#the small but non-negligible difference between “the end is never”

[awkwardtuatara]

So I know the usual interpretation of "the end is never the end is never..." is one of despair and the futility of effort, but I've also been feeling weirdly optimistic about it. Maybe you'll never reach a conclusion to the story you're trying to tell yourself. But you're going to keep telling it anyway; you're going to keep moving, even when the path takes you back to the beginning, because that's just what you have to do. Is there a point? Who knows? Who cares? What matters is that you're still continuing to play. You could quit the game, but there's just a little more to explore, or a little more comfort to be found in routine. There's a little more morbid curiosity left in you to find the answer to What happens next? And although your achievements fade away your mistakes are also reset. You still have more chances - you always will. There are still plenty of runs to be made, things to explore, narratives to follow and bend and destroy. There's no conclusion, but then again, when is there ever one? Life goes on. You just have to follow it as it goes. The end is never the end, because there's always more to do and someone to be, even if it's more of the same.

[doskorogorpg]

CONGRATULATIONS ALEX!

YOU HAVE BEEN ACCEPTED FOR THE ROLE OF IGOR LAZAREV.

Welcome to Do Skorogo RPG! Please make sure you scan over the CHECKLIST, send in your account to the main in the next 24 hours, and follow everyone on the FOLLOW LIST.

IGOR LAZAREV

marlon teixeira — male, bisexual — thirty y.o.

written by alex —— she/them, 22

Timezone and activity level: BRT. Hard to say. 6/7 out of 10, perhaps? I'm always around at night during the weekend and Sundays when I'm free from ✨ adulthood ✨. I might, however, take a day to answer the dms or just a couple of hours. This serves as a warning: it's not that I'm ignoring you, I'm anxious the same. On Saturdays, however, I arrive home later than usual, so it's an only to-go-bed day.

Anything else: I painted a bit of Argun's scenario to explore the social damage caused by mining and exploration and the non-stop cycle of poverty and violence. I hope that it doesn't miss your idea of Drezna's worldbuilding. And I'm sorry I was exhausted when I finished this, so I stopped editing *waves hand * somewhere.

Rambling: Why did I choose him, you ask? *Heavy sigh* Oh, boy. My little self realised on a rainy afternoon that crafting characters was a good way to play and understand how different psyches worked. Big me never abandoned that silly game. Igor is now one of the most challengings characters I have put thought and craft upon. I found strangely endearing how easy yet troubling it was to shape him to explore harsh themes — the nature of violence, the social impact of mining, poverty, abandonment and so much more. He isn't a full plate of possibilities, he is a whole feast. And, yes I could've added more, I still hold sideways notes, but I think 5k words is more than enough.

01.

HEADCANONS

Disclaimer: Child labour, abusive work conditions, addiction, fictional drug, death, violence, recketeering, child negligence, survivor's guilty.

i. if there's something to be gained, there's money to be made. seven new ways that you can eat your young: a biography.

To be born in Argun is by itself a death sentence. You don't dream of ever escaping a life ingurgitated by twelve to sixteen hours of workload, you wait for hamstrung fate to hit you, and — damn — it hits you just fine. You can try, though, to avoid yourself from being spent, choking in the mines and the fabrics, breathing toxic vapour while your kids play with mercury; arsenic under their fingertips. They say that Argun is a bitch who births her youths and sells them to be cannibalised by the rich or butchered by the wars over resources. Wars, those, geared like clockwork by an underground lorded by money laundry, smuggling, drug dealings and extortion. You can try your luck there, exchanging the grime on your hands for blood in your soul. You might end up dead in some alleyway with a bullet between your eyes, that's a risk. In the end, no one cares. You shouldn't either.

The boy is born hungry. It's violence who births him, famine the one to raise him. He bites his tongue from a young age, he yells at the sky and the only answer is an echo. Second of three siblings, their mother is a ghost, their father is a drunkard. They are strangers to Igor, but he loves them the same. Or tries to. Or wants to. Igor doesn't know the difference, he never learns to. He grows up with an absent father who leaves on a winter day, a mother that's always tired, a belly that's always empty and hands that are always clenched, eager to beat another kid who taunts him and his brother in the streets of Argun's periphery. His house is hardly a house. It's a cramped cubicle and a bed he shares with his siblings. They raise each other as kids can. Yura, Igor and baby Mila. They are their own family, their own world, their own parents and their own children; three small bodies curling around the other to battle the bitter cold. Igor is nine when he starts accompanying his mother and brother to the mines, then twelve when she dies coughing blood. There's no money to pay for a healer's services, hardly a penny for a warm meal, and they have to work to keep themselves off the streets. Just children. It makes no difference: you have hands to work, the mines want you. And children are easy to work with. They don't complain because they are too scared of your raised hand, and they aren't clever enough to form a syndicate, are they?

Igor grows eating grime and rage, pursing his lips, biting so hard that it bleeds. But the hand of his brother on his shoulder tells him to calm down. Igor lost his childhood, but Yura never had one. He is tough like stone, but also reactionless. When the men punishes them for working wrong, he bends his head and accepts it like a rock against violent waves. Never bending, but also never moving. Igor, however, burns like new fire. Yura is the first victim to be slaughtered at the altar of Igor's wrath, the first one that Igor calls a weakling coward for not fighting back, for not wanting more than that life. Igor was never much of a son. He was never much of a brother either. It's between constant fighting that they carve their path into teenagerhood, and Mila is caught between the crossfire of her brothers' ego — the counsellor and the destroyer.

But even when he hates Yura, he loves him. For what can Igor be if not a brother — Gorya, as he is called by his siblings — even when he misses every point of it? Can one be blamed for trying? He was. Judged and condemned.

He is barely seventeen when the underground calls him for the first time. He learns about deals being whispered in corners, alleyways and dirty gambling houses. He has the rage they need, and the power as well. Suddenly, the siblings have enough money through Igor. And of course Yura suspects his brother of disappearing and returning with money, missing work days. He wants to know the source, so he presses Gorya against the wall and demands answers. When Igor sends him a big go fuck himself, Yura tells him how tired he is. Igor sees disappointment, but not surprise in his brother's eyes. He hates how much it affects him, how much it condemns him as the worst of the sinners. So he answers him with the only thing he knows: violence. If Yura wants to remain sucking those motherfuckers balls, then fine! He can fucking choke there in the mines. Igor is out of that shit.

And Yura chokes. (Am I my brother's keeper?)

Igor is not far when the mine with his brother collapses, crushing twenty seven workers, including Yura. He remembers the yelling, the cloud of dust, the attempt of digging with bare bare hands. He remembers someone holding him by the shoulders, saying, “it's done, lad. I'm sorry”. He shakes the hands off and takes a step back, staring powerless. Yura is left unburied to rot in the mine and inside Igor. The heavy scent of decadence smells of shame. Grieve would unite some siblings, strengthening bonds between them. For Igor and Mila, Yura's death only tears them asunder. They are children forced into adulthood, and no one ever taught them how to properly grief.

To Igor, he will never regret not being kinder to his brother, because he cannot afford the guilty choking him. So he closes his heart, and doesn't look behind. He promises himself he will not be like his family. He will not be nobody. He swears an oath. He will not die as what he is now, buried under the ashes and dirt of the Argun mines, he will not let it poison and consume him to death like it did to his mother and brother. Instead, he poisons himself with a new thing and calls it power. In some ways, it is an escape, and he knows it, but ignores it. The jurda parem frees him from the feeling of helplessness. He feels attuned, powerful like god, and he begins to crawl. Argun's criminal underground gives him what he needs: money. It doesn't matter to Igor the business — smuggling of resources, extortion or debt collecting. He doesn't ask much either, just how much one is willing to pay. Soon, he is willing to paint houses. See, when he was young he thought that house painters painted houses. Well, they do, but with blood. It's a fancy name, because no matter how into the shit your hands are, you always want fancy names, as fancy as the cologne and the clothes you wear to get into the skirts of your business partner's wife after dinner, to cover the rotten smell of your decaying soul. Call him what you want, though, he doesn't care — but you can use “hired assassin”. That works just fine. They need him to scare their enemies in the mob conflicts regarding the South. People get killed in ugly ways.

Igor is made of storm, one that burns red and consumes. One you cannot stray your attention from. He is an asset, a war dog, and they deal with him like stock. That drags attention, a name one should never get themself involved too, but Igor is so drunk, so high with new-found power, he doesn't even hesitate in scratching the itch. The name is a family. And the family is Lyktin. Because money always speaks louder than whatever is happening around you, and they are still willing to use unstable grisha in their ranks to accomplish the mission, to spill the blood, so it doesn't stain their expensive silk. It is only when Azor burns, and they are too scared of retaliation that they cut ties. 

We begin from here. 

ii. born in the valley of the dead and the wicked.

He left his sister with enough money for the winter, and unspoken words of sibling love never shed. It's funny how brothers will overlook their sisters. In Igor's mind Mila is always the small girl hiding behind him, a child he needs to say: stay close, you don't want to stray away. She grows unnoticed, and noticing this she grows a survivor. Because Igor is not the only Lazarev born with a storm between the ribcage, and the fire that missed Yura forged them both. She, however, refuses to consume her own skin. She grows when Igor is away, missing for days, sometimes weeks, doing whatever the “job” is. Oh, she is not innocent. She knows the money is dirty. Soon, Mila has to bury another brother. First Yura, then Gorya. The young man before her in that chilling afternoon is not her big brother.

He is leaving that hellhole some fucker called Argun, and he wants her to come with him. She asks, For what? This? And she motions him. He is as high as the sky above. She isn't scared. She made up her mind. She'll stay, she'll accept Vihren's marriage proposal, she'll grasp the bit of life she has and knows, the bit of control. Igor argues he can offer her that, but Mila knows this isn't true. So she asks him to leave, never to come back. Because she is tired. She doesn't love Vihren, but he is a rock she can lean on, while Igor is… Igor. And she is Mila. Third daughter. Overlooked. “Do us both a favour, Igor. Leave.” And Igor does. That flicker of consciousness in his eyes understands that, saints, he is the monster under his baby sister's bed. He wants to tell her so many things. But the only love he can give her is a distance between them. The love he offers her is a regret, a begging for an apology never uttered.

iii. miscellaneous.

I'll pinpointing that he started to abuse parem around his nineteen or twenty due proximity to illegal markets existing in Argun, which gives him around a decade of addiction. The fact he is alive is, to me, a miracle, really; especially given how much parem harms the grisha organism.

For Igor, parem is control. He hadn't trained on his Grisha side, and he was forced to hide his identity and not to use Small Science. We know that this makes the individual weak and susceptible, and I suspect that not only physically but mentally as well, which makes him specifically susceptible. The jurda parem offered him understanding by sharpening his perception of the odinakovost and etovost at once. It's almost funny having Igor trying to explain how he understands air pressure and air molecules without knowing the proper terms or the science behind it. Without the parem, the withdrawal symptoms make him almost blind. He is quite unable to make use of his powers without the drug. So he needs parem to access the Small Science. Without it, he is afraid he is nothing. It's a spiral that only decays.

( DISCLAIMER: MENTION OF REAL LIFE DRUGS! ) / My headcanon is that parem works the same way as an opioid and kicks like a stimulant (e.g. Adderall). However, the withdrawal is very similar to heroin. I don't remember if Leigh Bardugo actually mentions that parem causes tolerance, but I'll just assume it does because, well, drugs are like that. ( END! )

He is terrified of dying during withdrawal and he is terrified of not being able to use Small Science without parem. Those are the main reasons he hadn't tried to quit.

You catch small details about Igor's past. His accent is Southern, and he speaks like an Argun worker. His hands are calloused, which implies heavy hand working. Perhaps Sasha offered to tailor it, but Igor refused. He wants to remember something. Other than that, everything is dark to the crew. And if you're clever, you'll leave it like that.

I attempt to expand his fighting style in the Para Semple, but let me just add a few unnecessary notes. Bruised knuckles, broken nose. Igor is talented when it comes to the art of breaking people's bones. It's scary to see him fighting, like watching a hurricane bursting through the door, unstoppable in its way of destruction. Dreadful, for lack of a better word. He is Grisha, afterall, and he knows how to merge his skills in hand-to-hand combat, originating a style that is both swift and brutal. Given that Igor isn't a big fan of flying (haha, jokes on you), it's mostly likely that, under parem, he uses his sharpened air control to make himself lighter and faster (if you read Mistborn, picture Kelsier's fighting style). However, he is also addicted to the pain. Whenever the opportunity comes, he goes bare handed till the person is bleeding, disfigured face, on the floor.

Aslı could take a break from having to mend Igor.

02.

PLOT POINTS

There is a fortune teller. There are three cards on the table. The Fool reversed, The Devil, The Judgment. What it has passed, what it is, and what it's yet to come. He, a sky red with the blood spilled, something not worthy of saving. Do not bury him, let the carrion birds have their share. Sing with the world the tune of relief. The scourge is dead. It was, and is no more.

i. a manifesto on how to domesticate dogs.

“Sir, he's a good dog, and a fair dog; can there be more said?” — William Shakespeare, The Merry Wives of Windsor (Act I, Scene I)

It is wise to say that Igor has been using repression as a coping mechanism his entire life. Boy, youth and man. Most of what he feels and thinks happens out of a conscious mind, to the point he is unaware of himself as a functional person. The only thing he allows himself to show is his anger because it is linked to his survival instincts. Since he has been in survival mode for so long, he only knows anger. Other than that, Igor can be very well compared to a wrathful spectrum haunting the living. However, labelling him as an “angered person” role isn't reducing him to a two-dimensional character. Actually, it's the beginning of his depth.

Igor is such a hard character to deal with, and I find myself carrying a heavy burden of development to be worked upon. First, we have his arrogance. Then we have his hunger for power. At least, we have his addiction. I always start by thinking about “what came first?” the answer? None of those. Fear came first. For what is arrogance if not the response one has to feeling cornered his whole life. Igor, however, is not justified by it. He is someone to be pitied, but never justified. I'll have him regret his sins or I'll throw him straight to hell.

In one of my first drafts, I wrote:

“He is shaped out of contradictions that make him a hypocrite. He is both the knife that stabs and the victim, he doesn't know better and is too blind to see it. He oversees the damage he causes to himself. He is a shell of a person on the inside, but that emptiness doesn't make him numb. On the contrary, it fuels him with anger. He rather channels everything against the world than to admit that he is the one to be guilty. Worse, that he cannot do it. Shifting blame with a closed fist, because Igor cannot acknowledge that he is ashamed of himself, of that little perhaps he crushed long ago that might be true. Perhaps you're just some dumb country boy. He denies this shred of conscience so hard that it doesn't even exist to him. He made himself blind. That's why he hates Aslı so much, because she is there to remember the shame he ignores. And he cannot acknowledge that; acknowledging is to admit that he isn't enough to save himself, and he needs to be enough. He cannot be wrong. He will not be wrong.”

When we start, we have an Igor that never had to deal with other emotions he swept under the rug at a very young age. They are too complicated for a young boy trying to survive in a world out of his control. Grief, shame, regret, all of that is pushed away and locked in the darkness. Easy that way. It doesn't bite him, it doesn't exist to him. In his mind, he has everything under control, because God forsake him to have something out of control in his life. That possibility is his own personal hell. It makes sense when you imagine him as a boy helpless and hopeless. He grasps control, clings to it, and is mad when he cannot have it. So Igor doesn't want power, not truly, he wants control. But it's difficult to draw a line between one and another. Things blurry when you are particularly dense and with a poor emotional intelligence as Igor. He needs to be above to guarantee no one will ever step on him again. So I want to explore this dynamic of power / control and how damaging it is to Igor, especially because it's intimately connected to his abuse of parem. What scares me is what he will do with it. Will he give up this power haunt? Will something change at all? What if it does? What if it doesn't? In the end, I want all of that to be shoved against his face. I want him to acknowledge the helplessness, the hopelessness and how, deep down, he didn't escape any of it.

It's, yes, of my intentions to have Igor going through withdrawal. That, however, would require a lot. I don't take the theme lightly, and I know how difficult it can be in real life. Igor's addiction is tied not only with his hunger for power, but also old fears he never acknowledged, fears that come from his childhood. He spent his early years feeling cornered, helpless and hopeless, and all of sudden he could do something about it. In a way, he had always been scared of death in a sense that you cannot control it. Yura's death affected him at that exact point. Igor saw his mother die, his father leave, his brother die and he couldn't do anything about it. Nothing. He couldn't even convince Mila to stay by his side. Because he was just an Argun's boy. He refused to die like that, simply like that. Igor needs to let it go in order to get better. I think this is the key to his redemption. You see, I enjoy Igor and Anton's connection because I see that in another life Igor would be just like Anton; carefree, eager to live. In this, however, he seeks power because he cannot find control. Perhaps meeting with death the same way Anton met will perhaps help him to get free, to see the world through new eyes. Perhaps. Jurda parem's withdrawal is extremely violent to the point that in the canon saga only Nina survives. There are accounts of people in Drezna who survived? Would Igor be one of them? What would be a Squaller's unnatural power? Hm, we shall see those things if everything goes well.

ii. he who walks a fine line between god and animal.

The Minotaur, the infamy of Crete. When King Minos triumphs over Athens, he demands that Athens youths and maiden to be sacrificed to the monster in the Labyrinth, a place built so no one could escape.

Kyra comparing Igor to the Minotaur was so fucking clever, especially when you understand the mine shafts with the Labyrinth and how they forged both a monster of their own. Because isn't it unfair? Was Minotaur born a monster or created as such? He had a name, he was loved, then he was taken, was denied his humanity and then slayed by an arrogant boy. Who's the monster, Theseus?

I want so bad to work on Igor's relationship with his hometown. Because Igor's hate doesn't start with a person, a class or a king. His hate starts, first, with a place. One he escaped from, but one who never left him. One that beckons him to return. I like to play with the idea that Igor and Argun are a single entity. Igor is Argun's prodigal son. He left home with a self-made oath of never coming back, and he spent himself outside in the world. And even so, the more the time passes, the more he feels this pull of Argun beckoning him. He is Argun personified. They are something to be explored, utilised, then discarded. Someone so used to the grime, the violence, the neglect, and the blood that it grew numb. So if he is supposed to make amends with his past, he needs to go back. The South is calling, baby. 

Simplifying! I am chewing my fingers out in excitement when it comes to the possibility of a Southern rise. And could cry tears of blood when it comes to Sofiya and Igor being so deeply connected to it. My tragic children of the South, doomed by narrative before they're even born. One made by legacy, the other made by circumstances. Let Sofiya raise the South, but let Igor be its monster. The monster of Creta / The monster of Argun. Point the difference!

However, despite assuming the skin of a monster, I want him to do it with control of himself. I want him to find true purpose in a rise, I want him to care about the youth sacrificed in that place like he once was. Perhaps he is both the Minotaur and Theseus. Let him go back like Theseus went inside the Labyrinth: to save the youth from the slaughter. However, let him also be the monster of the elites' nightmares, he is destined to be it both ways. I'll always let Igor's end open because I really think he might end up dead. Both Theseus and the Minotaur are murdered. Why would this boy have a different destiny (*cries*)?

03.

CHARACTER EXPANSION

(01) How far would you go for your crew?

Reaches him when he's halfway to filling his cup: a question shaped by a raspy cadence, marred by both pain and smoking. The man is called Mikhail Voronin, or so he had been told. The woman, sharp-eyed Sofiya, spoke about a big plan without more details, convinced that she could arrange a meeting. That was the reason for Igor to be there, this and the promise of a free drink. The man would be paying, obviously. It has been a pleasant meeting since. As pleasant as men who barely know each other can be while talking business, to say the least. Settled in a gambling house clouded by the pungent scent of cheap nicotine and spilled ale, he could hardly ask for more. “How far, you ask,” Igor echoes, chuckling with a taint of scornfulness. He sets the bottle aside and leans over the same table, resting elbows on the wood and interlocking his fingers. “Well, the filth doesn't scare me, if that's what you're asking. You know my terms,” he says, looking into the man's eyes without fearing the consequences. There is something there under the calm, controlled demeanour. Igor can almost taste the sharp bitterness and burning rage in the way Mikhail gazes back at him. Igor feels a wicked smile creep to the corner of his lips. Good, he thinks. I can work with that. “So, Voronin, do we have a deal?”

(02) What would you do if you got your hands on the circlet? 

He toys with the crude idea. A thought lurking in the back of his head, sweet as the taste of parem lasting heavy on his tongue. He asks it casually to Octavia as they stand on the rooftop in the aftermath of the mission and wait for Mikhail to arrive, but the answer doesn't come. It rarely does. Nastia is nowhere to be seen, so she's stuck with Igor, and the silence lingers. He can feel a bitter laugh. She despises me, he thinks. Good. It means she isn't dumb. He knows what the others would do, or think he does. Destroy, handle it to Mikhail, or hide perhaps if the destruction isn't possible; throw it into the sea. All so eager to dispose of such an asset, and Igor is supposed to be the mad one. He fetches cigarette and lighter from the right pocket of his coat, hands shaking all the way over. And then I'll kill the person who tries to take the crown from me, but that's left unspoken, vanishing like the blown smoke after a long drag. “I have been working for them my entire life,” he answers his own question to Octavia, and it's like talking to a ghost. He can pretend he is speaking to Mila or dead Yura, it would sound the same. “No matter how much they say they sympathise with the Grisha, in the end it's us who do their work, to raise them to the top, to get their revenge. I had enough of this bullshit for a lifetime.” The circlet would put an end to this. No more serving. No more submitting.

04.

PARA SEMPLE

Disclaimer: Description of violence, death.

Guns raised, the henchmen attempted to put him down, for that's what souls do when facing the devil. They meet their fate faster than a calm summer day turns into a midnight of storms, for the things behind Igor's eyes show them no mercy. They shoot, but the bullets are repelled to the side when he forces the air surrounding him to bend. The very world seems to crackle, seethe, shiver under his command. Then it starts. He plays with them like a dog plays with its hunted food, tossing it between the paws until it grows bored enough to finish the prey on clenched jaw, sharp teeth

He finds it amusing. No, not that crude. Not yet. But see, there is something very laughable about touching divinity, about being above, about holding a man's destiny in the flip of a hand.

They had taught him the first lesson every Grisha must learn: to be Grisha is to be like. Like calls like, they said. He was born a Squaller, he heard the storm within his bones from a young age and learned to call the wind like one calls an old friend. He was every bit of those things. He was the wind, and the storm, and the breeze sneaking through the crack of the window. For that, he should be proud. Well, Igor could spit on that. Parem made things clearer. No, he wasn't like the air. He was his ruler. The winds were his and so was the storm. To him the breath belongs, and if he wants to deny it to people, who'll hold him back? No one. When he raises a hand, it moves. When he calls, it obeys. When he says don't, it dares not to provide the men with their precious breath. It is terrified of him.

That is amusing.

The first man dies as quickly as the bullet leaves the gun barrel when Igor pulls the air from his lungs. He hears the sound of ribcage's bones cracking, and it's not pleasant. The second is thrown across the room. Igor pushes the pressure. The air explosion shoves the man in the opposite direction. He hits the glass window and the ground outside the warehouse welcomes him gladly. Then comes the third, and the fourth. In the fifth, Igor grabs him by the arm, twisting it behind the yelping man's back. He wiggles pathetic like a fish, but Igor holds him tightly, using him as a shield when the sixth attempts to shoot him, emptying the poor gun's barrel. Then another air explosion and they topple back, cursing Igor's mom. 

No, she didn't sell her body at night. He is sure of that.

The last man tries to crawl away for his dear life. Igor sniffs, clenches his wrecked fists, and goes after him. He almost feels pity. Even the devil agrees that one should die on their feet, but there is no time for pleasantries. The order had been clear: no witnesses. The money was good. No questions. The whole place smells of butchering. It's something that sticks to the nostrils. Something you get used to. Something that adorns every dream, every nightmare. He presses his foot against his ribs and flips him up, forcing him to face up, then he sees his face.

The eyes that glance up at him are too young, almost childish, twisted with a fear that cuts through Igor. He freezes, the air stills with him. Suddenly, he hears his heart thrumming in his ear. The boy moves his hands, and Igor can smell grisha in him. Training heartrender, perhaps. Too scared of the killing to even concentrate. Yes. But, no, he never related. Instead, he grabs the boy by the collar and pulls him, pressing him against the wall where he looks into his eyes. “How old are you, boy?” He is too frightened to do anything but, maybe, piss himself. Igor doesn't have time. He slams his hand on the wall, too close to the boy's head. He winces, shutting eyes, pursing lips. “Answer the damn question!” 

“Sixteen!” he yells against Igor's face.

Parem is a shroud swaddled around the mind that doesn't numb the thoughts, but it takes away attention from the small details that don't matter. The answer washes him like winds sweeps smoke, and suddenly he is aware. “Sixteen…”

You're not supposed to be here.

But he is. Because money always speaks. Louder than beating parents and the rumbling of the little brothers' empty stomachs. Louder than anything. And they are stock in this world. To those who can pay.

The boy says no other word, nor does Igor. They stare at each other and Igor sees before him a mirror. In the end, it's the boy who asks with trembling lips. “Are you going to kill me?”

The order had been clear.

05.

EXTRAS

pinterest / playlist

“You will always be a monster - there is no turning back from it. But what kind of monster you become is entirely up to you.” — Julie Kagawa, The Eternity Cure (Blood of Eden)

“It will have blood, they say: blood will have blood.” — William Shakespeare, Macbeth (Act III, Scene IV)

“Violence is the divine force that everyone tries to use for his own purposes and that ends by using everyone for its own—the Dionysus of The Bacchae.” — René Girard, Violence and the Sacred

“He is a weapon, a killer. Do not forget it. You can use a spear as a walking stick, but that will not change its nature. — Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles

“Perplexed is a soft word, charming. A dog turning its head to the side when it doesn’t understand what you mean when you say I love you. I was perplexed, and by this I mean I was stuck in the space between terror and awe. I wasn’t confused; I wasn’t weighing the options. I was startled by the incomprehensible—” — Richard Siken, On Perplexity: Chrysanthemum

SAWYER (LOST) — Yea, it's the “I'm sorry you had a bad childhood, but you kind suck right now. Please, put your shit together and act decent”. Also this. Sawyer, despite his false confidence, is full of self-loathing and has problems connecting to people. Guess who is the same?

KELSIER (MISTBORN) — Igor doesn't have Kelsier's wits, but he has Kelsier's violence. Both are also very impulsive idiots with power and will to kill god. It's also the older brother (Yura/Marsh) who strongly disagrees with the younger brother's (Igor/Kelsier), uh, ruthlessness.

JAIME LANNISTER (ASOIAF) — I don't remember if that's actually something stated in the book or just one headcanon of mine bc I read ASOIAF a long time ago, but Jaime Lannister ain't kind smart, but dude can and will kill. This match with Igor. Awkward silence. Yes, yes, and the redemption arc! Bah! Besides, both view themselves as a “necessary evil”. 

VI (ARCANE) — Fists. Just fists. You can't take both down, they'll always rise up to kick your ass. They also have this rage since a young age, a calling for violence. Vi, however, grows to be a protector and a defender — she bleeds so you don't have to. Perhaps, only perhaps, Igor will grow to be one as well. Also the “too hungry/angry to be polite” trope.

What are you? a knife.

What kind of weather are you? a storm.

Let me fucking destroy you by giving you a reality check. you're an asshole who prides themself for it and it's not okay.

How would I write you as a book character? the side character that is very dear to the narrator but doesn't know it.

What's your literary archetype? the siren.And this.

[vrishchikawrites]

Could I have a prompt? 🥺🥺 So WWX is taking bath in the Cold Pond to heal from the wounds by the discipline paddle (which I assume he was punished being clothed in his Black robe or in his Gusu Lan disciple robes or Head disciple Jiangs robes whichever fits). Before going to CR, wwx is whipped by mdm yu and LWJ notices wwx’s raw red scars and many scars across his back kinda overlapping and not yet being healed because maybe MDM yu sealed his core or something. LWJ, or with LXC saw WWX’s many crisscrossing scars and realize they’re still raw and kinda risking for infection because when mdm yu unseals his spiritual energy before going to CR, WWX never thought of healing it. Cue LWJ and LXC gets horrified and ask WWX why he had many scars on his back (or other parts of his body can also be included!) no pressure 💕 I love your writing! ❤️❤️

Anyway, it is set during the period in which WWX studies at CR. Lån Qiren, who is obviously not eyeing Wei Wuxian just in case the boy creates some trouble ends up realizing that he is too non chalant about  not eating (because the food there is for rabbits) and WWX is like "Oh, yeah. Nah its fine, I've been worse".

This one has trigger warnings for child abuse, negligence, and issues related to eating habits. Keep that in mind before proceeding. Nothing graphic, but I wanted to warn nonetheless.

I've merged two prompts here.

Please remember that prompts are closed. Also, remember I do not write self-deprication. All prompts that require WWX to have low self-esteem are not going to be written, apologies but the subject is very uncomfortable for me and I don't believe it is canon accurate anyways.

On to the prompt fill.

"That Wei child is entirely too careless." 

Lan Qiren closes his eyes and prays for patience. That boy has been a menace ever since he stepped into Cloud Recesses. Brilliant but wily and mischievous with absolutely no regard for rules. 

"What has he done?" He asks gruffly, reading over the reports from the kitchen staff. Cloud Recesses always monitors the food intake of their guests to make sure everyone is well-fed and no one is consuming more than their due. It wouldn't do for young cultivators to fall ill in their care, after all. 

The primary healer, a matron of some age, had brought the reports instead of the kitchen manager, which was quite unusual, "He forgets meals. Goes without food for days. Survives on small bits of fruit."

Xichen, who has been working on his own reports, raises his head and looks concerned. 

Lan Qiren crosses his arms, feeling a growing sense of ire, "He dislikes our meals." He's not the first one to skip meals because he considers them 'bland' and 'boring'. It's likely the child has been sneaking down to Caiyi town to have more extravagant meals. 

"I checked with our ward team. When he goes days without eating, he doesn't make any trips to Caiyi town either."

Lan Qiren pauses and studies her. Lan Mingyun nods curtly, "When I first noticed this behavior, I immediately put him on my list." Her list of children with food-related issues, he assumes, "His eating habits are very erratic, erratic enough that I wish to assign one of our senior disciples to keep an eye on him."

"You're that worried?" Lan Xichen asks in surprise while Lan Qiren frowns. It isn't unusual to do so but he wonders if it is really necessary.

"As far as I know, the child lived on the streets for quite a few years," She says and Lan Qiren narrows his eyes, inwardly reprimanding himself. He had forgotten about that aspect of Wei Wuxian's history, "The link between early childhood trauma and behavioural problems are well known to us."

Lan Xichen frowns, "I'll ask Wangji to keep an eye on him."

He glances at his nephew sharply, "Why Wangji?" He demands because surely someone else would be better.

"From what I understand, Wei-gongzi will not welcome an assigned senior. He seems to be someone who brushes injuries or illnesses off. He likes Wangji and will be more willing to accept his company."

While the argument is reasonable, Lan Qiren is loath to involve his precious nephew in this. He's already so bothered by the boy. 

But.

He thinks of Wei Wuxian with his sharp eyes and lingering smile and nods. 

---

Wangji listens to Xichen patiently even as his fingers curl into fists under his sleeves. 

He doesn't like Wei Wuxian. The boy is too disruptive, too bold, too distracting-

Too beautiful.

He doesn't like him, but that doesn't mean he's content to ignore his well-being. When Xichen asks him to keep an eye on Wei Ying's eating habits and general behavior, Wangji agrees. 

It will be taxing for him, but he agrees.  

What he doesn't anticipate is… everything that follows. When he starts consciously looking for them, the signs are alarming. Wei Ying doesn't just skip meals whenever he gets too distracted, he picks at the food even when he is eating. While Wangji is comforted to know the boy frequently seeks something richly flavored at Caiyi Town, he doesn't do it often enough to compensate.

There are also some concerning behaviors in the Jiang contingent. Upon closer inspection, it is clear that while Wei Ying does break the rules, the other Jiang Sect disciples are often complicit. Including Jiang Wanyin. 

They not only let their da-shixiong take the blame for all of their actions, but also encourage it. Wei Ying seems disconcertingly accustomed to it. He makes a scene while being punished but seems alright within an hour. 

Jiang Wanyin encourages mischief and reprimands him in turns. 

Wangji doesn't understand this.

"Xiongzhang, I am concerned," Xichen looks up from his tea, his attention immediately on Wangji, unwavering and comforting, "Wei Ying," He takes a moment to form his thoughts, "I am uncertain. I believe he is in an unsafe environment."

Xichen sets his tea aside, "How so?"

"I happened upon a conversation," He grimaces because it is eavesdropping even if his intentions are noble, "Jiang Wanyin and Nie Huaisang requested and encouraged him to get alcohol into Cloud Recesses. When he complained about the punishment, Jiang Wanyin said 'at least, it wasn't Zidian'."

His brother sucks in a sharp breath, "Zidian? Madam Yu? Spiritual weapon? A high-grade weapon typically used against enemies?"

Wangji dips his head. 

"I'll ask uncle to stop assigning corporal punishments." Lan Xichen says, "They won't have the desired effect in any case and we don't want to damage him permanently. Tomorrow, ask him to practice Cultivation in the Cold Pond as punishment."

Wangji nods, "I'll assign Jiang Wanyin and Nie Huaisang proper punishment as well."

"Wait until we have a better grasp on the situation." Xichen says solemnly, "If we act too quickly, things will escalate and may cause more harm to Wei-gongzi."

Wangji is reluctant because his sense of justice is not satisfied. He remembers how the Jiang disciples encouraged Wei Ying to accept punishment on their behalf. And then to know Jiang Wanyin was also complicit…

"We must approach this cautiously, Wangji."

He nods.

---

Red, irritated, scarred.

Wangji swallows as he sees the state of Wei Ying's back as the Jiang disciple steps into the Cold Pond. There are so many whip scars on his back, so many that have barely begun to heal, that he feels nauseous. 

"Wei Ying," He struggles to keep his tone neutral, "Your back." He cannot imagine the agony that Wei Ying would've suffered when he took more punishment on it the other day. 

Wei Ying glances at him and grins, "Aiya, Lan Zhan, is that concern I see on your pretty face?" He asks, spinning around eagerly, "Concern for little old me?"

His back is out of sight and the way Wei Wuxian is leaning towards him is meant to distract and fluster.

Wangji… suddenly understands. Wei Ying is naturally playful and mischievous, but he uses his personality for disguise and manipulation as well. Not maliciously, but in a way that harms him.

"Wei Ying," Wangji refuses to be moved. There is a significant shift in his mind. He no longer feels annoyed by the person before him. If anything, he feels furious. 

He feels protective.

"Wei Ying, your back."

The Jiang disciple shrugs, "Punishment, you know how it is." 

"For what?" He demands, catching Wei Ying's elbow and turning him around. The willingness to touch him stuns Wei Ying momentarily, enough for Wangji to get a good look at the brutal devastation written on Wei Ying's back. 

Wei Ying clears his throat and shrugs, "It's more of a preemptive punishment? Madam Yu knew I would cause trouble here, of course." He chuckles.

"Preemptive punishment?" He asks softly, the very notion troubling him. 

Wei Ying shrugs again but doesn't attempt to explain when it is clear Wangji isn't willing to indulge him.

"Wei Ying,"

"Lan Zhan," Wei Ying starts to move towards the shore, "Don't worry about things that don't concern you. Your head will forever be burdened if you do."

Wangji feels something in him recoil at such a blunt dismissal. 

"Doesn't concern me? How can it not concern me?" He wants to ask but is unable to. 

Wei Ying has made him very uncomfortable with his forward personality and near constant teasing, but Wangji has seen the genuine offer of friendship underneath it all. 

He has always spurned it. 

As Wei Ying climbs onto the shore, his wounds red against his naturally pale skin, Wangji makes a decision, "Would you not feel concerned if it were me?" He asks but he already knows the answer.

He already knows this man enough.

"Of course," Wei Ying says and shrugs on his robes, hiding a wince but unable to help his body's reaction to pain, "But you and I are different." He glances over his shoulder at Wangji, "I consider you my friend," He says, "But you don't consider me yours."

His breath stills at the acceptance in Wei Ying's tone.

"And that's alright." The Jiang disciple waves and walks away, "Don't worry too much, Lan Zhan. This one isn't weak. The wounds will heal within a few days."

---

"The facts are these - Wei-gongzi is punished preemptively with Zidian, often enough that there are deep scars on his back," Lan Xichen explains, "I assume it is his Golden Core keeping him from sustaining permanent damage."

Lan Qiren is still bristling at the very thought of preemptive punishment. What a ridiculous notion! Of course, the child doesn't care about rules and upsetting people! He has already been punished enough to excuse everything but outright treason.  

How is such a method effective? How does it correct a child's misbehavior? 

"The Jiang Sect disciples are accustomed to their da-shixiong being punished in their stead. They actively encourage it. Jiang Wanyin has asked Wei-gongzi to sneak in alcohol. And he refused to come forward when Wei-gongzi was punished." Xichen takes a deep breath, "I believe any lingering issues he may have because of his early days as a street orphan-"

"Are ignored," Lan Qiren concludes grimly, "It is no wonder the child has such strong cultivation. He is facing strife constantly."

"Is there a way to rescue him?" Wangji asks after being grimly silent for the entire meeting, "Get him away from the Jiang Sect?"

Lan Qiren eyes him, "Wangji, the situation is complicated. He's still the Jiang Head Disciple and sects don't just part with their high ranking disciples."

Xichen smiles sympathetically, "We'll find a way to pressure Jiang-zongzhu into taking action. He'll lose face if the other Sects know how his lady is treating their Head Disciple." He shakes his head at Wangji's expression, "Let us think about it. Meanwhile, you just need to be there for your friend, Wangji."

Lan Qiren arches a brow, "Friend? Wangji, I thought you disliked the boy."

Wangji purses his lips, a stubborn light entering his eyes, "Wei Ying is my friend." He insists, resolve lining his every word. 

He looks at Xichen, who just looked amused, "According to Wei-gongzi, he considers Wangji a friend and will be very concerned if Wangji was in a similar situation," He huffs, "But Wangji doesn't consider Wei-gongzi his friend, so there's no need for Wangji to worry."

Lan Qiren closes his eyes and rubs his forehead in an uncharacteristic display of frustration, "That boy is a singular menace."

---

Wangji pursues friendship with all the dedication in his being. He learns to cook savory dishes and gives them to Wei Ying every day. Wei Ying, unable and utterly unwilling to deny, eats it all. 

He glares the Jiang disciples into submission whenever they attempt to draw Wei Ying into mischief. The Jiang Head Disciple is fully exempt from corporal punishment. Instead, he spends hours in the library either copying rules, rewriting classics, or transcribing Buddhist texts. 

All of these activities prove to be much more effective punishments.

Meanwhile, Lan Qiren attends a Discussion Conference and has word with Jiang Fengmian. 

The response is a gentle order from the Jiang-zongzhu for Wei Ying. He asks his disciple to remain in Cloud Recesses for Musical Cultivation training. He also mentions it is time for Jiang Wanyin to take up Head Disciple responsibilities and learn true leadership. 

Wei Ying eyes the smiling Lan Xichen and impassive Lan Qiren sharply but doesn't say anything.

In two years time, the distance between Wei Ying and the Jiang Sect grows. The distance between Wei Ying and Lan Zhan ceases to exist. 

Just like that, Wei Wuxian's destiny changes.

[doloresdraws]

| time-lapse of the painting on my youtube |

❤ I wrote these for Twitter, but decided to post them here as well ❤

Werner Adler, Nosferatu residing in San Francisco, Embraced in 1970 in his mid 30s.

1. Werner is pretty chill most of the time, more than angry he gets frustrated from not being satisfied with his writing or when he says something that makes complete sense, yet the other person still fails to acknowledge it, especially when it is about something important.

2. I think he never believed in soulmates, until he met Leslie. Now when she is gone, a part of him is gone too.

3. His pet peeves: When people call themselves stupid or speak about themselves in a degrading way, especially women and children. Also when he sees grammar mistakes like they're/their, etc.

4. Unfortunately, what used to be his happy place now brings him a lot of pain, so he rarely allows his thoughts to venture there. When Leslie was still alive and he thought she was living a happy, fulfilled life somewhere, he often thought about their life together.

5. He has suffered from depression since his teens, but his happiest time was when Leslie said yes to his clumsy proposal, they got married and were planning their future together. Despite his coming and going depression and some bad days, she made him very happy.

6. His least happy time: Finding out that Leslie was dead, running to the hospital morgue and seeing and holding her lifeless body in his arms.

7. I think he is neither. He would sit at the bar minding his own business.

8. As a mortal, he never had any serious physical injuries (mainly because he was at home most of the time) As a vampire he got his wrist broken by the Gangrel who had found him after the Embrace, Werner didn't understand anything and wanted to just run away.

9. He doesn't really remember his Embrace as he was passed out sleeping, so the Embrace itself isn't a traumatic experience for him. There is a lot he would rather forget during his Kindred existence, but nothing tops his desperate attempt of Embracing Leslie's dead body.

10. His childhood wasn't exactly filled with many good memories. His parents argued a lot and it ended up in divorce that left him living with his quite overprotective mother. His fav memory would probably be time he spent hanging out with his best friend, a neighbor kid Mike.

11. Honestly, no, he doesn't have a type. He was seriously in love only with Leslie. They had a connection right away as she as an artist understood his need to be sometimes left alone with his writing and at the same time possessed quite a different, more positive outlook in life.

12. A pen that he bought from his first salary. Lucky for him, he was able to keep it even after his Embrace. Also his and Leslie's wedding rings and her journal that he stole after sneaking into her husband's hotel room and going through her things.

13. +14. No tattoos or piercings, even if he wasn't a Kindred/Nosferatu he wouldn't even consider it. He is quite old school, he doesn't really like them.

15. He had his dream house already. Not long before he got Embraced, he and Leslie had bought a house in a small town in Maine. It wasn't much, but they had so many plans for the garden and for the kid's rooms.

16. I think others, especially Kindred of other clans wouldn't probably expect him to be so well-mannered, gentle and well-spoken considering his dishevelled, unclean looks. He just sees no point in showering or caring for his look when he isn't really socializing with anyone anyway.

17. He is very thoughtful when it comes to gifts. He is that kind of person that would give you a present out of the blue, just because he would see something that he thinks you would enjoy.

18. He has a love-hate relationship with his writing. Some days he thinks he is really good at capturing the right mood with his words, other days he is questioning his writing skills and if he should even continue. He isn't proud of anything that he does, unfortunately.

19. A stranger would probably describe him as a sad man who desperately needs a bath and new clothes.

20. A close friend (Kayley) would describe him as kind & caring, but broken man who is trying his best and tries to do the right things.

21. He actually isn't concerned about his looks at all, he didn't care much about his looks even when he looked normal. His biggest insecurity is fear that somehow deep inside he is a bad person and that he somehow deserves what happened.

22. Physical: dexterity, non-physical: Intelligence.

23. If he knew that the lie was for his own good, he would actually appreciate the thought. If it was a lie to spare him from fear (I am looking at you Kayley) he would get upset at the sheer irresponsibility and the harm that could have happened and you would be in for a lecture.

24. He doesn't care much for the weather when he's spending most of his nights alone in his sewer haven, but he finds rainy nights inspiring and accurate to his own feelings of despair. He sometimes goes to the cemetery when it pours, stands in the rain and allows himself to cry.

25. He has no problems saying I love you to the people that he cares about when it feels right and appropriate to the situation. Though he usually never says it first, but more as a response :)

26. He doesn't like to talk about his worries - like when he was a mortal he really didn't like to talk about his fear of not having enough skill to make it as a writer, as he felt like he was failing Leslie to not make enough money for them to be able to raise a family.

27. He murdered a man that was a threat to Kayley and Jane. He really thought that there wasn't another way, but he sent the children away while he did it, so they didn't have to see. He was on the verge of frenzy and part of him could justify the murder as the man was a scumbag.

28. He isn't ticklish, but he would probably try to stop you tickling him anyway.

29. As a mortal, he had pretty low pain tolerance, but as a Nosferatu and after Leslie's death he realized that any amount of physical pain was nothing compared to the crippling pain and guilt that he feels inside everytime his mind slips and he thinks about what happened.

30. He wishes he had the courage to walk up to Kyle (Leslie's then husband) and tell him that he was sorry, that he was weak, selfish and negligent and that it was his fault that Kyle lost his wife and his unborn child. But of course, he never did it, and now Kyle is an old man.

31. Messy: feeding is a very stressful ordeal for him, he only feeds on the homeless men from his herd and he gives them money for it. It's always a terrible time for him, it takes him a while to actually bite down and then he wants to be done with it as soon as possible.

32. When 14 yo Kayley made him bite her after she found out the truth about what he was and she wanted a proof that it didn’t hurt when he fed on people, despite him reassuring her it didn’t. He was deeply hurt by this request, but he forgave her, he realized she was just a curious child, she didn't know how much pain this was causing him.

33. When Leslie found him and despite seeing how he changed, she still told him she loved him and was willing to stay with him. And maybe even more when they had met a few years later and despite the time, he could still see love for him in her eyes like nothing had changed…

34. Hard choice between vision & touch. Both would hinder his ability to write and that is that is the only thing that keeps him somehow sane. Well, together with caring for Kayley, but as she is growing older it is better she sees less of him and has a normal life.

35. He can hold on small talks pretty well,it's actually the only kind of talk he is willing to have with other Kindred after Leslie's death. Mirabelle especially noticed the change in his behavior, but she understands that they weren't really friends and she has no right to pry.

36. He would ask Leslie if she can forgive him for what happened to her and her unborn child. But the truth also is that he is absolutely terrified at the idea as he fears that the truth is that wherever she is, she hates him.

37. The past-so he would have never traveled to San Francisco, or at least he would have traveled to the night when Leslie came to him and this time he would be stronger and pushed her away, not letting her touch him... The future is pointless, there is nothing left there for him.

38. Positive - Leslie made him feel understood, Kayley - gave him some will to live back, Jane - made him feel like he made a difference in her life by persuading her to own her mistakes.

Negative - His Sire who made him question why he deserved this fate for his kindness.

39. He was used to live alone, then he met Leslie and then he was alone again. He was always a solitary person, so the solitude and isolation actually didn't even bother him after the Embrace.

40. The worst had already happened to him, so for a time there wasn't really anything that would make him terrified. But then he met Kayley and of course he fears for her safety as he feels responsible for her. He's afraid that her compassion will one day cost her her life.

Werner © me/doloresdraws

[ejzah]

Can you do a fanfic where Kensi is forced to work together with an old NCIS rival and she is furthered annoyed when she begins making moves on Deeks despite them being married.

“Did Hetty say who we’re meeting?” Deeks asked as he and Kensi walked into a five star hotel. They were supposed to meet Hetty, along with some other agent who they would be working with on an undercover case. Deeks would be going under as a high stakes lawyer, while Kensi played his assistant.

She knew he was looking forward to this case. It wasn’t supposed to be terribly dangerous and they would spend the majority of the time together. All while staying in a $700 a night hotel.

“No, but she said she’s in high demand at several agencies,” Kensi answered as they took an elevator to suite 317. She glanced over at Deeks; he wore a black suit with a light blue shirt and a black tie. Hetty had certainly outdone herself this time. Kensi let her eyes drift down to his impeccably tailored trousers, which clung to his legs. “Your tie’s crooked.”

He turned, giving her better access and she straightened it, letting her fingers linger at his collar. “Mm, much better,” she murmured.

“Sugar Bear, if you keep looking at me like that, our new colleague is going to figure out why no one wants to share a room with us,” he said, grinning shamelessly at her. He was doing his own share of ogling.

“That would be very unprofessional, Mr. Deeks. Especially since I’m your employee.” Kensi shot him a coy look, wondering if she could convince Hetty to loan them their outfits after the case was over.

Deeks wiggled his eyebrows at her while he stuck the keycard Hetty gave them in the locking mechanism to room 317. He gave a perfunctory knock before opening the door.

Hetty was sitting in a small living room across from another woman who had her back to them. All Kensi could see was the leg of a charcoal gray pant leg and red hair. Hetty waved them in and stood.

“Ah, I’m glad you’re here,” she said, gesturing for the other agent to stand. “Special Agent Mallory Weaver, this is Detective Marty Deeks and-“

“Kensi Blye,” she interrupted as Kensi smiled tightly, recognizing the other woman as well.

“You know each other?” Deeks asked.

“Oh we go way back,” Mallory said. “Kensi and I attended FLETC together. We were always neck and neck, weren’t we?” She tilted her head slightly, looking Kensi up and down in a way that made her feel distinctly uncomfortable.

The Mallory Kensi remembered had blonde hair and spent 80% of her time in agency provided workout gear. Despite the differences in appearance, she still carried herself with the same aloofness and self-assuredness Kensi remembered. She was also impeccably dressed; her blazer and pants didn’t have a single crease and would have passed even Hetty’s stringent expectations.

“We might have been a little competitive,” Kensi acknowledged. “But that was a long time ago.”

“Yes, it was.” She turned to Deeks then, her expression calculating. “Did Hetty say you were a detective?”

“Yeah, I’m the team’s LAPD liaison,” he replied, reaching to shake her hand. “Nice to me you, Agent Weaver.”

“And a former lawyer,” Hetty added, bringing the introductions to an end. “Which is why he is perfect for this operation.”

“Well, then let me catch you up on the what our goal is for today,” Mallory said, taking charge.

***

“So, how long have you and Deeks been working together?” Mallory asked as they prepared the technology they’d be using for the operation. Hetty had left a few minutes before and Deeks was in the master bedroom making a call.

“Over 10 years,” Kensi answered, a little surprised that Mallory was showing an interest. From past experience, she tended to be singled minded.

“Wow, that’s quite a commitment.” They were silent for another minute and then she asked, “Is he in a relationship? I don’t usually prefer men with long hair, but the way he fills out a suit...I’m willing to look past it.”

“Actually, he’s married.” Kensi only imagine Deeks’ expression if he knew Mallory was interested in him.

“Really? I didn’t see a ring. Maybe he’s not as committed as you think.” Mallory smirked at that and Kensi felt her annoyance rising.

“We don’t wear our rings on the job,” Kensi said, emphasizing the word “our”. Just in case she missed the hint, Kensi gave her a pointed look.

Mallory raised her perfect eyebrows and then laughed incredulously.

“You and Deeks are married?” she asked, with an insulting amount of disbelief. “Wow, I did not see that coming. I remember you were the girl who couldn’t make it past one date with a guy.”

“Well, like we said, that was a long time ago. I’m sure we’re both very different women than we were back then.”

“That seems pretty obvious. I always imagined you doing more with yourself than this, but I guess some people are willing to settle.”

Kensi held back a nasty comment, knowing it would only encourage Mallory.

***

“Marty, what made you switch from lawyer to cop?” Kensi heard Mallory asking Deeks as she came out of one of the massive suites.

“I was working as a public defender and got sick of watching criminals go free,” Deeks explained, shrugging self-deprecatingly. “And then a few years later, Hetty snapped me up.”

Kensi walked into the room, quietly gathering a comm device she would need later when they met their contact. Deeks was reviewing the details of the fake portfolio Eric and Nell had set up for him. He’d pushed the couch and armchairs in the living room to the side and moved the small dining table to the middle of the room. Mallory say next to him, peering over his shoulder, a little closer than Kensi would have liked.

“Yes, as LAPD Liaison.” Somehow Mallory managed to make it sound laughable. “You should consider joining my team.” From her peripheral vision, Kensi saw her touch Deeks’ arm, lingering on his bicep.

“I didn’t realize you had a team.” It was a non-committal statement, neither expressing interest or a direct refusal. Mallory made a negligent sound.

“Oh, I’ve been toying with the idea of forming one. We should talk about it over dinner sometime,” she continued. She leaned closer, adding, “I know this fantastic place that makes the most delicious tiramisu.”

“Well, that sounds lovely,” Deeks said. “But I’m pretty busy.”

“You should take some time off. Everyone needs a break.” Kensi watched her hand drop to his thigh and squeeze. “You could even stay at my condo on the beach.” Deeks made a sound that was something between a cough and a laugh.

Unable to take it any longer, Kensi turned around and headed back into the the bedroom. There was a small terrace that looked out on the beach and she slammed the sliding door open, not even caring if Mallory heard. Or what she thought.

Breathing heavily, she closed her eyes, clamping her fingers around the wrought iron railing. The metal biting into her fingers was oddly grounding. It couldn’t have been more than a minute before the door slid open again.

“So, uh, you ok?” Deeks asked. She opened her eyes, resisting the urge to snap at him. He hadn’t done anything wrong.

“I’m fine.” He came closer, leaning with his back against the railing.

“Yeah, you know I’m not buying that.” He waited for her to respond and when she didn’t, he nudged her knee with his. “You want to tell me what’s going on with you and Agent Weaver?”

“You mean aside from her hitting on you and pawing your thigh?” she bit out, surprised he needed to ask.

“You know I don’t like it and would never do anything to encourage her,” he said. He actually looked worried and she rolled her eyes, turning to face him.

“Of course I do. I trust you completely.”

“Then what’s the problem? Women hit on me pretty frequently and you don’t get this upset.”

“Oh I don’t know,” Kensi sarcastically. “Maybe the fact that she knows we’re married and still tried to get you to come to her condo on the beach? While I was standing right there. She didn’t even have the decency to wait until I was out of the room.” She felt a little petty for saying it, but couldn’t seem to stop.

“Ever since we were in training together, she’s tried to one up me. You and this case are just another chance to prove that she’s superior.”

“Hey,” Deeks said, tipping her chin up. “You do not need to prove yourself to this woman or anyone else.”

“She makes me feel inadequate,” she admitted quietly. Deeks made a noise in the back of his throat and gathered her against his chest.

“Kensi Marie Blye, you are an amazing woman in so many ways. Your intelligence and strength and compassion astound me every day. And there’s a thousand other things I could say about you, but then we’d be here all night.”

Her throat tightened a little with emotion at the love and truth she heard in Deeks’ words. He pulled back, cupping her face between his palms.

“You are perfect exactly as you are,” he added. “Don’t let some woman who doesn’t know you and hasn’t seen you in a decade make you think otherwise.”

“Thank you, baby,” she murmured, leaning her forehead against his. They stayed that way for a minute until she sighed. They would need to go back inside soon. “She just knows how to push all my buttons.”

“Hey, of she says anything else rude, I’ll beat her up,” Deeks promised. She snorted at that, patting his chest.

“Babe, you would never beat up a woman.”

“That’s true, but I can make nasty faces at her while you take her down.”

“You are so ridiculous,” she sighed. “But you always know just what to say to make me feel better.”

“That’s my job,” he said, leaning down to kiss her.

***

A/N: Thanks for the prompt! I hope this came off alright without making Kensi seem petty or something.

[locria-writes]

Stabbing Vezian doesn't end well for Mc? I just want to do it more now. Especially if you mean Vezian survives and Mc becomes nothing more than his locked up plaything. Because yes she tried to kill him but she's hot. (I assume if she did try to kill him it would be a legitimate reason for him to end the marriage but still keep the power? so he keeps her around just for sexytimes!)

Vezian fills my love of trashy dub con the most out of all your trashmen!

i couldn’t resist okay this was calling me (also dw this is not exactly how the scene will play out in game. it’s really only close to what a belligerent combat-oriented mc might do bc honestly sis deserves to go feral)

also uh, threat of murder, maybe some threat of suicide and implied dub?non?con

You never let your gaze leave Vezian once he enters the bedchambers.

Every fibre of your being trembles with indignant rage -- the humiliation of this whole farce, this ridiculous charade of a besotted fool he’s put on, and everything in between. There’s nothing you’d like more than to see him choke on his own blood.

He’s been careful, but not as careful as he fancies himself. He only gave a cursory sweep of your many boxes of jewels, and while you know not whether it was through negligence or ignorance, the hair-daggers Second Brother gifted you were left in your possession. They’re quite beautiful, all delicately carved gold with numerous precious stones deflecting from their sharp tips.

It’s the same mistake he made all those years ago, you idly muse. Back then, he didn’t expect for such a frail-looking girl to pull out a knife and start swinging at him, screaming curses and wishing death.

While you’re certain Second Brother, your dear mentor, would decry your plan as reckless folly, it’s the simplest, and most direct solution -- you will make sure that Vezian won’t leave these chambers alive, and neither will you. A murder-suicide, a less than honourable death, and far less glamourous than you were hoping for, but it’s the only way you’ll find peace. Even if it fails, at least you’ll die trying. After all, who would trust a man who killed his unwilling bride on their wedding night? He’ll be dethroned, and while you aren’t sure who can succeed him afterward, the Divine Patriarch has given you his promise that he’ll oversee the fallout, but his words are cheap.

Vezian smiles disarmingly, but you’ll never not be on edge near him. His gaze drops to your chest. “It’s a shame Essenian girls don’t wear such cuts. What’s the point of hiding one’s bosom as the nuns do?”

You bite your tongue, holding back the verbal lashing you so sorely wish to give him, the shouts of his perversion and degeneracy. He doesn’t particularly care though, as he moves closer and leans down to trace your collarbone.

He doesn’t see you reach for one of your hairpins. He’s too engrossed in making bawdy comments about your body to notice the glint of a sharpened tip.

But he’s a seasoned fighter, and as soon as you nick his neck, his hand is gripping the blade, easily matching your strength even while bleeding. “You fucking bitch....”

He’s heavier than you, stronger than you, but lacks the agility your small frame gives you. It’s easy to twist away from him, letting go of your first hairpin. It’s fine, you never intended for that to be the killing strike anyway.

You grab another pin, and seeing as he’s facing away from you, you swing down onto the base of his skull.

Vezian whirls around, eyes full of disgust as he knocks the pin out of your hand. He tightly grips your wrist, and for a moment, you’re afraid he might break it.

Still, you have another hand.. You grab your last one, and his eyes narrow, probably thinking that you’ll have another swing at him. He’s wrong, like he always is. You press the tip against the side of your neck, pushing just hard enough to break the skin as a silent threat.

He’s nervous now, you note with delight. The hostility drops from his voice. “Threatening suicide now? How base.”

You keep silent, pressing a bit harder. You don’t know if it’s actually sharp enough, and you aren’t eager to find out otherwise, but there’s nothing else you can do now.

He looks at you with the same wariness one does at a cornered animal, and slowly approaches you.

You stumble back, finally feeling fear creep down your spine. You’re still the same little girl from six years ago, trembling through her bravado as she threatens death on her wedding night.

Vezian looks a little like him, you think, but maybe it’s a trick of the dim candlelight. You remember the traces of cruelty that sometimes filled his eyes, the sheer indifference, and suddenly they’re not so different. The same, a little different, like a cruel joke of a reflection.

Your grip slackens a bit, and he takes that as his chance to grab both your wrists, and drag you back to the bed. He’s cursing you the entire time, calling you derogatory names, but you’re numb to it all.

He tears off your clothes, ignoring your occasional gasps of pain, and uses the to immobilize you. He looms over you, a loathsome smirk on his lips. “We could have had a lovely night, dearest, but you’ve really pissed me off now.”

His eyes are almost the same colour...pale with the barest trace of clear skies, but just a touch colder.

[mysmashplaythroughs]

Ice Climber Playthrough

Fighter: Ice Climbers, Popo & Nana.

Game: Ice Climber, Wii U virtual console (NES). First Released on January 15th 2007.

Fighter Bio.

Popo and Nana are climbers who over their careers have scaled many mountains. They each carry a mallet which they use as their weapon in order to fight off dangerous animals and break ice blocks from below so they can jump up to the next platform. Popo is the one in blue and Nana is the one in pink. During the events of Ice Climber, it seems a Condor has stolen their food so the two compete to climb the mountain, reclaim all the vegetables they can and if possible, jump and grab onto the condor who flies above the mountain’s summit.

Friends: The exact relationship between Popo and Nana is unknown, in Ice Climber they compete whilst climbing the mountains to see who can get the highest score, however they are well known in the Super Smash Bros series as a duo and as such seem to be closer than simply rivals. Whether they are siblings, lovers or just good friends has never been stated, and I believe neither has their age.

Enemies/Rivals: The main antagonist of the Ice Climbers is the Condor, who has stolen the food and scattered it over the summit of the mountains. The Ice Climbers don’t fight the Condor but simply jump and grab onto it by its feet in order to complete a stage. Of the enemies the pair fight, there are Topis, which in Japan appear as seals but elsewhere appear as little yeti sort of round creatures with beaks. These enemies will repair ice blocks the Ice Climbers have broken, which means they will have to be broken again in order to pass. When hit with a hammer Topis retreat back into the entrances in the mountain they originally came from. Nitpickers who are birds that swoop in are another type of enemy, these will fall out of the sky if hit with a hammer. Finally, if the Ice Climbers take too much time on a stage, a polar bear with sunglasses and pink shorts will walk into the stage, and when reaching the middle of it, stamp the ground causing the stage to scroll up one level. If the Ice Climbers are on the level that is scrolled past they will fall and fail the stage. The Polar bear similarly to the Topis will retreat when hit with a mallet. Finally, there is a somewhat harder to get version of the game, Vs. Ice Climber which had a few changes to it, and in this version later on the Condor is replaced with a giant Moth instead which similarly has to be grabbed at the top of the mountain. This version of the game also has bees as enemies.

Crossovers with other Smash characters: It would seem there are none. The Ice Climbers similar to other characters appear in things like Warioware Microgames and NES Remix, but have not had any direct crossovers or cameos in any other games.

Why this game?

Very simply, because it’s the only Ice Climbers game really. There is another version called Vs. Ice Climber but it’s not as easy to get ahold of and the differences are pretty negligable.

My past with this game.

So, I have no past with this game, similarly to most people, I only really first saw Popo and Nana in Super Smash Bros Melee, and I had no idea where they came from. Some time later, I either read in a magazine or saw on a website that went over various easter eggs and things in Smash Bros what the original game was and it did like most things in Melee make me curious about it. I remember when actually getting a chance to play it though, unlike a lot of cases, I pretty quickly lost interest in the whole thing. It was neat Super Smash Bros brought such unusual and obscure characters into the game, reinventing them really (the official art for the characters is practically non-existent) but that’s really all I have to say overall about them. Now however, there’s one final thing I have to say about the series, which is, if Nintendo wanted to take a pretty much blank slate IP and do something completely new with it, I actually feel of any of them, this game could be the most interesting one to see get a sequel. Taking the concept of climbing mountains and just going wild with it could really lead to something special in my mind, like when they took the concept of Captain Toad’s bonus stages and expanded it into a whole game, only this time there wouldn’t be a restriction of it being specifically a Mario game. The first mountain could be essentially a remake of the original game, with the Topis, Polar Bear, Nitpickers and Condor at the top, then the game could go wild, mountains going up into space, all sorts of physics and gravity bending structures, mountains with a variety of themes, and given just how expansive game worlds can be nowadays, the mountains could end up being absolutely huge locations you have to climb up. This isn’t really a thing I write to make up things I’d like to see, but really, there’s so little to talk about with Ice Climber overall, that the potential revisiting this concept might allow for is honestly all I can find interesting about it.

My Smash Playthrough.

So, this part will be somewhat short, although I wanted to have something memorable about this game so I did two ‘playthroughs’. My first playthrough years ago was on the Wii U Virtual Console, where I simply played through a few mountains. Being made a year before Super Mario Bros, this game is far more in the vein of classic Nintendo arcade games such as Donkey Kong and Mario Bros, so there’s no real end to the game, just trying to beat your high score. I could have tried to get the Condor on every single level, but the thing is, the game honestly isn’t that good, even compared to other old arcade style games that were on the NES like Donkey Kong or Mario Bros. The most irritating thing is building up momentum with the jumps, where unless you’re running before you jump, you’ll barely be able to move in any direction whilst in the air. You’re required to smash blocks from below to make a hole you can jump through, so having a small gap (that the Topis can fill in if you’re too slow) and trying to propel yourself perfectly through it can be really irritating. This is part of the challenge I realise, but I tend to dislike when part of the challenge in a game is getting around how awkwardly a character controls personally.

Many years later, I decided to test out the Switch’s NES online service, which allows you to play NES multiplayer games with friends online. Because of this and Nana only appearing in two player games, I got a friend of mine to help me play through some stages. The game wasn’t overly fun this time either, but at least having a friend join me made it a little more memorable. Still overall, this game isn’t one I’d really call a classic of Nintendo’s past, although I still like the Ice Climbers in Smash, so I’ll be thankful it could lead to that, but that’s really it when it comes to this game.

Specific aspects about the game relating to Ice Climbers in Smash.

Well, they have hammers. Honestly, the only thing I really did with my ‘playthrough’ was play the game in multiplayer in order to have Popo and Nana both in the game. If you were really dedicated, you might be able to set up the game so that one controller moves player 1 and 2 simultaneously to try and replicate the way they move in Smash, but even I think that might be going too far. Anyway, the only other thing really is grabbing the condor at the end of the level, seeing as it makes up part of the Ice Climber’s Final Smash and their entrance, but that’s really it.

Credits.

For information on this game including dates of releases I must give credit to the Ice Climber Wiki. (Which yes does actually exist and had the info about the bees and moth in Vs)

The screenshots in this post are taken by me using Miiverse before it shut down and with the screenshot feature on Nintendo Switch.

[daprec]

BJJ Floating Mat System DIY Walkthrough

I’m going to share the process of building a floating mat system, from design to sourcing materials and build. I figured I try to take out as much guess work since I had no guidance and had to learn on my own. There were several pieces of the puzzle that came as some small surprises, but hopefully this helps the next person who decided to make the leap to a better mat system. I’m unsure of the process for other countries, but in my case I will detail the process for importing goods into New Zealand – it may differ in other places. I’ll include links to the factory for all the specific mats I ordered in the post.

Towards the end of Sept 2020, just after the Covid-19 lockdown ended in New Zealand, I had an opportunity to expand my BJJ club and sub-lease space in our existing gym we ran out of. I had an elaborate vision of a floating mat system underneath some juicy dollamur mats for use to train in.

I was introduced to the floating mat system years ago when I lived in Los Angeles on a visit to Kron Gracie’s academy in Culver City. I had worked down the street and wanted to congratulate him and have a look around. My friend Ollie Barre worked there and he showed me around, even Kron said hello and mentioned the spring loaded floating mat system to me.

It was about 1/2 a meter high with actual springs under the floor with plywood on top and tatame on top of the ply. It was amazing!

Image courtesy of Kron Gracie Academy Linkedin page

I knew that’s what I wanted but I didn’t have the budget for springs, so I explored other options. After a few searches I came across a couple videos:

How to build the ultimate spring subfloor for your Judo, Jujitsu and Wrestling mats

&

How to build a Bjj subfloor

Foam and ply – sweet I can do that! Let’s measure the space:

9.7m x 4m – pretty decent space!

After the measurement I needed to visualize the build. I knew I had to see it and make something for others to see the vision I had, so I modeled everything out in Maya and made a 3D render:

Concept render

I used real world units to keep everything to spec, that means the units I use in the 3D application are accurate to and equal to the units I would use on the actual build. The sub-floor would be the most difficult thing to explain to a builder, so I did a couple renders of what the underbelly would look like:

14 sheets of plywood with sub-floor foam block layout

Single sheet plywood foam block layout

I began compiling a list of materials I would need:

15 sheets of 2440mm x 1200mm x 12mm non-structural plywood

6 sheets of closed cell polyethylene foam

tons of liquid nail

timber for boxing in – unsure of spec at that time

5cm thick floor mats, tatame finish

21 wall mats @ 183cm x 122cm x 5cm

Living in New Zealand is awesome BUT sourcing some of these materials was going to be difficult and super expensive. I started calling around and emailing different foam companies and dollamur reps. I was getting quotes just for the dollamur mats of $5-6k NZD alone! I found a company that imports foam and was quoted $500/sheet of PE foam! I didn’t even bother looking at the wall mats – it would have cost me closer to 10K to get everything from NZ companies, so I decided to cut out the middle man and source materials myself.

Of course this lead me to Alibaba.com – the Chinese based website that gives people like myself access to factories where these things are typically made. After a few days of searching and multiple emails, I found a factory – Quindao Sanhong Plastic Co, LTD – that appeared to manufacture everything I needed – floor mats, wall mats and PE foam sheets.

It was my 1st time using Alibaba and to be honest I was SUPER dubious. I would be dealing with people outside of the country I lived in which carries a larger sense of the unknown.

I ended up chatting with a service person named Emily. She was incredibly helpful and thorough and made sure she understood what I required. I sent her an absurd amount of photos, videos, all of my renderings of what I had in mind, the measurements and other specs. She talked me into getting a more dense mat (40kg/cbm – a new unit of measurement I was completely unfamiliar with) for both the floor mats and sub-floor mats.

Originally I intended to have that pool noodle type foam, but Emily urged me not to go that route and go for something thicker – the cost was negligible so I went for it. Trusting someone you’ve never met overseas was hard, but I figured I needed to roll the dice.

The floor mat specs I went with were 3 rolls of 9.7m x 1.33m x 5cm with a tatame finish

Link to mats here

Floor mats

Next were the wall mats. I needed 21 wall mats @ 183cm x 122cm x 5cm Link to mats here

Wall mats

Next was the closed cell sub-floor PE foam. Quindao made 2m x 1m sheets of this stuff, and I needed 6 sheets total to accommodate my space. These were roughly $40USD / sheet so if I got it wrong I figured it wouldn’t be TOO much of a loss. Link to foam sheets here

This is the pool noodle foam I was expecting, but not what I ended up receiving

Emily was very patient and understand of my reservations in dealing with an overseas factory. After a few more emails and messages I pulled the trigger and made the order. At this stage Emily walked me through the process and gave me a general idea of several unknown import costs. Her estimate on the NZ import tax was very close, but she did inform me there would be other costs she had no way of providing an estimate for.

I forgot to mention that a couple months prior to ordering I had already setup a legit business in anticipation of building my dream in the future. Emily had requested an NZ Import ID so fortunately I was already qualified to apply for a NZ business import ID through NZ Customs. This cost me about $200 to register my business and get an import ID.

After providing all of my information, she came back with a total cost and import tax estimate I would pay on arrival. Freight costs from China to NZ were SUPER cheap – about $80NZD to ship 700kg worth of stuff, so that was fine.

I paid the deposit so the manufacturing could get under way. Once they were finished making all of the mats/materials I would then pay in full prior to loading onto the ship. It took them about 4 weeks to finish everything. At that time there was one final check through that they had all of my correct information and import ID and that was that. The order started on 11/02/2020 and was shipped on 12/08/2020

Because of Covid, there were huge delays with international shipping and unloading, so the wait time was longer than usual. It was supposed to take 40 days but ended up being much longer than that. The mats arrived in NZ the 1st week of February 2021 – phew at least they made it safe!

This is where a lot of the surprises and unknowns came into play. I received an email from some guy at a freight company saying my mats had arrived and I needed to send all of the arrival documents to my broker

Evidently I had to obtain an import broker to forward all of the documents to, which no one makes any mention of. But here’s where things get a little…rackety. I ended up going with EasyFreight brokers who charged me about $200 for their services. They emailed documents from NZ Customs where I then had to pay around $500NZD for the Import Tax.

Once the Import Tax was paid, my mats could then be released BUT…the mysterious freight company who initially emailed me now says I need to pay them $1900NZD before they ship my mats to Wellington. This fee was for unloading the mats from the ship and onto the dock and storing them in a warehouse until all of the documents cleared. This almost doubled the cost of the mats I ordered and by now the total cost was getting close to what I was getting quotes from NZ based companies.

I paid the invoice and they put my mats onto a truck to be shipped down to Wellington to ANOTHER freight company – not directly to me for whatever dumb reason. I contacted the new freight company, had a bit of confusion and back and forth but eventually I ended up having to pay them another $250NZD to ship my mats to the gym. What a racketeering outfit huh?

They delivered the mats and I immediately started ripping up the packaging to have a look at my new goods. I have to say that what I purchased exceeded my expectations. The floor mats where BETTER than what I expected, the wall mats were BETTER than what I anticipated and the sub-floor foam ended up being more closer to memory foam than pool noodle foam. Holy hell we’re gonna have some sweet mats to roll on!

To the build!

After a trip to Bunnings to pickup timber, liquid nail and a few other things, that tallied up to over $1000NZD we were on our way.

The 1st order of business was to cut the foam sheets into blocks. I had originally calculated 7cm x 10cm x 10 cm but when we laid everything out, we’d only be using 2 sheets of foam and would have had to cut relatively tiny blocks. So instead we went with 20cm x 20cm x 10cm blocks – much easier to cut and deal with and even then we had a ton left over (which we made use of by the end of it.

Foam blocks

I worked out the numbers and we did 3 x 5 rows of blocks per plywood sheet

1st row of 8 pieces of 2440mm x 1200mm x 12mm plywood with 15 foam blocks liquid nailed to ply

We had all of the blocks glued to the ply and realized we had HEAPS left over, so we decided to re-jig some things around and use the extra blocks in the spaces inbetween sheets of ply on the seams and corners. This ended up adding an extra level of stability between the ply and would be less likely to damage the mats on top.

Using extra blocks underneath ply seams

Once all the plywood was laid out and the liquid nail given a bit of time to cure, we had to then box everything in to prevent sliding. This required a concrete drill/concrete bit, about 10 dynabolts (basically concrete bolts with anchors), some timber 2 x 4s, more liquid nail and a bit of good old fashioned elbow grease.

We made a mess!

The guys marked where the holes needed to be drilled roughly 1 1/2 meters apart. After the holes were drilled and swept, we laid down a very long 2×4 that was already predrilled with the initial concrete hole drilling. A dynabolt was hammered into the hole as far as it could, then racheted down with a socket wrench to tighten. The 1st piece of timber would be the foundation the other boxing in pieces would be anchored to.

The farside wall was crooked so that meant our sheets were slightly offset on the outside edge. As long as the surrounding box was square, the top layer mats would hide the crooked ply and we’d be fine.

Timber posts are rather expensive in NZ and usually crooked, so we ended up gluing and screwing 2 2×4 together so that 1. they cost less and 2. we could straighten them much easier.

Boxing in almost complete

To secure the 2x4s to the base we used nails and several Stud to Bottom galvanized fixings. We needed to make sure there would be absolutely no flex with the box.

To have a nicer finish, we added a thin layer of finger jointed pine on top of the 2x4s secured with finishing nails. The grain and look of it is much more eye pleasing than the sides of 2x4s and I can stain or paint it later.

Finishing touches on the sub-floor box

We left about a 3cm lip around the box so when the mats sit on top of the ply, the outer frame would contain and lock in the mats from sliding. The mats came very well packaged in three 1.3m x 9.7m x 5cm rolls

1 of 3 mat rolls

We placed extra ply against the walls to create a wedge/spacing for the wall mats. Upon rolling out the 1st roll we realized the wall was not straight…at all, but we made it work. 1st mat down!

The middle roll was relatively easy to to setup and the velcro attachment worked out perfectly.

That tatame finish texture is looking nice!

The final row did prove to be a bit more challenging but we eventually squeezed it into the remaining space. We can do math!!

After a full day of work we got the mats installed. We started at 11am, did a Bunnings run to collect tubes of liquid nail, screws, etc, got to the gym at around 12:30pm and finished just after 1am.

The following weekend we mounted the wall mats which were relatively straight forward. We ran 2 rows of 5m x 18mm pine planks along the wall, one at the top of the wall mats and one mid mat for support. I forgot to take pics but we basically created a support system and something to drill into instead of thick firewall jib.

We finished in the evening, cleaned up and of course we had a roll!

Some after thoughts

I can’t tell you how happy I am with this setup. Having an extra 10cm of foam under the sub floor has made a HUGE difference. It only took about 3 weeks to break in the harshness of new mats, and the tatame finish has been amazing. They aren’t slippery at all and are like heaven to roll on. One thing I would have done, which I most likely will do soon is to place 1 screw into each foam block under the sub floor.

What happens is the vibrations of people moving on the mats will cause the foam blocks to shift if they liquid nail didn’t stick. Not a big deal as we can simply lift the mats/play and move the foam, but that’s the only thing I would have done. Everything else worked out perfectly and I could not be more happy.

I hope this helps anyone who is interested in building something like this. There are a LOT of unknowns that go into importing goods from overseas, but I covered all of the “gotcha” moments along the way. Also I can with full confidence say that Quindao Plastics manufacture high spec and high quality mats/foam. They exceeded my expectations, so you can purchase with confidence. I knew nothing about them, only went by their Trade Assurance certification rating on Alibaba, but who the hell knows what that means? I’m thrilled I rolled the dice – they nailed it!

Reach out if you have any questions

Oss!

BJJ Floating Mat System DIY Walkthrough was originally published on davepreciado

[winetae]

:: modern loneliness

⇨ prompt : android!hoseok x reader. 2205 words. drabble with a possible follow-up. it’s been 38 days since you’ve last seen and interacted with a living, breathing person and you’re slowly going insane.

.

[Week 1 of lock down.]

At first, you’re optimistic. 

Working from home comes with its own set of non-negligeable perks. Notably, no more commute time! No more squeezing in between sweaty men on the subway during rush hour just to get home. The new arrangement means that you’re no longer obliged to wake up at the ass crack of dawn to blow-dry your hair or meticulously put on makeup while stuffing a bagel into your mouth because you’re short on time. 

On Day 1 of quarantine, you roll out of bed and don’t even bother to change out of your pajamas. It’s quite the sight. Not that you care whether or not your hair looks like a bird’s nest or if there’s a small hole in your shirt. You’d gladly take your flannel pants and old university sweatshirt with the coffee stain by the collar over the rigid pencil skirt and stupid obligatory heels they force you to wear to the office. Ironing? You don’t know her. 

That’s not to say there aren't any inconveniences but as of now, the pros outweigh the cons. For one, you’re now allowed to add as much sugar into your coffee without susciting your coworkers’ judgement. You can blast angry rap songs while finishing your reports and no one will stop you. The list goes on. 

With all this newfound time on your hands, you have no more valid reasons to procrastinate. You start off by cleaning out the kitchen cabinets you’d been meaning to re-organize for months. Then you rearrange your wardrobe, dust off the top shelves of your bookcase that you usually skip over because no one can see them, and water the potted plants you’d been neglecting. 

It feels great to be so productive. Your friends tell you via FaceConnect that your productivity streak won’t last long, but you’re quick to shake off their doubts. 

“I’m a new me!” You insist when Mia’s laughter echoes around your empty apartment. “My life is back on track. I feel like a proper adult now that I’m not struggling so much to get everything done.”

“Sure,” she humors you. “Just don’t get upset when I tell you I told you so.”

.

[Day 8 of lockdown.]

Now that your apartment is cleaner than it’s ever been, you need to find other means of entertainment. According to the internet, now is the ideal time to learn a new language or acquire a new hobby, like crocheting or playing the guitar. But while it might be technically possible to learn a language, you’re definitely not an overachiever. You’re aware of your own limits. 

Today you try your hand at baking. To some it might not seem like a big deal. But for someone like you who solely uses the kitchen to boil ramyeon packets and chop the occasional vegetable, today’s venture into the world of cooking is the equivalent of a quantum leap. 

The molten lava cakes that come out of the oven 15 minutes later don’t look like the picture advertised in the online recipe. They don’t taste like how you’d expected, either. 

You try not to be too disappointed with your failed attempt. After all, it’s only your first try. Dry cakes aren’t that bad in comparison to the horrors that could have occurred. At least nothing is burnt and your oven is still intact. You’ll try again tomorrow with hopefully a little more success.

.

[Day 16 of lockdown.]

It turns out that baking is not for you. After numerous trials and errors you learn a few days later that you have no vacation to be a baker. You end up abandoning all attempts to acquire a new hobby and instead look for new ways to pass the time. 

Thankfully, your home server is offering free VOD for a limited amount of time, so you’re not short on distractions. You consume around half a dozen cult movies, the kind people always reference and quote without actually watching, before you finally begin crossing TV series off your to-watch list. 

You yawn. It’s 9 PM on a Saturday night and you’ve just finished binging the entire season of Tiger King. It’s the third show you’ve watched from start to finish since quarantine began and now you’re wondering whether you should start a fourth. 

“Well, it’s not like I have anything better to do,” you say before a grimace crosses your face. “Oh great... Now I’m talking to myself.” 

That can’t be a good sign, you think to yourself. How long has it been since you’ve last talked to someone? You used to call your parents every day but when there’s nothing new to report, the conversations become repetitive and dull. 

You should call Mia. Just to see how she’s doing.

.

[Day 24 of lockdown.] 

YOUR WEEKLY BASKET FROM FOODCONNECT HAS ARRIVED. ALL PURCHASES WILL BE ADDED TO YOUR MONTHLY EXPENSES CARD. REMINDER THAT DUE TO THE EXCEPTIONAL CIRCUMSTANCES, CONNECT CARDS ARE ALLOWED A 5000 EXCESS OVER FIXED LIMIT. TOTAL EXCESS HAS NOT YET BEEN REACHED.

.

[Day 38 of lockdown.] 

You’re browsing BH, hoping to restock your vitamins. Lately you’ve been feeling tired and mentally drained, despite your workload not being what it used to be. Why you’re so exhausted is a mystery you’ve yet to solve. In all logic, your energy level should be at an all time high now that you’re working less and spending all your free time lounging on the couch surfing the internet. 

According to the national health guideline, you’re supposed to be exercising an hour a day minimum in order for your body to remain in good condition. Your BODYCONNECT watch monitor beeps every hour to remind you that you haven’t completed the suggested activity. 

Ugh. 

You press the button on the side of the watch to turn the reminder off. It’s the fifth time you’ve had to silence it today but you can’t bring yourself to work up a sweat right this minute. You keep telling yourself that you’ll exercise later but like all things lately, later ends up being never. 

Come to think of it, this isn’t the first time you’ve caught yourself slacking off. Where did all your motivation during week 1 of lockdown go? You don’t even have the strength to do ten jumping jacks anymore; it’s like your bones belong to a person three times your age - feeble and brittle and threatening to break at a moment’s notice. 

LOW ON SEROTONIN? WE’VE GOT YOU COVERED. Flash promo over in 00:32:43! Limited offer while supplies last.

A bright yellow advertisement flashes on the top right corner of your screen. Intrigued, you follow the link without expecting much. The last thing you expect is to be brought directly to BH LAB’s homepage. 

“Um… I don’t think I have the budget for this…” You mutter under your breath and prepare to exit out of the page. 

Androids are usually employed by the government but the ones for sale to the general public are known to be exorbitantly expensive. 

A message reads: EXCLUSIVE 1 HOUR PROMO, 40% OFF YOUR FIRST PURCHASE. Click here for more details. Offer valid for new customers only. 

You pause and decide to click on the link. Looking around won’t hurt anyone, right? It’s not like you’ve decided to buy anything yet. 

The seven Dwellers available for sale are just as good looking as you expected them to be. Their unnaturally good looks and vibrant green eyes are what makes them easy to pick out from the crowd. 

You skim through each Dweller’s description. It seems that apart from the physical differences like their facial features and build, they each have their own specialty and characteristics. One of the best-selling models boasts the cooking ability of a 5-star chef, which you admit sounds very tempting since your skills with a knife are pathetic enough to make Gordon Ramsey cry. 

Another best-selling model specializes in...sex. You blink, your cheeks warming as you read over the model’s description (the “thick, vibrating cock that guarantees an orgasm every time!” comment makes you choke on your saliva). You can understand straight away why this particular model would be so popular. All of the models are pretty, but this one’s face doesn’t look like it’s from this world. Confinement would make anyone horny, and when promised a godly sex bot equipped with a vibrating dick, well…

Too bad you’re too tired these days to even think about having “mind-blowing sex for 5 hours straight.” Having such intense intercourse would probably make you pass out on the Dweller’s artificial cock, and there’s no way in hell you would want someone from CONNECT to intervene after receiving distressed signals from your body monitor. That would just be embarrassing. 

You’re about to exit out of the page, curiosity sated, when the last model catches your eye.

SEROTONIN BOOSTER. Low on energy? Feeling sad or depressed? Need a companion? 

This model is perfect for you! Model JHS is equipped with emotion sensors. They will fulfill your every need even when you’re not able to vocalize them. Stressed? They specialize in massages and are proficient in: Swedish massages, Aromatherapy, Shiatsu massages, Reflexology, among others. 

Personality : This model is energetic. They are very active and therefore requires a minimum 6 hours to recharge. They are extremely tactile and will easily engage in skinship such as hugs or holding hands. They are talkative and will hold passionate conversations with you about almost any subject. 

Likes : cleaning, working out

Dislikes : horror movies, strong smells

When reading the description, it feels they’re talking about a person rather than an android. You’re surprised to see that the Dwellers are programmed to have a certain personality that caters to specific needs because the only androids you’ve ever come across before are the government ones, and they’ve always been stoic and devoid of any distinguishing characteristic. 

It would be nice, you think, to have a companion. Someone you could talk to for real instead of through a pixelated hologram. As much as you enjoy your time alone, each passing day locked in your apartment makes you realize how much you long for a hug. You miss holding someone in your arms, feeling their heartbeat against your cheek and the rise and fall of their chest as they squeeze you back. 

Model JHS looks like he could fill that vacancy. Their smile is blinding, like they’re physically radiating sunshine through their expression alone. You don’t doubt their capacity to bring positive energy into your life. 

Before you can think twice about it you’re adding the model to your shopping cart. The site asks you if you want to pay more in order to customize them. For an additional fee, you’re able to tweak the Dweller’s personality or modify their physical attributes to your liking. You skip over the option. For one, you don’t have the funds to afford a vibrating dick enhancement and two, you’re more than satisfied with your Dweller as they are.

It’s not until you finish supplying all your information including your Connect Card details and shipping address that you realize what a monumental purchase you’re about to make and how empty your account will be by the end of it.

You stare at the price listed at the bottom of the screen and weigh your options. Even with the 40% reduction, it’s not a negligible sum. You could buy several models of the new Birkin bag you’d been saving up for with this money. 

Why purchase designer bags when you can’t even go out and use them? a voice argues. And - uh. Fair point. 

In any case, you’d have to stop shopping, eating out all the time and going on frivolous trips overseas. Not that you really have a choice, given the circumstances. 

You look at the laptop screen again. Are you seriously so touch-deprived that you’re willing to fork over that much money for a live-at-home android? Really? 

Fuck it. 

You click on [VALIDATE PAYMENT] before rationality has time to kick in and you change your mind again. Just as the screen changes and the new page loads, you feel your heart leap to your throat but it’s too late to back out now. 

PROCESSING ORDER …

...

CONGRATULATIONS! 

YOU HAVE SUCCESSFULLY ORDERED (1) DWELLER - JHS MODEL. WE THANK YOU FOR YOUR PURCHASE. 

(!) Your order is eligible for Instant Shipping (delivered to your door in 24 hours or less). 

(!!) Due to exception circumstances, your order might encounter delays. We are taking multiple steps to ensure the safety and hygiene of all products and shipments. For more information click here.

(!) All BH products are covered by a limited two-year warranty. Please refer to warranty details regarding your product in the Dweller E-HandBook, free for download here. Please register your product after purchase in order to qualify for future claims, returns, and support.

You expel the breath you’d been holding. Your father will throw a fit once he finds out you’ve blown all your money on a bot. The criticism is warranted.

What are you even supposed to say to defend yourself? You’ve bought a  Dweller on a whim while browsing for Vitamin C supplements.

Quarantine is really making you lose your goddamn mind, huh.

[kariachi]

Okay, thoughts on an alternate everything to make for a marginally better Rooters arc

Plumbers Kids remain Plumbers’ kids. They are all still the children of Plumbers who went around doing their gotdamn thing

Is Kevin a Plumber’s kid? I don’t know. Might go with the ‘unknown son of a Devin’ version, might go with the ‘who the fuck knows who his dad was it was definitely an alien though’ version, might go with something completely different.

He’s a half-Ossy mutant though, that is staying and key and this way they don’t have to fuck with why he doesn’t have a singular clue about any of these of these other hybrid kids

He also doesn’t want jack-all to do with the Plumbers himself. The Tennysons keep trying to get him to be more than a freelance artist in the whole ‘defending people’ thing but he’s just not having it

Argit? Also? Not so big a shit where Kevin is involved. Not so big a shit in general. Still an asshole, but when the chips are down the fact he has morals despite himself shines through

He will skin you over Kevin or at least make you think he will

Same with Andreas

Andreas deserved better and he’s getting it so help me

Also Aggregor is in no way related to the Rooters, just getting that out of the way here

Manny, Helen, and Pierce aren’t doing that stupid ‘aliens are evil’ shit, because they are not Tennysons and their families did not look at them being all not-100%-human and go “oh no there is no alien involved here whatsoever”

I don’t know what they’re doing, but it ain’t that. Living their lives, probably

Also all the non-Tennyson Plumber brats fucking know each other, fight me

The Plumbers Kids, Kevin, and Ester are not the only hybrids on the show. You don’t see any others in AF, but as UA and OV go on you see them here and there, generally in background shots, on rare occasions talking to Kevin or Argit

Then fucking Cuntface and the Cuntettes show up looking for Kevin and Argit and we get why he didn’t want shit to do with the Plumbers

Alternate Rooters Shit Time!

Servantis still snatched Kevin up, alongside a load of other kids, enslaving them (yes making child soldiers is slavery there’s whole definitions out there) and running illegal experiments on them. But here, when I say ‘a load’ I mean it. He grabbed up any small runaway he could find for his little army, though the number of kids who survived any length of time is much lower

The amalgamating process itself got less and less deadly as time went on, there was a good number of corpses between Kevin first getting hooked up and Servantis taking a shot, and even after that it took a lot of work before the chance of death for the kids was negligible and it wasn’t seriously painful for them

They never managed to make it not painful for Kevin

There’s a fair number of mutants among the surviving Amalgams, and among the surviving ‘donors’, because they tend to be more durable and also y’all know I have to have some mutant shit going on

There’s about 15-20 Amalgams left by the Rooters arc, out of the 20-30 there were when the project ended

There was a ‘specialized’ force training to take down Ben, but they never got the chance before Argit of all people spearheaded a mass escape

Kevin was in too bad of shape mentally to really be happy with the situation, more just following along with what his one actual friend said, but looking back he’s very grateful and would totally let Argit use his spine for scrimshaw if he wanted

All the kids and donors present in the base got out successfully, it all turned out very well, and they all went their separate ways- in small groups or pairs

The idea being that Cuntface would have a harder time tracking down a load of individuals as opposed to one large group, and if they cut themselves off from each other as much as possible then that minimized the chances that if he caught one group he could track down them all

You got a lot of donors leaving with and keeping an eye on Amalgams, since Argit was the youngest donor and still older than the majority of the Amalgams

Between Kevin associating with Hero of the Milky Way Ben and Argit finding himself a Hero of Earth, Servantis has managed to track their asses down- Kevin because he’s the key to his whole operation and Argit because his pride is scarred from a fucking 12-yo, uneducated orphan rodent managing to set his plans back several years at least

I don’t know what precisely happens after Kevin and Argit go on the run (Rooters of All Evil goes similarly to canon, except fuckers get sent directly after Argit and there’s no big ‘holy shit I remember everything now’ going on. Kevin does a lot more fighting back and Argit is a lot more involved) but that’s the baseline changes right there

Anyone who wants to run with it, have at

[ever-searching]

Companion piece to FFXIVWrite #30

Since my writing for the FFXIVWrite prompt #30: Splinter (which can be found here) included a lot of different AUs which I’ve never talked about, I thought that I could write a companion piece which tells a bit more about them. I decided to also add short descriptions of each character's “main universe” versions for clarity.

Short summaries can be found below. Be warned that the text may contain minor story spoilers for the FFXIV main scenario story line until the early bits of Shadowbringers, though.

(MU = "main universe" (roleplay-verse), WoL = Warrior of Light (canon storyline), First = Norvrandt version)

Cain

MU Cain: An adventurer/odd-jobs from Thanalan who is trying to make his mark and struggles with impostor syndrome a bit. Lived on the streets from Calamity until roughly 7th Astral Era. Somewhat snarky at times, but at his core an awkward nerd. Thaumaturge with basic knife-fighting skills.

WoL Cain: Starts off very enthusiastic but gradually gets tired of everyone expecting that he solves their problems and nobody giving him even a small break. Got off the streets a year or two earlier than the MU Cain but still inherited his self-negligent ascetic lifestyle. Possibly snarkier than the other versions. Black Mage / Dark Knight.

First Cain / “Kayneth”: Son of a miner couple from Twine who left to seek better life in Eulmore; he either wasn't taken along or didn’t manage to become a bonded citizen. Eventually, his path lead him to Crystarium, where he became an adventurer. Lost his eyesight at some point when something clawed him in the face but navigates using aether.

Narangelel

MU Narangelel: A wanderer/hunter from the Azim Steppe who came to Azeroth to sate her wanderlust and find something that would fill the emptiness she feels. Placid and polite but sometimes a bit apathetic, perhaps. Lancer, though also somewhat effective with knives.

WoL Narangelel: Leaves the Steppe a few years earlier than MU Nara. Still hasn't found what she is looking for, but although her work is hard, she feels oddly at peace with it. Possibly fascinated by dragons after acquiring a dragoon soulstone. Represents Kha tribe rather than Mol during the Naadam (possibly negotiating a temporary alliance between the two tribes beforehand) and turns down Magnai’s proposal, though politely (because he'd definitely make one). Dragoon / Rogue.

First Narangelel / “Naldia”: Adventurer who hunts monsters and sin eaters as her profession. Has traced her origins to the Kingdom of Voeburt but hasn’t yet managed to visit Il Mheg. A bit more world-weary than the other two versions.

Storm

MU Storm: Former magical murder machine / Garlean conscript from Gyr Abania, current book merchant / artisan living in Ul'dah. Nicknamed ‘Stoneface' for a reason. Aether sensitive. Has a fairly strict code of honour. Helps the downtrodden when he can, particularly if they are magically capable. Arcanist with elemental spells and no carbuncles.

WoL Storm: Ends up helping Momodi with something, and somehow that leads to Storm becoming the Warrior of Light. Has a lot of conflicted feelings for a very long time, particularly when the events take him to Gyr Abania; eventually, the Ala Mhigans (some of who might recognize him) forgive him for his past deeds. Possible dad figure for some Scions. Summoner / Gunbreaker; still rarely uses egis or healing spells.

First Storm / “Forgiven Remorse”: An unfortunate Hume who got turned into a sin eater. Might have been a powerful mage and/or a powerful soldier, but he is doomed to get struck down. (A short post about this version can be found here.)

G’ilas

MU G’ilas: A cheerful adventurer/treasure hunter from Abalathia’s Spine who served the Maelstrom as a field medic until Cartenau. Usually an optimist and even something of a joker, but dislikes being pressured and doesn’t take it well if he is unable to save someone. Conjurer, though he does carry a knife.

WoL G’ilas: As the MU one, except that his adventuring path lead him to meet with the Scions of the Seventh Dawn. While he remains fairly cheerful and smiles often, the losses and failures he has suffered in the course of his journeys have given his optimism a slightly desperate edge at times: he might not have met any of his closest companions in this timeline, which gives him a shakier foundation. White Mage, and possibly a Samurai.

First G’ilas / “Gae-Satt”: A relaxed Mystel living a life of luxury in Eulmore. Still friendly and happy-go-lucky, but doesn’t seem to be interested in adventuring in the least.

Merces

MU Merces: Allagan bodyguard/soldier clone who slumbered in Azys Lla for millennia before getting freed by a band of adventurers (namely G‘ilas and his friends). Chose G’ilas as his new master, but is slowly learning to live without constantly serving someone. Still sometimes feel like a fish out of (temporal) water. Polite, somewhat curious and very serious-minded. Gladiator, but adequate with more or less all melee weapons.

WoL Merces: Rather than having been forgotten or left in Azys Lla, this version of Merces was placed in the Crystal Tower and awakened after the beginning of the 7th Umbral Era. As he never found a master, he might feel and act even more detached from the world than the MU Merces. Gladiator / Lancer / Samurai.

First Merces: Doesn’t exist. Allagan Empire never existed in Norvrandt, and the person he was based on probably lived and died centuries earlier.

Sasameru

MU Sasameru: A Dunesfolk researcher with a passion for studying magic, though his own aetherial capabilities are almost non-existent. Amiable but a bit absent-minded at times. Runs a bookshop. May or may not do some shady business as an informant and a code cracker as a side-business, encouraged by his family.

WoL Sasameru: Doesn't exist. Would require Sasameru more capable in manipulating aether, and if that was the case, his backstory might have taken quite a different turn.

First Sasameru / "Samugg"?? "Samsard"??: A researcher working at the Cabinet of Curiosity in Crystarium. While I originally intended to keep his race the same, Lalafells/Dwarves are quite rare and reclusive, which made me reconsider... so it's also possible that First Sasameru would in fact be a Galdjent (as their naming scheme would work well with his name).

Lumien

MU Lumien: A soft-hearted, somewhat clumsy and insecure Elezen from Gridania who struggled and failed to become a Wood Wailer, then ran from home and tried to become a Gladiator in Ul'dah, and then became a retainer. Has some aptitude with conjury but doesn't (yet) know how to utilize his potential nor fully believe in it. Writes poems and likes cats. Gladiator / Conjurer, though both only on very basic levels.

WoL Lumien: Didn’t give up on Gladiator training before he encountered Thancred and so remained one. After he gets introduced to the Scions of the Seventh Dawn, he doesn’t initially realize (or accept) that he is the Warrior of Light. Learns to control his nerves to a degree, which makes him less clumsy in battle, and that in turn helps him to become a bit more confident; still writes poetry and remains fairly shy. Knows that he can't save everyone but still tries, even though it hurts. Paladin / Conjurer.

First Lumien / "Lyriath": The son of bandits/poachers who has been dragged into the life of crime; hates what he is doing but doesn't think he can escape it. Insecure and downhearted, and has an occasional tendency to make a martyr of himself.

Haldswys

All three versions follow roughly the same theme of "boisterous bruiser", though the WoL version and particularly the First version have probably gained quite bit more scars than the MU version.

Chaz

MU Chaz: Self-proclaimed "wisdom hunter" who left Ishgard after he wasn't allowed to study in the Scholasticate. Loves books and does anything and everything to get them, including stealing. Somewhat bratty and arrogant, but still probably a jerk with a heart of gold. Rogue with some improvised Astrologian skills.

WoL Chaz: At some point, his paths crossed with the Scions of the Seventh Dawn, and one thing lead to another until he found himself being the saviour of Eorzea. Still sometimes puts an act of a know-it-all, speaks snarkily and/or refuses to do things that he doesn't like, but he is surprisingly dedicated to saving the world. Besides, being a hero has given him a way into some restricted libraries, so he can't really complain, can he? Astrologian / Ninja.

First Chaz / "Sawes": A guard defending Crystarium. While he doesn't exactly love fighting, has become somewhat nonchalant about fighting over the course of years, at least as long as he isn't in mortal danger. Visits the Cabinet of Curiosity on his days off and has probably read a large number of the books there.

Brenda

MU Brenda: A travelling minstrel who carries their father's Red Mage soulstone in the hopes that it will either react to them or that they will find someone worthy of it. A bit awkward but strives to look and act like a hero. Archer.

WoL Brenda: Runs into the Scions of the Seventh Dawn and accompanies them, thinking that one of them might be the worthy holder of the soulstone. In general, they probably spend a good while thinking that they're just accompanying the real heroes to record their story or being the replacement hero until the real one is found; they are convinced only when the soulstone ends up choosing them. Red Mage / Bard.

First Brenda / "Brinaette": A citizen of the Crystarium known to perform at the Wandering Stairs. Probably very knowledgeable or at least interested in the history of Norvrandt. Might also be an adventurer although singing and playing guitar are their biggest passions.

[kiruuuuu]

Bandit/Jäger oneshot in which they’re on holiday, and maybe, just maybe, Bandit is up to something. Includes Sledge/Maestro, Smoke/Mute, Blitz/Rook and my recruits!! (Rating T/M, chaos, shenanigans + fluff, ~9.3k words) -  written for @grasshopper643​! This was an absolute blast, thank you so so much for commissioning me, and also for including the recruits 💖💖

.

Bandit awakens to birdsong, crickets chirping up a storm, bright sunlight falling into the comfy room smelling of old wood, and another body draped over his. Mind blissfully blank, he takes advantage of the marvellous situation he finds himself in: a deep breath fills his lungs with warm, fragrant summer air, and when he tilts his head to feel the soothing rays on his cheeks, he just happens to snuggle closer to the man atop him. Hands wander over exposed skin, travel down the dip of the lower waist, climb the gentle rise a bit further down, fingertips digging into inviting flesh.

Jäger stirs, not much, just enough so Bandit knows he’s awake, and wraps even tighter around him with a contented sigh. Normally, an embrace this snug would feel suffocating, and normally, the start of a new day would be met with unwilling groans and mutual shoving, but they’re on holiday. Bandit’s mind is at peace here, aided by the floral scent of all the flowers thriving not only outside the small house but scattered inside, too, inhabiting vases everywhere and mixing with the building’s own organic smell. Jäger’s personal one is merely the cherry on top.

Lazily, Bandit mouths at his lover’s shoulder while continuing the really quite lovely groping, massaging plump cheeks in preparation of early morning sex, something for which they rarely have the time. But they’re on holiday. They can do what they want. If he was any more awake, he might endeavour to take Jäger apart with his tongue until his moans turn into these hoarse pleas which never fail to drive Bandit insane, yet he’s afraid they’ll have to make do with languid humping amid deep kisses – travelling to their destination yesterday was surprisingly exhausting and they needed the sleep.

Nibbling at Jäger’s nape of the neck earns him his first moan for the day, so he uses more teeth, continues down that vein and grins to himself when Jäger stretches into his ministrations, sees a shadow move by the window and looks up, over Jäger’s shoulder, to -

- to be faced with five pairs of eyes. Very wide, and very curious.

His gaze must’ve turned murderous as all five idiots drop out of view immediately and, from the quiet sounds of it, scramble to get away. Vague regret befalls Bandit not for the first time: this half-baked plan might come to bite him in the arse eventually.

Oblivious to this distraction, Jäger curls into him and captures his lips in a sloppy kiss, and just for a moment, Bandit considers not getting up at all. Give ‘em a show, who cares – part of him wants to show off his boyfriend with his long limbs, the adorable little smiles, confident movements so unusual for him. And Jesus fucking Christ, not even twenty-four hours in Italy, and he’s already let its sappy atmosphere seep into his thoughts.

“Off”, he orders and slaps Jäger’s backside hard enough to leave a bright red mark. With a dissatisfied grumble, Jäger obliges and rolls off him, but not without reaching between Bandit’s legs and hell, he really doesn’t make anything easy, does he? There’s a brief scuffle accompanied by sleepy giggling on Jäger’s part and vanishing resistance on Bandit’s, and when he ends up pinning the other man down by the wrists, he still hasn’t won. Because Jäger beams up at him so unguardedly that it feels like a stab to the heart. He’s just, he’s just so -

Out of the corner of his eye, he spots movement once more and that’s it.

“I’ll be right back”, he promises and, despite being incredibly pissed, briefly sucks on Jäger’s neck for good measure just so his smile doesn’t fade before untangling their limbs and getting up. On the way out, he pulls on a t-shirt and underwear since he doesn’t feel like digging through their luggage for his sweatpants, takes one set of keys and leaves the house to face his delegation of idiots.

The five recruits have piled up outside the door, the majority visibly uncomfortable.

“Sorry for interrupting, chief”, the Irish lad, Shay, brightly addresses him and gets shushed by the others immediately before continuing much more quietly: “We just wanted to report back.”

“Did anything happen?”, Bandit asks and looks to the only competent one of the bunch, the Russian lurking in the back, always seeming uninterested yet no doubt watching like a hawk out of the corner of his eyes. Bandit probably likes Ivan Ivanovic the most as he has him largely figured out – he’s familiar with the cool façade of nonchalance hiding a sharp mind, while he never has any clue what’s going on in Shay’s, Jojo’s or Gian’s heads. Nor is he particularly curious. And Valenti reminds him too much of Blitz sometimes: an overachiever, someone who fancies himself a leader.

“They had romantic breakfast, so Gian called cops on them”, Ivan Ivanovic replies levelly.

Bandit waits a second to see if they’re joking, but Shay merely nods encouragingly and since he can’t lie for shit, they must be serious. He massages his temples and, to buy time in order to process this revelation, barks at Valenti and Jojo: “If either of you glances at my cock one more time, I’m going to shove it up your ass.”

Both gazes snap up in instant terror and both faces flush a satisfying crimson. Well. He could’ve phrased this better.

“To be quite frank, we were in a state of non-negligible panic”, Gian points out calmly. “An interruption seemed the necessary course of action, yet revealing our presence unwise, so I acted swiftly.”

“It wasn’t that big of a deal anyway”, Jojo cuts in, sensing Bandit’s disbelief, “they turned out to know some of Maestro’s relatives, we think, so they had a pleasant chat and left and were none the wiser.”

“So let me get this straight – you made a false emergency call and are patting yourselves on the back now?”

Valenti opens his mouth to protest yet realises much too late that this is exactly what happened. His sheepish expression soothes some of Bandit’s anger, though it does nothing to improve the situation. “You did say we could use whatever means necessary”, Shay chimes in good-naturedly and Bandit belatedly understands how in the world these five usually land in these kinds of situations.

“Not only did you fucking violate the law, but you also ogled my boyfriend in order to tell me that ultimately nothing happened?”

They exchange uncertain glances until Valenti of all people attempts to appease him: “Well, we figured -”

“Fuck off. Don’t talk to me again unless it’s urgent, and if you miss me so much that you can’t bear living without me yelling at you, text me. Got it?” His razor sharp tone has them all nod and flee into different directions, leaving him to consider just aborting the entire mission.

But no. He has to get revenge.

The infuriating incompetence at least does have a positive side effect – he’s not only awake but also riled up enough to tongue punch Jäger into never-never land, and when he returns to a long body prettily stretched out on the bed, one hand wrapped around a very interested member, he only needs to grit out a turn around to spark a smile full of anticipation.

He still closes the curtains for good measure.

.

When it comes down to it, it’s Jäger’s fault. He fed Bandit genuine laughs, secretive grins and all the attention he could ever ask for whenever he let the other German in on a joke, and over time Bandit got used to it: shenanigans mean admiration, a few stolen kisses here and there, a re-telling both excited and exaggerated, and even pride. Jäger used to be proud of his innovations, all the creative ways in which he terrorised those around him. Therefore, when Bandit changes all of Blitz’ personalised ring tones to – as he finds – fitting alternatives and merely garners a crushing, accusing look together with a devastating sigh, his world view crumbles.

Admittedly, it did take Blitz an entire weekend to set up the system Bandit single-handed destroyed during two afternoons. Admittedly, most of the song choices were in poor taste and some of them genuinely offensive, but that doesn’t make them any less funny, does it? And admittedly, maybe, just maybe choosing Weird Al’s ‘Fat’ for Rook when the Frenchie only recently voiced wanting to lose a few pounds was a tad misguided. Especially when Blitz hadn’t noticed Bandit’s stunt and asked Rook to call him to locate his misplaced phone.

Well. Alright. Maybe he did deserve the tired look Jäger gave him.

But after that? No matter how hard he tried to impress him, how much of a menace he was, he never managed to regain Jäger’s favour. Instead, he got a talk.

Please stop, was the baseline. Don’t play pranks anymore. Focus on other, more constructive activities. Stop wasting all these resources on messing with people.

And so Bandit stopped. Not because Jäger told him, obviously, but without his partner in crime it just wasn’t fun anymore. It took most of his self-discipline not to tamper with Rook’s new shoes – heelies, of all things, it would’ve been child’s play to make him eat shit – and leave Mute’s new jammer prototype alone, despite him forgetting to lock it away one day. God, it could’ve been glorious. Bandit could’ve strapped it onto Diana and declare her a denial of service dog.

But no, he didn’t even want to mess around anymore anyway, and if he stretched towards Jäger’s resulting affection like a sunflower, it merely was a pleasant side effect. If only the others didn’t notice.

Smoke was the first. Out of boredom, he taped the kitchen door shut and texted Bandit about Monika having baked fresh brownies, then recorded him enthusiastically giving himself a black eye, and Bandit couldn’t retaliate. Because that night was going to be the fourth night in a row on which Jäger would pet his hair until he’s asleep which he’d never really done before, and Bandit wasn’t going to let anything get in the way.

Then Mute hacked his phone and literally every link led to fucking Rick Astley and every time Bandit typed ‘I’, his keyboard replaced it with the entire lyrics to the song, and Bandit still couldn’t take revenge because Jäger was in the middle of watching a series together with Bandit despite not being super into it, and he didn’t want to finish it alone.

And when a handful of others got wind of being immune to his wrath, it turned into hell. People openly approached him to criticise the way he led his team during a training exercise, and sure, he did a shite job due to acute laziness, but who does that? Others let him know they appreciated all the extra care he put in during their most recent mission and fucking Christ, if they don’t even stop shy of compliments, he might as well quit because what’s even left of him in that case? Horrifying.

Obviously, he keeps track of every misdeed. Just in case Jäger gets deployed for a few weeks, allowing him to punish all the wrongdoers. Even if he has the feeling he’d be too distracted to really make it count in that case.

But Sledge puts the cherry on top. One day, he pulls Bandit aside and says a few things which are inexcusable. Unforgivable. And thus, Bandit hatches a plan.

.

They have breakfast in a small café together with Smoke and Mute, both of whom immediately expressed the wish to tag along when Bandit mentioned his plans to go on a short holiday to the beautiful Western coast of Italy and who is he to turn down their company (especially when they potentially distract Jäger, allowing him some breathing room)? The Brits share the vacation house next to theirs and Bandit just hopes they didn’t notice the early morning commotion, but then again it seems as if Mute ensured they haven’t noticed much since their arrival.

“I’m going to eat fucking ten of these overpriced cardboard pastries”, he announces mid-chew and chases down the second half of Smoke’s cornetto with a sip of Jäger’s coffee before anyone can stop him.

“Babe”, Smoke tries to gently reason with him and earns a wild glare.

“Don’t ‘babe’ me, not my fault they fold up the footpaths at night, I’m starving.” He gestures to the vaguely horrified-looking waiter to bring more sustenance and finishes Jäger’s latte in one go.

“If I’d stayed up all bloody night high on energy drinks I’d be starving too”, Smoke mutters with a helpless shake of the head which alright, that explains both Mute’s manic restlessness as well as the bags under Smoke’s eyes.

“Are you sure you should be getting more caffeine?”, Bandit wants to know dubiously and realises too late that the young lad’s gaze is worryingly unfocused.

“Huh?”, he makes and it’s obvious he hasn’t been following anyone’s conversation but his own so far. “Bloody hell, if this horrifically sweet stuff is all they eat for breakfast it’s no wonder Seamus is getting fat. I’ll ask whether they have bacon. They must have bacon. Right? Everyone has bacon. Or sausages at least. Fucking cold cuts, anything. Maybe there’s a salt shortage going on in Italy, though the people definitely had more than enough. Bacon.”

The other three stare after him as he makes a beeline towards the poor guy stuck serving them. “I would be salty, too, if some asshole insisted on New York style pizza being better than the original”, Smoke points out drily.

“Is he gonna be alright?” So far, Bandit has witnessed Mute on caffeine overdose (result: the attention span of a squirrel), sleep deprivation (result: endless ideas better suited for a mad scientist, particularly terrifying coming from someone who can actually implement most of them), and excessive hunger (result: an exceedingly sharp tongue plus an infinite supply of irritation), yet never all three together. He has to admit, it’s a sight to behold.

Smoke shrugs. “The crash is gonna be hilarious, no lie. He did tell me he hates energy drinks but didn’t specify why. Had I known, I would’ve put up more of a fight.”

Just as Mute returns triumphantly with an entire plate of fried eggs probably meant for all of them despite him making no move to share, Bandit notices that Jäger has been unusually quiet ever since they’ve left the house – and it’s even odder that he’s just watching Bandit with a small smile. Does he… does he know about his plan? Is he suspecting something? “What?”, Bandit asks defensively.

The smile widens. Uh oh. “Nothing. I’m just happy we’re here.”

Abort mission, abort mission. “Yeah, me too, and isn’t it a shame Elias and Julien have to rot at base without -”

“I was really surprised when you made the suggestion to come here, I would never have expected anything like this from you.”

“Well, we’re here now and we should make a list of everything that’s bad so we can annoy Maestro when we’re -”

“But it’s wonderful. The house is pretty, the beach is gorgeous and the town picturesque. It’s really romantic and I like it here. A lot.”

Bandit just laughs nervously. His face is on fire and he has to get out of this as soon as possible. Maybe he should split up the dumb recruits and have two of them watch him so he can give them a secret signal whenever a situation like this happens because holy shit, this is -

“Even so, you could’ve chosen any place and it would’ve been great, just because you’d be there. Thank you, Dom.”

He’s scarlet. Across the table, Mute is still stuck in the motion of salting his eggs while gaping at the two of them, unaware he’s created a veritable heap crowning one of the yolks by now. Jäger continues to smile at him and there’s no way he can bear another second of this. “I have to take a piss”, he declares loudly before fleeing to the men’s where he sits down on the lid, trying to will away the blood from his cheeks. Maybe coming here was a mistake after all.

To distract himself from the odd sensation in his stomach, he checks his phone and finds a message from Valenti: two lovebirds heading to the water, unsure how to interfere.

Alright. At least he can do something on this front. Once he’s cooled off a little, he returns to Mute nearly dunking half an egg into Smoke’s glass and Jäger observing them with a shit eating grin. “We should go to the beach afterwards”, he suggests and tries his best not to react to the hand straying to his thigh as soon as he’s sat down.

.

It wasn’t pickpocketing per se. Not really, because the odd object was half sticking out of Sledge’s trousers anyway, screaming to be taken. A rectangular box, while not too bulky, definitely not made for being carried around in front pockets for an entire day, and so Bandit merely… relieved the Scotsman of this burden. After all, he might’ve lost it otherwise and who knows how valuable it is. Better keep it safe for him than fill him with panic when he can’t find it and has to retrace his steps.

Bandit can’t deny it came at a pretty fucking opportune time seeing as he’d been obsessing about vengeance for Sledge’s uncalled-for insults, and so he nicked the velvety item without thinking and, as he hopes, without anyone noticing. For once, having to sit next to Sledge during meetings paid off. He’s patient for the rest of the day, carries his prize around without taking a proper look in case anyone catches him, yet when he opens it at home, he blanches.

Oh the possibilities.

For a few seconds, his mind is filled with delicious scenarios, one better than the other: replace the ring with one from a bubblegum dispenser. Replace it with bees. Add a noisemaker which produces a fart sound whenever the box is opened. Superglue it so it can’t be taken out. The more he thinks, the more absurd his ideas become: have it reduced in size. Engrave it with a random name. Coat it in a substance which dyes skin for weeks.

It’s a really tasteful ring. If he’s honest, it’s gorgeous. At the same time, he knows Maestro will flip the fuck out no matter what it looks like because it’s the act that counts, the intention.

Not only that, but Sledge is certain to inspect the entire box with extreme prejudice once he gets it back, and if he identifies any tampering, Bandit is dead meat.

“You dropped this yesterday”, he says the day after and hands the box back.

Sledge, as expected, examines it thoroughly before nodding – he doesn’t even hide it and alright, that’s fair. Given Bandit’s history of messing with him, he wouldn’t even bat an eye at Sledge sending it in to some lab. “Thanks”, he replies, and Bandit isn’t even offended at the astonishment in his voice. “What do you think? Do you like it?”

Relationships really do turn most people into utter fools if Sledge deems it a fruitful idea to ask Bandit for his opinion. Fortunately, he’s very different. He’d never change himself just because of Jäger or fall into the trap of hopeless, helpless infatuation. He’s always in control. “It’d be way too small for me”, he shoots back, unimpressed, “but hey, you measured it, so I’m sure Maestro will love his new cock ring.”

The genuine laugh he gets in return tells him that Sledge really has it bad. “I’m planning to propose to him on our trip to Italy next month”, he foolishly divulges and Bandit’s eyebrows shoot up.

“Oh?”, he prompts politely. “Tell me more.”

.

If looks could kill, Bandit would’ve dropped dead the instant Sledge catches sight of him. He would’ve spontaneously combusted and his ashes been blown away by the wind, because the Scotsman must know instantly that he’s up to something, judging by how the sun itself darkens along with his mood. He’s stretched out on a towel on the beautiful fine-grained white sand, shielded from the harsh sunlight by a large parasol and ready to wring Bandit’s neck.

“What? How?”, Mute is still going on, not having recovered from this remarkable coincidence. “It’s impossible that we end up in the same vacation spot by pure chance!”

“Yes”, Sledge grits out. “Impossible.”

“Adriano recommended this place to us”, Smoke jumps in and Bandit owes him so many drinks, “and I thought you were gonna visit his family?” Some of Sledge’s suspicion fades, even if Jäger throws Bandit a curious glance. He still needs to be careful, so he keeps quiet.

“This… isn’t a set-up? You’re not up to anything?”, Sledge wants to know accusingly and Bandit just snorts.

“Of course not, as if I didn’t have anything better to do in my free time. Are you getting paranoid?”

Sledge looks like he has a few choice words to say, but when Maestro joins them, his attention snaps to him like metal to a magnet – not like Bandit could blame him, not with the Italian’s tan skin glistening all over and his dangerously short swimming trunks clinging to his body. Bandit takes note of this: should he ever need to divert the Scot’s attention, he merely needs to dump some water over his boyfriend.

“Amici miei! What a wonderful surprise, how great to see you!”, Maestro greets them warmly and smooches their cheeks, in the process getting all of them wet, and then turns to where Mute is chasing seagulls while screeching along with them. “What, uh, what happened with my cucciolo?”

“He’ll tire himself out”, Smoke assures him with a sigh.

“How do you like it here? I will show you everything! Isn’t it such a fortunate coincidence, cioccolatino?”

“Marvellous”, says Sledge.

“We can spend all our time together and I will teach you the most important phrases!”

And while the Scotsman looks like he bit into a lemon, Mute rushes over to detail all the sand castles he’ll build.

.

No more than five minutes later, the youngest Brit is already conked out and snoring softly on the very towel Sledge had occupied previously, and when he seems to be wholly unperturbed by the others talking around him, they set up their own beach equipment and share their experiences and impressions of Maestro’s home country. He seems genuinely delighted over their presence, unlike Sledge, and generously shares anecdotes about this particular holiday favourite. Normally, Bandit would rather chew off his own leg than allow the Italian to chew off his ear, but Jäger’s holding his hand and so he really has no other choice. Besides, his lover seems stoked over the opportunity to ask about everything local and his enthusiasm is contagious. At least a little bit.

Eventually, the group breaks up a little, with Sledge announcing his intention to go for a walk along the beach with Maestro, and Jäger urging Bandit to go swimming as well. He shoots Ivan Ivanovic a message about keeping an eye on the unlikely couple and interrupting them should the atmosphere become a little too amorous, and notices a text from Rook: the Frenchman seems to be making the most out of being stuck in Hereford and challenges the holidaymakers in a group chat to snap the best ‘out of context’ selfie they can. Attached is a peace-signing Rook in the foreground, with a half-naked Buck getting his chest hair shaved behind him, looking not at all amused with a doubled-over Valkyrie.

Half a minute later, Blitz contributes by sending a photo of him giving a cheery thumbs-up, while Rook in the background is apparently getting yelled at by a half-shaven Buck. Days since the last superglue accident: 0, Blitz adds.

Bandit, despite being highly entertained, silently vows to upstage him, upstage all of them really, even if he hasn’t figured out how yet.

“At least he’s prepared if he wants to compete with Meghan in the pool again”, Jäger comments good-naturedly, following the chat on his own phone. He turns around to photograph himself grinning while also capturing Smoke drawing a dick on his boyfriend’s unconscious body with sun cream. “You guys are cute”, he adds inexplicably.

Smoke takes one look at the drooling man haphazardly flung onto the fabric, shirt riding up enough to expose a canvas for him to abuse, and nods. “I’ve never loved another human being more”, he responds gravely and adds a few cum spurts shooting from the tip.

“Give the balls some hair too”, Jäger suggests sweetly before dragging Bandit off towards the splashing waves.

The hot sand burns their soles, so they awkwardly skip towards the sea, tackling each other once they’re largely submerged and nearly lose the beach ball they brought. Bandit supposes it’s a bad time to mention how he never really liked going on holiday, figures it’s usually more effort than it’s worth, and hanging around at the beach all day not having anything to do seems like a massive waste of time – but since his presence here has purpose and the cogs in his head never stop turning, it’s actually not that bad. He keeps one eye on the couple strolling along the beautiful shore, almost far enough away that he can’t see them anymore, and focuses the rest of his attention on Jäger.

Because dear God.

He belatedly understands Sledge’s distraction upon seeing his boyfriend emerge from the sea, cheeks rosy, rivulets running down exposed skin, playful smile plastered on his face and -

- and there’s an entire pack of dogs swarming Sledge and Maestro in the distance.

Bandit stares because what else is there to do? It looks as if all stray dogs from the region had assembled to circle the two, jump up and apparently try to slobber all over them, and while his brain is still trying to process the view, he gets thwacked in the head full force by the beach ball, losing his footing in the process.

He’s still coughing up salt water as Jäger drags him towards the sand, unsuccessfully trying to stifle his laughter and apologising simultaneously. He should be more upset, seeing as not only did the recruits choose one of the flashiest ways of bothering Sledge again, but also he’s got a headache now and his lungs are burning, he will probably end up with a nasty sunburn on his scalp as he refuses to wear any kind of hat, keeps stepping on sharp seashells, hates the way sun lotion feels on his skin and despises the taste of tangy water – but when they trip and fall, and his field of vision is filled with nothing but Jäger, and his lover smiles and quietly asks whether he needs CPR, and when there’s warm lips on his own cool ones, none of it really seems that dramatic.

.

Mute is awake and has aged by ten years as they return, but at least he seems to have mellowed out considerably – even though he doesn’t look at all amused with the jellyfish Smoke keeps lining up next to their shadowy spot. “Can someone tell him that sleeping for sixteen hours is a worthwhile activity?”, Mute sighs, massaging his temples.

“If I hadn’t sent you out to get some food, you wouldn’t have let me sleep last night either, babe. Stay up till evening and reset your sleep schedule.”

“I’ll reset your fucking schedule if you don’t stop with these stupid gelatine blobs. We’re not taking one home and that’s final.”

“Glad to see everyone else also enjoying their holiday!”, Jäger pipes up cheerfully while towelling himself dry. “But what happened to you two?”

Sledge, sipping what looks suspiciously like coffee instead of his usual tea, glances down at his scratched up legs, at Maestro’s paw print covered loafers as well as the general dirt smeared over them, and replies flatly: “We’ve gone to the dogs.”

“This has been a really odd trip so far”, Maestro adds, “the first evening we couldn’t turn off any of the lights in our house though they switched off by themselves some time during the night. Just this morning, we were approached by policemen about allegedly causing a disturbance even though I’m fairly sure we had the curtains closed the entire time -”

“He’s referring to the fact that he likes to sleep naked”, Sledge hastens to explain due to several pairs of eyebrows shooting up at this comment.

“Then someone threw a few Playboy magazines through the letter slot, and just now we became an irresistible attraction for the local wildlife.”

“It’s almost as if someone was up to something.”

And while the others continue discussing these odd and unfortunate turns of events, Bandit pretends he missed Sledge’s meaningful comment.

“I think I’ve got sunburn on my hands”, Smoke mutters to himself as Jäger and Maestro encourage each other to come up with the most complicated conspiracy theory which would explain all that’s happened to the happy couple, with Sledge merely shaking his head. “They’re pretty red.”

“Why don’t you tell me about your collection”, Mute prompts tiredly and indicates the shrivelling, dead creatures by Smoke’s feet.

“You see, most of them are just see-through slime, but this one is real pretty. Looks like an omelette almost, don’t you think, babe?”

Mute blinks slowly. “Go and buy some vinegar with Adriano, will you? Doesn’t matter what kind, and don’t ask.”

The suggestion makes most of them spring into action as Jäger was considering heading out for lunch anyway, yet he lingers when everyone but Mute and Bandit trail after a happily bubbling Maestro. “Don’t you think it’s weird that all these things happen to the two of them?”, he asks and it takes all of Bandit’s willpower and focus not to smirk. “You’re not up to anything, are you?”

“Of course not”, he promises as sincerely as decades of professional lying allow it, and sends his boyfriend off with a kiss to his nose.

Once he’s out of earshot, Mute mumbles: “You’re absolutely up to something, aren’t you?”

“Of course I am”, he scoffs and blames it on the energy drinks that it took Mute this long to realise.

“It’s a fucking fried egg jellyfish”, Mute explains without being prompted. “Nothing serious, but the bloody idiot is probably gonna feel it for a few days.”

“Why didn’t you tell him?”

“And have him start early with asking me to piss on his hands? No thank you.”

.

~*~

.

“To be fair”, Valenti, the little fucker, tries to justify himself, “you didn’t say not to use perfume bombs.”

The effects of just 24 hours of Italian air are noticeable on the five recruits: Valenti has gotten even cockier than usual and revels in the warm weather, Shay has turned a lovely shade of lobster red, Jojo has bought a new wardrobe and, remarkably, looks just as fashionable as Maestro, Gian is distracted by everything and anything around him, visibly enjoying himself and writing novellas into his notebook, and even Ivan Ivanovic is smiling. If only Bandit himself felt the soothing touch of the country, he probably wouldn’t be this close to shaking some sense into the confident tiny Frenchman.

“You’re extremely lucky Seamus isn’t into crossdressing or any of that shite, because his soon-to-be fiancé smelling of several whorehouses at once caters pretty well to these fantasies and would’ve set him off, and then you’d have to keep two randy lovebirds apart and not just two sappy ones.”

“How do you know that’d happen?”, Jojo chimes up curiously.

The five of them are eating ice cream while sitting on the stone balustrade separating the promenade from the beach below and Bandit develops the sudden urge to toss the other German off it. “Look”, he starts and immediately gets interrupted by Shay smushing his face into his chocolate ice and Gian starting to giggle uncontrollably.

“The hell are you doing?”, Valenti wants to know, aghast, and rolls his eyes at Ivan’s reply: “I told him milk good for sunburn. Takes off heat.”

“I do feel much better already!”

Jojo grabs the cone out of the Irishman’s hand and sticks it against Shay’s forehead. “Shame you’re not called Shaun because now you’d be a uni-shaun.” Without any hesitation, he leans in and starts licking the ice cream off of Shay’s cheek, causing him to squeal and wield his damaged cone like a weapon and mere seconds later, they’re having a lightsaber fight in the middle of the fortunately empty street, with Valenti acting as referee.

Bandit’s earlier headache is starting to come back, and this time he’s sure it’s not related to heat stroke.

“Like children”, Ivan comments. He’s still got that smile on his face.

“Regardless of how we might achieve the goal you set for us”, Gian addresses Bandit, “our reward remains unclaimed. You’re confident you can procure it?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll get you what you want, provided you guys keep your end of the -” And then he’s cut off by a screaming Shay colliding with him full force, sending him stumbling and dangerously close to the low banister but not yet over – though when he tries to turn and yell, Jojo joins the dogpile and sends them flying.

.

Jäger looks fucking gorgeous when Bandit returns to their cottage, shorts and boots really hitting the spot and if he complains about having forgotten lighter shoes one more time, Bandit is going to show him just what he thinks of his outfit by having him keep it on as he blows both him and his mind. Thoughts like this one have become second nature and he’s still not entirely sure how.

“Don’t touch me, I need a shower”, he warns his lover before he can wrap around Bandit the way he usually does, no matter how long he’s been gone, “I’ve got sand everywhere, even up my arse crack.”

“What did you do?”

“Slipped and fell on the beach. And other people might’ve also slipped and fallen on me.”

“Odd. Seamus had ice cream tossed at him from inside a bush.”

“Huh. Did he find out by whom?”

“It was a thorn bush, so he stayed away from it.” Yikes. Bandit feels like his conscience shouldn’t be as clear as it is, but on the other hand he’s largely paying for their trip. So if he gets free entertainment out of it, he’s not going to complain. “Look, Elias and Julien sent another selfie.”

On screen, the happy couple is smooching in front of Echo sleeping on one of the workshop tables, with a variety of objects stacked on top of him in an impressive display of balancing skills. Next to him, Dokkaebi is showcasing a veritably demonic grin, much to Hibana’s concern. “Cute”, Bandit comments sarcastically yet it seems Jäger takes him at face value.

“Right? I still don’t understand why you kept gagging next to them when they were freshly together. They’re so good for each other.”

And he’s never understood how Jäger can support kitsch on four legs this openly. “This might come as a shock to you, but I’m not really the romantic type.”

The knowing smirk following his statement is what drives him away, ears burning, and it’s still adorning soft lips when Jäger joins him in the shower a few minutes later.

.

~*~

.

“Mutiny”, Bandit repeats after a grave-looking Jojo. “Are you taking the fucking piss?”

“We’ve spent almost three days of constant surveillance, spontaneous action, consistent communication as well as doing a remarkably good job, if I may say so”, Valenti jumps in, eager to support his mate, “and you’ve not met your end of the deal.”

They’re huddled behind the very stone balustrade which has painted Bandit’s back a hideous shade of yellowish-green due to an acute case of getting bodychecked over it, and he’s beginning to feel like a repeat performance is preferable over dealing with these numbskulls. “My end of the deal?”, he parrots in disbelief. “I’ve paid for your fucking vacation, you ungrateful little shits, and all you’ve done is ruin their holiday.”

“I wouldn’t go that far -”

“Well I fucking would. You nearly gave Seamus food poisoning, caused him to fall into the sea, harassed him with prank calls which weren’t even remotely funny -”

“Billy’s roadkill diner – you kill ‘em, we grill ‘em”, Shay interjects cheerily, earning a snort and an addition from Jojo: “You frag ‘em, we bag ‘em!”

“- and you even egged Maestro’s favourite shirt.”

“That was little funny”, Ivan Ivanovic butts in, and alright, the string of expletives exploding out of the hot-blooded Italian was admittedly hilarious, especially when even Sledge seemed genuinely scandalised over some of them.

Still, he’s understood by now that engaging any of the clowns leads to madness, so he simply keeps talking. “Besides, what the fuck do you want me to do about a Scot who flat out refuses to take off his shirt at the beach? I can hardly go and undress him, can I?”

“You could show creativity, like we have. Aren’t you supposed to be resourceful?”

If this had come from anyone but the Russian, Bandit might’ve slapped some sense into them, yet this gives him pause. “I mean – I tried, but he wouldn’t budge. Why is this so fucking important to you anyway, are you that bloody horny?”

Jojo looks ready to hold an entire speech as to why it’s crucial for mankind’s survival that they witness the buff Scotsman shed his shirt, but fortunately it’s Gian who speaks up instead: “I cannot help but feel your heart is not in this endeavour.” How fucking dare he. “You informed us of your wish to exert revenge, yet your glee has been muted, your undertakings half-hearted and your satisfaction with our actions astonishingly low.”

Bullshit. Bandit enjoyed watching the one guy suffer who usually throws wrenches into his plans, who reprimands him constantly and sabotages his pranks – it was extremely satisfying, he enjoyed it so much that he’d say it was the best part of his holiday so far.

…he would say that, wouldn’t he? And simultaneously know he’d be wrong.

Because his focus really wasn’t on Sledge, and with passed time it’s gotten harder and harder for Bandit to remind himself of why Sledge’s words stung so much. Why what he said sent Bandit into a white hot fit of rage.

Five pairs of eyes are staring at him expectantly. They might’ve gone about it arseways, but they did indeed accomplish what he asked of them, to the best of their capabilities. They even managed not to get caught, and while there’s no doubt someone is up to something, no one has been able to prove it was Bandit, even if Sledge, Smoke and Mute continuously side-eye him.

Maybe he should call the whole thing off after all and enjoy what’s left of his holiday.

“Give me a minute”, he asks and thankfully, all of them nod. When it comes down to it, they’ve proven reliable in the way a thunderstorm is – no way of telling when the next lightning strikes, but thunder always follows. Besides, now that they’ve overcome their terror of speaking with him, their natural banter reminds him of the familial atmosphere of his own team. Fuck. He’s starting not to mind them, even if they look like vaguely reverent meerkats staring up at him for any kind of signal as he paces back and forth next to them.

This is when he spots Sledge and Maestro, a short distance away from where Jäger, Smoke and Mute are building a proper sand fort: they’re holding hands, facing each other and seem to be deeply moved and fucking shite, it’s the perfect atmosphere with the gentle sea retreating in low tide behind them, the sun sliding lower and lower and flooding the beach in a warm, orange light. Sledge is gonna go down on one knee any second now and Bandit has no way of stopping them.

Shay must’ve noticed the horror in his expression as he peeks over the banister and immediately rips open Valenti’s backpack. “Code red”, he announces more professionally than he’s ever sounded in his entire career, stands up and -

And lobs a water balloon at the two lovebirds. A water balloon which bursts upon impact with Sledge’s broad chest, no doubt interrupting their little moment. A water balloon filled with neon yellow paint.

There’s a second of perfect silence.

Then Shay throws a second one.

In an impressive demonstration of his skills, Sledge catches it without it detonating in his hands and hurls it back full force, a detail the other four recruits quite obviously missed as they rise to get a better look, and when the second paint bomb explodes on the balustrade in front of them, literally all five end up coated in hot pink, with Bandit only suffering a light dose.

Well. That could’ve gone better. For another brief moment, the spattered recruits, Bandit, and the eye-wateringly yellow couple stare at each other.

“You fuckers”, Maestro then screams, and Sledge yells: “Dom, you little prick!” And the recruits and Bandit exchange a single glance before individually coming to the conclusion that an escape is in order. Especially when the two star-crossed lovers start running.

Shay shrieks like a little girl, Ivan takes a brief moment to wipe some of the paint off Valenti’s eyes with the inside of his shirt, and Jojo is already halfway down the street. Bandit is in great company. Gian nearly gets run over by a scooter and apologises in fluid Italian, Bandit slides over the hood of an expensive-looking car and leaves behind frankly hideous pink streaks, and Ivan seems to consider scaling the nearest building while Valenti is still coughing up paint. Shay trips and gets dragged along by Gian, and together the six of them scramble their way through the picturesque seaside town, garnering more than a few odd looks from the locals.

“Whose fucking idea was this?!”, Bandit wants to know and struggles to make it up the steep stairs to another busy road, though he does appreciate Ivan lending him a hand eventually.

“I didn’t think he’d catch it”, Valenti admits between breaths.

“He played fucking rugby, you moron!”

“May I suggest postponing this argument and instead focusing on the task at hand?”

“This colour actually suits you, Jojo, did you know?”

“Let us make left here, come on.”

“Jesus fucking Christ”, Bandit mumbles to himself though he can’t curse away the rush of endorphins in his system – he’s started to become complacent, and though Jäger will no doubt be disappointed in him, he’s missed this, the chaos, the knowledge of doing something forbidden, the guilty laughter bursting out of them now and then as they weave their way through alleys and between cars. He wastes no thought on what’s going to happen once they’ve successfully evaded their pursuers, right now he’s preoccupied with feeling the wind in his hair, jumping obstacles, running with the pack, rushing around corners and -

And apparently colliding with what feels like a brick wall. Something that doesn’t look like one though. Because it’s neon yellow.

“I will fucking castrate you and shove your own balls so far up your ass you’ll be able to taste them”, Maestro growls while Sledge causes another pile-up next to him by letting the recruits bounce off him easily.

It seems like this is it.

“How on earth are you so fast?”, Shay wants to know with wide eyes as the five of them take turns shoving each other to the front to face the Scotsman glaring daggers.

“Shouldn’t have let the one guy among you with no sense of direction lead”, Sledge explains. All eyes slide over to Jojo whose face starts matching the paint he’s covered in.

“Who’s the ringleader here?”, Maestro demands to know. All eyes slide back over to Bandit.

“It was a group effort?”, he tries.

“Will you let us live if we tell you?” Hell, he really should’ve gotten rid of this French gremlin sooner. A single nod from Sledge, and now five fingers are pointing at Bandit.

“Look”, he begins and gets interrupted by being slammed into the wall next to him, and it’ll be a miracle if the furious Italian lets him get away with mere bruises, though fortunately a hand on Maestro’s arm stops him.

“Adrianito. Let him go.” Sledge’s intervention is welcome yet Bandit’s relief short-lived when the two of them part to reveal the rest of their group: Mute and Smoke who are only missing popcorn, judging by the unadulterated amusement in their expressions – and Jäger.

A very unimpressed-looking Jäger. This is worse than a few bruises. He pushes to the front, brow raised and demeanour so calm it instils paralysing fear. For the first time ever since they came here, there’s not even a hint of a smile on his lips and it does unpleasant things to Bandit’s insides. He wasn’t meant to prank anyone, let alone follow Sledge and Maestro like this just to terrorise them. Whatever will come out of his lover’s mouth next is sure to be devastating.

“What were you doing?”, Jäger asks quietly. So far, so good. Around them, everyone seems to be holding their breath.

It’s the perfect opportunity. Seeing as Bandit won’t be able to interfere anymore after this, he could mention his plan off-handedly, complete his revenge by spoiling the surprise waiting in Sledge’s pocket. He can see it in Sledge’s eyes that he knows it too: a few words, and he’d be forced to show the ring, do it all on Bandit’s terms. He holds power over the Scot he never thought possible, and even if he doesn’t ruin his proposal right now, he could use it as an excellent source of blackmail later. The idea of Sledge having to do whatever he wants is more than enticing. “Annoying the hell out of him”, he replies, buying himself time. Sledge’s hazel eyes are boring into his.

Jäger just shakes his head a little. “And, what, were you planning on following them to his parent’s place too?”

Maestro senses his hesitation and though he hasn’t overcome his animosity, he doesn’t leave Bandit in the dark: “My mamma invited us for a family reunion. We’re leaving tomorrow morning and spending the rest of the week with my family.”

Oh. He didn’t know this, their plans must’ve changed since he talked to Sledge about their vacation. It’d be lovely. He pictures it, Sledge kneeling down, surrounded by Maestro’s relatives, all of them freaking out and cooing over them. It sounds heart-warming. And he could destroy it with a single sentence. If he doesn’t do it now, the two will be gone tomorrow and he’ll have missed his chance.

“Well”, he says. Jäger looks ready to cross his arms. “I hope you two have a great time.”

And Sledge gets it. His smile speaks volumes, he relaxes and even graces Bandit with a slight nod. Despite how much they clash the rest of the time, Bandit doesn’t want to do this to him, not like this. There are other methods he can employ without messing with Sledge’s love life and potentially ruin what could’ve been a wonderful memory.

Even so, he’s not out of the shite yet, there are still five recruits looking like they’re going to be gutted any second now, a seething Italian just waiting for his signal to rip them apart, and Jäger. So far, he’s not done one of his sighs. There is hope.

“Why did you do all this?”, he wants to know and Bandit realises something belatedly: namely just how truly fucked he is. Conveniently forgetting about this little detail, he pushed it to the back of his mind, merely holding on to his rage about Sledge’s words yet ignoring their content. His gaze snaps to Sledge and oh boy, how the tables have turned.

.

You’ve been behaving well recently, Sledge said to him that fateful day Bandit swore revenge at all costs. It’s Marius’ influence, isn’t it?

Bandit grumbled a little, waved him off, tried to change the topic but Sledge wasn’t having any of it: Have you told him you love him?

And fucking Christ, how presumptuous could any one person be? Not only wasn’t it his business, but also was he plain wrong. One fact Bandit had accepted long ago was that he cared about no one but himself. His life was littered with selfish decisions, no matter how much he tried to care, tried to hold on. Ultimately, the only one he ever protected was himself. He said something along those lines, unusually earnest with his nemesis, and felt more than just irritation rise in him when he received the response: Stop running from him and ask him to move in with you.

Preposterous. Frankly insulting. And Bandit silently vowed to have Sledge’s head for this.

.

“Oh well, who cares, just yell at me and let’s move on, alright?”, he hastens to change the topic and doesn’t miss Sledge’s grin amid everyone’s bewilderment.

Jäger doesn’t seem happy with this answer. “What do you mean? You can’t tell me there was no reason for you to pull this shite.”

“He pissed me off, I wanted revenge, here we are, now let’s stop dwelling on the past and -”

“What did you do?”, his boyfriend turns to the Scotsman in question, fuelling Bandit’s panic.

“Don’t ask him, he probably doesn’t even -”

“Be quiet. If you won’t give me an answer, Dom, let him.”

This is bad. Bandit’s and Sledge’s eyes meet and he’s well aware to be completely at his mercy – and he doesn’t harbour much hope, not after the past three days of constant torment, not after he very nearly spoiled their holiday. The recruits are holding their breath, neither of them fully aware of what’s going on but Bandit knows they treat the members of Rainbow like celebrities, so it must be exciting for them to witness drama like this up close. Smoke and Mute are following the conversation silently, gazes darting back and forth like in a tennis match, and Bandit wouldn’t be surprised if they’d placed bets on the outcome. Maestro has postponed his fury, though he’s clearly waiting for his time to lay into pretty much anyone involved.

Sledge seems to have made a decision and there’s no way in hell he’s not disclosing Bandit’s innermost thoughts to the world. He simply has to take this opportunity to humiliate him, uncover the secret he carries in his heart, waiting for the perfect moment to reveal it. He fixes Bandit with a level stare and says: “I insulted his bike.”

A beat.

Oh, thinks Bandit.

“You did what?!” And suddenly, Jäger’s composure has vanished. “How dare you! It’s a piece of art!”

Like a real trooper, Sledge keeps it up. “I called it a death trap waiting to happen and the decals juvenile.”

“Luce dei miei occhi, you can’t be serious!” Unbelievably, even Maestro looks offended. “It has fire, spirit, passion – that motorcycle has a soul, who are you to call it names!”

“I bet you’ve never even ridden it, it sounds like a large cat purring”, Smoke chimes in as well now, and all of a sudden, nearly everyone is directing their ire at Sledge who admittedly takes it like a champ. It’s a miracle. And Bandit instantly forgives him everything he’s ever done, from uncovering his candy related Ponzi scheme which not only involved Rainbow’s recruits but even spread to the SAS ones, to winning against him in hand to hand literally every time. He can’t believe it, merely gapes at the outrage directed at Sledge of all people and vows to try and never cross the Scot again.

Even so, there’s something he still has to do. “We need to talk”, he quietly informs the very upset Jäger and gently drags him a few steps away from the loudly arguing group, ignoring Mute’s encouraging about time! and Smoke’s meaningful wink. For some reason it seems that pretty much all people present know more about Bandit’s emotions than he does, and though he should find this fact concerning, his mind is currently trying to wrap around what he’s about to say. It’s been a while since this particular phrase has left his mouth, indubitably much too long. He doesn’t use it nearly enough and is painfully aware, so now’s his chance.

He takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”

Jäger simply blinks at him. “What for?”

Now it’s Bandit’s turn to be gobsmacked. “Wha – for doing all this behind your back. For not listening to you. For almost ruining this holiday.”

His lover softens and shakes his head with a smile. “Dom. I knew you were up to something. I may be horribly in love, but that doesn’t mean I’m blind.” Bandit almost chokes on nothing. He what. “It was never about the stupid pranks, it was about them getting so elaborate that we spent less and less time together. I’m fine with you doing whatever as long as you pay enough attention to me. Which you have in the past days. I’m really happy with this vacation – and besides, you’re adorable when you’re shifty.”

Closing his mouth seems impossible at this point. “You – I’m -”

“We’re staying here for the rest of the week, right? So let’s make the most of it.”

The friendly, unguarded smile is killing him. Killing him. How can Jäger say – how can he stand there and just – it’s impossible, and his face is on fire yet again, and maybe, just maybe Sledge was spot on with what he said. He should stop running. For now, he merely nods, disarmed, and avoids Jäger’s much too intense gaze. There’s so much he still has to tell him, but it can wait. He doesn’t think there’ll be a shortage of romantic moments any time soon.

Looking towards the others, there’s at least one battle he can win. Maestro has switched to yelling at the poor recruits and doesn’t seem to notice anything else, so Bandit calls: “Seamus! Could you take your shirt off for me?”

.

The selfie Bandit posts in the group a minute later has him and Jäger in the foreground, lips touching and both ears crimson, but the background is pandemonium. A neon yellow Maestro is giving the splattered recruits a well-deserved bollocking, though neither of the five seems to be listening – instead, they’re staring over Maestro’s shoulder, eyes wide and transfixed on a shirtless Sledge who seems ready to humour anyone (probably courtesy of the fact that Bandit will leave him alone from now on) and is flexing for their benefit as well as showing off suspicious scratch marks and bruises all over his chiselled torso. Next to him, Mute has donned Sledge’s paint-soaked shirt and dragged his fingers through the viscous liquid to write TWAT on the bandages around Smoke’s hands, both of them beaming into the camera while making obscene gestures.

Blitz’ reply summarises the scene quite aptly: wtf, he writes and adds a row of appropriately dumbstruck emoji. Are those our recruits??

You guys are cute, is Rook’s contribution and for once, Bandit wholeheartedly agrees. And while he holds on to Jäger’s slim form, ignoring the chaos next to them and grinning at his lover’s suggestion of involving him in future plans so they can kill two birds with one stone, he decides to let the recruits enjoy the rest of their holiday unbothered.

After all, everyone deserves a bit of peace and quiet now and then. And it just so happens that he’s currently embracing his own.

[kyaranflowers]

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[vixxscifiwritings]

no such thing as separation

Taekwoon and Sanghyuk’s affections touch across time. Goodbyes are only meant for those who love with their eyes. For those who love with their heart and soul, there is no such thing as separation.

Rating - General

Major Warning - None

Minor Warning - A hella lotta fluff

Prompt - Time Travel

Word Count - 1850

Pairing/Characters - LeoHyuk

Tags - A whole lot of fluff, seriously, it is fluffy af, non chronological timeline, VIXX members appear as minor characters

-x-

“You’re here?” Sanghyuk asks, lifting his head up from the pillow. His eyes are firmly shut and his voice is barely audible. By the end of the question, he is back to dozing off.

“Yeah. Go back to sleep honey” Taekwoon says, running his hands through Sanghyuk’s hair.

“I missed you” Sanghyuk says, shifting and stretching his arms out. Taekwoon takes the cue to shrug the warm layers he is wearing off and gets into bed with the man.

“I missed you too love” Taekwoon says fondly. Sanghyuk has dozed off again and is starting to snore. His hair is messy and his lips parted, loose and relaxed.

The afternoon sun is blocked by the curtains. Orange in colour, even the dim light makes the room warm. Taekwoon is grateful. It’s winter where he was and the warmth is much needed. He feels the chill in his bones seep away as Sanghyuk’s body heat warms him up by mere proximity.

Taekwoon takes a deep breathe and closes his eyes. He still feels disoriented and the break is much necessary.

-x-

“Why did you let me oversleep?” Taekwoon complains as he steps out. It’s morning and he feels guilty for having slept more than fourteen hours away.

“Oversleep?” Hongbin asks in surprise. “You told me not to wake you up since your exams were done.”

“Oh yeah…” Taekwoon says sheepishly, wracking his brains for what timeline he is supposed to be in. He went to sleep in Sanghyuk’s bed just a few hours ago but he woke up with his old roommate and friend Hongbin. And if he is talking about exams then this must be senior year in undergrad.

“I think my last final frazzled my brain” he says with a huff, sitting down on the chair by the kitchen counter.

“I understand that feeling. I am really calculating if I need my degree at the moment” Hongbin laments.

“Well… someday you are going to be a leading expert on the subject” Taekwoon assures him. It isn’t the full truth because he can’t give away the future just like that. But it is genuine enough for it to be reassuring when required. Hongbin smiles at him ruefully before going back to the extra highlighted pages of his thick textbooks.

“Maybe you should get some food. I’m heading to the library for a last revision before my exam” Hongbin tells him. Taekwoon watches him go before slumping. He misses Sanghyuk thought he doesn’t even know the man yet.

-x-

“So… where is Taekwoon?” Hakyeon asks, placing the Thai food on the counter.

“Travelling for work” Sanghyuk tells him. It’s a blatant lie and Sanghyuk knows that Hakyeon can tell. Yet he has no better explanation. He feels a little guilty because he knows Hakyeon would love Taekwoon under normal conditions. But their situation isn’t ordinary and Hakyeon thinks that Taekwoon is a straight up flight risk and negligent boyfriend.

“He’s not around that much, is he?” Hakyeon asks with the raise of an eyebrow.

“He’s busy and I don’t mind” Sanghyuk shrugs.

“But doesn’t it get lonely?” Hakyeon asks curiously.

“He comes home to me at the end of the day. I think that’s enough” Sanghyuk says. Hakyeon doesn’t say more, heading to the kitchen to get plates and cutlery.

-x-

Sanghyuk tries not to overthink Hakyeon’s statement. The question haunts him for days on end.

It’s a struggle to keep himself from feeling this way. It’s unfair to feel alone knowing that Taekwoon doesn’t abandon him by choice but just because his powers are not under his control.

But it does raise more questions. Sanghyuk has this nagging voice at the back of his head which asks him if it is enough. Taekwoon lives his life in leaps and bounds whereas Sanghyuk takes linear chronological baby steps. What if Taekwoon runs so far ahead that Sanghyuk cannot catch up? What if he gets tired of someone so… so constant and unexcitable?

Sometimes Taekwoon tells him of his adventures. He rarely travels beyond his own life span and even more rarely to other places. But he has done so enough for him to have a collection of adventures locked away. Even if he can't tell anyone about it.

Sanghyuk compares it to his life. He barely travels away from the city. Heck he can't afford to take too many days off because he works on an hourly wage and every hour counts if he wants any savings at all.

Why isn't Taekwoon bored of him yet?

The empty house has no answers and the food he was eating suddenly has zero flavour. He wraps up his lunch and shoves into the refrigerator. The mechanical humming of the machine is the only sound that resonates in the tiny room.

-x-

When Taekwoon wakes up, his bones are singing. He recognizes the tattle tale sign that he has travelled again. His senses are on high alert, causing him to sit up from bed abruptly.

This is not the small flat in Seoul that he has lived in for all his life. The room is of different dimensions and is painted a vibrant yellow with drawings on the lower ends. Red and green crayons form a jarring contrast and this confuses Taekwoon.

Has he travelled beyond his lifespan again?

The date on the calendar tells him that he is ten years after where he last was. This must be seven years after meeting Sanghyuk then.

Taekwoon puts his feet off the bed and contemplates if there is a way that he can avoid touching the ground because this weird future might become a reality then.

“Appa! Appa!”

A small child, roughly four years old comes running into the room. Taekwoon panics. He is in the wrong house for sure and now he has been discovered. The view from the window doesn't look very high up. He can always jump out and never return to this district and just let the household assume he was a thief.

“Jiwoo! Your father is asleep!” Sanghyuk admonishes, following the small child into the room.

“Appa awake!” the child claims, holding his hands up so that Taekwoon can pick him up. Taekwoon hesitantly picks the child up and Sanghyuk makes a guilty face. When Taekwoon looks at Sanghyuk all of it clicks into place.

He's the father.

Sanghyuk is also the father.

This is their child.

They have a family.

Taekwoon's heart swells and is in sure danger of bursting from joy and pride. He has a family. He has a family with Sanghyuk. Sanghyuk. The man he loves. The man he is afraid he will lose because he is never around and surely Sanghyuk deserves better than an absentee boyfriend. But they have a family. They made it.

A shrill squeal is heard as Taekwoon squishes his son. His Jiwoo. Taekwoon hugs him tightly and coos at him. He even lifts Jiwoo and pretends to throw him up and around till Sanghyuk intervenes to scold him for how reckless he is being. But Taekwoon will be damned if he can stop smiling through the entire act.

He pulls Sanghyuk into bed too, just so that he can cuddle his family. His family. He hopes the elation he feels at the moment will never fade.

Sanghyuk picks up on the fact that something is different. Something is not quite right with this set up and the way he is behaving. Taekwoon gets a look saying they will be talking soon. That hasn't changed over the years and this makes Taekwoon smile even more. In return for Sanghyuk frowning at him, Taekwoon kisses the corner of Sanghyuk’s lips and Jiwoo giggles.

-x-

It doesn't take long for Sanghyuk to figure out that Taekwoon mostly time travels when he is asleep. He rarely disappears during the day or when he is awake. But there are multiple occasions where he goes to bed with Taekwoon and wakes up alone.

Taekwoon is never gone for more than five days at maximum. It's a limit that they haven't tested and Sanghyuk hopes they won't. Going to bed alone is still terrible, no matter how heartwarming it is to wake up next to Taekwoon unexpectedly.

When Sanghyuk goes to bed that night, he holds onto the hope that Taekwoon will be back in the morning. His five days are almost up and he really wants Taekwoon home with him now.

Being woken up with slow kisses is a feeling he can get used to.

“Why are you so affectionate today?” Sanghyuk asks playfully. It's the middle of the night and he figures Taekwoon must have just returned.

“I love you” is all Taekwoon says, before trapping him between his legs and kissing him. He kisses his lips, jawline and cheeks. Any place he can get his lips on.

Sanghyuk doesn't know what to make of the increased affections. “Did you miss me so much?” he asks, dreading the answer.

“I always miss you” Taekwoon replies honestly. “And I don't want to live without you anymore. I want to get married and for us to have an army of children in a house in the suburbs.”

“At least take me to dinner first” Sanghyuk replies teasingly.

The playful tone hides a deep insecurity. Sanghyuk has been thinking. After spending days wondering, he has come to the same realizations as what Taekwoon easily put into words. A life without Taekwoon is meaningless because it would be a life without love.

But he was always worried that this realization came too fast. That Taekwoon may not be in the same space and state of mind. They've only known each other for a very short time and yet life when he didn't know Taekwoon feels like a lifetime ago.

But Taekwoon is serious, he realizes. “A family is a big responsibility” Sanghyuk replies. “And with our situation… I don't even know how we'll handle one child. Much less an army.”

“I took the long way home this time” Taekwoon says carefully. “I went to the past and then to our future.”

“What did you see?” Sanghyuk asks curiously.

“We had a family. We were happy” Taekwoon tells him. It's a vague and generic answer and Sanghyuk knows that Taekwoon won't speak more. He rarely gives Sanghyuk details from the future lest they affect it for the worse.

“Baby steps” he breathes, more for himself than Taekwoon. The realization leaves him reeling. It's a lot to take in.

“I promise to always stay by your side. Even if I have to leave occasionally” Taekwoon swears.

“We can work around that” Sanghyuk agrees. They settle into a sober embrace. Taekwoon's hold on him slackens.

“Do you hate me for never being around?” he asks. It's a loaded question with no easy answer. He is well aware that this question is entirely contradictory to his earlier actions.

“No” Sanghyuk says after a prolonged moment. “I don't hate you for it.”

“Do you love me?” Taekwoon asks childishly.

“Enough to have a family someday” Sanghyuk says wittily and the two of them laugh.

-The End-

[imperialsea-a]

ℋeadcanon; An Extension of Kindness.

   ♛   This one’s going to get rambly and less formal than the usual HCs! I’ll try to explain a few different things better than in this post but this’ll do for now!

Something I never really took into consideration before @moonlit-theft​ pointed it out to me, but:

Yuuki ( @brilliant-ray-of-sunshine ) & Takashi ( @no-system-in-place ) were like. Literally they were just nice to her, not even overly so, and Elizabeth’s reaction to that was to be SURPRISED. All Yuuki did was try to reach out to her. All Takashi did was help her with a stack of paperwork on a day she seemed to be unlike herself. Unintentionally, she latched onto that kindness when normally she’d opt to reject it outright. She’s far lonelier than she lets on at that time in her life and in rare moments she lets that sway her usual judgements.

Tbh Elizabeth is generally just used to people being afraid or avoidant of her because of her family’s long, totally violent-even-by-hunter-standards history paired with, admittedly, her own personality. She tries to keep people at a distance if she can (even within the hunters’ society) because she’s certain she’ll outlive them, she’s also very stern and no-nonsense in the workplace because there are enormous consequences to pay for negligence. At the end of the day though, she so terribly wants to create strong bonds and experience love and affection, it’s something she’s missed since her mother was taken away no matter how well she covers it up. Her grandparents and her aunt exist and they are kind to Elizabeth, but diving into her education and training tenfold, she even struggles to see herself as a person at times, never really looking beyond her worth outside her work??? Sure, Elizabeth does have hobbies and enjoys things, but she’s often very solitary despite actually liking people; it’s a consequence to her poor coping mechanism: she simply ignores her pain and refuses to feel its full weight. She acknowledges it on a base level, but nothing more. Honestly it shows the most with the self-imposed isolation and her blase approach to her legitimately traumatizing experience, but it goes largely unnoticed because she’s also so high functioning? She has the capacity to be very friendly outside of work and can weave seamlessly between normal human society to the hunters, Elizabeth does her job cleanly, often without a hitch, her reports are meticulously documented and spare no detail-- she’s punctual, she’s efficient, she gets results. For a long time, it’s all she believes she’s good for. The first cracks in that unhealthy cycle of thinking start with Yuuki and Takashi.

TLDR; Bethy starts out denying herself any right to grieve over her trauma and withholds making any long-lasting or important friendships in the wake of her mother’s supposed death; given her family situation, she’s seen as a scary and unapproachable person which to some degree is correct, but when Taka and Yuuki extend their completely unexpected/non-required kindness to her, her shell starts to crack and even though it’s a really small step, it opens the way for a lot of overdue healing and she’s grateful af to them for it.

[lucalicatteart]

Some random notes about soul magic

or pretty much just about the dynamics of soul absorption lol

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

Absorbing a large portion (or entirety) of a person’s soul is usually painful and difficult and can go wrong in many ways... 

This is extremely minor in the case of enchantments and borrowed powers, so nobody really seems to notice too many ill effects from those.  At the most, perhaps if someone enchants you in a way that requires a higher than usual amount of potent magic,  you may just feel sick or something a few days after the enchantment *(1).  But in the case of larger scale soul absorption, like the type seen in malicious powerful mages and etc. (who trick people into giving away large portions of their soul to them in exchange for things, or who regularly capture and ingest entire souls of people, etc. so they can seemingly absorb that energy and grow their own power), it can be quite an uncomfortable process. 

 [*side note 1:  Since technically, part of what enchantments are is just that person breaking away a portion of their inherent energy  to infuse it into a person, item, ring, etc.  Which of course,  most low level enchantments only utilize an incomprehensibly small negligible amount of that energy, but that is still technically what it is. This is why often people who are in the business of enchanting ask for so much in return when making deals, since doing that is not an infinite resource (You have to be constantly taking in more than you’re giving away. If not, then you’d eventually grow too weak letting people get enchantments for free or something, breaking off tiny fragments of your life force for nothing in return to sustain you). And in many schools of thought, your ‘’inherent energy’’ is considered as basically your ‘’soul’’, or colloquially referred to that way. So even  the small enchantments commonly seen about the realm (magical jewelry shops, booths where you can make deals with jhevona in exchange for certain magical enhancements, etc.) are still technically branches of soul magic and dealing with souls,, it just happens to be, such small fragments of souls that it has nowhere near the negative effects of more powerful soul magic (and some people still dispute that enchanting is it's own separate thing and not a branch of soul magic but, magic scholars can never agree on anything anyway lol). 

 (Though still, it should be noted that most elements of magic are still not widely understood, as every time there seems to be a rule to figure it all out, there is discovered many exceptions to the rule, so then people who theorize about that sort of thing have to rethink their understanding yet again lmao… who would have thought.. abstract mystical energy is .. complicated. I refer to "inherent energy" as being the same thing as a soul, since many people in the realm conceptualize it that way, but nobody in the whole of Nanyevimi has ever truly had a concrete system for understanding stuff like souls, inherent energy levels, genetics, blood etc. and how those all relate to magic and properties of magic. There are relations between all of them (blood seeming to have magical properties, souls seemingly being a thing, magical ability being influenced to some degree by genetics, etc.), but nobody really has a consistent theory for how they all fit together, so there's still a lot of variation . Some people think a soul is the same thing as a consciousness (since those who do soul magic, when moving their ''soul'' to another body, are seemingly moving their whole life force/consciousness/ etc.), yet others separate the two, some don't believe in souls at all or think that actually the way soul magic is categorized is incorrect overall and is instead like 4 distinct types of magic lumped together (only some of which have to do with actual souls) etc... 

Anyway, like usual... I use the broadest and most general terms and ways of classifying things when I speak about them, usually trying to pick whatever is the most common knowledge or what a majority of scholars would agree with, however obviously it's Complicated and there are other ways out there to conceptualize the same ideas with different terminology or etc. etc.]

 So that’s how enchanting relates to all of this like, TECHNICALLY if you were to ask a jhevona merchant or something to grant you the limited ability to levitate (most enchantments like this would be done through enchanting an inanimate object for the user to wear that simply must be  periodically recharged since that’s 10x easier, but for this example I guess the person INSISTED on it being done the other way), they would  actually be giving you a very small portion of their soul that can merge it’s energy with your own for use under the specific condition of that given ability. But in this case it would be such a small fraction it’d be immediately absorbed into yours and probably not noticed at all. However with larger soul absorption, it gets more complicated

 Like if you absorbed 10 souls at once, from pretty powerful beings with ‘’stronger souls’’  like elves or even moreso like jhevona or something, then you would be OUT for a while like just recovering lol, no matter how powerful you are. Even ancient demons (thought to be the most powerful beings in like, all of existence for the most part, such a rare level of achievement that there’s only thought to be like 42 or so of them in the past 50,000 years of known civilization) can be debilitated by the process of absorbing souls, if anything it may  get WORSE the more powerful you are, since you’re only dealing with higher and higher levels of energy,, it scales up.

 Often if there’s like a battle or something where many people are dying at once and someone wants to take those souls of the dead to use for themselves *(2), they would likely use the soul magic to trap the souls into a container or some sort to keep for later (though they will expire after a certain time) and ingest when it’s safer, like when they have some time alone that they wont have to do much for a few days and can just gestate while their body gets used to the influx of a new mish mash of various energies now bubbling around all at once uncontrollably. 

  [ side note 2 : This is why it’s actually a kind of common scheme for people who are skilled in soul magics to become military medics or something, they’re out in the action with dying people all the time and have plenty of opportunity to harvest souls and take them for themselves when people are too distracted to care, and additionally when treating people they can heal them but as they’re healing simultaneously take a small portion of their soul for themselves, too small for anyone to notice, as when the person wakes up and feels weak or feels off everyone is just like “that’s probably just because you suffered such a massive injury! of course you feel weak!” and never think “oh it’s the fuckin medic whom took a little 0.004% of your soul energy hoping you wouldn’t notice”, and those small parts add up over time (though like mentioned, "souls" usually can't exist outside of something to contain them for too long (outside of certain hyper-specific scenarios), so this can be hard to maintain. It's the same reason that soul magics users hopping bodies and etc. can be so dangerous (if you run out of time and get trapped outside a host with nowhere for your soul to go, you just.. die lol). Usually the mages who do this less direct 'storing souls for later' type of thing have to be pretty high level in the first place and skilled enough to use little tricks and cheats to keep the souls from fading once captured. It also helps though that they are usually in a medical scenario, so they don't have to hold the souls for that long. It will mess them up for a while when they finally get around to absorbing them, but they're around sickness and combat all the time, they can always just absorb the contained souls whenever they want and then fake sick for a few days, especially  if only dealing with minor non-powerful soul fragments or etc. ) ]  

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  Souls need time to absorb and settle in to the ‘main soul’ . One of the main reasons (aside from ability level limitations, morality, etc.) people shy away from actual soul absorption (again, not the like %0.000000000003% of a soul that is utilized in enchantments, this is only Whole Soul/Multiple Whole Soul/Large Portion absorption) is due to how painful and weird the process can be.  

Especially depending on the strength of the soul (though minor symptoms are basically applicable for even the weakest souls), taking a powerful soul into your own can be harder, no matter how strong you are yourself. Nobody is immune to the physical pain and weakness (often stuff like muscle spasms , shaking/severe and rapid trembling, fever (usually to levels that would be deadly if you weren’t consistently offsetting it with healing magic), extreme muscle aches, full body bruising, coughing up blood and general internal bleeding due to various damage inside the body, just overall feeling extremely frail, severe headaches, damage to internal organs, severely lessened control over one’s magic (meaning also an increased risk of accidentally hurting yourself doing something you can usually do effortlessly, which gets more dangerous the more powerful you are, etc), in some cases random small bone fractures and cases of severe swelling of your joints, peeling and burns on the skin, rashes, boils, etc… Generally just being unfathomably weak and in sometimes unbearable amounts of pain. * (3) 

Which is basically the typical symptoms you can see associated with extremely high level magic use in general (even though only like, 0.00000001% of the population even uses magic at such a level that this would be applicable to them, so it's like, typical, yet not commonly known of), except just... 10x worse because it's not over in a burst once the spell ends, it's persistent over a period of days even weeks or months, never ending lol. Once you’ve initiated absorbing souls.. that’s.... basically what you’re doing for the next few days/weeks..you can’t back out, call it off, take them out of you (at least not without usually worse consequences, like fracturing or loosing your own soul or something).. No matter how insufferable the symptoms get you just have to, ride it out until the souls have merged (or until you die, etc.). Just like chill for a few days blinded by headaches and throwing up blood letting your skin burn off and accidentally hurting yourself with your own magic and stumbling around wondering why you did this to yourself.

 Again, why usually all the powerful idiots who choose to do this usually basically hibernate for a few weeks, some even have other people try to put them under and make them unconscious most of the time, at least during the first two days of the process (though this still doesn’t always work, especially if you’re very powerful, not only because you could usually override the magic/drugs/etc. and wake up anyway, but also due to the fact that the whole ‘hey come take care of me while I’m rapidly deteriorating and incredibly unstable and could legit just hop out of bed on a whim and do a tiny spell wrong and accidentally obliterate your entire existence’ usually seems like a frightening task, even for your closest companions ). 

 Additionally, with your magic being in a more faded state, healing magic usually doesn't work as well in this scenario. It's a regular part of life for extremely high level magic users (like ancient demons, etc.) to have to be using nearly constant background healing magic just to sustain themselves and offset the constant physical effects of using high level magics, or just the sheer physical damage of like.. existing? (having so much magical energy contained in a physical form will absolutely destroy the physical form if you're not constantly up-keeping it, as the energy just utterly deteriorates most organic matter, which is why it's also common for powerful beings to not  even take physical forms anymore, or to shape-shift constantly), but when absorbing souls, they can't rely on this as much any longer, and have to exist in severely limited states because of it. 

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 [Side note 3: It still isn’t quite clear why certain magics like this can cause physical effects, but it’s thought to be at least somewhat associated with the amount of energy required to do the magic, the length it must be sustained, and where the effect of the magic is directed. 

As I think I’ve mentioned before in the post about general magic, there are theories that like, basically ALL magic is physically harmful, it’s just that 99% of common magic  is used is in such low doses or  requires such a low level of energy output that you don’t see the effects, but technically any magic used to a high enough degree would have the same issues. So of course, with magic like illusion and reality manipulation magics (in which even the MOST BASIC beginner tiniest smallest feat of magic you can do in that field is still going to require a truly incredible amount of energy) literally anything you do in that form of magic is going to cause physical effects, making it seem like ‘oh reality magics just have bad effects and others don’t’. But some people think it’s not really the TYPE of magic as much as it is just, the energy level.  Like theoretically if there were known elemental magics spells which required a similar level of energy, they’d probably cause the same exact  side effects, it’s just that due to how differing forms of magic are utilized in different ways, for most types of magic, such high energy and dangerous applications hardly exist.

Another thing is the amount of time it must be sustained, even if you did have an extremely powerful fire spell or something, that lasts literally a few seconds, you burst out the energy and it’s gone. Whereas things like reality magics and some soul magics require not only a massive amount of energy to do in the first place, but also have to be sustained for the entire duration of what you’re doing (so keeping an alternate pocket of reality in tact, or etc.). Even if both were to cause symptoms, you’d obviously notice symptoms more over a 2 hours period than you would over a span of 15 seconds during a quick battle.

 And then the target of the energy,, Things like elemental magic and enchanting magics pretty much always externalize their energy, it’s being used on an inanimate object, or being expelled from the body to exist on it’s own and be used as a weapon or etc. Whereas stuff like illusion/reality/soul magics literally are enacted upon people, the energy is transferring directly into their being or the direct environment around them, and due to this of course may be likely to have more effect on a person. Casting energy inward or having the focus be an internal alteration would have a different effect than when it’s externalized as abstract force or applied to/accessed through an external object (like how it’s easier to enchant rings for people to wear, even though you could TECHNICALLY do the same enchantment to the person themselves directly (their body being the vessel rather than an object)). 

 So what this side tangent brings me to is like.. soul magics in general can kind of vary, there are many many more low energy things for people to do that are still considered soul magic than there are for something like reality magic or whatever (low level reality magic basically doesn’t exist, or it does technically but a ‘low level reality magic’ user would still have to be, insanely powerful otherwise, magics like that just exist on a totally different scale (why they’re often considered forbidden or not meant to be used/accessed by others)), things like laying people’s souls to rest or transferring the souls of others to different containers or etc. are all pretty basic feats of soul magic,  but the particular soul magic of absorbing the souls of others  into your own is like.. one of the most advanced and difficult you can try, since:

It requires a ridiculous amount of energy to even do (not to mention extensive prior training and knowledge of soul magics since, while basically ALL magic can kill you instantly if you make even a slight mistake, soul magic is on the more extreme end of being a You  Better Know Exactly What The Hell You Are Doing type of magic, which should be self explanatory why stuff like expelling your own soul from your body to cautiously navigate someone’s dream realm or ripping another person’s consciousness into your own are like, things that can go ludicrously wrong) 

 you have to sustain it for DAYS/WEEKS usually, and 

 it is literally being applied directly to yourself… so you’re essentially bombarding yourself with extremely high levels of constantly sustained magical energy for days on end,, which meets all three above criteria for “What people who study magic and stuff currently think has an effect on how severe the physical symptoms are”.. so it’s just like… Bigg Pain.. Ouch,, Ooff,, You Are Destroying Your Body And Probably Other Things Too

 So, while the reason behind magic having physical effects is still not widely understood, most people can still agree on a few criteria that make it worse, and large scale/whole soul absorption magic in particular massively meets all three, thus, even if your some ancient powerful being, It's Going To Be Awful ] 

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 In addition to physical symptoms, another well known reason people avoid this,  is also that in the initial phases it can feel like there’s multiple people in your body at once, or another person fighting you from inside yourself.  In some cases there’s even solid dialogue between both consciousnesses (though the absorbed soul is still clearly more faded/less prominent and distinguishable from your own), which is pretty unsettling for a lot of people. 

 Like if you absorbed the soul of some child, you may be able to hear them constantly in the back of your mind for the next few days while you’re sick, sobbing, crying out for their parents, wondering why everything is just dark and they can’t feel anything, pleading to know what’s going on , which even for some evil shitlord can just be, vaguely uncomfortable at least. And then with people who are actually experienced in soul magics, they’ll probably know exactly what’s going on and try to fight you, so you’ll get them screaming hostilities at you for days, or going though different stages (trying to bargain with you to let them go, insulting you, trying to fight for control of your body to make you throw yourself down the stairs or something as a last effort of revenge, crying for a few hours, backpedaling  on all that revenge stuff and trying to suck up to you and bargain with you again, getting angry again, giving a long monologue of how they accept their fate now, etc.. ).  Some people will rationalize the darkness as some sort of afterlife and you'll be able to hear their consciousness as they begin panicking with frantic thoughts that they must have died and been trapped in hell or whatever other sorts of things would be applicable to their culture/religion/etc.,,   Which of course the more souls you absorb at once the more chaotic this is. Like 15+ people having various levels and types of breakdown over their current situation at once, which you can prominently hear in your mind, all while you're probably vomiting blood on the floor or something  

Absorbed souls that have the ability to still be conscious (not all do, but very often this is the case, at least in a very faint short term way) usually register the feeling of being absorbed as kind of like, initially they’re just in this sensory deprived place where they can’t see or hear or feel anything it’s just darkness yet they’re still able to perceive themselves and have conscious thoughts and express them (which is what you’re picking up on when you ‘’hear their thoughts’’ kind of), until they gradually start to feel their consciousness getting weaker and weaker as they fade into nothing and their energy becomes fully integrated with your Main Soul. Though many are not aware of the presence of other souls around them, including the person absorbing them, so a majority of the time the person just feels entirely alone and confused until fading away. It’s only those who are skilled in soul magics or have some other rare ability that are able to actively perceive the presence of others and have an actual dialogue with the Main Soul.

Sometimes though, especially if some of the people you’re trying to absorb are trained/adept enough to know what’s going on and have experience navigating the weird barely understood dark space that is just consciousness and souls/minds, they can actually communicate with other souls and work collectively, even usually being able to speak to non experienced ones (by guiding them or trying to instruct them), so you also have to be able to handle that as well which can be a risk. 

  Like if you absorbed a group of five, and three of them immediately figure out what’s going on and communicate with each other, then try to instruct the other two to do the right things as well,  it is possible they could use their collective power to gain control of your body just long enough to make you kill yourself, and free themselves (though this could only occur before the initial absorption has started to set in, while they still exist mostly separately. They’d only have about 30 - 60 minutes to do this, as after that point the souls start to merge/absorb to a point that, even  if they were freed from the body, they’d either just be fractured bits and pieces or would be all partially merged into one big soul yet still half distinct, and would probably all just fade away and die, etc.). Which you’d basically be able to hear their dialogue the entire time, so it’d be kind of helpless like, you know what they’re about to do because you’ve heard them coordinate their plan for the past 15 minutes yet still they overpower you and you can’t stop them lol. So another thing to consider is that you better be stronger than everyone you absorb combined, or at least make sure the people you target are not skilled enough in soul magics to coordinate a plan with the others in the short window of allotted time they would have to literally kill you from the inside out after gaining control of your own body. 

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Also sometimes during this process, there’s a bit of instability of certain aspects of yourself.  Like if one of the souls you absorbed really loves sandwiches you may start to crave those. Or if the person you’ve taken in is generally a hot head, you may start to feel more angry over small things.  This is usually just you harmlessly adopting some strange quirks for a few days,  but can end up being pretty unsettling still. 

Like if they’re extremely obsessed with some obscure sex kink or something and out of nowhere you find yourself always thinking about that even though it’s personally disgusting to you, you’re now like stuck with seemingly involuntary thoughts about it,, Or if the person is some wild murderer or something , you may get surprisingly violent thoughts for a few days, etc.  If the soul you’re trying to absorb is VERY adept at soul/mind magics, like perhaps someone who regularly navigates mind spaces and dreams, they may even be able to get into your consciousness a bit in order to extract certain memories you have or learn things about you, which they can then exploit, Even if they know they’re going to be absorbed anyway and there’s no chance of escaping, they could still just solely out of spite project constant thoughts of your dead relatives or deepest fears or extreme urges to hurt yourself or etc. just to fuck with you relentlessly until they get too weak and fade away.  Or if the person you absorb regularly has flashbacks of something traumatic, you may have those too. If they’re generally in a constant state of anxiety or sadness over something, it could begin to effect you as well (suddenly having panic attacks over situations you’ve never been afraid of, nightmares involving ‘’loved ones’’ who are people you’ve never known yet you still get extremely emotionally affected by them, etc.) etc. etc. 

 This always levels out as their souls fade and their energy is transferred to your own Main Soul , it’s not like it ever legitimately changes who you are as a person or anything (though if not mentally prepared for it ahead of time it could possibly still have an effect on you, but only in the sense that the experience of absorbing souls in itself was traumatic for you (poor you :(  you decided to steal people’s souls and had to live for a few days with what they’ve lived with their entire lives :( aww… bhbb)). So, at the very least, the alterations aren’t permanent,  but still  in the initial few days, especially if you took in multiple souls at once, or a particularly skilled/malicious soul, you can be not only in PHYSICAL pain and distress but also, sometimes even more difficult to manage is the personality changes and different cravings for foods and constant thoughts about subject matter that you normally don’t normally think about and a lot of new emotions or anxieties you’ve never had to experience before or people attacking you from inside your own mind, etc. etc.. 

 Which maybe at the very least could serve as an empathy exercise for all the, probably generally unempathetic fools who find it okay to devour the souls of others, since they can’t really minimize or avoid dealing with the actual emotions and struggles and lives of these people when they’re inevitably going to have to confront them and live through them first hand in some form. Even though probably still all they’ll take from it is “wah, look what I had to go through for a few days : (  which was entirely my choice to experience since I knew ahead of time the risks of absorbing innocent people into myself to supplement my own power but.. :’( i had a nightmare and my bones hurt :(“ , instead of it giving them a better perspective on the depth and struggle of others who exist in the world lol.. But, one could at least hope maybe at some point this constant temporary experience of the consciousnesses of others could actually do something to alter the way they conceptualize other people, humanize them more and allow the owner of the Main Soul to, consider maybe like… not ..uh.. killing people and stealing their souls so they can evaporating others into themselves..??? hmm’st… 

 Which of course not all people who absorb souls or portions of souls are like, awful horrible people.  Again, like with enchantments, people are often trading in micro fragments of souls or very tiny bits that are given consensually and willingly. It's just that, in the case of mass collecting souls of the dead from a battleground or tricking people to their demise or buying/capturing living people to take their souls*(4) , it’s like… … i mean… you’re basically guaranteed a shitty person for doing that, there’s no real way to skate around that fact.. It’s pretty much guaranteed that you have no respect for other people if you think it’s chill to eat their consciousness just because you’re too lazy to come up with a more creative and consensual way to collect power.. like.. start an enchantment shop like every other soul magic user or something you freak.. you’re not clever because you rob souls from the graveyards or start a fake religion to manipulate isolated groups into giving you live sacrifices or etc. 

  [ side note 4: There are actually small markets for this.  Like, usually people who are pretty privileged and have grown up in a position of wealth and power with great quality of life, have a fairly easy temperament, who haven’t had training in soul magics, etc. are considered  prime targets for kidnapping to have their soul taken, since their souls are the most unlikely to bestow the absorber with a bunch of personal baggage like memories of a traumatic past or any sort of personal struggle,  and lack of soul magic training means they won’t internally fight much. Obviously soul absorption has a lot of downsides, AND is an extremely rare lesser known type of magic that a majority of the population wouldn’t even have the inherent magical energy level or skill/capacity to do, so this isn't too common, but there are definitely a small handful people out there who make a business out of kidnapping "clean souls" (people with low magical ability, no trauma, a meek personality, etc.)  just to sell to powerful mages who want souls to utilize that are unlikely to give them too much trouble during the absorption process and etc. Or sometimes it's not even a business but more just like, an ancient demon will have someone on staff who works for them and it's their whole job just to go out and kidnap people for them to absorb, etc. (usually a job done by impressionable power hungry morally questionable young apprentice mages, you know, the type of person you could generally see volunteering to kidnap innocent people for some immortal all powerful ancient demon, under some promise of one day being mentored by them or granted powers or etc. (which usually they'll just end up getting absorbed themselves one day lol))   ] 

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 If you haven’t fully absorbed a soul and they’re still within you and you get killed, you can sometimes get a rare case where your souls will come out of your dead body in kind of one collective piece, despite not being fully integrated. Where like aside from contacting a specialist in soul magics, you really can’t separate yourselves so, you better either find a way to destroy your collective soul or , just get used to the company and learn to live with the new dynamic of basically being two consciousnesses in one. Though there is a window when the souls are initially consumed for maybe an hour or so, where so little merging has occurred that if you die, the souls inside you will likely just escape free and still be separate, but any further along than that and you’re usually going to get just a weird merge of souls, or maybe they are separate but they’re missing parts of themselves, fractured or half combined and half separate, etc. 

Which in most cases, the souls are not able to find their way to an applicable host in time (especially if they don’t know soul magics, if you can’t do soul magics then you’d have no clue how to store your soul somewhere safe if it were to randomly be released from some fool trying to absorb it), so they just expire out in the wild and fade away anyway. 

But there have been cases of partially merged or fractured or just normal escaped souls being able to find their way back into a living form, though this is like, ridiculously rare (since it’s additionally so rare to escape in general), however it’s ALWAYS someone who beforehand had very extensive training in soul magics, since you have to be pretty high level in the first place to master soul hopping. Like being able to maneuver your soul out of one body, into an animal you see on the road, then into an inanimate object like a backpack of someone walking by so you can travel (the backpack instead of the person since most people would like.. notice if you just jump into them, it’s very hard to do, even compared to the difficulty of existing in backpack, it’s easier than trying to take over a random stranger), then into a random bird you see, then your bird body flies you to a graveyard where you hop out again into whatever you can sense is the closest and most recently dead body, now you’re finally in a living form again, etc..*(5)

 [ side note 5: Which is very conditional in the first place.. There are a lot of timing and skill things involved. A soul can usually only be on it’s own existing totally outside of any form for like, maybe 20 minutes MAXIMUM for someone with a lot of skill, and then stuff like, hopping into animals/other living things (excluding fully conscious humanoid beings)  is much easier than going into inanimate objects , you have to be a pretty high level of skill to like, maintain yourself trapped in a cooking pot or something, since generally , the farther it is off from your original form, the harder it is to maintain yourself within it, since your soul like, obviously wasn’t meant to be there or function that way, you can usually only be in inanimate objects for certain time limits, you can still do irreparable damage to yourself, etc. etc. So again, the idea of someone escaping, and on top of that, being able to find a way back to an applicable form without damaging their soul or just breaking time limits and completely fading away first would be probably even rarer than them breaking out in the first place lol.. Like.. it COULD be done, but there's so much that has to go perfectly and so many skills you'd have to know and etc. USUALLY, people who break free from an absorption attempt just have their souls fade away in the wild with no form to inhabit. ] 

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 There also have been cases where someone tries to absorb a soul of someone, but the other person has a stronger soul than them or is just more adept at soul magics than them and is able to catch what’s going on and maneuver it in their favor and then THEY end up taking over the body of the person who was trying to absorb them in the first place.  Like after an initial fight for control, sometimes the one that is supposed to be absorbed can actually come out on top and end up integrating the other person’s soul into theirs rather than the other way around.  Which in most cases is probably pretty sweet if not a bit weird lol.. Like imagine you’ve been harmed in battle and your body has just been killed and you think this is it for you and embrace your death and etc.  but then you randomly get plucked into darkness, terrified of whats going on, quickly realize it’s a soul thing, have an angry dialogue with the absorber, take control of their mind, then slowly subsume the consciousness of the person, now it’s like.. "Hey!.. this body is yours now.. you fought them for it and you won!.. you basically get a second life lol You’re back from the dead!!  And also more powerful than before since now you own the energy of their soul including any other souls they’ve absorbed in the past! Joke's on them for attempting to absorb you!! Just an hour ago you were thinking you were dead and now you're back and even stronger!". 

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It goes without saying that this is also very rare though… like.. ALL of this in general is rare.. normal people do not go around absorbing souls.. this is like.. literally out of all the billions of people in the world maybe like, 10,000 or so people even have the possibility to do this… So like, everything I’m writing about is already super uncommon.. add an additional ‘this is rare’ on top of that and it’s like, I’m just mostly rambling about things that pretty much nobody in Nanyevimi would encounter in the first place lol.. Probably only like 10 people in the past 50,000 years could even say they've done something like almost be absorbed by another person but then turn it around and absorb the other person's soul instead, etc. 

But this is why, despite it literally never working out, some people try to kill extremely powerful beings like ancient demons and stuff and take their souls.  Since on the like 0.000000000000000000000000000000001% half chance that they could actually gain control over the powerful Main Soul, rather than just having the attempt immediately flipped around and them being absorbed,..IF they could pull it off, then they would now be the 'owner’ of that soul and all the power that comes with it. You could, TECHNICALLY, through the most impossible luck in the universe, go from a very low level soul magic user to like, one of the most powerful beings in the entire universe, if you were able to absorb their soul.  This has literally never happened in all 2 million+ years that magic capable conscious humanoid beings have existed in some form throughout the supernatural realm though.  But, people still try lol. 

Usually when that type of stuff happens, it’s people who are fairly close in ability. It’d be extremely rare for you to just be like 'oh i’ll just get powerful by absorbing the souls of a few people who are way way more powerful than me’ since likely they’d just absorb you instead.  You could maybe, if you’re better trained than them in soul magics and stuff, be able to get people who are a bit more powerful than you and take a few steps up every time, but for the most part the one who is weaker in overall ‘soul strength’/inherent power level (as vague and misunderstood/difficult to estimate of a concept as that already is)  is going to be the one that’s absorbed, skill in navigating the realm of souls can only take you so far. 

  Like to put it in stupid This Isn't An Entirely Accurate Analogy At All But Is At Least Simple To Understand video game terms: if you're level 8, you could definitely absorb souls that are level 5 and lower (or small fractions/portions of souls up to maybe level 20, as long as it's only a bit and wasn't whole soul absorption), and likely up until 7. You could PROBABLY absorb another level 8 soul, if you were good at soul magics, maybe even a level 9 or 10 if you were like, REALLY good. But you're not going to be able to absorb a level 40 soul, since they'd just absorb YOU. Some people, who are silly people, think that through certain tricks and tips and rumors and secret magic powers, they (at level 14 or something) will be able to absorb a level 15000 soul, and then magically shoot themselves up to being level 15000 in power, but it literally never works like that and you're better off just sticking with slowly climbing levels of power by absorbing people under or close to yourself. (though again, this isn't a super accurate way to explain this since like.. in real life nobody knows their level and you never know who you're in contact with, nothing is ever actually this clearly defined and in the largely mysterious realm of magic and magical abilities and souls and all that you're really just guessing on this type of stuff and it's always way more conditional and complicated, but maybe the example can still at least kind of show what I mean in a more simplified way).

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So basically,  just like everything else in the realm of soul magics: Absorbing souls is yet another form of soul magic that is hard, very very complicated, super easily goes wrong to catastrophic effect, and you probably wont escape without some intense physical symptoms and mental distress. Aka why even if soul magic was the easiest form of magic and there were no huge ability level barriers to people getting into it, probably still hardly anyone would do it, especially extreme stuff like fully absorbing actual entire souls lol.  Moral dubiousness of seizing the released energy of the dead and consuming it to make yourself marginally more powerful aside, it’s also just… more trouble than most people would be willing to go through, especially on a regular basis. The majority of the population will just stick to dealing in minuscule fractions of souls, like in the exchange of enchantments or stealing tiny bits of people’s souls while treating them medically, since all this Larger Scale  Whole Soul nonsense is just… a great lot of extremely severe personally inflicted drawn out suffering,, and also generally everyone is going to hate you if they ever find out you do this… please just be like everyone else and open an enchantment shop instead of putting yourself in complete agony and destroying your body for weeks straight just to climb a little further up the magical power ladder lol

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 (Another last note to address: absorbing souls like this SEEMS to help people grow in power, but nobody is really sure why, and it's another complete mystery of magic. There are a lot of cases where magical energy seemingly can't be transferred between people, or where it seems like souls (here, meaning more like a ''consciousness'') are not connected at all to a person's inherent magical ability, but then when someone takes a "soul" (here, meaning absorbing someone's magical energy), it seems like they definitely take the person's consciousness as well, which would suggest a connection. The difference (and possible connections) between concepts like "souls" "life force" "inherent magical energy" "consciousness" etc. are not well understood, and the terms are often used interchangeably or in many different ways to sometimes imply connections, sometimes not, etc. etc. 

SO BASICALLY, it is a known phenomena, that some people, through use of a very particular type of magic, can sometimes under specific conditions, absorb parts or a whole of something which seems to be a person's inherent energy, and absorb that into themselves to grow their energy, which can make them more magically powerful. But all the specifics like what exactly is functionally happening when this is done, what the type of magic is called, what is actually being absorbed, what 'inherent magical energy' even means, etc. etc. are all pretty widely debated and not known. So though I speak about it in a pretty straightforward way like "oh yeah, people just absorb souls to grow their own power! simple!" , let it be known that still, like everything in the realm of magic lol, it's not entirely that simple, but that's just a good basic way that most people conceptualize it.  )

edit : For additional info, see also this post HERE (link), which is a response to an ask that was about something in this post, and goes into other details