#unhinged monstrosity from hell | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cryinginmyroomsposts · 2 years ago

Text

Mr Gorgeous

pairing: Lee Minho x reader

genre: fluff, slight angst, crack, tutor Lee know, non-idol!au, college au, best friend Hyunjin, computer nerd Lee know

summary: As a chemical engineer with the biggest aversion to computer science it was nothing short of hell to try and pass the one elective you were forced to take. Things do change for the better when your friend suggests you get tutored by smart and hot Lee Minho. Maybe you'd do a lot more than just pass the subject...

wordcount: 6.3k

a/n: This one is based on the unhinged but cute ideas my friend gives, hopefully, I did justice to that, and to Minho.

masterlist

I have extended this universe (but can be read as oneshot ) with the Hyunjin fic Dancing with our Hands Tied

Regret.

That’s the primary emotion you feel right now. Sitting with your hands tugging at your hair in the corner of the computer science lab as you stare at the big blank screen… yet again.

Another ping and you look up to see yet another failure message popping on the screen of your laptop. It wasn’t brand new, or of high value, but this laptop was your lifeline. Not only did it hold all three years' worth of your undergrad life but it also holds the precious drafts of your latest hyper fixation- fanfics based on the forced marriage trope.

The downfall of the laptop itself wasn’t your primary concern now, it was the choices you made that led here. Well, it wasn’t exactly a choice. The course selection system of your uni might say “flexible” but it was anything but. Your mind replays a flashback from two months ago when you were seated in your dorm bed, hands tugging your hair like now, as you stare at the monstrosity that was the computer science elective you were forced to choose for the sake of credits.

Leading you right back to regret.

Just as you're about to break your laptop in a fit of pure frustration you feel a hand on your shoulder. Whipping your head back, with five retorts at the tip of your tongue (but ones that’ll never be said), you find yourself facing one of your closest friends. His feline eyes shone with kindness and his long blonde hair with fringes framing his spectacular face and the crisp white shirt that looks very out of place amongst his rarely-showered peers.

Hyunjin. The infamous dance team captain and the most wanted dude on campus, who somehow ended up as your roommate's dance partner back in freshman year and is now a big part of your gang. He was the reason for whatever little popularity you had on campus.

“Are you alright?”

“Hi yeah, I-I’m fine… I guess…” you sigh, giving up on your hair and point to the screen. “I don’t know what the hell I’m doing and my laptop just gave up on me.”

He gives you a sad smile, not one of pity and you’re grateful for it. “Ahh, the computers have defeated our great y/n I see...” His tone is slightly lighter this time when he speaks. You nod furiously as he settles down on an empty chair next to you. His hand has moved from your shoulder to fidgeting with the armrests.

“Yeah I absolutely hate- no loathe computers. I mean, I fought with my parents to do a chemical engineering degree just because I hate computers for god's sake. All that only to end up here in this damn course and I’ve managed to kill my laptop in the process of installing virtual machines. Actually why the hell do we even need those virtual machines? Isn’t everything that these machines produce essentially virtual… if you do need another device, just get one. Why do you computer science idiots go through all this hassle? I don’t-“, you pause mid-rant to see that he’s got an amused expression and the corners of his lips are lifted up.

“Ugh, please. Don’t laugh at my distress, you cruel man.” You whine and dramatically put your head on the desk in defeat.

"Aye y/n it's okay... I mean it will be..." Hyunjin tries to comfort but you just grunt in response and dig your head deeper into your arms on the desk.

You hear him sigh and shift closer to you.

"Alright, I'll tell you what... class is over now so we will give up for now and go have something to eat and replenish your brain. Then maybe I can tutor you, I am also in the class and I do understand this. Is that ok?"

You look up to see Hyunjin sitting beside you, lips pressed into a thin smile, eyes kind and empathetic. This version of him rarely comes out except with his few friends and you were usually grateful for that. But today you had no brain cells left to feel grateful.

"Yeah, sure! Do you plan on doing that before or during your morning dance practices or evening practice?" Your tone comes out sharp and sarcastic, which catches Hyunjin off guard.

You were almost always sarcastic but it was never more than a harmful joke and you never really lost your temple. In fact, you were very particular about staying silent unless you have something positive or funny to contribute to the conversation.

Hyunjin recovers fast from the shock, "Hey I was just offering... I was being nice. Don't bite my head off!"

You feel apologetic immediately and sigh. "Yeah sorry dude, I guess I need to eat. Are you still up to get lunch together?" You ask with a small smile.

"Yup!" He immediately agrees with a big grin and you begin packing your things.

"Hey, you sure one of your little fangirls and fanboys won't die of jealousy if they see just the two of us having lunch together?" You joke as you both head to the cafeteria.

He just rolls his eyes and both of you laugh it off.

Even though you knew about Hyunjin's popularity, it still feels weird for you to sit and watch almost the entire cafeteria stare in your direction. Rather in his direction. Trying your best to ignore it you continue eating your sales as Hyunjin talks about the latest gossip from the dance team.

Just as he was about to reach the juicy part, Hyunjin sees someone on the other end of the cafe and asks them to join. You whip your head around to see the source of your latest annoyance, ready to hate them in your head, only to find the most gorgeous man you had ever seen walk towards your table.

You've had one too many celebrity crushes in your day but you weren't usually the type to simp for a dude in real life- especially one from your university. Yet you find yourself unable to take your eyes off this guy. He's wearing a simple black T-shirt and a pair of joggers. His headphones are around his neck, and a black backpack hanging on his left shoulder. You watch his shirt cling to his shoulders and the way he keeps his eyes down as he walks. You keep watching as he runs a hand through his hair, messing it up just enough for it to look fluffy and good.

Taylor Swift definitely wrote Gorgeous for this man.

As he nears the table you finally gather all your self-control and turn back to your lunch. You chew on the food slowly and keep playing with the contents in your bowl, painfully aware of every step he takes toward the table.

"Hey Lino!" You hear Hyunjin exclaim as he gets up to hug the other guy.

"Hi Hyunjin." says the other guy- who apparently has a deep, yet soft voice that reminds you of honey melting.

You internally cringe at the weird tingly feeling this guy is making you feel.

You try to block out the conversation the two guys make, desperately hoping you wouldn't have to interact with Mr Gorgeous.

"Oh, I forgot to introduce you both. This is my friend y/n."

You look up at the mention of your name to find Hyunjin and him looking right at you. You smile, hoping the weird thoughts don't translate on your face.

"And y/n, this is Lee Minho. My classmate and dance teammate." Hyunjin says with a fond smile.

"Hey, y/n. Nice to finally meet you," says Mr Gorgeous in his honey-dripping voice as he reaches his hand out to you. You are frozen for a second but recover quickly to take his hands and shake them as you nod. You watch as he immediately takes his hand after a second of contact and clears his throat.

"Nice to meet you too Minho." you finally manage after the handshake that only made the butterflies worse. You pray silently that you don't ever have to speak to Minho again, a crush was not good for your health. Especially not a crush on your friend's very hot dance teammate.

Thankfully Minho almost immediately leaves, stating he has a class to attend and Hyunjin and you bid your byes and return to your lunches.

After a moment's silence, Hyunjin speaks again, "So what do you think about Minho?"

You cough as a lettuce piece gets stuck in your throat at his question and chug half a glass of water.

"Wha- what about him?" You ask in your most normal voice possible.

"I don't know... you tell me." Hyunjin says eyeing you cautiously.

"He's fine I guess." He scoffs. "He's way more than fine and we both know it." He says with a smirk.

"You're just a simp for the mysterious hot dudes who will never go for you."

"Ouch. But yeah. Plus all I can do is simp... he's not really into guys." Hyunjin says with a dramatic frown making you shake your head at his antics.

You were almost relieved when Hyunjin admitted to simping for Minho because then you would shut down the crush because you are a good friend. Every plan to squish this growing crush is backfiring on you now.

As you both finish your lunch and decide to go separate ways, Hyunjin stops in his tracks outside the cafeteria with a bright smile on his face. The face that usually means trouble for anyone involved- which is you currently.

"Oh my god! Y/n I just had the best idea." He practically squeals and you roll your eyes at him.

"I don't believe it will be good but you're gonna say it anyway so spill."

"Well you need a tutor to pass the computer course... and Minho is a top-of-the-class student who passed that subject a semester ago. What if he tutored you?"

Hyunjin looks like he hit the jackpot and your jaw hangs on the floor. Gulping you begin to explain why his idea won't work just as the door opens and out comes the man of the hour himself- Minho.

Hyunjin looks at Minho and his smile grows even wider.

"Lino I was just going to call you. I need a small favour from you."

Minho looks suspiciously between an excited Hyunjin and a horrified you. "Yeah, tell me..."

Hyunjin proceeds to explain the ordeal in great painful detail. He paints a sad picture of you from fighting with your parents about your major to your whining in the lab earlier. All while you plan the detailed and gruesome murder of Hwang Hyunjin in your head.

Even though you are too embarrassed to see Minho's face, curiosity gets the better of you. He seems to be trying his best to follow Hyunjin's rant. His eyebrows perked up and eyes shifted between the two of you. His nose scrunched as he nods continuously.

"So what do you think of my genius idea huh?" Hyunjin asks Minho as he smiles widely at you both.

"Ermm... ", Minho looks between you and Hyunjin looking positively confused. "I think I can do it yeah." He says in his honey-melting crush-heightening voice and nods at you.

All you can do is force a hopefully normal smile on your face as Hyunjin celebrates his 'victory'. You shoot Minho an apologetic look as Hyunjin forces you both to exchange numbers and discuss the tutoring schedule- every Monday evening at the library.

"See you on Monday y/n." He says with a soft smile as he hoists his bag up higher on his shoulder and walks away after saying his byes to Hyunjin.

There is no death for the crush now.

————————————

The Monday could not have come slower. Although it was only three days from meeting Minho it felt like the longest days of your life. To make matters worst, Hyunjin and Yeji, your roommate, could not stop talking about Minho.

Turns out he didn’t spurt out of nowhere since Thursday, he was fondly called Lino by the dance team. You’d previously heard Hyunjin and Yeji talk for hours together about the “brilliant” dancer that “Lino” was. But you’d also heard Yeji mock Hyunjin for constantly getting bullied by him. The stories that you had always laughed your heart out to because mostly Hyunjin did deserve it. But now those stories do nothing but increase your anxiety as you walk slowly towards the campus library to meet your gorgeous dancer-nerd tutor.

What if he bullies you too? Or worse what if you embarrass yourself in front of Mr Gorgeous!

You groan as you step into the library, searching along rows of students absorbed in their own world before spotting him. He was wearing another plain black shirt, hair messed up in sweeps framing the side of his face, and a thin framed glass perched on his face. His little nose scrunched up as he was concentrating on his laptop, the headphones on his head.

Why does this man make you weak over the bare minimum!

“Hey Minho”, you greet as you reach the table he’s sat at, settling down across the table from him.

He looks up removing his headphones and smiles at you, nodding in acknowledgment.

Both of you walk around on eggshells for the first few minutes, him understanding how much knowledge you have in the subject- he almost looks disappointed on hearing the answer be ‘nothing’. Eventually, you both developed a plan and he began explaining from the basics. Although you had a very hard time concentrating initially, especially when his eyes got all dark and focused, as he bit his lip whenever you messed up and explained in that calm soothing voice of his. But eventually, you started finding it easier to learn when he taught you in parts, giving examples and helping you take notes.

The hour passed by much too quickly for your liking but a part of you was relieved to be out of his strong gaze. He had given you some pointers and tasks to do over the week to help speed the process to pass the finals approaching in two months.

The following weeks go smoothly, Mondays becoming your favourite and most exciting day of the week- adulting really was sad. You saw Minho relaxing with every session, the third session he even started teasing you about your mistakes. He would let out a little “hehe”, smile brightly as his eyes lit up and shake his head as he says, “No that’s not how you run this. It’s a different coding language so the rules change.”

He never raised his voice or lost his cool. While you were constantly groaning or huffing in irritation at the irrational rules of computer science. You constantly explained to him that you weren’t an entire novice to coding but the concepts of operating systems and databases simply did not make sense. He would constantly assure you that this was hard for computer science majors and that you had not much to worry about. Eventually, the one-hour sessions became longer as you both sit back and talk about random topics during "breaks". He even suggested an additional session to "help speed the process", which made your stomach drop in an odd way (not because your crush kept exponentially growing in the last six weeks).

That’s how you find yourself in the library on a Thursday afternoon, coming to the library hours prior to your session with Minho. Trying your best to understand the concept you both were supposed to go over so that you didn’t look too dumb and also because your finals is approaching in two weeks. You used to be the topper in school, and you even managed to stay in the top 10 in your department but none of that worked here. It definitely didn’t help to learn that Minho was an extremely talented all-rounder.

In the last six weeks, you might’ve slipped into a couple or almost all of the dance team’s practice sessions pretending to care about Hyunjin and Yeji (both of whom were surprised to find you there for the first time in three years).

Minho danced as gracefully as a swan while emitting the most powerful aura on stage. You had seen the dance team’s performances before to support your friends but you hadn’t really noticed anyone except those two till now. But now you could not take your eyes off Minho even when you heard the team and other audiences praise how amazing Hyunjin and Yeji were.

You shake your head to prevent yourself from getting distracted by Minho’s tantalising steps from the previous day’s rehearsal. All of this did nothing but feed the monster of a crush you were fostering inside. She was so strong now that calling it a crush felt wrong. You were down bad. But that is a problem for another time, you needed to learn this concept before Minho gets there in half an hour.

You’re not sure how long it has been since you started hyper focusing on the topic but you are brought out of your reverie by Minho’s rich voice.

“Hey y/n.” He sounds cheerful and there’s a cute smile on his face which makes the monster butterflies immediately rise up in your stomach.

“Hello.” You smile back as he settles in the seat next to you. This was another suggestion from Minho since the third week to "help correct your mistakes better", little did he know it only made you more prone to mistakes with him so close to you. You noticed that he was wearing his white hoodie and grey joggers- which you know now is his dance practice attire, and his hair is all tousled and messy. His cheeks are flushed from the practice and he is slightly out of breath as he takes his laptop out and settles down.

“You’ve already started this topic huh. Good to see you working so hard. ” He says with a genuine smile nodding towards your laptop. You smile coyly, stomach doing a little flip at the compliment (it never gets old).

“Ah, nothing like that. Just had time to kill. Thought I’d try to catch up so that I’m not entirely clueless for today.” He nods and looks at you for a second longer than usual. Just as you think he’s going to turn to his laptop and start the session he leans towards you and brushes a strand of your hair behind your ears. Time comes to a standstill as you process what just happened. When you recover from the tingle his touch had left on your cheek and behind your ear, you realise that he has gone to his work.

“Let’s start?” He enquired looking innocent and all you can do is nod. Your heart is still beating fast as you try your best to follow everything Minho is saying. Every time you got your heart to calm down he would turn to look at you from behind his glasses, a serious expression on his face which was way too close to yours for your brain to work.

When you start working on the code he leans between you and your laptop to point at the code on the farthest end of the screen from him. His face is extremely close to yours as you do everything to remain normal- on the outside.

Eventually, the session comes to an end and you slump back in your chair sighing as you catch your breath and look at Minho. He is on his phone smiling every now and then and your hearts drops as anxiety clouds your head. Not that you had any intentions of taking any action about your crush… but still the heart wants what it wants. He turns to you as he puts his phone down and removes his glasses.

“How come you had free time today, before our session? I thought you had a full schedule on Thursdays?” He enquires and pushes his smooth fluffy hair out of his face.

You have two thoughts in your brain at this point- a) why did he have to be that gorgeous, and b) did he remember when you told him about your schedule the first time you both met.

You straighten up as you answer. “Erm… yeah no my lab got cancelled. Prof has been sick for a week now so I was free.”

“Is that why you seem to be having a lot of free time lately?” His question comes out more as a comment as he gives you a smirk.

“Uh what do you mean?”

He runs his hand through his hair again.

“Nothing just been seeing you around during practice a lot recently… that’s why.” He almost looks shy as he says it, but the smirk stays put on his face.

You feels your cheeks and neck heat up and do your best to not look like a deer caught in headlights.

You let out a small fake laugh. “Ah, that… I was just supporting Hyunjin. And Yeji too, she’s my roommate you know?” You ask hoping he’d shift the topic to them instead.

He leans back on the side of his chair eyeing you with the smirk still in its place. “Yeah I know. I’ve known for three years.” Your eyes widen naturally at this new information. “Which is why I was surprised to see you there now after all these years. You don’t usually come to practice sessions.” He says calmly.

There are too many questions in your head but you choose to ignore anything that gives you even a sliver of hope. You straighten more hoping the stature makes you look at least slightly intimidating. Which, judging by the even bigger smirk on Minho’s face didn’t work.

“I- I came because Yeji and Hyunjin were nervous about their solos.”

His expression is straight-up cocky. “Oh is that why you were staring at me the whole time?”

His words might’ve affected you so much that you were embarrassed but you weren’t going to feed into his ego.

“Seems like you need a new prescription for your eyes.” You pick up your things, start to walk away from the table and pause to give him a sarcastic smile.

"Also seems like you were the one who was seeing me instead of focusing on your practice."

You walk away hoping to save some face before you feel his hold on your wrist. His hands are rough and he holds you just tight enough to stop you but not hurt you.

“Y/n I was just teasing… sorry if I crossed a line.” He sounds so soft and timid that you whip your head around to see him standing behind you with big eyes and a small pout. You sigh and smile at him.

“I know… I was too. Don’t worry abt it, Mr Tutor.” You try to lighten the mood by lightly tapping his shoulder and see him shudder slightly.

“I do like seeing you in practices.” He admits in a low voice, a shy smile on his face.

You are just a melted goo of a human on the inside. The smile on your face comes naturally but for once, you don’t feel the need to hide it. Minho made you lose your guard way too much but even then today was way out of either of your usual zones. For the rest of the night, you are a mess of nerves and excitement. Yeji doesn’t question it anymore.

Two days later, you arrive at the auditorium of your uni with the two other friends of your gang- Jeongin and Yuna. As you three settle down in one of the middle rows, for which you almost fought off a junior, you are giddy with excitement to see Minho perform. And Hyunjin and Yeji of course.

You had tried to go to the dress rehearsal the previous day, catching the last few minutes of the performance and it was safe to say that the performance was going to be a hit. This time you didn’t try to sneak around, instead you waited after rehearsal and walked back with Minho, Hyunjin and Yeji. The vibe between Minho and you had shifted since that evening, he had texted you memes twice the next day and the previous evening, you both had walked close enough for your shoulders to brush while laughing about baseless things. If Hyunjin and Yeji noticed, they didn’t say anything and even gave the two of you some space by racing each other. For all the grace they both had on stage, they were complete idiots.

Your heart starts beating faster as the performance begins and you watch in a daze the whole time. All of them killed it from start to end. You were almost emotional watching Yeji and Hyunjin shine bright during their solos. Minho was on fire throughout the whole performance and you thought you dreamt of him looking at you during his solo- which was practically too hot for you to physically handle.

Once the performance is over, Jeongin, Yuna and you walk over to the green room to meet your amazing friends. You run over to congratulate your friends and even manage a small "nice performance" for the other members. The entire green room is filled with members of the dance team and their friends, all shouting and laughing. Amongst the chaos and happiness in your friend group, you can't help but look around for Minho. Catching your eye Hyunjin tugs at your shoulder signalling you to lean in as he says, "Go to the backside of the auditorium."

You look at him confused for a second before he gives a pointed side-eye that says "Don't act like you don't understand". You give a shy smile thanking him and inform Yeji that you'll be back and quietly slip out through the back door of the auditorium as Hyunjin told you to. Once you close the door behind you, a cool gush of wind makes you rub your shoulders for warmth as the green room's ruckus dies into the evening's silence. You look around for him and see a silhouette standing at the right edge leaning on the railing and looking out at the campus gardens.

Taking a deep breath you slowly approach him. As if sensing your presence, he whips his head around.

"Y/N." He says softly and you walk closer to see his left hand stretched out. You freeze in your spot, five steps away from him, gaping at the hand. He sees your confusion, smiles, walks toward you, and grabs your right hand. You stand there watching him and feel your feet move on their own as he helps you stand beside him facing the gardens, hands still interlaced. Your brain seems to short-circuit as you just stand there, still as a statue, hyperaware of his touch and the tingles it left in your body.

After what feels like a minute or an eternity, you are no longer aware of worldly concepts like time, he clears his throat and you see him angle his body toward you from the corner of your eyes. This brings you back to reality and you turn your face toward him and see how gorgeous he looks under the moonlight, hair all messed up, his shirt still clinging from the sweat due to the performance and lips spread into a soft smile.

"Hi." He says with an expectant smile on his face.

"Hey," you hear your own voice sound distant and breathless. It would be embarrassing how weak you were from this boy if you didn't know that he deserved all the love and attention in the world.

"So... you really didn't want to see me perform I guess." His tone is playful and there's a smirk on his face.

"Wha- What no... I did want to see you perform."

"Then you just didn't like it I guess. Tsk tsk." He mockingly shakes his side to side as the girn grows wider on his face. Your face heats up in embarrassment and you thank god that the only light around the place is hitting on his face and not yours.

"I never said that." You say in a low shy voice (again, borderline embarrassing).

"You didn't say anything good about the performance either. At least to me." He pauses and looks at you before turning to the garden again, "I heard you throwing compliments around like confetti inside,, to your friends."

You immediately feel your stomach drop in guilt and very little excitement (The Minho wanted your validation!!).

"Oh. Oh no, I- I didn't mean to... It's just," you take a small breath as he turns to face you again with an eager expression, "I can't really think right now with you holding my hand and looking all gorgeous and hot, and I keep thinking back to your moves on stage which were straight up sinful Minho." The words come out before you can process it and your eyes widen as you realise what you said and see that Minho's smirk has grown exponentially smug before he breaks into soft laughter.

You silently groan putting your head down on the railing. Minho stops laughing and tugs at your hand which makes you slightly face him. "Hey, don't be embarrassed." He says with that soft, kind voice of his.

"Easy for you to say." You mumble as you look at your hands, one still intertwined in his. He uses his other hand to lift your chin up to face him, you swear you can hear your heartbeat as loudly as a gunshot fired into the dead of the night. His eyes are soft, a twinkle in them, and he has the prettiest smile on his face as he takes in your face.

"I still want a proper compliment Gorgeous." He says and you choke on empty air at the term of endearment (the irony rather). He lets out a chuckle at that and raises his eyebrows for you to go on as he holds your other hand in his. "Can you even breathe right now?" He jokes and you snap out of the daze.

"Jerk," you say pulling your hands from his, turning away with a huff.

"Y/N... come oonnn..." He whines and you involuntarily laugh and turn to see him pouting (lost track of all the embarrassing things you do for him at this point). "Pleaasseeeee", he says with the cutest pout and puppy-dog eyes.

You sigh. "Well, you did amazing." The pout is intact on his face, indicating he wants to hear more. "I- I couldn't take my eyes off you the whole time. I saw Hyunjin and Yeji only during their solos." You admit sheepishly. You are still not sure where all this sudden courage is coming from. You are not the most vulnerable or soft person, in fact, your friends constantly teased you for being nonchalant and tactful during most situations. Lee Minho was going to be the death of you.

He straightens at the admission from you, eyes widening and jaw opening in surprise. A smirk plays up on your face at the opportunity to see him lose his cool.

"Have you forgotten your manners or are you too flustered to say thanks?" You tease not letting the opportunity go to waste. His demeanour changes and the shyness on his face is replaced by something darker, like trouble. He slowly walks towards you, like a cat prancing towards its meal, and you take a step back till you are flush against the railing as he keeps walking closer. You think your heart will fail if he keeps doing it. He stops an inch from your face, placing both his palms on either side of you on the railing.

"Let's see who is too flustered now..." His voice is deep and gravelly. You gulp and stare at his face, not having the courage to do anything else. He starts leaning towards your face, his eyes momentarily drift to your lips and god help your poor soul.

"Min-Minho.. wha-what are y-you doing?"

Your voice breaks and his lip tilts slightly before he speaks, "Can I kiss you?" His voice has gone an octave deeper and your heart skips several beats. All you can manage is a small nod in approval and he shakes his head. "Say it, Gorgeous."

Jesus this man is out to kill you.

"Ye-yes." The word leaves your mouth more like a question but the smirk on his face tells you he is satisfied. He leans in more, your lips almost connecting and you close your eyes waiting for his lips to touch yours. One beat, two beats, three beats and the effect never comes. You open your eyes in confusion to see Minho has moved a little back, with the proudest smile on his face.

Before you can begin to voice out your confusion he speaks. "I will kiss you...", you're still confused, "Only if you pass your finals."

"Huh?" That's all you can think and say.

"I said what I said."

"What does that even mean? Why did you ask to kiss me and then not do it... are you crazy! I swear to god if this is some sick joke to you, I will murder you Lee Minho." You are fuming, your face is burning up and you're embarrassed.

"I- no no you've got it wrong. I'm sorry I didn't mean to... I was teasing. Its... I have wanted to do this for a while now... but I thought maybe you don't really like me or... God!" He groans and runs a hand through his hair.

"What do you mean?"

He turns around to look at you, eyes wide and his hand fidgets in nervousness.

"Y/n I- I like you... I have for a while. I saw you during a freshman-year party as you came to help a very drunk Hyunjin. I thought you were his girlfriend for an entire year because you both were very close so I kept my distance. Last year I got to know that you both were just friends and really wanted to get to know you."

He stops and sighs, he positively looks scared and tired. You feel bad but your own confusion and insecurity clouds your mind.

"Then why didn't you?"

He looks straight into your eye and lets out a scoff.

"Did you even know me until two months back?"

All you can do is stare back because you are guilty. Even you had been asking yourself how you had never noticed Minho in all the times you've hung out with the dance team after performances. You had even known Chan, the team leader back when you were freshmen. But somehow missed the one person you seem to care about right now.

"That's what I thought." He looks dejected. You really want to hug him, which is surprising considering you don't even like hugs usually.

So you walk up to him, closing the gap between the two of you in three steps and wrap your arms around his waist and feel him freeze. Your head reaches near his shoulder, and you lean into it because there is some unbridled courage in you that you are not about to waste. After a beat or two you feel his arms wrap around your waist and you wait for the butterflies and nerves but instead, you feel your heartbeat slow down. It feels... comfortable.

"I'm sorry. I am not exactly the most observant person. Especially around the dance team because I am way too in awe and kinda scared. I don't think I would've been friends with Yeji and Hyunjin if I had not met them outside of the team. But after the last two months, I don't even understand how I missed you. Especially with how you dance and not to forget that smart brain of yours. But yeah... I'm sorry" The words fall out of your mouth on their own but it feels right.

"Not your fault. I did keep myself very much out of the limelight because I was... I don't know, maybe scared of rejection. But yeah, wish I'd spoken to you earlier." You can feel his words. You also feel his heartbeat slow down.

"I don't regret anything that happened though." His voice sounds a lot lighter this time.

"Neither do I."

You slightly pull back to see his face and try to get out of the embrace but he holds onto you tight. An involuntary smile creeps up your face.

"So... what happens now?"

He thinks for a second and a glint forms in his eyes.

"What do you want to happen?"

You like this.

"Three things. I want you to continue tutoring me. I also want to be your girlfriend and... I need you to kiss me now." You see him start to speak and continue before he can. "If you say you won't do that until I pass, I swear to god Lee Minho, I will never let you talk to me or touch me ever again." His whole face goes into a pout and it makes you regret your own condition because it seems impossible to stay away from this guy- in any capacity.

"Then I guess I'll just have to kiss you until you pass and then reward you with more kisses after that."

He is grinning ear to ear, looking all cute and radiant. You're sure your also grinning equally widely. You nod your head fiercly and he chuckles with his head thrown back (Gorgeous, as always). He slowly leans in and your eyes close shut.

This time you feel his lips on you, soft and firm. You had thought about this moment far too much but nothing came close to the real thing. The kiss felt perfect, delicate but assured and blissful. It felt like all of the universe had frozen in place and only the two of you existed in this endless bliss.

That is until you heard hoots from somewhere and reluctantly break the kiss to see all of the dance team and your friends cheering on for both of you.

"Neither of us was subtle huh?" You joke.

"Oh please, I was so subtle I practically melted into the background for a year." You playfully hit his chest as he laughs and waves off the hooligans cheering on.

"Ugh, it's gonna be so much harder to keep my hands off you during tutoring sessions now." He groans and you can't help but blush and let out a content laugh.

Maybe the computer science elective was a good decision after all.

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onehundredelevven · 6 months ago

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You received a Christmas fic II !

Satoru's Ultimate Christmas.

word count: 1,030

cw: chaotic, still cringe, but full of fluff !

The warmth of Christmas lights bathed the bustling living room in soft reds, greens, and yellows. You had never seen so many decorations crammed into one space; Satoru Gojo had apparently decided to turn your modest apartment into the set of a holiday movie. Fake snow dusted the countertops, a massive Christmas tree stood precariously close to the ceiling, and there were at least three inflatable Santas in various corners of the room.

You sighed, trying to decide whether this was festive or just plain unhinged.

“Satoru,” you called, spotting him half-buried under a tangle of blinking Christmas lights. He looked up at you with his usual grin, the lights reflecting in his vibrant blue eyes like he was Santa himself.

“Babe! Just in time to see my masterpiece!” He dramatically waved at the monstrosity he called a tree.

“This is... a lot,” you deadpanned, crossing your arms as you surveyed the damage. He’d somehow managed to combine elegance with chaos—a six-foot tree covered in ornaments, candy canes, and strands of popcorn, but also... a rubber chicken?

“You don’t get it!” he said, rushing to your side and wrapping his arms around your shoulders. “Christmas isn’t just a holiday—it’s a lifestyle.”

“Pretty sure it’s just one day, Satoru,” you said, though your lips twitched upward despite yourself. His enthusiasm was infectious. “And what’s with the chicken?”

He gasped in mock offense, clutching the rubber chicken to his chest. “This is Sir Cluckington III. How dare you disrespect the spirit of Christmas?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Why is Sir Cluckington III hanging out with Santa?”

“He’s Santa’s emotional support chicken. You wouldn’t understand,” Satoru said with utmost seriousness, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Okay, Santa’s therapist. Whatever you say.”

☆☆☆

The chaos only grew from there.

After convincing you to decorate cookies (a task that turned into a frosting war, with you smearing a streak of red frosting across his nose while he retaliated by sticking an entire candy cane in your hair), Satoru announced it was time for presents.

“But it’s not Christmas yet,” you protested, brushing sprinkles off your hoodie.

“Details, details,” he said, flapping a hand dismissively. “Open this first!” He handed you a sloppily wrapped box that looked suspiciously like he’d run out of tape halfway through.

You tore the paper away, revealing… a pair of socks covered in his face. What the hell?

“Do you like them?” he asked, grinning like a kid on Christmas morning.

“They’re…” You bit back laughter. “Unique.”

“Unique? They’re a masterpiece! You can take me everywhere now,” he said, winking. “You’ll never be lonely again.”

“I wasn’t lonely before,” you said, slipping the socks on anyway. They were surprisingly warm, even if Gojo’s grinning face on your toes was mildly disturbing.

He gasped. “Wait—don’t move!” Before you could ask what he was doing, he whipped out his phone and snapped at least ten pictures of your feet.

“Excuse me?” you sputtered. “What are you doing?!”

“Relax, babe. I’m just documenting my genius,” he said, tapping furiously on his phone. “These are going on Instagram.”

You launched a pillow at his head, but he caught it mid-air, laughing. “You’re impossible,” you muttered, though your cheeks were starting to hurt from smiling so much.

☆☆☆

Later that evening, you found yourself outside, bundled in coats and scarves as Gojo gleefully dragged you through the snow-covered streets. He’d insisted on caroling, despite the fact that neither of you could sing to save your lives.

“All I want for Christmas is yooooouuuuu~! ” Gojo howled, spinning dramatically in the middle of the street.

“Stop!” you begged, clutching your stomach as you laughed. “You’re scaring the neighbors!”

“Nonsense,” he said, twirling you around in a makeshift dance. “They’re probably enchanted by my angelic voice.”

“You mean terrified,” you corrected, though you didn’t stop him. The snowflakes caught in his white hair, making him look almost ethereal, and you realized you didn’t really care if the whole neighborhood thought you were crazy.

By the time you returned home, both of you were drenched in melted snow, your cheeks flushed from the cold and laughter.

☆☆☆

As the night wound down, you found yourself sitting on the couch, a steaming mug of hot cocoa in your hands. Gojo sat beside you, his head resting on your shoulder as he scrolled through his phone.

“You know,” he said suddenly, his voice softer now, “Christmas isn’t really about all the decorations and presents.”

You turned to look at him, surprised by the rare seriousness in his tone.

“It’s about moments like this,” he continued, glancing up at you with a small smile. “Just being with you.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and for once, you didn’t have a snarky comeback. Instead, you leaned against him, letting the warmth of his presence and the glow of the Christmas lights fill the silence.

“Thanks, Satoru,” you murmured.

“For what?”

“For making everything so... memorable.”

He grinned, the chaotic sparkle returning to his eyes. “Oh, don’t thank me yet. I still have one more surprise.”

You groaned, but before you could protest, he pulled out a sprig of mistletoe from seemingly nowhere and held it above your heads.

“Merry Christmas, baby,” he said, leaning in with that same ridiculous grin.

And despite yourself, you couldn’t help but kiss him under the glow of the Christmas tree, fake snow still stuck in your hair and Sir Cluckington III watching from the sidelines.

#jjk #jjk x reader #111dumps #jjk fic #jjk fanfic #jjk fluff #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #jjk satoru #jujutsu satoru #satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x reader #jjk fandom

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vampiric-succulent · 11 months ago

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OUAW EP 45:

Spoilers!!

“WHY DID WE DO THAT” yes Gricko why indeed

Bit quick to jump to nudity there Torbek

Gricko is just full of great ideas today

“You are familiar with mirages” THIS ALMIRAJ IS NO MIRAGE!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Nikkie: “You don’t really understand how this works” Mace/Gideon, immediately: “I know exactly how this works”

This desert is getting eerily intense

I love how they’re showing Torbek gaining control of the Witchlight and the Other

“Together, as a unit, as you do everything, you decide to tackle this next obstacle” ACK MY HEART I FUCKING LOVE FOUND FAMILY SHIT THIS IS SO GOOD

How are y’all interpreting Gricko’s monstrosity connection? Bc I’ve been doing it as like a really enthusiastic zoologist but what if he’s also a monsterfucker

Sorry that was a little unhinged and sudden but I think i might be right he does have a thing for monstrous women who could decimate him with one move

Anyways!

Love how Frost always wants to talk first but Gideon is immediately “IM GONNA GETCHU”

Gideon is going to oneshot this tricobra/cobydra if he keeps this up

“Two attacks on Frost” “no thankyou ❤️”

OH SHIT KREMY’S DICE MOVE HUNGER OF HADAR. HOLY FUCK.

Rich is so good at flavoring this spell and its effects

Mace/Gideon “Don’t roll max against me” and then Rich doesn’t— that’s Kremy employing Husband Privilege right there

What is the realm they are talking about?? Ghettei? Gehettei? Whatever realm they say Kremy is bringing with Hunger of Hadar

Goddamn that’s a lot of damage at once

Torbek and Gideon and Hootsie bro moment 😎

“Torbek accidentally Longscarfed him” 😭❤️

WHAT IS THIS FUCKING LIGHT?????????

Love how Nikkie just keeps repeating the generic desert description like an NPC in a game when you try to talk to them too much

HOLY SHIT okay 1. The immersion hell yeah 2. Why. Why is there a swamp here again. The swamp was supposed to be gone. There wasn’t supposed to be more swamp.

SERIOUSLY WHY IS THERE A SWAMP

“Blow on my dice” there is no heterosexual explanation for this

Now I have this horrible image in my head of Kremy pulling an Entrapta and going “I just need a little more time”

GRICKO DONT CALL TO MR GARU

“I am the thing that remains when the alphabet is gone” this is giving me such a good idea for a Tower of Babel campaign wait a minute

Ah yes just like the 1999 classic film The Mummy—- *I am forcibly removed from the stage*

It IS TIME!!!!!!!!!!! HOLY FUCK HES RIGHT

Is. Is the swoose sounding like Bavlorna on purpose. Is this a plot thing. Please this is so important—- Bc there’s an hourglass on the archway, so it has to be time and also maybe the voice is important— Oh. Okay. So not like Bavlorna.

What is the realization Andy is having???? Oh my god I need to know

Does the fact that this is Nekhbet and the lion-headed guardian mean Egyptian mythology at all influences this part of the story? And maybe the Hourglass Coven in some sort of way if this temple is here? Was this temple originally of the Hourglass Coven, or was it taken over???

The emotion in Mace’s storytelling is incredible and then he has a your mom joke. Alright.

Andy and Mikey’s reactions are beautiful things to watch

“We’ve been free ever since”

Fic idea: Kremy and Gideon get married and uh. Yknow Gricko’s entire thing about getting Pa Coal to come to one of Gideon’s weddings? Somehow that happens but it’s a really sad moment bc Pa Coal is dead so it’s an urn and Gideon gets to have a moment just talking to the urn

OH SHIT THE BIRTH OF THE HAGS?!?!??? Wait wait wait I have so many questions— to be made into a hag, do they need to find this temple first?? Does this temple somehow lead to the hag hut??? What is the thing that drinks the brew in the hag hut?????? How did that being come to exist???????? How is this temple connected to the thing that makes the hags???????? Is this a temple of time or of memories and records????

What is the process of making a hag??? Do all hags come about via this process????

Wait a minute. We had a white horse and rider statue, now we have a red one— if the next one is black then these are the riders of Baba Yaga and maybe that is who makes all the hags— like a sort of Mother Hag situation??

Frost is right, I think, this is also a story or situation or whatever about choice (esp bc of the swoose at the entrance)

I need a series which is just Gricko explaining everything that’s happened in the campaign in extreme detail

“We hit rock bottom and we picked up shoooveeeelllls.”

Ayo Bavlorna what the fuck— Endolyn’s story was terrible but this is another level

So these hags are not actually sisters then? Or are they sisters because they all come from the same source? (Whatever makes the hags)

Yuuuup I was right about the riders!!!!!

Idk why but Kremy’s story hits for me

Nikkie this is so impressive. Holy shit— this isn’t in the module. She wrote these backstories herself. Wow.

And the flipped time order of everything!!! And the Granny Nightshade symbolism

Wait blue roses??? Like the ones in Twig’s eyes???????

WHAT IF THIS IS THE KINGDOM OF HEARTS DESIRE WHAT IF THEY ARE AT THE DOOR RN

Andy what are you doing

Oh shit. Next is the fabled Episode 46. Ohhhh lord. What’s gonna happen………

How much time has passed for the Feywild while they’re in the material plane???

Gahhhh!!!! The lore!!!!!!!!!!!! So good!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Wait okay there’s a connection to Prime but I haven’t watched Prime and it’s 91 episodes there’s no way I can watch all that rn but I NEED TO KNOW THE AVANTRIS LORE AND WHAT THE CONNECTION IS OMFG

So much happened!!!!! Holy fuck!!!!!!!!! And next is Episode 46 I’m gonna have my brain explode

#once upon a witchlight #ouaw #legends of avantris #kremy lecroux #gideon coal #morning frost #gricko grimgrin #torbek #twig toadspring #coalecroux moments #legends of avantris lore #ouaw lore #ouaw spoilers #gahhhhh

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lexirambles · 1 year ago

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You see, I’ve never actually posted here before. I only ever reblogged other people’s contact, to show my love for art and fandoms! But this… this just HAD to be put in tumblr. For anything to break my all repost blog streak, this deserves it. Every Undertale Yellow fan needs to see this absolute monstrosity. This has to be the single most unhinged thing that can ever be made forth Undertale Yellow, nothing can top this masterpiece of absurd proportions.

I was simply scrolling through my YouTube home page and found (blood and UTY spoilers ahead…)

THIS!

Look at this, look at what I’m looking at! I need to know that I’m not the only one seeing this. LOOK AT IT!

We have Starlo bleeding out with his entire groin out for the world, legs defying gravity with no care for the boundaries of physics or biology! He shouldn’t even be bleeding out, monsters don’t bleed; and he was shot in the chest, not the head. What’s even funnier is the reason his legs are up like that is the sprite is suppose to be slouched against a wail, not lying down. Dude just turned him 90% and let his legs reach for the surface!

Then we have Ceroba with the classic edgy anime eyes, crying blood, with the craziest text. The grammar in her text box is insane; it’s KILLED honey, not KILLER. These two aren’t even dating, they never were in Undertale yellow, this women is RECENTLY WIDOWED FOR ASGORE’S SAKE! This fandom ships it like wildfire, and I am the one with the flamethrower, but this girl is very obviously NOT over her dead husband yet. This poor guy tried to make a pun with her genocide battle theme “trial by fury” by making it furry instead, but it doesn’t even fit in the text box! I’d normally be mad at such a massacre of my favorite girl and an amazing song, but it’s just way too funny to even think of being mad.

Shockingly Clover is mostly unchanged, just a smile added. I expected them to be covered in blood with a gun in their hand considering what’s going on in the left side of this cursed image, but no, the murders child is the most tame thing here. Meanwhile Flowey looks very concerned over a yellow sans just chilling to the side, who also looks just as concerned about all this. I can just hear the conversation between these two.

Then in the middle, for some reason, there’s just DUSTER from MOTHER 3! Why are you here, who are you, how did you get there?! I’d expect Flint or something for the cowboy vibes, but nope, just a random dude watching a furry go absolute apeshit on a child while a living Starfruit shows us a different meaning to “high noon.” And you wanna know what the kicker is, the punchline to all this, the cheery on top of this pesto bismol flavored cake is? This is a thumbnail for a speedrun.

A SPEEDRUN!

This needs to become a meme, I don’t know what or how, this is simply too over the top not to get memed to hell and back. Make sunning Starlo the new family guy death pose. I need Ceroba shouting at the top of her lungs “I AM GOING TO TRIAL BY FURRY YOU!” I need whoever this random guy from Mother Three sitting in a lawn chair with some popcorn and a soda watching this shit go down. I don’t care, this just HAS a to happen!

#cw: gore #undertale yellow #uty spoilers #uty clover #starlo uty #uty ceroba #sans undertale #staroba #I apologize perfusely #especially to the Staroba tag #i need to know this isn’t just a fever dream

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dc-tournaments · 2 years ago

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The Order of Tournaments

Villain of All Time

Worst Costume

Queerest "Cishet"

The Incompetency Awards

Fuck This Guy in Particular Award

Most Unhinged

SexyWOMAN Tournament #Feminism

Super Animal Illegal Fight Ring

Deadest Corpse

Most Adorable Littlest Baby Heroling

Transgender Swag Awards

Worst Dad

Platonic Soulmates Award

Autism Creature Incarnate

Mental Stability Award

DC's Next Top Fashionista

The MILF Ever

Egregious Tax Evader

Pathetic Wet Cat

Disability Pride Award

Most Androgynous Ever

Suffered More Than Jesus

Asexuality Award

Best Costume

Senior Citizen Smackdown

Exile to Marvel

Gayest of All Time

Most Wasted Potential

Actual Best Comic

Sexyman Tournament (No Bats Allowed)

Transgender Beam Attack

World's Worst Sibling

The Bisexualest

Hear Me Out: They're Hot

Bestest Sibling Ever

Take A Vacation for the Love of God

The DILF Ever

Best Enemies

Gay and Homophobic

Nepo Baby Shame Fest

Kidnap From Marvel

Slut Pride Award

Most Egregiously Whitewashed

Most Convoluted Backstory

Cringefail Quote

Twink of All Time

Least Effectual Villain

Least Likely to Ever Kill

Most Likely to Be A Final Girl

Most Popular Obscure Character

God's Eepiest Soldier

Coolest Civilian

Horrifying Eldritch Monstrosity

The Siblings Ever

Biggest Hypocrite

Villain Battle Royale

The Hunger Games

Sanest Bat Micro-Tournament

Green Lantern Cage Fight

Most Likely To Finally Kill the Joker

Worst Live Action

Superhero Participation Trophy

Clone Cage Fight

The Supreme Redhead

Drama Queen of the Universe

Himbo of All Time

Most Genuinely Cishet

Worst Version of Bruce Wayne

Most Likely to Be Bat-dopted

Deserved Better Dammit

Best Lantern

Best Team/Family

The Real Triumvirate

Antihero Deathfight

Horror Character of All Time

The Girlboss Ever

Mr. Misogyny

Doctor's Worst Nightmare Patient

Stupidest Dumb Idiot of the World

Worst Hairstyle

Worst Boss Ever

Black Power Award

Most Successful Furry

Least Threatening Villain

Worst Backstory Reboot

Brain Rot Inducer

Best Sidekick Ever

Worst Little Gremlin Hell Child

Villain Recruitment Draft Pick

Anti-Popularity Contest

Best DC Character Not From Comics

Hero Mom Award

Hero Dad Award

Go Back In The Closet

Worst Luck

Worst Retirement

Most In Need of A Hug

Most Huggable

Worst Character Assassination

World's Most Fridged Woman

Most ADHD Ever

Most Villainous Hero

Most Heroic Villain

Next American President

Cutest Little Creature Thing

Best Speedster

Actual Best at Hero-ing

Most Iconic Duo

Most Insufferably Annoying

The Repression Olympics

Least Human Humanoid

Best Bromance

Most Genderful

Sexiest Corpse

Nicest Decentest Person

Most Likely to Snap

Actual Smartest Character

The Biggest Simp

Asshole of the Year

Deserves More Screen Time

Best Live Action

Best Chef in the Universe

Tumblr Funnyman

Hottest Being Alive

Next Canon Death

BAMF Award

Best Kryptonian

The Ultimate Royal

Best Amazon

The Counterculture Awards

Most Homicidal Twink

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armand-dearest · 5 months ago

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PLEASE be more delusional about tyrobot, genuinely it brings me so so much unbridled joy to see tyrobot on my dash in the year of our lord 2K25, you're the only one I follow who Gets them and I need someone else to be feral about those two so I'm not alone!! most insane ship in the series and I'm so here for it, 11/10

Hehe I've been loving them for almost 10 years at this point, I will forever be delusional about them. My original age gap old man yaoi. They're the blueprint for my Armandaniel obsession tbh, grumpy old man x younger, murderous, unhinged, deranged pretty boy. Hell yeah brother. I'm gonna spam random thoughts / headcanons I have about them now bc I never get to speak about them and I love them so so much 🙏

I just genuinely think the alter Tyrell truly loved was Robot. And I think Robot was the only alter in Elliot's system who actually sincerely cared for Tyrell on some form of human level, beyond seeing him as a tool. Or some grotesque monstrosity to be pitied or reviled. Also, almost every extremely homoerotic scene between "Elliot" and Tyrell was actually between Robot and Tyrell, not Mastermind and Tyrell. I genuinely think most people who think they ship tyrelliot actually ship tyrobot, but don't realise it due to the way the show is filmed with regards to Elliot's DID lmao

Also, it makes me feel INSANE that by the end of his life, Tyrell recognised that Elliot had DID and knew the difference between Mastermind and Robot. He could even tell when they were co-con and spoke to both alters calmly, nothing but acceptance and fondness in his voice. He paid such close attention to them. It makes my heart flutter a bit because dissociative disorders are normally very hidden by design, so for Tyrell to get to the point he knew such intricacies about Elliot's system means he spent so much time analysing every microexpression, every contradiction, every fluctuation.

All this said... These bitches are pathologically unwell and toxic ❤️. Tyrell got on his knees for Robot and pressed Robot's gun to his own temple after barely knowing one another, and never looked back. Even though Robot's avoidant ass constantly gave him the cold shoulder. "I will always be loyal to Elliot" + "I thought you were a God".... Girl. Giiiirl. Tyrell is such a good kicked puppy 🙏

I'm honestly still not over how warm Robot was towards Tyrell in the end. There was something there. Mastermind wanted to leave Tyrell to die alone, it was Robot who wouldn't leave him alone. I love them so much bro 😭. I need to make a playlist for them I think. I already have one for Elliot's system but I don't have one for any of my ships from this show, which is weird for me

Anyway, feel free to ask me about Leon and Mastermind too bc they're my second favourite ship from this show 👉👈

#mine #ask #mr robot #tyrobot

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greyplainsttrpg · 9 days ago

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JRPG-Plains Is Here

Okay, so some context:

@vixensdungeon made a post about there not being any mechanics-accurate JRPG-style TTRPG. People suggested ideas, but I agreed with her analysis that those ideas were shit. At no point is the game being "good" or "playable" any concern in a meaningful way. What is a concern is using dice to accurately generate the general feel of playing a JRPG in a TTRPG format.

TLDR: Here are links

The Game The Character Sheet The Big Dumb Dice Roller

My monstrosity has been unleashed. JRPG-Plains is a genuinely funny game. The critical piece to its punchline is that it is actually kind of awesome. Like, there is a good game here. Unfortunately, you would need to be really committed to the bit to actually play this game. "Why is this game funny?" you might ask. Because, as vixensdungeon pointed out in the original post that I cannot for the life of me find, some of the issues with JRPGs that needs to be accounted for are:

Really big numbers

Slight variance within these big numbers

JRPG-Plains accomplishes this by just making you roll a lot of dice. Like, so many dice. At a maximum -- over 3,000 dice. This succeeds in resolving point 1 and 2. The extra sauce in the unhinged-ness of this game is its "active time" system. Because a lot of JRPGs use a kind of Active Time instead of purely being turn-based, I found a way to integrate this into the game. Obviously, the game HAS to be turn-based because it is a TTRPG, so how have I accomplished making an Active-Time system in a paper and dice game? Standard Deviations!

JRPG-Plains, unironically, asks you to use this formula to calculate the Standard Deviation of your opponent's Speed (with their Average Speed at the center).

Once your determine how fast your Character moves, you compare it to how fast your opponent moves on average, and that determines your fractional Action Rate. For example, if you are below average, your action might take 3/4 turns to complete, meaning that it will take you two rounds to complete the action with a remaining 1/2 Action Rate remaining. It's really shit. It's kind of awesome.

The basic way this game works is that your Character has a Proficiency and a Power Level. The Proficiency determines what dice you roll (and the flat bonus), and the Power Level determines how many times that proficiency is rolled (Instances). This is expressed as Proficiency^Power Level. The game fundamentally relies on exponential growth to get to those big stupid damage numbers. This is the Proficiency table for reference:

For example, if a Character has 7^3 in their Strength, then they roll 1d10+3 343 times. This is a fairly low number, all things considered. However, this kind of power scaling is essential to get to the 9999 damage limit (and more so that enemy Defense can subtract from your Attack).

The game also features game modes to run this as a S/JRPG hybrid. So now you can play Final Fantasy and Fire Emblem at the same time. Hell yeah.

Give it a read if you're curious. I spent a decent amount of time adjusting the game to do what it is "supposed to." My friend also helped me out with the google sheet that will actually let you roll this many dice at the same time because all the online dice rollers just crash whenever you try to roll anywhere near the number of dice required to play this game.

JRPG-Plains is in a MVP (minimum viable product) state, so the document is not edited and most of the mechanics are untested. I am not confident what the future of this project will be, but if any of you are interested than you should let me know. I will keep working on this if there are people that actually want more of this content. Otherwise I will return to the content that actually makes sense lol.

#tabletop #tabletop roleplaying #anti 5e action #ttrpg #roleplaying games #ttrpg design #indie ttrpg #buy my books #jrpg #jrpg games #greyplainsttrpg #greyplains

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vaguely-concerned · 1 year ago

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A Stitch In Time First Read Reactions & Thoughts Monster Post Part 1

Basically exactly what it says on the tin! I kept making notes while I was reading and somehow it grew into this sprawling monstrosity that had to be split into three parts haha. In short: I loved this book, 10/10 incredibly gay and full of yearning Garak is there the whole time would recommend.

Quotes from the book in normal text, my reflections, reactions and self-indulgent bits in italics :) Please, please only click on that read-more if you're ready for some truly long-winded nonsense, I fear I have gone and been extremely myself about this and I can only beg your forbearance for it while I get it out of my system lol

Part 2, Part 3

- My dear Doctor:

Forgive my delay in responding to your kind communications. I wanted to give this modest chronicle I’ve enclosed a modicum of organization and update it before I sent it on to you. Thank you for your concern. I have thought of you often since our last meeting, and I am pleased to hear that your life on Deep Space 9 remains challenging and productive. Considering all the changes that have taken place I would have expected nothing less. And I’m certainly not surprised that your research proposals have been accepted. You’re a brilliant young scientist—even if you are genetically enhanced. As for my life here …

This is such a deceptively innocuous and normal-sounding beginning to what is about to be an extremely unnormal and unhinged thing to send a friend as a letter. He made it all of one paragraph of keeping it chill and I honestly think that’s pretty impressive all things considered. Thankfully Julian Bashir — who, let’s not forget, gave Jadzia his fucking diaries to read after much shorter acquaintanceship than what what we’re operating on here — is possibly the one person in the galaxy with the unhinged energy to take it.

(‘I have thought of you often’ he says. And how., as we shall see)

- Yes—I’m afraid you weren’t expecting this response to your kind inquiry; it goes a bit further than “Greetings from Cardassia—Wish you were here.”

Fhksjdfhasdkj well. In spirit that is exactly what you’re saying tho garak fhdskjaas. It’s just that you’re also pathologically incapable of shutting the hell up and for this I love and treasure you.

- So why Captain Sisko is so upset with me because I accomplished the goal (which he established!) of getting Romulus into the war against the Dominion baffles me. And it’s not because of the few lives that were sacrificed. Federation expansion has taken a toll in countless life-forms—about most of which they are blissfully unaware. The moment you step into a garden and begin to cultivate and prune, you become a killer. Perhaps the captain was upset because he had hesitated to do what was necessary to insure the integrity of his garden. Sentimentality is another trait that makes humans dangerous.

*Garak voice* Julian please tell me why your boss is so mad at me I literally solved all his problems for him. for which he’s wELCOME btw

Eyes open for recurring metaphors about gardeners, Tolan is haunting this narrative and it’s only polite to say hello whenever he shows up

- Indulge me, if you will; I need you as a witness.

Can I just say how fucking wild it is in terms of character development for Garak to openly admit he needs someone interpersonally. Incredibly fucked up that he writes both parts of this directly to Julian, though — both the part where he’s pretty sure he’s going to die trying to free Cardassia from the Dominion, and the ‘now’ timeline on post-war Cardassia where he seems to be dazedly coming to the realization that he might live, actually, and what that means to him.

- As a child I would go to the Tarlak Sector with Father, and while he supervised his crews I’d play by myself amid the black-and-white angularity of the monuments, imagining myself a great gul or legate giving the funeral oration for a fallen comrade.

Already we are starting to spot the thread, if you’ll excuse the expression, of why Garak might be Like That

I also came to admire Damar’s idealism, which led him to renounce his allegiance to the Dominion. If he had one weakness it was his propensity for long-winded speeches. But given the fact that none of us are perfect, the man would have made a fine leader.

As I stood at the memorial service, I thought about all the grand affairs I had witnessed here when I was a boy. None of our famed heroes and statesmen has ever had such a humble service—and none of them, from Tret Akleen on, deserved more than Corat Damar.

You are a species of long-winded speakers and Pythas Lok

- Dr. Parmak, the unit leader, worked furiously to stabilize the little girl, and when she was evacuated by the transport unit he broke down. He’s a very good man, this Dr. Parmak; he reminds me of an older version of you, Doctor.

Introducing Dr. Kelas Parmak, last seen in the then-noodle incident mentioned in The Die is Cast. Quite possibly the chillest person who has ever lived, considering he gets over the whole thing where Garak like tortured him pretty fast. (To be fair Garak DID say he was sorry. Between this case and Odo’s, that apparently goes a surprisingly long way lol)

- But Garak, you’ll say, there’s no excuse for killing a defenseless woman. And there isn’t… unless you’ve been brought up in our system.

I love that he keeps a little Julian around in his head to talk to at all times. That’s one of the most freakishly intimate things in this whole book of freakish intimacy. Garak has a little Tain on one shoulder and a little Julian on the other shoulder and they have heated debates as to the validity of murder as a solution to any given problem that’s put before him

- I also thought about this Cardassian sense of duty and how it is largely responsible for bringing those of us who are left to these current circumstances. I asked Dr. Parmak how an entire people can come under the sway of this duty and blindly give allegiance to a state that goes mad and murders its own children.

“Poisonous pedagogy, Elim,” he replied. “We believe what we are taught.”

Poison/Disease contagion is a metaphor that will wind through this whole thing,and different people mean different things by it. Parmak means it about The Facism, which is the right one. You’ll be unsurprised to hear that Dukat Sr. has a rather different spin on it, and that he’s wrong!

- But Tain at home was anything but mysterious. It was not unusual for Uncle Enabran to appear and take me away on some excursion that involved a long walk through a section of the city. During these walks he’d test my awareness, and challenge me to describe a house or a person we’d just passed. If I hadn’t been paying attention and couldn’t remember the details, the walk was over and we’d silently return home under the oppressive weight of his disapproval. He also seemed to know how I was performing at school, and if he wasn’t satisfied with my progress or behavior he’d punish me. I was a hard worker but I had a mischievous streak, and I enjoyed getting others involved in questionable activities and arranging it so they were found out and took the blame. On those rare occasions when I was caught, Tain would somehow find out and punish me—not for my misdeed, but for having been caught. And after he discovered my fear of small, dark spaces, his favorite punishment became keeping me in one until I had convinced him that I had analyzed and fully understood how my mischievous scheme had gone wrong. I found it odd that Mother and Father never had anything to say about these punishments.

. . .

At first I thought I was in trouble, and my face must have reflected this fear because Father attempted to reassure me with a forced smile. But the uncharacteristic falsity of his behavior and his barely concealed agitation only made the situation worse. I had never seen him like this. Mother’s face was a mask; it revealed nothing. She spoke as if I needed to clean off the day’s work before we ate.

Garak treats him and Bashir ‘drifting apart’ the same way he describes his young self being trained by Tain to go over his ‘mistakes’ — what did I do wrong? You also see it (almost most heartbreakingly to me) from Tolan when he gets sharper out of worry at the end of the scene where the agent comes to take Garak away to the Bamarren Institute:

I was stunned. I wanted to ask more, I wanted to ask about the dedication ceremony that afternoon, but I didn’t dare. Father had that look when one of the workers didn’t get it right the first time. But what had I done wrong?

Oh buddy. He’s so fucking confused. The only thing you’ve done wrong yet is having been born with some connection to Enabran Tain, Elim, I’m so sorry

- We were the “missing pieces”—and in order to find our place in the mosaic of civilized society, we had to be broken down and reconstructed from the bottom up.

Keep your eyes open for ‘broken down and reconstructed’ too, it will be on the final test lol

- The good captain gave me one of his bemused stares.

Sisko ILU. He’s not in this book a lot so I’ll take the chance to say it here, because I do.

- It was explained to us that until we became disciplined in our relations with the “complementary gender” we would make better progress this way. When I asked One Tarnal how we would learn this discipline without interaction between the sexes, he blinked and mumbled something about “distractions.” When I asked what that meant I was told that I had a loose mouth and given five days of hygiene-chamber maintenance as punishment.

“You don’t know enough to ask so many questions.”

Elim 'Genuinely & Guilelessly Too Deeply Pansexual To Be Able To Follow This Logic’ Garak

- Pythas/Eight descriptions because this is a bad mutual crush situation:

- Unfortunately, the only student left was quiet Eight Lubak, who kept completely to himself. He agreed to accompany me and quickly moved to the door. He was short and slender, and his dark eyes and long lashes made him look younger than the rest of us. He was almost too delicate for a Cardassian. I was not encouraged … but I had no choice.

‘Dark eyes and long lashes’ huh lol

I started to follow him, but he made it clear that I should stay where I was and wait. All during this, Eight was quiet and controlled—and as sure of himself as if he’d done this many times. How did he know where he was going?

. . .

His face was dark, intense with concentration; his brow ridges, which were unusually pronounced, cast shadows over his eyes. My heart began to pound when I realized what Eight was planning. These were certain to be older students, but he expressed no hesitation, no doubt.

. . .

I didn’t know then if I could ever call Eight a friend. Something about him was strange and impenetrable. But it didn’t matter. At least I knew there was one person in my section I could trust. How I had misjudged him. It was obvious that Eight had what Cardassians call a ferocious spirit—and that I could learn a great deal from him.

. . .

Eight also came from a “service” family background, and it was soon clear to everyone that he should have been designated One Lubak, a fact not lost on the actual holder of that designation who, judging from his behavior and speech, came from the highest echelons of our society.

. . .

Five was an athlete who also did well in class. I could see that he was attracted to Eight. As indeed I was.

Big round of applause for Andrew Robinson managing to sneak the skywritten subtext into the text like this, it’s an exceedingly rare gift to get to have from the media of this time

. . .

But by then the group had passed. What murk? Me? Have all the others been captured? Surely not Eight. I couldn’t believe that was possible.

. . .

The only member of my group who performed as well in all areas was the taciturn Eight.

. . .

The truth, of course, was that I didn’t know how to forge those kinds of bonds. I wanted to be closer to Eight, and to a lesser degree Five, who besides being one of the great Pit strategists Bamarren ever had was fair in all his dealings.

. . .

Eight remained for a few more minutes. I had the feeling that he wanted to say something more to me. Suddenly he turned and disappeared behind a barrier. The air was filled with whatever went unsaid. He was as shy as anyone I had ever known.

The boys are being useless lesbians at each other omg……… what must this whole mess look like from Pythas’ POV tho. He’s been keeping an eye on his friend/crush so he doesn’t get himself killed by running his mouth off too much to the wrong person and before he knows it the guy is embroiled in an inadvisable bisexual sandwich of betrayal and savage intrigue. I wonder if anything would have been different if Garak and Pythas had managed to actually talk to each other here.

- Eight was the only person who deserved number One as much as I did—maybe more. My solitary behavior was not always in service to the group. Eight and I exchanged encouraging looks. The support of my one constant friend was all I wanted. I sat there and shut out everything else.

*Garak whenever someone prefers Pythas over him* understandable honestly I’d do the same thing he’s the best have a nice day

End Pythas/Eight teen crush corner

- My mind wandered. I was sure that I heard sounds of the women students gusting with the winds. Suddenly mother materialized … she looked like she was apologizing. I wanted to tell her how much I missed her, but her image dissolved and … Father took her place. I knew he was telling me something very important, but I was growing dizzy and afraid that I’d join Six on the ground … his words were carried away by the winds.

Suffering and agony

Some assorted 'Just assure me that I'm not going mad, Doctor'/Garak's ever-tenuous grip on his mental health moments:

-I don’t know why I wasn’t surprised that he knew. Instead, I was grateful; it told me I wasn’t going mad.

A recurring worry for him I’m sure it means nothing! I feel the same fellowship with him as I do with Harrow in The Locked Tomb series, which I’m sure says even less, don’t worry about it.

And how do we even begin to rebuild a world that doesn’t exist anymore? A world that exists in my mind with the same arid bitterness as the dust in my mouth. I have never lived with despair, Doctor, the way I live with it now. It’s almost like a phantom companion that shadows me and casts doubt on whatever I do.

“Why save him?” it asks, as we remove a young boy from the rubble of a school. “You’re only keeping him alive for a future of privation and chaos. Wouldn’t it be more satisfying to join the burial unit?”

I want to scream at this phantom, to shut it up. Once I turned around suddenly and raised my hand to strike it. When I realized it wasn’t there, it was too late. Everyone in the unit was looking at me; I’m sure I must have looked like a madman. Dr. Parmak tried to send me home, but I refused—alone it’s even worse.

I’m just imagining Julian arriving on Cardassia like ‘hey yeah I got your letter and we should fuck about it right now but first of all have you told Parmak you’ve been having vivid hallucinations again because that’s very relevant medical information Garak!!!’

- But it was in the Pit and my work with Calyx that I suffered the most. My dreaming made me “an air man.”

“You have no grip, no focus. How can you find your strength if you can’t hold your place? Living in your dreams is like living in exile.”

*whisper* pls don't...

- As I tried to put faces on the shadowy children, they began to approach me. They became more distinct as they moved through the rain and haze. Can you believe it, Doctor? They weren’t my schoolmates; they were the Cardassian orphans from the Resettlement Center on Bajor we once visited. The orphans left after the Cardassian occupation forces withdrew. The same young girl was their leader and her lips formed the same question.

Have you come to take us home?

I jumped up. I felt the shed closing in, threatening to swallow me. I ran out into the rain and gloom.

“There is no home anymore! Can’t you see that? Look around you! It’s gone!” I screamed at them and fell to my knees in the sodden waste. They continued to stare back with that same look of fragile trust that I would somehow relieve them of their fear and bring them home. I couldn’t look at them anymore and dropped down into the muck. My despair was no longer just a voice; it was this monstrous world the evil had created, and it surrounded and overwhelmed me.

I don’t know how long I remained curled up in the mud. I felt myself being lifted and half carried, half dragged back into my shed. It was Dr. Parmak. He cleaned and changed me as best he could. He prepared a cup of Tarkalean tea, which made me think of you, Doctor. How ironic, another doctor pulls old Elim out of the muck of his despair, but this time he’s a Cardassian.

The fact that in the episode itself, Garak (in a haze of endorphins and practiced dissociation) is barely like ‘yes yes I’m sure we’re ALL very upset about the orphans. Or whatever. Well what do you want me to do about it Doctor it’s just the way of the world’ and then it just haunts him horrifically for the rest of his life forever and ever the end! Very on brand.

Garak does seem to genuinely like and care for children in general, which makes my heart all weird and sad

Also Parmak making Tarkalean tea and Garak being like ‘oh. Like Julian :’(‘ about it my HEART. The fact that he’s a serial befriender of very patient kindhearted doctors willing to put up with his nonsense is probably the only reason he’s still alive lol. Thank u Parmak

- A difficult move under pressure against strong physical resistance from an opponent … and something would snap. A painful blow might set it off, a whispered insult, perhaps just a thought or a feeling of hopelessness, and I would suddenly lose control and lash out like a madman. I became suffused with a raging, crimson anger that poured out from some black hole somewhere deep inside me.

I feel like we see the outlines of this still in him by the time of the show — more tucked away and harnessed, but definitely still there. He’s got an instinctive Fight response a mile wide, it’s just that these days he mostly expresses it by becoming incredibly fucking MEAN when he feels threatened rather than outright physical attack.

- And there was a soothing quality as it spoke of dry legal definitions. It acted as a balm for my bruises and bitterness. I began to feel such longings. It was like hearing music that you love when you least expect it. How I missed Mother, and working with Father in the flower beds. How I longed for home. I dropped my guard and surrendered to the voice. The tears I was determined never to shed accompanied choking waves of shame and relief, sadness and joy. I finally was able to admit to myself how unhappy I was.

*me with my magnifying glass studying the Palandine/Bashir parallels* listening to Bashir talk about Federation nonsense things presumably fills much the same niche in Garak’s psyche as this haha

- “I assure you, I am not in the habit of attacking people I don’t know in public places. We got our feet tangled in the crush, and he went down—just as, moments before, I nearly wiped out the scent display when he ignored the fact that I was standing in his path. I trust he’s not hurt.”

“I expect more from you, Garak,” Odo lectured. “We’re all under a great deal of strain.”

“As am I, Constable. Please, sit down at least. I feel like a schoolboy being disciplined by the docent.”

Odo sighed and awkwardly perched on the barstool next to mine.

Their dynamic is. Everything to me. Also we learn later that the guy Garak picks a fight with here because he’s upset Julian is hanging out with Miles (lmao oh… buddy) isn’t just anyone or on impulse, but is one of the most hostile-to-Garaks Bajorans on the entire station with a small gang behind him, and Garak knows exactly who he is. Which lends it a certain… something. Almost an edge of very roundabout self-harm.

“I can’t stay long. I have to finish dealing with this …”

“ … situation,” I finished. “You’re very fortunate, Odo.”

“How so?” he asked.

“These people have come to trust you. They rely upon you. You’ve made a real connection here.”

Odo merely grunted. I was careful not to mention Major Kira, knowing how reserved he was on the subject.

“Do you still want to go home?” I asked.

The question startled Odo, and for a moment the mask of official reserve dropped from his face. This was the first time I had brought up the subject since his admission to me during the “interrogation” in the Romulan warbird and Tain’s ill-fated attempt to destroy the Founders’ homeworld.

“ I … can’t say,” he replied ambiguously.

“Well, I can. There’s certainly nothing here to keep me.”

“I never told you how sorry I was about Ziyal’s death.” Odo could be quite sensitive in such matters.

“You did, actually,” I nodded. “But thank you.”

“Still, you and Dr. Bashir have created a strong bond.”

“Not really,” I answered quickly. “I’m afraid that what I have to offer has run its course. It’s certainly no match for darts.” I heard the bitterness of my tone, and so did Odo. We sat in silence for a moment.

“I understand you’ll be involved in the invasion. You must be pleased.” Odo steered us away from the heaviness that had descended.

. . .

“When do you want to schedule your consultation?” I asked. Odo—no doubt influenced by his budding relationship with the Major—was about to branch out sartorially. But it occurred to me that Quark was the last person he wanted to know about it.

“We’ll talk,” he replied, nodding to Quark as he briskly marched back to the Promenade.

AHdorable all around. Hilarious that Odo picked up on trouble in human/lizard paradise and, with the vigor of a person who has freshly had love work out for them for the first time, going ‘not on my fucking watch you’ll talk to each other if it’s the last thing I do’. Also the sheer readiness with which he expects Julian to be Garak’s safe place. What on earth does this relationship look like to outside observers. Especially to Odo, practiced observer of humanoid folly, who completely nails Garak’s whole deal in Improbable Cause to the point that Garak lashes out defensively over it.

- My solitary confinement was agony. The only way I got through it was to rethink all my attitudes about the Pit and the Wilderness and to focus on how I could make my stratagems more effective. Just as I had learned to do when Uncle Enabran locked me in that suffocating closet. Was this the universal torture for failure, I wondered?

Going through the whole book it is so stunningly awful that this IS the logic his inner world is shaped around for the vast majority of his life, right up until the ‘present’ part of the storyline where it’s being slowly deconstructed and reassembled.

- I apologized to the others for disrupting their family; I explained that I had great need of this creature. Not only was Mila (as I eventually called him) the answer to my current problem, he was as important as any of the docents at Bamarren, with the possible exception of Calyx.

;_______________________________________________________________; there’s no part of this that isn’t crushing

Unlike the last time, I had preparation and an ally.

Tain really had to work at deadening Garak’s ability to form loyalty to anything else but him, because left to his own devices and natural instinct Garak will clearly packbond with ANYTHING. He’s so desperate to belong to someone and be loyal to them.

- As the sun came up, the otherworldly beauty of the Wilderness was gradually revealed by each succeeding gradation of light. I was deeply moved by the presence of so much color in what had initially looked like a dead world to me. Beginning with a cold pale gray, the dawn flowed through a range of blues and into the softest rose and pink and then to a hot red that soon gave way to the merciless bleached bone-white of midday. I was able to see how much territory I had covered the previous night.

Can I just say how unspeakably tender it is that he takes the time to write this out in this. It serves literally no purpose in this narrative but sentiment — to be beautiful. He saw something beautiful once that moved him and he wants to share it with someone. What the fuck.

- I became increasingly concerned; the sun was getting higher, and the overhanging ledge was now my last source of shade. At one point I took Mila out of his wrapping to check on his condition. At least that’s what I told myself. I was afraid that if I was honest and admitted that the real reason was to solicit help from a regnar, the slide into total insanity would be swift and sure. I was getting desperate.

The funniest and saddest thing I’ve ever read fhdskjfas emotional support regnar that he names after his fucking MUM hours. There are things going on with Garak no psychologist could ever hope to get to the bottom of

- Three more members of the Furtan group were on the other side of the rock formation, but Mila had found a hidden depression that required some quiet digging to get into, and we avoided detection. We settled in and resealed the opening with sand and loose rocks. After an indeterminate period, the Furtan hunters left. As we waited for nightfall I fell into a deep sleep.

BB!Elim and regnar Mila like ‘OUR secret hiding spot’. (Seeing how much garak both craves and thrives on getting to have that sense of ‘we’ and fellowship tho. And knowing that’s going to be not only deliberately kept from him but made psychologically impossible for him for a very long time. We should bring Tain back to life so we can kill him again and more painfully actually. Mercymorn acid jail for a thousand years time.)

- While I understood that I would have to watch my step with One Charaban, I also acknowledged that I had never been in a manlier or more attractive presence. It was like encountering an ideal that I’d only dreamed about. As I walked back to my section and accepted the congratulations of my mates, I was baffled not so much by the appearance of this new and commanding person in my life as by my recognition of his strong connection to me. But what connection?

Baby pansexual disaster at his finest

- The other day, the Doctor, Odo, and I were at the Replimat having lunch, an event that Odo, after our conversation, had taken it upon himself to organize.

. . .

“But what about you, Doctor?” I asked, returning to the business at hand. “It seems there’s a movement afoot to have you replace Captain Sisko.” The doctor winced.

“Is this true?” Odo asked. We both looked to the doctor for confirmation. He sighed.

“There’s a group of … genetically enhanced people who feel that one of their own should be guiding the station during this emergency, and they’ve petitioned the Federation Council, but it’s Jack and his group, and no one takes them…” Exasperated, he broke off. “Garak, how did you hear about this?”

“My clientele talk and I listen.” This was also true: an idiot savant who wears his presumed genetic superiority like a badge of privilege walked into my shop and never stopped talking. Of course I encouraged him, and by the time he left I had heard all about some organized attempt to elevate Dr. Bashir to the leadership position. I could see that the doctor was upset that I’d divulged this information. Clearly this genetic business was not his favorite topic of conversation.

“Is this something we should keep an eye on?” Odo asked, studying us carefully.

“No, not at all,” the Doctor assured him. “It’s just Jack’s people. This was nearly a year ago, and I’m afraid they have too much time on their hands—like some other people I know.” He pointedly looked away from me as Odo continued to study us, trying to decode the undercurrent of this last exchange between us. No wonder he was such a capable security operative. Odo registered every change in tone and temperature and tracked the change down to its cause.

“Tell me something, Garak.” It was clear that he had found an opening for one of those deferred questions he kept on a prioritized list somewhere in his changeling head. He was still a basically shy and tactful person, especially when it came to other people’s business, but lately he’d become more openly inquisitive. I wondered if it was Major Kira’s influence.

Matchmaker/self-appointed and woefully under-equipped marriage counselor Odo……….you are Everything to me you dumb beige bitch. Garak goes a bit aggro in return when he tries to get too close to something tender but honestly odo buddy gooey friend of my heart maybe you shouldn’t barge into this particular glassware shop like a rampaging elephant huh someone’s going to get cut. Also Garak could have refrained from pressing on Julian’s bruises for attention here and we may not have had the rest of the scene, but alas.

This must be the lunch where we deal with uncomfortable subjects.

“But if Cardassia is liberated from Dominion control …” Odo went on.

“When Cardassia is liberated,” I interrupted.

“Would you return?”

“Would you return to the Great Link?” Odo reacted with sharp annoyance to the question.It wasn’t a fair one, because although we were both exiles, we were in very different circumstances. With the humanoid shape he was still learning to live with, and his deepening relationship with Major Kira, Odo was discovering a new mode of existence, a new link. He had an alternative, however difficult the choice. I didn’t.

“Yes, I know. You can’t say.” I was sorry I had asked again. It was a question he was obviously struggling with.

The feeling Garak seems to have towards Odo in this period where like… you know when you have a friend who has a lot of the same mental health issues as you do and you see them get better and start to flourish and you are genuinely so happy for them but also feel just how deep in the muck you yourself still are with no prospect of getting out. And the way Garak consistently wistfully includes Odo’s romantic relationship to Kira when he observes how he’s coming out of his shell and why he has reasons to stay.

“Would you return to the same Cardassia?” the doctor asked.

“What do you mean ‘same’?” But I knew perfectly well what he meant.

“To a Cardassia containing the political and social elements that made the current situation possible.”

“My dear Doctor, that’s also the Cardassia that made me possible.” I half-hoped my joke would end this conversation … but I knew better.

Julian baby please read the room and take this up some other time somewhere private maybe (and yet I understand how you wouldn’t think of that until later once Garak’s had a rare public freakout)

Absolutely heartbreaking in every way that garak seems so convinced he must have done something wrong or simply doesn’t have anything more of interest to offer julian and that’s why they’re drifting apart, when a just as likely reading from what’s actually on the page here is that julian feels he keeps getting it wrong and hesitates in case he makes the damage worse. Garak have you considered who this man is before you decided you must have fucked up and resigned yourself to the dark closet of self-isolation tain put in your head. I’m in shambles.

Also Julian is saying a lot of very true things about Cardassia in this scene that Garak needs to hear and that he’s clearly processing all through the rest of his time on DS9 and beyond, as angry as it makes him, and the good doctor means so well but he IS being incredibly condescending, and he keeps pushing even as Garak is signaling he’d rather not go in depth on this, especially in such an exposed public setting. (This is a conversation they SHOULD be having in private, both for emotional reasons and b/c Garak’s position on this station is a lot more vulnerable than I think Julian realizes, as the hostile comments he immediately starts getting during this convo show.) I mean I guess it’s not this man’s fault he is fundamentally British and autistic what can a bitch do fdjslkfhasj (I say this with all the love in my fellow autistic heart, please do not misunderstand me here). But it’s a very Julian well-meaning but flawed thing to do — he’s focusing on the principle and intellectual side of it, but he’s not taking into account that just maybe having to deconstruct the entirety of your worldview and belief system and then feel responsible for implementing them to create a better world afterwards could be an emotionally fraught process that requires not only reasoned political debate but personal, emotional support from a friend. He isn’t getting that Garak isn’t so much categorically resistant to the basic ideas he’s setting forth — it’s that he wants to be convinced on a practical level that it could even work, because otherwise it’s just a useless pretty picture.

(Which is a big part of their dynamic on many levels, I’ve always felt. All those times he challenges Julian’s more hopeful and idealistic world view — ultimately he doesn’t do that because he wants to break Julian’s faith down until he agrees with him, he does it because somewhere deep down Garak wants to be convinced. He wants there to be hope somewhere in the world, even if he won’t buy the quick and glorified ‘it’s easy to be a saint in paradise’ Federation version of it. And Julian’s version isn’t that, in the end; it gets tested again and again and he really, genuinely means it, even when it’s hard. Which is one of the most healing things about his presence in Garak’s life overall.)

Ironically I also think Julian believes so much in Garak and his capabilities that it simply doesn’t occur to him that Garak as a private person might just be like. Too scared and overwhelmed to even contemplate this, at least until Garak is upset enough that he can’t gracefully hide it. (“With your background and experience, Garak, I’m certain that you could serve as a liaison between a new Cardassian government and the Federation.” The Doctor paused and waited for a response. None was forthcoming. “I once suggested that you visit Earth as a member of the Cardassian government-in-exile….” oh so no biggie then Julian that sounds easy and painless and I’m surprised no one has thought to do this yet, this Obsidian Order wilted leftover sandwich of a guy is surely going to be welcomed with open arms wherever he goes among his people fhsdakjfas!)

I feel like this is one of Julian’s less sympathetic traits that he would probably feel such intense self-loathing about once he realized it’s one he shares with his father — this instinct to try to shape someone into a ‘better’ version of themselves. I think Julian’s version of this primarily comes from a much, MUCH kinder place than in his father; he has the will and ability to see the best in the world and in people, and he can’t help but want them to live up to that once he’s seen it. He fundamentally believes people can be better, can be good, when given the help and tools they need, and that’s such a beautiful part of him. BUT along with that there is also a danger of that tipping over into becoming paternalistic and controlling, of overly privileging the ideal you see over the person who is actually there right now, and trying to forcibly change the one into the other ‘for them’.

Considering Garak’s past experiences of being shaped and controlled by someone else’s idea of what he should be, I’m if anything surprised he doesn’t react worse to this, honestly! I think it speaks to the basic trust and goodness that exists between them that he doesn’t. Julian is clumsy but not malicious, and even here Garak does recognize that on some deep level.

(Probably because he’s also been touched by Julian at his best, in The Wire — where his support and acceptance is absolute and unconditional, free of the instinct to control anything.)

My voice had risen to an uncharacteristic pitch. It was still ringing in my ears as the Doctor stared at me as if he were studying a baffling microbe. I, too, was baffled. I had no idea where this outburst came from. I know that a distance has widened between us during the past year or so and I know that the holosuite program incident and the revelations of his genetic enhancement are the symptoms of this distance rather than the cause. It’s only natural—we’re very different people. I also know that he had only the best intentions in suggesting that I use the Federation model in order to influence the future of Cardassia. Misguided, yes, and somewhat patronizing and arrogant, but hardly sufficient to elicit this embarrassing and public loss of control.

I mumbled some sad excuse which the good Doctor and Odo were kind enough not to challenge and left the Replimat to return to my shop. As I passed Quark’s I caught his eye and we nodded. Why I included him in my outburst also puzzled me; I rather admire his industry and resourcefulness. I especially admire the way he consistently bends Federation rules so that they work for him.

That’s such a fair evaluation of Bashir’s intentions and personality honestly. Even this upset and feeling that distance between them, Garak still has complete trust in the Doctor’s basic good intentions and nature. (Are you really such very different people at the end of the day, though, Elim. Should the genetic enhancement arc maybe be telling you something here.)

Also such a hilarious element of the Garak-Quark relationship.’Sorry to get you caught up in the crossfire bro I’ve never thought of you as anything but an avaricious opportunist (complimentary)’

What is important is that I feel that I am necessary, that I function with all my faculties in the service of a greater cause. And while I wait for this invasion, is making Odo more attractive to Major Kira a greater cause?

It is in fact nothing but the greatest cause Garak. Getting Kira happily lovingly laid is priority one at all times.

- I had no real friends to speak of, and told myself that loneliness was the price I had to pay for success. I considered the games and behavior of my mates to be childish, and that any unnecessary interaction would only distract me from my work. The truth, of course, was that I didn’t know how to forge those kinds of bonds. I wanted to be closer to Eight, and to a lesser degree Five, who besides being one of the great Pit strategists Bamarren ever had was fair in all his dealings.

(I feel like this whole part is going to hit Julian in some kind of way lmao)

Literally just. Put me in a little box on the bottom of the ocean and leave me there forever I can’t go on. Also he’s SUCH a clever-but-socially-inept teenager in this part around the people in his group he doesn’t like fhdkjsa. Ugh they’re all so annoying and fake just leave me alone *eyeroll emoji* I didn’t want to be included in their idiotic conversation bb elim… I would die for your lightly insufferable but entertainingly snarky teenage butt in a way that actually makes me feel more kindly towards my own inner idiot 16 year old.

Also it’s no wonder he’s so out to sea when it comes to interacting with his peers — by all accounts he didn’t play much with other kids as a child and then he’s dropped straight into a social Lord of the Flies piranha tank shot through with Class Shit.

Inspired by my guide Mila, I would experiment at withdrawing my presence when I had to remain in the same room with people I didn’t like.

Honing his future customer service worker smile

Here follow some Bamarren and beyond observations I’ve elected to call ‘Sex Stuff’:

- Oh ok so garak gets some sexual Thing out of being beaten to a pulp after mouthing off through the same mechanism that made spanking known as the ‘English Vice’ across Europe when that was the go-to punishment in British boarding schools. I see. Many things are revealed to me

I looked from the pale, frozen face of Three to the others. They all looked like statues commemorating fear. And I was pleased. I realized at that moment that they were in my control, and that I would no longer have any trouble with them. Especially Three. I felt the power like a drug surging through my system.

And then, of course, the other side of the masochism/sadism scale smoothly coming in, he contains those multitudes. In Garak’s defense idk if you could go through a psychosexual development that wasn’t deeply, deeply weird in this sort of environment

“What do you want me to do?” I was trembling as if my body were chilled.

Well, I mean. You know fhkdsjha. And he’s rewarded with the first non-aggressive physical contact he’s had here, you say. (For reference he’s talking to Barkan, of the aforementioned ‘manliest presence’.) I’m sure this didn’t awaken anything in him or anything.

“Elim, why do you think we have these ridges?” She stroked the scalloped cords of cartilege and bone that ran along her neck and down her shoulders with a delicacy that stopped my breath. The energy had turned into molten liquid that was now flowing into my groin. The rest of the world was swallowed by complete darkness and I was back inside the tunnel.

“Because … we do,” I replied stupidly.

Fhdjskfhsdjkfhadskjfhas he’s so easy fdsjkfhas. And what a one-two punch of sexual confusion he got there. That one afternoon did irreparable damage to the libidinous development of this poor man and now he has to live like this.

For the second time tonight I was spellbound by another’s passion. In very different ways, Charaban and Palandine held me in their orbit, like powerful suns.

I was learning something new about myself—an emerging desire for power, but a power that had less to do with mastery over others than it did with connecting to them. The way I felt the connection to Charaban … and especially to Palandine.

And, I’m so sorry to have to break it to you like this, your biodad. I’m sorry Elim you’ve got something truly unfortunately Freudian going on here. It’s not your fault.

“I love the Blind Moon,” Charaban said softly.

“Why is it called that?” I asked, deeply relieved by the mysterious change that had come over us.

“It’s the time for lovers’ assignations,” Palandine answered. “The moon will give them enough light to meet, but not so much for them to be discovered.”

“So if you and Elim were true lovers I wouldn’t have been able to find you,” Charaban teased.

“That’s right, Barkan,” she said with a direct look. I shifted position in the ensuing silence and tried to hide my disappointment with Palandine’s reply, but at the same time, the pleasure I felt in the company of these two people kept growing.

“See?” Palandine suddenly addressed me. “You can do it.”

“What?” I was startled by her delighted burst.

“Smile. Look at that, Barkan. Wouldn’t you tell someone with that smile everything he wanted to know?” she demanded.

“The first time I met him—well, the second…” he corrected himself, “he had a smile that I wanted to wipe off his face.” He was referring to that early morning in front of the Central Gate.

“But it wasn’t that smile,” Palandine insisted.

“No,” he conceded. “Definitely not that one.” And the truth was that I could feel this smile throughout my entire body.

Noooo this is about to go so wrong…it’s all fun and games and bisexual poetry recitation under the blind moon until someone gets stabbed in the back like the Caesar (well caesar notably got stabbed from many many directions but you see what I’m trying to get at here)

- [The Klingon] looked up, and I immediately knew two things about him: he was inebriated beyond reason and he was one of their shock troopers, a callused veteran of hand-to-hand combat. I took a deep breath; as dolts go he was quite impressive. My spirits were suddenly and immeasurably lifted.

“You spoonhead!” he growled at me. I hated that word.

“And you … a great warrior who brings down dabo girls with a single blow,” He looked at me trying to decide if I had insulted or complimented him.

“P’tak!” I shouted, “I mean that you’re the biggest coward in the Klingon Empire,” He released the dabo girl, and as he moved to the narrow stairway I thought that he was also the biggest Klingon in the Empire.

I looked for my advantage. This was not an equal match, and my gigantic friend was in the full flush of a berserker blood lust. I sighed. I’m too old for this, I thought.

. . .

“Get security, Chief, and tell them to prepare the biggest cell they have … or a smaller coffin for me,” I said as I moved into the alcove and squeezed through the opening where the panel had been.

Listen I would apologize for including this here but he’s clearly getting off on this and I couldn’t do anything about it if I wanted to.

I cannot convey just how much my already intense enjoyment of canon is enriched by the knowledge that Garak is up to these kinds of hijinks constantly in the background when the camera isn’t on him. In his defense he was left unsupervised. O’Brien’s fond mildly exasperated help is just the cherry on top. ‘Well I GUESS Julian would be upset if I let you get beaten to death by a drunk Klingon so fine I’ve got your back’

(I made for the upper Promenade—and wondered if Calyx might be enjoying this spectacle from wherever he was. ;______; I like how much of an impact Calyx has on his development, considering how briefly he was actually in his life. Plus: Calyx; the Aiglamene of Bamarren? Locked Tomb/DS9 fandom overlap people, Let’s Discuss.)

“Help me,” he croaked. I was touched by the giant’s childlike surrender. I knew the feeling well.

“I will,” I replied and immediately wondered why I had agreed. I’m getting soft, I thought.

The greatest joy to me of a lot of this is, like… idk if these are all exactly the things that happened at every turn. In fact I’d say they very likely aren’t, Garak’s entire character taken into consideration. But they are certainly the things he wants someone — someone he trusts as far as he knows how, someone he earnestly wants to be closer to than anyone else, and also wants to see all of him — to know about him, to share in. This could just have easily been a story he told Julian in person over lunch to make him laugh. It’s silly and frivolous and fun, and as much at his own expense as a ludicrous person as to show off. To a true lying liar who lies connoisseur, unreliable narration tells more than it obscures etc. lol

- (About Barkan) It was the appearance of warmth that made his charm so attractive. A part of me wanted to tell him everything, to challenge the duplicity of his negative evaluation, but the clarity I found in the Lower Prefect’s office was still with me. Looking at him, I was reminded how Palandine had taught me to smile when I asked questions.

Apart from Pythas, who gets his own little twink corner, most of the people Garak is attracted to throughout this are his height or taller and slender but athletic. I’m just saying that when he spotted Julian in the Replimat for the first time he really saw a young man with the face of an angel who is exactly his type fhdjskah maybe he should have seen this coming for himself. Too high on endorphins and hubris to think this would awaken anything in him irrevocably and now he’s stuck with the consequences.

Why? I asked myself. Why?! For the life of me I could not understand why it was important to her that I respond. Why should she—so beautiful, so alive—be disappointed if I didn’t return her … what? What did she want from me? Friendship? Why me?

I was in turmoil. Her grace and manner, the way she tilted her head and half smiled when she listened, as if everything amused her … it was like a forbidden dream of the unattainable. The attraction was painful because I instinctively knew that while my life would be simpler and more controllable without her, it would also be as drab as my Bamarren uniform.

. . .

“Are you making fun of me?” It was at that moment, when I asked the question, that I realized just how afraid I was of being the object of her ridicule. She stopped laughing and for the first time she was speechless.

Losing my entire fucking MIND about how Garak is basically taking Palandine’s place when he approaches Julian at first. Odo and Garak ‘I love you so much I want to become you because it’s the only way I can imagine really being close to you’ handshake meme

Sex stuff end. For now.

I was about to leave when Odo asked about the designs for his “new” sartorial look. I could see that he was masking his concern, so I assured him that the sketches were some of my finest creations, and would be ready within the week. He grunted his thanks and I stepped out onto the Promenade. Love does make fools of us all.

I’m clawing at my face with emotion. Odo… And Garak did finish those sketches even after his moment of existential ennui over them before.

- Please for the love of god stop putting Six out in the merciless sun T_____T how many times must a poor lil nerd boy pass out before he can rest in the sand etc.

- “It’s not every evening we find Barkan Lokar strolling with a murk through the Grounds.”

“Lokar? My father buried the Legate, Turat Lokar,” I said without thinking.

“Did your father kill him?” Palandine joked. But I didn’t laugh. The Lokars were a legendary family, and the old man’s funeral was the largest I had ever seen.

Why is this so funny. Garak you are so fucking weird. ‘Oh yeah I know that guy my dad did the flower arrangements for his funeral’

- A spirited dabo game involving several Klingons and a serious-looking dabo girl I hadn’t seen before caught my attention. If Quark had been present he’d be giving her one of his congeniality lectures. I truly sympathize with the young woman; if I had to spend all day with these drunken dolts….

Literally so hilarious that’s his first thought. First impulse: ‘surrounded by idiots’ solidarity. Garak what were you doing day drinking at the devil’s sacrament/quarks at midday girl…

- Rom soon appeared with a small container of kanar. He was wearing an outfit I had made for him.

“H-here you are, Garak. I hope you enjoy it.” Ever the gracious host.

“Thank you, Rom. And please, try not to let your collar lie there like a dead targ.” I adjusted the offending fabric, and Rom sweetly tolerated my fussing.

I’m fucking crying what the HELL. Surprise wholesome dynamic that keeps going through the whole narrative. Garak just uncomplicatedly likes and appreciates Rom, with no particular ulterior motive. Plus: fussing is also how we see Mila express affection, like mother like son.

- I realized as I took a sip of my drink that I was in a dangerous mood. Drinking in the middle of the day. The Doctor would be quite disappointed with me. When I’m unable to immerse myself in work my mind becomes occupied by an invading army of thoughts intent upon conquering all equilibrium and peace. Kanar is a valuable if unreliable weapon I employ against this army. The pills the Doctor gives me are a poor substitute.

Julian, severely unimpressed: uh-huh

‘Would Julian want me to do this to myself? No. However he’s too busy playing soldiers with O’Brien to tell me so, apparently, so that can’t stop me.’ You petty lil bitch garak (affectionate)

The fact that he’s doing the The Little Julian Who Lives In My Head thing already here, where the real Julian is actually around but not engaged with him. I’m so sad. He’s managed to discover shrimp colour spectrums of loneliness and pining.

- Ever since the Romulan business and Captain Sisko’s near breakdown (outside of the Doctor, whom I told shortly after the incident, no one knows about this, but one recognizes the symptoms), I’ve been obsessed with memories of Bamarren.

The fact that he tells Julian about that. Presumably partly in a practical way to make sure Sisko doesn’t fall to pieces completely but he doesn’t seem to have any shame about it or expect Bashir to react too badly over it either. The trust…

- I must admit that I was quite taken aback. Evidently there is honor among dolts.

I’m genuinely impressed by how enjoyable it is in this book to be party to Garak’s inner voice. It’s so fun in here, among all the horrors.

- Nine approached me as I sat alone in our quarters reading the first part of Cylon Pareg’s Eternal Stranger, a saga spanning several generations of a Cardassian family during the early and middle Union.

*whisper of agonized affection* between this and his happy place being studying wormhole theory… he’s such a little nerd.

Nine swallowed again, an even more bitter taste, and marched off to a life of diminishing returns.

LMAO burn. And, as we shall see, not necessarily inaccurate.

- As I walked away I heard the custodian ask Tarnal what it was I had done to deserve this punishment.

“Nobody told me. But I know he’s got a mouth on him,” Tarnal replied.

The more things change I guess fdhsakja. Known across the school for being a) a sneaky lil bastard and b) never ever shutting the fuck up when he really really should

- “And you have to use that wonderful smile of yours more often, Elim.”

“What’s that got to do with listening?” That was the subject, and Palandine had typically made a jump in logic I couldn’t follow. She also forgot that I was a Cardassian male and smiling was not one of our strong features.

“If they feel comfortable with you, people will tell you stories about themselves that will reveal their deepest secrets.”

“But what if the stories aren’t true?” I challenged. “I could smile till my cheeks hurt, and you could tell me any kind of story you wanted—and what would I know about you except what you invented?”

“You would know, if you were truly listening, the kind of story I use to define myself,” she asserted.

“But it’s not the truth!” I maintained.

“Why not? Because it’s not what you believe? Or it doesn’t fit a definition of the truth that someone taught you? Look at people, Elim.” Palandine gestured as if the enclosure were filled with people. “Observe them. The way they walk and talk, the way they hold themselves and eat their meals. That’s what they believe about themselves. Is it the ‘truth’? Are they really that way? I don’t know. Perhaps it is a lie. But what people lie about the most are themselves, and these lies become the stories they believe and want to tell you.”

“As long as I’m smiling,” I mumbled.

. . .

“Truth, as we’ve learned to define it, is not only overrated,” she went on with a controlled passion, “it’s designed to keep people in the dark.”

This last statement stopped me.

“You mean the way we’ve been taught?” I asked.

“Of course.”

“What about our government?”

“They tell us the stories that we need to know in order to be good citizens,” she replied carefully.

“They don’t tell us the truth, is what you’re saying,” I concluded.

“There you go again. They tell us their truth, Elim, and we are here to learn how to listen.”

. . .

“Let the ones without power scowl and make fierce faces.You smile. It’s an invitation to connect with another person. And once the invitation is accepted, relax and listen … you’ll come to know as much as you’ll ever need to about that person,” she said with a smile that I greedily accepted.

“You would know, if you were truly listening, the kind of story I use to define myself,” she asserted.

“But it’s not the truth!” I maintained.

“Why not?”

SO when I was saying he’s taking Palandine’s place in this dynamic with Julian early on I was not kidding and I was not wrong hahaha. And it’s also what this entire book is, in the end. Trusting Julian to ‘truly listen’ to the story under the stories is maybe the biggest show of trust and vulnerability Garak could ever extend to anyone. Extremely The Wire-core once more.

The idea that tiny Garak was too outwardly glum and serious is. Amazing and brainbreaking. People feeling uncomfortable under his gaze b/c he’ll just like scowl distrustfully at them. Palandine I don’t know if you fixed him or made him worse but you certainly did something fundamental to him and committed him to the bit and for that I cannot thank you enough

- I no longer had Palandine to myself—but surprisingly, I didn’t mind, in fact I was pleased that Charaban was here. His stillness, like everything else about him, had grace and strength. I sneaked another look in his direction and marveled that this was the same person I had first encountered in the storeroom. He returned my look, and in the next few moments a bond grew between us that I had never thought possible.

You know if Barkan was really smart or had the capacity for extended self-control he would have just kept stringing Garak along as the third in his disastrous marriage. Garak is used to subsisting on the merest scraps of affection and consideration, you’d barely even have to feed him. (Ala Daisuke Jigen with many an evil ex, for the Lupinheads out there lol) A threesome here and there and maybe gently stroking his hair afterwards and you’d have him for life, probably. Alas or perhaps thankfully Barkan is ultimately just an asshole and not that smart.

- A Bolian client came down the steps outside the door and was about to enter the shop, but for some reason he stopped at the threshold. He looked at us, turned, and went back the way he came.

LMAO that guy was like ‘something really fraught and homosexual is going on here and that is frankly none of my business, as you were gentlemen don’t mind me.’ A real ally and a bro.

“I’m keeping you from your business.” Bashir stood up. “I won’t take up any more of your time.”

“I’m pleased you stopped by.” I was about to escort him to the door.

“No, you’re not,” he said quietly.

“Excuse me?”

“Garak, I come from a culture that has perfected the ‘stiff upper lip,’” he explained with the same faint smile.

“What does that mean?” It was a genuine question; there was a change in his attitude.

“It means that we never complain, never admit to our feelings, never ask for help. It’s just not done,” Bashir explained. “And those people who lack character’ and insist on airing their needs—especially in public—are subject to ridicule… and worse. Does this sound familiar?”

“Perhaps,” I replied softly.

“But I’m also a doctor, Garak. And I know which group of people suffers the most. I really won’t take up any more of your time.” He extended his hand, which he rarely did, and I took it. “Thank you for the tea.” He turned and went out the door.

I stood there for a long moment, deeply upset. I felt trapped within myself, knowing what I had to do to get out but unable even to begin. Yes, Doctor, it does sound familiar. But as to the question of which group suffers the most…

. . .

After Charaban’s betrayal I became as withdrawn and solitary as I had been when I first came to the Institute. I tried to spend time with Palandine, but it never quite worked out; between her regular duties and the recruitment and planning for the female Competition, she had little time for anything else. But there was something else, a distance that had crept between us that I didn’t understand. I felt ashamed, that somehow I had failed and it was my fault, but I found it difficult to discuss. This was probably the loneliest I had ever been.

1) Going NUTS over the fact that these are separated by ONE paragraph. Andy Robinson staring directly into the camera making parallels between the main love interests in this book like ‘Am I making myself clear here. Do you get it yet’. Also really interesting to make this relationship pattern a, well, pattern in Garak’s life, and not a unique element of his and Bashir’s thing (which Doylistically was basically a byproduct of cowardly 90s standards for tv writing more than anything else lol)

2) But there was something else, a distance that had crept between us that I didn’t understand. I felt ashamed, that somehow I had failed and it was my fault, but I found it difficult to discuss. This was probably the loneliest I had ever been.

The Palandine/Bashir parallel train barrels on, scoring a deep trail of heartache into my soul. Also in that case it’s so sad because he really hasn’t done anything wrong or anything to be ashamed of, Barkan and Palandine are the ones who fucked him over :’(

3) I stood there for a long moment, deeply upset. I felt trapped within myself, knowing what I had to do to get out but unable even to begin. + Tolan’s grief at seeing Garak after Bamorren: “He’s hard, Mila,” Father said. . . . “But to the point where he’s unreachable?” Father asked. “Where nothing penetrates? How can he express even his basic needs if he’s trapped inside a shell?” + Just as I had learned to do when Uncle Enabran locked me in that suffocating closet. Was this the universal torture for failure, I wondered?...........................................................................

4) More proof to my eyes that Julian’s side of this whole thing seems to be more about thinking Garak doesn’t actually want him to be there. He doesn’t think he’s welcome here or that he’ll be able to help more than he hurts with whatever’s going on for him. ‘I really won’t take up any more of your time’ AUGH

Garak buddy… every time he tries to get closer to you or extend some care, you bristle like a hedgehog even though you’re trying to do it in as polite and decent a way as possible — what is the poor guy supposed to think beyond a certain point lmao. (Though on the hopeful/beautiful side… what is this entire book but Garak actually taking the advice/suggestion Bashir gives in this scene to reexperience his past and put it in context — not in the holosuites, but in his own way by writing it all out in a way that makes sense to his Cardassian brain and then sharing that with Julian directly. Like. The last line of the book is ‘You’re always welcome, Doctor’. Elim ‘I will become emotionally healthy enough to ask Julian to come visit with an open heart if it fucking kills me’ Garak)

I’m so soft for how careful they both are with each other in this scene, though. Even in this difficult place where there’s stuff they don’t understand about each other and they are having difficulty connecting for… several reasons, they are trying so so hard to be good to each other. Which is why I think they have every chance of working out brilliantly long-term; once you’ve got a mutual respect, willingness to keep working to understand and communicate with each other even when it’s difficult, and that fundamental ‘I don’t want to hurt you’ good faith in a relationship you’re a good chunk of the way there, from what I have observed.

Julian cares that Garak was upset, much more than he cares about being right, and this time he shows it in a more private setting where Garak can take it in. They’re trying!

5) The implication in But as to the question of which group suffers the most… that Garak also realizes how much he’s hurting Julian by not being able to let him in…

Most of all the fact that Bashir in this scene is like ‘Listen Garak I get emotional repression. I’m literally British.’ is one of the funniest things that happen in the whole book. To me. (I’m Norwegian, culturally this has. Some overlap with my experience, let’s say lol)

- Six had long since gone home. He wanted to succeed so badly, but his body couldn’t withstand the constant assault of the training. I’m sure he found an academic situation.

Oh thank GOD. Genuinely so relieved to hear this. This is how many times a nerd boy must pass out before he rests in the sand and gets to go to normal university instead of murderschool, the question is finally answered.

- Tain has shown up again and I want to throw rocks at him until he goes away. And I know he won’t.

- My shed has become somewhat more bearable, but the clutter and confinement of the interior space requires that I leave the door open. To keep myself busy when I’m not working with the med unit, Doctor, I am engaged in a project I must tell you about. It baffles me. Perhaps you can tell me if I’m losing my mind altogether.

. . .

[Parmak] turned to me with the strangest expression on his face—and looked me directly in the eyes for the first time.

AUGH. (Plus, the fact that Parmak consistently calls him ‘Elim’.)

But what baffles me, Doctor, is that I attach no meaning to what I’m doing here. I’m just doing it because I need to. And to be truthful, I don’t see this as a memorial at all. On the contrary—if I could, I’d singlehandedly rebuild this city myself, piece by piece. I stood here watching Parmak’s blood dry on this pile of rubble, engulfed by a feeling of loss and utter mystification as to what these piles mean.

Just assure me that I’m not going mad, Doctor.

This whole section is the biggest mood and I’ve rarely felt closer to a fictional character haha. His quietly dissociated tired bemusement both with himself and what he’s doing and Parmak’s reaction is… yeah that’s exactly what that feels like. And ‘Just assure me that I’m not going mad, Doctor’ has done irreparable damage to my psyche, I’m going to be thinking about this forever

- Palandine gestured that she would deal with me and sent the mate on her way.

“So what did you use me for?” I asked.

“What do we ever use each other for?” she replied without hesitation.

“Answering a question with a question is an old trick, Palandine.”

“No trick. I needed a friend.”

“And you don’t need a friend now” I hated the tone that was creeping into my voice.

“It’s complicated, Elim.”

I was afraid to ask why.

“What did you use me for?” she asked.

The question truly baffled me. I only wanted her love. Was that using her? I would gladly have given mine in return.

Still gnawing on concrete over Garak partially reenacting Palandine’s way of approaching him with Bashir in the beginning. At that point he also needed a friend (and he needed someone to run to Sisko like ‘THE SPY TALKED TO ME :D’ to deliver intel through so he was also using him lol.) The way Garak picks up traits from the people he loves like he’s doing the soul version of Odo’s shapeshifting-as-closeness thing because it’s the only way he knows.

- “So it’s Eight,” he said, dismissing me from his world.

“I don’t think you understand, Barkan….” Palandine began to say.

“It’s not necessary that he understand,” I dismissed him from my world.

Barkan… you did not understand what you were doing, getting into an emotionally and sexually charged petty-off with this man. RIP your stupid ass I guess lmao

“I wanted to tell you. But when I realized … I didn’t want to hurt you,” she said with a gentleness that rankled me.

“I’m not hurt. Neither one of you can hurt me. I wish you a successful… partnership.”

Palandine is so interesting!!!! And like here’s one of the things that I think make a big difference in Garak’s relationship with Palandine vs. his relationship with Julian — who tells him exactly the same thing in ‘The Wire’, after all! (I don’t want to hurt you) Because Palandine doesn’t really mean it, does she? She doesn’t mean ‘I don’t want you to be hurting, I want to protect you from being harmed’, she means ‘I didn’t want to be the thing that hurt you; I didn’t want to be faced with your hurt’, while she is doing things that will inevitably hurt him. I think there is genuine affection and care on her side, but they’re in such a fucked up, brutal world and they’re so young.

‘I’m not hurt. Who’s hurt’ says teen crying quiet tears of blood as his world falls to pieces

“I love him, Elim. And I’m also ambitious. I want what he wants. You’ll understand this when you find someone to share your….”

Not me wondering how much of this has echoes to Mila’s relationship to Tain and how that’s part of what Garak reacts to — that survival mechanism of ‘I want what he wants’, subsuming and submitting yourself completely. Which of course is what a Cardassian is supposed to do to the state, and that Garak also does with Tain for the vast majority of both of their lives. The worst part is that Palandine really had some reason to hope for more — she and Barkan start out in a more equal position than it’s implied Mila and Tain ever did, that’s always framed as an inter-class thing, and while Palandine’s family situation is not as grand as Barkan’s it doesn’t seem like it crosses the service class/ruling class barrier. But the structure of the state imposed on every level of society right down to the most intimate and personal areas of life is going to crush the life out of that hope real fast. I’m sorry girl. Wanting to have a fighting chance in this world isn’t the worst sin anyone’s committed and tbf you are like a teen by all accounts

- “My name is Elim Garak. I don’t know where I’m being sent, but I hope you’ll remember me as your friend.”

“When I was told today that I was One Lubak, I was honored… and afraid that I’d lose you as a friend. Thank you. My name is Pythas Lok.”

Neither one of us ever took our eyes off Mila, who was still trying to blend into his surroundings.

Crying gently into my cereal

Garak ‘I wasn’t sure I could ever call him a friend’ vs. Pythas ‘Afraid that I’d lose you as a friend’

Something powerful was stirring deep inside me, and I began to shake. Mila snapped his head to the side, the way he does when he senses light or heat change. Convulsive waves pushed up from my center and tears filled my eyes, blinding me. I had absolutely no control over what was happening to me. By the time the convulsions subsided and my eyes cleared, Mila had disappeared into the rock-and-sand home he came from.

Absolutely sobbing my eyes out into my cereal

Spoiler warning: Garak having to go somewhere to be alone after something calamitous happens in his life because that’s the only way he can cry is a theme that will reemerge later and do unspeakable emotional damage to me personally haha

As I hiked back to the Institute, I had the thought that maybe somebody was doing the same thing for me and bringing me back home.

No baby you see someone is doing the exact opposite of this to you right now because you have a basic goodness and capacity for real honest love that Tain doesn’t and he’ll never in a million years set you free just because he loves you and it’s the right thing for you

- And Jadzia is gone. The station is a sadder and grayer place without her. I’m surprised at how keenly I feel her absence. Even though I know that her symbiont has been “joined” with another person … well, it’s not the same, is it? Indeed, knowing that Jadzia’s personality is somehow contained along with several others within this other person, I wonder how I would react if we were ever to meet.

The doctor has reminded me that these are personal choices, and it’s not for us to judge how one chooses to mourn. Quite so. Who can even begin to understand another’s grief? “Do you judge people by the clothes they ask you to make?” the doctor asked once. I bit back my response, but the point was well taken.

:’) little soul-healing brush of Julian kindness time

- “What does Tir Remara want with you?” Colonel Kira demanded, ignoring my offer of tea. Immediately an entire picture formed in my head of the scenario her abrupt question suggested: Tir Remara—a spy, perhaps even a changeling, preying upon a lonely Cardassian who was working for the Federation and engaged in top-secret work.

“She wants to have my children,” I replied with a serious look.

“You can’t be serious,” she managed.

“I’m not. Now do you want this tea or not?”

Kira should just have strangled you all those times she wanted to you snarky asshole fhdskja

#a stitch in time #asit #garashir #star trek #star trek ds9 #ds9 #elim garak #The great ASIT first read adventure #<- making that the tag for the rest of the posts!#ds9 meta #well nominally I do SOME analysis between all the keysmashing and nonsense haha #forgive me if I've gotten something wrong in this I've been uh. overexcited! I'm sure I'll be able to think clearly again soon (lying)#julian bashir #I'm not going to tag every char I talk about in this because I do love myself a bit but the good doctor hangs over everything in this book #so he gets his own tag #maybe I'll come back and get them all for book keeping purposes eventually but nOT tonight

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lucithekingofhell · 2 months ago

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*Lucifer slowly blinks awake and finds himself cuffed with angelic steel*

“Oh good you’re awake! Sorry for locking you up and keeping you in this super secret warehouse but it’s for the betterment of everyone! See I’ve been trying to create an ‘angelic duck’ by using your blood and normal ducks but I think science is caught up on the fact that you’re not an angel anymore even though you technically have the same blood. Because all I’ve managed to create is this monstrosity.

*I hold up a blood red duck with vulture-like claws and sheer murder in its eyes. It snaps at him and instead of quacking, it hisses menacingly.*

”Oh and I forgot to mention that it will eat you if you let it. I used to have an assistant to help me with this but she was mauled and eaten alive by a flock of these murderous ducks. Quite a way to go!”

(sorry this is so unhinged, I’m sleep deprived lol.)

(lol it's alright)

*he stares at you very confused and like what the fuck. He tries moving*

"...Why in the living hell! Are you even doing this!? Also that is not a duck! That is something from even deeper than hell.."

#lucifer morningstar #lucifer hazbin hotel #hazbin lucifer #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lucifer #luci #lucifer #hazbin

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koreis · 2 years ago

Text

Made another sticker a while ago :3 might print it later.

The joke behind it is that Sabo is the kind of guy who would favor psychological torture and he’s plain unhinged and what better torture than threat by chicken? An acquaintance actually put a terrible image in my head after I drew this. Here’s a block of text about it:

The man’s back is to you. He’s dressed in blues, midnight vest and icy shirt, but his warm golden curls seems to bounce with sunlight as the breeze sends them dancing. He cuts a regal figure in the nothingness, with his back soldier straight, like the kind of gentleman one’s parents would want them to bring home. However, you’d have to get to know him first. He turns his head. He’s looking at something. His eyes are the purest black, or are they the darkest blue? You wouldn’t know. What is he looking at?

You blink. And you’re in a chair. Looking through the eyes of someone from another life, or maybe another future. The colors are all wrong, too dark, and something is swimming. You think it’s your head. The man is there again. His face is youthful, boyish.

He’s far away, but he’s noticed you’ve awoken. He smiles. It’s a nice grin, but too much teeth to be a friendly one. Barely anything is visible, but a light shines above his him. A halo. You think. He sets his gaze on you, heavy eyes adding pounds to your shoulders. You squirm and find your movements stopped. You’re bound, trapped between those eyes.

“You’ve never made this easy,” he says, words echoing down the hall. He’s shifts his foot, taking a step toward you.

“Perhaps because they’re a far greater threat to you than anyone who would look for them. Unlucky for you, I’m not anyone.”

Another foot.

He’s captivating. Maybe it’s the bad lighting that makes you focus on his face, the delicate features behind blonde curls, the slight upturn to his nose, or maybe it’s just his face. There’s a scar running through it, over one eye. Objectively, it’s ugly, but to you, it’s like a flame.

Another step.

And he may be getting too close. He’s a stranger, and you’re a captive. Perhaps this situation scares you. It should. It’s bizarre. But you feel like you’ve met him in a dream once.

He’s holding something. Bright yellow, with red lips. A crude imitation of a bird, a monstrosity.

You want to ask about it. Ask about him. Anything. But you have no words.

He squeezes it and it groans something dying. He squeezes it again, and it wails.

You decide that you don’t like it. But you don’t have to words to make him stop.

Another step, and he squeezes it again. Twice now. Four times. The halls echo with its tortured screams.

And finally, his eyes are level with yours. Dark swirling storms. Your noses are almost touching, and his grin is feral. Fearless. All teeth, with a hook to his lips. And he holds his cursed bird next to your ear. It caresses you, smooth and gentle. Your breath catches. He squeezes it, and your head feels like drowning.

It sounds like death, like hell. The repeated wail of the ill at ease, the buried but not at peace, the restless. And then it stops. And he giggles with glee. Sweet and charming. Your eyes refocus. His face is dazzling.

“So. Will you tell me where they are?”

You can only answer in silence.

He frowns. “I can subject you to this forever you know.”

Your heart jumps at the threat. And you finally find your words. Some of them.

“What are you even looking for?”

He scoffs. “My memories. I know you have them.”

Memories? What memories? You blink again, and he’s holding the chicken in your face. Right. That’s what it is. A chicken. Out of the corner of your vision, you can see him watching, cataloging your reactions. He bares his teeth.

“So,” he starts, “What’ll it be?”

~~~

This is a whole excerpt of nonsense that I just wrote btw. TLDR: someone told me that they imagined Sabo walking toward them squeezing the rubber chicken in a menacing manner—I couldn’t unsee it.

I just moved into college, which is very exciting and scary. Working hard on the next chapter of my fic; hopefully it’ll meet my and readers’ expectations. Idk how writers manage to keep a balance between canon and divergence as well as in-character and expansion of character, kind of like finding the middle ground between salt and pepper in a dish. I guess it’ll come with experience. I’m so happy and weird about so many things right now. It’s a growing up thing me thinks. Love you guyss :333333

#one piece sabo #op sabo #revolutionary sabo #one piece #stickers #asl brothers #one piece fanart #crack post

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bloody-bee-tea · 2 years ago

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BeeTober 2023 Day 17 - Auction

“Hey, Geto, your stalker is here,” Yuji loudly calls out and Suguru stiffens before he slowly turns around, dread already forming in his gut.

To his immense relieve he spots a mop of fluffy white hair, which means it’s not Mahito. Satoru might be a stalker as well, but at least he’s less of the worrying and more of the annoying kind.

Satoru doesn’t even get a chance to open his mouth before Suguru says “No.”

“Aw, come on,” Satoru immediately pleads, flopping down over the counter as if he’s made out of water instead of flesh and bones. “Please?”

“I am not going to make your damn concoction,” Suguru says because the thing that Satoru orders on the regular is revolting and honestly a little bit worrying.

He’s going to die of diabetes one day, and he can’t be older than twenty two. He’s too young to die.

“How else am I going to survive then?” Satoru whines out, blinking up at Suguru who tries his best not to get lost in those damn blue eyes.

“Find another coffee shop?” he suggests and busies himself with wiping down the counter, pushing Satoru off in the process.

“And make you lose your best customer? I think not,” Satoru shoots back to which Suguru only rolls his eyes.

“Worst customer, you mean,” he replies and Satoru pouts at him.

“If you don’t make my coffee, I’ll stay here until your shift ends and then I’ll accompany you home,” Satoru finally says—threatens more like—and after giving him the flattest stare Suguru can muster, he turns around and gets started on Satoru’s concoction.

He pointedly doesn’t think about the fact that he has the monstrosity memorised, which is actually quite the feat considering that Satoru uses almost all their toppings in it.

“Aw, I knew you loved me,” Satoru sighs out when he puts it down in front of him and there is something entirely too pleased on his face.

“Now get out of my face,” Suguru tells him, not having much hope that Satoru will leave immediately.

He usually likes to stick around for a while, at least until his drink is empty, and Suguru knows that he’s quite friendly with all of the staff. It’s just Suguru who he seems to annoy to no end; even Shoko had a nice thing to say about him even though she only comes in to pester their manager Utahime and Suguru doesn’t even want to think about that.

“If it isn’t my favourite barista,” a new voice jolts Suguru out of his thoughts and this time, a cold shudder runs down his back.

He curses the day Mahito found out where he works and coming face to face with him now, it’s not the first time that Suguru debates if quitting his job here wouldn’t be easier.

The only thing stopping him is the fact that Mahito will find him again sooner or later and Suguru is not a job hopper.

“Go fuck yourself,” Suguru says, not even pretending to be nice to him and he can feel Yuji’s eyes on him.

It’s a badly kept secret that he and Mahito have a history and it’s even a worse kept secret that Mahito is an unhinged creep who is probably going to try something sooner or later.

Suguru is just waiting for the other shoe to drop and it’s making him sick to his stomach.

“I’d rather you do it,” Mahito drawls out and Suguru sneers at him.

“Not a chance in hell,” he presses out, even though he knows he shouldn’t engage with him more than he has to but he can’t help himself.

“We’ll see about that,” Mahito ominously says and Suguru clenches his teeth so hard together he fears they are going to crack.

There’s a tense silence for a few moments before Yuji butts in.

“A customer, how nice. Geto, you’re needed elsewhere,” he says and nudges him out of the way. “What can I get you?” he then asks Mahito and there’s only cheer in his voice but Suguru caught a glimpse of his expression and it’s pretty jarring to see easy going Yuji glare at someone like that.

Still, Suguru is thankful for it and shuffles to the side, as far away from Mahito as he can be. He didn’t notice that it put him close to Satoru though.

“You okay?” Satoru asks, his voice uncharacteristically quiet and even he is giving Mahito a considering glance.

“Fine,” Suguru shortly gives back though he softens a bit when Satoru frowns at his response. “Promise, I’m fine. He’s just—”

He doesn’t actually know how to finish that sentence but Satoru hums.

“Unhinged and dangerous?” he finally asks and Suguru huffs out an unamused laugh.

“Probably, yeah,” he admits, eyeing Mahito.

He’s scrawny as hell, but Suguru knows that he’s sturdy and lithe. He couldn’t take Suguru in a fight, not ever, but that’s not always the most dangerous thing anyway. He knows Mahito is fast, and crazy enough to carry weapons with him. Plus, he has no regard for his own well-being and Suguru would really rather not clash with him.

He might have to, though, if Mahito keeps up his stalking tendencies because Suguru will not allow him to find out where he lives.

“You staying safe?” Satoru asks, eying Mahito up and down as if he’s seizing him up.

“Trying to,” Suguru shortly gives back and then turns away from Mahito. “I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“Fair,” Satoru agrees and then smiles at Suguru. “Now, here’s the movie I saw last night,” he then says and Suguru immediately groans.

Satoru has the extremely annoying habit to retell a movie in excruciating detail and Suguru already feels his brain leak out of his ears.

“Not a chance,” he interrupts Satoru before he can even really start, which makes him pout again and Suguru sighs, almost immediately giving in. “You have ten sentences to describe the movie,” he relents and immediately regrets his every life choice when Satoru’s eyes start to sparkle.

They really are incredibly blue, Suguru finds himself thinking right before Satoru assaults him with endless run-on sentences. Suguru is not even sure he pauses to take a breath and by the time Satoru finally falls silent again, a good fifteen minutes have passed.

“You’re insane,” is all Suguru can say to the onslaught he just had to withstand and Satoru grins at him.

“It worked though, so worth it,” Satoru declares and it’s only then that Suguru remembers Mahito.

He whips around but he only sees Yuji who gives him a thumbs up.

“He left like ten minutes ago!”

Suguru lets out a breath of relief and even manages a smile for Satoru.

“Thanks, I guess,” he awkwardly says because he has to admit that it did kind of work and that it was incredibly kind of Satoru to distract him like that.

“Thank me by giving me my next drink for free,” Satoru says, batting his eyes at him.

“Absolutely not,” Suguru immediately replies because one, he made that drink often enough to know that it costs a small fortune and two, he’s not going to enable Satoru’s sugar intake.

“You meanie,” Satoru grumbles but he keeps smiling at Suguru. “Anyway, see you next time I guess,” he then calls out, dumping his cup in the trash and waving at Suguru.

“Not too soon, please,” Suguru calls after him but he knows that Satoru will be back two days later because he always comes in on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, just like clockwork.

“He’s really nice,” Yuji suddenly says from behind him and Suguru does not jump.

“He’s an annoying, arrogant brat.” He knows that because he spent enough time chatting with him when Satoru comes in to pick up his drink.

He’s also incredibly intelligent, self-aware, passionate about the things he enjoys, kind and somewhat of a nerd. Suguru has no idea what to make of him, if he’s being honest.

“Better than that other guy,” Yuji says with a shrug and Suguru has to agree with him.

Satoru is way better than Mahito.

~*~*~

Suguru doesn’t know why he didn’t protest harder when the promotion idea for the shop came up the first time, but when his name is being called out he regrets his every life choice that brought him here.

Auctioning each of their staff off for an hour had seemed like a great idea on paper—especially with how popular they all were—until Suguru has to stand in the spotlight and he spots Mahito in the crowd.

He really should have known better.

Mahito gives him a grin that makes goose bumps break out all over his body and he wonders if he can fake being sick to get out of this.

“The starting bid is 1.500¥,” Utahime calls out to the crowd and immediately there are plates being lifted.

Suguru thinks he’d be equal parts flattered and embarrassed when the bids go up to 15.000¥ in almost no time, but the fact that Mahito is still bidding as well makes cold sweat break out on his forehead.

He’ll only have to spend an hour with him, and they will stay in the shop so there is not really something that could happen but with Mahito everything is possible, and not in a good way.

If this goes on, Suguru doesn’t have to fake being sick.

“I see 20.000¥,” Utahime says and Suguru doesn’t even have to check to know that it’s Mahito’s bid. “Going once, twice and—”

“150.000¥,” a new voice calls out and silence falls over the room.

“What the fuck,” Yuji mutters out next to Suguru and Suguru wants to agree.

That’s an incredible amount of money and he thinks he knows who the voice belongs to.

“150.000¥ going once, going twice,” Utahime gets back into the swing after a short, surprised silence, “and sold to the guy with the number 8!”

Suguru would love to confirm if it really is Satoru who just spent an obscene amount of money to spend one hour with him, but before he can Mahito is leaning in way too close.

“You’ll regret that,” he whispers before he’s bodily shoved out of the way by a smiling Satoru.

“Suguru! I do believe this hour is mine,” he says with a nasty look at Mahito and Suguru can only mutely nod. “Wonderful, I ordered food and drinks, so if you would, please,” he sing-songs and offers Suguru his arm as if he’s a damsel.

Suguru takes it, because what else is he going to do after Satoru paid for this and then he’s being led away to a table that is covered entirely with the baked goods they offer in the shop.

“Who is going to eat all of that?” Suguru asks as he slides into the booth and Satoru grins at him.

“You. Well, us really, but you haven’t eaten today, right? So most of it goes to you.”

“How do you know that?” Suguru asks and Satoru’s grin softens.

“You were too busy preparing everything to stop and eat, right?” he asks and Suguru flushes with how accurate it is. “So eat up.”

“Thank you,” Suguru mumbles and picks one of the cones. “But you—really shouldn’t have spent that much money.”

“I really should have,” Satoru says and glares at Mahito, who is still standing in the middle of the shop, glaring at Satoru in return. “No way in hell was he going to get that hour with you.”

“That’s—nice, but it’s not really a long-term solution,” Suguru mutters, before he bites into the cone. “He’ll only be worse after this,” he adds once he swallowed and Satoru turns back around to him.

“No, he won’t,” he says as if he knows something Suguru doesn’t and Suguru slowly lowers the cone.

“What did you do?” he carefully asks and the grin he receives now is sharp and dangerous.

“I have some connections,” he cryptically says and Suguru stares at him.

“What is that supposed to mean?” A horrifying thought occurs to Suguru. “Are you with the mafia?”

Satoru bursts into laughter at that and Suguru feels that is entirely unfounded. It’s a valid thing to ask after someone said such a line after all.

“You really have no idea who I am, do you?” Satoru asks him once he calmed down, still way too amused for Suguru’s liking but the flush that is now on his face suits him wonderfully Suguru thinks.

“Should I?”

He’s Satoru. There’s hardly more Suguru needs to know.

“My family name is Gojo,” he says and Suguru almost drops the cone. “I’m the heir to the Gojo Group.”

“Holy fuck,” Suguru whispers out because everyone knows the Gojo Group.

“So you really didn’t know,” Satoru says, and he sounds pleased.

Him being the heir to such a family would explain how he can spend that much money on Suguru, but it still doesn’t explain his comment about Mahito.

“What did you do to Mahito?” he asks and Satoru’s eyes flicker back to the man in question.

“Turns out he’s wanted in several other countries. You really do not keep good company, Suguru.”

“It’s not company I choose,” he gruffly gives back, because he moved here to get away from him. “So he’s going to be arrested?”

“Hopefully today,” Satoru agrees and then turns a blinding smile at Suguru. “And until then, I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

“Satoru, you really shouldn’t have spent that much money on me,” Suguru says again though he can’t deny that he’s flattered.

“How else was I going to stick it to him and get a date with you?” Satoru easily asks and Suguru chokes on his cone.

Satoru wordlessly pushes Suguru’s coffee closer to him, and Suguru takes a few desperate sips of it.

“What is that supposed to mean?” he finally wheezes out and Satoru seems almost affronted.

“Well, my flirting didn’t seem to work that well, so I had to resort to this,” he says with a shrug and Suguru is glad that this time he didn’t have anything in his mouth.

“Flirting?”

“Come on, Suguru, you think I spent half an hour talking to the others? I only ever come in during your shifts anyway.”

Suguru wants to say that he didn’t know that, but he stops himself. He did know the days Satoru comes in, he just refused to make that connection in fear of what he’d read into that.

“You’re kind of famous,” is what he says to that and Satoru taps his finger on the table.

“I kind of don’t care,” he replies, clearly impatient and when Suguru doesn’t say something to that—still too busy processing everything he learned in the last five minutes—Satoru leans back with a sigh.

“Look, I’m sorry. If it makes you feel better, just think about this as me helping the shop out, alright? You’ll spend this hour eating and when this is over, I won’t come by again. I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable.”

“No!” Suguru blurts out and reaches out to take Satoru’s hand in his, fearing he’ll get up and leave right this second. “Just give me a moment to wrap my head around this,” he pleads and Satoru slumps in his seat.

“Fine,” he mutters but he doesn’t hesitate to close his fingers around Suguru’s.

It’s a lot to take in, Suguru can’t deny that, but the most important part right now is that he doesn’t let Satoru leave. Well, actually, the most important part is that he gives Satoru an answer.

“You could have just asked, you know,” Suguru softly says, moving his hand to thread their fingers together.

“You don’t ask people who work in the service industry out for a date while they are on their job,” Satoru gives back. “That’s just rude and puts you in a bad spot.”

It’s incredibly considerate of him and Suguru can feel himself soften.

“So you tried to flirt.”

“Hey, my flirting is great!”

“Except for the part where I didn’t even pick up on it,” Suguru shoots back and Satoru narrows his eyes at him.

“Well, maybe that’s a problem with you,” he considers and Suguru laughs.

“I’m technically not on the clock now. You gonna ask, or what?” he then challenges Satoru, who immediately straightens up in his seat.

“Suguru, I really like you. Would you go on a date with me?”

“You mean other than this?” Suguru can’t help but to tease and he fights the urge to kiss the stupid pout off Satoru’s face.

“You’re so mean to me,” Satoru whines and Suguru gently squeezes his hand.

“Did you miss the part where this is already a date?” he asks him and watches how Satoru’s face lights up.

“You could have just said yes,” he still complaints and Suguru laughs.

“Where’s the fun in that?” he shoots back and he can’t deny that there is something incredibly comforting about this banter.

“I’m going to take you out on at least two more dates, for the emotional stress you caused me,” Satoru mutters under his breath and Suguru lifts their still clasped hands to his lips, so he can press a kiss to Satoru’s knuckles.

“Deal,” he breathes out and enjoys the dumbfounded look on Satoru’s face, which quickly gets replaced by a vibrant blush.

“You can’t just do that!”

“Watch me,” Suguru shrugs and gets back to his cone, pretending to be entirely unfazed, even though his heart is beating away incredibly fast in his chest.

“Oh, I am,” he hears Satoru say and he refuses to acknowledge his own blush at that, though going by the way Satoru snickers, he definitely notices it.

They spend their time bantering like that, keeping their fingers threaded together and neither of them notices when the hour passes, both secure in the knowledge that they don’t have to keep track of that.

There will be many more hours ahead of them, after all.

#bt writes #jjk #satosugu #stsg #geto suguru #gojo satoru #coffee shop au #no powers #getting together #hurt/comfort #mahito #is a creep #stalking #protective gojo satoru #fluff

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w0efulboopsoul · 4 months ago

Text

A Look into Cara's Tragic Story of Eryndara's Kingdom of Howa'ah:

((EXTREMELY SENSITIVE CONTENT WARNING IS HERE AND IN TAGS.))

My memories are like a blizzard gone wild, a storm of screams and jagged tears clawing at my mind. Each one stings with the memory of brutal fists, the icy clatter of shackles, and a suffocating dread that paints my past in shades of unrelenting horror. At the center of it all, I see her—my mother—her hair cascading in waves just like mine, her back turned to me. A rusted shackle bites into her ankle, branding her a prisoner. She sways faintly, staring at the cracked wall, her body trembling like she's trapped in a desolate trance of despair.

My father wasn't a man—he was a nightmare stitched into human skin. A serial killer whose name slithered through whispers of terror among those who knew his darkness. He kept us prisoner in a house that reeked of rot and hopelessness, its walls soaked in decay. That night—the night everything shattered—wasn't different from the countless others that scarred my childhood. His third binge-drinking rampage that week filled the air with the sour bite of cheap whiskey and the jagged edge of his unhinged rage. Alma and I, barely more than kids, sat huddled on a threadbare couch in the flickering dimness of the living room, its sagging weight a cruel mirror to the fear crushing our chests. His rants were a twisted ritual, a prelude to the violence we knew too well, but that night, his fury sharpened into something new, something lethal.

With a guttural snarl, he lunged for Alma, his meaty hand tangling in her long, brunette hair. She stifled a cry as he yanked her to her feet, dragging her toward the cellar door—an iron-bolted monstrosity looming in the corner like a portal to oblivion. That cellar was his forbidden lair, a crypt he kept locked tight, its secrets known only to him and the women he dragged there to die.

My heart slammed against my ribcage, a frantic drumbeat drowning out reason. I couldn't let him take my sister into that darkness—not Alma, not my only tether in this hell. Instinct surged, raw and reckless, propelling me toward the nearest thing I could grab—a heavy brass candlestick, its base crusted with wax from nights long faded. My vision blurred, a strange pressure swelling in my skull until a sharp pop erupted on the left side of my head. A snarling voice roared inside me, primal and unhinged: Kill him now! Kill him where he stands! You'll lose her! It felt like something inside me snapped free, a beast clawing its way to the surface. My arms moved before my mind could catch up.

The candlestick crashed down with a sickening crunch against the back of his skull. Blood sprayed in a grotesque arc, splattering the peeling wallpaper in crimson streaks. He crumpled to the floor, his body twitching once before going still, leaving a gory mess in his wake.My mind spun, my senses numbed by what I'd done. Reality slammed back like a tidal wave, and I found myself sprawled on the floor, hands slick with blood, ears ringing with Alma's broken sobs. But another sound sliced through the haze—a chilling, guttural cackle that turned my blood to ice.

My mother, who'd only ever existed in a haze of catatonia or rage, was awake in a way I'd never seen. The rusted shackle that had bound her ankle for years lay shattered on the floor, her flesh raw and bloodied beneath it. She clawed at the walls with jagged nails, her laughter swelling into a feral howl—a beast unchained, a witch drunk on chaos. For the first time since Alma and I were born, she saw us—not with screams of denial, but with a twisted, horrifying recognition. Her trembling fingers dipped into the pooling blood of our father's corpse, smearing it across the floor in jagged streaks. "Taken out by your own spawn..." she taunted, her voice dripping with venomous glee as she mocked the lifeless husk at her feet.

Her wild eyes locked onto me, and with a blood-slicked finger, she painted an arched stripe across my brow, her touch cold and deliberate. "I was wrong, Cara," she rasped, her gaze feral yet piercingly lucid. "You are real..."

The weight of those words sank into me like a blade, but there was no time to unravel them. The night spiraled further into a nightmare as our fragile world collapsed entirely.

My breath hitched, a sharp wince biting back as his magic surged through the sigil again, searing my soul like a white-hot blade. The sigil retaliated with a violent crimson backlash of blood magic, flooding the room in a fleeting red glow that burned my eyes. The surge dragged me under, plunging me back into the memories I'd fought so hard to bury.

I was ten again, perched on the edge of a creaking wooden chair at my older sister's bedside. The air was thick with the bitter tang of medicinal herbs and the weight of despair, each breath heavier than the last. Kira had been wasting away for two long weeks, her once-vibrant spirit shadowed by the crimson death that ravaged her frail body. The laughter that used to light up our home had faded to shallow, rattling breaths, each one a fragile thread on the verge of snapping. I clutched a tattered teddy bear, its worn fur a reminder of better days when she'd braid my hair and hum lullabies. I remembered picking wildflowers together, her laughter brightening the world. Now, the room was silent, and with each labored gasp, she seemed to slip further away. I wanted to scream, to beg time to reverse, but I was just a helpless witness to the cruel march of time taking her from me. As night fell, despair wrapped around my heart, knowing that soon, our laughter and love would be mere echoes in an empty room.

My small fingers trembled as I watched her chest rise and fall, each breath weaker than the last, a haunting rhythm that echoed the fleeting moments of our time together. The doctor stood nearby, his weathered hands hovering over her with a desperate hope that felt like a cruel illusion. As the seconds passed, I saw his shoulders slump, surrendering to a grim reality. His bowed head was heavy with the burden of inevitability, lines of sorrow etched deeply into his weary face. He shook his head slowly, as if that simple motion could somehow soften the blow that we all dreaded. Kira's hand, so delicate and cold in his grasp, slipped free and fell limp against the threadbare blanket, a cruel reminder of the life that once pulsed with warmth and laughter. I stifled a sob, feeling an unbearable weight settle in my chest as the room grew quiet, the air thick with grief. The flickering light overhead seemed to dim, casting shadows that mirrored my despair. In that moment, time itself felt like it had frozen, trapping us in a heartbreaking farewell. The world continued to spin outside, but within these four walls, a piece of our hearts shattered, leaving us adrift in an ocean of silence and sorrow.

"Time of death... 10:00 p.m.," he intoned, his voice a hollow echo in the suffocating silence.The teddy bear slipped from my grasp, tumbling to the floor with a soft, muffled thud, like a gentle surrender to a reality too heavy to bear. Silent tears streamed down my cheeks, each drop a silent cry for a world where sisters didn't vanish into shadows, leaving behind echoes of laughter that would never fade. I sat there, paralyzed by grief, the ache in my chest swelling with a fierce intensity, as if it were a black hole determined to consume every shred of light. The sound of the doctor's footsteps faded into the night, a haunting reminder that some things are irretrievable. In that moment, I felt utterly lost, drowning in a despair too deep for words.

Now I was eleven, trapped at the slavers' docks, the air thick with the stench of salt and filth. A man with a serpent tattoo coiled around his forearm yanked me forward with brutal force, the rusted chain on my shackles biting into my raw, bleeding skin. My face was a battered ruin—swollen, bloodied, one eye nearly sealed shut, the other weeping tears that mingled with the blood seeping from my cut cheeks and split lips. I staggered forward in eerie silence, my voice stolen by pain and despair, each step a flicker of defiance in my broken frame.

The guard, a massive figure with an infuriatingly lazy drawl, sat there as if the brutality he'd unleashed didn't even touch him. He chuckled and prattled on, completely unfazed, as if dragging me through hell was just another mundane chore. He spoke about his wife's cooking, casually mentioning that she was six weeks along with their first child, his tone annoyingly nonchalant—as if he were discussing the weather and not the horror he was inflicting. How could he be so callous? The sheer audacity of his indifference was enough to set my blood boiling. My fractured mind latched onto his words, filing away every detail through the haze of agony. He wasn't just a grunt; he barked orders at the younger guards with the authority of a high-ranking officer—a war general, slumming it at the docks for reasons I couldn't grasp, his polished boots a stark contrast to the blood-slicked planks beneath us.

I was nineteen now, confined in a dank cell at the docks, my ankles shackled to the cold floor. Less battered but gaunt and filthy, my frail frame draped in tattered rags, I sat motionless, my focus consumed by the careful carving of a vipe cat bone—a remnant of a scavenged meal—its tip honed to a deadly point. Silence had become my weapon, a blade of stillness that dulled the guards' vigilance until I faded into the shadows of their awareness.

The serpent-tattooed guard's voice cut through the quiet. My blue eyes widened, a feral glint sparking within them as I listened. He spoke his name—Voxrilies the Second—and outlined the routine: inspect and brand the newcomers, keep the others subdued, check the pits, then the shift change—the exact moment I'd marked for my escape. I sat in stark silence, a statue among the chaos, as they prattled on. "That blonde one? Been off her rocker since I brought her in. She giving trouble?" The other shook his head. "Nah, just wondering why her hair's so blonde—like snow in the sun..."

What an odd thing to wonder, I thought, a flicker of grim amusement curling in my chest. Yes, hold onto those trivial thoughts. Go on, convince yourself that I'm just a shattered doll, easily dismissed and forgotten. Little do you know that each underestimated glance fuels my cunning escape. Just wait—my freedom will be all the more exhilarating.I had just clawed my way out of my cell, emerging into the open air, when I came face-to-face with another slave. His gaunt face froze in disbelief, his pupils shrinking to pinpricks as I raised my hands in a desperate, placating gesture. "No... no... shh, please..." My voice trembled, barely a whisper, but a curse slipped out as he turned to flee—likely to turn me in.

The berserker gene buried deep within me roared to life. That familiar pop erupted in my skull, and the voice screamed: Fine, if you're going to panic and pit me against you... I choose ME! I will not die! I am not cattle! Hesitate, and you lose it all! Kill him now! It propelled me forward in a predatory lunge, my body slamming into his as we crashed to the ground. Fear and panic drowned my senses as the feral instinct took over. My hands found his neck, fingers tightening, squeezing, shaking—until a sickening crunch echoed through the air. The snow beneath us seeped ruby red, and I froze, straddling the limp body, my ragged breaths cutting through the silence.

My eyes shrank in horror as the reality slammed into me. "No... no... nononono... p-please... oh God, blood... n-nooo...!" My pleas tumbled out in a frantic rush as I lifted trembling hands to the wounds I'd inflicted. The sound of approaching guards jolted me from my stupor. I scrambled to my feet and bolted into the shadows, running until the compound was a distant nightmare, my legs carrying me deep into the frozen wilds of Howa'ah. Two months later, winter's grip tightened around the land. I was nineteen, had regained some weight, my complexion healthier despite the lingering hardships. My rags were sturdier, though still threadbare. A blizzard loomed, its biting winds urging me to find warmer garb. I stumbled upon a stash of clothing and armor—better than what I had—and claimed them swiftly, armguards and all, before snatching two jugs of beer from a nearby barn. Retreating into the dense forest, I wasn't alone anymore but accompanied by Thrym, my bear spirit.

"Heya, buddy," I called, my voice carrying a lightness I hadn't felt in years. "I nabbed these from that village... Ever had beer before?!" I paused, then grinned. "Oh, don't worry—neither have I. We can try this together!" Another pause, softer now. "Thrym... I... I want us to try... all sorts of new things now..." A genuine smile broke across my face, my blue eyes alight with freedom, all teeth and unrestrained laughter as I drank—far too young—with the massive bear spirit at my side, our bond a defiant warmth against the winter's chill. My mind swirls like a storm, fierce winds howling through a dance of ice and snowflakes. At nineteen, I stood in the sun-drenched summers of Howa'ah, healthier now, my vibrant eyes sparkling with newfound light. I clutched an empty coin sack, its fabric worn from my desperate grip. Before me loomed a faded bounty quest board, cluttered with tattered job listings and weathered wanted posters, each a fleeting hope. I knew survival meant a job—a real one—to free myself from the chains of thievery that had once bound me. But the challenge weighed heavy; I could barely read, write, or count—skills stolen by a childhood of torment.

My past had left me isolated, every scrap of knowledge gleaned from my older sister, Kira, whose wisdom had been a guiding star in the darkness. As the thought settled uneasily, my blue eyes caught a poster: "The Academy of Beast Bounty Hunting & Taming: You think you've got the guts?" My gaze dropped to the requirements: Ability to fight. Guts. Glory. No need to read or write. Age restriction: 17.

A joyous shout burst from my lips as I leaped into the air, heels kicking together in celebration. At that moment, nothing mattered more than landing a job that could finally mean real money.The memory shifted to the Academy on the day of my entrance exams. My greatest challenge stood before me: Stratus, a striking woman with fiery red hair cascading like a river of flame, her pale skin glowing against piercing blue eyes that burned like a wyvern's. She towered over me, her presence regal and commanding. With a fluid motion, she drew back the string of an enchanted bow and released an arrow infused with magic. It screamed through the sky like a meteor, embedding itself in an enchanted stone pillar draped in creeping vines that writhed with malevolent intent.

The objective? Climb the pillar, dodge the vines' immobilizing powders, dispel the enchantment with Thrym's aid, and extract the arrow—all within five days. The challenge was monumental, but so was my resolve.

For four grueling days, I tried and failed—once, twice, forty exasperating times. Drenched in mud, my golden hair matted with dirt, my skin streaked with blood and grime, I stood unbowed. Mentors mocked my slight frame, sneering "shortstack" and "dollface," taunting, "You'll get hurt, little princess," or "You'll be dead before you know it, kid."

But Stratus was different. She stood apart, a silent sentinel, seeing beyond my size to the fierce spirit burning within me. On the fourth night, under a shroud of darkness, she approached. "You're not ready for this line of work, child," she said firmly, ignoring the anguish in my eyes as she handed over my belongings. "Go home. Find your parents and a good man to marry." Each word struck like a dagger.

She studied me, noting the betrayal in my tear-brimmed eyes. "A hint—the vines hate frost..." She dropped my bag with a thud and turned sharply, her fiery hair streaming behind her like a comet's tail as she vanished into the night.

Tears burst forth as I screamed, raw and anguished. I had no home, no parents—nothing but the ground beneath my feet in a world that felt increasingly hostile.By dawn, Stratus stepped onto the training grounds, her breath mingling with the crisp air. I sent an enchanted arrow slicing through the stillness, embedding it at her feet. Her blue eyes darted upward to me, perched atop a glacial pillar, the sun casting a halo around me. I hunched forward, eyes glowing with primal intensity, the other half of the arrow clutched between my teeth like a bear with its prey.

She smirked, awe rippling through the mentors behind her. I was no older than nineteen, channeling the Howa'ahian Ice Bear—a spirit reserved for master sorcerers—yet I wielded it with ease. I could feel her gaze narrow on the ley line tendril entwined with my essence. Tapping into Howa'ah's ley lines? I knew it was reckless, but it felt as natural as breathing. Did I carry the berserker gene—a Guardian of Howa'ah?

"My, my... A totem holder. Don't you all feel damned stupid?" Stratus boasted, raking a hand through her hair. "Ignorant dogs... Failed to see the potential..." She glided toward the pillar, her presence commanding. My head snapped toward her, eyes wide and dark, a bear caught in danger's glare, a question flickering within: Do I pass?

Her chuckle rumbled low, her smirk shifting to steely resolve. "Alright, you little maggot, you win! You've got guts, glory, and raw will! You pass!"

#w0e's at it again #w0e's musings #headcanons #creative writing #writing #trigger warnings please read before hand #***((EXTREMELY SENSITIVE CONTENT) AVOID IF CAN NOT HANDLE)***#((CONTAINS GRAPHIC ACTS OF VIOLENCE; EXTREMELY DARK THEMES; GORE; ETC. DO NOT READ IF WISHING TO AVOID THESE THEMES.))#lore dump #Stories of Erydara #((MENTIONS A TRAGIC PAST OF ENSLAVEMENT; CHILDABUSE; MURDER; GRAPHIC DETAIL OF INJURIES; EXTREMELY SAD CONTENT))

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voxofthevoid · 1 year ago

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First of all I love every idea you got cooking in the kitchen. Delicious meal planning. Even had to take out paper and pen to list immediate favorites: 8, 12, 14, 25, 29, 34, 36, 44, 48, 54, 60, and 62.

But I am most interested in 40 cause the potential of you turning Gojo into something utterly horrifying is amazing. Yuuji accepts him immediately? Of course! Cause he's a good boy. Gojo *still* being a terrifying monstrosity and Yuuji showing off just how unhinged he is just by the ease in which he accepts (I imagine) an every shifting, screaming glitch interface as Gojos six eyes seeing through the veil of dimensions that his Limitless is endlessly trying to tear apart.

~Messy

I love that you immediately penned a list 🥺💙

After 236, I got pretty attached to the concept of Cursejou, and honestly, with how freaky Limitless is even as a CT, applying that to a curse body has so much potential. The eyes alone would be freaky, and add in some space distortions, you get one hell of a curse. Yuuji would accept him way too easily for comfort, I believe. He should definitely get eldritch hole.

But 40 and 34 were asked by others (I'm scheduling these, so I can't link them, but click on the "wip open season" tag and you'll find them). Among the posted answers, you can find 8 here, 29 here, 36 here, and 44 here.

Excluding these, I've picked another one from your initial list:

14. seven new ways that you can eat your young

Age reversal AU where Yuuji spent most of his Jujutsu Tech days as the Gojou heir’s bodyguard and bids the kid goodbye when it’s time for his execution. Six years later, 15-year-old Gojou runs into a scarred, dead-eyed version of his supposedly dead childhood crush.

This was my first or second age reversal idea, and it still lives rent free in my head. It'll also be Long. The notes are a bit messy, mostly because it's a non-linear narrative with some extensive backstory revealed in bits and pieces:

16 y/o Satoru hears "Satoru? Is that you, Gojou Satoru?" And when he turns around, he sees a ghost.

Skip to the past segment with the bodyguarding bits

Satoru says Yuuji name before "seeing, really seeing." Snarls who are you, and Yuuji looks startled, starts to say Satoru just said his name, and Satoru evaluates the environment and makes the split-second decision to drag Yuuji to the abandoned building he just exorcised curses from (threatens Yuuji to not try anything or he'd kill him, crowd or no crowd). Satoru can't warp yet, and Yuuji is eerily quiet. Satoru puts up a curtain with more diligence than he's ever bothered with and pounces on Yuuji. Says he's got ten seconds to reveal what he is and why he's wearing that face before Satoru kills him. Satoru will kill him anyway but he'll make it merciful if Yuuji fesses up first.

Yuuji mostly surprised by the brutality. Says he really is Itadori Yuuji. Satoru says Itadori Yuuji was human—a sorcerer, not a curse // I'm not— // Then why are there two hearts beating inside you? Yuuji stunned. Asks if Satoru can see that and then concludes to himself that yes, he'd be the only one who could. Satoru pins him to the ground, hands around his throat, and demands Yuuji answer. Yuuji asks what it feels like, the heart. Like him? (No). Like Sukuna? (Satoru starts to suspect something at the mention of Sukuna but says no). Who then, Yuuji asks urgently. Satoru snaps he doesn't fucking know, it's just CE distinctly different from Y's. Yuuji smiles and admits, yeah, okay it's unfair to expect Satoru to know. Thank goodness though (said with hand over his own chest). Closes his eyes and tells Satoru to go ahead. Satoru doesn't and when Yuuji asks why, he just says only Itadori Yuuji would pull something so phenomenally stupid. Not even fighting. Memory montage of all the impulsive shit Yuuji did when he was with kid!Satoru. He demands to know how Yuuji is alive.

Yuuji says he can't talk here and asks if Satoru can come with him. Satoru does, and Yuuji chides him for the lack of caution, and Satoru goes, I am literally the strongest sorcerer in the world—well, one of them. Nothing's going to hurt me, Yuuji, least of all you. Yuuji looks proud.

The second heart inside Yuuji is Megumi's btw. It's...complicated.

#messy anon #anon #wip open season #goyuu #fic: vows of no faith

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noficbyhalves · 1 year ago

Text

I'm not dead, I was just eaten by the brain weasels. Everything is fine and I really meant for this to be over 5k :/

I would also like the record to state that I did finish this last night, I just chose sleep instead of staying up til 4am formatting it and fighting with tumblr about Malik's fucking name. So my Valentine's Day one shot was toooootally on time shut up don't look at me.

In other news febuwhump is looking more like it'll be whumpril but *gestures at the length of this monstrosity* y'all can deal. (If my life is enough of a disaster maybe my brain autofilling it as whumptober will be accurate! T_T)

Anyway!

Content warning for panic attacks, implications of past abuse, light internalized homophobia, vague allusions to sexual acts, a lot of profanity, and Altaïr being horny on main

Flowers, or A First Valentine's

(or, Altaïr's biggest enemy is actually the closet in this essay I will-):

Altaïr was very careful to avoid looking at Malik when the mail appeared, or he was certain his face would give him away. He knew what was going to appear anyway, had spent a week and a half overthinking it to death. Malik may not have thought much of the holiday, but Altaïr didn't feel right doing nothing at all. He had settled on a dozen red roses - simple, tasteful, impossible to misinterpret - with a note smothered in so many layers of handwriting charms so as to make it functionally anonymous.

Thankfully a convenient distraction materialized in front of him, in the form of the rapidly growing pile of envelopes addressed to him. Altaïr was considerably less thankful the second he looked closer, realizing they were dozens and dozens of Valentine's notes. He recognized some of the handwriting - the purple one was definitely Katerina, and he noticed Rhona's loopy script, which was baffling for numerous reasons - but there were many of them that he didn't in the slightest. He gingerly pulled one open, increasingly alarmed to find a love letter as long as his arm from some lady he had never met.

Malik still hadn't said anything, which would have stressed Altaïr much more if Malik's ankle wasn't pressed against his under the table. He couldn't have still been reading the note, it was barely two sentences, and even that Altaïr had spent days agonizing over, whether it was too much or not enough. If he had tried to write something half as long as the monstrosity in his hand, he'd have given up and flung himself into the lake. He had the words on it burned into his brain:

My Vega, May your day be as bright as your smile Happy Valentine's Day - Your not-so-secret admirer

Curiosity got the better of him. He dared to glance over at Malik, and for a second everything stopped. Because Malik was looking at the note, yes, but he was also trying and failing to hide a bashful smile in his hand. There was a blush blooming on his cheeks, a sparkle in his eyes. And if Altaïr was walking on air then, the moment Malik looked up and locked eyes with him stole the very breath from his lungs. He had to bite down on his tongue until it hurt, so he didn't say something out loud where other people could hear (something like help I'm so fucking in love with you).

The words that came out of Malik's mouth were not thank you or I love you (as Altaïr's daydreams where everyone else in the great hall suddenly disappeared would have gone). Instead they were, "What in the hell?"

At which point Altaïr remembered he was, in fact, holding a letter from a crazy woman, sitting next to a pile of similarly unhinged mail. "I... this lady sent me a Valentine's... essay? I have no idea who she is." He skimmed further through the letter, but each subsequent sentence made him more uncomfortable than the last.

"Well you are a public figure, I guess. Ladies love a war hero...?" Malik trailed off in a shrug.

Altaïr winced. "She's, uh, really into me having been a Templar, actually." That part was deeply weird on multiple levels, not least of which was the interpretation that any of it had been a deliberate ideological choice, as opposed to Altaïr being backed into approximately six different corners.

"What. You're joking," Malik looked as dumbfounded as Altaïr felt. His bafflement turned to outrage when Altaïr didn't break. "Who's screening these things?"

He had an awful suspicion the answer was nobody, or at least not for anything that wasn't a death threat. Not for the first time, Altaïr was very glad they had conspired to keep Malik out of the public eye. It was bad enough with all of this addressed to only one of them. "No, apparently she wants to-" He squinted as he searched for the correct line. "-heal the wounds on my soul with the power of her love?"

The noise that came out of Malik's mouth was somewhere between a gag and a laugh. "Oh my god that's terrible. What else did she write."

"Something about wanting a summer wedding..." Altaïr adjusted the parchment so he could double check the woman's name. "I don't know who this person is, why...?"

Malik had dissolved into laughter, and it took him a few moments to compose himself. "Read the rest of it," he said, wheedling when Altaïr balked at the idea. "C'mon, give her the dramatic reading she deserves."

Altaïr opened his mouth, closed it. Considered the merits of fleeing into the woods never to return. He quite frankly didn't want to read another word of the letter, much less out loud.

Malik seemed to catch that, at least, and had switched tactics to reaching out for the letter, slightly wiggling his fingers in the please give me that thing way (rather than the wands are for amateurs way, which he was also prone to doing). His eyes were wide in an approximation of an innocent look that Altaïr knew was total bullshit, but it wasn't like he could deny Malik anything on a good day.

He sighed, and handed it over. "You do it."

Malik's expression grew gleeful (not benevolent, not by a long shot, but gleeful). He started to read but immediately choked on a laugh, trying and failing to muffle it into his elbow. "She spelled your name wrong," he wheezed.

Altaïr had noticed the writer had used his grandfather's surname instead of the one he had chosen, but hadn't thought it was that funny.

"No, look," Malik said, turning the parchment around and showing him. Sure enough, the top of the letter had Altear scrawled on it. Altaïr let out a huff of laughter.

Malik pulled the letter back and cleared his throat, beginning to read in a deeply overblown falsetto. "My dear Alteeeer Wrong-Last-Name," he said, before switching back to his normal voice, "you're not even good at being deranged and obsessive, honestly..."

Altaïr snorted. "Is that the offensive part to you?"

"It's not wrong to expect a base level of competency. If you can't trust your stalker to get your name right, who can you trust?"

Altaïr decided there was no good response to that, and tore open a different envelope.

The falsetto was back. "I am writing this letter to tell you that I am madly in love with you. I had a vision you see, months ago, foretelling that you and I are destined to be soulmates." Malik rolled his eyes, "see, this is why divination is bullshit."

"That's not how divination works," Altaïr said tiredly, pulling out what appeared to be a normal card, along with a little bag of chocolates. "What are the odds these are laced, d'you think?"

"Too high to risk it. Novice, do not."

"I wasn't going to!" He insisted. Malik gave him a doubtful look. The problem, Altaïr thought, with Malik famously being half of his impulse control, was people refusing to believe that he was capable of the other half.

They steadily worked through the pile like that, Altaïr putting anything edible directly into the baskets that vanished garbage, and Malik providing scathing commentary on the letter all the while. It helped, having Malik there, the grounding contact under the table and the reassurance that "oh, ew!" was a reasonable response to someone telling him she wanted to lick his scars what the fuck.

He had gotten down to the last few envelopes when he dared to look at the one from Rhona again. Altaïr couldn't fathom why she would write to him. He was pretty sure there was no possible combination of words that wouldn't be weird. Would an apology be better or worse than none at all?

Malik had paused, eyeing the note in his hand, but didn't say anything. He just sipped at his coffee and let Altaïr sort it out in his own head.

That, more than anything, made up Altaïr's mind. "Mal?" he said.

"Yeah?" He frowned when Altaïr held the envelope out to him. "Is that what I think it is?"

Altaïr nodded. "Can you burn this for me?"

"I'm not a fucking matchbook," he grumbled under his breath, but flicked his wrist regardless. The paper caught in an instant, flames licking up the edges. It was ash before it hit the table, vaporizing in the scorching heat that merely felt pleasantly warm against Altaïr's fingers.

***

By the time they had gotten midway through the day, Altaïr was already cracking at the seams. He couldn't make a beeline directly for the secret passageway down to the second floor, no matter how much he wanted to. Malik had been giving little pleased smiles (pointedly at the flowers, not at him) all through class and making his heart flutter every time. If he couldn't get a second alone to kiss his fucking boyfriend, Altaïr was going to go insane.

Malik caught on anyway, steering away from the main stairs without Altaïr having to say a word. He was talking about the Runes essay he had due later that week in a way that was clearly intended to be space filler, so Altaïr let the words fade into comforting white noise. He made affirmative noises at the right times, used to the steady rise and fall of Malik's tone as he more-or-less monologued.

By the time they reached the tapestry hiding the entrance, the hallway had emptied around them. Altaïr dared to reach out and grab Malik's hand. The bright smile Malik turned on him when he threaded their fingers together made his heart skip in his chest. He sped up, towing Malik along behind him, shoving the tapestry aside with more force than necessary.

"Slow down!" Malik laughed.

The lack of light in the passage left him briefly blinded, operating mostly on muscle memory to pull Malik forward without running into a wall. If they had twenty feet or so of distance, they'd be hidden enough and Altaïr could finally kiss him.

When his vision adjusted, he froze. Just ahead of them in the corridor (twenty feet from the entrance that's enough space not to get caught) were two other students - a boy and a girl, a couple years younger than them - locked at the lips. He dropped Malik's hand like it had burned him, and he must have made some sort of noise because they suddenly sprang apart, staring at him.

Oh fuck they had seen them. Anyone could have seen. Other people used this passage. Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck.

"So much for that shortcut," he distantly heard Malik huff, through the ringing in his ears. There was a hand tugging at his elbow, pulling him back out into the sunlight. "C'mon Altaïr, don't be a creep."

Anyone could have seen them. Altaïr would've been too wrapped up in Malik to notice. How many times had he closed his eyes in hidden corridors, trusting that they were alone?

His head was full of static. Everything was too loud but indistinct and blurry. Malik was talking but he couldn't make out the words. He dug his fingers into the fabric of his robes. It didn't help. The only solid thing in the world was Malik's steadfast grip on his arm, tugging him forward.

They could've seen anything. Altaïr kissing Malik, fuck, Altaïr on his knees. Everyone would know, his grandfather would find out. A blasting hex would be the least of his worries, with a stain on the family name like that-

"Oi, habibi!"

Altaïr startled. They had stopped walking, and Malik was snapping his fingers in front of Altaïr's face, looking at him with poorly disguised concern. The floor was swaying beneath him, shit they were on one of the moving staircases how the hell had they gotten there. He surreptitiously glanced around them, at all the other people on the landings and other flights of stairs. "Don't say that here!" he hissed.

"Unless half the school became fluent in Arabic overnight, I think we're fine," Malik said dryly.

Altaïr blinked. On second thought, fair. The tone of voice Malik had used was more in tune with calling him shithead than darling (though with Malik the line between insult and term of endearment had always been very thin).

"Are you okay?" Malik asked, stepping back to a more respectable distance.

Altaïr clutched onto the banister as the stairs began to pivot. He didn't want to lie to Malik, but the weight of the proverbial gaze of the entire school kept him from admitting just how shaken he felt. He settled for a wobbly so-so gesture and whatever the hell his face was doing.

"I can spin Berg some excuse if you need to go back to the dorm."

The offer was tempting, but he knew Malik couldn't join him if Altaïr didn't want anyone to suspect anything, especially not today of all days. Sitting alone with his thoughts for a few hours would probably be a bad idea right now, at least going to Alchemy would give him something to do with his hands. "No," he cleared his throat. "No, I'm good."

Malik's flat look clearly expressed his doubt on that front. "Am I going to regret handing you a knife?"

"I'm fine, Malik. I'm not going to cut off a finger."

Malik's face contorted as he tried to fight a smile. "You're not funny, novice."

***

Alchemy helped, for the most part. With a little breathing space, his panic felt slightly ridiculous (his grandfather had been dead for months, he wasn't sure why his brain had jumped to that). No one had stumbled across the two of them, or there would have been rumours or gossip or worse. Instead, Katerina was trying to bat her eyelashes at him from across the room, looking rather like she had been hit with a twitching jinx, while he was struggling not to stare too blatantly at Malik.

The heat and humidity in the Alchemy classroom worked unfairly well for him. With his sleeve pushed up and his hair mussed and his dark eyes focused intently on wandlessly adjusting the flame beneath their cauldron, he looked a bit like if a fire elemental had a ridiculously gorgeous human form. Altaïr, in comparison, felt a bit like a drowned rat. (A drowned rat that really should be paying more attention to the herbs he was mincing; if he actually injured himself, Malik would be pissed and worried and also would never ever let him live it down.)

Malik straightened, content with the temperature, and reached past Altaïr to write something down. Malik had been the dedicated notetaker in Alchemy for basically forever - for a myriad of reasons, including but not limited to the weird language of symbols he used to delineate changes in fire spells that only made sense to him, his handwriting was generally neater, and the fact that Altaïr never remembered to bring pencils instead of quills on Alchemy days. The problem was that he was so close Altaïr could feel the heat of him, and on any other day that would only be mildly distracting. On any other day Altaïr wouldn't feel quite as flayed open, equal parts desperate for contact and terrified of being too close. It just wasn't fair.

"Those, then the moth wings, then the gold dust. Ninety seconds between each of them," Malik muttered, reading out of the textbook. It snapped Altaïr back to the task at hand.

He frowned. "Shouldn't that be gold dust first? For stabilization?"

"Quote-" Malik flipped a few pages. "Nicholas Flamel, goddammit, gold dust is last."

Altaïr knew the rant that was brewing there quite well - he internally called it the "you idiots have trains (why is progress scary to you)" rant, after a particularly inspired rendition several years ago. Malik probably had three or four multi-hour lectures worth of content for it in his back pocket at all times. As entertaining as it usually was, Altaïr was still puzzling out the gold dust thing. "No, shush," he said, running back through the contents of their cauldron in his head.

The look Malik leveled him with would have caught a lesser man's hair on fire. Altaïr was more than willing to blame the heat in his cheeks on that. (It was, on occasion, reassuring that his taste in women was not so diametrically different from his attraction to Malik. This was not one of those times.)

"It shouldn't mess up the xanthosization, if anything it'll give us a wider window. Three minutes, maybe four?" Now that Altaïr thought about it, they could probably rework the whole recipe, cut the brewing time, maybe improve the potency?

"Makes sense," Malik said, jolting him out of his scheming. He dropped the bag of gold dust next to Altaïr's hand, where he hadn't realized he started drumming his fingers against the table.

Altaïr glanced up at Berg, who was standing across the room, scowling at another student's cauldron, and not paying them any attention whatsoever. Perfect.

"Don't fuck up," Malik said in an undertone, as he scattered the gold dust into the steaming liquid. The slight curl of his smile belied the severity of his words.

"Gee, thanks." Altaïr thought he did remarkably well at keeping his voice even, though Malik would probably be the only one who would notice. It took all of his concentration not to fumble into an overpour, with the way his heart was hammering. Malik was moving over to his right, grabbing the herbs, leaning into Altaïr's shoulder as he did. He was so close, Altaïr could slide an arm around his waist and hold him. Maybe if he was quick, no one would notice him kissing Malik's cheek. Maybe they could-

Maybe he needed to add the moth wings.

Malik plucked the stirring stick out of his hand when he did, taking over now that he was empty-handed. Altaïr could see his pinky twitch as the fire beneath the cauldron grew steadily, until the elixir was hot enough to bubble merrily.

They had half an hour or so until the filtration step, which left them sprawled in the chairs around their clean workstation. Malik had pulled out the project notebook and, based on the runes scrawled all over the pages, was trying to sort out the last set of enchantments for the map. Altaïr was tilted back in his chair, twisting his sash over his fingers since Rosa had glared at him when he was audibly tapping a few minutes ago. (And wasn't that interesting, how when it was Rosa it was just kind of uncomfortable, but when it was Malik it made him want to- nope.)

He had counted the number of cracks in this part of the ceiling months ago, and though he had a History essay he could be editing he deeply did not want to. He couldn't really help Malik - while Altaïr could probably pass a Runes exam based solely on several years of listening to Malik chattering about it, that didn't mean he could make heads or tails of whatever hellish combination of that and numerology that Malik had been beating his head against for months. Something about a youclid and a quantum whatsit? It made his head hurt, was the point. And trying also ran the risk of someone noticing the amount of enamored staring he would inevitably devolve into once he stopped being able to say anything meaningful.

Their elixir had been getting bluer by the minute but wasn't done yet. Which left looking blankly around the room, avoiding making eye contact with Berg lest he decide Altaïr looked too bored and made him grade essays or something. No one was doing much of anything interesting, only one other pair hadn't gotten to the simmering stage yet, but they weren't messing up in any interesting ways. Katerina had been distracted by her brewing partner, at least, so she wasn't trying to convince him to... canoodle with her or something. Whatever that couple in the corner was doing whenever Berg wasn't looking directly at them - Altaïr was not going to examine them closely enough to check. Though, speaking of-

"Hey, Malik?"

Malik glanced up at him, twirling his pencil around in his hand.

"Why didn't you tell off those kids, in the corridor?"

It took a couple blinks for Malik to catch where his train of thought had wandered. "It would be a pretty futile endeavor? I mean it is Valentines," he said, as if Altaïr were particularly oblivious. As if he hadn't been the reason for the flowers tucked into Malik's bag, as if seeing every couple in the castle didn't feel like they were flaunting it in Altaïr's face, as if it didn't make him want to scream. "They'd just go make out somewhere else." He shrugged.

Wasn't that the point? Altaïr thought but could not say. It wasn't like kicking them out would have stopped him from spiraling, but at least away from prying eyes Malik could have held him. "It's definitely not allowed, though," he said petulantly.

"They weren't doing any harm," Malik's tone softened. He flicked his gaze deliberately over to his schoolbag, with the roses peeking out from where they sat just inside the flap.

And Altaïr knew that logically. They hadn't set out to hurt him, to mess with his brain. They were not unlike the two of them, looking for a safe place away from prying eyes, and clever enough to know at least a couple secret passages. If Altaïr hadn't been so in his own head they probably could have just passed each other in the dark, not a notable encounter in the slightest.

"Besides," the corners of Malik's mouth tipped up ever so slightly, "I'd be a massive hypocrite if I did."

Altaïr was very glad for the roaring flames masking the flush in his cheeks.

***

The rest of the day dragged on. When they finally made it back to the dormitory that evening, Altaïr could barely wait for the door to be shut before he was pushing Malik up against it to kiss him. Malik breathed a laugh into his mouth and tugged him closer, draping his arm around Altaïr's shoulders. He tasted like sunshine, like warmth and fire and home.

Altaïr only broke the kiss when air became an issue, leaning back just far enough to notice Malik's breathless grin. He was sure it was mirrored on his own face.

"Holding that in all day, were you?"

"Yeah," he croaked. His cheeks heated with the heady mix of embarrassment and arousal he found all-too-common around Malik.

And he knew it was his own fault, that there was a very simple solution to this problem. If the idea didn't scare him so badly, they could have spent the whole day hand in hand, sneaking kisses in alcoves without caring if others knew.

Malik didn't bring it up at least, despite the easy opening to mock him. He just kissed Altaïr again, slow and deep, stealing the breath from his lungs. One of his hands slid down Malik's torso to clutch at his hip, his fingers fitting into place like they belonged there. Like his hands were crafted to fit Malik, and vice versa.

The idea of soulmates had seemed silly from the mouth (quill?) of a stranger that morning. It seemed a little bit less so now. Soul magic didn't work like that (he knew in excruciating detail how little it worked like that), but Altaïr knew without a shadow of a doubt that Malik would be the other half of him if it did. He felt more calm than he had all day, having wasted the morning tying himself up in knots over the flowers.

Speaking of... "They were okay? They weren't..." too much not enough somehow both. He asked, when they separated again.

It took Malik a few seconds to catch up. "Oh, the flowers." He smiled. "They were very sweet. Thoroughly unnecessary, but sweet."

Altaïr blinked. "Unnecessary?"

Malik let go of his shoulder to cradle his face. "You don't need to give me flowers to keep me, habibi. I'm already here." He kissed Altaïr's nose.

"That's not, I don't..." he trailed off, struggling to phrase the feeling that had been clanging around his head the whole week. Malik waited for him, held him tight and didn't bat an eye when the implication of his gaze became too much and Altaïr had to bury his face in Malik's shoulder. "...I just, I want to do more than just necessary. I want to do this right, I guess?"

"So which phase of doing it right is breaking blood curses, exactly? In case it comes up," Malik said. Altaïr couldn't see his face from this angle, but he could perfectly picture his shit-eating grin.

He jabbed Malik in the side, making him twitch and curse at him. "You know what I mean," Altaïr grumbled.

"I can't say I do, actually."

"Maliiiiiik," he whined.

"Should I expect a candlelight dinner and rose petals next year?"

Altaïr snickered, but he couldn't help but get stuck on that thought. It felt a little crazy, talking about next year as something attainable. Making plans with the expectation that the world wouldn't burn down in the interim, and there being an actual chance of being right. "...Yeah," he mumbled into Malik's jaw, "next year."

"Novice, that was a joke, don't-"

"Too late"

"Altaïr-"

"'M gonna romance the shit out of you." It was starting to take form in his head, an image of when they'd have their own space and he wouldn't have to smother his feelings outside these four walls.

Malik let out a massive sigh and let his head thunk back against the door. "Why do I have a feeling I'll regret this."

Altaïr pulled back so he could kiss him again. "Because you're being melodramatic?" he teased.

"Rude. Also, hypocrite."

"I have never once acted like flower petals were the end of the world."

"They're not the end of the world, I'll just genuinely be annoyed with you if you fling them around."

Altaïr squinted at him, attempting to make sense of that logic. Malik was deeply opinionated, sure, but there was usually at least some amount of internal consistency in those opinions. For the life of him, Altaïr could not parse how rose petals were that meaningfully different from roses themselves.

Maybe it was another don't treat me like a girl thing? But that missed the point, that when Altaïr imagined a nebulous future, a place that he shared with someone, where the idea of scattering rose petals on their bed felt indulgent instead of fake and performative, there had only ever been Malik in that image. (Truthfully, even just the idea of sharing a bed with someone long-term had been only Malik in his head for an embarrassingly long time.) "...what?"

"It's messy, and wasteful, for something that looks nice for what? Thirty seconds?"

"I... magic? You're a fucking wizard, Malik, come on." Malik's insistence on ignoring magic as a solution still blindsided him sometimes.

"That's still wasteful!"

"How?!" Altaïr fished his wand out of this sleeve to better make his point... somehow, and realized halfway through that nothing was stopping him from demonstrating right that moment. Unfortunately, Malik could read him like a book and immediately made a grab for it.

Any advantage Altaïr may have had by being right-handed (and therefore giving Malik fuckall for leverage), was swiftly countered by the fact that Malik had never once fought fair in his goddamn life. Malik dragged him into a truly filthy kiss, which made it difficult to focus on much of anything except Malik's tongue in his mouth, Malik's body pressed against his. Malik's fingers sunk into his hair, lightly tugging with just the right amount of pressure to make Altaïr's brain go fuzzy. A moan bubbled out of his throat, entirely against his will, as he melted into it.

Altaïr's hands fumbled of their own accord, clinging to Malik's shoulders, dragging him closer by the small of his back. He wasn't sure how exactly he could get closer, only that he needed to. That every inch of distance was unbearable, with how his blood was singing in his veins.

Malik shifted slightly, and Altaïr dimly realized he had been played when his wand was knocked out of his grip. Faced with the decision of letting it drop or letting go of Malik, he opted to pin his boyfriend harder against the door. Finding his wand - wherever it rolled after he heard it hit the floor - in the morning would be annoying, but if Malik stopped touching him Altaïr might actually die.

Altaïr pulled his lips back just a hairsbreadth, Malik nipping at him as he went. "You're an asshole," he panted.

He couldn't physically see Malik's eyeroll, but it was thoroughly implied. "Pot, cauldron." Altaïr was a bit appeased that Malik sounded just as out of breath as he did.

He kissed Malik again, just because. One kiss turned into two, turned into more, turned into Altaïr pressing his hips flush with Malik's, devouring the quiet groan that came out of his mouth. Kissing Malik was unfairly distracting. "Just because you're hot doesn't mean I'm wrong."

"If I concede to the dinner date will you shut up about the fucking petals? Oh my god." Malik growled at him.

Altaïr was tempted to ask Malik to convince him, but knew that was the kind of incentive that would make Malik turn him into a little puddle of goo on the floor. While that was a very appealing prospect, he did have a point to make. "Depends, will you let me be romantic or will you bitch about it the whole time?"

"I can multitask."

"Malik."

"Yes, fine," Malik huffed. "I will let you be as sappy as you like on this hypothetical dinner date that would require being out in public."

Altaïr watched Malik wince as his conscience caught up with his mouth. It happened more often than people thought; Altaïr did wonder sometimes whether Malik's instinct to poke and prod and needle was actually stronger than his instinct to breathe. The criticism wasn't completely out of line, though. If Altaïr had been frustrated with how the day went, it must have been eight times worse for Malik. He shrugged. "That's why it's next year," he said quietly.

"Shit, I didn't mean it like that, I'm sorry,"

Altaïr scattered kisses on his cheeks. "Don't worry about it."

"You really don't need-"

Altaïr cradled his face in both palms, looking him dead in the eyes. "Malik, I want to," he said. "I just... I can't. Right now."

Malik's gaze was so fond it made his teeth ache. "I don't want to rush you, is all."

Altaïr had no way to put it into words, that the tightrope he was fumbling across was in no way Malik's fault. That it was his own fear and chagrin that had him stuck like this, and he was so sick of being stuck. He desperately wanted to wake up one morning, forward in time to where it was all out in the open and whatever chaos that caused had blown over. "You're not," he said, glancing away, but it seemed deeply inadequate. "Besides, where would we even go right now?"

"If you take me to that awful cafe that is allegedly the height of romance, I will break up with you on the spot."

Altaïr laughed. "No, no way. I can still smell the incense in my nightmares."

"Eugh, I had forgotten about that part. Why is everything magicside like this."

"Yeah... it might have to be somewhere over the line," he admitted. Malik had been thoroughly right about it being less terrifying over there, where no one knew his name or his family or what he had done. Where he could just be Malik's boyfriend Altaïr, one person in a sea of strangers. "But I'll get there, by next year. Promise."

Malik smiled at him so softly, brushed his fingers over Altaïr's cheek. If he kept looking at Altaïr like that he was going to break in half. He looked like he was about to say something, was deliberately choosing how to say it best, which with Malik usually only took milliseconds.

Altaïr had a pretty strong suspicion of what it could be, and headed it off at the pass the second Malik opened his mouth. "If you say 'I don't have to' one more time I swear to Merlin I'll-"

Malik's snort of laughter cut him off. "I was going to say I love you, birdbrain."

"Oh." Altaïr could feel the heat flood his cheeks.

"Yeah, oh." Malik pressed a kiss to his jaw, then another. "You going to finish that threat?"

Altaïr, who hadn't really planned the end of that sentence even as it was coming out of his own mouth, shrugged.

"I mean... you don't have to finish it..." Malik said.

At which point Altaïr had no choice but bodily picking him up - ignoring Malik's startled squawk and flailing of limbs - and crossing the room to toss him onto the bed.

"I feel very discouraged, bravo." Malik's tone was undercut by his barely suppressed giddy laughter. "Get over here."

And when he tugged Altaïr down on the bed with him, Altaïr couldn't say he minded in the slightest.

#altmal #skies au #they are so fucking gay jesus christ #for context they've been together for like 4-5 months #and have been *deeply* codependent for 4+ years #altair: yes the only person I could see myself living with long term is my bestie this is very normal and heterosexual of me #malik; head in hands: I am going to scream #altaïr ibn la’ahad #altaïr ibn la'ahad #altair ibn la'ahad #malik al sayf #autistic altair ibn la'ahad #you can pry autistic altair from my cold dead hands #assassins creed #assassin's creed #words that mean things #i should put this on ao3 shouldn't i

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