#its okay though he has a whole alternate universe where's he's really fucking happy (most of the time) i prommy

[ressioo]

There's not much thats worse than finally getting free of your cage and realising that you feel even more lonely that before

That nothing has changed except that the touch you yearn for is now painfully within reach, yet you cannot have it

Basically Peepaw discovers that life off the string isn't like he thought it would be

And some fun on the string sig doodles, he's fucking miserable 👍

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 311: Hand Gun

Previously on BnHA: Horikoshi was all “thinkin’ about dropping in some woke analogies of the very real and very presently relevant issue of racial profiling idk what do you guys think” and then shrugged and did it without waiting for an answer, and ngl it was a bit sudden, but I’m here for it. All Might was all “DEKU YOU NEED TO EAT” and Deku was all “OKAY” and took his hero bento and went to go stand dramatically on a tower in the rain whilst having some highly anticipated Vestige flashbacks. OFA II was all, “sup, I guess I’m not Kacchan... OR AM I,” and ngl I think he is?? Alternate universes anybody?? Hello??? But anyway, so OFA the First a.k.a. Yoichi was all “remember that time you guys rescued me from my evil brother and Two took my hand and we Had A Moment?”, and Two and Three were all “ahh yeah good times”, and it was very nice and very, very gay. The chapter ended with it being very unclear if Two and Three have actually lent their power to Deku yet or not lmao. Y’all need to get your shit together dudes.

Today on BnHA: Horikoshi is all “what if I gave a random bad guy a fucking tommy gun that shoots nails” and jesus christ calm down son. The Hawksquad, a.k.a. SQUAWK as per @hotchocolatier​, are all “time to drive aimlessly around town acting like Deku has a restraining order on us because that’s literally the best plan to combat the League we could come up with,” and I have no further comment. Hawks is all “idk about you guys but I want to know more about AFO and Tomura’s whole deal” and I can’t remember the last time I identified so strongly with one of these characters. All Might is all, “[EXPLODES???]”, and the chapter ends with that mysterious hot girl from the Tartarus breakout being all “HELLO I CAN TURN INTO A GUN AND I LITERALLY DON’T GIVE A FUCK” and (1) WOW, and (2) IT’S TRUE, SHE CAN, AND SHE REALLY DOESN’T. GODDAMN.

(ETA: so this wholly escaped my notice on the first go, and also has nothing to do with the chapter itself, but I only just realized that this chapter was scanlated by a new group, TCB Scans. they actually did a very good job, and I’m curious if they’ve found a new RAW provider, because the quality this week is actually crazy good in comparison to what we’ve been dealing with for the past few months. I’m gonna have to get caught up on what exactly happened here lol.)

so what will it be this week? more Vestige antics? more of Sad Nomad Deku standing on buildings and pretending like he’s some cool aloof antihero, as if he could fool us when we all know his hero backpack is secretly stuffed full with his nerd diaries and the remnants of all the hero bentos that All Might keeps giving him?? or, just putting it out there, just a crazy thought, but you don’t suppose we might actually cut back to U.A.? mmm. side-eyes emoji

maaaaaan I’m starting to get tired of this trend of beginning chapters by dropping in on random power-tripping civilians and/or Shindou lol. just once can we get a chapter that opens with someone I actually give a fuck about

oh at least Endeavor is here

A WHAT SUPPORT ITEM!??! HOLY SHIT DDLKJSLFKJL

lol somehow that’s more terrifying than bullets for me?? like I’m fully aware that bullets will fuck you up way worse and that in real life nail guns probably don’t work like this AT ALL and only have a range of like... hold up let me just google... up to 100 to 150 m/s and distances of up to 500m wait WHAT

okay wait. hold up. like I was expecting google to tell me nail guns only shoot a few feet at most, and instead the first search result is some CDC blog article that’s “dispelling” the “””myth””” -- please note my repeated sarcastic quotation marks -- that nail guns can fire 1400 feet per second, by explaining that actually they can fire anywhere from 315 ft/sec to 1,295 ft/sec, and that “it is in the pneumatic nail gun user’s best interest to handle these tools as if they were a firearm despite having a lower velocity” dlkjdslkjflkl

SO THAT SCENE IN IRON MAN 3 WHERE TONY RAIDS A HOME DEPOT AND BUYS A BUNCH OF RANDOM TOOLS AND SHIT AND GOES ON TO STAGE A ONE-MAN INVASION OF AN INTERNATIONAL TERRORIST’S FLORIDA MANSION HQ IS ACTUALLY TRUE. YOU’RE TELLING ME THAT THE FILM “HOME ALONE” IS ACTUALLY A DOCUMENTARY. “the Discovery Channel television program “Mythbusters” compared the penetration capacity of an airborne projectile shot from a pneumatic framing nail gun to that of a 9mm hand gun” HELLO YES AND A MERRY “WHAT THE FUCK” TO YOU AS WELL

anyway, so. there’s apparently a reason why the Number One hero, who can burn people with the intensity of a sun going supernova, is hiding here behind this concrete support column making frowny faces. nope. nuh uh. he ain’t about that. I don’t blame you buddy

so now he’s barrel rolling out of his hiding place and setting this dude THE FUCK ON FIRE because HELL NO. BAD ENOUGH I HAD TO WATCH THAT FUCKING MUSHROOM EPISODE LAST WEEK! YOU TAKE THAT SHIT SOMEWHERE ELSE

LOL look at his face

I know the context is actually him being all “I know I’m responsible for basically everything that happened and so that’s why I’m so grim and serious about this mission to set things right piece by piece,” but in my mind this pissed-off face is 100% all because this dude tried to shoot his eye out with a nail gun. look at that. you made him go full flame face again. beard and all. protecting his face so that it can hopefully melt any stray nails that get too close. nope nope nope

good lord. so what’s up next. let me guess the guy fighting Best Jeanist has like an atomic chainsaw or some shit

lol nope we’re just cutting back to Hawks and Jeanist chilling in the Jesla after they’ve wrapped things up

Jeanist has got some serious Groot energy you guys jesus christ he’s like 12 feet tall

oh snap someone threw a pipe at him now

today is just the chapter of Endeavor being assaulted by random DIY tools I guess

I mean, I get why they’re pissed at him obviously; I would be too lol. but tbh I also don’t really understand the “get out of here we don’t want your help” attitude that all of these people suddenly seem to have?? like it if were me, I would be fucking DEMANDING for him and the other heroes to be working round the clock to fix their stupid mess. I mean who else is gonna do it?? it’s their mess, I sure don’t want to be the one to clean it up instead. anyways but whatever lol

oh shit?

so they haven’t dropped the whole “OFA secret potentially gets revealed to the world” thing yet after all. that makes sense I suppose, it did seem like that whole thing wound up playing out a bit too easily

anyway so yeah

the locals are definitely none too happy. well at least Dabi’s got something to be cheerful about I guess

so now we’re cutting to the interior of the Jesla and they’re chitchatting about the current investigation

oh wow this actually makes a bit of sense now. so there was a reason they were keeping their distance from Deku

please note that even in this abstract Endeavor’s-Mental-Image-Of-Him panel, Deku’s eyes still don’t have the light in them anymore :( my poor son

also ftr I still think using Deku as bait in this particular sense is the shittiest idea ever ngl. like sure, let’s let the sixteen-year-old run around battling miscellaneous escaped prison convicts while we stay several kilometers away ON PURPOSE despite the fact that you’re using him as bait to draw out the Big Bad, who just a reminder can destroy anything with a mere touch and who you were all basically helpless against. what exactly are you all planning to do if Tomura or one of the other League VIPs actually shows up to retrieve him?? are you even keeping tabs on him at all in real time?? jesus

(ETA: well that escalated quickly lol.)

Horikoshi is all of a sudden dropping whole pages of exposition here and I can’t be bothered to summarize this lol so just,

a big fat YES to what Jeanist said, though. that’s why imo they would have been better off laying a trap at U.A. rather than just wandering around out in the open. I assume they’re trying to cut their potential losses because U.A. is full of students (and civilians), but those students also happen to be more capable than pretty much anyone else in the manga at this point. and tbh they’re already in life-threatening danger regardless of how things play out from here on, so they might as well at least try to use the few advantages they have right now. U.A. is almost certainly going to come under siege at some point anyway, so they might as well prepare for it

lol I don’t think I’m explaining this very well because I don’t have the patience right now to break it down point by point like it really ought to be, so for now I’ll just say that imo “U.A. siege” stands a good chance of being the eventual endgame even now, and so this whole “Deku runs around being bait” arc is really just killing time until then lol. like and subscribe for more rambling nonsensical takes such as this. maybe next time I’ll even put it all into one single sentence for maximum meandering senior citizen rant value

well it’s nice that they’re finally talking about all of this I guess

we readers have known all of this for months now but this confirms the heroes are finally caught up. ALSO, Hawks is so fucking smart, as always. kinda wonder if things would have played out differently if All Might had let him in on the secret a bit earlier. probably that’s why Horikoshi made damn sure they didn’t find out until after the War arc lol

OH MY GOD YOOOOOO HAWKS OUT HERE ASKING THE REAL QUESTIONS

“anyone else wondering why AFO bothered to raise Tomura as his fake heir for fifteen years when he was secretly planning on taking over his body the whole time” YES, [raises hand] lmao Hawks where the hell were you when I was debating this “AFO is the final villain and Tomura is just his pawn” thing on multiple occasions over the past several years lol

lmao seeing them debate the metaphysics of OFA and all of its mystical bullshit is seriously surreal you guys

JEANIST HAVE YOU CHECKED OUT MY META TAG I HAVE WRITTEN SO MANY ESSAYS. I ACTUALLY WAS PLANNING ON WRITING ANOTHER ESSAY ABOUT THE THING THAT I’M PRETTY SURE HAWKS IS ABOUT TO BRING UP, BUT I NEVER GOT AROUND TO IT WHOOPS, BUT MAYBE I WILL NOW LOL LET’S SEE HOW IT GOES

yes!!

WHICH AFO FUCKING ENSURED HE WOULD BE BY LITERALLY PLANNING OUT EVERY LAST DETAIL OF HIS FAMILY TRAGEDY, FROM SECRETLY GIVING TENKO THE QUIRK TO MAKING SURE NO CIVILIANS OR HEROES WOULD HELP HIM UNTIL AFO FINALLY STEPPED IN. I’M 1000% CONVINCED THIS IS THE CASE YOU GUYS. NOT JUST BECAUSE I’M NOT A FAN OF “THE WORLD IS A FUNDAMENTALLY SHITTY PLACE, ACTUALLY” TAKES BECAUSE MISTER ROGERS TOLD ME TO ALWAYS LOOK FOR THE HELPERS, BUT ALSO BECAUSE IT LITERALLY JUST DOESN’T MAKE A LICK OF SENSE OTHERWISE. THEIR ENTIRE HOUSE CAVED IN FFS, YOU’RE TELLING ME NONE OF THE NEIGHBORS FUCKING OVERHEARD THAT SHIT AND WENT “UMMMMMMMMM” AND WENT TO SEE WHAT WAS GOING ON?? “DIDN’T THERE USED TO BE A HOUSE HERE, AND LIKE A WHOLE FAMILY, AND SHIT?”

LIKE I’M SORRY, BUT IT’S ONE THING TO SAY IT’S REALISTIC THAT NOT A SINGLE PERSON WOULD ATTEMPT TO HELP THE WANDERING TRAUMATIZED CHILD AFTERWARDS (WHICH I DISAGREE WITH AS WELL BUT AT LEAST THAT’S MORE SUBJECTIVE), AND IT’S A WHOLE OTHER THING TO ARGUE THAT IT’S REALISTIC THAT NO ONE WOULD BE FUCKING NOSY. LIKE THAT’S A WHOLE DIFFERENT LEVEL OF “THAT’S NOT HOW ANY OF THIS WORKS” ENTIRELY LOL. anyway tl;dr AFO is a piece of shit and Tomura’s entire worldview is based on a magnificently intricate and savagely cruel lie more at 11

anyway so after all that ranting it looks like that wasn’t even what Hawks was talking about after all lol. I just went off for absolutely no reason lol oh well. instead it seems that Hawks is suggesting that Tomura’s carefully cultivated hatred might not yet have actually reached “can defeat OFA” levels even after all of that trauma. interesting!

don’t mind me, I’m just sitting here while my brain furiously scrambles to put together all the parallels between Hawks and Tomura that it never noticed before until exactly this second. like I’m not even sure that was the intent here at all (I need to check out another translation or two lol), but regardless my mind decided that now would be the perfect time to make the connection between these two twenty-somethings who both had horrific childhoods and spent years being molded by their respective manipulative guardians, and developed eerily similar “laugh at everything because what else can you do” coping mechanisms to deal with it all hmmmmm

anyway so they were talking more about their strategy, but now all of a sudden Jeanist’s phone is beeping??

AND NOW WE’RE CUTTING AWAY TO ALL MIGHT AND HIS MIGHTMOBILE DAMMIT so that means the call to Jeanist was actually something important then!! WAS IT BAKUGOU OMG. DOES YOUR INTERN WANT A WORD FFFKLFSJK please it’s been so long I just need a little crumb or two to tide me over lmao have mercy

anyway so All Might’s following the GPS tracking device he’s apparently got planted on Deku (which in my conspiracy headcanons he’s actually had for a long time now, like since before DvK2 lol because HOW ELSE WOULD HAVE HAVE KNOWN THAT THEY WERE FIGHTING EACH OTHER IN GROUND BETA, PEOPLE) and thinking angsty thoughts about Deku’s sucky life

AND NOW ALL MIGHT’S PHONE IS RINGING TOO?? BAKUGOU HOW MANY PEOPLE ARE YOU CALLING. “WHERE ARE YOU HIDING THE NERD GODDAMMIT”

OMG

lol is he under attack or is he just finally giving All Might the slip like we all know he SECRETLY PLANNED TO ALL ALONG oh my poor dumb angstmuffin

OMG AHHHHHHH WHAT

DID ALL MIGHT JUST FUCKING DIE LMAO NO OF COURSE NOT, BUT WHAT

WHAT IS HAPPENING OMG

THE FUCK IS THAT. AT LEAST IT’S NOT A NAIL

OH IT’S A SPEAKER!! OMG DID THEY TAKE ALL MIGHT HOSTAGE

“THEY’RE HERE” WELP, TIME TO SEE JUST HOW SHITTY THIS SHITTY PLAN REALLY IS LOL

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

SHE!!!!

omg. AND OVERHAUL JUST CHILLING THERE IN THE BACKGROUND ALL “WHAT DO YOU EVEN WANT ME TO DO I’VE GOT NO FUCKING ARMS” YEAH GOOD RIDDANCE LOL

DOES THIS GIRL HAVE ONE GIANT LEG OR WHAT, LIKE WHAT’S THE DEAL HERE

-- HOLD UP WAIT, THE GUN IS HER ARM, HOLY SHIT SHE CAN TURN INTO A GUN -- OKAY HOLD UP BECAUSE I NEED TO SAY THAT IN BIGGER TEXT BECAUSE !!!!

YOU GUYS, THE COOL TARTARUS GIRL IS BACK AND HER QUIRK IS “CAN TURN INTO A FUCKING GUN.” THIS IS NOT A DRILL!! MY BEST GIRL MT. GUN IS FINALLY BACK ON THE SCENE WITH HER QUIRK “CAN DO ANYTHING A GUN CAN DO.” “I HEARD Y’ALL WENT AND NAMED ONE OF YOUR HEROES ‘GUNHEAD’ EVEN THOUGH HIS HEAD ISN’T EVEN A GUN, LIKE WTF IS UP WITH THAT LET ME SHOW YOU HOW IT’S DONE” DANG OKAY

lmao only fifteen pages this week, and STILL NO KACCHAN (THEN WHO WAS PHONE!!!), but man I don’t even care because finally we’ve got a cliffhanger that’s actually deserving of being a cliffhanger! hot dog. okay then

[queenlua]

hey, i started following you recently and ur bio says ur a hacker? any tips on where to start? hacking seems like a v cool/fun way to learn more abt coding and cybersecurity/infrastructure and i'd like to explore it but there's so much on the internet and like, i'm not trying to get into anything illegal. thanks!

huh, an interesting question, ty!

i can give more tailored advice if you hit me up on chat with more specifics on your background/interests.

given what you've written here, though, i'll just assume you don't have any immediate professional aspirations (e.g. you just want to learn some things, and you aren't necessarily trying to get A Cyber Security Job TM within the next three months or w/e), and that you don't know much about any specific programming/computering domain yet.

(stuff under cut because long)

first i'd probably just try to pick some interesting problem that you think you can solve with tech. this doesn't need to be a "hacking" project at first; i was just messing around with computers for ages before i did anything involving security/exploitation.

if you don't already know how to program, you should ideally pick a problem you can solve via programming. for instance: i learned a lot back in the 2000s, when play-by-post forum RPGs were in vogue.  see, i'd already been messing around, building my own personal sites, first just with HTML & CSS, and later on with Javascript and PHP.   and i knew the forum software everyone used (InvisionPowerBoard) was written in PHP.  so when one of the admins at my RPG complained that they'd like the ability to set multiple profile pictures, i was like, "hey i'm good at programming, want me to create a mod to do that," and then i just... did. so then they asked me to program more features, and i got all the sexy nerd cred for being Forum Mod Queen, and it was a good time, i learned a lot.

(i also got to be the person who was frantically IMed at 2am because wtf the forum is down and there's an inscrutable error, what do??? basically sysadmining! also, much less sexy! still, i learned a lot!)

the key thing is that it's gotta be a problem that's interesting to you: as much as i love making dorky sites in PHP, half the fun was seeing other people using my stuff, and i think the era of forum-based RPGs has passed. but maybe you can apply some programming talents to something that you are interested in—maybe you want to make a silly Chrome extension to make people laugh, a la Cloud to Butt, or maybe you'd like to make a program that converts pixel art into cross-stitching patterns, maybe you want to just make a cool adventure game on those annoying graphing calculators they make you use in class, or make a script for some online game you play, or make something silly with Arduino (i once made a trash can that rolled toward me when i clapped my hands; it was fun, and way easier than you'd think!), whatever.

i know a lot of hacker-types who got their start doing ROM hacking for video games—replacing the character art or animations or whatever in old NES games. that's probably more relevant than the PHP websites, at least, and is probably a solid place to get started; in my experience those communities tend to be reasonably friendly to questions. pick a small thing you want to do & ask how to do it.

also, a somewhat unconventional path, but—once i knew how to program a bit of Python, i started doing goofy junk, like, "hey can i implemented NamedTuple from scratch,” which tends to lead to Python metaprogramming, which leads to surprising shit like "oh, stack frames are literally just Python objects and you can manually edit them in the interpreter to do deliberately horrendous/silly things, my god this language allows too much reflection and i'm having too much fun"... since Python is a lot of folks' first language these days, i thought i'd point that out, since i think this is a pretty accessible start to thinking about How Programs Actually Work under the hood. allison kaptur has some specific recommendations on how to poke around, if you wanna go that route.

it's reasonably likely you'll end up doing something "hackery" in the natural course of just working on stuff. for instance, while i was working on the IPB forum software mods, i became distressed to learn that everyone was using an INSECURE version of the software! no one was patching their shit!! i yelled at the admins about it, and they were like "well we haven't been hacked yet so it's not a problem," so i uh, decided to demonstrate a proof of concept? i downloaded some sketchy perl script, kicked it until it worked, logged in as the admins, and shitposted a bit before i logged out, y'know, to prove my point.

(they responded by banning me for two weeks, and did not patch their software. which, y'know, rip to them; they got hacked by an unrelated Turkish group two months later, and those dudes just straight-up deleted the whole website. i was a merciful god by comparison!)

anyway, even though downloading a perl script and just pointing it at a website isn't really "hacking" (it's the literal definition of script kiddie, heh)—the point is i was just experimenting a lot and trying a lot of stuff, which meant i was getting comfortable with thinking of software as not just some immutable relic, but something you can touch and prod in unexpected ways.

this dovetails into the next thing, which is like, just learn a lot of stuff. a boring conventional computer science degree will teach you a lot (provided you take it seriously and actually try to learn shit); alternatively, just taking the same classes as a boring conventional computer science degree, via edX or whatever free online thingy, will also teach you a lot. ("contributing to open source" also teaches you a lot but... hngh... is a whole can of worms; send a follow-up ask if you want that rant.)

here's where i should note that "hacking" is an impossibly broad category: the kind of person who knows how to fuck with website authentication tokens is very different than someone who writes a fuzzer, who is often quite different than someone who looks at the bug a fuzzer produces and actually writes a program that can exploit that bug... so what you focus on depends on what you're interested in. i imagine classes with names like "compilers," "operating systems," and "networking" will teach you a lot. but, like, idk, all knowledge is god-breathed and good for teaching. hell, i hear some universities these days have actual computer security classes? that's probably a good thing to look at, just to get a sense of what's out there, if you already know how to program.

also be comfortable with not knowing everything, but also, learn as you go. the bulk of my security knowledge came when i got kinda airdropped into a work team that basically hired me entirely on "potential" (lmao), and uh, prior to joining i only had the faintest idea what a hypervisor was? or the whole protection ring concept? or ioctls or sandboxing or threat models or, fuck, anything? i mostly just pestered people with like 800 questions and slowly built up a knowledge base, and remember being surprised & delighted when i went to a security conference a year later and could follow most of the talks, and when i wound up at a bar with a guy on the xbox security team and we compared our security models a bunch, and so on.  there wasn't a magic moment when i "got it", i was just like, "okay huh this dude says he found a ring-0 exploit... what does that mean... okay i think i got that... why is that a big deal though... better ask somebody.." (also: reading an occasional dead tree book is a good idea. i owe my firstborn to Robert Love's Linux Kernel Development, as outdated as it is, and also O'Reilly's kookaburra book gave me a great overview of web programming back in the day, etc.  you can learn a lot by just clicking around random blogs, but you’ll often end up with a lot of random little facts and no good mental scaffolding for holding it together; often, a decent book will give you that scaffolding.)

(also, it's pretty useful if you can find a knowledgable someone to pepper with random questions as you go. finding someone who will actively mentor you is tricky, but most working computery folks are happy to tell you things like "what you're doing is actually impossible, here's why," or "here's a tutorial someone told me was good for learning how to write a linux kernel module," or "here's my vague understanding of this concept you know nothing about," or "here's how you automate something to click on a link on a webpage," which tends to be handier than just google on its own.)

if you're reading this and you're like "ok cool but where's the part where i'm handed a computer and i gotta break in while going all hacker typer”—that's not the bulk of the work, alas! like, for sure, we do have fun pranking each other by trying dumb ways of stealing each other's passwords or whatever (once i stuck a keylogger in a dude's keyboard, fun times). but a lot of my security jobs have involved stuff like, "stare at this disassembly a long fuckin' time to figure out how the program pointer got all fucked up," or, "write a fuzzer that feeds a lot of randomized input to some C++ program, watch the program crash because C++ is a horrible language for writing software, go fix all the bugs," or "think Really Hard TM about all the settings and doohickeys this OS/GPU/whatever has, think about all the awful things someone could do with it, threat model and sandbox accordingly." occasionally i have done cool proof-of-concept hacks but honestly writing exploits can kinda be tedious, lol, so like, i'm only doing that if it's the only way i can get people to believe that Yes This Is Actually A Problem, Fix Your Code

"lua that's cool and all but i wanted, like, actual links and recommendations and stuff" okay, fair. here's some ideas:

microcorruption: very fun embedded security CTF; teaches you everything you need to know as you're doing it.

cryptopals crypto challenges: very fun little programming exercises that teach you a lot of fundamental cryptography concepts as you're going along! you can do these even as a bit of a n00b; i did them in Python for the lulz

the binary bomb lab is hilariously copied by, like, so many CS programs, lol, but for good reason. it's accessible and fun and is the first time most people get to feel like a real hacker! (requires you know a bit of C beforehand)

ctftime is a good way to see when new CTFs ("capture the flag"s; security-focused competitions) are coming up. or, sometimes CTFs post their source code, so you can continue trying them after the CTF is over. i liked Stripe's CTFs when they were going, because they focused on "web stuff", and "web stuff" was all i really knew at the time. if you're more interested in staring at disassembly, there's CTFs focused on that sort of thing too.

azeria has good ARM assembly & exploitation tutorials

also, like, lots of good talks out there; just watching defcon/cansecwest/etc talks until something piques your interest is very fun. i'd die on a battlefield for any of Christopher Domas's talks, but he assumes a lot of specific x86/OS knowledge, lol, so maybe don’t start with that. oh, Julia Evans's blog is honestly probably pretty good for just learning a lot of stuff and really beginner-friendly?

oh and wrt legality... idk, i haven't addressed it here since it hasn't come up in my own work much, tbh. if you're just getting started you're kind of unlikely to Break The Law without, y'know, realizing maybe you're doing something a bit gray-area? and you can cross that bridge when you come to it? Real Hacking TM is way more of a pain-in-the-ass than doing CTFs and such, and you'll learn way more with the latter, so who cares lol just do the fun thing

[morepeachyogurt]

we are good people (and we've suffered enough)

word count- 2.5k      Pairing- Temily

Summary- After Scratch, Tara and Emily run away to Italy to start a new life, ft. cats, cafes, and gardening. Based on this post, and this prompt. 

Part 2 of my, maybe we’re from the same star, series, work is a standalone, part 1

read here on ao3

tw’s- very minor mentions of substances and ptsd

Things were never the same after Mr. Scratch. The two of them were filled with more trauma than they had room for in their hearts to still hold each other in. Nights were no longer filled with a movie and cuddling, or talking about philosophy but tense sentences, paranoia, and nightmares. Tara knew that something needed to change, anything to stop the monotony of desolation. But still, they went to work every day and drowned their sorrows in killers like that would bring back the part of her that died when Scratch took Emily. There are only so many times one can be held captive and wait for death before something inside them breaks.

One night they get wine drunk, Emily laying sidewise on their black couch, and Tara sitting on the table staring at the ceiling.

“I miss being young, god, that’s such a weird thing to say. I mean, I spent my youth hating it. Hated my mother, and all of our traveling, never could make friends. I hated that I never belonged, hated not being in control of my own life, and here I am 50 years old working for the government that I used to despise trying not to cry myself to sleep every night,” her voice takes on a bitter tone.

“We love in our old age the things we hated as children. Does that make us matured or foolish?”

“Both, I think.”

“What was your favorite place to live? I mean it sounds like hell to keep moving between places but there must have been someplace you loved, right,” Tara’s voice fills with a tang of desperation as she searches for a way to help her lover.

“Rome. The weather and the scenery,” her voice takes on a dreamy tone, “and the food! Man, the food is good, don’t tell Rossi but his carbonara tastes like Olive Garden compared to the real thing,” they both chuckled at that, knowing it would have sent Rossi in a fit if he were to hear that.

“That sounds really nice honey.”

“I miss it sometimes you know? I think about how gorgeous everything was. It feels like home in my distant memories.”

“Then let’s do it. Lets, go move to Rome. You aren’t happy here Emily, I know you say you are, but you do this job for our team, not the position now. I miss when you laughed,” both of them sobered up by now, knowing that it has taken a turn for the more serious.

“No, no we can’t. I, I can’t keep leaving this team and our friends. And, people need us. You love this job Tara I can’t take that away from you, not for me.”

“They’d understand Emily, they all love you so much. Yeah, I love this job, I won’t lie. But, I love you more, and I’m not happy if you aren’t. So let’s do it. Let’s fucking run away to Rome together and be happy .” The two sit in silence for a minute, the unanswered question still hanging in the air.

“Okay. Let’s do it. Maybe I’ll fulfill my long-lost dream to have a nice, big garden.”

The team took it surprisingly well, they’d all noticed a change in Emily in the months following Scratch and knew that Tara had Emily’s best interest at heart. Of course, they were sad to lose two of the best members of their team, but Emily was family, and family looks out for each other.

“I’m going to miss you my favorite dynamic duo and your guys’ jokes. Ugh, it’s going to be so quiet without you two lovely ladies,” her eyes are welling with unshed tears as she says goodbye to more of her family, “Send me things from Rome or I will install a virus in your phones,” they both laughed at Penelope’s antics and promised her that they’d send as much stuff as they could. The last two weeks of their stay in the United States were filled with mixed emotions. They were excited to start the next chapter of their lives together. Away from all the serial killers and monstrous people out there. They could finally live with a fraction of the naivety that most people carry. On the other hand, Tara only speaks minimal Italian, and now they’re going to be living in a brand-new country, surrounded by strangers. A fresh start, but one filled with anxiety.

“Okay 4:30 is way too early for a flight,” Emily grumbled as they made their way to the airport. The pair had woken up at three, knowing that Tara can’t sleep on planes they tried to go to bed early and were now making their way to the airport in the dead of morning.

“Wait, babe, look! It’s a full moon,” they pulled over just for a moment and got out of the car to sit on the hood. The silence between the two is peaceful, the wind was the only whisper in the air. Moonlight shone on Tara’s face and Emily knew that there was no sight in the world as beautiful as this. With the moon reflected in her eyes and a small simple ghosting on her lips. She’s home.

Security was a breeze, they are former FBI agents after all, and they made their way to their gate. Airports always have a certain air to them, a place where time seizes to exist yet completely runs the place. Their gate was quiet, filled with the tired murmuring of people excited to travel.

“Tara, honey, wake up we’re boarding.”

It was odd for the two of them to be flying commercial after all those years on private jets. It was nice to feel normal though, to fade in the background instead of being other . Human desire is both to be noticed and forgotten all at once.

Italy’s airport is very similar to the DC airport, it would seem like they never left. Outside was a whole different story, bustling crowds and hot air hits them as soon as they step outside the building. They had picked out a quaint apartment building a week prior. Yellow walls with a terrace looking out to an alley. The couple's belongings had been shipped and were waiting to be unpacked. Not right then though. Now, it was time to explore.

Hand in hand they walked leisurely down the narrow alley way of the small Italian town they are now calling their home. Vines and every other type of plant that could grow did. Hanging off banisters, and climbing up orange brick walls. The sunlight was close to blinding, and it hit Emily just right. The golden rays hitting her face and illuminating the ghost of the smile now appearing on Emily’s face. That smile told Tara all she needed to know about their decision. Emily catches her staring, “What are you looking at,” humor evident in her voice.

“You, I’m looking at you miss Emily Prentiss. You’re smiling again,” her words come out softer than she intended, but they convey her point.

Happy couples seem to fill the streets, old and new, young and old. The town may be old, but it was filled with a life that they had been lacking. They pass a quaint little bakery. Bread, cupcakes, and assorted pastries fill the windows. There're bookshelves on all the walls filled to the brim with different books. The walls are light blue and there are flowers everywhere. It looks like something from the movies.

“Un Piccolo Angolo di Paradiso,” Emily reads the name of the building in front of them, they’ve since stopped to admire the view in front of them. It reminds the two of them how Emily asked Tara out. With a cupcake and book who had ‘I know there’s plenty of sugar in that cupcake but it’d be even sweeter if you went out with me. Let me take you to dinner Tara? ’ written on the inside.

“As much as I love hearing you speak Italian, what does that mean? Something heaven?”

“Little Slice of Heaven.” It’s truly a perfect name for the place.

“Okay, now we have to go in,” they’re both smiling now. They push open the glass doors, greeted by the high-pitched ringing of a bell and the smell of freshly baked bread.

The woman at the counter finishes the greeting, “Benvenuti nel piccolo angolo di paradiso, cosa posso offrirvi, adorabili signore?” they blush at the compliment and Emily orders them both cupcakes and coffee. Tara busies herself with admiring the books. Some of them have the most beautiful covers she’s seen. She knows not to judge a book by its cover but sometimes the most beautiful things are just as gorgeous on the inside as out. Just like Emily. She buys a book, and they take their drink and desserts to go. They make their way to a waterfront and sit down on the stairs, side by side.

“Rome is just as beautiful as I remembered. I missed it. It really does feel like home, although, anywhere I’m with you is home,” at the end of her sentence, she turns to face Tara, a look of pure love shown clearly on her face. And for that, Tara just has to kiss her.

The next day they unpack their boxes of belongings into their apartment to help rid the homesickness. Paintings go up on the walls and furniture is placed with the best view in mind. After a couple of hours they’re done, their apartment a bit more homey than before. They crack open a bottle of wine, put on an album, and sit out on the terrace. They watch the sun set over the water, the sounds of big band music filter in as the soundtrack for their night. The sky painted yellow, orange, and pink in the way only nature can create. If nature were an artist they’d be in every museum and sold to the wealthy. Instead, they are for the masses, the beauty of nature is for all to enjoy, free of cost, for those who wish to escape and fly into the night sky.

“You know what I’ve always wanted to do?” Tara leans forward on the balcony, not taking her eyes off the view in front of her, even as the colors begin to fade the sky darkens.

“No, tell me, what?”

“I always wanted to open my own bakery. I know it’s stupid, me a baker. But, I don’t know making things, it feels so uncomplicated. Just me and the dough.”

“In this alternate universe, I’d be a gardener. You and your dough and me and my flowers against the world Tara. Wait a second. I think you and I are onto something my dear,” Emily’s joined Tara at the balcony, the two of them leaning against the railing.

“Actually? You’re serious? You want to do this.?”

“Yeah! Why not? We’ve got enough money in the bank for us to last a bit, you can work at Un Piccolo Angolo di Paradiso,” the Italian rolls of her tongue in a way that drives Tara nuts, “I’ll find a gardening place to work at. We’re in fucking Italy let’s make our dreams come true.”

“Okay. Let’s do it.”

Alessia, the owner of the bakery, is pleased to have another employee. Especially one that is actually interested and isn’t in high school. Tara learns the basics of bread and pastry making. She has some skill, she used to bake with her mother before she died, it had been awhile since she had been able to bake without bumming herself out. Now it’s a nice memory of her. Gone but not forgotten, as is the saying. Emily comes in every lunch break for whatever Tara’s whipped up and to get her caffeine fix. One of the things that she still keeps from her law enforcement days.

They aren’t perfect. A move across the country isn’t going to cure PTSD, she has good days, bad days, and worse days, but now they have the time to deal with it. There was never anytime to process things at the FBI. It was always, distract yourself and throw yourself into solving cases. Now they can slow dance in the kitchen and stay up until three am telling stories from college. They fill their days with the happiness that was once stolen from them and bathe in it like perfume.

True to their word, they send Penelope all sorts of things, books from the café, pressed flowers, trinkets from the small shops to adorn her desk. In return, she sends them pictures of Sergio.

“I miss Sergio, his little paws, and his ability to climb on top of anything.”

Emily finds a job at a nearby garden that sells flower arrangements and herbs to local restaurants. It’s convenient, more than they would have thought. Emily now gets to stop into the bakery on occasion to deliver herbs and has plenty of flowers to give her lover. She also sends a few bouquets back to DC. Hoping that the flowers can brighten up the office in a way that fluorescent lights never can.

On one of their late afternoon walks, they hear a rustling by a trash can.

“What’s that noise?”

“I don’t know, let’s go look, it almost sounds like an animal. Could be a mouse,” Emily suggests, absently reaching to where her gun used to rest on her hip. They open the bag to find three small kittens. Seemly abandoned in a corner.

“Oh god, they’re so cute. We have to keep them.” It’s not a question, Tara knows that Emily is thinking the same thing, their minds connected in the way people who love each other’s minds always are. They look up the nearest veterinarian to make sure that their new pets are okay to take home and healthy.

The vet is sterile and a stark reminder of all the hospitals they’ve spent time in. Tara squeezes her girlfriend’s hand to remind her that they are both safe .

“They look fairly health, a bit malnourished but that is to be expected in these circumstances,” the vet is an elderly man with a mustache as thick as his accent,

“I’ve give them the shots they need, for now, come back in few months and let me take another look. Ciao.”

The kittens are fast asleep by the time they make it home. They gently scoop the kittens out of the bag and into their arms and the couch.

“Okay, what are we naming these angels?” Emily’s voice is pitched up as she talks to the kitten in her arms.

“Well, I’ve always been a classics enthusiast, what if we name them Artemis and Apollo?”

“That’s adorable. Little tiny archery kitties, yes, isn’t that right!” she coos, “And I think I’ll name this one Carter.”

“I love it, and you. Come on, sit with me, you look tired,” Tara grabs Emily’s hand and pulls her onto the couch. They fall over a bit and Emily yelps in surprise. They put the old music back on, a sense of peaceful needs for their new lives. The two sit on the couch, Emily’s head in her girlfriend’s lap, a hand playing with her hair. Apollo climbs on Emily’s feet and lays down to rest.

“I love you, Tara,” she doesn’t respond, just lays a gentle kiss to the back of her head.

The world is big and scary but the two of them feel safe in each other's arms.

taglist- @royalpenelope @criminalmindsvibez @haleymalaffey @scandinavian-punk @abitcriminalminds @hellskitchensmurdock @criminalmindzz2 @rosesonmyheart @ssaemxlyprentxss @reidrights if you’d like to be added to my taglist, the survey is here

[phoenixstartedthefire]

My thoughts on the cursed child part 2: things I didn't like

I made a post before about my opinions on the cursed child. I recommend you go read that one if you haven't yet before you read this one. My other post was mostly about my positive opinions and thoughts on the addition to the harry potter universe. This one is going to be more focused on my problems with the play. Again, this won't make such sense if you haven't read it.

I cannot stress how much I hate the fact that Harry named his child after Dumbledore and Snape. I know there is something to be said of some fondness he may feel for Dumbledore. He was kind to Harry at times and was someone Harry really looked up to. I can understand why he named his child after Dumbledore. But I don't think it's right. Dumbledore left Harry in an abusive household for his entire childhood, even when McGonagall questioned his judgement, insisted on tiptoeing around the truth and being vague on purpose when all Harry wanted was answers, ignored Harry when he needed him most(ootp), and raised a child to die without him knowing. And even though what Dumbledore put Harry through was terrible, I can understand that Harry might feel a certain fondness for him. But Snape. I cannot even begin to explain how much I hate him. I may make another post about it detailing exactly why but long story short, snape literally abused harry to the point where even less than a year into knowing him, Harry was convinced that his own teacher was trying to kill him. And then, "ur mom got mad at me cus I called her a slur twenty years ago and im still sad" and he's a saint? Fuck Snape.

I didn't like the 'Scorpius might be Voldemort's son' plotline. I don't think it made any sense. And I think it's stupid that everyone just believes this stupid rumor with no evidence at all. Even Harry believed it at one point. If they thought all the time turners were destroyed, how did they think Astoria traveled back in time to get knocked up by Voldemort? Why would Voldemort agree to that? How do they explain Scorpius looking like his father? It's ridiculous and shouldn't have been included. If they wanted to keep the plotline that Scorpius was secluded and ostracized by most of his classmates, they should have just gone with the 'his dad was a death eater' route. It makes a lot more sense than some stupid rumor that in no way could be true.

I didn't like the whole "there's a dark cloud around ur son" plot. Harry has been known to repeatedly discredit divination in the books. So why does he believe the centaur so wholeheartedly without hesitation? I know that he has respect for the centaurs because they saved his life and they are oppressed for being 'half-breeds' which is not right at all. But I still think its out of character for Harry to just believe in some vision the centaur had without any question. And it shouldn't take Draco Malfoy to tell him that after he already made both of their sons lives hell.

Speaking of Harry's character, I don't think it was in character for him to split up Albus and Scorpius like that. He, out of all people, should know how important friends are at Hogwarts. He even says to Albus earlier in the play that friends are important and he didn't know what he would've done without Ron and Hermione. So why would he willingly split his son and his only friend up just because Scorpius might be evil? And honestly, if he ever even made the effort to meet Scorpius, he would know that Scorpius 'excuse me, Mr. Muggle' and 'my geekness is a-quivering' Malfoy is the least likely person ever to be evil. I suppose it isn't too unlike him to hate Scorpius at first just because he's Malfoy's son. But if he can forgive Snape for bullying him for years, he should be able to look past his rivalry with Draco for the sake of his son's safety and happiness. I mean, Harry would be downright murderous if someone tried to split up him and Ron for no good reason at Hogwarts. So why does he think it's okay for him to split up Scorpius and Albus?

Also the way he treated McGonagall was completely out of line and out of character. In the books, he (almost) always treated McGonagall with complete respect and admired her, even if he didn't quite agree with her at times. So for him to storm into her office and demand anything of her is completely out of character and just downright shitty.

Also, and I know this has been said before but the whole Cedric Diggory being a death eater thing? So stupid. Cedric is quite possibly the best person in the series. He is always nice to everyone and always makes sure things are fair. You're telling me that because of getting embarrassed when he was 17 he's gonna turn into a wizard nazi? It doesn't make any sense. I mean. So many people loved him and were absolutely destroyed when he died. Because of how much of a genuinely nice and loving person he was. Amos Diggory, over 20 years later still is trying to find ways to bring his son back. Cedric wanted a rematch in poa after the dementors made harry faint in quidditch! Because it wasn't fair! That boy deserved better.

I hate the Delphi plot. It just kind of invalidates Voldemort's whole character. The whole point of his character and why he was so evil was because he was incapable of love. The only reason he tolerates certain people is because he has a use for them. It's incredibly stupid that Voldemort would ever feel enough for Bellatrix to do...that with her. I know that one doesn't need to love someone to have sex but I don't see Voldemort ever doing that. Not only because i dont want to picture it but also because he would find the whole concept of it too human. He would never trust anyone enough to have a child with them. The only way I could ever see him having a child is maybe to clone himself? Or find some other self dependent way to have a child. And he wouldn't have a child. So that's stupid.

I didn't like the relationship they try to push between Rose and Scorpius. Rose makes it pretty clear from their first meeting that she doesn't like Scorpius and her opinion doesn't seem to change throughout the play. Rose to me just seemed like 'I know that Albus and Scorpius have chemistry throughout the entire play and would make sense to be together but...no homo'. It's one of those 'won't take no for an answer' kind of relationships that are super harmful. If a girl says no, respect it and move on. I thought the little awkward attempts at flirting with her were cute but the overall concept of Rose and Scorpius ending up together doesn't sit right with me. Especially with the amount of chemistry that he has with Albus. It doesn't make sense for him to be with Rose.

Also. I hate that Ron and Hermione don't end up together in the alternate timelines. They obviously still love each other. It wouldn't make sense for Ron to end up marrying Padma after spending one night with her at the yule ball. While the yule ball was a big factor in ron and Hermione figuring out their feelings for each other, it definitely wasn't the only moment that mattered. Just because Hermione and Ron went to the ball together doesn't mean they wouldn't end up married. Wouldn't the house elf situation in DH have still happened in the timeline where Hermione is the teacher? I just don't get it. Is there something I'm missing here?

Hey, wtf was with the whole trolley witch thing? I hated it.

That's most of my problems with the cursed child. I overall enjoyed it but there were a lot of flaws and plot holes and things that just didn't make sense. To me the whole play was just a cash grab for jkr. She wanted to keep profiting on the franchise. She did the same with the fantastic beast series. She didn't do it for her passion for the series. She did it to stay relevant and make money. She sucks. It’s nice for if you want the feels and just need something to read but not if you want to take a serious look at something. Don’t go into it with high expectations.

Let me know if there’s anything else you’d like to hear my opinions on! I was thinking about making a post about Draco Malfoy and my thoughts on his character since he’s pretty controversial in the fandom. Or maybe some popular\unpopular ships?

[idnek83]

Aid - Chapter 12/13

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Soda Kazuichi/Tanaka Gundham

Tags: Alternate Universe - Island Mode, No Game Spoilers, Masturbation,  Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Semi-Public Sex, Grinding, Wet Dreams, Anal Fingering,  Friends With Benefits,  Getting Together, Internalized Homophobia, Anal Sex

Summary: Everyone is hot and half naked because of their beach vacation. Soda is horny and tries to do something about it. Gundham tries to help and does. It all gets a little out of hand.

Chapter: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13

Read on Ao3

This Chapter: Soda gets some advice from an unexpected source: Soda tries to run from his problems, and realizes that's why he has so many.

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Soda was sure to stay far away from the ranch, heading in the opposite direction as he left the hotel area. Seeing Gundham just then would be unbearable, he knew he wouldn’t be able to handle the anger on Gundham’s face, knew the hurt would be even worse.

He just needed to stay away for now.

It all could have been so easy if he hadn’t been so god damned stupid. There must have been signs that Gundham was into him, right? Something anyone else would have caught onto…

Like… maybe those names Gundham always called him. What was a consort anyways? He knew it had something to do with kings, so like… a king’s friend? Or was it more like and advisor or something? He wasn’t sure, he’d have to look it up later.

He didn’t even know where to start with paramour, he could vaguely recall a band with a similar name, but that was about it.

But it wasn’t always just ‘consort’ or ‘paramour’, Gundham would sometimes use other words too.

‘Dark’ had been the first one, back when Gundham had referred to him as ‘companion’ more often then not, then at some point it had become ‘dear’. Then ‘sweet’ and ‘dearest’ had worked their way in, along with that word, ‘consort’, that felt like it meant so much more than friend…

But none of that was explicitly romantic, right? Besides ‘dark’ and ‘consort’, Soda was pretty sure he’d called Hajime all of those things before…

Then ‘paramour’… Gundham had first called him that after the night on the beach. It always felt a little… flirtier than ‘consort’, but most of that was probably just cus Soda didn’t know what it meant, right? Or maybe it was something about the way Gundham said it? He remembered Gundham calling him that as he begged him to fuck him the previous night…

Soda’s face colored. Not the time for those kinds of thoughts.

That hadn’t been the only thing Gundham had called him that night though, another new word had entered his speech: ‘beloved’.

Soda blushed even harder.

Okay, so it was pretty hard to interpret that as anything other than romantic.

But Soda had been way too turned on to even notice it…

So maybe there hadn’t really been signs that Gundham was into him? At least not before he had started calling him ‘beloved’ last night. But then there was…

The way Gundham had always seemed so focused on him while they were touching each other, the way he was gentle, paid attention to whether Soda was feeling good, made sure to make him feel cherished with every touch.

Soda wished he could say he did the same for Gundham…

The way Gundham had held him when he was upset, never made him feel bad for crying, and always made sure he knew he was there to talk, while never making him feel like he had to talk if he didn’t want to.

It was so easy for Gundham to make him feel safe…

Yeah. The signs had definitely been there.

He was just the worlds biggest idiot.

He was crying again, out in public now like a loser. He just sat where he was on the beach and hid his face in his arms.

He hoped no one saw him.

“Soda?”

Fuck everything.

At first he didn’t want to acknowledge her, thought that maybe she’d just go away if he didn’t.

But Gundham wanted them to get along better, so…

“Hi miss Sonia.” He didn’t lift his head, he didn’t want her to see him crying.

There was a moment where nothing happened and Soda almost thought she had left, but then he heard the rustle of fabric and saw the light shift as she sat next to him.

He heard her exhale slowly.

“Is something… no. Something is upsetting you. Would you like to speak with me about it?”

He lifted his head to look at her then. What was going on? Why was Sonia even talking to him, not to mention asking if he wanted to talk about his problems.

“I… what’re you doing Sonia?” She had raised her hand as if to pat Soda on the back.

Sonia blushed a little, but her face was determined.

“I am comforting a classmate.” She patted his back a few times, a little too forcefully to really be comforting, then quickly withdrew her hand.

Soda was still confused.

“But, why? I mean… it’s me?”

Sonia looked away from him.

“It was brought to my attention that I do not treat you well.”

Right, Gundham had said he talked to her.

“I decided I will try to improve the way that I treat you. And when I saw you crying I-“

Shit, she had seen him crying. The thought made him want to cry more, but what really made the tears begin to well up again was the fact that she was being nice because of Gundham.

Here was Sonia, trying to comfort him, and it was all because Gundham had asked her to be kinder to him. And how had he repaid Gundham for doing that?

By calling him a sex thing.

He was crying again.

“Shit, s-sorry. I shouldn’t be crying-” Soda tried to wipe away his tears.

“No! It is okay! Please feel free to-” Sonia looked like she was panicking.

“And I s-shouldn’t have treated you so-” The tears just kept coming.

“It was cruel of my to ignore you-” Sonia was tearing up too.

“I really didn’t mean to-” He felt even worse for making her cry.

“It was I who-” She stopped herself to breathe, and Soda unconsciously did the same.

They looked at each other, both red in the face and teary eyed, and Soda felt something shift.

“I’m sorry.” They both spoke at the same time, and their faces mirrored each others shock.

Sonia smiled a little, and Soda thought she might be suppressing a laugh. He smiled back.

“I… would very much like if we could restart our relationship. Would that be ‘cool’ with you?”

“More than cool.”

Sonia held out her hand and Soda shook it.

“Then it has been made official. From now on we will be fond friends.” They let go of each other’s hands and sat in silence for a moment, looking out at the ocean.

Soda knew that wasn’t the end of it. One day they were going to have to sit down and have a real conversation about it, one where Soda could properly apologize for the way he treated Sonia.

“You do not treat each other fairly.”

Right. Each other.

Maybe Sonia would apologize to him too then. He still wasn’t sure how he felt about that. But he was happy that it was out in the open now at least, happy that Sonia knew that he knew he had been treating her badly, knew that he wanted to change that.

And he was happy that now they might be able to become real friends.

He smiled to himself at the word: friends. Not too long ago he would have seen this as another opportunity to try to get with Sonia, but the thought hadn’t crossed his mind. He must have grown some.

And it probably helped that he was hopelessly into Gundham.

Even if he had fucked that up.

He looked at Sonia, who was smiling softly at the sea. Maybe apologies weren’t as hard as he thought.

“Sonia?”

“Yes?” She turned and smiled at him, but he could see a bit of hesitation in her eyes. Yeah, they definitely needed to have another conversation later.

“Have you… seen Gundham today?” There was part of him that wanted her to say no.

“Ah, yes. I saw him when he came to pick up his breakfast this morning.” Something made her frown. “He looked very tired and very upset... Was it you who was the cause of that?” She sort of looked like she was getting ready to yell at him.

“… Probably.” He couldn’t tell her the whole truth but- “We, um, had a fight.”

She deflated a little.

“Oh. You… you did not fight about me, did you?”

“Nah.” He laughed a little, awkwardly. “Well, I guess you were part of it? But don’t worry, it was mostly just me being stupid…”

Sonia looked like she was thinking.

“I visited the farm today, after breakfast.” Jealousy flickered through Soda’s brain, and he told it to fuck off. “Gundham was there, talking to the Four Dark Devas of Destruction. He… he sounded sad, and when I greeted him, he had none of his usual enthusiasm.” She swept some hair from her face. “Whatever it is you fought about, it seems to have upset him greatly…”

Yeah, no surprises there.

“I know. Its my fault.”

“Then why have you not apologized?” Sonia was once again filled with her usual intensity.

“W-what?” He was taken aback by the sudden shift in mood. Sonia was staring at him intently.

“You believe it is your fault he is upset?”

“Y-yeah.”

“And you know what it is you have done wrong?”

“Yeah...”

“Then apologize, you bastard.”

It always took Soda by surprise when Sonia swore, but her blunt logic surprised him even more.

It was his fault and he knew what he did wrong, so he should just apologize? Well, yeah, but it wasn’t that easy…

“But he doesn’t want to talk to me right now…”

“Of course he does not want to talk to you!” Ouch. “He does not want to talk because you have not apologized yet!” She was up on her knees now, leaning towards him with a determined look in her eyes.

“W-well, yeah, but he, um, said he wanted some time to think?” He had said that, why was it a question now? Soda was falling apart under Sonia’s intensity.

“If you fought this morning then he has had plenty of time already. You should apologize now, and if he decides he would like more time to think, then at least he will know that you are sorry!”

“He already knows I’m sorry…”

“Does he?”

Did he?

Shit.

He didn’t.

Soda had never actually said sorry after the whole ‘just a sex thing’ thing. He had tried, but Gundham had been too upset and made him leave before he could.

Fuck.

Gundham was currently under the impression that Soda actually had though of him as just a sex thing, that Soda really didn’t want anything else out of their relationship.

Fuck shit fuck.

Sonia was right, he needed to apologize and make it clear to Gundham that that wasn’t true, that he really hadn’t meant to hurt him. After all, if Gundham did all his thinking without actually knowing the truth, then he wouldn’t be able to come to a real conclusion, right?

He stood up too quickly, it startled Sonia a little.

“Sorry Sonia.” He extended a hand to help her up. “But you’re right. I… I need to go apologize. Right now!” Sonia took his hand and stood. He noted the surprise in her face when he let go, as well as the smile that followed it.

“Thank you.” Soda knew it was both for helping her up, and for not being a creep about holding her hand. Good, they were making progress. Now hopefully things would go that smoothly with Gundham.

He waved goodbye and jogged off in the direction of the ranch.

He needed to talk to Gundham. Now.

Next Chapter

[the-sunshine-dims]

the one time janus didn't mind his body turning him into a snake

i’m not the most proud of the second halves timing but its fine,

i’m pretty sure this is from a prompt by @sanderssides-prompts but i cant find it so i have no clue

words: 1495

contents and warnings: fluff, hurt/comfort, snakes, turning into a snake, cold, hopeful ending, panicking, borrowing without permission (for a good reason), cursing, minor injury,

ao3 link

___

Janus quickly walked down the hallway, Virgil's hoodie and Patton’s cardigan in hand, he internally promised them he'd return them later. But currently the reason of having them in the first place is his priority, he bites back a wad of guilt, but he’s really cold, he doesn’t wanna transform into a snake, it’s always extremely tiring being that vulnerable and honestly it was kind of embarrassing, at least it’s early in the morning, barely six am, so at least he has time before he has to give it back.

Suddenly he feels his body getting smaller and oh no not yet

He thought he had time before his body decided to take his temperature into its own hands.

He tried to take a shaky breath but by the time he managed to it came out into a soft hiss.

Suddenly his senses were dulling and in the warm pile of soft garments he couldn’t help but drift off, he didn't even realize he hadn’t gotten close to his room.

——

Virgil searches restlessly for his hoodie, he swore he put it on the chair in his room, he was almost certain of it, and he was getting stressed the longer he looked, he looked everywhere and There was no way it could even be in his room.

But how could it just vanish?

after a couple long suffering minutes he sighed before deciding to summon Patton, he wished he didn’t have to bother him but he knew If he didn’t appear at all throughout the day do to searching for The hoodie he would end up being worried, and hey at least it wasn’t necessarily early.

“Patton” he exhaled the words and Patton shot up practically instantly,

One thing Virgil noticed instantly was the clear lack of a cardigan

Patton still smiled though. “hey kiddo what do you need?”

“My hoodie, it’s just.. gone, do you know where it is?” 

Patton hummed before shaking his head “I don’t, sorry kiddo,” after a moment he brightened “maybe the one who took your hoodie was The one who took my cardigan!” He paused and pointed to his shoulders to indicate what he meant in case Virgil hadn't noticed. “which as you see is gone.” 

Virgil can’t help but chuckle softly and nod, after a moment though he paused “will we have to go talk to the others?”

Patton tilts his head like a confused puppy “yes?”

Virgil hunches in on himself, it was one thing to have Patton see him without the hoodie, it was a whole Nother thing for the others to see him without his safety blanket..

Suddenly Patton’s eyes fill with understanding and soft sympathy.

“If you want I can ask them for you? But I think you would want it sooner, so maybe, you could wear another hoodie?” He asked softly before hastily added “just until we find your hoodie! I know your hoodie’s special to you after all!”

Virgil exhaled “okay”

“Okay?”

Virgil nodded “okay. I’ll just wear another hoodie until we find it, it’ll be fine.”

Patton gives him a sympathetic smile before Virgil went into his closet to find a hoodie,

Unfortunately for him he could only find a pastel purple hoodie he didn’t know he had, so he huffed before putting it on, and it may not have been his hoodie but the weight on his shoulders was familiar and grounding.

So he took a breath before uttering “let’s go”

.

They barely made it down the hallway before they saw the lump.

Their clothes!

They got all excited and were about to pick it up before they saw the small vibrant yellow snake sleeping in the clothes.

Virgil exhaled, he wasn’t even mad, he couldn't even be mad, he knew Janus’s body heat was naturally really cold and because he was half snake he needed more heat then he almost ever got, and he also knew the subconscious was already oddly cold, and he knew he hated to transform into his snake form, so naturally he tried anything to not transform.

So he gently picked the snake up and put them in his hood, close to his neck so the heat would radiate to Janus.

He then picked the articles of clothing off the floor and handed Patton’s cardigan to him

Patton took a moment before just pointing to Janus utterly baffled “where did the snake come from?”

Virgil sighed “Janus,” he said as if that was the simplest of answers and Patton was clearly confused so he continued “he gets cold and when he gets to cold he turns into a snake, I’m guessing Remus was gone if he resorted to his last method of warming up,”

Patton then squealed “he can turn into a snake!” He said excitedly.

Virgil quickly shushed him, pointing to the still sleeping form, Patton pouted but just continued more quietly

Virgil exhaled “Patton, your room is warmer right?”

Patton grinned and nodded.

___

Two hours had passed, Janus had awoken a couple times but his mind was still in snake mode so he simply slithered over to Patton or Virgil to wrap himself around their arms or any other warm appendages he found.

Patton was absolutely delighted, and he was happy he wasn’t the only one who turned into an animal.

The two had been working in silence when Janus turned back into his human form, he was still asleep on Patton, his head resting on Patton’s lap.

And Patton froze, not knowing what to do, he didn’t want to wake him up but he had to get stuff, 

Virgil huffed softly and just grabbed a blanket and plopped it onto Janus.

Patton gave a nervous smile to Virgil, and Virgil just smiled and sat next to him “where’d all that excitement go?” He asked jokingly before giving a small chuckle.

Patton pouted before whisper-panic-yelling “Virgil, what if I wake him up or he panics because he’s in here!” 

“Patt, it’s okay, like there's a big chance he’ll still be tired so he won’t have the energy to panic, also we’ll both have to be nicer to him, that way he won’t be weirded out that the one time we’re nice to him was the time he unsuccessfully stole our clothes.”

Patton sighs and starts to play with Janus’a hair “I guess so, I still hope he doesn’t get all panicky, I know i probably would..” 

Virgil smiled softly “your okay Patton, nothing will go incredibly wrong,”

“Okay..” he sighed once again and went back to carding his fingers through janus’s hair.

“Don’t worry Patton, that’s my job.”

Patton laughed “will do”

Unfortunately the laughing ended up joggling Janus and he shifted and grumbled 

Virgil and Patton froze, they may have just been comforted but now they are faced with not knowing what would actually happen.

Janus groggily looked up, he blinked a couple times before just curling back up,

And then barely a minute later he realized who it was and remembered that he had stolen (and hadn’t returned) their clothes, he flung himself away, ending up hitting his back on Patton’s bed.

Patton let out a concerned gasp, he didn’t want Janus to get hurt or bruised!

Janus got lost in his head in panic and Patton slowly and carefully scooted on his knees closer, holding his hands up in a placating gesture.

“Janus, are you okay?” Patton asked softly

“have- have I stepped into an alternate universe?” He asked incredulously, why did he wake up in Patton’s lap and why didn’t he hear yelling? He stole their stuff! Sure it was for a good reason and he was planning to return them..

“No, sweetheart your not-“

“Ooh Patton said sweetheart, bringing out the big guns”

Patton pouted at Virgil and Virgil chuckled

“Anyway, sweetheart, no you’re not, you were in your snake form- which Virgil explained to me, and you shouldn’t have to steal clothes for a little bit just to stay warm, so we’re gonna try and be as nice as we can to you so that if nothing else, as a last resort you can come to us for cuddles instead of having to take stuff.”

Janus stared at him, and looked at Virgil, silently asking a question, Virgil nodded, and Janus took a breath, “you sure?”

Patton nodded then paused, “you and Roman should apologize to each other, that way their won’t be any bad blood, but yes I’m sure, you were out for like four hours, I had time to think this through,”

“Okay.. that’s fair, and-“ he took a breath -“okay. But if I do end up spending more time with you guys Remus is gonna end up coming along,”

“Fuck yeah! I need to show him how much I’ve bested him at dance dance revolution!” virgil piped up almost gleefully.

“Language..?”

Janus couldn’t help but laugh. Even if he was still really confused about what happened, maybe it would all turn out okay?

[thewebcomicsreview]

It’s Homestuck’s birthday, which means another Homestuck 2 update.

Man, trying to have something exciting for Homestuck fans happen on 4/13 has been really slick marketing, because it gets everyone excited and you see an increase in fanart. I couldn’t tell you what, say, Penny Arcade or Gunnerkrigg Court’s anniversaries were, but every Homestuck fan knows the importance of 413 because it’s built into the story itself.

Anyway, here’s Janey, and here’s Jake wearing a shirt that you can either buy now or will be able to buy soon. Marketing.

JANE: Assassinations, open warfare, so-called "revolution," and where has everyone gone? JANE: They've ABANDONED me. They've taken our precious son. And now...

That’s not really true, Jane. Your friends haven’t abandoned you while people try to kill you! Your friends are also actively trying to kill you! 

It’s a decent joke, but how the hell are Steven King novels even a thing on this planet? Maybe Rose had some.

DIRK: I'm slurping this shit up like it's a piping hot bowl of udon. DIRK: Itadakimasu.

Homestuck 2′s Dirk is dramatically more of a filthy fucking weeb than Dirk was in the original Homestuck, and that’s a high fucking bar.

JANE: Two can play at the hostage game. That loathsome daughter of theirs should fit the bill nicely. JANE: Then those naughty rebels will cease this unruly tantrum, and do what they are told.

This is another instance of Homestuck 2 sanding down the whole “civil war” thing that I didn’t even think about until they called attention to it. Vrissy is not only a member of the rebellion, her adoptive parents are commanders who the God-Empress of Mankind personally hates, and she just kind of casually went to human high school with her only concern being the dead clown and apparently she is only now in any danger.

Oh, this is cool! A wide panel with two separate dialogs underneath! I had to admit I was kind of hoping for an anniversary [S], but I’m happy with a twist on the standard format. It looks nicer than the x2 updates from Homestuck 1, too.

VRISKA: 8ecause there's no way I'm saying Harry Anderson every time. That's like... 8 whole letters too long. VRISKA: From now on your name is just Harry. HARRY: o... k?

Hm. First Vriska Classic renames the new Vriska to Vrissy, and now Harry Anderson has been demoted to Harry. I sense a pattern, and suspect “Tavros Crocker” will not be called such much longer. 

Also, stealing people’s names like that seems very Thief of Light-y, but let’s not get into that just now, even if the last update hinted at a connection between Harry and Heart, which is all about identity. I’m doing this liveblog during my lunch break no time for classpect shit.

VRISKA: If I had to 8et, I'd say you're the thing that pup8ed after a 8ar8aric act of human sexual intercourse 8etween John and some Lalonde or other. HARRY: ok. HARRY: ew.

Hm. Vriska knows Harry’s last name is Egbert, but it’s interesting that she assumes his mom is a Lalonde and not one of the literal planet full of human women, but no one in Homestuck seems to care about the NPC humans so it’s a safe bet. Also I don’t like how hard we’re pushing the line that Harry came out of a person’s vagina and not some slime. I’m suspish.

VRISKA: There WERE no humans on Alternia, okay? There were no humans, and no human "musicals", in my entire UNIVERSE. HARRY: it sounds like a horrible place. ): VRISKA: Yeah, it 8lew so un8elieva8ly hard.

Heh.

But now he's not so sure. Ever since hearing that one of his dad's old friends had turned up, that border between past and present has felt fainter by the minute. And as they talk, he begins to think that Vriska seems so much... fresher. More real. An actual, authentic, bona fide god from another universe. Harry can’t imagine his dad even talking to someone like her, let alone punching her in the face.

One of those file-it-away-for-later moments, but Harry is able to sense that the canon Vriska is “more real” than his dad. 

HARRY: right now i'm in my mom's house with my girlfriend, her boyfriend, and another god damn version of my girlfriend, and all of us are probably now on the run from the fucking GOVERNMENT!!!!

Though he also seems to think Vriska Serket and Vrissy Maryam-Lalonde are alternate versions of each other, which is actually not true, both literally and personalityways.

Harry is not even able to mention the thing he was about to mention, because at this exact moment his phone starts ringing.

BECAUSE JELLICLES CAN AND JEEEEEEELLICLES DO JELLICLES DO AND JELLICLES CAN JELLICLES CAN AND JEEEEEELLICLES

HARRY: oh fuck.

I think Harry Egbert has the worst taste of anyone in his family and that’s a high fucking bar

VRISSY: It's Something about the W8y she Looks at him. VRISSY: The Rest of us too. VRISSY: Like we're not even Real. TAVROS: Yes,, this is good, VRISSY: Ever since she showed up, it's 8een o8vious that Nothing Here M8tters to her.

Another, much more obvious reference to the realness attribute of Candyland. 

VRISSY: I'm not worried a8out Harry Fucking 8nderson right now! VRISSY: Hell, I'm so Unconcerned that I think I'm going to start just calling him Harry from now on! It'll Save Everyone a lot of Valua8le Time! VRISSY: Listen Tavros, Vriska will get 8ored of Harry in a Heart8eat! VRISSY: That's the whole point!!!!!!!! VRISSY: She shouldn't 8e w8sting her Time on someone like Him! VRISSY: SHE SHOULD BE T8LKING T8 ME!!!!!!!!

That both Vriskas decide separately to demote Harry Anderson to Harry is a funny gag. Also, between this and the start of the conversation where Vrissy was obsessed with how she appeared on social media, someone needs to be the most important person in the room at all times, which is a trait both Vriska’s have in common with each other, and also in a way with Aranea, so there’s perhaps a classpect aspect to this but we don’t have time for that! 

JOHN: HELLO SON! JOHN: I AM JOHN: SO JOHN: VERY JOHN: PROUD OF YOU!!!!!!!!

There it is

JOHN: heh. two vriskas is NOTHING. JOHN: when i was your age i lost count of all the vriskas i had to keep track of. JOHN: it was probably some preposterous number.

I’m pretty sure John never encountered any alternative-timeline Vriskas in Homestuck.

Hey, it’s Rose and Kanaya!

Individually, they each represent immeasurable gains for the rebel faction. The rebellion's stratagems have never had a fiercer bite; their uniforms have never looked so fucking sharp.  But it is together, united, that their true strength is made apparent. Their bond, a union of love between troll and human, is not only a foundation for the rebel cause, but an integral symbol of its purpose.    

D’aw

ROSE: I don't understand what's going on any more than you do, and I'm sorry. ROSE: I'm sorry!

Rose panicking like this feels....weird?

I like the detail of Jade’s pawprint gloves. Also, she seems to have gained a headband as Rose lost hers. Only one hair accessory allowed in this comic, this ain’t no fucking Touhou.

JADE: THEYVE TAKEN YIFFY!!!!!!! D:

Oh thank Christ, no one knows what the fuck Jade is talking about. For a minute there I thought we were about to learn Jade and Dave had a daughter named Yiffy and I was about to walk into the sea. 

[codevassie]

Canonverse VLD Fic Recs

[***Let me know if I’ve missed anything on the Content Warnings!]

[**Do Not Ask Authors for Updates!]

[*Leave these authors Comments, please and thank you!]

Keith’s Type by AmbitiousSkychild

Status: Complete

Summary: “How would anyone notice what anyone else’s type is in the middle of all this?!” Matt demanded, laughing. “What’s Keith’s type?” Lance blurted out like an idiot. “It’s… obvious,” Pidge said. “He gets all flustered over shitty puns and most physical comedy. And have you seen the way he stares at Hunk when he’s going on about the mechanics of something? Like how the lions work? I’ve literally seen him blushing when Hunk goes into explanation mode.” “So, you think he has a crush on Hunk?” Lance squawked. “No. You bonehead,” Pidge laughed. “I’m saying any dad-joke-telling, klutzoid with good grades has probably got a pretty good shot at Keith.” Or: It figures that after years of getting it hilariously wrong face-to-face, Lance finally gets good at talking to Keith through a screen, which is, like, one of his biggest accomplishments. Then, Pidge makes the comment that Keith has a type, while heavily implying that it's Matt. But, listen, with everything going on with Voltron, the coalition, the Blade of Marmora, and Coran, Lance isn't going to get distracted worrying about it. Ask anyone, he's always been great with measuring levels of importance....

Relationships: Klance

CW: Jealousy, Referenced Suicide

My thoughts: As disappointing as canon can be, the canon universe has so much potential that authors take full advantage of. When canon posed the problem of Keith being apart from the team for oh so long, our wonderful authors simply took it as a challenge. This is one of the brilliant fics that roll with the long-distance thing, and it takes place throughout season four. I love fics from this season because A Lot happens and I thought there was so much more to it than what canon gave us--the team breaking apart was a big deal to me, so focusing on team dynamics, Keith’s time with the Blade, and--gosh--the end of this season, just means a lot to me. It focuses on a klance relationship in the heat of utter turmoil, and Lance’s jealousy was a cute and humorous aspect, especially with how harmless it was through Lance’s personality and the realization that he likes Keith.

The Loverboy Trials by PM_Writes

Status: Complete

Summary: He can tell Shiro is struggling to remain collected. “And why do you think Keith is your…sex…god?” And geez, that would be so much funnier if this wasn’t so disturbing. The representative leads them to the back of the council room where she pulls aside a large curtain. Behind it, a huge mural stretches to the ceiling. It looks exactly like Keith.

Relationships: Klance

CW: Referenced Suicide, Violence, Talk of Dubious Consent and Sex, Suffocation, (Alien) Alcohol, Injury

My thoughts: Another #FuckNaxzela2017 fic. This takes place after season four and Keith stays with Voltron for a bit after what happened. The team goes on a mission and things get weird--so, like, a regular canonverse fic, but when the war is getting really serious and we most need a bit of that Voltron normalcy (discretion: Voltron “normalcy” is missions going wrong and wonky). It’s really cool because the team is sort of back together, but Keith is still separated from them for the majority of the fic--just not with the Blade. It’s really weird circumstances, but Keith and Lance still interact throughout the fic a lot, so don’t let that discourage you. Its absurdity is hilarious; there’s excellent klance banter, and great fluff and angst.

Of Escorts and Espionage by hisboywriter

Status: Complete

Summary: Lance preened. Escort? That sounded kind of sexy and badass. “Why, of course, Princess,” he said, standing up to offer his hand at Allura. “I would escort you to the most Galra-infested reaches of the galaxy if you asked.” Allura’s arm rose but the hand she placed in Lance’s palm was not hers.It was Keith’s. ~ AKA I just really wanted klance blossoming through an adventure

Relationships: Klance

CW: Sexual Content, Blood and Violence, Vehicle Crash, Injury, Alcohol, Jealousy, Nightmares, Hyperventilation, Attempted Kidnapping, Fainting, Torture, Death

My thoughts: Remember this one? No? Seems like you’ve got an exciting read ahead of you. This is one that I read pretty early on in the fandom, so it’s a big nostalgia pick. It really emphasizes that enemies to lovers trope, and there’s secrets across the freaking spectrum. Lance and Keith are keeping secrets bc they’re undercover, but there’s also a whole bunch of shady stuff going on at this planet, and Keith is getting those Bad Vibes constantly. It is exciting and breathtaking and so beautifully written. 

and, we dream of home by mothpoem

Status: Incomplete, Continuation Not Determined

Summary: “Then come see me,” Lance murmurs, and it makes Keith’s heart pound behind his breastbone. “Us, I mean. Once a week or something? Like mental health check-ins. We can just hang out, or...or go on low-priority, low-stress missions? Scouting, or flower-picking for Coran, or supply runs. Dumb stuff. Just...so we know how you are. I don’t want...I mean, we all miss you. And I don’t want to sound presumptuous, but...it feels like you’re not...not okay, Keith.” Well, Keith thinks, a little weakly. He never really stood a chance, did he? “Okay,” he says, right away. No fight. No refusal. His life is a hell of a lot easier when he lets himself cave under all the ways he wants Lance's luminous attention, and company, and friendship. All the ways he wants Lance, full stop.

Relationships: Klance

CW: Swearing, Immature Teen Humor, Canon-Typical Violence, Alcohol, Dream Major Character Death, Referenced Suicide, Death Mention, Self-Deprecation, Bullying, Injury and Blood, Miscommunication

My thoughts: This fic makes me. So Happy. It’s another one after season four--really, during season five--because I have a problem, but oh my gosh look at how happy these boys are and tell me your heart isn’t full of joy. I’ll wait. Really, that’s the point of the recs; go read. Stupid teenagers in love stuck in the middle of a war, but they really need a freaking break and I support that. They deserve a break. They’re like fucking twelve. This fic just is so cute and so soft and so funny; it gives me life every time. 

Crossroads by manamune

Status: Complete

Summary: When Keith crashed his Lion into a Galra warship in order to stop it from destroying a solar system, and more importantly, his friends, he was fully prepared to die for it. What he didn’t prepare for was to wake up in an alternate universe where he and Lance were dating.

Relationships: Klance

CW: Panic Attacks, Dubious Consent, Referenced Suicide, Blood and Violence, Injury, Coma, Medication Mention, Sex and Sex Tape Referenced, Trauma, References to Hallucinations

My thoughts: Another throw-back! The Naxzela of its time, if I may say so. I'm joking. Sort of. It really kind of predicted that shit, though, didn't it. Anyway, this was another fic I read early on in this fandom and can I just tell you how blown away I was? It's labeled as a murder mystery, and, you know what, it is. You are absolutely trying to figure out what's going on the whole time, and it keeps you on the edge of your seat. It doesn’t... technically... take place in canonverse the whole time, but the main Keith is from canonverse. So it counts. Absolutely enthralling read.

[calumcest]

you and i were fireworks that went off too soon - chapter one

[ao3]

The tattoos appear one Wednesday night. 

“What’s yours?” Michael demands, sounding beside himself with excitement. Luke frowns.

“What’s my what?”

“Your tattoo.”

-

another soulmate au...but this time its ANGSTY (but dont worry it will end happy because i am me)

The tattoos appear one Wednesday night. 

Almost everyone wakes up for a few minutes at around three-thirty a.m., feeling a strange burning sensation in some square inch of their body. Almost everyone rubs sleepily at the patch of skin - wrist, bicep, shoulder, hip - rolls over, and goes back to sleep. 

Some people, of course, are already awake when it happens, and some people wake up and don’t go back to sleep. Those are the ones who start shooting off confused questions on social media, comparing tattoos, trying to figure out what they mean. A few people start theorising - mine reminds me of my wife, they say, or, mine reminds me of my first love, and by the time the rest of Australia wakes up, the theories have ballooned from maybe they’re to do with someone you need to reconnect with to this is a clear sign from the government that they’ve placed chips in our minds and know what we’re thinking about. 

Australia is the first major country to get them. As Tuesday rolls into Wednesday across the globe, more and more people’s thighs, forearms and ankles start to burn, until, by the time it gets to LA, people are buzzing with anticipation, almost the entire country awake at three-thirty in the morning, waiting for their tattoos. 

Luke doesn’t notice his immediately. He sleeps like the fucking dead, so he hadn’t even woken up in the middle of the night like most people, and he wakes up late for work so doesn’t have time to check his phone for the fifty billion messages he’s received overnight until he’s made it onto the train, panting as he flops into an empty seat opposite an elderly lady. She gives him a warm smile, which Luke thinks is a little strange, but he returns it slightly tentatively, pulling his phone out to avoid any further eye contact. 

His phone lights up before he even touches it, and Luke frowns as he sees new messages appearing every few minutes. On top of the messages, he’s got seventeen missed calls from Michael, twenty-five from his mum, three from his dad, and even some from Jack and Ben. 

He unlocks his phone and heads for the messages app, barely managing to open the group chat with Michael and Calum before his phone is lighting up with Michael ringing him again. 

“What?” he hisses, as quietly as he can, throwing an apologetic look at the lady opposite him. “I’m on the train.” 

“What’s yours?” Michael demands, sounding beside himself with excitement. Luke frowns. 

“What’s my what?” 

“Your tattoo.” Luke blinks. 

“Are you alright, Mike?” he says. “You know I don’t have any tattoos.” 

“Are you fucking serious?” Michael says, now sounding incredulous over the staticky phone line. “Have you not, like, looked at your phone? Seen the news? Spoken to a single person?” 

“I woke up late,” Luke says, a little defensively, even though he doesn’t really think he needs to defend not looking at his phone for an hour while he showered, dressed, made breakfast, sprinted to the station.

“Jesus Christ,” Michael says, and Luke can just imagine him pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Trust you to sleep through something like this.” 

“Through what?”

“Everyone got a tattoo last night,” Michael says. Luke hesitates for a moment, and then rolls his eyes.

“Mike, I’m not that gullible,” he says. “I think even I’d wake up if a tattoo artist broke into my house overnight.” 

“I’m not joking,” Michael says impatiently. 

“Where are they, then?” Luke says, slightly amused. 

“Mine’s on my elbow,” Michael says. “But everyone has them in different places.” 

“Right,” Luke says. “That’s convenient. Is this just a ploy to try and get me to strip naked on public transport and embarrass myself?” 

“Why do you never believe anything I say?” Michael says indignantly. 

“You’ve never given me much reason to,” Luke says. There’s a beat, and then-

“Yeah, that’s fair enough,” Michael says. 

“What’s yours, then?” Luke asks, because he might as well humour Michael. 

“It’s, uh,” Michael says, cagily. There’s a moment’s pause, and when it becomes obvious Luke’s waiting for an answer, he says quietly: “Duke?” 

“Duke?” Luke says, because he cannot have heard that properly. “Like, Calum’s dog Duke?” 

“Yeah,” Michael says, sounding a little nervous. Luke rolls his eyes. Obviously Michael’s just picked the first fucking thing that came to mind.

“Right,” Luke says. “Not really doing yourself any favours on convincing me this isn’t just a massive joke, Mike.” Michael makes a small noise somewhere between outrage and embarrassment. 

“Check the fucking news, then, arsehole,” he says, and then there’s a beep and he’s hung up. Luke removes the phone from his ear, screen back on the group chat where Calum’s still sending messages, and clicks out and onto his news app. 

He’s immediately confronted with approximately thirty-seven articles about tattoos. Blurry pictures of people’s tattoos, clips of news anchors showing their tattoos to the camera, interviews with people who claim they know what the tattoos mean, interviews with medical officials who are telling people to stay calm, the tattoos don’t appear to be dangerous. Luke’s first reaction is to bring down his notification bar and check the date - okay, May the seventh, so this isn’t an April Fool’s. It might be a late April Fool’s, though, he thinks.  

“He’s not lying to you,” someone says suddenly, and Luke’s head jolts up to see the old lady opposite him smiling at him benignly. 

“Uh, sorry,” he says, “what d’you mean?” 

“Your friend,” she says, “Mike? He’s not lying. Everybody got a tattoo last night.” She rolls her sleeve up to expose a frail, wrinkled arm, and right there, in the middle of her forearm, is a tattoo of a policeman’s hat. 

“That was my late husband’s identification number,” she says, pointing to the number underneath the hat. 

“Oh,” Luke says, because he has absolutely no idea what the appropriate response to everybody got a tattoo last night, by the way, here’s mine of my late husband’s police hat and identification number is. The lady smiles at him again, and rolls her sleeve back down. 

“You should look for yours,” she says knowingly, like she understands this whole tattoo situation. Luke opens his mouth, although he’s not really sure what he’s about to say - thank you? Piss off? What sort of a fucking alternate universe am I living in? - but then the train doors open and he looks outside and realises this is his stop. 

“This is my stop,” he says, thankful that this incredibly uncomfortable conversation is over. “Have a nice day?” He’s not really sure why he phrases it as a question, but he doesn’t have time to think about it, grabbing his bag and coat and just about making it off the train without getting decapitated by the closing doors. 

What a weird fucking start to the day, he thinks, as he starts towards the ticket barriers, but upon realising he’s left his season ticket at home all thoughts of a tattoo leave his mind. 

 ------- 

 The first person Luke sees when he gets into the office is Calum. He’s wearing a scarf indoors, which strikes Luke as a little strange, but he doesn’t have time to ask because as soon as Luke walks into the room, Calum rounds on him.  

“Why the fuck haven’t you been answering your phone?” he demands immediately. 

“Jesus Christ,” Luke groans as he throws himself into his chair. “Not you too.” 

“What?” 

“Mike rang me trying to convince me to get naked on the train because apparently someone tattooed me in my sleep last night,” Luke says, powering up his desktop. Calum gapes at him. 

“Are you telling me you haven’t seen yours yet?” he asks in disbelief. 

“What? Cal, are you fucking serious?” Luke says, annoyed. He might be gullible, but he’s not that gullible. “I’m not falling for this shit.” 

“Have you checked the news?” 

“Yeah,” Luke says, swivelling in his chair to face Calum as he waits for his computer to turn on. “It’s got to be some kind of joke. A late April Fool’s, I dunno.” Calum stares at him as though he’s just said the sky is green, or All Time Low are a bad band, or something. 

“Are you insane?” he asks incredulously. 

“Alright, show me your fucking tattoo, then,” Luke says sarcastically. Calum hesitates. 

“I don’t want to,” he says shiftily, after a moment.  

“Right,” Luke says smugly. “See?” 

“See what?”

“Mike came up with some bullshit too,” Luke says. “Said his was fucking Duke.” Calum stares at him for a moment. 

“Wait,” he says, and he sounds a little strangled. “Duke? Like, my dog?” 

“Yeah,” Luke says pointedly, in what he hopes is a I’m not that stupid kind of tone. 

“Oh,” Calum says, and now he sounds somewhere between frightened and elated. Luke cocks his head, frowning. 

“What?” he asks. 

“It’s just…” Calum trails off, and shrugs. 

“What?” Calum bites his lip, and then tugs the scarf down. 

There, inked on the side of Calum’s neck, is a Gibson guitar with six numbers on it: 201195. It takes Luke a minute to put two and two together, but after realising it doesn’t say 2011-95 but 20-11-95, it suddenly makes sense. That’s Michael’s guitar, and that’s Michael’s birthday. 

“Oh,” he says, and now he’s just confused. “Why the fuck did you get Michael’s guitar tattooed on your neck?” Calum lets go of the scarf and it snaps back up, covering the tattoo again. 

“I didn’t,” he says. “It appeared last night.” 

“Well, where’s mine, then?” Luke asks sceptically, looking down at his hands and turning them over and over, like a tattoo is suddenly going to appear. 

“I don’t know,” Calum says. “Andy’s was on his arse.” Luke stares at him. 

“I’m not getting my arse out in the office,” he says. Calum rolls his eyes. 

“Go to the fucking toilet,” he says. Luke stands up, because it seems like until he plays into this elaborate prank it’s not going to end, and then stops. 

“Wait,” he says. “What if it is on my arse?” 

“Then it’s on your arse,” Calum says, sounding a little nonplussed. It’s Luke’s turn to roll his eyes. 

“I won’t be able to see it,” he says, hoping Calum will get the hint. Calum stares at him for a moment, then shrugs, and stands up. 

“I hope it’s on your dick,” he says, with a grin. 

“Fuck you,” Luke says, as they walk to the toilet opposite their office. Luke pushes open the door to the first cubicle, and then pauses. “Wait, is it going to look weird if we’re in a cubicle together?”

“Probably,” Calum says, but he follows Luke into the cubicle anyway, closing the door behind him. 

It’s cramped with Calum in there too, and they shuffle around each other for a moment before Calum hops onto the toilet and gets out of Luke’s way, leaving him to take his jacket off and then fiddle with his shirt buttons. 

“This is the world’s worst strip-tease,” Calum comments after a moment, and Luke scowls at him. 

“Dickhead,” he says, and then, having finally removed his shirt, he turns around to hang it on the hook on the back of the door. That’s when Calum gasps. 

“It’s, uh. It’s on your back,” he says, and he sounds a little worried. Luke twists, trying to see. 

“What?” he says, because he’s not that flexible. “Where?”

“On your shoulderblade,” Calum says, pointing, as if it’ll help. Out of the corner of his eye, Luke can see a crease of concern between Calum’s brows. 

“I can’t see,” Luke says grumpily. 

“Hang on, I’ll take a picture,” Calum says, standing up and fishing his phone out of his pocket. Luke stands still for a moment, until he reckons Calum must have taken the picture, then turns around. Calum hesitates for a moment, then thrusts the phone at Luke. 

Luke sees his skin, pale and freckled, broken up by dark black ink. It’s a strangely beautiful tattoo, a bird carrying what looks like some kind of stick in front of a waning moon. It reminds him a bit of two of his ex’s tattoos, actually - he had some kind of bird on his neck, and a bunch of moons on his forearms.

It’s that thought that’s on his mind as he looks over the picture again, and his eyes fall on the stick. 

It’s a drumstick. 

Oh. 

Oh. 

“Fuck,” Luke says, and he suddenly feels sick. No fucking way has he woken up with his first ever tattoo, and it’s something to do with Ashton. “Fuck. Calum, tell me this isn’t real. Tell me this is a fucking prank.” Calum looks at him like he wishes he could tell Luke it was a prank, and shakes his head slowly. 

Luke feels his knees give out, falling to the cold tile floor hard. 

“It comes off, right?” he says, an edge of panic in his voice. Calum looks at him again, and then shakes his head again. “Cal, please. I- I can’t have a tattoo to do with Ashton.” 

“I don’t know what to tell you,” Calum says, eyes sincere and sad. 

“What does it mean?” Luke asks. Calum shrugs helplessly. 

“No one knows,” he says. 

“But you have Michael,” Luke says desperately, “and Michael’s got you.” Calum hesitates, and then shrugs again. 

“I don’t know, Luke,” he says gently. 

“Maybe it doesn’t mean anything,” Luke says, like he’s trying to convince himself more than anything. 

“Maybe,” Calum echoes, but he doesn’t sound sure at all. 

 -------

 It takes three months before it’s decided what they are. 

A huge number of studies are done in that time. Calum and Michael themselves volunteer for one, because apparently not everybody knows what - or who - theirs refers to. Some people turn out to have no tattoo, and it seems like people are only getting their tattoos on their eighteenth birthdays. It’s the only topic in the news for that entire time - the only topic of conversation, the only topic Luke encounters fucking anywhere.

He’s grateful his tattoo is on his shoulderblade, so it’s mostly hidden, because he sees everybody sneaking furtive glances at people’s necks, hands, forearms, collarbones, anywhere with visible tattoos. He dodges questions about what his tattoo is from everybody but Calum, Michael, and his family, because the words rise like bile in his throat - it’s Ashton. 

(“Oh, Luke,” Michael says sadly, when Luke tells him, and pulls him into the tightest hug Luke thinks he’s ever had.)

(“Oh, Luke,” his mum says sadly, when Luke tells her, sigh broken up by the static of the phone line.) 

(“Oh, Luke,” Jack and Ben say simultaneously on their group call, a moment of tense, awkward, sad silence hanging between them for a moment afterwards.) 

After three months, though, there’s a huge press conference. They’ve worked out what they are, the authorities say, and they’re going to do a televised conference announcing it and explaining how they reached that conclusion. 

Of course, the whole world is on tenterhooks. They do it in Europe, because it’s deemed the easiest timezone for everybody to work around, so Luke finds himself wedged between Michael and Calum on Calum’s sofa at eleven p.m., biting his nails almost obsessively. 

Michael and Calum aren’t speaking much, either. Luke’s not really sure it was the best move for them to be together while finding out what their tattoos about each other mean, but frankly, he’s too focused on finding out what his tattoo means to worry about them. 

At two minutes past eleven, researchers begin to file into the panel in front of the audience of journalists, world leaders standing behind them. It looks almost comical, Luke thinks a little hysterically, a row of men and women in lab coats to highlight their authority on the matter, the world’s most powerful people standing solemnly behind them. Some of their tattoos are visible too, but Luke’s too caught up willing time to move faster so he can finally fucking find out what having a tattoo about Ashton on his shoulderblade means. 

At four minutes past eleven, they start speaking. There’s about five minutes of preamble that Luke can’t follow, lots of words like hypothesis and methodology washing over him, and then the researcher sitting in the middle of the panel clears his throat, pushes his glasses up his nose, and takes a deep breath. 

“From these international, rigorously conducted studies of large portions of different populations, we have concluded,” he says, and nobody breathes. This is the moment. Luke’s heart seems to be trying to get his daily quota’s worth of heartbeats into a single second. “We have concluded that these tattoos appear to be soulmate markings.” 

Luke hears nothing that he says after that. 

Soulmate markings. The words echo in his mind, bouncing off every cell in his brain. 

It can’t be right, Luke thinks desperately, as he watches the panellists take questions from journalists but doesn’t hear the words they say. Ashton’s not his soulmate. There’s no such thing as soulmates, and if there were, Luke’s wouldn’t be the first man who had ever truly broken his heart, who had left him almost incapable of carrying on, who had brought him so fucking close to the precipice. 

He’d thought Ashton had been it, back then. He’d thought that he’d been so lucky to find the guy he wanted to marry so young in life. And then, three years later, Ashton had turned around one day, ashen-faced, and told him he didn’t love him anymore. 

That had been it. Luke’s world, Luke’s mind, Luke’s heart, had broken. 

So there’s no fucking way, no fucking way, that Ashton can be Luke’s soulmate. Luke’s soulmate wouldn’t have fallen out of love with him. Luke’s soulmate would never have pushed him so close to never seeing another birthday again. Luke’s soulmate wouldn’t leave him. 

Luke’s so caught up in the sickness that’s washed over him, hands trembling, freezing and sweaty, that he doesn’t realise what this means for Michael and Calum until a noise pulls him back to reality harshly. It’s Calum, clearing his throat. 

“Well,” he says, and he sounds weirdly high-pitched, and suddenly Luke thinks, shit. Calum and Michael are soulmates. 

“Yep,” Michael says, equally high-pitched and slightly choked. 

“Oh,” Luke puts in, because fuck, Calum and Michael are soulmates. 

“Oh,” Calum says, like he’s just remembered Luke’s there, and then there’s two sets of arms around Luke, warm and vanilla and mint and pine. 

“Oh, Luke,” Michael says, and he sounds so sad that Luke’s heart breaks all over again. 

Neither of them say anything more, because there’s so much to say that picking any one thing would be doing everything else an injustice.

 -------

 Luke does nothing about it for five weeks. 

Michael and Calum don’t say anything about it either, not wanting to push, but Luke’s getting kind of sick of the wary looks they send in his direction, of the whispered conversations that stop as soon as he walks into the room. They’ve fallen into it so easily that it chokes Luke up when he sees them, easy touches and glances that they’ve always had but have somehow taken on a new meaning. 

(“When did you know?” Luke asks Calum one night over the phone, staring up at his ceiling. 

“That I was in love with him?” Calum asks. 

“Yeah.” 

“I’ve always known,” Calum says, and Luke’s heart hurts because he’s so happy for them, he is, but he’s so fucking miserable.) 

He jumps every time he gets a text for the first few weeks, thinking it might be Ashton, and filled with both relief and a little bit of disappointment when it never is. His mum doesn’t ask, and neither does his dad, and nor do Jack and Ben, and he loves them all for it. He doesn’t want to talk about it, but he hates the way it hangs, thick and solid in the air between them all every time he calls. 

Five weeks is when he breaks. 

He’s in the toilet at work, sat fully-clothed on the closed toilet seat, practically hyperventilating as he types, erases, types, erases. 

Hey. I know we haven’t spoken in years-

Hey. I know we haven’t spoken in a while-

Hi. It’s Luke. 

Hi. It’s Luke (Hemmings).

It feels fucking awful still, even after a few years have passed, to see Ashton Irwin staring at him at the top of the screen, not the stupid inside joke contact name he’d had for the entirety of their relationship. It feels fucking awful typing so formally. It feels fucking awful not knowing what to say to someone who used to know Luke better than anyone else. The whole thing feels fucking awful. 

Eventually, when he’s been sat on the toilet for so long his arse is starting to go numb, he just types two words. 

What’s yours? 

He puts his phone back in his pocket, unlocks the cubicle with shaking fingers, and goes to wash his hands, because otherwise it’ll look like he’s incredibly unhygienic. 

His phone buzzes as he’s drying his hands, and his heart lurches. He hastily wipes his hands on his trousers, fumbling with trembling fingers with his phone and nearly throwing up when he sees Ashton Irwin flashing up on his screen. 

Ashton Irwin It’s you. 

 ------- 

 Luke sits on the information for two days before telling Michael and Calum. 

They’re at Michael’s, sitting on the sofa eating pizza (or, at least, Michael and Calum are eating pizza - Luke’s half-heartedly prodding at his), and Calum and Michael are having some kind of a heated squabble about whether tuna on pizza is acceptable or not, and Luke just blurts it out. 

“I texted Ashton,” he says suddenly, and both Michael and Calum stop, dead still. 

“You- what?” Michael says, after a few (incredibly strained) seconds have passed. 

“I texted Ashton,” Luke repeats, mumbling this time. He’s gazing intently at his pizza, mostly to avoid looking at Calum or Michael. 

“Did he reply?” Calum asks. 

“Yeah,” Luke says. Both Michael and Calum inhale sharply. 

“What did he say?” Michael asks. Luke swallows. He doesn’t think he can say it out loud. 

“I-” he starts, but cuts himself off, the words too heavy for his tongue to handle. He shakes his head instead, fishing for his phone in his pocket, and chucks it over to Calum, who catches it deftly. Michael leans over as Calum types in Luke’s passcode - his birthday, because he’s too stupid to remember any other date - and there’s a moment of tension, of bated breath, as they wait for the message to load. 

Luke knows when they’ve seen it because both of their faces contort into the same expression, somewhere between worry, confusion, fear, concern and sympathy. 

“Fuck,” Michael says, staring at Luke almost hesitantly, like he’s about to implode. 

“Are you okay?” Calum asks quietly. Luke shrugs. 

“I don’t know,” he says honestly, because he doesn’t. He’s over Ashton, he is, but he’s never going to forgive or forget the way Ashton left him, the way he broke him and swept away, not even glancing at the pieces of Luke he left in his wake. Ashton can’t be his soulmate. 

“That’s okay,” Calum says, calm and reassuring. “It’s okay to not know.” 

“It’s just a tattoo,” Michael says. “Tattoos can’t tell you who to love.” 

It makes Luke feel a little better. 

 -------

 He doesn’t text Ashton again. 

In fact, he’s almost succeeded in pushing Ashton into a corner of his mind again, shoving him back into the Do Not Open box that this tattoo business had let him out of, when his phone buzzes in the middle of the night a week later. 

He reaches over groggily, aiming to turn off whatever it is that’s lighting up his screen and sending vibrations resonating through his bedside table, but wakes up with a shot of adrenaline when he sees the name lighting up his screen. 

Ashton Irwin We should probably talk about this. 

Luke sits bolt upright in bed, palms suddenly sweating. The only thing he can think to do is unlock his phone and dial Michael, knowing he’ll be up, even though it’s two a.m. 

“What?” Michael asks, sounding slightly irked. Luke can hear clicking in the background, so it’s probably a safe bet that he’s playing a game. 

“Ashton texted me,” he says, and the clicking stops. 

“What did he say?” 

“Uh,” Luke says, holding the phone away from his ear and squinting as the bright screen blinds him in the darkness of the room. He fumbles for his light switch with one hand while exiting back into the messages app with the other. “‘We should probably talk about this.’” 

“Yeah, we should,” Michael says, “that’s why I’m asking what he texted you.” 

“No, that’s what he said,” Luke says. 

“He said you should talk about it?” 

“Yeah.” There’s a pause.

“That bastard,” Michael says calmly. “What did you say?”

“Nothing, yet,” Luke says. “I called you first.” 

“Tell him ‘nah, you’re good’,” Michael says, and Luke knows he’s only, like, ten percent joking. 

“Michael,” he says, tone admonishing, but his stomach feels a little lighter. Knowing he’s got Michael and Calum on his side - fiercely on his side - makes it feel a lot less scary, a lot easier to handle. 

“Well, what do you want to say?” Michael asks. 

“I don’t know,” Luke says. He’s fantasised about this so many times since they broke up - about Ashton texting him, about Luke having the power to say no, or say yes - but he’s never decided on a resolute response in his daydreams. 

“You don’t have to reply,” Michael says. “You don’t owe him shit.” 

“I know,” Luke says, and it comforts him, somehow. “Maybe I won’t.” 

“I’ll reply for you,” Michael says, and then there’s more clicking. “Just give me a few minutes to look up how to say ‘go fuck yourself’ in at least forty different languages.” Luke laughs at that, the knot in his stomach loosening considerably.

“I can’t fucking believe this,” he says, because now that he’s talking about it, now that it’s not just in his own head and his own heart, it feels a lot less frightening. “What a fucking joke. We get soulmates, and mine’s Ashton?” 

“That’s what you get for saying my fringe was ugly in Year Seven,” Michael says. 

“It was ugly.”

“Well, now something else terrible is going to happen to you,” Michael says cheerfully. 

“What’s worse than waking up with a giant tattoo about Ashton on my back?” Luke says. 

“Having to speak to him again,” Michael says. Luke doesn’t really think he can argue with that. 

“I’m going to turn my phone off,” he says, stifling a yawn, because now that the adrenaline’s subsided, the exhaustion is kicking in again. 

“You should just block him,” Michael suggests. Luke is sorely tempted for a moment, but then sighs.

“I’ll deal with it tomorrow,” he says, because it’s too late, and he’s not thinking straight, and he doesn’t want to do something he’ll regret. “Thanks for listening to me, Mikey.” 

“Always,” Michael says, with a sincerity Luke didn’t know he had in him. “But you’re going to have to pay me for my services in food.” 

“I’ll cook for you,” Luke says. 

“I said food, not chargrilled remnants of what used to be pasta,” Michael says. 

“I can cook pasta,” Luke protests. 

“‘Cook’ is a bit of a strong word to describe what you can do with pasta,” Michael says. 

“Arsehole,” Luke says, but he’s smiling. 

“Love you too,” Michael says, and Luke can hear the grin in his voice. “Go to bed.” 

“Alright, mum,” Luke grumbles. “Night.”

“Night,” Michael says, and then he hangs up, and Luke’s suddenly all too aware of the silence and darkness and sheer loneliness of his room. 

He switches his phone off, rolls over, and lets the warm feeling of knowing Michael’s there for him envelop him, eventually drifting off to sleep.

 -------

 “So,” Calum says, when Luke walks into work the next morning, exhausted and late. He’s swivelled around in his chair to face Luke, fingers steepled against his chin like he’s deep in thought. “Did you text him back?” Luke scowls. 

“I wish Michael would let me tell you things myself,” he says, slamming his bag onto his desk with a little more force than strictly necessary. 

“Did you?” Calum asks again. Luke shakes his head, throwing himself down in his chair, taking his phone out of his bag and putting it on the table before chucking his bag under his desk. 

“I don’t know if I want to,” he says. 

“Fair enough,” Calum says, with a shrug. Luke bites his lip. 

“Do you think I should?” Calum shrugs again. 

“I think you should do what feels right,” he says. 

“I don’t know what feels right,” Luke moans, putting his head in his hands. “He’s my fucking ex. He fell out of love with me. How is he my soulmate?” 

“Maybe he’s, like, a platonic soulmate?” Calum offers, and then recoils in the heat of the glare Luke sends his way. 

“Ashton’s not really high up on the list of people I’m looking to be friends with,” Luke says. Calum looks like he’s about to say something, but then Luke’s phone buzzes. He looks over, half-expecting it to be Michael, but-

Ashton Irwin Don’t ignore me, Luke. This is important. 

Anger suddenly flares hot in Luke’s stomach. 

“Is it him?” Calum asks. Luke nods, and holds the phone up over his desk for Calum to see. “Are you fucking serious?” 

“He texted me at two a.m.,” Luke says. 

“He’s so fucking entitled,” Calum says, sounding almost as irate as Luke feels. Luke’s so angry that he types out a response without even thinking about it. 

Me Are you fucking serious? You texted me at two in the morning. 

“What did you say?” Calum wants to know, and Luke dutifully reads it out to him. Calum nods approvingly. “Call him a bastard next time.” Luke laughs, both bitter and amused, and then his phone buzzes again. 

Ashton Irwin I know you’re at work. 

Ashton Irwin Call me on your lunch break? 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Luke mutters, thrusting his phone at Calum. 

“At least he put a question mark this time,” Calum says. “Fucking arsehole.” 

Luke’s fingers are shaking as he types.

Me Fuck you. You left me like it was nothing, like I meant nothing after I gave all of myself to you for three years. You never checked in on me, never asked about me, never bothered seeing if I was okay. You just told me you fell out of love with me, and then up and left. You don’t get to demand shit from me now. 

Luke erases it all. 

Me I don’t have anything to say to you.

The typing bubble pops up as soon as Luke’s sent the message, and he watches the words form in front of his eyes. 

Ashton Irwin I do, though. 

 ------- 

 Luke’s not really sure how he finds himself standing outside in the biting early-October wind on his lunch break, finger hovering over the dial button on Ashton’s contact name. 

He’s been standing there for five minutes, almost pressing it but never quite getting there (except one time his finger had slipped and he’d pressed it and then stabbed the ‘end call’ button about fifty times straight in a blind panic). 

On the one hand, he really, really doesn’t want to talk to Ashton. He’s moved on from Ashton, with a lot of expensive therapy, a lot of leaning on his friends more than he should have and a lot of eating his body weight in processed food, and he wants Ashton to stay a part of his past. He’s worked hard to get to where he is today, and he doesn’t need to be flung back to where he had been. 

On the other hand, this is kind of a big deal. They’re soulmates. Ashton was right, although Luke doesn’t want to admit it - this is something they should talk about. Plus, it can’t hurt to hear what Ashton has to say, right?

With ten minutes left of his lunch break and approximately the same amount of time before he has to start sacrificing fingers to frostbite, Luke takes a deep breath and presses the dial button. 

It rings twice, and then there’s a click as Ashton picks up. 

“Hello?” Ashton says, and Luke suddenly feels incredibly sick. He hasn’t heard Ashton’s voice in two years, not since he was telling Luke he didn’t love him anymore, and it throws Luke back to that place, making him feel small and vulnerable and pathetic. 

“Hi,” he says, and he’s proud of how steady his voice comes out given the circumstances. “I have ten minutes.” 

“Okay,” Ashton says. “You’re still living in Sydney, then?” 

“What?” Luke says, slightly taken aback by the question. “Oh. Yeah.”

“Cool,” Ashton says. There’s a moment of awkward silence, and Luke contemplates Googling the quickest way to end his own life before Ashton speaks again. 

“How are you?” he asks, and Luke can’t help but laugh at that. 

“Are you fucking serious?” he asks, and he suddenly feels a little better, a little more in control. Ashton’s asking how he is, and he’s the one laughing. He’s the one with the power. Ashton wants to talk to Luke - Luke doesn’t want to talk to Ashton. 

“What?” Ashton sounds a bit defensive. 

“Get to the point,” Luke says, feeling braver and bigger with every passing second. “I didn’t call for a fucking catch up.” 

“Jesus,” Ashton mutters. “What the fuck happened to you?” You happened, Luke thinks bitterly, but he won’t give Ashton that satisfaction. 

“I grew a fucking spine,” he says instead. “Just tell me what you wanted to talk about.” 

“Well,” Ashton says. “I just- I feel like we should talk about the fact that we’re...y’know. Soulmates.” 

“I don’t have anything to say about it,” Luke says. 

“Are you serious, Luke?” Ashton says, sounding slightly pissed off, and Luke’s caught off-guard for a moment, hearing his name in Ashton’s familiar yet strange voice again. 

“Yeah,” Luke says, and he can’t help the bitterness that tinges his tone. “You fucking left, Ashton, and it’s been two years. What the fuck am I supposed to have to say to you?” 

“We’re soulmates,” Ashton says, like that’s supposed to mean something to Luke. 

“Oh, what, so you wouldn’t have fallen out of love with me if you got a fucking tattoo a few years earlier?” Luke says, fury swirling in his chest. “You needed a bit of ink to tell you who to love?” 

“That’s not what I mean,” Ashton says, even though to Luke it sounds like it’s exactly what he means. 

“Right,” Luke says sarcastically. “What’s the point in this call?” 

“To fucking talk, Luke, not have you bite my head off,” Ashton says. The fury grows hotter in Luke’s chest, seeping into his veins and heating up his muscles. 

“Talk about what?” he spits. 

“You’re my fucking soulmate!” Ashton says, voice rising. “Don’t you want to fucking talk about it?” 

“No!” Luke shouts, and two passers-by give him an odd look. He lowers his voice, and tries again. “No. I don’t have anything to say about it.” 

“I think we should meet up,” Ashton says. 

“I think you’re fucking insane,” Luke tells him. “I’m going back to work. Don’t contact me again.” 

“Wait,” Ashton nearly yells, and Luke, out of instinct, hesitates. “Uh. What’s your-  what’s it of?” 

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Luke growls, and hangs up. 

He lets out a shaky exhale as he tips his head back against the cold brick wall behind him, anger pounding through his veins, ringing in his ears. 

Fuck Ashton Irwin, he thinks, blinking up at the cloudless sky. Fuck Ashton Irwin, and fuck the soulmate tattoos. 

chapter two

[bigskydreaming]

@elfysparkles88​

#listen it's a universal problem#I love my mans Scott#everyone is always bagging on him WHY#Scott Summers#X-Men

Its because Scott Summers is inevitably compared and contrasted with those around him, and he has the great misfortune of running in the same circles as an all-star line up of like....just the absolutely most Ridiculous People to Ever Ridick.

We’re talking about a guy whose dad was abducted by aliens and from there went on to decide, welp, guess I gotta become a space pirate now, jaunty earring and all, no, shhh, shh, no, there are no alternatives, I gotta, no, I said no - SHUT IT, I SAID I GOTTA BE A SPACE PIRATE NOW ITS THE ONLY WAY. Oh btw, meet my fianceé. She’s an alien mercenary who is a little like a skunk but don’t call her that to her face or she’ll shoot you in yours. How’s that for swoonworthy, am I right, son?

We’re talking about a guy whose own son was a literal sixty year old Grumpy Old Man overburdened with world-weariness, wildly unnecessary shoulderpads and arthritic joints when Scott was barely hitting his third decade. With said son now randomly being a moody sixteen year old again, with a pet sentient sword he talks lovingly to, because apparently Nathan Summer’s take on teenage rebellion was to act out by being all LOL Fuck Time Travel Paradoxes and then rebelliously zooming around the space/time continuum while blasting a soundtrack of MCR probably, until he finally got a bead on his older self and shot himself in the face while being like “its not that I’m angry with you, I’m just disappointed” and look this is the part where your eyes are gonna wanna just glaze over so your brain can have a break, shhh, shh, don’t ask questions, just let it be, it happened, its a thing.

We’re talking about a guy whose brother rode a merry-go-round of “Am I a good guy this week or am I a bad guy because Reasons or sometimes Brainwashing or sometimes I Don’t Even Fucking Know, Look Don’t @ Me Bro, I Just Fucking Work Here, I’m Not In The Loop” for most of his twenties until dying in a fiery explosion only to inexplicably return years later as a coma patient who finally woke up one day and said “Whoa, just got back from tripping around the multiverse and boy do I have stories cuz apparently I’m the Nexus of All Realities, so hah, SUCK IT, big brother, and yes that is TOO a thing, shut up, LET ME HAVE THIS. Oh and also btw don’t spend a lot on your wedding gift for me and Lorna because I’m gonna leave her at the altar once I realize that I’m actually more in love with the random nurse lady who changed my bed pans while I was in a coma having a romantic rendezvouz with her in Paris in my brain courtesy of her psychic eight-year old kid trying to play matchmaker for her cuz like, she doesn’t date much apparently but its whatever, this is FINE, I have no objections. Ugh why are you looking at me like that Scott, no, I don’t need to “talk” with someone about everything I’ve ‘been through,’ ugh I’m HAPPY you asshole, god, why don’t you ever want me to just be HAPPY ugh you just have to control EVERYTHING with your over-bearing BS like “I am concerned your decision-making processes might be affected by all the people tampering with your decision-making processes over the years” like umm DID I ASK? No? I didn’t think so? YOU’RE NOT MY REAL DAD, SCOTT, UGH THAT DOES IT, IM RUNNING AWAY TO BE A SUPERVILLAIN AGAIN AND THIS TIME ITS TOTALLY YOUR FAULT, YOU’LL BE SORRY WHEN I CRY HAVOK AND LET LOOSE THE DOGS OF WAR THIS TIME FOR SURE, AND OMG FOR THE LAST TIME I KNOOOOOOW THAT’S NOT HOW ITS SPELLED, ITS ABOUT THE AESTHETIC SCOTT, ITS CALLED HAVING A SENSE OF STYLE, UGH, LET ME LIIIIIIIIIIIVE.”

We’re talking about a guy whose other little brother randomly showed up and started killing people one day being like “hahaha surprise, bet you all forgot about me, PS, I’m REALLY FUCKING MAD AT YOU ALL FOR FORGETTING ABOUT ME” because the world’s most powerful telepath made everyone forget about him and the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day they all had once and this is fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine, this is normal. As is the way his newly discovered slash remembered slash resurrected slash recently returned from spending the last decade fucking around as a disembodied energy ghost on a rock up in Earth’s orbit little brother then decided the Earth just wasn’t big enough for the both of them, the both of them in this case meaning both him, singular, and his Angst, as a wholly separate and towering entity in its own right. So instead he fucked off to space and decided to conquer a vast alien empire and spend the next several years being their god-emperor or whatever until he got bored with that. And also he kinda sorta killed their dad for a bit but whatever, its fine, he got better, and then he also kinda sorta died for a bit himself but whatever, its fine, he got better, and there was that whole interstellar war between himself and the Inhumans but whatever that wasn’t even his FAULT, Scott, THEY STARTED IT, god, do you ever stop JUDGING ME AND MY LIFE CHOICES and PS I’m still mad at you for killing Xavier, you fucking asshole, not because you did it but because like, you KNOW I wanted to do it, I had a whole fucking villain monologue moment about it and everything, you were literally there, UGH WHY WON’T YOU LET ME HAVE NICE THINGS?!?! YOU ARE THE ENEMY OF FUN AND JOY AND HEY MAYBE YOU WERE THE REAL VILLAIN ALL ALONG, DID YOU EVER THINK OF THAT? HUH? MR. I’M THE BOSS, WAIT WHO’S THE BOSS? OH YEAH STILL ME, SCOTT, I’M THE BOSS, YOU GOTTA STOP BEING A SPACE EMPEROR GABE BECAUSE YOU CAN’T BE THE BOSS, ONLY I AM ALLOWED TO BE THE BOSS BECAUSE I’M THE BOSS AND I SAID SO AND YOU GOTTA DO WHAT I SAY OR I’LL TELL DAD.” 

And that’s not even getting into how we’re also talking about a guy who basically ended up divorcing his first wife and suing for sole custody on the grounds of “Well, your Honor, she tried to sacrifice our son on a literal demonic altar in order to summon Hell to Earth to destroy everything just to get back at me after I left her. Yes, your Honor, I understand that is in fact Asshole Behavior, but there were extenuating circumtances, you see, the woman I left her for was my first love before her who I thought was dead. And also, she was literally my wife before my wife was. No, I don’t mean I was married before Maddie, I mean Jean was kinda pretty much already Maddie before Maddie was Maddie. Its this whole clone thing. Look, I’m just saying it was a complicated situation and I know I have my part to play in it, but I still stand by my conviction that trying to sell out our entire planet and species to the legions of Hell while using the innocent blood of our ten month old as the Golden Ticket to the Chocolate Factory was still a little over the top and not really the right way to handle it either. Also, I contend that I can provide a better home environment at the moment than someone who is insisting on being addressed as The Goblin Queen because what even is that, honestly, Your Honor, and also, she also brainwashed my brother into trying to kill me on her behalf, which to be fair does happen about every other month anyway, but still, like. Dick move, you know?”

And we’re also talking about a guy whose second wife who was kinda sorta his first wife but only in that It Ain’t Bigamy If Its A Clone Thing way....like, I mean. Its kinda hard NOT to come across as the bland one in the relationship when your second wife occasionally moonlights as the AirBnb of choice for a cosmic parakeet goddess of rebirth and fiery destruction who is pretty infamous for the ragers she hosts every time she pops into town for a visit, all smiles and (literal) sunbeams (of scorching lethality) and “Lol hey hot stuff, remember me?” As if someone who ate an alien civilization’s sun the last time she hit a Mood is like....really in danger of ever being “New phone, who dis?”ed. But that is neither here nor there, much like the sentients of Alpha Centauri Bumfuckville after she went all Goodnight Sun, Goodnight Moon, Goodnight Solar System on their corner of the galactic neighborhood, because.....tbh I don’t think she ever actually said “why” there. Its one of those things where if you don’t already KNOW why a cosmic parakeet goddess of rebirth and fiery destruction has decided its nighty-night time for this particular zipcode.....like.....that’s not really something you just ASK, y’know? Its....tacky, probably. Also, low on the self-preservation instincts, probably.

Plus we’re talking about a guy whose second marriage to Yet Another Woman It Probably Should Have Registered As A Bad Idea To PIss Off Like This ended in like....so, okay, this was a bit more His Bad than even Round One was, courtesy of a “Groundbreaking. Revolutionary. Show-stopping” reinterpretation of what was up until this point te much more ambiguous and metaphorically named “Mental Affair” concept. Though it must be said, Scotty always has skewed a bit more towards the literal minded in his personal approach to things, so, y’know. That tracks. But regardless, the pattern remains consistent here, as once again, its not always easy to register on peoples’ radar as anything other than the Plus One when your newest paramour prides herself on being both the entire planning committee AND star attraction of Victoria’s Secret (assuming that said Secret is Secret Aims at World Domination) Presents: A Renaissance Faire. But in an evil and also kinky way. Except now with sixty percent less evil on account of how Emma’s reformed these days, but not a hundred percent less evil because she’s not like, REFORMED reformed, cuz that would be boring, eww, could you imagine, no, you couldn’t, because she won’t let you and she can do that, she’s that good at telepathy and that bad at boundaries. Still the same amount of kinky as before though, but like. That’s just about Strong Branding. After all, at the end of the day Emma Frost is above all else, a good businesswoman.

But yes, she is also a big fan of the Aesthetic, with that aesthetic being Her Whims On Steroids because like they say, go big or go home, and Emma Frost does not believe in going home when she can simply acquire your home instead. Hate the game, not the player. She didn’t make the rules, she just came to win. Point being, its hard to follow up an act like Jean-Who-Is-Sometimes-Phoenix-And-Sometimes-Dark-Phoenix-And-Oh-Hell-She-Cant-Even-Keep-Track-So-How-Could-Anyone-Else-Really, but say what you will about Emma’s wardrobe, she’s more concerned with clothing herself in unapologetic take no prisoners ambition, and as such, her being the follow-up to Scott’s epic romance with his childhood sweetheart turned literal cosmic embodiment of fire and passion, like.....this was never a big checkmark in the con side of a pro and con list for Emma. It was more like oh, yes, hello there, Challenge Absolutely Fucking Accepted.

Which, y’know, all the points to House Frost for showing spine and boy howdy, that’s a spine alright.....but at the same time, going head to head with someone who is classified as a galactic threat when people are deliberately low-balling her, like, for no other reason than you’re bored and your manicure appointment isn’t for another couple hours.....like that’s the kind of thing where it has to be pointed out that there were possibly alternative options worth considering somewhere in between ‘having no spine’ and ‘spiting cosmic entity who can kill you with her brain by stealing her man and saying come at me bro because like....my spine, let me show you it.”

But again, just to reiterate the premise here.....our thesis here today is that Scott Summers Gets a Bad Rap For Being Bland or Boring or Not Standing Out, But In Reality The Issue Is Just That All The People He Knows Are Truly Ridiculous People.

In other words, Scott Summers is no more the Everyman of the X-Men than any of his Truly Ridiculous Friends and Family.

Because an actual everyman would have bounced out of that madhouse way the fuck back in Chapter One: In Which Things Just Got Ridiculous.

Cut to Scott Summers, in contrast: *looks around, purses lips, weighs options* Nah. This is fine.

See also:

His daughter, who didn’t so much arrive after the traditional nine months of waiting and preparing for a bundle of bouncing baby joy but instead just like...plopped back into the past as a full grown woman hailing from a dystopian future she was hellbent on preventing by any means necessary, even if that means had Scott frantically shouting RACHEL NO as she screamed RACHEL YES and sprinted straight at someone like Selene (a villain who has survived 17,000 years of pissing people off and making enemies of actual, literal gods) while thinking “oh yeah, I got this.”

(To be fair, she probably DID have it, or would have, if Logan hadn’t chosen that moment of all moments to have his once-centennial contemplation of “Wait, what if....murder is...NOT good?” Never underestimate the daughter of a cosmic goddess.)

Or see also also:

Scott’s original classmates, including Doctor Hank “I’m not an over-archiever, I’m just stress-eating because its lunchtime and I’ve only revolutionized two whole fields of scientific study so far today,” McCoy, Warren “Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful, hate me because I’m a billionaire, wait no, I’m just kidding don’t hate me at all hahaha I’m too sexy” Worthington III, and Bobby “I may look cute and unassuming and like my only priority in life is video games but sike, I too am a potentially cosmic level immortal being of nigh-unlimited power or at least I will be whenever I get around to tapping that potential like I’m currently tapping xy up down A + BBA like a boss, now shhh, don’t interrupt me while I’m kicking ass at Mario Kart I said I’ll GET TO THAT LATER, ugh, JEEZ, my priorities are FINE, Scott, like get off my back already, you’re not even my real dad” Drake.

In conclusion:

Scott Summers is valid, and there may be legions drinking his Hatorade, but make no mistake, its not that he’s Less Than, its that every single person in his social circle is just that damn Extra.

[cagestark]

Would love a vengeful Tony - those who ignore, insult or hurt Peter in any way find that texts intended for mistresses are sent to wives, their names go missing off guest lists for important events, shady business deals are exposed, etc. Those who are kind and thoughtful to Pete reap rewards, their businesses thrive, their children gain scholarships, etc. Everything is done quietly, discreetly. Nothing can be connected to Tony, but Peter is a genius too - he knows and loves Tony all the more. 😍

Read on AO3 here. 

Hope this is okay

Warnings: dark!Tony who will do anything for his precious boy. Explicit sexual content. Peter is 18+ though. Violence. Dark stuffs. But it’s still pretty soft IMO

-

Alternate universes are infinite. That means that there are an infinite number of worlds out there where Tony Stark does not own Peter Parker. In those worlds, Tony’s must be soft-bellied, burden with consciences that bow their backs over things like right and wrong. Maybe the attraction is there still, the lust for a boy with curls and eyes like liquid cedarwood. He probably jerks off in the dead of night for a kid less than half his age and then cries about it afterwards.

Tony feels sorry for those poor sons of bitches.

He has no such qualms. When Peter applies for the Stark Industries internship, freshly eighteen years old, Tony sees, wants, and takes. Finding out that his boy is also a super hero feels like kismet. Peter adores him. Its visible in the wide wet eyes, the flush that still blooms on his cheeks when he sees Tony naked even months after the first time. And maybe a little begrudgingly, Tony begins to feel the same way about him. His worth to Tony grows exponentially until he can no longer ignore that the boy is the most important thing in his life. Peter is precious. He is kind-hearted (foolish as kindness is), thoughtful, and intelligent.

And he is damaged.

It is months into their growing relationship when Peter finally confides in him, but Tony is no fool: he knows the signs of a bruised apple when he sees one. Peter is shy to the point of insecurity, apologizing for his enthusiasm, for the way his body looks naked, for using the wrong size coffee grounds in the French press. Tony himself has never felt the need to apologize for his own existence, so the habit in his young lover is particularly unfathomable.

Then they get drunk. Peter isn’t legal to drink—not in this country—but if he’s responsible enough to fuck who he wants to, he should be responsible enough to partake. Tony drinks scotch, but Peter coughs his face red when he takes a sip. Instead, he prefers the softer, sweeter or sour liquors and mixed drinks. They have a full bar, so Tony spends the evening making one of every kind of drink he knows just so Peter can take little sips of each, flushing with alcohol, eyes shy as he proclaims it’s good, if he like it and it’s alright, if he doesn’t.

They end up on the couch together, Peter reclined between his legs. It’s there in a soft, trembling voice that Peter begins to cry in his drunkenness and admits the love he had before, the one who bruised him.

“Tell me his name,” demands Tony.

Peter shakes his head.

“He never like, hit me,” Peter says. “But he did slap me sometimes. It didn’t really hurt, but it was so embarrassing. Like I was a, a child. Or a dog.”

Tony just hums, waiting. On the back of the couch, his hand in clenched into a fist, but still he waits. A sniper holds his breath when he needs to steady the scope.

“We went to school together—” yes, yes, go on, Tony thinks. “—he bullied me for a while. Innocent stuff. Then one day we had a heart to heart and he admitted that his animosity towards me was because he was gay. He didn’t know how to express himself, I guess. Or maybe he resented me, because I was out and he wasn’t. I don’t know. We started dating in secret, and I thought—god, I’m such an idiot. It sounds so stupid now—I thought that it was cute. We were like, enemies to lovers. Like the stories. But it wasn’t a story. Not a good one.

“Even after he came out, it felt like no matter what I did, he wasn’t happy with me. Sometimes, it seemed like he enjoyed being unhappy with me. My body was always too scrawny—this was before the bite—and I was always doing things wrong. He said that I embarrassed him. Maybe I did. I don’t know. He’d invite his friends over, the ones who used to bully me with him. They would make fun of me and he, he never stopped them. They’d say the m-most humiliating things to me. Why didn’t he stop them, Tony?” Peter asked, voice cracking, weeping into Tony’s chest.

“A name, darling. Be brave for me. Give me names.”

Peter turns to look at him, eyes red and glazed from alcohol, cheeks wet. He is painfully beautiful. “What will you do to them?”

“Nothing, my sweet,” lies Tony. Some lies are necessary things. “Nothing, unless you tell me to.”

He gives names. A whole list of them, and Tony doesn’t need his artificial intelligence recording to remember them. He doesn’t need an eidetic memory to remember them. They are burned into his brain along with the image of Peter now only thinner, cheeks wet and red because he was slapped like a dog.

Peter cries himself to sleep. Tony carries him to bed, undresses him with glazed over eyes. His mind is miles away. Once the covers are pulled up snugly against Peter’s chin, a wastebasket beside the bed should he wake and feel sick, Tony goes down to his lab, still buzzed, wearing nothing but his pajama pants. The air is cold, but he doesn’t feel it.

“FRIDAY, baby?”

“Yes, boss.”

“We’ve got work to do.”  

-

Peter is naked in his bed, artfully covered by a sheet still damp from their lovemaking. Belly down, he props himself up on his elbows with a Stark tablet in front of him, scrolling through news stories, filling Tony in on news articles involving him.

“This article says you’re trying to create a new world order,” Peter says. This is like after-play for Tony. Besides his cock, his next favorite thing to have stroked is his ego. When he hears Tony snort, the younger man glances over, lips still swollen from the tender abuse they suffered between Tony’s teeth. Peter smiles. With a flick of his finger, the tablet goes dark. He nudges it onto the end table and rolls so that he can spoon his naked body against Tony’s side. When he speak next, he sounds sleepy. “Can you imagine that, Tony? You ruling the world?”

He hums. He can imagine that. He does. Sees it in his dreams, knees bending in supplication to him, wills bending to his way. “Can’t you, Pete?”

The boy presses a hot kiss to one of Tony’s pecks. It’s amazing how little water can help a blossom to bloom, and for Peter, he would bring down a veritable rainstorm. Look how far he has come from days when he would hesitate to brush their fingers as they watched a movie together or were in the back of the car together. He is becoming a diamond, Tony’s crown jewel. “I can see you as a king,” Peter says.

Tony grins. “And where are you, my sweet?”

Peter hums. His hand drags across Tony’s flat stomach, gently scraping blunt fingernails against where stomach becomes pelvis, feeling the muscles beneath it twitch to his whims. The boy has come twice in the last hour, but he is already hard against Tony’s leg. “I don’t know,” he says, voice low. The hand drifts lower and brushes his soft cock, which makes a valiant stir. “Maybe I’ll be your—paramour. Your willing slave. At your feet to take care of all your needs.”

Tony frowns. He leans away, loathing even the brief look of anxiety on Peter’s face at his withdrawal, the cheeks flushing with anxiety, wondering did I do something wrong, did I sound stupid? Taking the softly pointed chin in his hand, he brings them so close their noses almost brush. “You are no servant, and I don’t intend for you to be anywhere near my feet. You will be my queen.”

And like that, his blossom blooms a little more, leaning forward to press their mouths together, soft and sensual as rose petals.

-

The galas are a treat since he’s starting dating Peter. They make games of them, usually delightfully sexual ones that have them tugging their dress pants down in the limo on the way home so Peter can sit on his cock—though there was that one lovely night that Tony took him into the bathroom during the speeches, locked the door behind them so he could bend his boy over the sink and rim him within an inch of his life. For the rest of the night, Peter hadn’t been able to look away from his mouth, blushing and adjusting himself.

Tonight, Peter is wearing a plug. Watching him shift restlessly at dinner has had Tony half-hard for the better part of the evening. Desperate for a reprieve to clear his head, he stalks to the bar to order them drinks: a glass of champagne for Peter and a scotch on the rocks for himself. If they know he is giving his underage date alcohol, they don’t dare say anything.

It’s there leaning up against the polished bar that he overhears Peter’s name spoken from a group nearby. His hearing is excellent, and it takes little effort to block out the white noise of the room to listen in to the conversation taking place among three heads ducked together. He recognizes them: the man is CFO of a private security franchise in upstate New York that made several attempts to offer Stark Industries security services. Tony had humored him for far too long, asking detailed questions about the company’s capabilities before turning him down—and why shouldn’t he know what techniques the little guys are using? It’s smart strategy. Hacking into the man’s private servers to read his emails had been purely for entertainment. All work and no play would make Tony a very dull boy indeed.

Beside him are two women, most likely a wife and a secretary, probably interchangeable.

“—look ridiculous together. Like father and son. If he wanted to feel twenty years younger, a prostitute could have done the same thing for him and with half the work.”

“He’s a cute kid,” the secretary or wife says.

The CFO snorts. “Have some taste, Margot.”  

Tony doesn’t see red. His hands don’t turn into fists, his teeth don’t gnash. He doesn’t get angry, he gets even, wracking his brain for the most insignificant details, anything that he could use to his advantage here—and then he remembers, something about a food allergy, berating the PA who went out to the local bakery for breakfast and brought pastries back to the office.

“Three more glasses of champagne,” says Tony, leaning against the bar. “And tell me. Do you have strawberries?”

When Tony appears behind them, drinks in hand, CFO’s soul nearly leaves his body. All the blood leaves his face. Even the secretary wives look anxious. One of them can’t even meet his eyes. There are probably rumors about the kind of man that Tony is and the kind of business he conducts. When his reputation does half the work of intimidating scum like this, then he considers himself thankful for it.

“Drinks?” Tony says, passing around flutes. “It’s an open bar. Please make sure to partake.”

“Thank you, Mr. Stark,” Margot says. Sensible woman. If only she kept better company.

When Tony returns to the table with Peter’s champagne and his own scotch, the ice hasn’t even begun melt. “That was fast,” Peter says. This is his second glass, and he is already looking more relaxed, eyes a little lidded. Whether it is from the alcohol or the plug inside his ass, Tony doesn’t know. What he does know is that he himself is unbearably hard, has been since the strawberry idea came to him.

“Let’s get out of here,” he suggests.

It’s as they’re leaving that the other shoe drops. It must have started as a tickle in his throat, maybe the buzz of numb lips. By the time CFO realizes he’s having a severe allergic reaction, his throat has swelled and his face is turning purple. A crowd gathers, and he and Peter are part of it, the boy pressed against him back to Tony’s front. From what he can gather, the man has an epi-pen that his secretary carries, but she has left it in the Rolls Royce. By the time the valet finds her car among the sea in the parking lot, the man is unconscious.

“Is there anything we can do?” Peter asks, watching as the paramedics administer an emergency shot of epinephrine.

“I’ve done quite enough already,” purrs Tony. His hips give a tiny aborted thrust, cock aching. Peter’s chest begins to rise and fall more rapidly. It’s a warm enough night for them to shed their jackets, holding them over their arms and in front of their erections like the gentlemen they are.

But nothing they do in the limousine on the way home is gentlemanly, and that’s the way Tony likes it.

-

There are three names Peter gives him. By the time FRIDAY is done working her magic, Tony has entire life histories, not just for the three boys who graduated alongside Peter at Midtown High School, but for their families. Their ancestries. Tony doesn’t know where inspiration will strike, so he has FRIDAY compile everything. He reads the files leisurely in the evenings when Peter is lounging between his legs watching television or even in bed when the boy slumbers next to him.

Of the three, he knows that Flash will receive the worst of it. Tony will be the old testament God, cursing Flash and four generations of his descendants. That is where he puts his true energy, drawing from that dark well inside of him where is wrath pools. It makes him giddy, wondering how far he is willing to go.

The inspiration is endless, with Flash’s life laid out in front of him. After graduation, he went to a second-rate technical school in New Jersey after a series of rejected applications to MIT. Had he been trying to follow Peter?

Afterwards, he moved north to Maine where he works for the Gulf of Maine Research Institute, probably spending his days smelling of salt water, working on electric monitoring systems meant to replace human observers on commercial fishing boats.

Digging into his criminal record is where it gets personal. Because there is very little. One domestic violence charge, the plaintiff being the State of New York, but it takes only a little elbow grease to see that it is Peter. Flash had pled no contest. He served no time in jail, just faced parole for 18 months and a required anger management class.

Besides that, there is nothing. No more charges. Tony tells himself that the vast majority of such personal crimes go unreported—and really, would it make Peter feel any better? To know that it hadn’t been personal, it hadn’t been just him that Flash had abused?

Tony has never been a victim of abuse. While he usually doesn’t have difficulty imagining how people will feel, even in such instances of heightened emotion, Peter is an enigma. The consequences of being wrong, of hurting his boy. It’s too much to bear.

Still, he digs deeper. Flash is married to a native Maine woman. FRIDAY has social media photographs included in the file, and they look—like a couple. He won’t say a nice couple, because he desperately wants them dead. But they would probably look lovely in side by side burial plots. The smiles look genuine, arms wrapped around each other. Pictures of them together on the beach looking out at the bleak Atlantic Ocean. But he knows the kind of masks people put on for the public. He’s more interested in knowing about Flash’s relationship when the camera is off, pointed elsewhere.

“Get me their phone conversations, FRIDAY, baby.”

But whatever he expected; it wasn’t this. The tenderness between them. The loving messages sent in the middle of the day. The largest argument they have is over what they will have for dinner after Flash comes home from work, and the boy apologizes for his terse messages within twenty minutes of sending them. He sounds contrite. He sounds genuine. He sounds in love.

Why does that make it worse? Why does that make Tony angrier? Tenderness existed inside this Flash the whole time—why wouldn’t he give it to Peter?  Tony logs off, turns off his systems, shuts down the lab for a while. Sometimes the wrath he keeps deep in that well inside him swells up like the tide, swells up like a spring after rain. It no longer feels like the well is inside him, but that he is in the well, looking up through a haze of fury towards a sky he can’t see.

He doesn’t want to act in anger.

The kind of justice Peter deserves is cool and calculated.

-

His boy is in his lap, confident enough to crawl there while the movie they were watching draws on behind them, their kissing a sensual soundtrack. Peter is so beautiful like this, when the slightest arousal melts away his inhibitions. It is animalistic, the way they lick into each other’s mouths, the biting of lips and gnashing of teeth. There is a restlessness though, a rising fever that isn’t being quenched quickly enough. More is needed. His boy needs more.

“You’re going to top tonight,” says Tony lowly, dragging his teeth across Peter’s hairless, cut jaw. He’s close enough to hear the boy’s breathy gasp. He clams up, going tense, drawing away. When they meet eyes, Peter is already anxious, unsure.

“Why would you want that?” he asks.

Tony frowns. “Why do you like having someone in your ass?”

Peter flushes. “I just—I guess I always thought that the person who. You know. Received—it’s, like, a power thing. People top because they’re stronger.”

“Are you not strong? Do you not want power, Pete?”

“I—I’ve never. I was always the one who. You know.”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Tony assures. He presses his palm flat against the boy’s clothed chest, feeling his heart hammering away. When his thumb brushes the pebbled nipple, Peter shudders, eyes fluttering. “But you have power here. I’d like to show you.”

Peter swallows. “I’ll try.”

Tony blows him first, just to take the edge off. Peter’s stamina, while better than it once was, isn’t legendary. With the taste of cum in his mouth, he kisses his lover, legs spread and Peter propped between them. The amount of lube he slathers on his fingers is overkill, but it makes Tony warm: the innocence, the desire not to hurt his partner. How someone could hurt this sweet creature, Tony will never understand.

The first finger Peter presses inside him, the boy groans like he’s fingering his own ass. It’s been a while for Tony, but Peter’s pace is slow bordering agonizing, thrusting in carefully, catching softly on the rim as he pulls free. Two fingers feel fuller and Tony groans. Could he convince the boy to take him like this, half-prepared so that it might sting? But half the joy is the look on Peter’s face, eyes squeezed shut, mouth slack as he crooks his fingers to rub so gently against Tony’s prostate. When Tony moans, Peter’s entire body shakes, his cock hard and leaking, giving aborted little thrusts against the bed.

“Take me, Pete,” he asks. “I’m ready. How do you want me?”

“I—I don’t know,” Peter whimpers. He’s already gripping the base of his cock, knuckles white, wincing at the ache. Tony strokes his back to let him recover giving him the time he needs. Maybe he should suck him off again—but now he’s getting desperate himself. Let the boy come quickly. That in itself is a turn on.  

Desiring to watch, Tony just presses a pillow underneath his hips to improve the angle, holds his cock and balls in one hand, and lets Peter press forward, the head of his cock nudging Tony’s rim.

“Jesus,” Peter gasps, even though he hasn’t even pressed in. “I can’t do it Tony, I can’t—”

“You can,” Tony says, low and dark. “Fucking look at yourself Peter. So goddamn strong. So powerful. You could pin me to this bed and fuck me half to death if you wanted to, and god do I want you to. You could snap me in half, couldn’t you sweet boy? Take me. Overpower me. You’re strong enough.”

Peter keens. Wet and warmth hits Tony’s hole as the boy’s hand flies down, too late to stop himself and instead wrapping around his shaft to jerk himself off, strings of cum spurting onto Tony’s cock. He watches, half-amused and more than half-aroused. Wiping a hand through the cum, Tony wraps it around himself and fucks into his fist to spill onto his own abs.

“What did I say?” he says afterwards, pressing a kiss to Peter’s embarrassed face. “So powerful. God that was hot.”

“I didn’t even get inside,” mutters Peter.

“We can try again. If you want.”

He feels the boy smile against his chest. “I—think I’d like that.”

-

Justice starts closer to home than Tony thought it might, because on the first page of FRIDAY’s report about Flash Thompson, Tony discovers that Flash’s father works for Stark Industries and has for years. With thousands of employees, it isn’t difficult to fathom that a well-off man growing up in New York city, but it still irks Tony to know that at any time coming and going, Peter might have crossed this man, might have had to remember. Harrison Thompson is a consumer relation’s specialist working in their marketing department. The man looks trepidatious when he enters Tony’s office bright on Monday morning.

Tony can see the resemblance between father and son. He knows a lot about this man too. His record is not nearly as clear of domestic violence charges as his son’s. Abuse is a vicious cycle in which the offended can become the offenders. The seed of violence in Flash was probably cultivated for years before he met Peter—then again, after remembering the graphic images of a battered Mrs. Thompson, Tony can’t deny that Flash’s DNA probably came from the seed of violence.

The man sits, looking like he’s ready for his own execution. “Mr. Stark.”

“Harrison,” Tony greets. “Have we met? Tell me, in all the years that you’ve worked here, have I ever bothered to meet a little pissant like you?”

“Once, sir,” Thompson says, slow. He’s sweating. “We spoke on the phone.”

Tony coos. Inside his top desk drawer is a stack of papers, which he draws out onto his desk. Forging them took no time at all. He must look unhinged, eyes glittering like hellfire is just behind the pupils, grinning the way he is. “What a shame then, that we’ve had to meet under these circumstances.”

-

Everybody is talking about it, Peter texts. Tony is in a meeting when he sees it, but he has no qualms about answering his boy when he should be listening to shareholders complain about the way the media is spinning Stark Industry’s image.

Talking about what, baby?

An employee you fired yesterday.

From 5th floor.

Caught him stealing from me, baby.

Firing him was just the start.

Wait until the police get their hands on him ;)

Tony. You must know.

Know what, my sweet?

Peter doesn’t answer. If he is worried that the boy will be cold to him when he returns to the penthouse for the evening, his worries were for nothing. There is dinner on the table, with candles. Dinner is only half eaten when they end up in the bedroom, and after undressing him, Tony finds that Peter has shaved. Everywhere.

“Wanted to do something nice for you, daddy,” he gasps while Tony rims him, shifts to mouth at his tight balls.

The sweetest boy.

-

Flash himself, Tony never even meets. Tony has maids to take out the trash in his penthouse, custodians to take out trash from Stark Tower, and Bucky to handle the more personal refuse that Tony would rather not dirty his hands with. He has a thing about his hands.

It is handled all through phone calls from his untraceable line. Bucky is one of the only men in the world besides Peter that Tony would admit he likes: the man listens twice as often as he speaks, has incredible loyalty, and also takes initiative. “How bad do you want him?” Bucky asks.

“Use your discretion,” Tony says, feet braced up on his desk. That’s code for let him live, but not easily. Through the glass walls of his office, he sees Peter getting off the elevator, waving cheerfully to the secretary. When they spot each other, the boy blushes softly, and Tony winks. “But I’m sending you a little extra compensation. There’s an additional detail that’s very important to me, and I want to see it come to fruition.”

The others are child’s play. Via anonymous tips, he alerts the IRS about one of the boys’ fraudulent tax returns. The other keeps his nose cleaner, but that is no problem for a man who doesn’t mind playing dirty: Tony empties his bank accounts, trashes his credit score, and sends several fake incriminating messages to his wife. It barely scrapes the surface of what they are owed, but he figures that there will always be time to expand on a solid foundation of misery.

The pictures arrive one after the other an hour after the sun sets on the East Coast. The boy is barely recognizable: face swollen nearly to bursting from the shattered cheekbone and orbital fracture. Bucky’s gloved hand is visible in the last picture, clutching a head of dark hair to pull the boy’s head back so his throat is visible, wreathed in livid bruises. But the dog collar looks good.

Pet Supply, Bucky says. $4.99.

Tony sends him five grand. Then he saves the pictures on a private server that FRIDAY is under orders to destroy should it be breached or should Tony die. He’d delete them altogether but…one day, Peter might want them.

And he would give Peter anything he wanted.

-

“Boss, you’ve received a text from Peter.”

“Read it to me, baby,” says Tony, welding mask on, sweating. FRIDAY’s voice is barely audible over the sound of the blowtorch.

“It’s a news article, sir, from Portland Press Herald, dated this morning. The headline article is titled GMRI Employee Left Paralyzed After Overnight Attack.” Tony turns off the blowtorch. He takes off the mask to reveal his smile. Peter knows how much Tony loves to hear news about himself. “Shall I keep reading, boss?”

“Please do.”  

-

Peter never mentions it, but sometimes Tony catches him staring. The look on his face is one that isn’t easily read. On anyone else, he would expect to see fear, but this boy is finally starting to grow into his own. He is finally starting to see how he should be treated, and the ramifications he—and Tony—can rain down on those who treat him poorly. Instead, Peter looks hungry for him. So, fucking, grateful to him.

“Do you want to try topping again tonight, my sweet?” Tony asks in bed. “Do you want the power?”

Peter plants a hand on his chest and pushes him back into the mattress. Eyes heavy, he is sure the boy will finger him open, thrust desperately inside him to completion. Maybe he won’t even pull out, just rest his cock there until it hardens, and then Peter will take him again. Until he is strong and satisfied.

Instead, Peter throws a leg over Tony’s hips and sinks down on his cock. The look he gives is positively devilish, resting his hands on his thighs while he begins a brutal, perfect rhythm. He smiles, impish, delighted. Bruised apples are soft, riper and all the sweeter in spite of it.

Peter says: “I already have it.”

[blurrypetals]

Queen of Air and Darkness by Cassandra Clare - blurrypetals review

originally posted dec. 9, 2018 - ★★★★★

A-T. L-A-S-T.

I am so absolutely overwhelmed by everything that I've experienced in the last few days while listening to this. As Cassandra Clare's longest book to date, a whole dang fuckin' lot happens in this book. To sort my way through this review, the following paragraphs are gonna be chock full of a whole dang fuckin' lot of untagged spoilers, so continue at your own risk. I do think you're doing yourself a huge disservice if you do read this review before you've read the book, though. It's also incredibly likely I'll drop a spoiler or two on every Shadowhunters book so, if you're here and you have not, for some reason, read The Mortal Instruments, The Infernal Devices, the other two books in The Dark Artifices trilogy, and all of the short stories in The Bane Chronicles, Tales from the Shadowhunter Academy, and Ghosts of the Shadow Market, I implore you to amend that, to go and read those fourteen books and this fifteenth book before reading this review, just in case I ruin anything for you by accident. Okay, now that's out of the way, let's talk about sequels and how to finish a grand, epic fantasy story. It was difficult for me to not compare this book to three other books. The first two are, of course, Cassandra Clare's other finales, City of Heavenly Fire and Clockwork Princess. This handily bowls City of Heavenly Fire straight under the table because, even though City of Heavenly Fire is still a 5-star book, it's the weakest of The Mortal Instruments hexalogy and, other than perhaps The Bane Chronicles, it's also maybe the weakest in The Shadowhunter Chronicles in its current entirety. Clockwork Princess, by contrast, however, is, in my opinion, the best of the entire series. As a finale, Queen of Air and Darkness here sits comfortably as the second best Shadowhunters finale yet. So much happens in this book. It's split into three different parts which could have easily been split into three shorter books with near-perfect three act structures in place for each of them, making this book a nine act book with two "false" climaxes that would have made for quite the cliffhangers if they had been split up for any reason. The first act deals with the aftermath of Livia's death and, because it has a lot of rising action, it's actually a little frustrating in some ways, even if it was frustrating in an incredibly enjoyable way. One of my absolute favorite scenes in the whole book is Julian running to Magnus for help in the middle of the night because it so perfectly mirrors the scene in Clockwork Prince when another blue eyed boy named Will Herondale was at the end of his rope, desperate not to love a girl he was cursed not to be with. I loved the contrast between a Herondale's plea for salvation and a Blackthorn's last hope to avoid damnation, separated by a hundred years yet tied by the same plight and the same warlock's magic. Emotionless-Julian was a really compelling read, even if I was almost as angry and frustrated with him and Magnus as Emma was. I loved to hate how cold and calculating he became without his love and compassion around to guide his moral compass. I hated his betrayal of Emma so fucking much it hurt but I've always loved Julian's ruses, schemes, and plans, and his dealings with the Seelie Queen, the Black Volume, and a skilled calligrapher and wizard called OfficeMax. Damn. So fucking good. Also, speaking of Julian's plans and schemes, his war council and Livia's Watch is one of the most satisfying scenes in The Shadowhunter Chronicles as it currently exists; I'm so proud of my son. He is so great. Hot diggity. Speaking of reminders from past stories, we get the entire cast of The Mortal Instruments during a lot of this book. I was really excited anytime we ran into anyone from The Mortal Instruments, especially the part when Julian and Emma ended up being thrown in the same Unseelie prison as Jace and Clary were and that was Jace and Clary's first appearance in the whole novel. It could have easily gotten overwhelming; I was, in fact, rather worried that Jace and Clary would steal the spotlight for a good spell in the final act of the book, but they didn't, since Emma and Julian were, eh...too big to ignore, and the book even ends with the long-awaited Bane-Lightwood wedding of the centuries, but the story proper closes on Julian and Emma on the beach together. Even though The Wicked Powers is still yet to come, this book felt like a huge culmination of all fourteen of the prior books in a huge way. We had Jem and Tessa from The Infernal Devices, we had Jace, Clary, Simon, Isabelle, Alec, and Magnus from The Mortal Instruments, and we had Emma, the Blackthorns, and all their friends and allies from this series and it felt huge. I also felt the weight of what's to come in a super hardcore manner when it came to Kit and Ty, Dru and Jaime, and, of course, Ash. I genuinely feel as though I can't wait any longer to see how Kit and Ty's stories turn out. I'm especially pleased by the fact that Jem and Tessa decided to adopt Kit and that Kit will have the family he's longed for his whole life and, not only will he have two capable people parenting him through the rest of his adolescence, but he'll also have that younger sibling he's been longing for, someone he can teach and take care of in the way he wasn't when he was small. I really hope at least one of the two forthcoming Ghosts of the Shadow Market stories focuses on Kit and his new life and new home with Jem, Tessa, and hopefully their new precious tiny one. Thoughts of the future of The Shadowhunter Chronicles in Drusilla, Kit, Ty, and, specifically, Ash, bring me back around to the second section of the book, which is the most absolutely bananas thing Cassandra Clare has ever written but is also actually incredibly compelling. I fucking loved the alternate universe stuff, everything to do with the exciting return of not-Jace, the introduction of alterna-Livia, other-Cameron, and living-Raphael (especially the part where he begged Emma and Julian to tell Magnus and Alec to rename Rafael; I was in tears laughing about all of that biz), and the temporary absence of emotionless-Julian and how he and Emma ended up healing so much of their relationship there. I also am so totally down with not-Jace being the main villain of The Wicked Powers, or at least a main villain. I am really impressed with Cassie—which, when am I not, honestly?—in the way that second section of the book was written. It felt like a huge love letter to me as a longtime and dedicated fan of The Shadowhunter Chronicles in general because we got to see these, for lack of a better term, a fanfiction AU turned canon that doesn't read like a fanfiction in the least bit because it remains relevant, interesting, tense, and important the whole way through, even though it's literally a gigantic non-sequitur that some could argue is "pointless." I am not one who would argue that, though, because I loved it so damn much. It gave me what is probably my favorite Emma and Julian scene in all of The Dark Artifices, just after they return to the resistance stronghold. You know the scene. Okay, rapid fire because I could honestly go on forever about this book; I pinned 108 different clips throughout this book, which is the most pins or post-its I've ever put in one single book before. I adored the fact that Simon gave Julian his iron Lord Montgomery figurine before he and Emma left Idris. Michael Wayland's ghost showing up for Robert Lightwood's funeral fucked me up in a super hardcore way and the fact that Kit was the only one who could see him or even sense his presence really got to me and I really teared up because Bitter of Tongue from Tales from the Shadowhunter Academy absolutely wrecked me and this poked at that wound. Everything in regards to Mark, Cristina, and Kieran was incredibly sweet, sex positive, loving, trusting, and healthy and I just...gah they are perfect. A most excellent thruple, one for the ages. A great many of my pins have something to do with Kit growing into his inborn Herondale talent of being a master in snark (think candy gram and "Alas, poor Yorick,"). Everyone in the alternate realm being grossed out by endarkened-Emma's and endarkened-Julian's PDA was hilarious. Julian realizing art requires pain and morality about snapped my sad tiny bird heart clean in half. Feline death on a massive scale. Anytime Jace's more playful, youthful side showed because he's a happy boi now was delightful, especially the parts where he wanted to get to hold the mortal sword and when he declared, "We're the bait!" Magnus hallucinating was great, but my favorite hallucination was when he was flirting with a vase like it was Alec and then very seriously offering to buy it from the Institute. I also loved it when Magnus called Clary "biscuit". It made my heart all soft and nostalgic. Julian's smile at Emma when he got his emotions back tot me emotional, dammit! Caterina meeting Kit for the first time made my heart feel like it was too large for my body. Jace using finger guns, because finger guns are always hilarious. Dru realizing she was looking at the face of a parent when she looked at Julian. Kit responding to being called "Herondale," when Magnus said, "Stay away from my children, Herondale." Emma telling Diana that she showed her the kind of woman she wanted to be. Emma's terrible pun about Manuel being tied up. "Ragnor Lives." An old lady accidentally complimenting Julian on being tall. Emma and Julian deciding to go to the other at the exact same time. Alec would look better on the money. Mark trying (and failing) to make balloon animals and accidentally making them all snakes. That's not even a third of them all. Near the beginning of the review, I said I was having a difficult time avoiding comparing this book to three other books, two of which were past Shadowhunters books. The third book, however, is Kingdom of Ash by Sarah J. Maas, which is another very long final book in a series, one that somehow managed to get voted as the best YA fantasy of 2018 and, because of that slap in the face, I couldn't help but wonder how this book, technically the fifteenth in a series, managed to feel fresh, new, fun, and lovable from minute one to hour thirty of the audiobook even though this is the fifteenth time I've experienced a book in The Shadowhunter Chronicles for the first time and I've never come close to feeling the same sort of apathy or anger as I do for Sarah J. Maas and Throne of Glass. This is how you end a series. This is how you end one part of your series. This is how it's done. Take notes, everyone else. Get on Cassie's level.

[oveliagirlhaditright]

So in your case, are you put off from Sor iku because of the ship wars? And would you have been more open KH multishipping had it not been for that? Or, is Sor iku simply a ship you wouldn't have thought of had the fans not brought it up?

At this point in my life, I feel like an alternate version of me right now could have been shipping S*oRiku some, if the fandom hadn’t ruined it for me.

Though that’s not entirely true. I just feel like this ship would never completely gel with me. And even in said alternate universe, I would still be shipping S*oKai more as my true OTP.

But my issues with S*oRiku are this:

1. While S*ora’s a good enough person to not let what R*iku did to him--in trying to kill him, and all--really bother him or hold it against him... I just personally headcanon that his subconscious mind might cause him to have nightmares about it. Like, his conscious mind is okay with it... but his subconscious mind isn’t. And as an aside, one of the reasons I ship S*oKai--and think it’s good--is because K*airi’s the only person in S*ora’s close circle of friends who has never betrayed him. Some of you may think I’m wrong on this one... and that S*ora’s forgiven R*iku so much, that even his subconscious doesn’t hold onto any of those old feelings. But IDK. Even while forgiving N*aminé, yes, S*ora still told her in that moment he wasn't happy with her messing with his memories. 

2. The goddamn power imbalance drives me bananas, and I don’t think it would be healthy. This was, of course, at its worst in K*HI. But it was improved upon after that... when they both realized they were jealous of each other and wanted to be like each other, and then took a healthy step forward in becoming moreso friends again than rivals (perhaps the friends they once were). So you may be asking, “Why don’t you ship them then, Shanna?” Because D*DD had to bring it back! With R*iku now being a Master over S*ora... and seeing as how N*omura always wants Sora to be a “normal boy”, I don’t see that changing. In K*HIII, R*iku--among everyone else but K*airi--kept teasing him about not being a Master... and while it was all in good fun, you can tell that it really hurt S*ora and shattered his confidence a lot. Maybe not so much the teasing, as the event itself... but still. Maybe not tease your dear friend over a sore spot of theirs every second of every day, guys?

3. I’ve just realized R*iku’s entire redemption arc--which is a huge reason as to why people ship S*oRiku--bothers me and makes little sense, imo. Like, the big takeaway from K*HI, is that R*iku was wrong to side with M*aleficent, kidnap Princesses, want to sacrifice P*inocchio to save K*airi and kill S*ora if he got in his way of saving K*airi... And yet the story’s way of R*iku making up for what he did to S*ora, is to essentially kill more people but for him this time: R*oxas and X*ion. And I know there’s a whole narrative about how our heroes were told N*obodies weren’t supposed to exist/really didn’t exist/were doomed to fade away or back into their original selves, anyway, and R*iku felt he had no choice. But it still bothers me. To me, it gives the unintentional narrative that it’s not okay to kill people for K*airi’s sake, but it is for S*ora’s. It also doesn’t help that, for the most part, R*iku doesn’t see what he did in the D*ays timeline as bad at all--or that he should apologize for it (and he’s yet to): at least not like D*iZ and N*aminé do.

And as a 3.5 of this list... I feel like R*iku became too obsessed with S*ora in his desire to help him/make amends with him, and it really isn’t (or at least wasn’t) healthy. Especially since he didn’t seem to take care of himself at all during that time. Though to be fair... some could maybe argue the same when it comes to S*ora’s obsession with K*airi, and how that’s now gotten him killed twice now... and they may not be wrong. So see? I’m trying to be objective and fair here.

4. And this is a big one for me... I kind of don’t care about S*ora or R*iku without K*airi, so this is probably a big reason as to why I could never really ship them... but explains why I can ship S*oRi*Kai some. All of D*ream D*rop Distance, I got no ship feels like many others would or did, or whatever. No. I just wanted to punch both of them in the face the whole time, for abandoning Kairi. I was so mad! I was like, “How dare you leave your other best friend behind, for no good reason (since you thought there was no danger and she can even somewhat fight now), when you know how much your doing so hurt her last time and you maybe even just made promises against that ever happening again?! Yet here you are! And how dare you take the raft without he?r! And R*iku, what the fuck are you saying, that it was T*erra who made you want to see other worlds when in K*HI you said it was Kairi?! You know what?! Dishonor on all of you! Dishonor on you, dishonor on Sora, dishonor on your cow!” Yeah.

5. This is kind of a minor one... but a lot of people ship S*oRiku in a “and S*ora saves R*iku from his darkness” kind of way. And I’m just- I’m getting sick of this trope in any piece of media anywhere. Because it’s not someone else’s job to save you from your demons. It’s your own. Seriously. Stop trying to put that on so many people/characters. It isn’t fair to them... especially when an act of love so strong as that can often times destroy the giver. Not that I really think it would S*ora--or that this entirely applies to S*oRiku--but I’m just kind of done with the trope as a whole. And a lot of people ship S*oRiku because it’s kind of a light and darkness pairing, and find S*oKai boring because it’s light and light... but tbh? In real life, if given the choice, most people would choose to be with a light person and not be weighed down with a dark one. Because again: it’s not their job to save someone, and expecting that from them really isn’t fair.

6. And I guess this is moreso why I don’t like them in fanon, as opposed to why I don’t like them in canon: I hate how most S*oRiku fanworks that I’ve seen of them, strip away any masculinity that S*ora has--but I’ve also seen their argument, that we S*oKais can make him too masculine. And I could maybe agree with that--and just want him to be a damsel in distress for R*iku to save. I think people who have made posts--about how certain S*oRiku fans need to check themselves... because they hate K*airi, for apparently “always needing to be saved by S*ora”... but then dream of S*ora always being saved by R*iku--aren’t wrong.

And as for if I would have seen any S*oRiku at all in the games without S*oRiku shippers telling me it was there... in the original trilogy (K*HI, C*oM, and K*HII), I don’t see it at all. I know most S*oRiku shippers started seeing it in II... but I don’t. At all). I don’t even really see it in D*ays and B*bS. If anything, I started seeing it in C*oded and D*DD (but at first, I didn’t really see it in C*oded, either; it just seemed long strong/sweet friendship stuff to me--and maybe still don’t as much there as I see it in D*DD--so D*DD’s really the only one I see it in). 0*2 doesn’t have it, in my opinion. And even though people try to argue that K*HIII has it... I think if any S*oRiku fan is being honest with themselves... they can tell that the bromance was toned down in that one, at least compared to recent games, probably because this was when N*omura was first getting news that people shipped S*oRiku... while he was making this game that he wanted to go full S*oKai in. Yeah.

So, to answer your question, at least in this reality... I can never really ship S*oRiku: for the fandom, for things I dislike about it, and the fact that S*oKai will always be my favorite (though I can ship S*oRi*Kai, just not as much as the former). But in an alternate universe where the fandom wasn’t awful... I would probably be shipping it a little; I may have been big enough/strong enough to set the tropes I dislike about it to the side and give them a chance, but I still wouldn’t ship it like I do S*oKai... and I’d get mad at any time K*airi was left out and I felt S*ora and R*iku were being bad friends to her.

[thursday-knight]

Any or all of 4, 8, 17, and 20 for the writing asks!

4. Share a sentence or paragraph from your writing that you’re really proud of (explain why, if you like) So he's sticky, wet and this close to screaming at the crappy, nearly busted and definitely-not-big-enough-for-this-many-dishes sink hidden just underneath the front end of the bar when this tall, rugged and brutally handsome man comes storming in with his deliciously tousled dark brown, nearly black hair and his sinfully gorgeous dark brown eyes and… okay, maybe Cyrris reads a few more romance novels than is probably healthy for one single adult man to consume, but he's been single an awfully long time and this guy, well, this guy— This guy looks like he's just stepped off the cover of one of them. So. You know. Cyrris heart wrenches in his chest as he watches the guy make his way towards him and he can't help but notice the way the music playing through the bar's speakers seems to fit the moment perfectly, with Steve Winwood gently crooning, "You are the reason I've been waiting so long. Somebody holds the key."  It leaves Cyrris with no choice but to grunt because god, he wishes that were true. He wishes that could be true of this man standing in front of him right now. This is a bit from the original novel I'm working on, "Present, Tense". And I just love it's 'cause it's funny and rambling. 

8. Is what you like to write the same as what you like to read? Hmmm... sometimes? Sorta? But I love to read soft fluff but I can't not write angst. Like I always wind up making things at least a little angsty, no matter how hard I try. I do love reading angst too, though. 

  17. Do you think readers perceive your work - or you - differently to you? What do you think would surprise your readers about your writing or your motivations? Ummm... I have no idea. I don't presently really have readers outside of a couple of my friends so I don't know how to answer this question. But as for what my motivations for writing are it usually comes down to one of two things. One is I see something and think, okay, but wouldn't it be cool if? And then an idea happens and a plot follows. The second is usually me working out something I'm struggling with in fiction or doing something I don't think gets enough attention. (Like asexual representation.)

20. Tell us the meta about your writing that you really want to ramble to people about (symbolism you’ve included, character or relationship development that you love, hidden references, callbacks or clues for future scenes?) Hidden references that I love... hmmm.... I love that all the titles in my fic "As certain dark things are to be loved" have the word I in them. (Originally I had planned a four part series to go with this fic that wound up not working out where each fic would use like I/We/You/Them in the chapter titles as like, a thing.) I live for titling things and putting in little references or name schemes or jokes no one will notice but me. It makes me happy. I do fun stuff with all the chapter titles for all my stories. But this gets a bit awkward to talk about because most of the stuff I want to talk about for this question is either fics I’ve taken down to rework them into novels or novel outlines nobody has seen yet. Like every good fic idea I've had aside from the one fic I've mentioned twice now is that it always winds up becoming its own thing. I'm not really very good at fanfiction, honestly. (Note I said not good at fanfic, not not good at writing.) I just wind up starting something, then loving it too much and wanting it to be its own, original thing because I put too much work into the world-building or character development for it not to be. But talking about stuff anyway ‘cause I wanna... I have this wedding planner story I'm doing and all the chapter titles are elements to do with a wedding like, Wedding Planner, Cake, Music, Lights, Dresses and they all relate to the bit of the wedding they’re planning at that moment. And for "Present, Tense" the chapter titles are all lists, like this: one: marbles, socks, keys (things you'd lose) two: food, song lyrics, addresses (things you'd forget) thirteen: heart, brains, courage (things you don't need a wizard for) And that's all because of a joke in ch. 13 where a character goes on about how one character has a busted heart, one is missing a brain, what, does she need to find her courage? (And yes, she does.) So that just sort of became a whole thing based around one joke. 

I really just love doing things in my writing to entertain myself. And then rambling about them in detail. :) And then I sorta also did this one by accident that you didn’t actually ask so here, have a bonus question!

18. Do any of your stories have alternative versions? (plotlines that you abandoned, AUs of your own work, different characterisations?) Tell us about them. Haha, yes. Not intentionally, though. This one fic I've been doing "Upside Down Cupcakes" which is a bakery au started out as a cop/firefighter au. But I changed it after the whole... everything that happened earlier this year with black lives matter and I started learning just how awful the cops are. And then nobody's been reading it so I was just sorta like fuck it, and I keep editing it just for myself? So it has a lot of different versions. It's sort of like how in a university art class I saw this video of this woman who painted this same painting over like 75 times just for herself. And I never understood that until now. Like I keep going in and editing this fic, even when I think it's done I add a new chapter in the middle somewhere or I go in and edit it some more, and I just... sorta like doing it. Like nobody's watching so I'm just sorta... doing a thing for me and that's nice.

[idnek83]

Aid - Chapter 8/13

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Soda Kazuichi/Tanaka Gundham

Tags: Alternate Universe - Island Mode, No Game Spoilers, Masturbation,  Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Semi-Public Sex, Grinding, Wet Dreams, Anal Fingering,  Friends With Benefits,  Getting Together, Internalized Homophobia, Anal Sex

Summary: Everyone is hot and half naked because of their beach vacation. Soda is horny and tries to do something about it. Gundham tries to help and does. It all gets a little out of hand.

Chapter: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13

Read on Ao3

This Chapter: Soda thinks he's ready, but things keep getting in the way: Soda thinks some more, Gundham helps a mother, and Hajime figures out what's going on.

_____________________

Soda laughed for a while longer, half at Hajime and half at the whole stupid situation.

Once he was done, he glanced around to make sure Nagito was well out of ear shot.

“Sooo?” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“What?” Hajime was still blushing.

“Gimme the deats dude! You touch his dick yet?” He flashed Hajime a toothy grin.

“What the hell, Soda? No!” Hajime turned about twice as red as he had been. “I haven’t even told him I’m into him yet, of course I haven’t touched his dick…”

Right. Soda’s smile fell and he felt himself begin to blush as well. That was how these things were supposed to go: feelings first, dicks later.

Wow he was such a fuck up.

“Soda? C’mon man I’m not actually mad. You just surprised me, asking that kind of thing out of nowhere. I get that you were just messing with me, so cheer up.”

“Ha, yeah. I was… just messing around!” Soda forced a nervous laugh and hoped it was believable enough.

He could feel Hajime’s questioning gaze on him, but neither of them said anything.

“So… how’re you gonna tell him?”  Soda kept his eyes on his feet.

“I… don’t know. I might not. I’m still thinking it over.” Soda glanced to the side, Hajime was also staring at his feet.

“Is that really, like, okay? I mean, I dunno, won’t you be sad or whatever if you never tell him?”

“Maybe, but it’s not like I’ll for sure be happy if I do tell him, you know?”

Right. Admitting your feelings wasn’t even supposed to be the hard part. It was what came after…

“You think he’ll reject you?”

“Maybe.” Hajime heaved a deep sigh. “But it’s probably best to just get it over with, right?” Hajime flashed him a smile. “If he does rejects me, though, I expect you to clear your schedule so you can mend my poor broken heart.” Hajime dramatically placed the back of his hand to his forehead and leaned against Soda as he spoke.

“Sure, thing man, just promise you won’t try to rebound with me.” Soda snickered.

“Already told you you’re not my type, dude.”

“Not even when you’re heartbroken and maybe a little drunk?”

“Wow dude, sounds like you’re making plans. Maybe I should go to Chiaki instead…” Hajime pulled away from him with an overexaggerated sigh.

“C’mon man! I was just thinking that’s what people do when they get rejected, right? Have a beer to numb the pain or whatever!” Soda was doing his best to sound upset. “I said I wasn’t into you either man, so don’t be like that.” He looked at Hajime with his best pout.

They shared a look, then laughed at each other.

“But really, Hajime, however things work out, I’ll be right here supporting you the whole time.” Soda gave him a thumbs-up.

“I know, and I’m here for you too, okay? If you ever decide you actually want to tell me what’s going on with you, I’ll be right here.” Hajime smiled and bumped his shoulder against Soda’s, and Soda knew he was telling the truth.

He didn’t cry.

But it was close.

–

They ended up spending most of the day together, just wandering around the islands and chatting with whoever they happened to come across. They didn’t see Gundham.

Soda kept spacing out. Hajime definitely noticed, but just let him think, only really getting his attention when one of their friends approached.

He knew he needed to talk to Gundham, but he still wasn’t sure what to say.

Hey, thanks for all the good sex and stuff, I think I want to ruin it by having weird feelings now, if that’s cool?

Even if he did figure out what to say, he had no idea how Gundham was going to react. Like, obviously Gundham was a pretty nice guy, so he probably wouldn’t hit Soda or anything, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t gonna get mad. They had a good thing going, if Soda tried to wreck it with his stupid gross feelings, he wouldn’t even be able to blame Gundham for being pissed.

Why did he have to go and start feeling things about Gundham? Why did he have to ruin everything?

How much longer could he go without telling Gundham?

It’s probably best to just get it over with.

Stupid Hajime with his stupid wisdom.

Fine. He was going to do it. Next time he got Gundham alone, he was going to sit him down and just talk.

About feelings.

Feelings that he had.

For Gundham.

Feelings like…

Feelings he couldn’t think about for too long. He was just going to scare himself out of talking to Gundham if he did.

He let Hajime guide him around the island while he tried, and failed, not to think of Gundham.

–

Dinner time rolled around before Soda even realized it, and suddenly he found himself being led to the hotel restaurant by Hajime.

He hadn’t even noticed he was hungry, but the second he saw the food spread out before him he was starving. It wasn’t until he had piled his plate high with food and taken his usual seat, with Hajime across from him, that he noticed Gundham had yet to arrive.

Hid heart raced a little faster at the thought of him, but he forced himself to calm down. It wasn’t like they were going to talk about… stuff in front of all their friends, so there was no need for him to be nervous.

He had just about calmed himself down when Gundham walked in and undid all of his hard work with nothing but a glance and a little wave. Soda nodded in return and his heart was back to racing. He was sure he was red, was sure that Hajime noticed and was connecting the dots, and he was sure he couldn’t wait until after dinner to do this. The second Gundham got his food and came to sit down, he was going to ask him to come back to his cabin to talk. Fuck whatever their friends would think about it, he needed to do this.

But Gundham never came to sit down.

Just as suddenly and quietly as he had arrived, he was already leaving.

Soda turned in his seat to call out to him, but he was already gone. He turned back to his food and tried to figure out what had just happened.

“Huh, anyone know where Gundham’s off to so quickly?” Sweet, blessed Hajime. Soda looked to his friend with gratitude, but he just casually sipped his tea and looked to the rest of the table. Soda would die for this man.

“Oh, he’s most likely headed back to the ranch.” Nagito had appeared behind Hajime. He placed a hand on his back before sitting next to him and picking up his utensils. Soda applauded Hajime’s ability to keep his cool, noticing only the slightest tinge of pink on his cheeks.

“The ranch?” Soda spoke up, can’t make Hajime do all the work.

Nagito shifted his unfocused gaze to Soda “Mmm, earlier today I happened to be walking by and saw a horse acting strangely. I thought I told everyone at breakfast this morning, but I suppose you were a bit out of sorts. Forgive me for being so useless.” God this guy was weird, it was obviously Soda’s fault for not listening.

��It’s fine, so… Gundham’s helping the horse then?” If an animal was in trouble, the way Gundham had run out at breakfast would totally make sense.

“Yes, and its foal as well. Apparently, the horse was giving birth and I failed to notice. Gundham helped with the delivery, but, from what a useless piece of trash like me could gather, it seems the foal came early and is quite sickly.”

“You… shouldn’t call yourself that Nagito…” Soda spared a moment to mentally cheer Hajime on before focusing in on what Nagito had said.

So Nagito had announced that he saw a horse being weird at breakfast and that had been why Gundham had left so suddenly with him. Then just now, he had probably just been grabbing something to eat before going back to the ranch, since the baby horse was sick. Well at least Gundham wasn’t pissed at him or something.

Not yet anyways.

Soda sighed. That probably meant he was going to have to wait even longer to talk with Gundham. A stable, which was most likely filled with horse shit, where Gundham was looking after a sick foal? Didn’t really seem like the right place for a feelings talk…

Stupid horse, having a baby early and making Gundham take care of it because he’s such a sweet and caring guy that he would never stand by and let an animal suffer, even if it meant missing out on his own vacation and skipping meals with his friends because Gundham was just selfless like that and an all around amazing guy who-

Soda put his head in his hands. Thinking about what a good guy Gundham was really wasn’t helping him deal with the fact that he was going to have to keep waiting to talk to him.

He finished the rest of his meal in relative silence, only speaking up to do his best as Hajime’s official wingman whenever there was an awkward pause between him and Nagito.

When everyone was finished eating, Hajime stopped him before he could head to his cabin to wallow in peace.

“Thanks for… y’know.” Hajime had a hand on the back of his neck and was blushing slightly

“No problem, just be sure to invite me to the wedding.” Soda gave a half-hearted smirk and some weak finger guns, and Hajime huffed in amusement.

“We’ll see.” They both laughed. “So…” There was a pause. “Gundham.” It wasn’t a question.

“Dude, please don’t.” Soda whined, he knew he had made fun of Hajime that morning, and he 100% deserved to be treated the same way, but he really wasn’t in the mood.

“But I’m right, right?”

“Dude.”

“Fine, but at least admit your taste in men is just as shitty as mine.” Hajime laughed and patted him on the back.

“Fine, sure, we both suck. Can we drop it now?”

“Course dude, just…” Soda looked up at his friend, willing him to just shut up and not make fun of him. “I’m rooting for you, okay?”

“Oh.” Not what he had expected. “Um… thanks. Really. I… thanks.” Hajime just patted his back one more time and headed off to his cabin. Soda let out a deep sigh and glanced in the direction of the ranch, before heading back to his own cabin for the night.

–

The next few days sucked.

Apparently, the mom horse was doing okay, but the baby wasn’t getting much better. Gundham was spending almost all his time at the ranch trying to help, so Soda only ever saw him when he was running in and out of the restaurant to collect his meals. He was jealous of the horse.

Hajime was doing his best to keep Soda occupied, but it wasn’t working too well. Mostly, it was because Nagito had taken to hanging around them, and as happy as Soda to see Hajime get a bit of solid flirting in every now and then, it just made him feel lonelier. He was jealous of Hajime.

On the third day, Mikan let everyone know that the foal’s condition was improving. Apparently, she had been helping out where she could. Even if animals and people were different, some of the basics were still the same, so Gundham had requested her assistance. It made sense, it wasn’t like there was anything Soda could do. But still… He was jealous of Mikan.

The fourth day found them all at the beach, except for Gundham of course, who was still keeping an eye on the foal. Soda half-heartedly participated in whatever games his friends were playing and was a little proud of himself for not creeping on Sonia while he did, but mostly, he just missed Gundham. He watched his friends laughing and splashing around in the water. He was jealous of all of them.

Lying in his bed on the fifth night, Soda didn’t know how much more he could take. He had been ready for his big stupid talk with Gundham five fucking days ago, and he knew he was slowly losing his nerve with each day that passed. The horse had been improving, right? So how much longer would it be before Gundham stopped spending every god damned waking moment at the ranch?

Wait.

Soda glanced at his alarm clock, it was a quarter past midnight.

Perfect.

Soda wouldn’t put it past Gundham to have stayed over night at the ranch those first few days, but now that the foal was doing okay? Gundham had to be sleeping in his cabin, right? So, Soda just had to wake him up and make him listen.

Okay, so maybe it wasn’t actually a perfect plan, but it was good enough. Gundham’s cabin would be plenty private, and, most importantly, Soda wouldn’t have to wait anymore.

He got out of bed and dressed himself; just shorts and a t-shirt, no need to bother with his coveralls this late, before giving himself a once over in the mirror and heading out.

He could feel his heart beating faster. This was it. He was going to make sure Gundham understood exactly how he felt, even if he still wasn’t 100% certain about it himself. No more stupid thoughts getting in his way, no more stupid Nagito pulling Gundham away, and no more stupid sick animals to keep them apart.

This was it.

He raised his hand to knock on Gundham’s door, but before he could actually do it, he heard Gundham call his name.

“Kazuichi…” It was quiet, but Soda definitely heard it. Wow, did Gundham’s weird animal mindreading powers extend to him now too? And what did that say about him? Nah, Gundham had probably just seen him through the window or something. Well, whatever, if Gundham knew he was there he might as well go in.

He opened the door and slipped in, making sure to close it behind him.

“Hey. So I-”

Oh.

As he turned to face Gundham he realized that he had, in fact, not known Soda was there. He had called his name for an entirely different reason.

Gundham was on his back, knees bent, with one hand on his dick and one further down, between his legs.

Oh. Shit.

Gundham’s face was hard to read, but he definitely hadn’t been expecting Soda.

“I-I-I’m so fucking sorry! I’ll leave! I just though I heard- I mean I guess I did hear? But you weren’t- I mean? I’m sorry.” Soda turned to leave, fumbling for the door handle.

“My dear consort…” Gundham’s voice was airy, breathless. It went straight to Soda’s dick.

“Y-yeah?” Soda turned his head back to Gundham and tried his best not to stare at the hand between his legs. Gundham must have noticed. He smiled and slowly began to move his hand.

“Aid me.”

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