snorts.

That moment was puregold. The boss of the institute looking at her as though Brienne had justcommitted manslaughter right on the dancefloor. The wench blushed all shades ofred at once, the only noise in the room having been that of the champagnedribbling down Jaime’s jacket to plop to the ground below.

Pity for the suit, but the result was oh toorewarding.

“Again, you were theone who started it,” Brienne insists.

“All I ever did wasto compliment you on the dress you wore,” Jaime argues.

Which made that wholething ever the more ridiculous for him. Jaime paid her a compliment, Seven Hells. She should know by now thatJaime doesn’t throw out praise like confetti. He made her an honest compliment,but of course, the wench took it all wrong from the very beginning.

Not that much has changed about that since…

“By which you leaveout everything else that surrounded the compliment. Because that was precededby you questioning me about whether I was taking steroids or if I was a guydressing up as a woman after all,” Brienne hisses, flashing her teeth at him.

“… That may not havebeen my smartest introduction, but to my defense, I only saw your muscularback. But hey, I did pay you a proper compliment. The blue suited you aboutwell enough – and that is what I told you, not that you ever thanked me for it,quite on the contrary,” Jaime argues.

“That is not the point,” Brienne insists. “Thepoint is that thanks to this encounter, we were put in a group as means ofpunishment.”

“I find my owncompany quite rewarding, so maybe you just need to change perspective everyonce in a while.”

“As you assertedyourself, I got the champagne over Ebrose, and he didn’t look particularlypleased about the matter, so you really think he wanted to give me a reward byputting me in the same research group as you?” she huffs.

“No, he was pissed, that much is for sure, but Ithink you should finally see that I am rewarding company despite the fact thathe meant it as punishment. Be true to yourself, wench, who would put up withyou if not me?2Jaime argues with a grin.

“I don’t need anyoneto put up with me,” Brienne snarls,hugging her flat chest.

Even less so a manwho seems to believe that she should be grateful that he bothers to make fun of her. Just how far can Jaime be out of hismind at times? Because that is what irritates Brienne perhaps even more thanhis utter foolery on a daily basis: One moment, he acts like this, the next, heis the one to badmouth one of the colleagues for whispering behind her back, asthough it mattered, and as though he cared, because Jaime, outspokenly, prideshimself not giving “a single flying fuck” on what other people may mutterbehind his back or closed doors.

“The lion does notconcern itself with the opinion of the sheep,” was the sentence he keptrepeating to her over and over whenever Brienne called him upon it.

So why should he care about me? And how am I tobelieve that he does so in all earnest if he acts like this most of the time?

Jaime lets out asigh, resting one gloved hand on his hip while holding out the other palm toher. “In any case… Give me the scalpel to send Freddy to the Seven Heavens orwhatever diety frogs have. Do they have a Frog God? Frogod? Do you know?”

He already means tosnatch it from her hands, but Brienne pulls away. “I am not giving you the scalpel back. I told you that I don’t leave youwith sharp objects around preciselybecause we have already been there before and I could still lynch you for it.”

“It was an accident,” Jaime argues, though he can’thold back the laughter once the memories return to him.

“For that it was an accident, you laughed pretty hard,”Brienne points out to him.

She will never forgetthat moment in a lifetime, though she rather would, because that was about asshameful as it is right at this moment to have to discuss with Jaime Lannisterabout the fate about a dead frog they are meant to dissect to wrap up theirtest results.

At this rate, I will be stuck here forever!

“Because it wasgenuinely funny?”

“It was not!” Brienneinsists.

“It was to me,” Jaime argues vehemently, though hehas to try hard to contain his laughter, to which she retorts, “But not to me.”

“I was trying to behelpful!”

“You were not, though,” Brienne huffs. “Which islittle surprising because you mean nothing but trouble.”

“I am a hot mess,”Jaime says with a grin, gesturing down himself with the kind of attitude Brienneis accustomed to by now, but still finds beyond irritating.

Obviously, Jaimedoesn’t have the issue of lacking self-confidence. Objectively speaking, JaimeLannister is a very handsome man. Lean frame, thick blond hair, muscular forall she can say after once walking in on him as he changed and had taken offhis shirt, which was awkward to say the least, and tall, perhaps not as tall asher, but still rather tall compared to most other men. And Jaime knows that. Hemakes no secret of it.

On the contrary,Brienne knows that she is unattractive, too tall for most men to cope with, herhair only ever behaving itself if she gels it back only to make her look evenless feminine, flat-chested if only just to emphasize that circumstance, andmannish from head to tow. And that is something Brienne is aware of ever sinceshe was a young girl and her nanny Roelle broke the news to her.

And sometimes,Brienne wished she could have the same confidence Jaime just happens to have.As much as she values being factual and seeing things for what they are, shewould like at times to not always be confronted with the reality of her looksand that this forces her to act in a certain way, forces her to perceiveherself in a certain manner.

“You are just amess,” Brienne snorts, not wanting to give him the satisfaction.

“Please, we both know that I am sizzling,” Jaime laughs.

“If you now lick yourfinger to put on your skin to make a sizzling sound, I will walk out thatdoor,” Brienne warns him.

“You take the fun outof things,” Jaime groans, but then shifts his weight to the other leg, studyingher for a long moment before he goes on to say, “In any case, coming back tothat little accident, I can only repeat it: I didn’t know I nicked yourwaistband.”

“Right,” Brienne huffs, rolling her eyes.

“But I held yourpants in place like a true gentleman would,” Jaime chuckles.

Brienne stares athim, eyes impossibly widening. “Are you out of your mind?!”

“What? Was I supposedto let everyone in the lab get a look at your panties? How dishonorable would that have been of me, you tell me?”Jaime argues.

At some point, hedoesn’t even know how that ever possibly happened, but somehow Jaimeaccidentally slashed down with the scalpel, which ripped the azure waistband ofher scrubs, and once he realized, he held on.

Merely out of reflex, of course.

What was mostdefinitely reflex was that somethingwas on the verge of rising in his pants when he stood before her to shield herfrom view, whereby Jaime came the closest to her that he did up until thispoint of time.

Damn the woman and her cotton panties.

“Honorable would have been not to fling around with a scalpel in thefirst place,” Brienne argues. “Or rather, it would have fitted the behavior ofsomeone who knows not to play around with scalpels, which is something Ithought people learned as children, apparently.”

“I was not playing around with it. You constantlytried to take it away from me, so I had to make some more daring moves to keepyou from it. So, talk about improper behavior with sharp tools. This isentirely on you, wench. And if you were being honest with yourself, you’d admitalready that this was all kinds of hilarious, actually. Thus, you might just aswell laugh it up instead of being a downer even now. I mean, how much time haspassed since?” Jaime insists, to which Brienne replies with a blank facialexpression, “Three weeks.”

“Really? I thought it was longer,” Jaime frowns, wrinkling his nose.He wants to run his fingers through his hair, but once he feels the glovespulling on his follicles, he quickly abandons the gesture.

He honestly thoughtit had been a while longer since that little incident, because truth be told,Jaime lost count of the many times he recounted just that moment in all of itsglorious details, and how thrilling he found that, every damn time.

“Three weeks, fourdays… I will spare you now the hours and seconds to the count,” Brienne tellshim as drily as she can. She blows out air through her nostrils, somehow tryingto contain her anger.

It’s just this project. After that, it will be done,it will be over.

She can go on withher life, her studies, and she can hopefully request to work in the labfurthest away from the one Jaime will be transferred to.

“So, now that werevisited some of our worst memories ever since we were tossed together asresearch partners, how about we return to the task and move on with theautopsy?” Brienne exhales, feeling heat rise to her cheeks, and she can’tafford to visibly blush now, or else she will never see the end of it.

“Nah, I quite likethis game right now. It’s far too entertaining to see you trying oh sodesperately to bring me to reason even though we both know it’s not working,”Jaime laughs. “Ever.”

Brienne is fairlycertain that he wants to grab the scalpel again, but to her utter shock, Jaimegoes for the frog once more and picks it up before she can get to the task.

“Jaime!” she shouts.

“I have an idea!” hesays with a feigned bright smile.

Brienne presses theback of her wrist against her forehead, somehow trying to contain herself. “Howmuch do I have to pay you so that you just forget about it?”

“Please, I am rich.”

Brienne rolls hereyes. She should have seen that one coming, she knows.

“Kiss him,” he thensays, which has Brienne gaping at him. “What?!”

“Kiss the frog! Justlike in the fairytale! That would be a proper goodbye for Freddy. C’mon, onequick smooch!” he teases her, holding the dead animal out to her.

“I will not kiss that damned frog!” Briennegrowls, pushing his hand away.

And that is the finalnail in the coffin for Brienne. She always knew that with Jaime, she would haveto accept some many slights coming her way, but this is too much.

She didn’t join thisprofession to end up back in high school where the boys only ever tormented herwith calling her names and shouting “Brienne the Beauty” or “Beast” after heras she walked down the hallways as fast as she could.

Jaime Lannister won’tput her back in that place.

Never again.

“C’mon.”

“No.”

“C’mon.”

“No.”

“Quick smooch. Notongue required.”

“Stop it!”

“Freddy deserves somelove,” Jaime insists, holding the godforsaken thing out to her again and again.

“Kiss that frogyourself if it means that much to you!” Brienne replies through gritted teeth. Jaimelooks back at the frog with a grimace. “I don’t think Freddy was gay.”

“It doesn’t matterwhat sexual orientation the frog may have had. I am no frog, in case it wentwithout your notice. So it doesn’t make a difference.”

Sometimes Briennecan’t believe that she even bothers to try to reason with this man. There issimply no way to achieve it.

“C’mon!” Jaime keepsgoing without relent, meaning to lift the frog to her face once more, butBrienne has had enough. She slaps his hand away as harshly as she can, notcaring whether it hurts or not. Jaime seemingly didn’t see her move coming, sothe frog slips out of his hand and smacks to the ground with a wet slappingsound.

For a moment, the twostand there silently, staring at one another, then the frog, then each otheragain.

“I can’t believe youdropped the frog we’re dissecting on THE FLOOR WHAT THE FUCK!” Jaime shouts,already kneeling down to pick the frog back up, calling out in a dramaticmanner, “Freddy, nooooo!”

Brienne looks aroundnervously. “Would you shut it at last?”

“Shut it? Shut it! And that after what you did topoor Freddy,” Jaime argues with fake vehemence, before he shakes his head. “Youjust had to let him down one last time, huh?”

She doesn’t react atall. Jaime grows as he picks the frog back up, stroking over its dotted backonce more.

“Freddy, my man, youdon’t deserve any of this. And I don’t deserve any of this either. See, I haveto put up with this daily!” Jaime grumbles, though a grin plays around hislips, but then he turns to Brienne once more. “Apologize to him.”

“I will not apologizeto a dead animal that never had the mental capacities in the first place tounderstand figures of human speech, and is apparently too dead to hear it evenif it could. This has gone on for far too long already,” Brienne snaps. “Nowput the thing down.”

“You tossed him tothe ground! Who does that?!”

“I accidentallyknocked against your arm to send it flying to the ground. That was not onpurpose. And in any case, the frog can no longer feel anything. That is the point. The frog is dead!” Briennealmost yells, but then catches herself, banging her hand on the metal tableinstead to somehow keep herself from hitting Jaime across the face.

“You are heartless,wench. I expected more empathy from you. Poor Freddy.” He looks at theamphibian. “Maybe I should keep him.”

“No, you are not keeping him!”

“But I could put himin a jar,” he argues.

“Like Selyse doeswith her weird experiments on dead baby pigs?”

Jaime makes a face. “Sheis a creep.”

“Precisely. Do youwant to be one too?” Brienne points out to him. Jaime wrinkles his nose,contemplating, as he looks at the dead frog once more. “Nah. True again, but Idon’t like the thought that he gets opened up and the guts spill out… he’s agood frog. Look at his friendly eyes!”

“Why can’t you just stop?” Brienne groans.

“Why would I?” Jaime replies, mimicking her voice, only to beam ather again. “C’mon, give him a kiss to apologize.”

“I won’t give thatdead animal a kiss. How many times do I have to repeat it before you understand?”Brienne shouts.

“Don’t worry, I amfairly sure he doesn’t have any frog diseases. Or else they wouldn’t have takenhim to extract the antidote from him.”

“I am aware,” Briennesnarls. “But I just don’t care whether it spreads diseases or not…”

He cuts her offbefore she can finish the thought, however. “But you should, upon reflection.Maybe he could give you Greyscale, still. I mean… we don’t know how Greyscalereacts with frogs. Maybe that one has Greyscale and we’d never know of itbecause the symptoms may be different. Have we done studies on this yet?Whether frogs can get Greyscale? And then transmit it to humans? Maybe thatshould be our next project! Just imagine the headlines if we get some solidresults! Killer frogs! Zombie frogs! That would be epic!”

“I will count myselflucky once we are through with this test here, because that means I can finallyrequest another partner and move on with life,” Brienne tells him, blinkingonce the words travelled past her lips.

She didn’t want totell Jaime just yet, fearing that he would torpedo her plans only just to annoyher. However, the shock flashing across his features achieves all but one thing– he is speechless for once, which is a rarity, because Jaime Lannisterseemingly doesn’t know when to stop.

“You just want toabandon me?!” he asks, gaping.

Now, that came unexpected.

“I thought that youtried anything within your powers to achieve just that,” Brienne huffs, tryingher best to hide her irritation at his apparent upset about the news. “In fact,I expected you to do a happy dance now that you get rid of ‘the wench’ you haveto put up with all the time.”

“You are such ahypocrite. I was just trying to have some fun with you, loosening up the mood abit,” Jaime argues. “I didn’t want to chase you away. This is supposed to be fun!”

“By telling me tokiss dead frogs? Or cutting open my waistbands by accident?!” Brienne argues, tilting he head slightly to theside. “Yeah, great fun for me right there.”

“Not frogs, just this one, Freddy, my friend,”Jaime laughs, but then bites himself on the tongue, realizing that Brienne isabsolutely sincere at this moment.

She seriously doesn’t want to be labpartners with him anymore. And that realization hits Jaime far harder than heever thought it would. At some point, he dared to take for granted that thewoman is too stubborn to quit, no matter his jests.

And a part of himhonestly thought she had long since caught up to the game and learned to see itas such.

So much to making assumptions without running propertests… that is most definitely not the scientific method.

“Which assures meever the more that I do right by requesting another research partner or teamonce we are through with this,” Brienne hisses, gritting her teeth, long sinceno longer caring whether Jaime can see her upset or not.

She is upset, shallhe laugh about it all he wants. There is no point in hiding it anyway.

“You alreadyrequested another research partner without even telling me?” Jaime asks,blinking rapidly.

He can’t believethis. And here Jaime thought that the wench and him had a special connection ofsome strange sort, he will admit. However, he didn’t think she would just runaway first chance she got. Brienne seems too stubborn for that.

“No, I asked to be transferred to another research project once thatis wrapped up. The Seven will know whom I will be teamed up with,” Briennesays, her frown deepening as she studies his reaction.

It does seem genuine,but why would Jaime be upset about any of this?

“And in any case, Ididn’t think you ever considered to go with me as a research partner anothertime. To my understanding, we were put together because they wanted to punishus, and we both were counting the days,” Brienne goes on, hugging her chestdefensively. “Or am I wrong?”

“Well, I still thinkthe Gods have sent you to me to punish me for my crimes and make me humbler…,”he means to say, but she cuts him off in a sing-song voice, “Not that thisworked in any way yet…”

“I am on a good path,though,” Jaime insists, puckering his lips.

Considering how Jaimeonly half-heartedly applied to this institute following the scandal, he had torealize over time that it was working with Brienne that somehow ignited thatspark in him again to take the work seriously. Even though he still wants tohave his fun in-between, but that does not in the least diminish his resolve todo his job again, and no longer letting the nickname of the Kingslayer wear himdown.

“Are you?” She cocksan eyebrow at him.

“I tend to think so.Some time back, I never would have bothered to care about those little froggieshere, yet… here I am,” Jaime explains with a grin. “I didn’t care about much ofanything until you flooded me with righteousness and all those other annoyingthings that you are supposed to do to be a decent person.”

Jaime only everstarted caring about something again once he set out to gain Brienne’s approvalor disapproval, depending on the circumstance.

He wanted herapproval on being a proper scientist who wants to do his job.

He wanted herdisapproval on most of the foolery he did in her presence until now to teasesome reactions out of her, to make her laugh, make her see him.

However pathetic that may be, thinking about it now…

“And I am supposed tohave inspired that in you? Becausesurely, that behavior you display right now is not what I would want you tohave at any point,” Brienne snaps.

“You bring out thebest and the worst in me all at the same time, wench,” Jaime chimes. “You aremy little paradox… well, not littlein terms of stature, but you know what I mean.”

“Well, that paradox of yours will resolve itselfonce we wrap up this project,” Brienne retorts, narrowing her eyes at him.

“So now that we areclear on the matter that we want to get over with this, we should do just that– dissect the frog, wrap up the reports, and then move on with our separatelives as soon as it is possible,” Brienne goes on with a sigh, finding her willto fight him fading fast.

Jaime looks at herfor a long moment, and Brienne cannot read him at all. He looks at her blankly,contemplating something, whatever it may be. She bites her lower lip, waitingfor some kind of reaction, but then his eyes drift away from her and back tothe frog once more. “… In any case, it’s decided now. I am keeping him. He ismy friend now, if you don’t want to be.”

Brienne blinks. “Yourfriend?”

“Well, you areleaving me, you just admitted it yourself. Therefore, I have to find myselfsomeone new, and Freddy may be the best alternative, because the other guys aroundhere are idiots or assholes… or both,” Jaime tells her, but then looks at herwith slightly tilted head. “Of course you could become my friend again if youeither told authorities that we will stay lab partners – or you kiss the frog.Those are the only options I see.”

“I am not kissing a dead frog. End of story,”Brienne flat-out replies, gesturing with her hand wildly, not knowing how elseto keep her frustration and anger in check.

This is all too much.For that it’s supposed to be over far sooner than later, Jaime seemingly usesany opportunity now to make her last days as his lab partner living hell, with a damned dead frog if need be.

And here she daredfor only just a second that he could be sincere about the matter.

“Which means that youwill tell authorities to…,” he means to say, but Brienne cuts him off harshly,“Not happening either. I won’t just change my mind about something that isobviously to both our benefit because you want to keep your target to bully.”

“I am not bullying…,”Jaime means to object, but then the door behind them opens, shutting him upbefore he can get to it.

“Kingslayer! Why am Inot surprised to have you lurking around here still?” a man’s voice rings out.Jaime and Brienne turn their heads to see Euron and his mates approaching. Thatman seemingly considers himself the Kingof the Lab, though he has not brought about any sort of scientificbreakthrough that would justify the title yet.

“You mean to say,Octopus?” Jaime asks, crossing his arms over his chest, narrowing his eyes atthe red-haired man.

“It’s time that youget the hell out of here.”

“… Why?”

“Your lab time is up.We have the slot after yours, in case you forgot to check the schedule… or areindeed unable to read. Rumor has it that you struggle with that a bit. So getout of here. We have to go on with our project,” Euron replies as he almostwaltzes across the white floor tiles.

“Well, we are notdone yet. So perhaps you just get ready while we finish this up. The lab is bigenough,” Jaime points out to him.

“Nah-ah,” Euronargues, wriggling his index finger at him with a grin. “You are getting out,right now.”

“Well, we still haveto clean up before we can go,” Jaime argues, gesturing at their table wherethey still have their instruments spread out.

“You can do thatafter we are done, I don’t care. We booked the lab, and we are using it now. Ifthat means you have to stay until after we are done… that is on you, not me,”Euron chuckles softly, more than satisfied with himself over this foolery.

Brienne shakes herhead.

Men.

“We’ll just put thatone in the fridge and then we will leave you to your research,” she sayscalmly, taking the frog from Jaime before he can even bother to react. Brienneputs the dead animal down on the tray before putting it back into the fridge.

“Still stuck with thefrog tests, huh?” Euron snorts, amused, to which Jaime comments, “It’s alwaysrich coming from a guy testing on what was it? Sea slugs?”

“It’s a special kindof fish only found near Pyke that you likely don’t know,” Euron tells him witha smirk.

“I bet,” Jaime huffs,mimicking both his facial expression and posture, which doesn’t go unnoticed bythe other man.

“We should head out,then, and return once they are done. C’mon,” Brienne tells Jaime, though he istoo busy glaring at Euron. They had a rivalry going on since Day One, whichBrienne only ever found childish at best, from both sides.

Euron is at theinstitute for a longer time than they are, so he feels as though he has toguard his territory, as it appears, whereas Jaime seemingly wants to show Euronthat it is not his territory, which thus results in fights for dominance overthe most unimportant things ever, such as taking up each other’s slots and thelike.

While Brienne doesn’tperceive her daily quarrels with Jaime as particularly adult, far from it, sadly, she finds theinteractions between those two men even more childish than what they have goingon, which is telling.

“Listen to her,”Euron laughs, leaning against one of the many cupboards by the sides of theroom.

“Freddy better still bethere when I return,” Jaime mutters as he starts to walk.

“What?” Euron frowns,seemingly having caught that.

“You are supposed toleave the frog in the fridge,” Brienne translates. “We still have to run theautopsy to determine its cause of death.”

“I see,” Euron says,nodding his head slowly while licking his lips, which always has somethingpredatory to it that irritates Brienne every time. “Oh, before I forget it:Rumor has it that you will be looking into new projects soon enough. Is it thatyou will be joining us? Because let me tell you, if you want to join at thispoint of time, you will have to prove yourself worthy of it.”

Brienne tilts herhead to the side. “Worthy?”

The other menlaughing has her fairy convinced that she has a good guess on what they wouldhave in mind. For that she knows that she is ugly, Brienne is still baffledmore than often at the fact that men won’t cut those kinds of comments whilearound her.

One should think that being ugly, mannish, and tall isgood for that at least, but no such luck.

“Why would she wantto be on your team anyway?” Jaimehuffs, his eyes narrowing more and more. “Why would anyone if she had a choice not to?”

“Why would she not?”Euron argues, cocking an eyebrow at Jaime.

“Because in contrastto some people around here… right in this room, even, she has a brain and usesit every once in a while?” Jaime retorts. “Which will surely prevent her fromjoining a team such as yours?”

“I am fairly surethat I will not join your research group, because it is not my field ofexpertise and interest,” Brienne replies, ignoring Jaime’s rivalry with Euron.She doesn’t want to get dragged into any more trouble than she already is.

“I could pull somethreads if you really wanted to join,though. I mean, someone has to compensate you for sticking you in one team withthe Kingslayer of all people,” Euron chuckles, seemingly only ever enjoyingpissing off Jaime, which makes Brienne the perfect tool to achieve such, she knows.However, Brienne is not willing to let herself be pushed into that role.

“I will have to see,”Brienne tells him calmly. “It depends on what Ebrose has to say, but that onlycomes out once we finish up this project here.”

“Well, rumor has itthat you are just prolonging the moment of truth because you have the hots forthe Kingslayer. And let me just tell you, that is poor judgment on your behalf,if it is true,” Euron laughs, his friends cracking up with him.

“What?!” Briennegapes, eyes widening.

“Why else would yoube taking that long finishing up that project?” Euron huffs, amused at hershock.

“That is because wehad some setbacks in-between – and because my research partner here likes tofool around instead of fulfilling his tasks,” Brienne says, glowering at Jaime,who only glares back at her in turn.

“Well, you better seeto it that you wrap this up,” Euron laughs. “Would be such a waste.”

He gives Jaimeanother look that he only ever returns with a self-certain smile and narrowedeyes.

“I most definitelywill,” Brienne huffs, motioning towards the door. “C’mon, Jaime. We shouldleave the gentlemen to theirexperiments.”

“The Kingslayer andthe Kingslayer’s Whore. What a lovely bunch the two make, ha?” Euron croons.

“What was that?” Jaimeasks, turning on the heel at once, nostrils flaring.

He has no troubledealing with a cocksure man the likes of Euron Greyjoy, but he just oversteppedthe one boundary he shouldn’t have looked at from afar, even.

“Could you repeatthat another time? I fear I didn’t quite catch that!” Jaime snarls, the cornerof his mouth twitching as he glowers at the other man, who just smiles back athim, casually leaning against the counter.

“The Kingslayer andhis Whore,” Euron chimes. “And hey, I didn’t come up with it, but I find itmore than fitting.”

He looks at Jaime,then at Brienne, only to laugh once more.

“I mean, I wouldn’tbe surprised if he took you from behind while you are alone here in the lab,spread you over that table over there, pull down your pants, and…,” Euron meansto say, but he never gets to finish the sentence. Jaime means to lunge at theguy, but before he can get to it, Greyjoy goes to the ground after Briennepunched him squarely in the jaw.

Euron definitelydidn’t see that coming, just staring at Brienne towering above him, gloved fiststill raised in the air.

Jaime opens his mouthto say something, but that is when Brienne whirls around, grabs him by thewrist, and pulls him out the door.

Both are surprisedthat apparently no one follows them, but Euron’s friends are likely way tooshocked at Brienne’s sudden reaction to even bother to care to chase after her– if they aren’t afraid to suffer the same destiny as their self-proclaimedleader.

The two keep walking wordlesslyuntil they reach another corridor, but then Brienne stops abruptly, letting outa ragged breath.

“You just…,” Jaimesays, still rather taken aback by her sudden outburst, and Brienne completes ina similar manner, “… punched him in the face.”

“You have a niceright hook,” he comments, puckering his lips.

“That is not at allhelpful right now,” Brienne groans.

While Jaime talkedabout her being his paradox to bring out both the best and the worst in him,there is no paradox for her – Jaime Lannister only ever brings out the worst inher, there is no way of denying it now.

This is by far toounprofessional for Brienne, yet, here they are.

“Don’t worry, he’snot going to report you. That would hurt his oh so fragile masculinity by fartoo much. And if you hadn’t done it, I would have at the next moment,” Jaimesays, shaking his head. “Damn, woman, you really have some mad reflexes.”

“I don’t care. Thisis…,” she mutters, but then groans. “Argh!”

She throws her handsup in the air, in desperate need to release some of the tension stored in herbody.

“Calm down, wench,this is…,” Jaime means to say, but Brienne cuts him off.

“No, I am donestaying calm,” she snaps, so agitated that she rips off her gloves and tossesthem at Jaime’s head.

“Hey!” he pouts as heremoves the gloves and lets them fall to the ground.

“Why did you have to play stupid and not follow through schedule?!Just why?! We would long since havebeen out the door. We never would have run into that asshole. Because EuronGreyjoy was the last thing I needed today,” Brienne rambles, adrenaline stillrushing through her system.

It’s enough that shehas to put up with Jaime, but now to have another nemesis in Euron is the lastthing Brienne needed. She just wants to work, she just wants to do her job.Brienne already had the personal torpedo her work here because it was Jaime’sfoolery at the reception that got her stuck in a team with him instead ofanyone else. And now, things may well repeat themselves – and all that becauseJaime Lannister has picked her as her target.

“That wouldn’t changeanything about the fact that he dares to call you that,” Jaime points out toher.

“It doesn’t matter!”Brienne shouts. “I don’t blame you for that I punched him, that was entirely onme, but we never would have been in this situation if, for once, you would have behaved like a man your age, like afriggin’ adult, instead of playing around with a dead frog!”

“How was I to knowthat Octopus would be a Killjoy instead of Greyjoy?” Jaime argues.

He just won’t get it!

“It is not about Euron, it’s about how youseemingly make it your life purpose to drive me insane and prove to beunproductive when we both know that you can do far more and far better. When weboth know that you actually care about the job you are doing a lot more thanyou let on with your attitude. But no,ever since you got tossed into a team with me and showed some of that, youseemingly decided that it’s time to prove the opposite ever since, for some damned reason,” Brienne snaps, the wordsfinally pouring out of her as though the punch just opened up the dam,destroyed it, tore it down until all water could spill out in a massive wave.

Enough is enough.

“I was just trying toloosen up the mood a bit, because you always act like you have a stick up yourass. Seven Hells, woman, brighten up, you got to punch Euron Killjoy! We shouldtotally get a drink and toast to this happy circumstance,” Jaime argues.

“No, and that is exactly why it’s truly for the best that we two aregoing to part ways once that project is wrapped up. That is not the kind ofbehavior I normally display. This was highly unprofessional, whether Euron isan ass, which he is, or not. That is, if they don’t have me fired after all,”Brienne growls.

“They won’t fire you,please,” Jaime huffs. “They made grabby-hands to get a hold on you. Theycouldn’t bake a candidate better than what you have in your CV.”

“Doesn’t matter. Ihonestly had enough,” Brienne hisses.

“The frog was overthe line?” he snorts. “That is thebreaking point, really?”

She should be mad atEuron, not him and the little frog incident, at least in Jaime’s humbleopinion.

“Not the frog per se,because apparently, I am used to your childishness in that regard, but youtelling me to kiss it was what was over the line for me – and the fact thateven now, you don’t seem to realize that this was really one blow too many,”Brienne retorts, nostrils flaring.

In the haste withEuron, she almost forgot, but now it’s right back on Brienne’s mind, and itonly adds fuel to a flame burning deep in the pit of her stomach.

Only Jaime Lannistercan bring her to the breaking point, as it appears. Only ever him.

“It was a joke,”Jaime insists.

What is she talking about?

“Precisely. A joke.And not a very funny one, I may add,” Brienne hisses, gritting her teeth athim.

“Not one of my best,I will admit it…,” Jaime wants to say, but Brienne won’t let him. “Just stopalready!”

Jaime looks at her,stunned. Brienne, wanting to use that small opportunity, steps a little closer,puts her left hand on her hip and takes a steady stance. “I get that big jokeabout the fairytale turned upside-down. Great. Awesome. Make the wench kiss thefrog and maybe that will make her a pretty princess, but of course, nothappening. Ha-ha. Great joke, Jaime, great joke.”

“That’s not at allwhat I meant,” he argues.

Where does that come from?!

“I don’t care. I amhonestly fed up with this. I am fed up with you and your intolerable behaviorand the apparent lack of respect I thought was not the issue because deep down,I thought you truly respected me at least on that level, but… no such luck.”

She shakes her head,finding her powers fading, the adrenaline washing out of her far too fast. Jaimealways tires her with this sort of behavior, but this was just the icing onthat bitter cake. Because Brienne wanted to believe that he cared in some way,only to have him joke even now, only to have him not realize anything at all.

“And now I will gohome. Tomorrow, I will finish the autopsy whether you tie yourself to thattable to protect Freddy from it or not, and finish my reports so that I canhopefully get a new project as soon as possible. I am done. Done!”  she curses, before she pushes away from himand starts to walk away.

“Brienne! Wait!” Jaimecalls after her. However, she is already running off.

Jaime stands therefor a moment, still trying to wrap his head around this. He never thoughtBrienne would react to a joke like that.She always has a thick skin, almost too thick to get underneath in anysignificant way. However, that comment did it to her? Jaime honestly didn’t seeit coming.

Though then again, healso didn’t see it coming that Brienne wanted to get out of the double team,away from him. So perhaps it was poor judgment on his behalf after all.

However, none of thatmatters right at this moment – he has to clarify this problem, Jaime knows. So,he starts walking again.

“… Where to…?” hemutters as he walks through the corridors. “Oh, right.”

Jaime jogs down thehallways until he reaches the changing rooms. He just walks inside withoutfurther prelude, calling out, “Wench?”

Brienne rounds thecorner, readjusting her black tank top, almost falling backwards over one ofthe benches there once she sees Jaime rushing inside.

“What are you doingin the women’s changing rooms?!” she shrieks.

“Is someone elsehere?” he asks.

Probably something I should have checked on before…but oh well, it is an emergency!

“No?” Briennereplies, blinking.

What is he doinghere?

Why did he come afterher?

Didn’t he achievewhat he wanted?

Just why can’t he leave me in peace even when he gotme to yield?!

“Well, then itshouldn’t bother,” Jaime says, shrugging his shoulders.

“It bothers me. Get out!” Brienne snaps, walkingover to her locker to gather her things.

“Nope,” is the simplereply she gets, but would rather do without.

She slams the lockershut – loudly, keeping her back to him. “Just leave.”

“Not happening,sorry,” Jaime snorts. “You know you don’t get rid of me that easily.”

“Jaime, I honestlydon’t want to keep fighting you. That’s not worth it,” Brienne groans.

He nods his head. “Itotally agree.”

“Well, we will keepfighting if you don’t get out right now. I need a break, alright?” she sighs.Brienne just feels drained.

“I don’t want tofight you.”

“Neither do I, butyou keep pushing me,” Brienne argues. “Today just proved it. You seeminglycannot stop once you picked your target, and apparently, that is what I am toyou.”

“You are my labpartner. Well, soon-to-be-ex-lab-partner, according to you. something that wedid not yet properly discuss just yet, because…,” he means to say, but Briennecuts him off harshly. “Jaime, enough already!”

They achieved nothingtoday, other than getting into a fight over a dead frog and punching EuronGreyjoy in the jaw. Brienne is here for work, not for those kinds of things,despite the fact that she can well imagine that this only ever assured Jaimethat he wants to keep her around for his own entertainment – and Brienne isdone serving as such.

“I honestly thoughtyou got it that I was just joking.”

“Just because youthink you are joking doesn’t mean that…”

“That what?”

“That it can’t beover the line more often than it should be,” Brienne says.

That it can hurt.

Even if it’s a womanwho looks like she can take any slight because she is so very used to it thanksto her looks, who stands so tall and strong that it doesn’t occur to most otherpeople that it can pain her, too.

Jaime grimaces,sucking the inside of his cheek into his mouth. That is not at all what heexpected when he walked into the lab in the morning, whistling Six Maids in a Pool, if only just tohave her hiss at him to cut it out to bring up such bawdy songs.

“I didn’t mean for…”

“Oh please. You saidit yourself: This sort of thing is what makes your day, and honestly, Jaime? Iam done with that. You can take the work you do seriously, but seemingly notworking with me, and that means we are both best served by letting this restfrom now on and just focusing on the job, because that is what we both are herefor, doing our job good and proper. You said it yourself. You hate it thatpeople don’t realize that are sincere about this. Well, you won’t be if youkeep that up. So… better to make the cut now.”

“And you don’tdiscuss that with me beforehand?”

“I don’t have todiscuss that with you.”

“I am your labpartner.”

“It doesn’t matter.It’s not uncommon to switch teams, especially if you get tossed into a researchgroup as means of punishment. And to say it once more, I do not get the upsetyou feign right here because you make it no secret that you want to push me asfar away as possible. Why else would you keep jesting with me the way you do?”Brienne argues.

“That’s not at allwhat I meant to achieve.”

“Then what?”

“I didn’t want toachieve much of anything. I just…,” Jaime mutters, biting his lower lip.

Until today, hereally didn’t mean to achieve anything. Everything was the way it always goes,until Brienne dropped the bomb that she wanted to quit him as her lab partner.And that changed the game entirely, he has to realize.

Thus, it seems to behigh time to change the rules, too.

Now or never. Standing still is no option, right?

“You just what? Weretrying to have some more fun? Yeah, well, newsflash, Jaime, I am not here foryour sole entertainment. I thought I made myself clear by now,” she hisses,turning around, back pressed against the cool metal of the grey-paintedlockers, relishing the cooling sensation against her heated skin.

She watches Jaime fora long moment as he seems to “wrestle the dilemmas” for once, instead of her,which serves him right in her opinion, but the short-lived feeling ofsuperiority is over as soon as it came to bloom, because something shifts inJaime’s expression and posture, to something that Brienne cannot read, nomatter how hard she may try.

“You did, and now I wantto make myself clear,” Jaime says.

Brienne can donothing much but stare as Jaime strides over to her, his moves confident,certain, with a goal in mind.

He pushes her againstthe locker with a small thud before pressing his lips to hers. Brienne blinks,trying to think of a reasonable, scientificexplanation how they got from A to B, from fighting over dead frogs to his lipson hers – and her finding herself kissing back with a kind of fervor she rarely– if ever – felt while exchanging heated kisses with a man.

How did A cause B?

How did they end upin this place, right at this moment?

How is that fact now?

They deepen the kisseffortlessly, almost blindly, for a moment completely forgetting about the factthat they are standing in the women’s changing rooms, which do not have themost pleasant smell, mingled with an odd mixture of all kinds of perfumes anddeodorants, Euron Greyjoy and his gang, and even Freddy the Frog. It alldisappears into a blur overshadowed only just by the sensation of their lipscolliding.

Brienne breathes intohis open mouth, blinking at the sensation of his hands on her thick hips, andthe apparent fervor with which he presses against her lips, needing it, needingher.

Because, since whendoes Jaime Lannister need her of allpeople?

For all she knows, heprides himself not having to rely on anyone, always managing himself, doing histhing no matter what people may say, or what she may have to say in particular.Yet, here she can feel it radiating from his fingers, seeping into her skinfrom where he touches her.

They break away aftera long moment, chests heaving, Jaime’s grip on her hips loosening, though hisfingers still stay on the almost non-existent curve of her hip.

The two look at eachother, breathing hard, likely both surprised at the sudden change of the rules.

“W, what?!” Briennecroaks, her mouth still lax after what just happened, after what they just did.

“I suppose I shouldbe relieved that you kissed me instead of Freddy,” he laughs, now soundingalmost nervous. “Far more rewarding.”

Jaime Lannister – nervous. What a scandal! Brienne thinks to herself. As he himself tends to repeat ad nauseum: Jaime Lannister isneither afraid, nor nervous – ever.

Yet, here we are…

“If that is one ofyour weird attempts of making a joke of…,” Brienne means to say, but Jaime isquick enough to interrupt her, “That was no joke. This here right now is nojoke.”

He looks her deep inthe eye, and for a moment, Brienne can’t seem to catch her breath, findingherself rigid from the intensity of his glance, the ardor in his voice.

“Jaime, I…,” she mutters.  

“Let’s be real,woman: While I couldn’t care less about the opinion of others, I guess it’sfairly obvious to anyone but us that our bantering is not just the result of adeeply felt hatred, but actually a growing attraction – if even Euron Fuckin’Greyjoy caught on to the news before either one of us did,” Jaime huffs. “Thisis like ignoring all laid out facts in a research, right?”

“You make joke aboutme the whole time,” Brienne points out to him bluntly. “How about that fact?”

“That is what I just do?And in any case, I always thought that maybe if I tried hard enough, I wouldbring you to laugh. But you are a tough nut, woman,” Jaime snorts. “Nounderlying intentions beyond that. Trust me in this.”

“If you want me toapologize for that…,” she means to hiss, but he cuts her off, “I am not. I am just trying to say that weare… perhaps very good scientists, but rather blind to evidence when it comesto what’s happening around us outside our little lab… or right within it, uponreflection.”

“So what? You mean totell me that after playing around with a dead frog, you realized your hiddenfeelings for me?” Brienne huffs.

That would be evenmore of a scandal than Jaime Lannister being nervous. Brienne knows the factsof her body, she knows the facts of her popularity, and she knows the odds of aman the likes of Jaime Lannister being attracted to her. To say the least, thechances are not very high, if at all existent.

That leaves twooptions, either Jaime just delivered the pitch for his most cruel joke, or hejust presented a piece of evidence to a newly founded paradox between them.

“No, obviously not,though I would account Freddy as being an unexpected catalyst,” Jaime snorts,though the amusement soon fades from his features upon the realization thatBrienne just glowers back at him in turn.

“I suppose what shookme through was when you said you wanted to quit the dynamic due consisting ofus two,” Jaime argues, which has Brienne wondering what of the two options maybe true after all, because of the two options, option two seems still so veryunlikely, despite the fact that she is still trapped between him and the locker,her lips still singing from the bruising kiss they just shared.

“See, I honestlythought you were trying to chase me away,” Brienne points out to him.

“I wasn’t trying to…well, at first, maybe, I will admitit, but that was because you considered me to be nothing but scum.”

“Not scum, justannoying.”

“Case in point.However, even if I may have had some many misgivings in the first place, whichmay or may not have resulted in me trying to chase you away, once we got knowone another a little better… I thought it was friendly banter, and that you sawit in that way, too. It never occurred to me that you still considered that myattempt of getting you away from me,” Jaime tells her with the kind of tonethat has Brienne believe that this is true, that this is fact, though commonsense should tell her that it’s even less possible than Jaime Lannisterbehaving himself for a week.

“You don’t realizehalf the time that you are over the line,” she points out to him defensively.

He shrugs. “A familytrait, I assume?”

“Don’t blame geneticsfor it,” Brienne huffs. “That’s a cheap excuse. Even for you.”

“I am trying, but thepoint is… as you said it, I had some sudden realizations, shall I say?” Jaimetells her. “You will have to cut me some slack for not having figured out allof that new data just now.”

“And so you decide toget territorial with Euron despite not having evaluated the results just yet?”she snorts.

“You are aware that humans are rarelyrational?”

Brienne laughs drilyat that. “You are a living example.”

“Precisely. And let’snot pretend – you can be pretty unreasonable yourself,” Jaime huffs. “Runningoff like that, punching Euron in the jaw, which was clearly the highlightbeside that kiss here right now, which was… exceeding any expectation I mayhave had before by far.”

Brienne makes a face.“You had expectations?”

“A vivid imagination,shall I rather say?” he laughs, and Brienne finds herself smirking, despite thefact that, rationally, she should still be mad, should realize that all of thisis insanity, and that if she were right in her mind, she would not just standthere and ogle at Jaime as he keeps close to her as though he occupied thatplace for centuries, when in fact, any so such contact only came about a fewminutes ago.

“So… the point is… now that I know that youare far better a kisser than I ever thought you would be, having tested thatnow myself, it’d be such a waste notto let that carry on for at least a while longer, right?” he chimes, cocking aneyebrow at her playfully.

“You are sincere,”Brienne says drily, not knowing whether that’s an assessment or a question.

“Perfectly sincere,”Jaime replies with a smile. “You see, with me it’s like that: I may take mytime to make up my mind every once in a while, but if I have to decide, I makethe decision at once and mean to follow through with it.”

“I always knew youwere stubborn.”

“A trait we seem toshare,” Jaime chuckles. “In any case. Think about it. You can be my Princess inScrubs.”

“Even without kissingthe frog?” Brienne snorts, not knowing why she plays along when everythinginside her mind screams at her to interrogate, to reason, but it seems to be asplainly as this: Jaime is the one person who makes her forget about reason, whogets her into the most foolish of fights – even if it’s only just about a deadfrog named Freddy.

“Well, so long youkeep kissing me, I will generouslyoverlook that,” Jaime says with a grin, toying with the hem of her tank top.

“Most kind of you,”Brienne snorts.

Jaime chews on hislower lip, seemingly contemplating once more. Brienne blinks.

Is that the moment where he will realize the realityof this situation and back out again?

Not that she didn’thave that before.

“And really, I didn’tmean that as a slight against you. I meant it as a joke. I wouldn’t want toactually hurt you like that,” Jaime tells her, looking Brienne deep in the eye,to be sure that she gets the message the right way this time. “You are the onlylab partner who’ll ever stick with me. How dumb would it be to chase you awaylike that?”

“Well, you almostmanaged,” Brienne huffs.

“But do you believe methat I didn’t mean for it?” Jaime asks, and Brienne cannot detect any sort ofgame in his voice, any sort of foolery.

Brienne swallows. “Isuppose I will have to…”

“Or I could prove itto you,” Jaime says with a smirk spreading across his face.

“And how would you dothat?” Brienne asks, cocking an eyebrow at him.

He kisses her againat once, grinning against her lips, easily falling back into a rhythm theydidn’t know existed between them until their lips collided.

Jaime really has tothank Freddy for it, as it appears.

While he didn’t knowjust how much he needed this, Jaime has to questions how he could ever livewithout just that contact right at this moment ever again.

So he better sees toit that his lab partner stays right where she is.  

Jaime hooks the indexfinger of his right hand through her waistband, giving it a teasing pull, butshe covers his hand with hers. “Not now. Not here. We won’t feed the nicknames.”

“The Lion does not…,”Jaime means to say, but Brienne cuts him off, “Don’t care.”

“Still a bit angry atme?” he asks, to which she snorts, “Not just a bit.”

“But let me tell you,this can be quite thrilling.”

“Not happening. Wearen’t even dating,” Brienne argues.

“Yet,” he adds. “But,to my defense, we had a lot of lab dates.”

“That doesn’t countas dates,” Brienne huffs. “Just because we had takeaway in some corner or drankcoffee at the cafeteria together doesn’t mean it is an actual date. You do knowwhat qualifies as a date, don’t you?”

“I once took you outfor a beer,” Jaime argues.

“Does not counteither,” Brienne snorts.

“Oh, c’mon, wench,don’t leave me hanging here now. Not after you gave me a taste of what I couldhave had in a long time if we both had opened our eyes to the plain factsbefore the fateful day Freddy hopped into our lives,” Jaime tells her,fluttering his eyelashes playfully.

“No.”

“C’mooooon.”

“You could treat me acoffee now,” Brienne suggests.

“Coffee?” He wrinkleshis nose.

Jaime was hoping forsomething entirely else, involving far less clothing, and preferably action inthe horizontal direction.

“That may count towards a date, now that we… kissed,” Brienne saysslowly, still trying to get accustomed to saying that – because it is now fact,though her hesitance doesn’t go unnoticed by Jaime, since his grin only becomesdarker upon the realization. “And once that is done, Euron will hopefully havecrept out of the lab so we can tidy up.”

“And then we go tothe changing rooms again and I go down on you?” Jaime suggests, beaming at heras he plays with the hem of her shirt again.

“Not very likely,”Brienne snorts, mentally cursing herself when she can hear the air catching inher throat.

“But not impossible,”Jaime argues.

“That would have to besome magical kind of coffee,” Brienne says. “And as we both know, magic doesnot exist.”

“Well, I can make itmagical with my company,” he chimes.

“It is not nearly asrewarding as you make it out to be.”

“It is far more rewarding than you let on,”Jaime insists. “The way you kissed back and mewled into my mouth, you sure ashell enjoy my company – a lot.”

Brienne shakes herhead. “You go on believing that.”

Jaime rewards herwith a dirty look, moving a little closer. “Kiss me again and I’ll prove it toyou, thoroughly.”

“I need caffeinenow,” Brienne says drily, hoping not to give away the game.

Because apparently,that is the fact of what is between them, too – that it is indeed a strangesort of game.

“So? Are you stillswitching teams?” Jaime asks.

“That is not outyet.”

He cranes his neck,studying her. “You didn’t talk to authorities yet?”

“I asked them for anew project. They said I could have one. I never specified what team I wantedto be part of,” Brienne explains.

“So, you didn’t wantto abandon me after all, wench,” he chimes.

She sighs. “Can wedebate on the ‘wench’ part?”

“If you call me your ‘lion’from now on?”

“Then I rather haveyou call me ‘wench’ for the rest of your days.”

“Pity,” Jaimegrumbles with a smirk. “But don’t you worry, you will hear me roar soon enough,like a true lion indeed.”

“That is not outyet,” Brienne huffs.

“I am fairly surethat this hypothesis will turn out true,” Jaime laughs. “Well, in any case,wench, now that you got a taste of that hot mess here, it’s only a matter oftime until you can’t live without me ever again.”

“Tells me the guy whoalmost threw a fit when I told him that I wanted to switch teams?” she snorts.

“Tells you the guywho can see very well that you would rather take this to the bedroom already,if you weren’t such an honorable and normally way too prudish woman, despitethe fact that you took quite a risk kissing here with me, though the door isnot even locked,” Jaime argues. “But I’ll get you there, wench. Just watch.Watch and enjoy.”

“And what of Freddybeing your new best friend?”

“He will always havea special spot in my heart,” Jaime says. “He brought us together. We areforever indebted to that little amphibian.”

“Freddy the Frog andMatchmaker.”

“I always knew he’dmake a great wingman. Even without the wings.”

“Can we get out ofhere now? I really need a coffee, and out of here. I try my best not to stayfor too long in the changing rooms.”

“Reasonable enough.Only the Gods will know what bacteria and fungi grow here,” Jaime says, makinga face. “Though if you really wanted to see the horror, you should see themen’s changing rooms.”

Brienne frowns. “Whywould I go there?”

“You already didbefore,” Jaime argues, pulling away slightly, to allow Brienne to move awayfrom the locker.

“That was byaccident, and I instantly headed out again.”

“Right, right, an accident.”

“Yes, an accident.”

“You wanted to seethat goodness before you even tried the whole package,” Jaime laughs.

“Did not.”

“Did, too.”

“At this rate, wewon’t be dating any time soon,” Brienne points out to him as they start walkingout the door.

“What? That issomething you long since got used to, you won’t get to ditch me over that,wench. As I said, you won’t get rid of me that easily.”

“Is that a threat?”

“An educated guess,based on the research I already did,” Jaime laughs, wriggling his index fingeraround as though he was a head teacher.

“Ahhhh.”

They round the nextcorner.

“So? Just todetermine the boundaries of our new survey: What is your stand on shaking it upin, say, the lab?” Jaime laughs.

“That if you want todo it, you will have to do it all on your own.”

“Car?”

Brienne shakes herhead. “I will not answer that question.”

“But we have todetermine the rules, the parameters!”

“We will conduct thatsurvey in due time, fret not.”

“But I have no timeto lose, wench. I already lost about a month! I have to catch up, fast. This istorture already.”

“Are you thatimpatient?”

“We are talking aboutme, of course I am that impatient. Don’t act surprised.

“Well, I am not hereto feed into your impatience. How did you say? I am supposed to inspire betterbehavior in you? How about you learn some patience?”

“Nah, I will justinspire the right behavior in you so that you give in to all of my requests.”

“That isstatistically… very unlikely.”

“Not once I got youin my bed. You won’t ever want to get out again. You will be wax in my hands.”

“One of the firstrules that we should agree on is that you don’t say such things where peoplecan hear us.”

“What? You want tohide me? Our secret love.”

“Don’t be sooverdramatic.”

“You want to deny ourundying love for each other! Of course I have to be dramatic. That is ascandal.”

“You areincorrigible.”

“I rather say that Iam unique – as are you.”

She smirks.

“Oh, and by the way?”

“Yes?”

“I get to punch somepeople in the face now, if they call you that name again.”

“That was a one-timething.”

“It’s only fair if Iget to punch someone now, too. Or else we won’t ever be even again.”

“Are you really thatantiquated?”

“I am verytraditional,” Jaime argues. “And even if not, the point is this: If we arehaving our twisted version of the Frog King, the least you can do is to leaveme to save the damsel in distress every once in a while.”

“I am neither a damsel,nor am I in distress. That is a plain matter of fact.”

“That still means youneed to be saved.”

“I can save myself.”

“Not from me.”

“That… is true,”Brienne says, blinking once it dawns on her that truly, she rid herself ofJaime Lannister, and neither cares to do it, because that game… it’s thrilling,it’s fun, and for some reason, she starts to forget about the slights andcomments already, if only for the easiness of the moment.

And truth be told,this new research area is something Brienne cannot deny interest in any more,though that is obviously something she will not let him know at once, or elseshe would never see the end of it.

Sometimes, or so itseems, your annoying lab partner is the one partner you can’t do without, eventhough you would rather do without.

The paradox of love,or so it seems.

Three Months Later…

“Wench, you are late.Coffee is getting cold already!” Jaime shouts as he sees Brienne approachinghim by the small table by the windows in the cafeteria of the Oldtown Institute.

While everything tooka sudden turn for the two since the Day of Freddy the Frog, the two wereperhaps most surprised themselves at how effortlessly they eased into their newsort of routine, because apparently, not much changed about their interactions,safe for Jaime being even more lewd in his comments, now with the goal ofteasing some very certain reactions out of his lab partner.

However, beside that,they act as though nothing changed, when in fact, everything did, and while bothare eager not to let on on that circumstance, they are glad for it, because itbrought something to their lives that they didn’t know was missing until theyfound it come to life caught between a wooden bench and a gray-painted locker.

Brienne sits down onthe seat across his, while he slides the Styrofoam cup over to her.

“Sorry, had to picksomething up,” Brienne says, running her fingers through her hair. Jaime is morethan pleased that she lets her unruly hair show every now and then, seeminglyhaving gathered some confidence ever since Freddy hopped in and out of theirlives. She no longer cares if the people find her hair a mess, because Jaimekeeps telling her that he likes it just like that, because she looks much morelike herself when she has her hair like that.

“You can’t just not show up in the morning,” he scoldsher, taking a sip from his sugary coffee that is already lukewarm thanks to thelong wait time. “I was fully expecting some satisfaction of certain biological needs and you were not thereto do that.”

Brienne rolls her bigblue eyes at him. Ever since he got a taste of just that action, Jaime can’tseem to get enough of it.

“I told you time andtime again that the little incident in the institute’s showers was a one-timeonly occurrence – and will by no means repeat itself ever again,” Brienne tellshim bluntly, lips wrapped around the cup to take a long sip.

“I wouldn’t call it alittle incident,” Jaime mutters, giving her a teasing look. “For that, you werescreaming far too loudly.”

“Shush,” shewhispers.

“What? They knowanyway that we are doing it.”

“I would still rathernot have people in on where we do what is our private business,” Briennehisses. Jaime laughs at that. While Brienne long since let go of most of herinsecurities while they are in private, only ever having flashes turn up everyonce in a while that he can quickly hush out of her by kissing her, and tellingher the plain facts that he wants her, needs her, and won’t let go of her everagain, she is still rather shy in private.

Though Jaime knows bynow that Brienne really just cherishes the private, and wants to shield whatthey now share among themselves from the glances of the others.

“Right. But in anycase, you can’t just go off without telling me where you are,” Jaime argues,puckering his lips, feigning upset.

“Of course I can,”she snorts. “I don’t have to have you aware of every step I take. don’t beridiculous.”

“Then what did you dowithout me? Other than thinking about me?” Jaime laughs. “Because that is theone thing I can always be certain about. It’s one of those wonderful facts, soeasy, yet so powerful.”

“A lot of things,which had apparently nothing much to do with you,” Brienne tells him, stickingout her tongue slightly. “You are by no means the only thing on my mind.”

“We could change thatrather quickly,” Jaime chuckles, only for his grin to turn darker when heallows his foot to playfully glide up her leg, which has Brienne jolt oh toodeliciously. Her expression is the third best thing in the world, the first twobeing kissing her and whatever it is that they do in the bedroom – or one ofthose other rooms Jaime manages to convince her of himself and his apparentbiological need for her.

“Not in the friggin’cafeteria, are you mad?” she grunts, kicking her leg to the side to rid herselfof him.

“You long since knowthat,” he snorts, leaning back in his chair slightly, relishing the faint blushcreeping up her freckled cheeks.

“Sometimes I justcan’t believe myself that I put up with you,” Brienne sighs, shaking her head.

“You put up with mebecause you know what I can put in…,” Jaime means to say with a lewd smile, butBrienne cuts him off before he can get to it, “I will stop you right there.”

“You wouldn’t besaying that if we were in another location,” Jaime chimes, chuckling softly ashe takes another sip of the colder growing coffee.

“Well, butapparently, we are in this location,” Brienne argues.

“Right, where we hadour first official date. Makes you nostalgic, doesn’t it?” Jaime sighs, puttingon a dreamy expression that has Brienne only ever roll her eye at him.

Truth be told, itstill catches her off-guard to find out that this is her reality now. Waking upnext to him, waking up with him wrapped around her waist, or waking up to himwanting to have another round, depending on the circumstance and stamina, whichJaime surely is not lacking by any means.

However, Briennegrows more and more accustomed to the idea precisely because she realized thatthis reality is far better than the one that they had before the Day of Freddythe Frog. In this reality, she has a man who apparently wants her, needs her,even, not just her approval, but her as a person, her by hi side – and that asmuch as Brienne had to learn she wants and needs him by her side.

Because apparently,it is Jaime who makes her feel like loosening up, leaving the schedule asidefor a while, if only for a quick kiss in the hallways, or stealing away beforeclosing time to get home fast enough because they need each other desperately.

Apparently, statistics can be very wrong at times. Orperhaps they are just overrated when applied to real life instead of just thereal of the sciences.

“… In any case. Youare getting a reward today,” Brienne says, which has Jaime sit up in his seatat once.

“A reward? Foroutstanding sex? I always knew there was a prize for it and that I would win itone day,” he laughs.

She shakes her headwith a smirk. “No prize for that, sorry.”

“I will consider it assuch, no matter what you say,” Jaime argues, hugging his chest.

“If you keep it up, Iwill just take the reward back with me to my place,” Brienne warns him.

“Speaking of which,when are you going to give in and just move into my place so that we can justgo home and get to bed at once? We are losing valuable time,” Jaime points outto her.

It has been a recenttopic of debate, though the two have yet to conduct a survey about the matter,or make a list, as it appears, because there are so many factors weighing in atthis point that both don’t know what position they are arguing for or againstby the end of the day.

“And I already toldyou a number of times that we will not rush this through just because you want tospeed through all the steps.”

“I just want to takethe initiative.”

“Don’t you always?”

“That is my kind ofcharm.”

“Just that it is notcharming.”

“We both know you wantto be with me the whole time. You just play the hard-to-get, as always,” Jaimehuffs, amused.

Though truth be told,he enjoys that kind of game. It makes winning ever the more rewarding. And thatis perhaps the greatest thing about this new set of rules between them now:Jaime feels like winning almost all the time. Because now, even getting into anargument can be very rewarding once they make up in all the delicious ways thathe could only ever imagine while they were only just lab partners.

“I don’t want to havethat discussion right now. As I said, it’s about the reward, not your suddenlife-changing plans,” Brienne points out to him.

“Fine, consider the discussion delayed. Ishould probably better ask you after you turned to goo in my arms after yetanother round of fucking you senseless. It will be far easier to convince youthen,” Jaime says in a lower voice, the blush on Brienne’s cheeks already asmall warm-up reward.

“And telling me that torpedoed any plan of yours toactually pull off that trick. You played yourself, man,” Brienne huffs, bendingdown to fish something out of her bag, only to take out a big jar with mossinside.

“I am getting a jar?No swear jar, I hope? I always hated these things already as a kid,” Jaimegrumbles. “Seriously, you better swear it all out instead of bottling it up. Ishould be able to tell, have been doing that for years, and see where it got meuntil I started letting it all out with you again.”

“No swear jar,” sheassures him with a grin. “And in any case, you are not so badly off, are you?”

“Not anymore. But youlet me swear… most of the time. And let’s be real, you swear like a sailor whenyou rock yourself into…,” Jaime means to say, but Brienne cuts him off, “Whatdid I say?”

“Leave me some fun, c’mon.”

“I give you far toomuch slack already,” she huffs. “Anyway, back to the jar that is no swear jar.”

“Yes?”

“Well, I thought itwould be a nice gesture to compensate your loss of Freddy the Frog,” Briennegoes on to say.

“Man, that autopsynearly had me in tears. Though I am glad he died of natural causes after all,”Jaime says, tapping the flat of his hand against his chest. “Freddy, my man. Ialways have him right here with me.”

“Precisely, so I thought I would fulfill your dream and get you apet friend, but one that is apparently notdead,” Brienne says, before she turns the jar around to reveal a small greenfrog with yellow and brown dots on the back, which looks very much like Freddydid. “Picked him up at the pet store today. He’s yours.”

Jaime grabs the jarwith both hands, letting the jar slide across the table, almost planting hisnose against the glass to look at the amphibian hopping around inside. “Oh,that is wonderful. I don’t know what to say. Look at you, Freddy 2.0.”

“Seriously? That is the best you can come up with?” Brienneblurts out.

“What? That is whathe is. And it is in loving memory of the little froggy who brought us together.The least we can do for our little matchmaker frog,” Jaime argues, tapping hisindex finger against the glass. “See? Freddy 2.0 likes it.”

“He’s your pet, soyou get to name him.”

“Thank you.”

“That also means youhave to tend to him and feed him. I will not do that.”

“But wench, thatcould be our little green baby, as a try-out for actual babies.”

“What did we sayabout leaping too far ahead?”

“I am just taking theinitiative.”

“We see how Freddy2.0 fares, then we see about everything else.”

“So that is no ‘no’to little, blond warrior babies?”

“That is no ‘yes,’ ifthat is what you are trying to imply,” Brienne huffs.

“Oh, and I have somepleasant news for you,” Jaime says. “Not as pleasant as this most wonderfulgift, but… still entertaining even for you, I am sure.”

“Which would be?” Brienneasks, blinking.

“Euron and his gangare in hospital.”

“How is that pleasantnews for me?” Brienne asks, curling her lips into a frown.

“They somehow got themselvesinfected with their stupid little fish experiments. Some fungal infection thatis highly contagious, because they didn’t properly clean up or so, at leastthat is what I heard from Samwell Tarly, and that guy has no reason to lie tome,” Jaime snickers, clapping his hand on his knee.

It still makes him laugh,no matter how many times he heard it by now already.

“Seriously?” Briennegapes.

“Seriously.” Jaimenods. “They announced it this morning in public, and as I said, Sam confirmedanother time. This is about as certain as your everlasting love for me and mygreat sense of humor.”

“I hope they will bealright?” Brienne grimaces.

Gladly, Euron neverreported her, as Jaime predicted, seemingly not wanting to admit that he gotbeaten by a woman. While he still takes his pleasure in teasing them about “theKingslayer and his Whore,” Brienne and Jaime found that they couldn’t careless.

“Euron can die forall I care, but it’s nothing too serious. It just gave them nasty rashesmatching their nasty behavior. I would say that karma finally smacked the rightpeople across the face,” Jaime chimes. “See? Everything turned out right foronce.”

“Which isstatistically speaking still very much a miracle,” Brienne points out to him,but then cranes her neck. “Would you keep the jar’s lid shut?”

“I want to take agood look at my new pet!” Jaime argues as he goes on unscrewing the cap.

“Jaime! Stop it now!”

“What? I am the FrogWhisperer. They listen to me.”

“Freddy was dead, youremember?”

“And Freddy 2.0 willsurely not disappoint me. He’s a good frog, I can see it in his eyes,” Jaime mutters,taking off the lid to reach inside.

“You already saidthat about Freddy, First of his name,” Brienne argues, crossing her arms overher chest.

“He has Freddy’sspirit. And since that is surely true, this one will bring us one step closerto reaching the next level of our relationship, I am sure,” Jaime chimes. “Youwill be my new wingman, won’t you, Freddy 2.0?”

Brienne just watchesas the little frog hops out of the jar, right on Jaime’s arm, onto the table,and then to the ground.

“Freddy 2.0! Heel!”Jaime shouts, already getting up from his seat to gather the amphibian, but thelittle animal has apparently other plans, hopping away from him before Jaimecan catch Freddy the Second.

Brienne can donothing but laugh, covering her face with her hands as her body keeps shakingwith laughter as she sees Jaime chasing the frog, hoping to catch the thingbefore the service personnel comes back to see a frog hopping through thecafeteria, which is surely not allowed.

“Wench, help mealready!” Jaime shouts, but he can only ever hear her laugh, which he wouldenjoy far more if not for Freddy 2.0 betraying him right now.

“Here, froggy,froggy. Here, froggy, froggy.”

“You had to opent ehlid.”

“Just help mealready!”

“No way. He’s yourpet.”

“Freddy, c’mon!”

Brienne leans her headback, chest still heaving from laughter.

The rules of her newlife still have her baffled and confused some many times, but so long this isthe outcome of their little experiment, she will gladly run along.

“Freddy! Come back!”

And all that becauseof frogs.

[trueheda]

@youngcst gets a married thing

                            she’s a princess ( of sorts ) ---- a would be queen. it’s a strange concept to try to wrap her head around, arm laced gracefully around that of her husband as she watches the streets of polis awe racing through her. she was supposed to be here years ago for a conclave. the QUEEN hadn’t thought she was ready, and they hadn’t gotten a chance to take back the throne of the raging city. not yet ----- but soon. she’s careful to stay by his side as they walk, letting attention be pulled over to the strong man besides her as she takes in little details of the city, merchant’s clans, exit routes --- how heavily armed the guards are. which ( to her utter disappointment ) aren’t nearly as heavily armed as they should be.                                            they’re greeted by trikru ---- a council meeting called for peace. not something they were looking for, and ontari makes a point, to keep herself in his side as they enter throne room. there’s no heda on the throne ---- and it’s a small question in the back of her mind of where the tyrant has run off to for the day. leaning up into his ear and whispering the small observation. “ she’s gone. keep an eye on the fleimkepa ” before covering the whisper with a small peck on his cheek. young love so deceitful. 

it’s a CLEVER and dangerous move to have the prince of azgeda and his wife ( a natblida; though the other clans weren’t quite privy to said information ) present at the council instead of their ambassadors. azgeda’s voice thus held more POWER in their demands and wants. and it allowed for nia to be kept out of danger. with the tyrant commander as unstable as she was ---- the idea that she may behead their mother was a little too realistic to want to test.               the meeting goes as planned nothing extraordinary ----- ontair herself finds it all quite boring seeing as she’s not allowed to participate. watch, observe, learn. the queen’s voice echos over and over again in her mind. watch, observe, learn. she doesn’t care she wants to rule. and nova deserves better than having to be second place. she doesn't understand whey they groom him for the crown when roan is still rightful heir. why won’t nia just DISOWN HIM now that he’s been banished ? so that nova can take his rightful place as king. 

it’s all POLITICS and bullshit. but she’ll give polis one advantage to azgeda, and that it’s that she can undress without having to worry about getting cold if a breeze comes through the window. looking at herself in the mirror she wonders when it will start to show. ( if it will start to show ). but they got married at just the right time... and well... usually that indicates that it’s going to happen soon. she’s bare --- and can’t tell quite yet. but the crow’s going to have an heir soon. which is probably why she wants him to be NEXT IN LINE so badly. or she needs to rule polis. whichever comes first she supposes. its the BED’s noise that catches her attention away from the mirror and she tosses the blonde an annoyed smile as she crosses her arms over her chest turning around and giving nova a look. that rather pointedly screamed ‘ don’t rush me ’. but she walks over to the bed anyway and leans over it to give him a light kiss before climbing in. “ you were a fuckin’ ass today you know. ” comes the small whisper as she settles in next to him. there’s a melted feeling of warmth that comes as her fingers touch his skin, tracing lightly over battle scars. “ they’re going to fucking hate you. just like i do... ”

voice trails, but the joke remains. her eyes flicker up for a moment to catch his before returning to their task. i was thinking, we should just stay and kill the commander now that we’re here. “ how much longer are we supposed to play politics. ” as long as nia wants. she dosen’t think it fits them. but she’ll play along. if it means a better life for him when they get back, it’ll be great. a great honeymoon too nia sending them off to do political shit. she stops tracing, as her thoughts come to a sudden halt. “ ----- are you alright... i haven’t asked since... before ---- ” the wedding “ ---- and i know... well... ” it’s only been a week. “ ... so, are you okay ? ”

[sshbpodcast]

Tales from the Holodeck: Star Trek/Star Wars Mashup: Ames’s Story

In celebration of A Star to Steer Her By’s second anniversary, we broke out the "Tales from the Holodeck” fanfic again and wrote up some mashup stories combining Star Trek and Star Wars! We picked our series and allowed the force to guide us where we went from there. You can listen to all the fanfic on the podcast, or read them here! This is Ames’s short story written out. Live long, prosper, and may the force be with you.

[images © Lucasfilm, Disney, CBS, Paramount, etc.]

“The Solo Algorithm”

by Ames

Random Picks: Star Trek: TNG / Star Wars Anthology Series

I'd been staring at the plans for the Death Star for the entire morning, poring over every detail of the computer code until I could see them burning on the backs of my eyelids. My head buzzed. My office appeared blurry. This was easily the biggest project I'd worked on, so complex that I had to keep a cheatsheet next to my monitor with all the algorithms scrawled in my unsightly handwriting. My intercom shouted at me every few minutes with new requests until I had to turn on the auto-response so I could claw at the blueprints for some futile minutes in peace. I came to the determination that whoever had designed this project had fucked up.

I flipped the intercom back on. "You have 1001 messages!" screeched the mechanized voice of the auto-response system. "Press one to hear your messages!"

I dialed in the number for the inventory manager, whose line was also going to auto-response. A curt, concise: "Inventory. Please consult the database."

Rolling my office chair behind my desk, I bumped the rear wall of my cube. We were not allowed windows. We were not allowed doors. We were not allowed to see any of the other workers in untold other cubes, fitted only with enough room to sit at our computers and stare at the wall of monitors while we incessantly worked through what was assumably the workday. Sometimes I could hear the occupants of neighboring cubes bump against my wall and mutter some profanity, occasionally an apology. A tiny, simple houseplant I'd custom-designed and printed sat on my desk so that I wouldn't go stir crazy.

I brought up the database and started searching through it. We could build starships, we could design worlds, we could create artificial beings with personalities that could fool a Turing test, but whoever maintained the database was the true mastermind of this operation. The task sheet was several thousand pages of cells that delineated the job breakdown because we had to account for everything, no matter how minute, and whoever had bungled the Death Star would be on it somewhere.

It was afternoon when I'd tracked down the culprit out of everyone else developing the plans. I pulled up an extension number with no name – we didn't go by those – and called their intercom. They didn't have their auto-response on.

"Make it quick; I've got to finish this damn thing," came the genderless voice on the other line. I would never meet this person, as I would never meet any person here. It's possible I'd spoken with them many times on countless other projects, and just as possible our degrees of separation had been infinite until today.

"Uh. Hi. Say, have you noticed something wrong with the Death Star plans?" I asked. I stared at my little houseplant and drummed my fingers on my desk.

My counterpart groaned. "You're obviously going to have to be a whole lot more specific than that." I could hear them typing nonstop through my earpiece, working endlessly even while we talked.

I pulled up the design plans again and zoomed in. The pixels fuzzed and then sharpened as I scrutinized a certain section that had gotten me scratching my head. "Well… Uh, take a look at the superlaser reactor," I started. "I'm kinda reviewing the code and, uh, if there were a pressurized explosion there-"

"The whole station will blow. Yep," they said, as matter-of-factly as possible.

"Oh, so you're working on it? I figured it was a mistake and I just wanted to make sure-"

"No, you don't get it. It's supposed to do that."

I stopped fidgeting in my chair and stared at the intercom as if I expected to see something there. My brow thoroughly furrowed, I managed a "Wha- Why?"

They snorted at me. "Players have to be able to beat the Death Star – it's the damn trigger for the next cut scene." It sounded really simple and obvious when they said it. We builders don't always think about the reasons behind the designs we construct; we just do them to check them off from the inexhaustible database, which assigns us a new project, and on and on into oblivion. They continued, "No one's gonna play the damn game if there's no way to beat this level. Didn't you read the wireframe specs? The flaw is there intentionally for the storyline to- Oh, goddammit shit on a fuck! Hang on!"

I jerked my chair away from my desk and smacked it against the wall. My adjacent unseen neighbor yelled something muffled and I could hear them give the wall a hit with the palm of their hand. "Sorry!" I called out.

In my earpiece, the codewriter on the intercom was still letting out a raucous stream of profanity. "Cockass fucking shithole piece of hell!" they shouted.

I hesitated between hanging up on them so they could get back to their obviously important work, and apologizing for existing in the first place to wreck their day so utterly. "Oh jeez," I stammered, "I shouldn't have brought it up; I- I- I'm sure you've got it under control. I, uh, I'm sorry to have bothered you."

"No, for fuck's sake, it's fine, dumbass. The Death Star is ready to roll out, dammit. It's just this other project just keeps not coming the hell together. I'm supposed to be coding Han Solo and he keeps coming out fucked up."

"I'm sorry," I squeaked.

"Stop apologizing! Now I've got to undo a day's worth of edits on his stupid charisma levels, but then his whole personality generator will be imbalanced and he'll just be too much of a miscreant for this assignment. This whole character sheet is fucking impossible. I wish I could just start from scratch and delete this son of a bitch."

My hands were shaking as I listened to them shout at me over the intercom, and I focused on my tiny potted plant. I had made it to give me something real to look at in this grey, claustrophobic mimicry of an office, otherwise made up of screens and machines. Everything else black or metal, even my hulking metal desk. The plant was just a couple tiny leaves, simple, uncluttered. I could have made a flower, but the greenness of the ittybitty leaves were just what I needed to make myself feel composed, justified. Like my existence in this world were validated. I took a quick breath before gliding my chair closer to my desk. "Well… Then why don't you?" I asked.

"Why don't I what?" came the clipped reply. I heard more frantic clattering which echoed from the keyboard, more muffled cursing.

"Start from scratch? I do it all the time."

"What are you talking about? That's a waste of time. I've already got so far into developing this feckless cad. You have no idea how long- how many hours I've spent staring at- ugh, and he's got this fucking idiot ponytail I'm just sick of too! I just want to cut it right off his damn head!"

I tried not to laugh. Smiling, I went on, "You don't know about the Star Trek universe, do you?"

"What? No. The what?"

All of the developers loved the Star Trek universe. It was enormous. It contained nearly everything we'd ever created to date. And everything in it came from mistake after mistake after mistake, growing and evolving into the most realistic world we'd all ever built.  And it would never see the light of day.

"It's only where we've been dumping our botched projects for as long as I've ever known. What? You can't delete this Solo guy? Then I say scrap him for anything useful, rename the original file to anything else – uh, Okona or, I dunno, literally anything, – and dump it into the Trek ether. Here, I'll send you a link that a bunch of us have been using. I've got a ton of crap floating around in there."

I found the link to the virtual environment and messaged it to the developer's extension. Over my earpiece, I could hear the message pop up on their screen with a cartoonish bouncy sound. "This is a fuckin' live world?" they asked, incredulous.

"Yeah sure! I mean, it's programmed to never leave the test environment, so it'll never be found, but yeah. You put something in here, and you get it off your plate, and you can, I dunno, start over from the beginning . I do it all the time. I was on the Game of Thrones project and broke one of the Dothraki's foreheads somehow – really rough day, don't ask – so I renamed them Klingons and basically threw them in here. Now they're one of the biggest races in the universe."

"The garbage universe?"

"Ish? It's been running on its own for a long time now. And all the beings in there have their free will turned on, so they just sort of go, and write their own stories, and stuff like that. It's a downright lifesaver sometimes."

I'd heard about the Star Trek universe early on from another developer. This jury rigged quickfix had been passed along from person to person in this office as a way to work around efficiency checks and quality assurance, and it was rather brilliant. Another coder who kept bungling a Gandalf for the Lord of the Rings virtual reality game told me about it. They couldn't get the long white hair on the wizard to attach properly, so they just shaved it all off, renamed the file Jean Luc Picard, and shoved it in there. I heard that character's a starship captain now!

As far as I can tell, the first usage of the Star Trek universe was when someone was building The Master from the Doctor Who VR, accidentally overpowered the character, renamed him Q, and gave him sentience. After the coverup of that mistake, the whole galaxy started to come together on its own and turned into this enormous, complex behemoth where the characters have no idea that they are programs, the worlds are first drafts that have evolved into huge functioning civilizations, and the stories write themselves into the cosmos of what's effectively a galactic recycling bin.

My counterpart was silent on the other end of the line for a long time, without even more typing to be heard. They spoke in an awestruck whisper. "I'm looking at this universe, and holy shit."

"Yeah, I know."

"Thanks a shit-ton for showing me."

"Hey, no prob, really, just doing what anyone would do."

"Who are all these space elves I'm seeing?"

"I dunno. Probably Vulcans? They're sort of neat," I said.

"Why isn't THIS what we're building?" they finally exclaimed in ecstacy. "People would play the hell out of an open-world sandbox program like this! It's fucking majestic! It's… it's everything!"

I didn't have an answer for that. We developers try not to dwell too much on our purpose in life, spent forever logged into office cubes, staring at blinding monitors, where we create everything the database tells us to whenever a project calls for a new character or item or vehicle or anything, no matter how big or how small. We have to account for all of it while we literally build the world and everything represented in it.

"Yeah, it's pretty great." I hesitated for a second while I couldn't stop from smiling at the sheer splendor of the world we'd unknowingly nurtured. "Hey, can I tell you something, friend?"

"What's that?"

"Can you go check how a planet called Bynaus is doing?"

"Bynaus? Uh, sure. Let me see." I heard some clicking and waited for a reaction to what they might see. "There's a little humanoid being down there. Cute little shit."

I trembled, grinning, tears starting to form in the corners of my eyes. "That… That little humanoid… That's me."

"That's you? You built yourself?"

"Something like myself. Like, an interpretation of myself. I kinda wanted some version of me to exist somewhere in the playable universe. Maybe it's stupid-"

"Naw, it's not stupid, it's cool," they scolded me. "You named yourself 01?"

"It's from my extension number."

"Oh my god." There was another pause and more clicking I could hear. Finally, the other spoke up. "I'm gonna build myself to keep you company. I'm gonna be 10."

"Oh! You don't have to do that…" I was surely blushing, though the other developer would never know it.

"Already did. I just copied your file and mirror imaged it. Stupid easy."

I opened the universe and watched the two Bynars – me and a nearly identical programmer I would never meet – as they conversed rapidly to each other, going about their days as if they were real people, ignorant that they were just two pieces of code living in a virtual world.

"I should get back to my jackass Han Solo problem," they said. "I may keep the vest, but everything else is just horseshit."

"Sure."

"Nice talking with you."

"You too. Hey, another suggestion," I said.

"What's that?"

"You should print yourself a houseplant for your office. They're nice, I think."

I logged out of the office environment at the end of the workday, and pulled the virtual reality set from my head. I immediately felt ten pounds lighter. And that night, as I stared out my apartment window at a slightly pixelated setting sun and a program depicting a city full of apartment buildings implying masses and masses of people, I felt optimistic about the world for the first time in a long time. "Computer," I said, as I stretched my legs and shook out my arms, "load program Star Wars: Escape from Corellia."

Thanks for reading! If you’re hungry for more, check back here for Caitlin, Jake, and Chris’s stories, revisit our first batch of TOS fanfic here, keep listening to the podcast, and follow A Star to Steer Her By on Facebook and Twitter. Be sure to tip your yeoman!

[masterprocess]

Limited-fucking-slip differential

Sometimes I feel like I’m only having something close to half the human experience. I have a difficult time placing the emotions I have, and most of the time my brain can’t get it together well enough to make some words. There’s a pang at the bottom of my stomach. It feels like how a shell casing dropping on the ground sounds. There’s a smell in the house I sleep in that’s been bothering me for weeks. There’s a crick in my neck that I can’t get out. The room I sleep in isn’t cozy. It has mood shifts, and it can’t decide on a temperature. The smell isn’t right, and the clutter in here that isn’t mine blocks my mind like dirt clogging up a dam. I’m trying to remember my vacation from January, but I can only remember a few events. There’s a lump of coal in the middle of my lungs. It’s making me tense. I have a psychology book that I’ve been reading for class, and it’s mostly garbage, but this is how residual anxiety feels for me, I think. Have you ever been on a raft pulled by a boat? That’s kinda how time feels like sometimes. Regrets will build up and up and up, and you can either let them hit you and drag you into the water, or you can hold the fuck on and get the fuck through it. I’ve had a suitcase beside my bed for three months now. It’s been a quarter of a year and this toe jabbing irritant won’t get out of my life. It can’t go back where it is intended to, though. Someone told me that its home was being cleaned for some such nonsense. I’d rather have the walking spaces cleaned first. Toe jabbing is not fun. My parents have turned it into a sport, though. My parents are, on balance, alright people but they have a lot of issues that I doubt they’ll ever find the willpower to work through. 1) They won’t let go of the clutter in their life.

2) They have a hard time accepting the transient nature of life.

3) They don’t know how to interact.

4) They have a hard time imagining others as complex humans.

5) They are relatively resistant to any kind of change.

I have my own problems too. I have difficulty expressing myself, and my brain is kind of like a computer that randomly has it’s RAM wiped every so often for no discernable reason.

From an early age, I discovered my limits. If I set my mind to something, no matter how difficult, complex, or incomprehensible, I will eventually accomplish my task. The issue was never so much my ability so much as it was being able to make my body do what I wanted it to do. Beautiful sculptures and paintings clutter my mind, and no human has ever created them, but they will never be done justice. Hands are tools and these tools are defective. They shake, and they don’t make the lines they are commanded to make.

The Roman Empire fell because they were unwilling to become who they needed to be.

Why is money such an important concept? Why should I care about money?

I like listening to this song called “Royals” by Lorde. It’s catchy, it has a good use of the synth, I like the lyrics, and I like the singer’s voice.  The just of the song is that the music industry, and by extension the entire baby-boomer economy is entirely out of touch with the world. It’s materialist to the extreme. It’s narcissistic. It’s malignant to the world. These aren’t necessarily things the song itself says, but the thin strings of the ideas are woven through the song. If you think about it for too long, you’ll start arriving to the same conclusions as my autistic ass. The lyric “we crave a different kind of buzz” and then later on “ Life is great without a care, we aren't caught up in your love affair” gives that ethereal touch to the brain that “remember you can’t take all this fucking shit with you when you’re cold and dead in the ground.” If you believe in the afterlife, which I don’t know if I do, then the only thing you take is yourself. So you get the idea of you, and maybe some memories if you’re lucky. That’s the part that fucks with me, though. I can barely remember my most recent vacation, let alone “key childhood memories.” If the afterlife exists, there better not be a multiple choice test at the end because it’s gonna send me straight to hell. In front of me are three boxes of clear icicle lights which 

1) probably don’t work

2) will never ever see use again even if they do work because everybody is too afraid of dying to get up on the hospital to set them up (not that I blame them), and of course

3) need to be thrown in the goddamn garbage already

But come November, these fuckers will be in the same place, on top of some books that won’t be read in this household ever again and my mom will be budget shopping in wal-mart or target or whatever other consumerist baby boomer shithole is the vibe the wallet is giving this year for some more fucking lights which will pile on top of the old ones and continue the same cycle. I’ve had a word stuck in my head for the past year, and it repeats itself overandoverandoverandover again until I’m insane at 3AM. You wanna know the stupid ass word? LIMITED-SLIP DIFFERENTIAL.

The limited-slip differential is a specialized part for cars that either go off-road or on ice a lot. The differential is a part placed in the middle of the axle between two wheels so that a car can easily handle turns. When a car turns, the wheel on the inside of the turn moves slower because it doesn’t need to as much speed to cover the same relative distance as the wheel on the outside. The wheel on the outside of the turn, on the other hand, has to move much more quickly than the inside to cover the distance. It is because of this, the Chinese invented the differential back in the 3rd century to be placed on the middle of the axle so we can split the speeds of both wheels without destroying the vehicle. The limited-slip differential is a special version of the regular differential that has the benefit of being able to lock one wheel from spinning. This makes traveling slippery terrain much easier because as long as you have one wheel on relatively solid ground, you can still move your vehicle. This is all fine and dandy, but my brain can’t stop repeating this fucking word in my head over and over again. Well, I mean it’s more like a term for a vehicle part that is made up of three words, but whatever. I don’t care.

I have a series of poems that are pretty shitty that I was supposed to give my girlfriend a while ago, but they’re all pretty much garbage? I have a difficult time imagining why someone would want to read them. They’re all really basic, and there’s not a lot of depth to them, and I’m not a lesbian hermit who just sits in her room and writes poetry all day so I mean. It doesn’t really feel worth the effort to read them? I haven’t told my mom about being Bi, but she probably knows. I don’t really give a shit one way or the other, but I’m really not up for a big fight from dad.

Of all things, I’m worried that I won’t be able to get a fucking Nintendo console. I’ve been talking about it ad nauseum for about a month now, and everyone is about crazy with me. Special Interests are like that. I feel like a piece of shit for bringing up my SIs to anyone anymore because I just infodump out the heezy, which I’ve been told has a suffocating effect to everyone around me. I suppose that’ll be fun to look forward to when I’m thirty and I’ve used up 12 more infodump cards in one day than I was allotted (not). 

Anyways, I didn’t get a pre-order on day 1 because I’m too afraid to ask for anything after I was screamed out for asking for gas money several times (even though my tank was empty, but w/e). I eat lunch for 3.91$ every other day so I can stretch that shit as far as it’ll fuckin’ go so I can reduce the amount of screaming fits that my mom produces. She almost had a fit on me today. I took my sister to this Korean supermarket which had every single food ingredient that originates in Korea, and we bought some candies and lunch for me, her, and mom. Well, executive dysfunction out the ass today and I have the distinct displeasure of forgetting her goddamn diet coke from McDonalds (she’s gonna kill herself with that poison someday) so I rush over to the MnaldsMcSub to bend my ass over and get her some poison, and then when I get back I give her the shit and eat some cold ass Korean. I’m probably gonna get a bitch fit at the end of the week for the Korean food because it ended up being like 15$ a person (which is expensive) and it was my suggestion to go over there. Not looking forward to that shit.

Needless to say, I’m looking forward to the day when I’m independent and don’t receive a bitch out every day of my life. I’m actually distinctly curious as to how my parents are going to interact with me after they don’t have the availability of their primary interaction with me (bitch out) available to them anymore. Will they manufacture reasons to bitch out an independent adult? Will they ask me to see my finances so they can chew me out about how I spend my own money? Or will they (far more likely) just neglect to interact anymore in the future, similar to how my dead grandfather decided to? Who the hell knows? Anyways, if you made it this far, then congration you dun it. This how residual anxiety work with my autistic ass.