#which he has many many MANY of despite and in spite of every shitty thing life has thrown his way

[bloodredx]

Day 20: Death

Will there be a day where this form does not have to think about the End? Too alike in all things, too different in constitution. So many decisions made for this poor Child. How pitiful the fates, but all the while intriguing still. To maintain such grace and work ethic in spite of sheer negligence. To hold duty too such higher orders. This form made him too well.

To think he toils alone, filling shoes not designed for him. Acting in stead of his sister. Trying to be that which is antithetical to his exact disposition. It digs deep. Deeper still than any of the other Children would give credit. Even his siblings give wide berth. Though hatred holds no purchase for the End. It cannot. The rest of the Children passed their curses onto the Precious Living, punishment, but nothing has been handed from the one most hurt by their actions. The End has only reached out with any attempts at kindness he can offer. To be rebuked every time. But persisting still.

What begins must end. It is how the cycle must go. This form realized that far too late. Had the order been reversed…. the status quo might have been much different. Perhaps this form was too ambitious in mixing what should have remained apart. But what is done cannot be undone. And persistence in the face of the impossible is the most valiant effort in existence. To think of the weight of the Souls left bonded to the spontaneous, to leave them to devices. Corruption, rampant. It had to be done. This form will not apologize. But not at these hands, no. Passing the blame, name, all the same onto a Child. Make no mistake, this form never forgets. It never forgets that the End’s domain includes death, yes. But also sunsets, moving forward, the intangible growth of the Soul. Death is needed for renewal. Beginnings cannot start without the old ending. Perhaps the miserable truth is that the End is most like the Precious Living themselves. So sad they cannot see the one offering a hand to hold as they walk back into eternity.

--

Poppies danced in the wind, flickering through the fields in their own, tired way. Bones did his best to pay them no mind, instead slipping under the moonless night and deeper into the valley with his feet barely above the ground. He had no need to alert anything that might take interest in him, instead maintaining the painful silence. Not even bugs or birds called, despite the flourishing amount of flowers. Perhaps they didn’t want to alert the watchful eye of death, or perhaps he had already taken them all. Bones didn’t know. But the simple truth remained: he needed to get to the shitty god’s dumbass temple. He’d been avoiding it as long as he could, but he could no more. The pain was too great. If this was a test.

At some point, his feet touched the ground, rustling softly in the grass. His magic could do no more here, for this was the land of a god. His god. The bastard that kept him trapped here. As many swears and curses he could imagine ran through his mind, things his mama would be horrified to hear. But he knew the God of the End could hear them. He knew he could feel them. Whatever pain that forced nauseous shivers in his skin would be sent upward. It was the least he could do for payment. For eternity.

Large boulders and crystals of hematite and obsidian were Bones’s only support as he crept along, using the warm stones as crutches to push himself forward, down and deeper into the darkness of the long abandoned shrine. Its cavernous mouth seemed to swallow him whole as he disappeared through the darkness, having to feel his way through blindly. The antechamber was coated in dust, sending even more jitters of rage and aggravation down his spine. Motes floated aimlessly, swirling in the heat of a single candle that lay on the central altar, lit but not melting. Its meager light cast odd shadows along the carvings on the walls, words and pictures that might have meant something in a different time. Bones finally collapsed, arms just barely doing enough to prevent him from falling to the floor by just gripping on the edge of the altar. “A’ight, Feathers.” He called out between coughs. “I’m here.. the fuck… do ya want?”

Some blood sputtered out of his mouth, dripping down the black stone. He closed his eyes tightly, desperately begging to be anywhere else. To be dead. He should be dead. He should’ve been dead when he killed himself. He knew he did the job right. He knew. The air changed behind him, light sparks of static sparked in the wool of his sweater with each haggard breath. A weighty presence manifested behind him.

“Need thou ask?” Adamsa Frisay’s emotionless voice lingered a bit too long in Bones’s ear. “Hardly the lips to speak. Still shouting.”

A few footsteps moved around him, the stones echoing around. Bones couldn’t tell if it was in amusement or disappointment. “Just… do what… ya wanted.”

The god lowered themselves before Bones, just on the other side of the altar, taking his chin into his hands. The sparks of warmth shot through Bones, forcing his eyes to open just enough to peek. The emerald eye of the god lurked behind their black and shadowy hair, barely visible in the candle light. Perhaps his own pain was being reflected back at him. “If only this form could.” Their lips parted barely, but despite the distance, the whisper of the god’s voice was right in his ear. “Mirtuvi, why does resistance constantly well in the remains of that body?”

Mirtuvi. That word he kept using for him. Bones hated it. He didn’t know what it meant, but it was always around him now. Buzzing in his head like bees that would never leave. “Maybe… one day… ya’ll get sick of me.”

“Unlikely.” The answer came too quickly. “Too much to do. Much left to repair.”

“Did ya ever… ask what I wanted?”

The god paused at that, standing slowly and passing his hand along the mage’s cheek, through his hair, finally releasing contact with a jerk. “Many, many times.” Adamsa Frisay folded his hands together, effortlessly lifting Bones into the air with a gentleness he didn’t anticipate. He couldn’t resist anymore, falling limply into the forces beyond comprehension. “This form wanted nothing less than to give the world. Perhaps one day, thine eyes might glimpse the truth. But for now…”

The world in front of Bones’s eyes faded out to black, and sleep took him by storm. A gift from the god. Stepping forward, Adamsa Frisay placed a hand over the mage’s chest, sinking fingers into flesh and pulling out the fractured remains of his most botched job. The poor bits of a soul. Pitiful. The small, purple fragments swirled above his hand, trying its best to resonate, to Sing, get back together. The pitch all wrong. It was no easier to gaze upon now than the first time he saw it. He still wondered exactly how this mortal managed to do this. He knew the actions, the environment, the mood. All the data there and collected, replayed, reanalyzed. But no sense was made. No, this was a fallacy. A human fluke. Willpower. He had seen it before. The weapon locked away so many eons ago was proof enough. But why so destructive? And why to the self?

“Mirtuvi, please accept apologies. If it was possible…” Adamsa moved the pieces, attempting once more to fix the puzzle. “Thine death would have been swift, painless. Suffering so… It is shameful. Unbecoming.”

His free hand raised up, reaching into himself, pulling out some dark swirling mass. A passive glance fell over his eye. “If it takes. So receive.”

He carefully guided the darkness over the faint, purple glow of the soul. Blackness congealing slightly, retaining a proper form. It would not last. But it was enough. The End guided the soul back into the body, setting it inside with a spark of electricity that ran across Bones’s body, jumping from wound to wound, healing all to perfection. Save for the wound at his throat. Even the god’s might couldn’t touch that one. “Willpower…” They muttered in their flat tone, finger dragging through the blood splattered across his altar. “Even so, sacrifices offered. So gifts are granted. Something about thine power, Mirtuvi, which this form cannot ignore.” He spoke despite knowing all too well that Bones would not hear or know of the conversation, but carried on regardless. “Thou art in possession of a glimpse against the shards of comprehension. From what? It defies logic. All understanding. Divinity has not offered any words, if one could even find them.”

They paced around their shrine, considering more than the world could reveal alone, slipping both in and out of reality, shadow, stone, and electricity as flocks of ravens gathered around the beams of the ceiling. The birds looked at each other, watching and waiting for their master’s command, should one need to be given. All at once, the god stopped, electricity discharging throughout the room, running up and out the front of the shrine. “Unless.” He closed his eye and shook his head. “Impossible. Truly.

Hands again grasped firmly under Bones body, carrying him as one might a child. “If nothing else, rest is deserved in peace. Thou shall be returned. But please…” a desperate plea, finally allowing emotion to leech into his voice. “stop doing this to thine self. Thou art worthy of kindness… despite what beliefs are held.”

It was futile, he wouldn’t hear. In a single step, both vanished into shadows at once, leaving the ravens to flee to the sky. Feathers floating through the air like scattered poppy petals in the wind.

(OC-tober challenge by @oc-tober2022 can be found here.)

[puppiekit]

You know what seeing my tumblr homies talk about their ocs has really motivated me to do the same. So im going to ramble about the cast of my comic LOL

Firstly, on to the worldbuilding...

The world of my comic takes place in the far future, long after global warming has taken its course and messed up a good chunk of modern society. All of the rich have long fled to Mars, out of attempt to escape the consequences of destroying their home planet.

A few centuries later, however, they realize their attempts at survival are futile and attempt to return back, much to the anger of those who were left behind, and managed to rebuild all on their own. To say the least, their conflict quickly became violent.

To reflect the hard societal reset that happened on Earth, a lot of the setting and technology present is 70s / 80s / 90s inspired, with a fancier polish to reflect their place hundreds of years in the future, of course.

Inspiration...

Now, the world of my comic is inspired by many things!!! To help you gather an idea of what I have in mind, i'll list them here:

Now on to my silly skrunkly characters!!!

This is Laika, weird cat-dog thing, local societal menace, and genuine war criminal. Hes in his 30s, a short king (only around 5'3), and has all the pent up rage and anger to show for it.

In spite of his sad emo childhood backstory, I have crafted him specifically to be the most insufferable (in the most lovable way) character to ever exist on planet earth. Hes cruel, selfish, aggressive, short-tempered, and prone to violence (derives pleasure from the harm and vulnerability of others, really). He has 0 self awareness and loves to play the victim in every given scenario.

To put it in simple terms, he never mentally developed beyond his traumatized childhood self. Hes under a constant state of survival and self-preservation.

Now in his adult years, he works for the government to develop nuclear weapons. Despite his shitty attitude, he is incredibly smart, especially in regards to science / physics. Still, however, I think it is a rather dumb move on the governments part to hand a ticking time-bomb like him literal nukes. Might just be me, though!

These are Laikas coworkers. They do not have any individual references just yet, so sadly I must rant about them together based off of this puny sketch!

Goose:

Albino raccoon , he/they , Lead Engineer for the Government war effort. Also... Laikas ex! Awkward! This fool is 6ft+ and a walking brick wall of flesh and muscle, but lacks the self awareness necessary to come off as anything beyond mildly intimidating. He comes from a long line of Aviators, Engineers, and Pilots, birthing his life-long fixation on the subject.

Goose is air-headed, and endearing to those who only know him by passing. But in reality hes equally as insufferable as Laika. He's selfish, egotistical, and has a multitude of narcissistic tenancies. He will find any reason at all to passively-aggressively drag others down in meaningless, petty ways, just to make him feel better about himself. His tendency to place himself on a pedestal is almost entirely fueled by insecurities he refuses to acknowledge, which directly bounces off of Laikas hate-fueled enjoyment of picking at others.

He and Laika were childhood best-friends, High-School sweethearts, and lifelong partners... Before they both reunited after Laikas time on the battlefield, however, and realized they had both grown into something they can no longer tolerate. And yet their burning hatred has circled back around into some weird, toxic form of passionate love... Still hooking up and all over eachother, same as before!

Paradox:

Weird coyote thing, they/them, late 30s / early 40s ... Develops chemical weapons for the Government. VERY passionate about their work. Super into conspiracies. This scrawny canine is simply unhinged, to be totally honest. They couldn't be bothered to open up about their family or past, leaving their peers to wonder how exactly they became the way they did.

All that is known is that Paradox's chemical burns... Are most certainly caused from some past self experimentation. (They 100% DIY'd their own top surgery btw. They are indeed that genre of Transgender Scientist). Like the rest of the cast, Paradox is an ass, in one way or another. They lack total care of empathy for others. They have, and will, throw a baby in an incinerator for science.

Paradox lives in the basement of their workplace, pretty much, spending the good majority of their days working away at new weapons, committing unethical science experiments on Prisoners of War, or trying to frantically piece together proof that the moon landing was fake. (yes, even despite the fact that their entire War effort... IS IN SPACE). They are simultaneously stupid and genius, which is why I adore them.

Juno:

Borzoi / Afghan-Hound , she/her , 50s. A lot of people who see this woman call her... a MILF. And perhaps she is. But she is a very EVIL one. Your time with her will not be enjoyable brother. Besides, shes married, unfortunately for her husband. Juno develops Biological weapons for the Government. She was once a Biology teacher for a local Middle School, but lost her job after fighting a student.

Juno is ... A Karen. Mean, selfish, overtly-controlling, and will never pass up an opportunity to complain or jab at those she views beneath her (which is everybody ever, to be honest). If you ever see somebody yelling at a minimum wage worker for something stupid, that is her. If you've ever had to deal with a nosy, bitchy coworker, that is her.

Juno is very spiritual (the embodiment of those christian girls on Instagram who spew out bigotry with sweet bible quotes in her bio), she very much believes in the whole 'this crystal will ward off evil energy' thing. Shes also a vegan, and views feral animals as above society as a whole. She views her fellow man as pests, leeches on the Earth, who are cruel to the innocent animals that inhabit it.

She derives pleasure from using her live for biology as a means for harming/killing her fellow man, and usually in the most unethical ways possible. She has planted Termites in the homes of many of her enemies.

To make a long story short... This entire comic is about assholes living the most painful inconvenienced lives ever possible. It is hilarious. You should ask me about them btw pspspsps come here pspsps

[meyhew]

.

[captnjacksparrow]

if you had to rank your fav naruto characters how would it go? love your blog btw!!

Hmmm... Complicated ask, anon.😂

[My personal life would be splashed here and there. Please bear with me]

Before 5 months, if you asked me about Naruto, my response would be ‘What the fuck is that?’. I absolutely had no idea such a treasure existed. For me, it started out like a blockbuster movie for the sheer variety of fights and the resulting emotions it brought within me. 

However, there was a point I stopped and thought, ‘Wait a fucking second. This resembles my family dynamics. This person is speaking the exact same lines I spoke to my parents few years ago. This person’s situation resembles mine. Did this creator a time traveler?’. Naruto is the only piece of media that gave me such feel. Am not even exaggerating, believe me. 

I really liked so many characters very much but am going to try my best to list just 10. 

The only characters I hate in this series are Danzo, Sakura and Hinata in no particular order. Meaning, I absolutely cannot see any positives in them. They are crassy, cringey and completely detestable.

FAVOURITE NARUTO CHARACTERS

10. Killer Bee

HaHaHa :-) Just seeing this character makes me smile and light-hearted.

It’s a pity that he is the only character who don’t belong to Konoha in my Top 10 rankings who was developed well apart from Gaara.

I loved him from Frame 1 onwards and I sincerely wished Team Taka should be packed up with their ass beaten up mercilessly. And that’s what happened.

Despite being a Jinchurikki, he never bothered to mind his surroundings and filled his heart with love from his over protective Brother alone was nice to watch.

He makes a great Tag Partner with Naruto next to Sasuke. No doubt.

The way Killer Bee treated Team Taka like some annoying flies and his cool and don’t care attitude was top notch. It’s not just with Sasuke, Bee treated Naruto with the same IDGAF attitude at first.

Best Moments:

Lariat punch to Sasuke (TBH, Sasuke deserved it. LOL)

Blasted off every member of Team Taka like a doll

His entire conversation and fight sequence with Kisame (Their banters and exchanges are way too hilarious)

His dynamics with his Elder Brother (God!!!! Whenever Raikage gives him an Iron Claw.... What a hilarious duo!!!!)

9. Hatake Kakashi

Kakashi was my most favourite character when I started the series for simply being ultra-cool with the way he conducted the Bell-Test and taught a valuable lesson for those bratty kids in Team 7 called ‘Team Work’. 

Best Moments:

Kakashi vs Obito Hand-to-Hand Combat (the best in the series)

Kakashi in the Gaara retrieval arc (His fight with Itachi & Deidara gave a good start to the shippuden series. His Mangekyou reveal was surprising).

Kakashi & Guy teaming up with Naruto to reveal Obito in a twisty and tragic way. (Kakashi couldn’t handle the truth at all and neither did I)

Kakashi vs Zabuza (That’s when I realized that the series was getting real serious)

8. Jiraiya

Jiraiya was my next favourite to Kakashi during my Part 1 days. His open perversion and his entire dynamics with Naruto was one of the best things during the Chunin Exams arc. Taught Naruto about Chakra Control and about the way of a shinobi by just enduring. Naruto follows this even today.

Best Moments: 

Kuchiyose No Jutsu training (Man, I never expected him to push Naruto off the cliff)

Rasengan Training (One of the best arcs in part 1 and it was soo satisfying to see Naruto punching his first Rasengan on Kabuto, He also acted like a quasi parent to Naruto... heartwarming)

Jiraiya Vs Six paths of Pain ( 6 vs 1 was always doomed but still he had the guts of a shinobi and plunged ahead)

7. Uchiha Madara

Geez. What is there to not like him?? 

Everything he did was absolutely wrong ever since he broke up with Hashirama in a romantic way much similar to how couples break up in my country.

I am an Uchiha. You are a Senju. I wish it had been different.

This roughly translates to how 75% of lovers break up and marry someone else from their own clan in my state. (Duh!!!)

I am from XXX clan, you are from XXX clan. So we can’t love each other and my parents won’t accept this relationship. So let’s break up.

Alright, my first shipping couple in this series is HashiMada for this exact reason. (I started shipping SNS only after episode 478). 

Just like Hashirama, Madara had an extensive build up right from episode 1 where Kurama compares Sasuke with Madara. And flashbacks from Itachi and Tobi spiked my curiosity and I wanted to see his face so badly ever since.

But the moment he landed gracefully like a diva in episode 321.... Woaahhhh!!!! He literally danced in the battlefield and ate up 100′s of guys with just a fucking Sharingan. 

Best Moments:

Going Shirtless before 1000′s of people with Hashirama’s face, no less (Well, I literally went heart-eyed for 5 minutes. Sorry Sasuke, your ancester was way much sexier than you in the Orochimaru hideout and beats you by a million points).

Screaming Hashirama’s name like a cockatoo for 300 times even till the very end (Sorry Naruto, your obsession towards Sasuke for about 6 arcs is pale in comparison to Madara’s obsession which was established in just 6 or 7 episodes.)

I have 25 clones now. Do you want me to put Susanoo or not? You can’t answer. The answer is yes. (Man, his I don’t give a fuck attitude is just an alien level thing)

Openly admitting Only Hashirama Can Beat Me (Say what you will about Sasuke, Madara has no qualms about accepting his inferiority in terms of power. An absolute Straight Forward diva-queen)

Awakening Sharingan for breaking up with his ‘friend’ rather than for his 3 dead brothers. (Geez, Poor Soul. He is the forefather of a Romantic Uchiha. That romantic blood still flows in Sasuke)

6. Senju Hashirama

Man, I would have placed him somewhere in top 5 if only he was introduced early or had more scenes. I started watching Naruto only because of this very name. There is a local podcaster in my state who goes under the alias of Senju Hashirama and in his podcasts, he hinted about this character and how he was inspired by his ideals. I just googled and saw that this character belonged to Naruto series and I considered watching it. Here I am, making analysis on that very series.

There was this excellent build up for him right when we got introduced to Captain Yamato. He was constantly referred in flashbacks from Itachi and Tobi especially.

But the moment he was reanimated again..... Geez..... It was an hilarious ride all throughout. Out of all the flashbacks we got from this series, Founders Era flashback was my absolute favourite.

From where I come from, we are still under the stupid influence of Clan infrastructure and are not growing up in many aspects like people in western countries do. For me, I hope, one day, someone like Senju Hashirama appears in our state and change our lives for better by uniting all clans as one and treats everyone equally without the shitty favouritism for their own children, friends, parents, siblings.

That’s why this dialogue struck a thunder in my heart

“Be they a friend.... Be they a sibling.... Be it even my own child. I will not forgive anyone who threatens the village.”

Because the clan leaders in our place are absolutely selfish, trash bastards who serves their own needs with no regards for other people from other clans. For a person like me, Hashirama is not just a fictional hero, he is someone who many aspires to become. No wonder that podcaster chose this name as his alias.

He rightfully deserved the title ‘God of Shinobi’. And no one can surpass him, not even Naruto.

Best Moments:

Wood Style vs Eternal Mangekyou sharingan + Kurama powered Madara (He just beats Madara’s ass by a wide margin. This shows he was a whole fucking different level than Naruto + Sasuke combined. In terms of strength, nobody surpassed him YET. Sorry Naruto and Sasuke, you guys are no match even now with your Rinnegan and Kurama lost forever).

His entire banters with Madara (ROFLLLL. Without him, it would have been just another lifeless arc.)

5. Senju Tobirama

Hmmm, let me tell you something about him.

First off, he is not a racist or fascist as many hardcore Sasuke fanatics claims. He is one of the best hokages according to me. He is abso-fucking-lutely practical, rational, logical and holds no grudge. And Sasuke resembles Tobirama with all these characteristics as compared to soft and naive Naruto. If only he had more screen time, he would be easily in my top 3. 

Just because he didn’t lick the boots of Uchiha (many people’s favorite clan or may I say the only clan that was given any shit about in this series), it doesn’t make him a racist or fascist.

No, he never persecuted the Uchihas. Danzo, the crass bastard, driven off the Uchihas only after the Kyuubi incident. It was explicitly mentioned in the databook and was clearly explained in the series. 

He literally gave the highest position in the village for the entire clan. That is, a military power inside a military village. ‘Shinobi who can cause crimes can only be stopped by shinobi who are even better’. In my state, if a powerful clan decided to persecute another clan, they simply start by cutting off basic amenities like Water and Electricity. Compared to what I’ve seen, Tobirama did nothing but given the Uchihas, the highest position in their village. 

Orochimaru only said giving such a power made them conceited (arrogant). Tobirama had a trusted subordinate called Kagami, an Uchiha in his team. He suggested Kabuto to help Sasuke and even teleported him on his request. He even spited Madara for killing Sasuke, an Uchiha. He openly claimed Uchiha clan exceeds Senju in terms of Love. He openly appreciated Itachi and Kagami as someone who sees beyond their clan. In what world, would a racist or fascist do all this for a clan he hates??? 

Yes, he was cautious of Sasuke at first because he saw him with Orochimaru and even went full-on battle mode because of Sasuke’s carefree threat to destroy the village. But once he decided to go to the battlefield to fight Madara, he simply forgot everything that happened before and started to work with him as a comrade, and even helped him twice. In which world, a racist or fascist behave this way?

Believe me, a person like me who was grown with these clan politics surely can say who is a fascist. He was not. He was just cautious of them because of their ability to attain superpowers with just emotions alone. Let me ask you all this, ‘Would you be okay with people getting crazy powers whenever they are depressed?’. Being cautious is not racism. It really disrespects people who faced real oppression under fascism.

What Madara and Danzo did was a classical example of fascism. 

And No, Izuna didn’t die only because of Tobirama. He died because Madara was too arrogant to instigate war with Senju clan. And this was way before forming Konoha. If Tobirama killed Izuna after the alliance between Uchiha and Senju, I would agree that he was a racist. Izuna lost his life just like any other Uchiha and Senju soldiers in that battlefield. 

Just because he shitted your beloved ‘Sasuke-Kun’ doesn’t mean he is a racist too. Tobirama saw Sasuke along with that scoundrel Orochimaru who once used this very two hokages to destroy the very village they strived hard to create and protect. What will you do, if you were in his place?? Please don’t lie and say ‘I wouldn’t be judgemental’. 

And Imagine you are Tobirama, Sasuke is threatening to commit genocide against the entire village who had no idea about this coup detat instead of going against those old hags. Will you sit quiet as a Hokage?? 

He was the first person to suggest his brother, Itama, that Revenge against Uchihas are futile. All we need is an agreement to make truce. That gave the idea for Hashirama to pursue his dream. And Tobirama was happy to follow that dream and very supportive. 

It’s because of all these reasons I placed him above Senju Hashirama.

Best Moments:

Amazing power display against Sasuke & Co with just an index finger (It was a pleasure to see everyone’s face trembling with mild sweat including Sasuke).

Acted as a decoy to save his young subordinates. (The way he sacrificed his life saying young wills of fire must be protected is just Woow!! I wish his subordinates listened to his words and passed the mantle to the younger ones rather than playing game at such an old age and screwed up many lives. Pfft!!!)

Any time he says ‘Shut Up’ to Hashirama (ROFL)

His absolute ‘I don’t give a fuck’ attitude to Naruto, Sasuke, Hashirama, Minato and Madara (He trolled them all mercilessly and I love it)

4. Senju Tsunade

It hurts me to say that Tsunade is the only female character in my list because every other female characters were written in a much more piss poorly way. Only Konan came close to Tsunade but her role was very short. 

Despite her character’s purpose revolved around another male character (Dan) and a blatant objectification of her breasts, I liked everything about her other than those mentioned above. 

She is the Second Best Hokage who took Konoha right after the destruction made by Orochimaru, excellently handled the aftermath by making friendly relations with Suna (Sand village), provided her best medical support to Konoha in the Pain Arc and successfully handled the fourth Shinobi world war. 

She is such a badass who developed her own original jutsu called Byakugou no Jutsu, which can heal herself. 

She is just way too amazing and it’s a pity that we got very less scenes in Shippuden.

Best Moments:

Took 25+ stabs from Madara’s Susanoo like a piece of cake (Man, I simply couldn’t describe that scene. All the other Kages were shocked and even Madara too)

Lifted her advisors like a cabbage sack (Those fucking old hags deserved it. Those shits should’ve died)

Her index finger flick assault on Naruto (Aww, Naruto was definitely bratty in his first meeting and Tsunade didn’t hold back at all)

Played Orochimaru like a basketball (In that same arc, she fought Orochimaru mercilessly like a devil left and right. Someone who claimed to have surpassed Tsunade never even dared to fight Orochimaru’s student and crying for his attention after just receiving one stab from Madara. Just saying)

3. Uzumaki Naruto

Naruto is the titular character and your emotions evolve along with him. He surely deserves a spot in Top 3. The only reason I didn’t place Naruto even more higher is because he didn’t experience something very important which many characters in this list faced. That is, Losing a loved one before his eyes. Every villain in this series became what they are because they lost someone important before their eyes like Nagato, Obito. (Nope, I don’t count Neji as his loved one). I think this tests the mettle of any character and Naruto failed to experience this. The only person he ever lost was Jiraiya and that too from off-screen. That’s why I felt his journey to his dreams seemed little easier compared to the rest of the characters.

His best block of episodes will always be the part 1 Episode 1, 2, 3. Episode 1 is the character defining episode for Naruto and what he learned there will be applied everywhere till the very end of the series. He learned 3 things

Forgiveness, Empathy and Acceptance

Talk-No-Jutsu

Kage Bunshin no Jutsu

From then on, this boy wins many friends to his side, not only from Konoha but from other villages too and even made them to acknowledge his strength only through his sheer hard work. 

However, there is this person, whose acknowledgement he wants the most.  That person is his most important bond along with Iruka Sensei. He is none other than Sasuke. One day, Sasuke left him alone for some unavoidable reason at the end of part 1 which left a huge scar in him and he vows to bring him back to the place where he belongs. That becomes his ultimate goal rather than becoming an Hokage.

The way he goes to any extent to protect the people he cares about is just simply entertaining to watch.

Every time he makes an heroic entry to save the day was never boring, not once. 

Best Moments:

Sobbing from his heart after hearing Iruka Sensei acknowledging him (It just makes me feel heavy for no reason. The anime team did an awesome job to capture his emotions convincingly)

Awakening Kyuubi Mode for the first time after seeing Sasuke die in his arms (Man, out of all the collective hatred he got from the villagers, this moment affected him a lot speaks volumes)

Punching Neji from the underground to win the Chunin exams (God, I honestly believed Naruto lost but he just surprised us heavily from nowhere. And that failure speech was just pure bliss to watch even today)

Pain Vs Naruto (One of the best arc for Naruto. Because unlike other arcs, where Naruto fought with a team, this arc he was all alone fighting a person with Rinnegan. Be it the exuberant landing from the frogs with a dramatic kabuki music, creating multi-step attacks, coming up with novel solution in that difficult situation, finally ending the conflict without killing the enemy, becoming an hero. Superb journey. The only thing I didn’t like in that arc is some shitty selfish proposal. PUKE!!)

Bearing the burdens of his most important person and die along with him (This boy always shouts he will never die until he becomes an Hokage. But for Sasuke, he was ready to die along with him in order to not leave him alone proves how much he loves him. This shows his emotional maturity rather than shouting at Sasuke like he always did before which never reached his ears. This time it did)

Final Good Bye to Minato (Honestly, I was bawling just like Naruto in that scene no matter how many times I watch it. It started out slow but as he speaks more and more, he simply couldn’t hold back and wept a sea of tears 😭😭😭)

2. Uchiha Sasuke

One of the well written characters in this series, with all the flaws and positive stuffs which makes him more of an Anti-Hero. He always subverts my preformed opinions and never ceased to surprise me.

Despite being aloof and cold, his warmer side will always be exposed towards Naruto. This is evident by many things he had done for Naruto which he don’t have to or no reason to. Starting right from roasting Sakura, offering lunch, asking for tips, enquiring about breakfast, protecting him many times and dying for Naruto. 

Why I placed him above Naruto is because of his unavoidable decision to tread in a complicated dark path primarily due to the trauma he carried and was stirred up again by collective factors such as Orochimaru’s cursed seal, Itachi’s arrival and Naruto’s growth. Compared to Sasuke, Naruto had an easier path because he never saw anyone die before his eyes and hence he don’t carry any trauma which can divert his path.

Even after watching his entire clan and family members murdered before his eyes at an age 8, he managed to pull himself and never snapped out like many other good characters does. But the moment when he found out that Itachi was good all along, he simply couldn’t tolerate the truth and gave himself to Vengeance. Because, he loved his brother more than he hated him all these years. This shows he loved his brother more than his parents. His resolve to destroy Konoha was perfectly understandable. But is it good? Nope. He can kill Danzo and those old hags but killing other people was never justifiable.

But still, his resolve to have his vengeance was diverted by Naruto and weakened by Itachi, at some point. So, he decided to know the truth and when he heard it, he understood the Hokages also sacrificed many precious things to protect this village just like his Brother Itachi. He understood the mistakes of his clan and decided to protect the village which he swore to destroy. [Many Sasuke fanatics think that he succumbed to the Government and Kishi wrote Sasuke to bootlick them. Their idea was to tackle genocide with another genocide. What a stupid idea!!!!]

And No, I don’t consider him trying to kill Sakura, Karin and Kakashi as his bad moments (though I feel bad for Karin). For the simple reason being, he became a monster by losing himself in the darkness who lost the rationality to differentiate friends from foes. Much similar to how Naruto lost himself to Kyuubi’s hatred against Orochimaru and in Pain Arc. It’s so hypocritical to ignore Naruto and accuse Sasuke here. Plus, Sakura had no business to be there otherwise Sasuke would not have tried to kill her. 

But does it mean Sasuke did nothing wrong???

Nope.

He definitely shouldn’t have joined Akatsuki and hunted Killer Bee like an animal. Because, he knew that Tobi was the one who helped Itachi massacre the clan. When fighting Itachi he specifically vowed to kill Madara (Tobi). On top of that, Itachi passed on Amaterasu in his eyes specifically to stay away from Tobi. Why did he ally with him? Plus, Sasuke was one of the few characters who was exposed to the name ‘Akatsuki’ in part 1 itself. He clearly knew that this organization targets Naruto, his closest bond. Why did he join there? This is where the stupid part of Sasuke came out. I was grunting... ‘Oii Where did that clever Sasuke, who faced 1000 soldiers without killing any of them, went??’. 

And his plan for Revolution???? I thought it would be reasonable. But his vision was eerily similar to Danzo’s vision. Grrr..... Danzo also wanted to create his ideal village by destroying the current Hokage. He wanted to unite the Five Village and put himself on top of everyone as evident from the Kage Summit arc. 

I appreciate him that he finally adopted the Will of Fire, by wanting to protect the village at all costs just like Itachi and Hashirama did. But his methods are not very democratic. Plus, he wanted to do it alone. I was screaming at him... ‘Grrr, Sasuke, did you listen to Itachi at all???. He failed because he did everything alone. Why can’t you understand????’ This is also another instance, Sasuke’s stupidity glanced out.

I am happy Naruto knocked some sense into him by telling him not to do it alone but together.

Many fanatics also ask, ‘What did Sasuke do wrong to atone for his sins at the end?’.

I was like ‘Reallly????’

He joined Akatsuki, an organization which terrorized all the 5 villages and he hunted someone like an international criminal.

He spoiled the Kage Summit and attacked Raikage who lost his arm because of him. I know what happened over there is not Sasuke’s fault. But these are the kages who was loved by many people in their own villages. How can the world forget it and simply let him go?

It’s exactly because of all those lovely stuffs he did in Part 1 and all these mistakes he did in Part 2 but willing to correct his mistakes by sharing the burdens of his other half in the end made him more interesting, complicated and exciting and that’s why I love this character.

I also have a personal bias to love this character sooo much because of the character on top of my list.

Best Moments:

Defending Naruto before Sakura (Awww!!! Such a good boy he was. Eventhough I thought he was a typical arrogant K-Drama hero, he just subverted my opinion in that one scene. I always have a thing for people who stands up for someone even though they don’t have to. This is where I started to like Sasuke)

My body moved on its own. (Is there anything that trumps this scene in terms of emotions and love in this series?. This moment is where I understood the depth of Sasuke’s emotions towards Naruto).

What is a Clan? What is a Village? What is a Shinobi? (I was really hoping for Sasuke to question himself something similar to this. Because he was so self-absorbed in his hatred and failed to look outside him ever since he left the village. It was so gratifying that he did that)

Killing Orochimaru (I always thought Sasuke will kill him only after he tries to take over the body. Never imagined that he will strike the snake first)

Killing Danzo (Man, what an amazing battle!!!. It was so gratifying to see such a crass bastard die many times over and over).

His dramatic confession through his monologue (After the mystery of Who is this Tobi, Sasuke’s obsession towards Naruto remained a mystery for me. Why did he listen to Naruto under the bridge? Why did he protected Naruto in the War? I got the answer only after this confession. It was so heartwarming to see this mellow side of Sasuke)

1. Uchiha Itachi

I could write pages about him. The foremost reason I like Itachi and earns the top spot in my rankings is because he shockingly resembled me in many ways. As I already said, I come from a place where clan politics plays a major role and when I see Sasuke’s flashback in part 1, I was simply dumbstruck by such a detailed similarities.

Elder child of the family - ✅

Have an adorable younger sister who loves me more than my parents - ✅

Same age gap (5 years) with my sister as Itachi and Sasuke - ✅

Parents paying total attention on me while ignoring my sister completely - ✅

Parents constantly comparing my achievements with my sister - ✅

A sister who bear hugged me every time I entered the home after returning from my school - ✅

Despite my mom being a teacher, my sister always prefers me to teach her stuffs as she considers me to be way too better than my mom -  ✅

Love my sister more than my parents - ✅

Clan-Obsessed parents - ✅

Used me as a tool for the benefit of the clan - ✅

Sending another person from my clan to spy on me - ✅

Strained relationship with my parents - ✅

Disgusted with my clan - ✅

Most importantly, this dialogue from part 1 episode 129,

Clan? Clan?

Obsessed with the organization, Obsessed with the clan, Obsessed with the name, that’s merely the detestable action that restrict yourself.

I have given up all hope in this worthless clan

Because, people obsess themselves to their clan, a thing so petty, they lose sight of the things that are truly important.

A real change cannot occur under restraints and controls

I confronted my parents with the exact same dialogue (almost 98% similar) in my own native language some years ago. 

I didn’t even know the existence of Naruto series at that time. I was simply shell-shocked by all these similarities with this character. 

And Yes, The moment I heard these dialogues, I knew Itachi, was a good guy, who had a very strong reason for his actions and I instantly knew Sasuke’s revenge will not bear him any happiness. 

It is exactly because of all these striking similarities of myself with Itachi, and my lil’l sister with Sasuke, my family dynamics with the Uchiha family.... I could understand the magnitude of Sasuke’s love towards Itachi. 

And precisely because of that, I could understand Sasuke’s love towards Naruto is not fucking ‘brotherly’ one but something that leans towards Attraction. 

No wonder, Itachi left Sasuke in Naruto’s care. 

Anyways to speak objectively, 

Itachi is an extremely self-sacrificial person whose life is full of pain and miseries but never blames it on the world unlike other Uchiha members like Madara, Obito and Sasuke to an extent.

He did things considering the bigger picture which never benefitted himself in anyway and was willing to go to any extent even at the expense of his own family and his brother’s happiness. That is, Uchiha Clan Massacre and Joining Akatsuki. None of this benefitted him in anyways but he did it anyway, for the village of Konoha. 

His ideals are shockingly similar to Hashirama, Which Sasuke pointed this out and Hashirama acknowledged that Itachi was a better shinobi than he was. ❤️❤️❤️

Now, does this means I support Uchiha clan massacre?

No way. Even Itachi didn’t.

This massacre happened because of the huge clusterfuck from Hiruzen’s incompetence, Danzo’s paranoid arrogance, Uchiha clan’s devious plan to over throw the government by force rather than approaching it in a peaceful way, say, a peace talk or a protest. 

All these people acted on their own self-interest. Itachi and Shisui caught in their whirlpool, bear their burdens and paid for it with their life. Sasuke suffered for it.

But, it’s not the only reason I love this character. It’s because, the moment he decided to massacre everyone, he marked his own death by the hands of his beloved brother. I love people who owns up their mistakes and face the consequences rather than making excuses (even though it’s not entirely his mistake).

Itachi is also the only character in this series who realized his failures on his own without anyone’s interference or Naruto’s Talk-No-Jutsu. 

And he apologized for everything he did to Sasuke.

Again, some hardcore Sasuke fanatics criticize/hate him for torturing their poor ‘Sasuke-Kun’ with his Tsukuyomi. I was like ‘Hmmm...What?’. 

First off, Itachi apologized to Sasuke for not thinking out from his point of view and also for not telling him the truth earlier.

Second off, Sasuke never even blamed Itachi for anything (even he didn’t hold him for killing their parents). If Sasuke himself, forgiven Itachi... Why are his fans being so rabid?

Third off, for all of his supposed ‘crimes’, he paid for it by dying as a disgraceful Madman rather than a Hero who really saved the village. He is someone who should be celebrated like Naruto but instead died proudly as a Traitor of Konoha.

All in all, One of the wonderfully written character I have ever seen in the media. 

Best Moments:

Itachi vs Sasuke (That battle was a pure brilliance and highly emotional especially after knowing the truth. When Sasuke released his Kirin, Itachi showed off his ultimate armour Susanoo like a badass. Seeing Susanoo for the first time gave me chills. No, Sasuke didn’t kill him. Itachi died on his own)

Itachi vs Orochimaru (Man, Itachi may look mellow but when it comes to Orochimaru he is a pure Sass. He screwed that snake up both the times by a wide margin. It seems Uchiha brothers like to fuck up Orochimaru, LOL)

Talk-No-Jutsu’ing Naruto (Geez, Naruto was being completely bratty and was full of saviour complex like he was going to bear everyone’s hatred by himself. I was almost annoyed. Thanks to Itachi, he realised. Probably he is the only character to shut Naruto using his own jutsu)

Izanami’ing Kabuto (Other than Naruto, he is the only character to go out of his way to empathize with a villain and put extreme effort to change him. I think this is why Sasuke loves Naruto, for seeing these similarities??? ).

Goodbye to Sasuke (The first time when he said ‘Forgive me, Sasuke. This is the last’ by poking his forehead and finally closing the distance by butting with Sasuke’s head softly saying ‘I will love you always’.... It always evokes uncontrollable tears in me, no matter how many times I watch it 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭)

HONOURABLE MENTION

Uchiha Obito

God, Am such a sucker for Uchiha guys individually, though collectively as a clan they fucked up big time. I simply couldn’t find the place for him in the top 10. He is a classic example of What Naruto will be like if he becomes a villain?

However, all those horrible stuffs he did just for a girl whom he had a crush on which was never reciprocated seems childish. That’s why I couldn’t put him in Top 10.

And his understandable but weird obsession on Naruto was always enjoyable to watch. 

One cute thing I liked about him was, whatever criminal stuffs he may have done, he was never a cheapskate though. He had every chance to take back Kakashi’s Sharingan to activate his own Susanoo. But he never even thought of such an idea. He was a bad guy. But a good friend, no matter what. 

Pure Baby!!! But lost his way!!!

Best Moments:

Importance of Team Work (’In the ninja world, Those who break the rules are  scum. But those who abandon their comrades are worse than scum’. This very legacy he left to Kakashi came to defeat him later. And Naruto follows this motto even today)

Sacrificing his Sharingan (’I am giving you my Sharingan. No matter what the villagers say, you are a great Jonin. Please take it’. Awww!!! Obito. He left his Sharingan which helped Kakashi to complete a jutsu called ‘Chidori’, which is a go-to jutsu of Sasuke)

Thanks for the ask, anon. I thoroughly enjoyed writing this. ❤️

[shepard-ram]

Hello I'm light anon and i bring you the first chapter of an au i started awhile ago with the help of Ender anon (hi love you/p) , the supernatural au named Abnormalities and its very long

Abnormalities

Chapter One - Phasmophobia 2.5k words

:readmore:

“Prove it then.” 

Of course, Sap and Dream’s arguments always lead to some sort of challenge. Ever since you met them in middle school, it’s been like that. Sap would say something, Dream would fire back because Sap was clearly wrong in his eyes, and it would spiral from there. Today’s topic of debate: The existence of the paranormal. Specifically, ghosts.

What sparked it? A cheesy horror film you picked out for the monthly movie night. Your stereotypical ghost film with lazy jump scares with bad effects and acting.you only bought it so you four could laugh at it. You Guys laud sprawled on the couch while Sap took up the floor. All was well, Until Sap proclaimed that real ghosts wouldn’t be that shitty. Dream, heavily disagreed that ghosts even existed. George didn’t take a side but you backed Sap up. The world is to weird not to have ghosts in it.

”Oh absolutely.” Sap nodded, agreeing with your assessment.

Dream rolled his eyes “Sure, sure, just how are you going to prove me wrong? There isn’t a ‘haunted building’ anywhere in town.”

 At that moment George decided to speak up “What about the old willbeck farm?, the one a couple miles out of town. I always heard it was haunted by a kid or something.”

“That stupid place?  Those were just stories are parents told us to keep us from trespassing.”

You shrugged. “It’s a start.”

Next thing you know, you and sap blew your paychecks on ghost hunting equipment. You ordered the basics, an EMF meter, a good camera, a thermometer, you even bought a ‘Spirit box’ and some smudge sticks, all too spite Dream who complained that you were being scammed. 

You both ended up begging George to use his car to load up your equipment as he was the only one to have a large enough car for your equipment. He relented after a day of relentless begging. 

The Willbeck farm was a 40 minute drive from your home, which left a lot of room for discussion.

“You three are idiots.” 

You leaned forward to poke your head over the passenger seat. “You didn’t have to come, you know. You could have stayed back and do boring things like dressing up patches or something.”

He turned his head with narrowed eyes. “And make sure you guys didn’t fake your ‘proof?’ Not a chance.”

You laugh. “You’ll be the first one we feed to the ghosts.”

You bickered back and forth until George announced that they had finally made it. Not even seconds after he pulled into the clearing in front of the property, you and Sap practically kept out of the car and rushed to the trunk to get your gear. After distributing equipment amounts your group you took your first look at the house

The Farmhouse was much larger than you remembered reading about. It was a huge two story red building with a faded white trim. The word around it looked like it had been rotting for years and it definitely smelt like rot. AMany of the windows were broken in, and the glass was a gross brown color. The roof had some holes in it and the gutters had been ripped from the roof and laid scattered around the outside. A large barn was off to the side and had the same kind of wear to it. The entire property was surrounded by a torn up wire fencing, which had a lot of crows perched, eyeing you intensely. The Erie feeling the house gave off was intensified by the soft sound of the wind and the loud crow caws. 

If houses had a criteria to be haunted, this one checked off all the boxes

Sap let out a low whistle before lightly nudging your arm “Dude, this place makes your home look tiny!”

You scoffed at that. Sure your rented home was small, but was cheap enough to pay for while you worked your way through community college. A one bedroom, one bath, a combined kitchen/living space, all on top of a double garage was all you needed. 

It was a slow walk to the porch, all of you hesitant to actually set foot in the run down building. The steps creaked under you, and the wooden boards sunk slightly. You were at the head of the group, so you were the first one inside, taking a couple steps in the large foyer. It was full of outdated furniture, something you’d see out of the early 90’s. A large staircase sat to the left, hugging the wall as it pushed into the upstairs.  There was a door to your right, leading into what you believe was the kitchen.

You held the camera up and you got a good shot of the room, if there were no ghosts you’d at least have some cool photos.

The four of you spread out into  the room observing every corner of it. Sapnap was the one armed with the EMF reader. He waved the hand held device trying to get something, anything to read. He did manage to get one, honing onto a stuffed cow that was nestled into the couch.

It was dusty, like everything else in the room. Otherwise it was in semi good condition. It was... cute. Too cute to just be sitting in this old farmhouse for the rest of time. Dream had other opinions.

“That means nothing. It’s just a cow.” 

To be fair, it was the first time either of you had used this kind of equipment. You decided to put it in your bag, hoping to study it later. It could be a fluke, but you guys couldn’t bow down now!  The hunt has only just begun.

Every room on the first floor was subject to an EMF and Temperature checks. Dream and George fucked around while you and Sap scanned for anything that could be more than a fluke, the only thing that could be found was in the kitchen. A small carved statue of a crow.

It gave off the same readings as the cow plush, so perhaps it wasn’t a fluke. You found it sitting on the open windowsill, it was so life-like you almost mistake it for a living crow. Something was telling you that it was probably the oldest thing in the house. You gently placed it in your bag with the cow, another piece to your growing collection.

You took a moment to glance out the window. There were way too many crows sitting on the wire fence to be normal. It was the beginning of summer, so crows even migrate?

With the first floor cleared, you lead the charge upstairs. The floor boards only got louder with every step. You quietly asked whatever prime deity was watching that neither of your group would fall through the floor. The whole house felt unstable.

The top of the stairs lead you to a Hallway. It was small and only had two doors and at the end of it stood a large magnificent bookshelf.

You took the first door on the left accompanied by George while Sap and Dream opted to poke around in the hallway, formally splitting the group for the first time.

The room wasn’t very Large, nor could you tell what it was supposed to be used for as pretty much everything was covered with sheets of some kind. There were a couple of uncovered boxes laying on top of things, so it wasn’t completely boring. A couple of minutes of scavenging later, George called for your attention.

“Look at this” George presented you a beautiful lute from one of the few uncovered boxes. It was crafted out of a dark wood and had what you thought was engravings of fish along the sides. How old was this thing? Was it even usable?

“Let me see!” You asked, setting down the camera before making a grabby motion towards the lute, which was met with a questioning look from the Brit. “I want to see if it’s in tune.” 

He decided that it was a good enough answer before handing over the old thing. You strummed the strings, and it sounded surprisingly good, despite the cloud of dust that came off it. You paused for a brief moment before playing a quick melody, just a song you played back in middle school for a recital. You hummed along until yelps from outside and many thumps. 

You quickly set the Lute down and follow George out the door, fearing that something had gotten your two friends. However, instead of a gory mess, you saw Dream standing holding a book, while a whole pile of them at his feet, a few inches away from the bookshelf. 

“The shelves just collapsed on themselves.” He quietly said. The look on his face was puzzled, like he was still trying to figure out what had happened. 

“Or maybe,” Sap started. “The ghost doesn’t like you touching his stuff.”

“I’m keeping it then, the ghost doesn’t need it.” 

“What’s the title of it?” You asked as you fake over to view the damage. Dream opened the book and flipped through it. 

“It’s old, There isn’t a title nor is it in English, old English I think.”

What was such an old book doing in a relatively modern house? You shake the thought away and motioned for Dream to give it to you. “I’ll hold onto it, I want to see if I can get it translated.” Another treasure for your growing collection.

You turned back to check on George, he wasn’t next to you, instead he was messing with the final door, seeming to unjam the lock and push into the room. You decided to grab the lute and take it as a keepsake.

Picking it up again made your head feel... loud. You couldn’t tell which thoughts were yours and which were intruding. A pair of eyes were watching you somehow but the room was empty. Panic rose in your chest, your heart was beating so so loud. A cold hand touched your shoulders, yet you couldn’t tell if it meant you harm or not.

“Hey... are you okay?”

And it stopped. Everything was clear again. You turned your head to look back seeing Sap poke his head through the door. “You’ve been standing here for a while.”

You nod, “Yeah yeah... we should- we should stop splitting up.”

You’d only find out later that the Lute has the same effects that the other two objects did.

The house search was a bit of a bust. The only ‘Supernatural’ experience you had was the EMF meter going off and the strange experience with the lute which you opted not to tell your friends about, writing off as the Erie nature of the house getting to you.

Finding nothing else interesting, you took one last look at the entrance room before stepping out. You feel a weird sense of longing, something pulling at you not to go. You tried to shake off the feeling and you walked back to the car, just to put all your goodies away in the trunk. 

All that was left on your to-do list was to check the outside area and the barn. Being the person that you are, you went straight to the barn. They boys could handle the rest of the property alone. alone  The building had no doors you waltzed right though the entryway. Despite never actually being in a barn, it looked right to you.

It was devoid of any livestock, but there was Hay everywhere. Light shined through the holes in the ceiling, making the room clear enough. The soft blue liquid that was spread across the hay-

Wait. What?

Doing a second take revealed that the whole barn has some weird blue goo smeared everywhere. It looked too Fresh to be painted, it looked wet. There didn’t seem to be a set trail, just pools of it. You found most of it by a ladder that led up to a new section of the barn.

The blue substance was dripping from the loft of the barn. 

It had to be.

And you were right! Sort of. Finally dragging yourself up the old latter not really minding the blue that now stained your clothes, you found the source.

He was standing- floating?- there, as if waiting for someone. The man was tall, taller than you or any of their friends, absolutely towering over you. His entire pallet was muted, his skin was fucking Grey. His attire was strange too. Something out of a renaissance fair. What was the strangest was that he was translucent and bleeding? Out of a cut on his chest. That blue substance oozing out of his stomach onto the floor boards.

He smiled.

“You found me, little songbird.”

The temperature drop had you shivering, but that also could have been from the absolute terror of seeing a real ghost.

That loud feeling returned in full force, directing your attention onto him.. You had to go. But it was like you were frozen place. He moved to cup your face, cooing as he looked you over.

“It’s not polite to touch things that aren’t yours, yet you handle them with so much care... I don’t mind.”

He wasn’t acting out of malice, thank prime, but It didn’t make it any less uncomfortable. He was too close.

“.... pretty songbird. My pretty songbird.”

A beat past before you could hear your friends calling for you. Your head cleared for a moment so you took it and ran. Practically flying down the ladder and hurting yourself in the fall. Ignoring the pain you booked it to the car right past Dream and Sap, who were standing by the entrance to the barn.

“We- We have to go. Now. Please we need to... to...” you couldn’t really tell what you were saying, everything was moving too fast. Great Prime, that was a real ghost. You- You were talking to a ghost. A Ghost called you a Song bird. 

A Ghost.

That ended your hunt right there and then. You weren’t in a fit state to keep going. Especially not when you’re covered in... whatever this blue stuff is. You’d come to find later that you had a blue hand print on your face, right where the man had cradled your face.

You’re so out of it, you don’t realize when your friends are guiding you up the stairs to your home. One of them says something about leaving the loot in your garage, but you don’t really care. This is a future problem. You give a small thank you and a swift goodbye before passing out the second you feel your pillow under you.

So deep in sleep you don’t realize that your tiny home has a few new residents wandering about. 

Or the fact that one of them watched over you as you slept

-----------

I AM SIMPLY ASHAMED OF HOW LONG IVE BEEN PUTTING THIS OFF IT WAS A CRINE TO NOT LET Y'ALL SEE THIS EARLIER. LIGHT YOU'VE DONE A FANTASTIC JOB AAUAUGGG

[yayteaberry]

*SFW* Babysitting (Bakugou)

Rarely did he ever take a Saturday off from either training or studying, he was determined to stay better than everyone else. But, it had been raining since yesterday and he felt like he deserved a break anyways. From morning to afternoon, he enjoyed doing absolutely nothing, scrolling his social media and avoiding liking any of his friends posts on principle.

Shitty hair still won’t shut up about the selfie he liked so now nobody gets any.

His planned day of nothing is interrupted by a knock at his door, and he’s been pacified by memes to a degree where he doesn’t react violently to the intrusion.

Instead he shoves his phone into his pocket as gets up and opens the door, plain faced until he sees it’s you and that you’re holding something. Well, someone.

“Hey!”, you greet with an unusual level of enthusiasm, “I need you to do a favor for me.”

“A favor?”, he asks while he takes in the fact that you’re holding a baby, dressed in a striped onesie.

“Yeah, I’m kinda busy with stuff and I need someone to keep an eye on this little cutie for a bit!” To emphasize the importance or maybe sway him, you turn the baby around so he can see the chubby face.

“... If you’re asking me to babysit it, then no.”

You click your tongue against your teeth, rolling your eyes. “Well don’t call her by ‘it’, and I really need you to do this for me!”

He puts a hand on the door to signal that he’s about to close it, “Nah. Ask shitty hair or Deku, I think they’d love to drool over your kid.” “It’s my aunts baby!”, you say as you put your foot over the threshold, jostling the baby somewhat, which excitedly babbles as it meets his eyes, “They’re busy too, I tried asking! Believe me, you weren’t my first choice.”

“What do you mean by that?” He speaks with annoyance, opening the door fully as his competitive nature rises.

Internally you give a sigh of relief, externally you place the baby on your hip. “Bakugou, I think we both know that you’re awful with children. But you’re my last option and I have nowhere else to turn.”

“I should’ve been your first choice! I’m a fuckin’ wiz at keeping brats well behaved! Gimme!”

“Ah!”, you step out of range of his attempted grab and put out your pointer finger, “Don’t yell at the baby, don’t be aggressive with the baby, and most of all, don’t yell at the baby.”

In spite of your words you know full well he’ll do nothing of the sort, just wanting to give the appearance so he’ll be on his best behavior. He doesn’t have to know he was actually the only one you wanted to watch her.

After all his surface level bullying you can tell he’s soft on the inside, knowing he’s the least likely to give into a baby's whims while also being gentle enough to avoid making her cry.

“Yeah yeah.”, he grumbles, taking her from you when you extend her towards him, “When are you gonna collect the brat?”

You give a 50/50 gesture, shrugging, “Ah an half hour to two hours, but I’ll be back before three hours for sure! She’s been fed and changed recently but just in case,” A bag is revealed when you pull it from behind your back, taking it off by the strap and setting it inside.

“Diapers and toys, if she’s hungry there’s something for her in there too. Just, be careful about that, she’s sorta young for it.”

He nods at your words, watching her grapple at his shirt, having not once taken his eyes off her.

“Thank you!”, you chirp and give him a kiss on the cheek, knowing that he can’t do anything about it while holding her. That makes him glance up at you with some minor malice, which is reduced severely by the dusting of pink across his nose.

With that you take your leave, confident he’ll do fine.

He shuts the door and sits at the edge of his bed, cradling her in his arms. After a moment he takes a look over to the bag you left, thinking it’d probably be best to fish something out of there for her to do.

While he wasn’t experienced in caring for a baby in any capacity that felt like common sense. Plus, it’d allow him to continue wasting time on his phone.

“You,” he gently places her on the middle of the bed as he stands, “are not taking my Saturday from me with your tiny incapable hands.”

With one hand he grabs the bag off the floor and sets it on the bed beside her, opening it and digging through its contents. You were right, the thing is loaded with diapers and many different plastic objects.

Keys, babies love keys.

That toy seems the best choice, taking that and a blanket out before putting the bag on the floor nearby, holding the baby like a barrel under his arm while he flattens the blanket, then placing her on her belly.

He dangles the keys in front of her, watching as her eyes widen as she takes a horribly aimed swipe towards them. With a laugh tinged snort he lets her have them, sitting with his back against the bed and taking his phone out, resuming his leisure hobby.

A minute passes before he peeks over at her to make sure she’s still there, idly chewing on an orange key. It reminds him of something a puppy would do, up until she shoves it in way too far.

He drops his phone and yanks the keys away with concern she’ll vomit, not expecting her to look so upset over it. Briefly she contentedly waits for them to be returned, but when it becomes apparent they aren’t, she scowls.

“No,” he preemptively says, putting the keys down at his other side to keep them away, “you did something fucking stupid, so now they’re off limits. Don’t get all upset over it.”

She huffs and slams a hand down a few times, making a ‘gah’ with very demanding intent.

“I said no. Let me find something else then, calm down.”, he says as he reaches over to grab something random out of the bag, finding a plush red dinosaur. “See? Fun. Chew on this.”

He sets it down in front of her, and she immediately pushes it over, repeating herself. If nothing he gives her credit for having a strange amount of object permanence.

“I. Said. No. The fuck do you want me to do? You’re the one who can’t handle having the damn thing!” With a curt ‘no’ as a final statement, he leans over her to shove the keys back into the bag.

This turns out to be a huge mistake.

In a universally understood way, her face screws up as she starts taking in heavy breaths, which makes his eyebrows raise.

“Don’t. No crying.” his tone is as assertive as he can get it, shaking his head as if to cement it. Her tiny face turns red, sniffling once before fat tears begin to roll down her cheeks.

With no idea what to do in this situation, he starts rummaging through the bag for a solution, diapers spilling out as he digs for a similar toy if there even is one. He cringes as she really starts crying, caving and getting the keys back out, giving them to her. “See? See??”

She either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care, bawling in the way only babies do, arms giving out as she lays down.

His instincts on consoling anyone are terrible and usually not to be followed but he acts without thinking, picking her up and setting her in his lap, bouncing his leg as he pets her back, softly shushing her, ignoring the part of him that does in fact wish to yell at the baby.

Her tiny body trembles, pawing at his shirt as she rubs her tear stained face into it. Continuing to follow his instincts he lifts her up, both arms cradling her as her head rests against his shoulder. She does eventually calm, relaxing as quiet hiccuping replaces her sobs, breathing regulating.

She's effectively soothed, he on the other hand is completely shaken up.

Jesus, why did that scare him so much? He’d heard babies cry before and always was irritated by it, but this time there was something so different about it. Even now his heart is still racing, mouth dry as he stares forward into the wall with a mixture of worry and gratefulness.

Once she’s relaxed, he picks up the previously discarded dinosaur, placing it in his lap next to her. Thankfully, she seems to have forgotten about the keys, happy to latch onto the plushy.

He takes his phone back out with the intent to resume his earlier scrolling, but he can’t entirely take his eyes off her.  He’s more interested in watching her reactions than he’d ever admit.

In some ways she reminds him of you, mainly the eye color and the way her cheeks pinch up when she smiles.

You seem the motherly type to him so he assumes you’re leagues better at this than he is, but you’ve never mentioned having to babysit her before.

In fact you’ve never mentioned her before at all.

Maybe you enjoyed doing it but kept quiet so you didn’t have anyone intruding or asking to see her, babies can feel stranger danger so that made sense, it’d probably be overwhelming. She doesn’t hate him though, maybe you knew that she wouldn’t? 

Despite the panic she’s sent him through he really wouldn’t mind watching after her again. It'll probably be easier with you here, though he isn’t sure what he’d do if you were, he’d just be sitting around while you did everything.

God, she is really goddamned adorable. He smirks as he takes a second to allow himself to outwardly express something positive, watching her slap her tiny hand against the toy.

Usually the idea of having a baby is the worst one anyone can have, but right now he isn’t all that opposed to it. Not that it looks simple, more that it looks to be worth it.

He knows he’d make super cute babies, based on what he looks like and has always looked like the kid would outshine any other snot maker.

While he didn’t know what you looked like as a baby he just assumed you did too, briefly considering what a baby would look like if it came from you and him.

He’s got his mother's blonde hair despite his father's brunette coloring so that’s a dominant trait, possibly overriding your own but who can know, it’d more likely have more of your features.

Out of anything he’d want a little girl just like this one, though he’d be happy with anything as long as it's yours. Your features have always been something he likes, face as well as body, you’re built well in every aspect he tends to care about.

That, and your winning personality, even he can see that it’s a very pleasant contrast to his own. A kid with a mixture of both would be undoubtedly unstoppable, making him proud left and right.

Suddenly the thought bubble pops as reality rises to the surface.

You’re not his and he doesn’t like you anyways, this doesn’t bear so much thinking since it’ll never happen.

A heat takes to his cheeks as he tries to move on and pretend he wasn’t having a domestic fantasy involving you, mostly pretending he hadn’t had any fantasies about you.

It was something that’d creep into his mind sometimes.

Kirishima and Deku tended to have some softer traits alongside their bolder ones but it just wasn’t the same coming from either of them.

You had a certain tenacity to you, it was totally within your options to let some rich older man take care of you but you wanted more for yourself, you wanted to be a hero.

It made you strong, and you were strong because you worked for it constantly. As thick as your innocence tended to be, he was fairly confident you could knock him unconscious if it strikes you as the right choice.

He shook his head and made an effort to clear out all his emotions, directing his attention back towards the baby to ground himself. 

At some point during his daydreaming she’d knocked out cold, the dinosaur laying on the floor beside him, propped up against his chest, quietly snoozing while drooling a slight amount. Even if he wanted too he couldn’t be grossed out, it was way too cute of a sight for him to get mad.

Looking at her makes him feel tired, so he decides that taking a nap wouldn’t be a terrible idea. Careful to avoid waking her, he shifts around to get comfortable, hooking an arm around her so she doesn’t teeter backwards while he’s moving.

He thinks about whether he should turn her over and lay her on the blanket, unsure of what the proper protocol is.

His neck is gonna get super fucked up if he stays sat like this, so he very slowly gets up and lays on his bed, keeping her held to his chest until he’s flat enough to let gravity do the work. For a moment he returns to thinking about laying her on a flat surface but he lets her stay as she is, being a light sleeper means he’ll be able to deal with any problems if there are any.

-

After thanking Aizawa for the extra sparring lesson, you quickly get yourself showered and changed.

It’s been about two hours since you left her with Bakugou and you were getting increasingly worried he was reaching his limit.

Honestly you didn’t expect to be gone this long, but you were glad you gave him the estimate because it meant he’d have less reasons to be upset with you.

You prepare yourself for him to yell at you for leaving him alone with a demon for so long, even if she’s rarely a problem you do suspect he’ll be dramatic.

Still, it was a godsend that he said yes to begin with, you were going to make sure to tell him that.

When you get to his room you don’t bother with knocking, opening it to let yourself in without hesitation.

You were going to say something, but you forget the instant you lay eyes on the scene in front of you.

Practically swooning, you place a hand over your mouth to prevent making any noise, getting your phone out to document perhaps the cutest thing you’ve ever seen.

He’s laying on his bed, one arm over her and one over his eyes to block out the light, her tiny hands secured around the collar of his shirt, both of them peacefully asleep.

Not intending it to be blackmail but being aware it would probably become that, you take pictures from several different angles, wanting nothing more than to show everyone.

Though, for his own sake, you don’t actually send them anywhere near the class.

This doesn’t mean you don’t send them all to his mother, you do.

It does pain you to know you’ll have to hold off on showing people lest the information come back to him, but you do make it your phones home screen anyways. 

[ajaxwrites]

Genshin Impact Fanfic Rec List

(because this is my most current obsession~~)

The Narwhal of Dihua Marsh by GreyLiliy

Childe hears of a strong Adeptus living at the Wangshu Inn. Despite warnings from Zhongli that fighting Xiao would be a deathly mistake, Childe seeks out the Adeptus living in the Dihua Marsh eager for a proper fight.

However, Childe severely underestimates his opponent, and the consequences of his actions may keep him from returning home to Snezhnaya.

Ships: Zhongli/Childe

Notes: This fic is interesting primarily because it's not necessarily what you would call an easy story to read. The content can surprisingly get quite heavy as the relationship between Childe and Zhongli isn't healthy and it becomes increasingly obvious as the story progresses. You swing between wanting to separate the two and also desperately wishing that they'll work out because there is something there. The story snowballs from what seems like an innocuous, if stupid and rash, decision on Childe's part to a complicated mess that you can’t help but be enthralled in. I went in expecting your typical romance and ended up in something that was more complex than I expected but also beautifully thought provoking.

Entirely Out of Spite by Bgtea

"Welcome to a new user experience! You have triggered this interface with the keywords, ‘Stupid game! Stupid devs! I want my f*****g money back!’ You are now bound to the character Tartaglia, the Eleventh Harbinger of the Fatui, codename: Childe! We hope you have an enjoyable user experience and we welcome you once again to Genshin Impact 2.0!”

Those are some of the first words Ajax, starving college student extraordinaire, has the misfortune of hearing upon waking up in a brave new world from what he's fairly sure is a very, very fatal accident involving water and a shit ton of electricity.

Okay, so he's not dead. That's good. But what's this about him being stuck playing the character Tartaglia? Tartaglia, as in the shitty, one-dimensional, cartoonish villain who met his untimely, gruesome death in the first act of the original game?

Fuck that noise. Like hell Ajax is going to share that fate.

And so begins one man's journey to unfuck himself.

Ships: Zhongli/Childe

Notes: Whenever this updates, I squeal. If you’re a fan of The Scum Villain's Self-Saving System or just transmigration/reincarnation plots in general, you’re going to love it. Bgtea does a beautiful job in balancing humor with the trauma that comes with the whole reincarnation plotline. The whole of it is beautiful written and watching Childe/Ajax interact with the other characters (and the perspective of those characters) is a delight! 

the sister by glassdrachma

The tragic and unexpected death of Zhongli-xiansheng of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor occurred to the sorrow of many and the deep skepticism of a few.

Ships: Zhongli/Childe

Notes: glassdrachma has a gift for humor and romance. In short, Zhongli fakes his death for plot reasons and comes back as Jianlao, the bereaved twin sister. Shenanigans ensue, featuring overprotective Liyue-ians (?), chaotic gremlin Venti, and Kexing. Very light hearted, good for the soul.

The White Cicada Society by clementinesgulag

After his little brother is bundled back to Snezhnaya, Childe makes good on his promise to the traveller and takes the first boat out of Liyue Harbor. Any sense of homecoming lasts about as long as an uncooked steak in front of Xiangling, however, when his boat sinks, grounding him back in the mainland.

It's just as well, because the next morning, a body is found in the Northland Bank. A visit from a fellow Harbinger reveals a far more insidious plot than anything Childe could concoct with a god of the vortex and twenty minutes without supervision. The murders aren’t limited to the one Bank. They’ve been trailing down the Liyue border, getting closer and closer to the city. The Tsaritsa has a new mission for him: to figure out who, or what is targeting Fatui forces.

Against his best wishes, Childe is forced to see Zhongli again at the morgue. It becomes clear that he’s going to need a guide, and Childe resolves to quash his pride, and their differences to request his help to navigate Liyue and solve the case.

Ships: Zhongli/Childe

Notes: A diamond in the rough that I slept on and then stumbled back to by accident. I had it marked for later on AO3 and forgot about it for like a good week to my utter self-disgust. It. Is. So. Damn. Good! The mystery is intriguing but I live for the realistic portrayal of the aftermath of the whole gnosis plotline. The betrayal, the bitterness, but ah, the sexual tension. The harbinger interactions in this fic make it gold though.

Lungs full of Roses by SecretlyACatLady

Childe had always assumed that he would die young. He had accepted that a long time ago, ever since he accepted the mantle of a Fatui Harbinger. However, he always thought that he would die in a glorious fight, his body broken but spirit relishing the strong opponent that had bested him. He was okay with that type of death.

Unfortunately, it seemed like Fate had decided to add one last insult to injury, because, here Childe was, dying because he had fallen in love with the ex-Geo Archon. The same Archon who seemed to have discarded him like an old toy ever since the Osial Incident. --- In which divine beings are cruel and a cursed Childe starts preparing for his inevitable death because no Archon could ever love a mortal.

…Right?

Ships: Zhongli/Childe

Notes: The fic that started it all for me, the one that sucked me into the fandom. This fic is heartbreaking. We always do love a hanahaki plotline but something about the way it frames the disease and the shame that comes with it...I highly recommend giving it a read. The angst is real I tell you.

The Bride of The Golden Dragon by Erika_Bee

“You’re to be sent on a special mission, Tartaglia.”

The young man’s eyes gleamed in interest. “How special?” He asked as he wiped the blood off his daggers.

His superior grinned. “Special enough to put your name in Snezhnaya’s history books.”

—

In which the Archon War ravaged the land of Liyue and to ensure the people’s survival, the God of Geo established the Harvester Contract: One bride per village, every year, in exchange for protection and a good harvest.

Or: Childe is sent on an undercover mission to kill the Geo Archon, but things don’t go as planned.

Ships: Zhongli/Childe

Notes: Don’t let the title scare you off--this isn’t one of those fics where they feminize one of the male characters and reduce their personality to a mindless submissive bobblehead to the point that I want to throw my laptop out of the window. Not that there’s anything wrong if you like that kind of thing, just not my cup of tea. This fic though---READ IT! There’s just something refreshing about the writing and the plot, the way that Childe’s character reads off the page. I live for the interactions between the characters and how the author has mapped the relationships. Warning that recent chapters have swerved decided into NSFW territory though.

the brothers grim by izabellwit

Left in an unfamiliar land with a mission he never wanted, a young Kaeya lies, survives, and somehow finds a family in the process.

Or: How Kaeya came to Dawn Winery, and why he left it. Includes lore, sibling bickering, found family struggles, and a more in-depth look at the years between Kaeya’s arrival and Crepus’s death.

Ships: N/A

Notes: Ahh, little Kaeya. Cheeky ass little shit that’s too angsty and adorable for his own good. I don’t have words for this fic. It makes my heart warm but also makes me want to weep because god, this fic covers exactly how traumatic Kaeya’s situation is and why child soldiers/spies just shouldn’t be. And the dynamic he has with Diluc and Crepus--do me a favor and read it. Screams found family.

the wind through the mountain tops by glassdrachma

Boredom brings Barbatos of Mondstadt to bother a certain ex-Archon of the Earth.

Ships: Zhongli/Childe

Notes: A light-hearted, humorous and fluffy as hell piece. Short word is that Venti comes to Liyue for some fun, causes chaos, accidentally plays matchmaker, and steals some vegetables. A get-together fic for Childe and Zhongli that includes a surprisingly self-aware (if blunt and snarky) Zhongli and jealous Childe that gets increasingly flustered.

melt (speak or forever hold your peace) by anatakana

Falling into bed with Diluc was an unbelievably bad idea given their tumultuous shared history, but Kaeya’s impulsive urge to amuse himself knew no bounds.

It’s all fun and games until emotions got involved.

Ships: Diluc/Kaeya

Notes: THIS IS NSFW. With plot though? This is THE FIC that got me shipping the two (though the game did a good job on its own). The angst is real here and we love the sheer gal of both of these two stupid men.

Cascading (In a good way) by Hubbleablubble

Kaeya is a fascinating annoyance.

(Or: A series of events in which Albedo gets to know Kaeya, and they slowly go from strangers to acquaintances to something more.)

Ships: Albedo/Kaeya

Notes: Sweet fic. Not my typical ship pairing. Loved the Khaenri’ah mentions. Kaeya is Trans FTM here though it’s only briefly mentioned. There is also an incomplete sequel (as of May 2021) featuring an Overprotective Big Brother Diluc on a warpath giving shovel talks to everyone except apparently Albedo that’s also worth reading.

The Language of Flowers by Jules (Penwyn)

Kaeya Alberich has made a habit of lying—after all, the only truths he’s ever spoken cost him everything—but there are only so many lies a man can tell before the truth comes spilling out.

Ships: Diluc/Kaeya

Notes: Hanahaki! Except not! Basically, Kaeya pukes up flowers that say the truth whenever he lies. Cue, angst! Lovely and quick read--love Kaeya’s voice here.

i know i'm where i'm meant to go by paperclips (pastel_paperclips)

"Childe," Zhongli says suddenly. "I am enjoying myself greatly."

Childe’s face breaks into a grin. "Then-"

Zhongli gasps, grabbing his wrist and tugging him over to an unsuspecting peddler with a cart full of rocks. "Is that an intrusive igneous pegmatite formed in the Inazuma regions?"

Childe’s grin smooths into a small, adoring smile. He has all the time in the world to figure the other man out.

OR: Finding the Geo Archon is on Childe's to-do list but hanging out with Zhongli is significantly more fun.

Ships: Zhongli/Childe

Notes: Childe, you idiot. Humorous and funny, very light hearted. Makes you wonder if Childe has an IQ. He’s too busy pining/lovesick to realize that he told his target that he’s going to kill him for his gnosis. Zhongli and Liyue remain confused on how Childe still DOES NOT get it but half-ass hiding his Archon status anyway.

the bird without wings by Anonymous

"Kaeya!" someone yells. Small arms wrap around his waist tightly, red hair spilling out of the ponytail, and Kaeya's heart almost stops.

He's talked his way out of all types of situations. From placating international disputes to buttering up his informants, he's always had a quick response to everything.

But for once, Kaeya is speechless. He stares down at the boy with puffy cheeks, slightly crooked teeth and sparkling bright eyes.

Eight year old Diluc beams back.

Ships: Diluc/Kaeya

Notes: Diluc gets de-aged and Kaeya gets angsty. The interactions between the two are heartwarming and will induce tears. Childe makes a brief appearence that *chef’s kiss*

call me "lover boy" by Anonymous

Zhongli turns back, eyes bright with amusement, a stray lilypad still stuck in his hair, and Childe thinks, wow. I want to kiss him stupid.

Childe's not into the whole "swooning maiden patiently waiting for his beloved to swoop down and smooch the daylights out of him" thing. Nah, that's not his style. He's Tartaglia, eleventh of the Fatui harbingers, and he's going to kiss Zhongli right now.

Ships: Zhongli/Childe

Notes: FUNNY AS HELL. Childe is straight up just trying to plant one on Zhongli but fate and people just keep interfering. It’s a weird trope aversion where the character is actively trying to confess rather than avoiding it but life gets in the way. 

springtime in snezh-nya-ya by miaomaomei

Tartaglia’s body moves before he can even think about it. He arches his back and flattens his ears against his head, baring his teeth in a hiss. Considering he barely even reaches Scaramouche's knees — Scaramouche, of all people! The guy is practically the size of a fourteen-year-old — he doubts that he is cutting as imposing a figure as he hopes.

It isn't a surprise, though. No one could become a Fatui Harbinger if they were scared of a little cat.

OR

Tartaglia is turned into a cat and he goes to Zhongli for help. It goes about as well as expected.

Ships: Zhongli/Childe

Notes: TOO ADORABLE FOR WORDS. This is just pure fluff I swear. Love how Childe is written and the interactions between the two are just ahhhh. A balm on the soul.

Melt by tanktrilby

“My name is Diluc,” he says. A scowl naturally furrows his brow, and Kaeya looks like he wants to laugh.

He’s looking at him through his lashes again, blue eyes teasing and warm. “Diluc,” he says. “A knight in overalls isn’t quite where I thought my preferences would lie, but here we are.”

(or: Kaeya loses his memories and makes some assumptions. Diluc can't honestly tell him that he's wrong.)

Ships: Diluc/Kaeya

Notes: As the summary says, Kaeya loses his memories. Diluc plays babysitter for plot reasons. Meanwhile, Kaeya freaks out and has an essential crisis because his instincts freak him out which = angst. Simultaneously, sort of love confessions? 

you are cordially invited by ktenologious

When the Traveler receives a mysterious invitation from a Snezhnayan businessman, they seek out help from the only Snezhnayan they are on good terms with. They decide it is a wonderful idea to go to this business party in the middle of the ocean because, well, what could be better entertainment than watching a Fatui Harbinger at work? It is too bad Childe couldn't come with them...

Meanwhile, the Tsaritsa needs someone to track down the source of a brand new drug at a party on a cruise; it just so happens that she has two Harbingers who specialize in causing chaos and sinking ships. Scaramouche is a sadist and loves this, and Tartaglia... Well, Tartaglia just wants to know why is he the one in the dress again.

Ships: Zhongli/Childe, sort of Diluc/Kaeya & Scaramouche/Childe

Notes: Features a crossdressing Childe and Kaeya for plot reasons. Funny as hell. Love Fatui dynamics/interactions. Highly recommend. Go read it. I’m serious. It’s so beautiful, I can’t. Also Zhongli is so love-sick and jealous, it’s hilarious.

The Road to Snezhnaya by paranoid_fridge

Everything's done and over. Now, Zhongli only needs to adjust to living like an ordinary mortal. Or that is what he thinks until a familiar face shows up in Liyue. Teucer comes looking for his brother who failed to return to Snezhnaya on the Fatui ships. And as Childe's declared "friend", Zhongli must help Teucer find him.

Or: Teucer drags Zhongli on a cross-country goose chase looking for Childe. Zhongli just happens to find a bit more along the way.

Ships: Zhongli/Childe

Notes: I have no words for this fic outside of the fact that it is clear that Teucer has the only functioning brain and should be Best Man because he obviously did all the work here. Features an oblivious Childe and overprotective Zhongli, plus bystander Kaeya that is getting allll of the gossip. And also the most destructive group of children ever.

basket of knives by oronine

“I just want to be loved,” Childe says to himself, to whoever is listening. “Is that too much to ask?”

They are on the roof once more, this time Childe’s foot touches the edge of the building as he daydreams of something that cannot be. The sky is blank and cloudy and perhaps Lumine fears it’ll all end when he takes a step.

“Not at all,” she says. It’s still the truth.

Contrary to popular belief, Childe hates his family but loves them all the same.

Ships: Zhongli/Childe

Notes: TW for suicidal ideation, suicide attempt, self-harm, depression, etc. Not a light read by any definition. Set in a modern AU, not in the genshin impact universe. Features a Childe that is Not Okay, good friend but also probably traumatized friend Lumine (and her brother Aether), and Zhongli. Family dynamic is messed up as hell and explores mental health quite well in my opinion. I’m not sure how healthy necessarily Childe’s relationships are but I think that’s a given considering the context and how derailed his mental health is in this fic. Definitely angst as heavy, made me tear up quite a bit. Read, but pay attention to the content/trigger warnings as it does get quite explicit.

Bane of All Evil by tzitzimeme

When Chongyun unintentionally offends Liyue's second most powerful adepti, he vows to mend the thorny relationship between Adeptus Xiao and human exorcists-- even though no one has succeeded in currying Xiao's favor for over a thousand years.

His best friend Xingqiu offers to come alone, mainly because he's worried about what kind of trouble Chongyun will run into. Along the way, they receive help from others: Xiangling packs them meals for their journeys, while Zhongli gives them advice on what demons to track.

Childe is just there because he thinks the whole thing is hilarious.

Ships: Chongyun/Xinqiu

Notes: JFKLFJS I LOVE THIS. I love Chongyun’s characterization and the interaction between all the characters. The dynamic between Chongyun, Xingqiu, and Xiangling are to die for. Also, this line: “Stuck-up Persnickety Bastard.” Random note but Xiao throws Chongyun off a balcony yet is also 100% a softie.

Talks about Nothing by tzitzimeme

In which Zhongli unlocks the Memory of Dust, only to find out:

1. Guizhong is 100% alive (just disembodied) within it, 2. Guizhong has been watching over him this whole time, and 3. Guizhong is very excited by the prospect of Zhongli getting a cute Snezhnayan boyfriend.

Ships: Zhongli/Childe, Venti/Xiao

Notes: The pure judgment that Guizhong unleashes on Zhongli (as well as her sass in general) is pure comedic gold. The dynamic between Xiao and Venti are also adorable. Meanwhile, Childe misunderstands and also just wants to know what the fuck is going on.

xi wangmu by tzitzimeme

Xiangling scales entire mountains to satisfy the palettes of her two pickiest customers.

(Or, two men who are emotionally stunted by their own immortality inadvertantly turn an overly enthusiastic chef into their messenger pigeon.)

Ships: Zhongli/Xiao (?)

Notes: Not sure if it reads romantic exactly, can definitely be read as platonic. The fic boils down to Xiangling trying to expose Xiao to variety because just eating plain almond tofu is a no no. Zhongli gives advice/uses Xiangling as a messenger pigeon. Backstory is explored!

Falling (Fallen) by asinglecrow

It’s only when Childe finds himself in front of Zhongli, a spear protruding from his stomach, that he thinks oh I might have fucked up.

Or: The worst (best) day of Childe's life.

Ships: Zhongli/Childe

Notes: Funny and lighthearted! Gets sort of NSFW with passing mention of mpreg but otherwise, it’s just pure humor/fluff. Get-together fic featuring deadpan dragon Zhongli and Childe that is just done with everything. 

the louvre by morisuke

Here in Liyue, the air is filled with the ocean, and the sun shines through the mountains like it’s flowing through a crack in the sky. Here in Liyue, there is a man with no wallet at a vending machine that is going to waste the rest of his day showing a stranger around their school campus for a pocket sized can of iced coffee.

It’s interesting here in Liyue, Childe thinks.

or

Where Childe flirts with a stranger at a campus vending machine.

Ships: Zhongli/Childe

Notes: Set in a modern/college AU. This is a relatively quiet, soft kind of story. Childe comes to Liyue because reasons and falls in love quietly. It’s more of a snippet of life type of fic that’s sweet and peaceful. Love the change that comes over Childe as he finds a home.

[roanniom]

hi pal can I request the reader showing sackler how to take things a little more slow and sensual in the bedroom (possibly ft some sub!sackler bc yum) dialogue line: 'easy tiger'

Hey buddy, yes – let’s teach our cutie sub!Sackler a lesson. (p.s., sorry to you and everyone else who requested stuff - I’m getting around to all of these, I swear lol)

Sweet

Adam Sackler x Reader

Word Count: 4,291

Warnings: NSFW, dirty talk, mutual masturbation, PIV sex, light light light dom/sub, mentions of food, shitty day angst

You love riding Sackler. It’s a fact and you aren’t shy about it. The way he feels beneath you – hard and wound out so tight, just a second from breaking – makes you feel like a goddess. You love messing with him and bossing him around, too. The way his eyes widen and his lip quivers as he thinks up a taunting reply or considers the reward that might come if he is good and acquiesces instead. You love rewarding and punishing him equally.

Sackler takes punishment better than any man you’d ever been with. While most men play along for a while, it’s been your experience that many tire eventually. Not Sackler. Sure, he’s a brat about it, but that’s exactly what you love. How receptive he is. No matter what you do, your Sackler reacts and it makes your heart and pussy clench in equal measure.

But every once in a while, riding Sackler isn’t what you’re in the mood for. Today is one of those days. It’s been a long one, full of meetings and paperwork and all the things that make your teeth set on edge by the time you climb up from the subway, up from the street, and up to your fifth floor walkup. When you reach the knob to open the door, it turns in your hand and moves inward without any effort on your part. The door pulls back to reveal Adam, standing with a huge grin on his face and a steaming mug which is promptly pushed into your free hand.

“Fucking finally! I’ve been waiting for you to get home.” A kiss is pressed hurriedly to your lips and your bags are pulled off of your shoulders. The whirlwind of motion and activity almost make you dizzy and you laugh. Despite your shit day and despite yourself.

“What’s all this?” you ask, gesturing the scene that his wall of a body, now moved aside to stow your bags, has revealed. The table is set for two, with flowers and a fucking lit candle in the center. Two stemmed glasses sit beside a sweating bottle of sparkling grape juice. Adam steps back into view, his grin even wider.

“Ray and I were fucking around at the café and I came across this recipe in a magazine -” he begins, but you cut him off.

“I can’t picture you flipping through a magazine.” He flips you off and continues.

“Well anyway, Ray said it was too delicate and I’d never be able to make it because I’m a fucking ox in a china shop and I was like the saying is ‘bull in a china shop you dickweed’ and then we wrestled a bit and scared his customers away which was pretty fucking hilarious -”

You grab Sackler’s chin to stop his manic rambling.

“The food, Sackler.”

“Well I was getting to that! So I said fuck you, ripped the recipe out, went to the store, and now nine hours and three cut fingers later we have this fucking feast!”

Sackler claps his hands together before gesturing grandly to the table. With the gesticulation you’re able to see the three aforementioned fingers swathed in shoddily placed bandages. You grab his non-damaged hand and lift up on your tiptoes. He gets the message, bending down to press his lips to yours again. He closes his eyes to savor the kiss, but as you back away yours dart over his figure and you let out another laugh.

“Sackler, is that my apron?”

~*~

It turns out bulls in china shops can, indeed, cook delicate dishes. The food is really good. Annoyingly good. Proving again, for the umpteenth time, that your tornado of a boyfriend can be good at things when he focuses all of his boundless energy on one thing.

“You shouldn’t have done this, you know.” You smile at him over the rim of your glass of sparkling juice, the remains of your meal littering the table before you. Sackler watches you, full and self-satisfied, shaking his head.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m never going to accept a shitty takeout meal again now that you’ve fed me this well.”

Sackler sits up straighter and leans over, reaching his hand between your thighs. Your legs open instinctively, without any effort from your brain, but as you lurch forward and metal scrapes against wood, you realize he’s grabbed your chair and is pulling you closer to him.

“It was really that good, wasn’t it.” His smile is ear to ear. You laugh at his smugness.

“Do I need to lick my plate to convince you? Because I will.” You drag a finger through the last bit of sauce on your plate and move to bring it to your mouth. Before you can, however, Adam grabs your wrist and reroutes it to his mouth. His lips close over your finger, tongue lapping up the sauce before it can drip down into your palm. He maintains direct, blazing eye contact the entire time and your stomach swoops. After a moment a sucking, Adam releases your finger with a pop, biting the tip playfully before dropping your hand back to your lap.

“Fuck I’m talented.”

The chuckle you release is a tad too breathless for your liking. It really has been a hard day, and Adam’s attention is getting to you quicker and more than usual. He can see it in your eyes and in the incremental quickening of the rise and fall of your chest.

“Yep. You’re fucking talented,” is all you’re able to muster, biting your lip.

The large hand that had pulled you closer to him has spent this whole time gripping your chair in the space between your legs. Now it slides to smooth over your thigh. His hand is hot enough you can feel the heat radiating beneath your pants. Despite the warmth you shiver.

Adam notices and pulls back his hand so that only his index finger remains in contact with your leg. His index finger which he drags up your inner thigh only to run it up and down the line of the pants seam at the apex of your thighs.

“A little needy tonight, are we babe?”

This is exactly what you need to loosen up so you grab his wrist. He stiffens immediately, assuming he’s done something wrong. But instead you pull him closer to close his whole hand around your clothed cunt, pushing up and down on his hand to provide a wider surface area of warmth and friction.

“A lot needy tonight…babe,” you correct him.

~*~

When you migrate to the bedroom, Sackler is on you like an animal. This is his usual modus operandi – he does everything he possibly can to trigger your reprimands, your slaps, your warnings. It’s partly to see what he can get away with before you tighten the leash (metaphorical but sometimes literal) and partly because seeing you riled up turns him on so much.

Right now he’s got you bent over the bed, cheek smashed to the mattress, legs spread, ass out, as he grips and pinches and squeezes the curves of your body.

“I’ve been thinking of you all fuuuhhking day, baby.” His voice is gruff to go along with the handfuls he grabs of your ass.

“I thought you were thinking about food all day,” you manage to tease, despite the fact that his hands feel like heaven.

“Yeah but like when I went shopping for example.” He flips you over then and you squeal in surprise. Your back hits the bed but your legs remain dangling off. Adam steps between them and drops the weight of his whole upper body on you, effectively smothering you. “I just kept wishing you were there with me.”

Your stomach flips and your heart flutters, not expecting that sweet a statement. You also register your cunt getting wetter.

Oh.

So that’s the mood you’re in.

“You wished I was there?” you ask quietly.

“Of course,” Adam replies, tucking some of your hair gently behind your ear. “I imagined fucking you up against the inside of the freezer section so we could leave obscene handprints on the doors and freak people out.”

You whack him in the head in response, which is exactly what he’s going for. He picks you up and throws you unceremoniously more fully on the bed before climbing on as well and crawling up the length of your body.

“You’re an asshole, Adam.”

“I thought that was your favorite part about me.” He waggles his eyebrows at you. Out of spite – and lust – you reach between you and grab his dick through his jeans.

“No, this is my favorite part about you.”

Adam throws his body to the side, locking his arms around you in a roll that roughly brings you to rest on his chest while his back hits the bed.

“Now you’re talking, baby.” His mouth latches hungrily to your neck and his hands take forceful hold of your breasts. Beneath you Sackler begins rolling his hips, thrusting his hardening cock up into your pelvic area.

The aggression and the friction feel good, you can’t lie. But you can’t ignore the nagging feeling of disappointment lingering right at the corner of your mind.

“Adam,” you prompt. He doesn’t pause in his ministrations. He’s still playing the game. At this point you’re usually just getting started and, being the brat he is, he never actually listens to you this early. It would ruin his fun. No, instead Adam continues to nibble at your collar bone and untuck your shirt.

“Adam – slow down, please.”

The please comes out muffled because it occurs right as he tries to pull your shirt over your head, effectively covering your face.

“Are you trying to say something?” Adam asks with a chuckle, purposefully keeping the shirt tangled up in your arms and swathed over your head. “I can’t hear you.”

You wrestle your way out of his grip and the shirt straight jacket he’d fashioned, irritated but unable to suppress your own laugh.

“That’s not funny, asshole.”

“Again with the asshole.” Adam rises up to a sitting position with you still straddling him, moving to place soft kisses on your now-exposed chest. “Might I point out that you are laughing. I would argue that means it is funny.”

Adam deftly unhooks your bra and continues to drop open mouth kisses on a path that leads him up your throat. His softer actions cause you to roll your hips lightly, your eyes closing with the mounting satisfaction.

“Mmm haven’t I already taught you that you shouldn’t argue with me? You’ll never win,” you reply quietly, tone of voice matching the softness and heat that’s building between your bodies.

In quite a juxtaposition, Sackler growls and bucks roughly up into you, a motion you’re not prepared for and one which throws you off balance.

“We’ll see who wins, baby.” His mouth descends on you and it’s like he’s trying to suck your very soul between his lips. Like he wants to swallow you whole and usually? Usually this kind of thing would rev your engine and make you want to fight for control. But today your body is craving something different.

And you’re not about to deny it what it wants.

You press your palms down on Sackler’s chest, pushing down and pulling back with enough pressure that he finally releases your lips. His chest heaves up and down and he moves to kiss you elsewhere but you grab his jaw.

“Easy tiger. Easy.” Your fingers curl down and around his throat delicately. You’re not squeezing and you’re not gripping, but his eyes are wide and fixed on you. You hold him down with your gaze as much as your hand and, without breaking eye contact, you lower yourself slowly, slowly, slowly, to press a kiss to his flushed lips.

“We’re going to take things slower tonight.”

“Slower? But why!” Sackler moves to sit up again, but you push him back down, this time more firmly.

“Because I say so,” you answer bluntly. Sackler goes to talk back, defiance dancing in his eyes, but you speak up before he can interject.

“Because I need this.”

Your assertive tone comes out less firm and more genuine this time, allowing some of your vulnerability leak through despite your intentions. You watch Adam react, however, and you’re pleased to see his eyes soften.

“What do you want me to do, baby? Tell me.”

You mull this over from your perch above him, straddling his hips and looking down at his still clothed body. Swinging your leg up and over, you dismount him, much to Adam’s displeasure, as expressed with a groan. You, however, stand resolutely at the side of the bed and fold your arms.

“I’d like you to get up and take every piece of clothing off – slowly.”

“You mean like a strip tease?” he asks with a crooked grin, lumbering off the bed. You hop back on and settle down so that your back is now reclining against the pillows comfortably.

“You don’t have to make it sound so crass but sure. Like a strip tease.”

Adam takes a cheesy bow before pulling his shirt of by the back collar.

“Woah woah woah, I said slowly, mister.”

Adam huffs in agitation but does as you ask, dropping the collar and lifting the front hem of his shirt inch by inch, slowly exposing the abdominal muscles which, let’s face it, make you want to drool. You eye him like a piece of meat and without a trace of shame as he finally discards the garment.

“I hope you’re enjoying this,” he grumbles, but you see the amusement in his eyes.

“Oh I am, baby. Trust me.”

The show continues until his boxers ultimately join the pile that has accumulated at his feet. The slow clap you give him as you eye his stiff cock makes him let out a strained laugh.

“Now you,” he says through gritted teeth. You can tell he wants to stroke his cock, but you haven’t told him he can yet. And since you’ve changed the game on him, he feels less comfortable bending the rules.

“Can you come over and take my clothes off for me?” you ask through hooded eyes. He clambers onto the bed and you touch his shoulder as a reminder. “Slowly.”

Adam nods and reaches to unbutton your pants before pulling them slowly down your legs, hooking his fingers beneath your panties to bring them along, too. Having already been divested of your shirt and bra, the job is short and sweet.

You crook your finger in a come hither motion toward him, ushering him to move up to you, which he does. You settle deeper down into the pillows and he hovers above you, uncertain.

“What now?”

You pull him down by the back of the neck into a kiss. Your tongue encourages his to move, which it does. He takes his cues from you and the kiss morphs from sweet to sensual. When a strangled groan bubbles in the back of his throat you push him to sit up in order to bring things back down to the pace you’d worked so hard to establish.

“Now, I’d like you to drag two fingers through my cunt. Get them nice and wet.”

Adam inhales sharply and moves his arm quickly at first before catching himself and bringing his hand calmly between your legs. You let them fall open and sigh happily at the feeling of his fingers running up and down your dripping slit.

“You’re so wet and we’ve barely done anything,” Adam comments, awed.

“That’s how bad I want you like this.”

“Baby…” Adam practically whines. You can see his muscles tensing as his patience wears thinner.

“I know, honey,” you purr. “Now I want you to take your hand and stroke your big, fat cock for me.”

Adam inhales sharply again, but he doesn’t forget this time. This time his hand drags slowly from your cunt, trailing your slick over your thigh and up onto his in a path to his own cock, which he smears with the remaining juice.

“Oh fuck, I can’t take it slow for much longer.”

“Yes. You can.” You tease your own nipple now as you watch Adam’s hand close around the glistening, throbbing head. His muscles ripple beneath the skin of his abdomen and your cunt clenches.

“I saw that.”

Your wrench your eyes away from his cock to meet his eyes.

“Saw what?”

“Saw your little pussy squeeze around nothing.”

“Yes, it did.” You’re not about to deny it. Instead, you move the hand not playing with your nipple so that it comes to rest on your mound, fingers dipping down to feel your own wetness.

“Holy shit.”

His cock twitches in his hand and he comes to lean lower over you, bracing himself with one hand against the mattress next to your body as he picks up the pace on his cock. The shuck shuck shuck sound of his fist passing over his length makes your breath quicken and you push two fingers inside you, placing your thumb on your clit and beginning a rhythm of tight circles.

“Oh god, do you hear that?” Adam moans as your cunt begins making squelching sounds with your efforts. “That’s your little pussy telling me it needs me.”

“Mmm it talks to you?” you ask, trying not to think of how ridiculous this is and lose your concentration too much.

“Yes. It’s saying your fingers are two fucking small. It needs to be stuffed. With my fingers, with my cock -”

“Adam.” You interrupt him abruptly by grabbing the back of his neck and forcing him to look you in the eyes. He zips up and waits for you to say something but you don’t. Instead you maintain the eye contact and continue move your fingers in and out of your cunt. Though you won’t agree with him right now, Adam’s right. Your fingers are too small. But the in and out motion, combined with the pressure you are putting on your clit, combined with the way the bed shakes with the effort Adam is taking to jerk himself slowly but strongly, combined with the way he is now devouring you with his eyes – it all still feels pretty fucking good.

Adam’s breath becomes more ragged and the sound makes you let out an involuntary moan. Fuck you love hearing him react. You decide you might as well let him know. It’s already the tone of the evening.

“I love hearing you.”

“I was just about to say the fucking same about you. You’re the one who just moaned, though,” Adam says, letting out a breathless chuckle.

“Yeah but I like it all. I like when your breathing is all ragged like right now. I love it when you groan and growl. When you moan and it sounds like it’s coming from deep inside of you.”

“Fuck, baby,” he grunts, and you laugh.

“I like it when you curse, too. I love that filth spills from your brain and you don’t bother – oh! You don’t bother stopping it from falling out of your mouth.”

“You’re the inspiration for the filth, kid, I can’t take all the credit.”

You feel your heart stutter in your chest then and you drag your finger over your clit slower. Harder.

“I like it when you call me kid. You haven’t called me that in a while.”

“Oh fuck, I’m sorry, kid,” Adam’s face scrunches and you’re not sure if it’s out of guilt or because of the way his hand his now wringing his cock, twisting at the end of each stroke in a sad rendition of the technique you use when you jerk him off. “I didn’t know you liked it so much.”

“I do.”

“I’ll call you that more often.”

“Good.”

You both are breathing heavily now, a light layer of sweat covering skin that aches to be touched by the other. Your eyelids flutter and you try to keep your sight focused on Adam’s face. You’re feeling your inhibitions leave you as the pressure inside your core mounts, loosened up by the warmth of his breath on your cheeks and the way you’re speaking so openly to him. You decide you might as well continue.

“I also like it when you’re sweet to me.”

Adam falters at that, his hand coming to an abrupt stop on his cock. He blinks down at you.

“I am sweet to you.”

His voice sounds hurt and you bristle, wanting to take the words back.

“You are sweet to me. You are, Adam,” you reassure, grasping his arm. He remains still, watching you. You feel weird continuing to finger yourself, but your so close you are afraid to lose your momentum. “You’re always everything I want. And most times I want to be thrown around and I want to yell and stuff. It’s just sometimes…”

You trail off, but you don’t need to continue because Adam is kissing you. A slow, deep kiss. Lips moving against lips, tongue moving against tongue. His hands find your face and hold you softly, keeping you against him, leaving his cock to bob freely against your stomach. Your fingers abandon your cunt as well and you wrap around Adam, arms and legs both, pulling him down into you.

When Adam finally pulls back, his face no longer looks hurt.

“I can be whatever you want. Let me be what you want.” He kisses your forehead, then the tip of your nose, then the curve of your jaw.

“I want you inside of me,” you finally admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

When he slides in, you don’t have to remind him to go slow. You moan about your walls stretching and he moans about the way you squeeze so tightly around his cock. Your sounds spur each other on and you rock against him, urging him to move.

He pulls out so far that only the tip remains nestled just inside your entrance. When he pushes back in, it feels like he’s pushing in for the first time of the night again. Your walls stretch to accommodate him and you clench instinctively around his length. The process repeats itself, over, and over, until you’re pretty much completely unraveled beneath him.

All the while Adam rains soft kisses on your face, neck, and breasts. Without a chaotic rhythm of thrusts to keep up with, he has the attention span to shower you with even more affection. The hoarse whispers in your ear are by far your favorite:

“You’re so fucking beautiful.”

“You feel so good, you take me so well it doesn’t make fucking sense.”

“Fuck, did you feel that? How tight you’re gripping my cock baby?”

“That’s it, yes make those fucking gorgeous sounds for me.”

It’s not exactly textbook “sweet,” but it’s Adam and it’s what you need. It’s Adam giving you what you need.

You reach down at some point to rub your clit, working yourself up to the edge, but Adam pulls your hand away so his can replace it.

“Not on my fucking watch,” he mutters gruffly. A laugh bubbles in your throat but it bursts into a moan as the dam breaks and you fall apart, crying out his name over and over in the process.

“Yes, baby, yes. Ride it out – fuck you’re hot when you cum.”

You fight to catch your breath and you gaze back up at Adam through the stars in your eyes. The resulting effect makes him both blurry and sparkly in your vision and your muscles continue to contract around his massive cock, which he’s been kind enough to keep stuffed inside you for you to lock onto.

As your muscles begin to relax you blink away the stars and allow a smile of the deepest, most well-fucked satisfaction to slide across your face. Adam watches and his smile matches, though there is still some tightness in his features due to the fact that he is still achingly hard.

“Adam, that was…” you try to catch your breath. “That was…thanks. I needed that.”

When Adam meets your lips for a kiss, however, you yank tightly on the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Now I want you to take what you need,” you say louder. “I want you to cum.”

With your permission, Adam doesn’t need more than a second to switch gears. He lifts your legs straight into the air against his shoulders, bending you into a right angle that becomes more and more acute with each passing second. His cock pounds in and out of your dripping pussy, your slick sliding between your thighs and making the fucking smooth and wet and oh so fucking good for him.

“I still like being sweet to you,” he says through gritted teeth, his thrusting becoming more erratic.

“I know you do, baby,” you hiccup out.

“But fuck! Do I love pounding this pussy.”

You laugh and he cums. All over you. He pulls out, dropping your legs down, and it spurts hot over your stomach and tits. It’s messy but he’s satisfied and you’re satisfied and fuck it, that’s what towels are for.

Once he’s gotten you nice and wiped up again, Adam pulls you to him in the bed, wrapping his arms around you tightly and giving you no room to move away. Not that you’d want to move. Why would you when you can lay here in this bed, tangled up in the man that wrung pleasure from your body and laughter from your lips.

~*~

Tagging some lovely people (please let me know if you’d like to be tagged or untagged in future work!): @mariesackler @direnightshade @safarigirlsp @sacklerscumrag @paper-in-ashes-fanfiction @historyandfandoms50 @clydesfavoritegirl @wayward-rose @hopeamarsu @thegreenmatt @barbers-glimmerin-darlin @finn-ray-nal-beads @fizzywoohoo @maybe-your-left @aliveandlonely 

[yellowocaballero]

Human Relations Snippet: Jon and Sasha versus Bad Telenovelas

This is a birthday request from @hihereami who wanted something very Latin American and an excuse to show me her favorite shows. This takes place in early Season 3, before Jude Perry but with Sasha working at the office. Jon fudged some stuff. It features incredibly stupid office dynamics, bad relationships, and a shared history that produced two very different people. Happy birthday, Ami!

CW as usual for Human Relations: explicitly discussed transphobia, references to 19th century racism, and a depiction of a platonic abusive relationship. 

Sasha now understood that she was talking to an expert. 

“Fine,” she said grudgingly, gathering the papers back up. She left out her great outline and timetable, though, because Martin should definitely appreciate it. “But the number one rule here is to keep up an active support system, right? Which means Jon needs more than just you.” Martin gave her a hilariously prissy look, which she responded with an equally prissy one. “He thinks we have a psychic bond or something.” They did but Sasha didn’t want to admit that. “Look, I’ve been harassing Jon for months about how shitty Jonah is. But if he’s going to listen to me, he needs to know that...I guess that I care about him more than I hate Jonah. That I’m not doing it out of spite or with some ulterior motive to get something out of him.”

Martin closed the manila folder, carefully attaching a label on it and writing down their coded filing system on the tab. “You don’t care about him more than you hate Jonah. You are doing this with ulterior motives. But it would be pretty hypocritical of me to care about that, so...he likes television? And he likes hearing about your life and the things important to you. He’s like this historical, cultural, political, anthropological sponge. I mean, he knows everything about everything, but it’s his passion. So if you want to combine the two…”

And, of course, once Martin said that then the answer was obvious.

Sasha liked to be the smartest person in the room.

The problem with people like Sasha was that, very frequently, they were the smartest person in the room. For seventeen years of her life Sasha had been remarkably and thoroughly assured that she would go places, she was really going to make all of us proud, she’s going to take care of us in our old age, Mrs. Pérez’s son just wastes every day with his girlfriend but here you are, studying all day with your complete lack of friends! 

Once she skipped town - well, town, country, Americas, oceans - all of that had been replaced with shiny grades and the bragging rights of Oxford and the implicit looming pressure of her scholarship. Sasha had always been the smartest person in the room. She couldn’t afford anything else - not if she wanted someone to care, not if she wanted to get anywhere in life. 

Every adult was somewhat of a child inside: happily ignoring a toy until it was taken away, at which point they would scream and scream. And when Sasha didn’t feel like the smartest person in the room - or, worse, others didn’t see her as the smartest person in the room - there was nothing tolerable about it. 

Upon retrospect, workplace and academic discrimination, in addition to some healthy insecurity, bothered her so much that she sold her soul to the devil about it, but apparently this was an semi-common occurrence. Abuela had been right. Teach Sasha to doubt her again. 

Mrs. Pérez’s son probably hadn’t accidentally sold his soul to the devil. He and his girlfriend were probably happy with their hard working but low-paying jobs, their cute little smattering of babies, and their mass every week. They’d have long, happy lives, and the amount of life-or-death situations they were put in were probably no more than usual. 

Well. Sasha would literally rather die than do that, and that resolve had been tested very thoroughly. She stood by it. Sasha had never regretted a decision she made in her life, besides the ones that sold her soul to the devil, and also maybe some things about Tim. But most of her decisions were good. And even if they weren’t good, she stubbornly stood by them.  

That’s why this was difficult. For all of Sasha’s insecurity reasons that, to be fair, had mostly drifted into the background of her life while she had been on the run for murder. And because it was Martin. 

“Sasha, I’m not sure what help I can give you.”

Godfuckingdammit.

“Please?” Sasha slid into the seat across from Martin, giving him her best big cow eyes. “Don’t hog the emotional manipulation. You’re the expert in making Jon do what you want, just...work your magic!”

Martin looked up from the statement he was organizing shot Sasha an extremely flat look. Martin was extremely good at looking extremely unimpressed. “Because I’m the one who can magically make people do what I want.” 

Sasha winced. “At least you didn’t sell your soul to a demon about it?”

“I know you tell yourself a lot of people do that to make yourself feel better about doing it, but literally nobody does that.” At Sasha’s double wince, Martin sighed. “Don’t listen to Jonah. You didn’t do anything a normal, non-satanic person wouldn’t do. If I could…” Martin trailed off slightly, staring a little in the distance, before shaking back to himself. “I’m not helping you manipulate Jon. That’s my place in this ecosystem.”

“Then we should team up,” Sasha wheedled. She reached into her briefcase - which nowadays contained little more than alcohol and Statements, she wasn’t sure that Georgie had been a good influence on her - and yanked out the print-outs before slapping it on the table. “See, I did research!”

Martin slid the papers closer to him, leafing through them quickly. Sasha waited for him to look very impressed and appreciative of how socially competent yet intellectual she was, but he didn’t look very impressed at all. “ “Help someone in an Abusive or Controlling relationship”, ‘3 ways to support someone stuck in a controlling relationship’, ‘How can I help someone in a toxic relationship’...”

“You aren’t going to deny it, are you?” Sasha asked heatedly. “Because Tim just does not get what I mean no matter how many leaflets I show him because he ‘framed me for murder’ or whatever -”

“Do not pretend as if you’re forgiven him for the murder thing.”

“I fucking hate his guts over it. I will never, ever forgive either of them.” Sasha’s heart spiked in her chest, and she forced herself to take a few calming breaths. “This is a problem. Jon and Jonah are a problem. I don’t think we’re in a position to take on Jonah right now - even if I am working on it. But Jon is a weak link here. We know he’s impossible to kill -” At Martin’s extremely alarmed look, Sasha quickly elaborated, “ - and I wouldn’t want to, although he would really technically deserve it with all of his human rights violations. It would be far easier, and a better use of our resources, if we got Jon to our side. Then hopefully those two could...blow each other up, or something.”

Martin stared at her, expression implacable. Sasha became abruptly aware that she had just threatened to blow up this guy’s semi-boyfriend, and resisted the urge to apologize. She wasn’t apologetic. This was what she had to do, and Sasha always did what had to be done. It didn’t matter if she hated Jon so much that she wanted him dead, when he would be more useful to her alive. It doesn’t matter if she knew that, deep down, Jon was an exceptionally kind and caring person who loved very deeply, and that who he was now was a product of a great deal of influences mostly out of his control. If he was who Sasha was going to turn into, given enough time. 

She would stick to the plan. Sasha was going to get herself and her Assistants - including Melanie now, for some reason, who still refused to believe them about the psychic vampire thing despite how many times Jon confessed to it - out of this. 

Finally, Martin said, “I’m not going to deny it, Sasha. I’ve printed out all those guides, I’ve read all of the books, I’ve done everything. I’ve been working on this since - I think since I decided that I loved Jon more than I hated him. I’ve got Jon’s trust. And, way more importantly, Jonah is convinced that I’m harmless. He doesn’t pay any attention to me. I think he, like, secretly hates it whenever Jon has someone - whatever. But he is obsessed with everything you do.” At Sasha’s disturbed look, Martin shrugged. “He micromanages. Jon complains about it. I don’t think Jon gets that he really spills the cards on all of Jonah’s plans when he gets drunk and bitches about him.”

Sasha now understood that she was talking to an expert. 

“Fine,” she said grudgingly, gathering the papers back up. She left out her great outline and timetable, though, because Martin should definitely appreciate it. “But the number one rule here is to keep up an active support system, right? Which means he needs more than just you.” Martin gave her a hilariously prissy look, which she responded with an equally prissy one. “He thinks we have a psychic bond or something.” They did but Sasha didn’t want to admit that. “Look, I’ve been harassing him for months about how shitty Jonah is. But if he’s going to listen to me, he needs to know that...I guess that I care about him more than I hate Jonah. That I’m not doing it out of spite or with some ulterior motive to get something out of him.”

Martin closed the manila folder, carefully attaching a label on it and writing down their coded filing system on the tab. “You don’t care about him more than you hate Jonah. You are doing this with ulterior motives. But it would be pretty hypocritical of me to care about that, so...he likes television? And he likes hearing about your life and the things important to you. He’s like this historical, cultural, political, anthropological sponge. I mean, he knows everything about everything, but it’s his passion. So if you want to combine the two…”

And, of course, once Martin said that then the answer was obvious.

*******

Sasha was now willing to admit that Martin was smarter than she was.

It was always kind of a crapshoot when looking for Jon. He was only around the Institute half the time, probably less, and he refused to buy a cell phone so anybody could stay in contact with him. Tim had also flatly refused, because Jon would inevitably go to him for help with figuring it out, and apparently that could take hours. Sasha had volunteered to help Jon with accessing some online archives, and apparently she had explained it so confusingly that Jon was left refusing to touch a computer for a month. 

The farthest they could go was convincing him to take a Jitterbug for emergencies. Tim had taken great pains to explain the LifeAlert function, to Jon’s increasing lack of amusement. When Sasha had explained the adventure to Georgie, a known social media sensation over wine at their weekly girls night, she had found it hilarious and was very impressed. 

“Jon must be really attached to you guys,” Georgie had said, carefully nibbling at her luxury chocolate. Girl’s nights with Georgie were decadent. “I mean, not that he doesn’t talk about all of you nonstop, but he can spend ten years incorporating the Beholding into every piece of technology in the country while willfully refusing to learn how to work a computer.”

Sasha hadn’t missed Georgie’s word choice - deliberately refusing instead of an incapability to learn - but something else in the sentence was stranger to her. “I thought he was all about all kinds of knowledge.”

“I hear that the future can be terrifying for a lot of people,” Georgie had said wisely. “No matter how much of it they experience.”

“Is it terrifying for you?”

“Goodness, no.” Georgie had flashed her a bright grin - not so much a showing of teeth as it was a peek at a bone-white skeleton. “I always know what the future holds.”

 As it stood, Sasha got lucky today. She wasn’t forced to make Jon use his dreaded phone, and as a result she wasn’t forced to understand what the fuck Jon did all day. He was in the Magnus Institute, and when Jon was in the Institute there were three places he could be. 

The Archives, which Sasha had just come from. The Institute Library, occasionally terrifying the graduate students and more frequently helping them write their papers. Sasha had heard that they had communally begun sacrificing one grad student to his hunger per week in exchange for study sessions. Which...she should discourage...whatever, it was probably ethical. Or, at the very least, voluntary. 

The only other location Jon visited was Magnus’ office, where he could spend hours relaxing on the evil little bastard’s couch and annoying him. That was a last resort scenario, and was usually saved for complete and total emergencies.

Thankfully, today, Sasha found Jon in the ‘D’s. He was lying on his back, legs propped up on the bookshelf across from him, reading what looked like a very fascinating philosophy text regarding humanity’s search for aliens that Sasha silently resolved to borrow from him later. He didn’t look up when Sasha approached, so she carefully tipped a book off the shelf above him to fall on his head.

He yelped, dropping his book and sitting upright. He rubbed at his head, scowling, and Sasha saw that he had restyled his hair since the last time she had seen him. It had been growing long, but instead of cutting it and returning to his short twists styled into a loose curtain over his forehead he had pulled it back into a puffy bun. It was...somewhat more fashion forward than Sasha had ever seen from him. He had swapped his greatcoat for a primmer and shorter pea coat. Even his glasses were now thin-rimmed, circular, and kind of stylish. 

“Oh my god,” Sasha said, “has Martin started dressing you?”

“Martin can barely even dress himself,” Jon said automatically. “It was Georgie. She said I have to ‘clean up nice’ if I ever ‘want a man’. What does any of that mean?”

“Isn’t it kind of weird that your wife is setting you up with someone?”

“The concept of monogamy becomes ridiculous after the first eighty years,” Jon said, also automatically. Then Sasha’s words sunk into his brain, and he flushed. “Georgie and I aren’t together right now! And she’s not setting me up with - how can you even consider - what makes you think I’m a homosexual -”

Sasha stared at him flatly. Jon gave up. 

“Just let me know if I need to explain gay shit to you,” Sasha said. “It’ll cost a hundred pounds for me to explain queerness and three hundred if you want to learn about trans issues. Recompense for my emotional labor.”

“Young people think they invented these things. It’s ridiculous.” Jon stored the book back on the bookshelf behind him without looking, before carefully dropping his feet and rolling up. Sasha’s back ached in sympathy. Some people got all of the demon deal luck. “What does Martin say? ‘People are gay, Steven’? Historical figures are gay and trans, Sasha.”

“...are you a historical figure that’s -”

“I apologize for being a cisgender man that’s ruined your life, yes.” Jon arched an eyebrow at her as Sasha spent a second in confused agony over whether or not she was getting through to this guy. “I assume there’s no emergency, considering this conversation, so why are you here?”

There was no way to make this offer sound genuine. Jon would look for the catch - because there was one - or what she was trying to pull. There was something she was trying to pull, but she wasn’t about to admit it. 

In the end, Sasha settled for a fragment of honesty in her heart. Jon always had a way of drawing that out of people. 

“I haven’t watched my telenovelas in years. And I don’t know anybody else who speaks Spanish, and so much of it doesn’t translate that I refuse to watch it subbed with someone else, and they’re something I used to watch every night but now I haven’t seen them in years. And you speak Spanish. So.”

Jon stared at her, blinking owlishly, before his mouth twitched into a small smile. It flowered, moving from a hesitant movement of the lips into a real, close-lipped smile that sent his usually severe and sharp expression into something resembling excitement. Understated enthusiasm over novelty. 

How weird, Sasha thought. That you could be 200 years old and still find excitement over something novel. Over something new. Or, maybe, over someone choosing to trust you with a part of their lives. 

Or maybe it wasn’t that weird. How could someone keep living for that long if something as simple as this didn’t bring you joy? Sasha was only thirty four and she already felt so tired of life, all the time. Either tired or overwhelmed. She wondered if Jon still felt overwhelmed. 

“Sounds like fun,” Jon said. “Can I bring my notebook?”

“...yeah, sure.” Sasha paused, almost uncertain. “Hey. When you get to, like, two hundred -”

“Technically two hundred and twenty.”

“When you get to two hundred and twenty, do you finally feel like an adult?”

Jon stared at her, faintly surprised, before his expression settled into something a little wry. “Anybody who says that they ever feel like an adult is a liar. That’s how you know that Jonah’s full of shit.”

Somehow, it was almost a little reassuring.

First time she had ever said that about Jon. 

********

Their adventures, of course, were quickly throttled by practicalities. 

Sasha suggested just watching it on a laptop, but Jon’s expression had wrinkled in distaste. Jon suggested just watching it at her place, but Sasha liked to pretend that he didn’t know where she lived. Far too much intimacy, and somewhat hilariously Jon seemed very awkward about being alone with a woman in her flat. Also they were still working, technically. 

Martin, overhearing their argument in the Archives as Sasha collected her laptop, suggested Jon’s place, since it was pretty nice and cozy and close to the Archives. This forbidden knowledge, the shining proof that sometimes a little knowledge could be a terrible and traumatizing thing, the sheer mental image that imprinted itself behind her eyelids, shook Sasha to her core.

“For christ’s sake,” Martin said, “we are not fucking.”

“Sounds like someone who’s fucking our boss would say!” Tim called, from his position asleep on the break room couch. Sasha had spent roughly five hours yesterday convincing him that her plan to manipulate Jon’s psychological weaknesses was the most effective defense against evil fear powers that they had, and since he had lost the argument he was now resentfully napping on the couch. “If I walk in on you doing it in the office over a desk I’m going to fucking kill both of you and then myself!”

“Does this place have an HR?” Melanie asked, from where she was sitting at her desk actually trying to work. “Can I report all of you to HR? Please?”

“Jon can hardly fire himself,” Sasha told her sympathetically. “This shit will all make sense if you accept the fact that -”

“God, I get it, enough with the workplace hazing!” Melanie threw up her hands, as Jon unsubtly whispered something in Martin’s ear that made him blush. “You can all drop it now, it was never funny!”

“If Sasha just let me prove it to you,” Jon said, exasperated, “then you can see -”

Simultaneously, all three of them snapped, “Do not!”, cowing Jon immensely. 

Tim was no help in problem-solving, since he was resentful that Sasha was doing this at all. He had been spending almost all of his time lately throwing himself into research into the rituals, into anything that explained the strange and obscure rigor of this universe. Jon only explained as much to them as Jonah let him, and the most he ever did was mysteriously drop off boxes that held a lot of information about clowns and sawdust.

He always seemed a little surly as he did it. Sometimes he looked very guilty. Sasha noticed, every time. She couldn’t afford not to. 

All Sasha could try to do for Tim was help him. Their relationship had already been fractured by the way they kept secrets from each other, and although they both wanted to repair it they were forced to confront the fact that now they had to tell each other things. Accept help. Sasha hated acknowledging that she couldn’t do everything by herself, and Tim hated putting Sasha in the danger he relentlessly and suicidally threw himself into, but neither of them would let the other continue on their self-destructive path. 

It wasn’t sweet. But it was the most solid and tangible proof Sasha had that they loved each other. Maybe it was the most solid proof anybody could have: that, in life or death, they’d choose wherever you were. 

If Sasha followed Tim into whatever dangerous shit he was getting himself into, then he would be more careful. Tim wouldn’t survive it if he lost her, and she knew it. 

Between her and Tim, and Jon and Martin...why did all of their relationships feel like mutually assured destruction?

Eventually, Jon’s solution was, as usual, the worst one. Jon’s solution to every problem always worked, but it was always the one thing that nobody wanted to do and that everyone hated. But anything else was either vetoed or improbable, and Sasha refused to back out once she committed to something, so that was how Sasha stuffed a laptop and an HDMI cable into her bag to trail behind Jon as they rode the elevator up to the third floor. 

The number three rule of the Archives was not relevant right now (let Sasha have two cups of coffee before bothering her about how terrible their lives were). But the number two rule of the Archives was this: don’t fuck with Rosie. They both gave her their brightest grins as they passed, impeccably polite without actually asking if Jonah was inside. Rosie smiled munificently at them and complemented Sasha on her heels. They were in. They were now breaking the number one rules of the Archives. 

The number one rule of the Archives was, of course, this: never talk to Jonah Magnus unnecessarily. 

On the bright side, from this perspective Sasha could see how Jon worked his magic - that is, how he always entered Jonah’s office through kicking the door open and infuriating the other man tremendously. He actually took the time to open the door a crack first, completely silently and almost imperceptibly, before crashing it open in as annoying a way as physically possible. 

“I need your fucking office!” Jon called. 

When Sasha poked her head in behind him, she was treated to the sight of a terrified employee cowering in the hard plastic chair in front of Jonah’s desk. Sasha was well aware how that chair could feel like an electric chair. Across from him, Jonah looked distinctly unamused, already kneading his brow. 

“I’m in a meeting, Jon.”

“Good for you.” Jon pointed at the door, and the employee silently scurried out. “Not anymore. Now fuck off, I need your office.”

Impossibly, Jonah looked even more unamused. “Fucking your Archivist on my desk in the middle of the day is a bit beyond the pale even for you, Jon.”

Sasha was immediately so fucking disgusted that she switched into Spanish and called him a great deal of incredibly rude things for an incredibly long period of time. 

Talking over her, Jon said, “Take out your resentment over 1899 on someone else. We want your television, we’re watching Sasha’s programmes.”

“Right. Like how you and that boy Martin are always watching programmes -”

“Me cago en tu puta madre--”

“Honestly, Jonah, just because you had all of those men over for revision of your manuscripts doesn’t mean everyone’s as euphemistic as you are. And Sasha, that’s remarkably vulgar.”

For the first time, Jonah looked alarmed. “What is she saying?”

“Sólo porque tienes un rabo chiquito -”

“Go learn Spanish.”

“Ms. James, this is a professional office, and -”

“Melanie’s fucking right, we need a fucking HR.” Now this was a matter of pride. Sasha flounced into the office, collapsing onto one of the dumb uncomfortable leather couches facing one of those screens that rich people had in their offices to show their powerpoint slides or whatever. “I’m going to Stare you to death if you don’t leave us alone to watch telly.”

Hilariously, Jonah looked at Jon, alarmed. “Can she do that?”

Jon opened his mouth, before Sasha shot him a look. “She’s progressing amazingly rapidly. At this point, not even I know what she’s capable of.”

What a wingman. Jonah looked faintly uncomfortable, but he went back to his computer anyway instead of doing the rational thing and getting out. “This grant is due in three days, Jon, and I have no time for your little fancies. Do what you will, but leave me out of it.”

Sasha was not thrilled at the prospect of Jonah fucking Magnus hanging out in the background while Sasha and Jon watched telenovelas. She’d be outnumbered by the evil fear demons, for one. But Sasha had a sneaking suspicion, and maybe if she couldn’t genuinely stop this guy’s evil plans she could annoy him to death.

At the very least, it would make her feel better. Sasha was beginning to recognize the value of anything that just made you fucking feel better. Maybe Tim was onto something with constantly being a giant bitch all the time. 

“Ignore that cunt,” Sasha said in Spanish, catching Jon’s attention as she stood up to plug in the HDMI cable and turn on the television. “I got crisps and chocolate in my bag, I’m putting on Marimar.”

“Is she insulting me again?” Jonah asked. “Jon, what’s she saying?”

“I’m afraid I only consume trauma,” Jon said, also switching to Spanish. His accent was fucking bizarre. He sounded like her great uncle, or an even worse version of Sucedió en La Habana. At her boggled look, he elaborated, “The Witness gifted me with understanding of all languages very early in my development, but it bestowed verbal fluency in...1910? Perhaps? I’m afraid that without a little practice and frequent use I’m a little bit stuck there. I was able to beat my Chinese and Russian into sounding modern, but I’m afraid that people now tell me my Chinese is somewhat 1960s and my Russian is fairly 1980s.” He scowled. “Why does modernity change so much?”

“I think telenovelas can fix this for you,” Sasha decided. She paused a beat as Jon sat down beside her, a careful distance away. “The Witness? Is that a weird translation thing? You called it the Beholding last time.”

Jon shifted, a little guiltily. In English, he said, “The term Beholding’s better...it’s more academic, and more people use it…”

“What are you two -”

“Is ‘The Witness’ your word?” Sasha asked, and to her horror she found her tone almost gentle. It was almost easier, in her own words.

This time Jon truly looked uncomfortable, and he shifted back into Spanish - perhaps, Sasha thought, because Jonah could not understand it. “Smirke contributed all of the nomenclature for this, and he never...well, none of Jonah’s little circle liked me very much.”

“Wow, wonder why.”

“Exoticism only gets you so far, I suppose,” Jon joked weakly, before sharply swerving the subject. “I always felt as if it gave me its own name. When I began to understand, really understand what it was and how we could feed each other...I felt as if it told me. And that’s what it told me. So it’s always been my name.”

Hm. Sasha wondered what it was like, to have your religion be - so tangible, so grounded. Sasha believed, and she had faith with all of her heart, but - well, you wouldn’t need faith if you had incontestable proof. Faith was about believing because you knew something in your heart. But Jon...when he had nothing else, maybe, he had this.

“I just put down ‘James’ because I thought it would make that small-dicked asshole more likely to hire me,” Sasha finally offered, her only equivalent for something like this. “Tell you what. Call me James Martinez, and I’ll curse the name of the Witness, okay? If you’d like me to.”

Jon brightened, and for a second Sasha saw her own faith in his brilliant green eyes. “My gift is shared with you, Sasha. Of course you can.”

It was not a gift. It was a terrible and disgusting curse, and it was one that Jon had inflicted upon her. But Sasha was playing nice...and this was knowledge, understanding Jon was knowledge that could save her life one day...and there was something strange about Jon’s hesitant and multi-barbed trust. 

It had to be the trust of somebody who had it betrayed a hundred, thousand times. But he gave it so easily, and he reached out incessantly. Sasha knew lots of people who cared too much, although she had never been one of them - Tim and Martin, for one - but she could already see how it was making them a little bitter and jaded. 

Jon wasn’t. Sasha didn’t know why. 

So Sasha kicked off her heels, tucking her legs underneath her as she pulled up her favorite episode of Marimar on her laptop. It was a comfort show, having context wouldn’t help, she had rights. 

“Okay,” Sasha began, a little aggressively, “we’re starting a lot of the way in, so I have to catch you up. Like a lot of telenovela protagonists, Marimar is a wholesome young girl who lives in a little sad hut shack on the beach and she can’t read. She’s raised by her grandparents and her dog talks. This is the essential premise of the show.”

“Wow,” Jon whispered, “just like me.”

“I - okay, you are not obligated to give me your backstory, but what?”

“Martin keeps calling me a ‘sad little Victorian orphan’,” Jon said defensively. “And dogs talk to me too!”

“...what do they say?”

“If you’d believe it, nothing interesting.” He paused a beat. “But Georgie’s cat is kind of a psychopath, if that helps.”

“That’s a stereotype against cats,” Sasha accused. “Just because humans don’t understand cat body language -”

“Oh, no, cats are lovely, my favorite animal. But the Admiral’s kind of a freak.”

“If you two are going to sit here and trash talk me in my own office,” Jonah said, aggravated, “then please at least take it outside.”

Actually, this was a great idea.

Sasha ran through the plot of Marimar, down to the love interest with the terrible chest hair (Jon and Sasha then got into an argument over chest hair that was so heated that Sasha suspected Martin had chest hair), the evil step-mother (they both agreed that women in soaps tended to fall within the madonna/whore complex), and the weird amounts of humiliation. Sasha loved to hate Mr. Douchey McChesthair in this one - he wooed Marimar and promised to raise her up from poverty, but he ended up ditching her when she wasn’t refined enough for him. She wins him back at the end with her nice dresses and inherited money, and they settle down with a baby and a big house. Sasha always hated the ending. Marimar should have become a career woman. 

“It’s massively cheesy,” Sasha warned, finally playing the episode and letting the cheery theme song play, “so don’t sit here and point out the logical inconsistencies. We know. It’s part of the experience.”

But Jon just arched an eyebrow, unbuttoning his own pea cot to throw over the back of the sofa and lounge in his seat. “Watching telenovelas, in the office of the Director of the facility where you work, with his boss, in London, is the experience? And we’re all - how do you put it - evil fear demons?”

“You haven’t met my auntie,” Sasha said darkly. But she ended up shaking her head too, picking at her stockings a little. “The experience is...eleven pm, and the whole house is dark. The kitchen light is on, this flickering yellow thing that pops and buzzes. There’s cicadas outside, and somewhere you can hear someone playing music too loudly. Dad’s in his ripped up armchair, snoring. Mom’s on the couch, reading a magazine. They’re only half-paying attention, but it’s late, and you feel like you never get enough time with them. So you sit on the couch next to Mom, and because neither of them say anything you watch the show with all of your attention, just happy to be near them...it’s family bonding, you think. It feels like it.”

Jon was silent, staring at her. Not fixedly, or intensely - just looking, as if he was waiting patiently to see if she would say anything else. But Sasha trailed off, picking at her stockings, until she forced herself to stop. She didn’t want to say anything else. She was worried that he would know what she wasn’t saying. He always did.

“My grandmother couldn’t read,” Jon said finally, and Sasha fought the surprise. Jon never talked about this, not in any specific words. “But she would darn clothing by the fire at night. She did it for the neighborhood and earned some extra money.”

“What about you?” Sasha asked, hoping it was a safe topic. “What did you do?”

Jon grinned at her, sharp and amused. “I got into trouble.”

They both turned their attention back to the television, and Sasha silently mouthed the words along with the screen as Jon paid rapt attention. 

It was later in the show, when Marimar was showing up all of the people who did her dirty when she was poor. She had a fine dress, lingering on the arm of her rich and kind of creepy father, and she walked around with her head held up high. Her old husband who treated her terribly saw her at the opera and he was stunned by how hot and cool she was now. 

“Good for her!” Jon said abruptly. “Go find someone better, Marimar!”

“Oh my god,” Sasha groaned. “She ends up with him!”

“What!”

Quicker than Sasha would ever have expected, Jon got wrapped up in the episode. He gasped with her at the right parts, cheered at the screen whenever Marimar said something particularly sassy, and they booed whenever Douchey McChesthair showed up. 

When Sasha glanced behind her - not that she did - she saw Jonah fixedly ignoring them. He was gritting his teeth a little. Every so often he would glance at the screen, obviously look terribly confused, then go back to his computer. 

When the credits rolled Jon declared this second-hand trauma, which terrified Sasha deeply but raised interesting questions about her own future diet. 

“It’s about the humiliation, fear, and voyeurism,” Jon told her. “Supernatural trauma and devastation tastes rather similar to these telenovelas.”

“...what do they taste like?”

Jon thought hard. “Taste, but if it was a feeling.”

“...what’s the -”

“What’s the feeling you have?”

Sasha was forced to concede the point, and put on another episode. 

In this one, Marimar’s new dad tied tragically, and she very cunningly has him sign all of his money over to her. Sasha cheered her on very enthusiastically, and Jon agreed that Marimar was the definition of girlboss, but he found it kind of a dick move. 

“I thought you hated pretentious, old money rich white Britons,” Sasha accused. She knew that Martin had been working on him and trying to convert him to socialism,, but it was slow going. 

“I do hate entitled, old money people,” Jon said shortly. “But it’s hardly illegal to work your way up the social ladder and improve your station in life. Marimar isn’t putting the work in, she’s just inheriting all of this blood money. If she doesn’t make something of her life then what’s the point in all of that suffering?”

“You do know how social mobility is a lie fed to the lower class by the upper class to keep them complacently participating in the system, right?” 

“I’m not saying many people do it,” Jon said, ignoring Marimar’s grotesquely fake sobbing, “but it’s possible. I’ve met plenty of people who worked hard and became successful.”

“Yeah, and those people were lucky. Most of us just sit around in poverty and suffer.” Sasha rolled her eyes, unwrapping her chocolate bar. “Not all of us can be Dr. Faust.”

“You didn’t sit around,” Jon said, turning to face her. Sasha didn’t meet his eyes, focusing on her chocolate instead. “You were smart, you worked your way up, you got your scholarship, and now you’re part of something far greater than yourself. You took what happened to you and you used to make you stronger, just like I did. Anybody can do it if they work hard enough.”

Sasha’s teeth clamped down on the chocolate.

Abruptly, stupidly, she got angry. 

“I’m not better than the thousands of other trans women who got kicked out, Jon,” Sasha snapped, but Jon didn’t flinch. “I’m just luckier! I know I worked hard, but I’m not more - more worthy of what I have than the brave women back home who have nothing. And I’m not going to stomp on them to make myself feel better like you do!”

“I do not -” Jon started, outraged, but Sasha cut him off. 

“You tell yourself that you worked hard for the security, money, education that you never got as a child! But you deserved all of that! That’s shit that anybody who lives deserves. But because you think of it as some kind of stupid reward, then it’s something that can be taken away. And when what you have can be taken away at any moment, then you have nothing!”

She cut herself off abruptly, unwilling and incapable of saying anything more. There were lines you couldn’t cross with Jon, and lines that she didn’t deserve to cross no matter how callous he was. She couldn’t accuse him of forgetting where he came from, or of betraying his people. Sasha knew well that Jon had never forgotten, not for a second. 

He had just - twisted everything around. He had to justify to himself what he’d done, so he’d taken the truth and molded it to fit his own desires and call it holy. 

It had killed her. It had killed her, how Jon told her that they were the same, but he did all of this shit to her anyway. But maybe that was no surprise: Jon hadn’t done anything to her that he hadn’t done to everybody else, and he hadn’t made any justifications to himself about his behavior towards her that he hadn’t made about everybody else. 

You couldn’t live like he did with emotional honesty. Good people could do bad things - Sasha knew that better than anyone - but it required a truly disgusting level of willful blindness and cowardice that Sasha had never tolerated. 

“Nobody gave me being a woman,” Sasha whispered, too full of - something, to even look at Jon. “I didn’t take it from anyone. I didn’t steal it. It was something that I always deserved, and that I always was. And because of that, nobody will ever take it away from me.” She exhaled heavily, forcing herself to stop shaking. “Nobody can make me something I’m not. Not even you.”

Jon stared at her, toxic green eyes wide and something foreign in his expression. It looked almost as if he believed her. Ha. “Sasha, I -”

“I swear, it’s like you two are making an effort to be as intrusive as possible. Jon, can’t you control your own Archivist?”

Jon almost jumped, as if he had forgotten that Jonah was in the room at all. Something in his chest seized closer, and a year ago Sasha would have just called it a twitch. 

It wasn’t. It was an aborted, concealed cringe, seen only once before. But there was only one other person in this world who cared about that. 

“Jonah!” Jon said, switching back to English immediately. “Sorry, we were just - having a really heated discussion about - uh, about -”

“Brujeria and how it changed when adopted by members of the Catholic church,” Sasha said smoothly. “I think his weird compulsion thing is just advanced witchcraft.”

“Yes! Yes, of course - you remember, I took inspiration from p - pagan rituals, you know, for our early work. I think you called it -”

“Bizarre?” Jonah asked, arching an eyebrow. “Jon, there were bones involved.” Jon silently pointed at the human skull taking up proud residence in Jonah’s cabinet of curiosities. “That’s different, a friend gave me that.”

“ ‘Have you seen Barnabas lately, Jonah’, I said. ‘He hasn’t seemed to have written lately’, I said. ‘Have you grown distant?’, I said. And you said -”

“Yes, he was very distant,” Jonah said dryly. “You hardly complained. You hated the man.”

“I hated all of your friends,” Jon said. He was smiling, once again relaxed with his arm spread over the back of the couch. Sasha furiously bit into a chip. “Didn’t mean you let them die.”

“Yes, but he was your least favorite, so I figured there was no harm done there.”

Improbably, Jon brightened. He smiled again, a curved slash of the mouth that had always been reserved for Jonah. It always spoke of secrets, a private joke. “You do care.”

“I’ll care more if you stop chattering when I’m trying to get us funded for another cycle.”

“Whatever.” Jon turned to face the screen again, letting the smile fall into a curiously blank expression. “Next episode, Sasha?”

“Sure,” Sasha said slowly. “But it only gets worse from here.”

 It would never stop being weird how - well, maybe that was no wonder. How could Sasha begin to understand a relationship as strange and esoteric as theirs? Two hundred years in the making, forged by cruelty and passion? Two lives, intertwined so closely they fed in a parasitic loop, starving the other to feed themselves? 

“Oh, I don’t mind a little tragedy,” Jon said. He spoke in English, vowels carefully rounded, posh accent meticulously stretching his words. “It’s the most entertaining.”

Sasha thought about print-outs. She thought about a many-eyed, malicious tumor of fear and pain consuming humanity alive. She thought about the face of God, and the tired and resigned face of Martin. When Sasha spoke, she stayed in Spanish.

“Even though she gets married to Mr. Douchey McChestHair at the end?”

“I’m sure he’s not all bad,” Jon said, and wouldn’t say anything more. 

[whump-town]

Maybe Time Running Out Is A Gift

Very much so inspired by "If We Were Vampires" by Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit

Hotchniss— just domestic bliss and no catch

There’s something about these nights, the summer nights that sit thick with humidity that seems to draw him that much closer to her. They have mingled enough that it wouldn’t be the first time he got his sweat all over her-- he is but a dorky man at the end of the day and deprives a twisted joy out of coming into their home wet with the sweat from working outside and wrapping her up in his arms so she has to feel it. He’d done it just today after seeing her poking about the house in jean overalls and an old sports bra. Had known the rush of mischief he’d felt when she groaned and tried to get away when he grabbed her. She’d thought they were far too old for these antics, it’s clear he doesn’t agree. Which is a rich thought coming from someone who waited until he was pinned under the sink to tickle his sides so he couldn’t escape.

The air conditioner hums away as it tries to overpower the Virginia heat and the windows Aaron insisted they leave open for the slight draft. She’s not sure why she caved to his argument because now he’s the one swaddled in his blankets, tucked up against her, and she’s sweating her ass off. It’s in moments like these that she’s reminded of that fury she harbored upon their first meeting. Of the stubborn as all hell man whose desk she’d stretched across to shake his hand only for him to meet her eyes and purposely get her college wrong. He’d admitted this years ago, a shameful blush creeping up his neck as he retold his thought process. Of the joy, he’d gotten out of her annoyance and she’d whacked him with the closest magazine she could find being reminded of just how easily he has always managed to get into her head.

That man that day has been many things over the course of their lives. Her enemy, the man she was hired to take down. For a while, she’d thought about it. He was a hateful man and she a spiteful woman-- the perfect mix of misery to see that in one another and exacerbate it exponentially. Then a mystery, an enigma she looked at like the most fascinating puzzle and, despite her best attempts, had begun to like. Somehow they stumbled into acquaintances until it was him she wanted to tell her shitty jokes to and him she wanted to wait for to go get drinks. To sitting beside his unconscious body in the ICU, listening to his labored breathing and wondering if this would end if for him. How much will he give before it becomes too much?

Now he’s the man drooling on her shoulder, whose arm over her hips is comforting and familiar. She wants to shake her head at him, to complain about how clingy he is, but she knows she’s lucky. The men of her past are horrible and they make a little drool seem like nothing at all. Her father was emotionally manipulative, never raised a hand but sometimes he threw words like the crack of a belt. She could feel their sting on her cheek. There was John, just a little older than her, but enrapturing with his cigarettes and free will. He’d used her and abandoned her when their actions had created a life neither would survive. How many between then and Ian? She can’t even remember them all. The other girls used to call her a whore but she had no concept of her own body. Just that she liked the attention of men and the only way to keep that attention was sex. It worked with every man she ever met.

Except for Aaron.

She can remember the flood of embarrassment she’d felt the first time she tried to stick her hand down his pants. The way their casual kissing had gotten a little heated and he’d stopped her, gently rubbing her hand as he pulled it away from his belt. “Slow,” he’d reminded her and she’d blushed but he’d soothed that too. Reminded her he just has to be sure if not for their jobs then for Jack because he’s not exactly given set a great standard for dating. He’d kissed her again, cupping her cheek, and turned his attention back to the movie. She still remembers the shock of that. Of him. The way he kissed and touched her like every single second she allowed him close was something he cherished. She doesn’t think anyone’s really touched her like that. As if they meant it.

Now she’s stuck with him.

Despite the grown man laying all over her and the heat of the room, she manages to fall asleep. Somewhere between his soft snoring and thinking about the garden and the flowers he’s left on their porch still in their containers.

When she wakes he’s not in bed. The early morning has not brought on the wrath of mid-day’s heat, leaving the air conditioner to power on and her to shiver under the blankets without him there to wrap himself around her. She lays there for a few more moments before her left hip starts to ache from the position and she realizes that she has to get up to stretch and pee. In motion, there’s no point in crawling back into bed. Not unless she can convince Aaron to come back for a nap later.

She pulls on an old pair of his sweatpants before venturing out to him. He’s full of all the same old habits so she knows exactly where he is. “Good morning,” she greets, stepping out on the porch. He’s surrounded by children, sparring her only a glance as he looks up from his apple cutting. This is an everyday sort of thing. Every morning at seven he greets the neighbor’s children on their porch, bringing with him three apples or oranges to divide between himself and the children as they wait for the bus. She’s wordlessly passed an apple slice.

“So,” she asks, taking a seat on the porch swing and smiling as one of the kids climbs up after her. “How are we doing this morning? Ready for school?” Most of the kids are elementary schoolers so they cheer with big gap-toothed grins around the slices of apple Aaron’s supplied them. They have only one high schooler, a seventeen-year-old who simply winces around his apple. She doesn’t miss it. “Have you gotten any of those college applications in back yet?”

Aaron looks up, hand stilling to wait for an answer.

Arthur, the boy in question, averts their gaze to swallow thickly and admit, “I-- I don’t know.” He bites into his apple, kicking at the concrete corner of the edge of the porch. Anything to avoid them, to pull the attention back away from him. “Don’t want to look.”

She should have known, he’s placed the whole porch between them and him. She hums, “why can’t you check them?” She knows he’s got other things to tend to which is probably how he’s been able to put off checking the applications as long as he has. Melancholy hits her a little hard as she recalls the last time she and Aaron had to help an anxious to the point of anger teenager through the thorns and thickets of college application papers. Jack hadn’t been very happy about all the paperwork either. Smart as a whip but dissolving to the point of tears by the pure amount of information he needed to fill in until he’d give up with an angry wipe of his face and the soft admission “I don’t understand it”. It had all been worth the tears of joy and Aaron’s near heart attack at his son’s sudden shout when he’d gotten them back. He’d taken his laptop back to his room, needed to be alone just in case they came back bad.

Of course, they hadn’t.

Arthur glances at Aaron before swallowing and shrugging. “Dunno,” he mumbles.

The bus is his saving grace and he wastes no time throwing his bookbag over his shoulder and offering a quick wave before tearing off for it. The other children bounce about as Aaron splits the rest of the apple in his hand between them. “Arthur!” he shouts, watching between the knife in his hand and the teen now coming to a staggering halt. “Just check the applications, huh? I’m sure you got into all of them. They’d be fools not to take you.” Aaron’s already looking back down, mumbling something with a smile to the others before sending them off. Never sees the way Arthur looks back at him, stunned in silence until one of his sisters smacks into him and jolts him back to Earth.

Emily observes Aaron for a moment, watches him pop the last sliver of apple in his mouth before wiping the blade of his pocket knife off on his jeans. Observing the blade for a moment before shaking his head and muttering, “damn things dull again.” He meets her gaze, oblivious to her thoughts, and shows her. “I think I need a new one.”

She could care less about his stupid pocket knife-- especially when she knows he’s had that one for longer than she’s known him and he won’t get a new one. She’s lost thinking about how old they are. How the two of them have surpassed every joke they made in their pasts about dying too soon, too young. They’ve raised Jack and have somehow made it to the age where she realizes, that they’re at the grandparenting age. Something she hadn’t even thought about until seeing Aaron just now. His baggy old sweater and the ease he has with being around children that would be the perfect age to look as if they were his own grandchildren and suddenly she yearns to see him with them. To see Jack become a father and to be able to see that light in Aaron’s eyes.

And, well, maybe she’d like a son or daughter-in-law out of Jack too and grandkids. A woman can dream… when was the last time she even got to hold a baby?

“Coffee?” Aaron asks, standing from his rocking chair and offering her hand. She nods and takes it, wincing at the chill of his skin. It reminds her that Thursday he has two doctor’s appointments both of which he’ll hate, not that he likes any of them, but he really hates the meeting with the orthopedics who push at his sore hips and want to check every square inch of his body. All for the same old thing. A higher dosage of the medication he takes for his shitty vascular system and the threat that if he doesn’t start taking care of his right hip better with the exercises they advise he’ll be hobbling about with a cane by the end of the year.

But they always say that. He’d rather just take the cane and call it a day.

Meanwhile, she gets by with her obscene amounts of coffee. Her hip is always hurting but she never does anything about it and her doctors praise her for excellent health and great blood pressure and just everything. It drives him crazy.

He makes the coffee while she’s puttering about the house, two cups made the exact same way. The way she likes because he already knows he’ll get halfway through this cup, like he always does, before leaving it to entertain some random thought he’s had. Which means he’s leaving it for her to finish and he also really likes the ratio of creamer that she prefers and it’s a good reason to indulge in all the silly little fancy additions he can make to it.

She takes the mug he offers with a smile, sipping the too-hot liquid before it cooled enough and sucking in a breath through her teeth with a wince. The same mistake every day, she never learns. “Will you get those flowers off my porch?” she asks. She pulls the sliding glass door to their backyard open, stepping out and knowing he’s right on her heels. “They’re going to die if you don’t get them into the ground.”

Last week or maybe Monday they’d gone out to Lowe’s to get her lumber for a bookshelf. He’d wandered off while she found what wood she wanted and what stain she thought would go best. She was not surprised when he came back grinning and told her about the flowers he’d loaded into the cart. She’d only half-listened as the Lowe’s guys put the wood in the back of the truck but the point is there will be lots of yellows and purples and, she can only remember one of the names because he’d particularly excited about these, orange black-eyed susan vines. Which are all sitting on the front porch waiting for him.

He grunts.

“And make sure you put sunblock on your neck,” she adds, sneaking a smirk his way. The last time he’d been gardening he’d taken off his hat and burnt the hell out of the back of his neck. Was miserable for days because of it and, naturally, all his groaning became her problem.

He squints his eyes at her but says nothing. He’ll remember the sunblock this time.

They separate off into their tasks for the day.

She leaves him on the back porch with a kiss to the temple and rustle of his hair, off to find her copy of the “The Illustrated Man” wherever she left it last. She’ll take it out to the hammock between the trees in their backyard so she can watch him as she takes breaks from reading. He’s already brought his flowers around when she gets back out, standing there looking all kinds of confused as he scratches his head absently as he thinks. Eyes darting around the dirt as he comes up with how he wants to plant the flowers.

“We can get mulch Thursday after your doctor’s appointment,” she says as she passes, patting his butt as does so. He’s lost the sweater stripped down to his worn jeans and a thin white t-shirt. He grunts at her suggestion both as a yes and a wordless complaint at being reminded of his doctor’s appointment.

It doesn’t take him long to figure out where he wants things and she watches him get to it. She’s certainly had her fun picking at him for filling his retirement with something so typically feminine as planting flowers but she thinks it’s terribly sweet. She loves just how proud he is of his little garden and every year he talks about planting vegetables too. The man’s got a hell of a green thumb, he could do it.

With a hum, she stretches out in the hammock and makes a mental note to ask Morgan if he knows anything about vegetable gardens. If they can get him over here to pull the ground up she’s certain Aaron would have something down in the dirt as soon as he could. Wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t already have the seeds ready.

The kids would love that. She smirks into her book, satisfied with herself. It’s settled then, she decides. She’ll call Morgan and get Reid to help them find vegetables that are in season. They’ll love that.

It’s the perfect beginning to her day and with any luck, it’ll stay that way.

[sword-dad-fukuzawa]

Thoughts on Chuuya’s Character Song

I was going to do Atsushi’s next, but I figured I may as well do soukoku together. Also, this is really fucking hard with a hilariously limited understanding of Japanese and trying to cross reference poem translations with song lyrics, my god. Complaining now out of the way, this song is half as depressing as Dazai’s and twice as sexy, so buckle up, y’all. It’s a long one :p

No matter what kind of cliched game it is, I'll play until the end But I won't be satisfied with a scenario by a third-rate writer

Ah, an opening line that fits Chuuya to a tee. So, I figure he’s opening with the acknowledgement that many of the people he knows likes to treat him like a chess piece--namely, his boss and Dazai. He knows he’s just a player in the schemes of others, but he doesn’t particularly care about the fact that he’s being jerked around as long as it’s for some greater purpose. His tone seems to indicate that he resents this, at least a little, but his fiery dismissal says that it doesn’t matter to him in the end.

GOOD BYE, tainted clothes are no longer to be worn I simply wanted a way to kill time

Alright, multiple ways to interpret this bit. Goodbye in english, and a reference to the poem his ability is named after with “tainted”. The argument could be made he’s referring to Dazai, considering the title and references made in Dazai’s character song.

 I’d actually argue he’s talking about the Sheep. It feels like he’s casting off his past with that organization, dismissing them with the words that they weren’t really important to him--just a way to kill time, even though we know that their betrayal cut him deeply. And it’s why he’s saying goodbye, and dismissing them as a part of his past. It’s an interesting parallel to the way Dazai talks about Chuuya himself in his own song, because the both of them have pasts that they’re trying to run from.

'In languor dreams of death' ... who was the one that said it?

That would be you, Chuuya. At least IRL Chuuya, in his very fancy poem “For the Tainted Sorrow”. But why this line? 

I’ve puzzled it over for a while, but I don’t have a conclusion. Interesting that he opens with talking about death, though, considering how he brushes up against it almost every day by nature of his job.

The world is a bird cage, faded in colour Even if I lament, I can't get out of this prison

This part is also oddly reminiscent of Dazai’s song. Chuuya’s saying that he feels trapped, like a bird in a cage that no longer interests him at all, and that he can’t escape no matter how much he laments. Which is an interesting translation choice, considering his Sheep Song poem can also be translated as “Lament of the Lamb” (though the words themselves in Japanese differ, so I can’t call this an actual reference).

BUT NOW, DARKNESS MY SORROW I have not yet fallen apart So, as I laugh off this imposed inconvenience Let's overturn even the heavens and the earth (GRAVITY) Within the darkness, a shadow of a hat lightly dances

But Chuuya doesn’t care. So what if he’s trapped? So what if escape is impossible? He’s still alive, he’s still holding it together. So he brushes it off as something that doesn’t really impact him much. This song seems very much like a massive middle finger to the shitty cards he’s been dealt. Chuuya’s saying that despite it all, he’s still going to turn the world upside down. 

Part of me thinks the reference to the hat is a Rimbaud reference, since he got the hat from Rimbaud and it originally belonged to Verlaine. I feel like this is Chuuya acknowledging how those two people have influenced him, which...we don’t know about yet, as his backstory is still mostly unexplored.

Even if I get tired of the night and tear off my shackles That eye who sees eye to eye with Kierkegaard is also here

This is Chuuya saying that if he gets tired of the Port Mafia (remember, the night is the PM’s domain) there’s still someone who will make sure he can’t leave. After some googling, I’ve realized Kierkegaard is a Danish poet. But who is Chuuya referencing, who sees eye to eye with Kierkegaard? I’m pretty sure it’s Mori, but the JSTOR article I made an account for is 45 pages long and I’m working my way through it slowly. I’ll get back to y’all on this bit, but for now, I’m 90% sure this is Mori.

WOW OH [The best view worth more than a ten-billion masterpiece...] Let's stop messing around already

Ah, Chuuya, always ready for a fight. And this is definitely a reference to Dazai. This is what he says when he sees Dazai for the first time in four years, coming down the stairs to see his old enemy/friend/partner chained to the wall. If you need a memory refresh, it’s the scene where Dazai says “✨CHUUYA!✨”

Why, of all people... is the KEY CASE in that person's hand? In the moment we clashed, the one in control is me I will manipulate even the weight of this cut-short life

Who is “that person”? I’d hazard a guess that it’s Dazai, considering the previous line. The first line is him lamenting that Dazai seems to always have the answers, always to hold the key. But the next part is Chuuya reasserting his control. It’s Chuuya, fiercely defiant to the end, flipping another middle finger to the guy who keeps coming into his life to turn it upside down. Even his own mortality doesn’t faze him in the least. To Chuuya, it’s another obstacle to overcome.

LONELY DARKNESS MY SORROW, once it is opened by the key I'd rather just fall than go back to being alone Staring at the destroyed cage of this self, (GRAVITY) Slowly, I sing, "Not bad at all."

Chuuya, I love you, but why so many goddamn metaphors? Let’s break this down. 

Firstly, there’s a swap from “darkness my sorrow” to “lonely darkness my sorrow”. Ignoring the key part for now, we can look at the second line where he says he’d rather fall then be alone again. I think this is a part of his trauma from how he was alone, with Arahabaki/as Arahabaki, for so many years. Chuuya very deliberately surrounds himself with people--first the Sheep, then the PM. He hates to be alone. And it’s an interesting counterpoint to Dazai, who always feels alone regardless of who he’s with by sheer virtue of how isolated his brain makes him feel.

Secondly, the cage metaphor. So the cage from earlier also seems to double as a metaphor for Chuuya himself, which makes sense. He’s technically a vessel for Arahabaki, and so inner conflict has been a part of his identity from the beginning. So once someone (possibly Dazai, possibly Mori, possibly even Rimbaud if you want to focus on how Rimbaud freed Arahabaki) frees him, it’s like he destroys the things that are holding him back. And he’s fine with that. 

I’ll address the themes of destruction and the repeated screaming of “GRAVITYYYYY” at the end.

Even though it feels like I might be trapped, there is no room for sentiments I'll push myself to the limit and dye everything jet-black

Again, this is Chuuya brushing away his limitations. He’s still going to fight in spite of it all. He’s very goal oriented, liking to take action more than sitting back and thinking about it. 

The world is a bird cage, faded in colour Even if I lament, I can't get out of this prison BUT NOW, DARKNESS MY SORROW I have not yet fallen apart So, as I laugh off this imposed inconvenience Let's overturn even the heavens and the earth (GRAVITY) Within the darkness, a shadow of a hat lightly dances.

And then this bit is just a repeated part, nothing new here. So, a few concluding things. 

Firstly, Chuuya and Dazai sing about each other very differently. Chuuya seems to be almost nostalgic about Dazai. But Dazai rejects him entirely in his own song, and it’s an interesting counterpoint.

Secondly, the repeated themes of destruction and fighting. It’s honestly all Chuuya’s ever known, and the thing he’s best at. At this point, it’s a part of his identity, so it makes sense that it’s in his song. 

Third, and this part interests me the most. Chuuya’s ability is gravity manipulation, right? And gravity is an attractive force that draws objects to things with the greatest mass. I just feel it’s kind of fitting, that Chuuya--terribly scared of being alone--has a power that brings people towards him. 

Just a thought.

[labyrinthsofyou]

for you always

pairing: wong yukhei & female reader

genre: fluff

words: 6, 851

summary: in which you surprise yukhei when he forgets about your date.

+

the thing about wong yukhei is that when he is in deep thought, it is difficult to get him out of it. his thoughts run with the ‘what ifs’ and ‘maybes’ and every type of scenario and possibility. his brows will furrow the slightest and he grows so unusually silent that it makes you worry and love him a little more all at once.

to get him back sometimes involves a few kisses, some soothing touches or food because a way to get to yukhei is through his stomach.   

apparently not right now though.

a good solid two minutes since you walked in, your knock on the frosted glass door getting no response from the other side. next to the tv by the door you stand, hoping he senses another presence or smell the food filtering through the space to eventually sit up and see you. but really, you get nothing from him.

your gaze rests on yukhei sprawled on the wooden floor under the dim lights of the practice room. his arm is thrown over his eyes and gives the shirt he is wearing a bit of a rise for you to see a tiny peak of his skin underneath. you watch the steady rise and fall of his chest and for a moment you wonder if he has truly fallen asleep like that until his hands suddenly move to rub across his face as he clears his throat. he lets out a groan that sounds so frustrated and tired and mumbles something incoherent to your ears. 

he seriously doesn’t know.

“french fry for your thought?” 

you make your presence known, the sound of your question gentle to your ears but loud to his. yukhei jolts up and catches your reflection in the mirrored walls and wonders if his tired eyes are making him see things. but then he turns his head to fully grasp the sight of you a few feet away from him clutching paper bags. the small smile on your face differs from the way his mouth parts slightly with confusion. you know his brain is in overdrive, trying to sort through all the dance steps and lyrics and schedules to figure out your presence in front of him.

“what are you doing here?” he finally asks, pushing himself off the floor and dusting off his sweatpants. yukhei runs his fingers through his damp hair before proceeding to move towards you.

you let out a soft chuckle and scrunch up your nose. “you should really check your phone,” you insist with a grin.

yukhei is a handful of steps away when you know realization hits him because his eyes widen and he curses underneath his breath.

he forgot.

when you had mentioned the new restaurant that had recently opened and the raving positive reviews a few days ago, yukhei kissed you on the cheek and smiled brightly.

“we can go check it out,” he had suggested.

you had looked at him uncertainly because his schedules had been packed with practices and flights. the nights you got to seeing him, which hadn’t been much either, drained he had been. 

“it’s okay.” and a grin you had returned his way as your hand reached to thread through his hair to massage his scalp. “maybe when you get some decent rest time we’ll go. you haven’t gotten much sleep lately and if this place is really as good as everyone says it is, then i am sure it will still be open when your schedule clears up,” you had quietly reassured him. 

yukhei had looked at you for a moment then because in his head too long it had been since he took you out on a proper date. all he had wanted was a nice night out with you. 

“it’s a date,” he had promised you. 

then yukhei had held your face in his large hands, squishing your cheeks while placing a kiss on your forehead and lips to shush your protests of rest and much needed sleep for him. 

and now the guilt fills his heart and is written on his very tired face that you see so clearly once he is directly in front of you.

“everything just ran late today. the photoshoot this morning and the interview and i’ve been trying to go over the schedule and they’ve been switching up the choreography and adding to it and i wanted to get it right and-”

on your toes you go to tenderly connect his lips to yours, stopping his rambling and his running mind all the while feeling the pulls on your heartstrings. his messy hair, the dark circles underneath his eyes and the light sheen covering his face, neck and arms with the edge of the collar of his shirt wet, so exhausted he looks. 

too many times he overworks himself. 

when you release his mouth, yukhei doesn’t dare to pull far back. instead he presses his forehead to yours, disregarding the stickiness and sweatiness of it. his hands gently grip your sides, tugging on the denim jacket and pulling your body close. his familiar comforting scent of musk and spring fresh detergent is mixed with the hours he has spent dancing.   

his eyes find yours and how bad yukhei is feeling is evident in his gaze on you. “i’m sorry,” he quietly apologizes. “i really am.”

a soft hum you give him. “i know.” 

your calm and gentle voice has his head spinning because the warm smile you are giving him and the tone of your voice is not what yukhei is expecting and deserving at the moment. “you know, i didn’t even get a proper ‘hello’ from you,” you murmur sweetly.

you watch the corners of his mouth tentatively turn up as the heat rises to his face. “hi,” he whispers.

“hi,” you reply back, leaning up once more to give him another kiss in hopes to pacify the guilt he is feeling despite knowing fully well that this is eating him up right now and will for a little while. 

yukhei stretches his neck slightly forward, his mouth softly grasping on your lips for a mere moment longer until you tug away from him and take a small step back. “i have something.” then one of the paper bags you hold up in front for him and the familiar golden arches printed on the front from his favorite fast food place comes to view. that happy smile of his you love slowly comes out.

“i stood there hoping the smell would have made you look up or something but you didn’t,” you say, your voice laced with surprise. yukhei shakes his head because he really did not notice. you wave the bag as his eyes shift between yours and the food you are holding. “i hope you haven’t eaten yet because if you have, then i think i’ll be upset.” you finish your words with a playful pout that makes him chuckle lowly. 

another turn of his head he gives as he says quietly, “no, i haven’t eaten yet.” not since the lunch he had in the car ride from the station to practice. 

yukhei watches as your face lights up with his response. the food he is about to take and hold for you, but you turn, taking a step forward and glancing from the floor to the couch in the nook of the room before your footsteps move towards the latter. you settle the food on the little white table by the wall before giving it a push until it’s somewhat centered to the seats. you sit on the soft leather, curling a leg underneath you while placing your bag on the empty space beside you. 

but in place yukhei still is as he stares after you, his eyes fill with wonder because he doesn’t know how to describe you right now.

you look up, finding him standing motionless and watching you. 

“baby, come eat. the food is getting all cold.” 

yukhei clears his throat before nodding. he walks over to grab his flannel laying on the large speakers and reaches into the pocket for his phone. across the bright screen he notices the time and the six messages and three missed calls from you and ten and immediately wonders if it’s because of you. 

shitty doesn’t cover how yukhei currently feels.

yukhei takes a seat next to you, lightly tossing the shirt to land next to your bag. he slips his phone into his pocket and makes a mental note to call ten later. he moves forward, wanting to help you take out the food you bought, but the gentle squeeze you give to his knee and your quiet words telling him not to worry motions him back. so yukhei sits against the seat a little more. his body relaxes and sinks into the couch while his hand rests on your lower back and feels the soft material of your denim jacket.

you pass him his favorite chicken sandwich and some napkins that he takes with whispered words of appreciation. “start eating,” you say, turning back to the task of removing all that you had bought. 

yet yukhei waits, in spite of the hunger starting to call him and looks on as you pull out the fries, salads and chicken nuggets along with the soft drinks and two more sandwiches. 

“are you feeding an army?” he questions in amusement at the amount of food spread in front of his eyes. 

you chuckle though, “no, just you and me, babe. we can save whatever we don’t finish, but i figured you would be hungry.” two bottles of cold water you pull out for him to see. “and thirsty. i just wanted to make sure i had enough for us.”

and it takes a minute for yukhei to process your words. “you haven’t eaten yet?” because he thinks that in between all that time waiting for him you might have and you being here is just to make sure he is fed.

you rip the straw wrappers and slip it into the soft drinks, placing his favorite cola in front of him. “it’s not a date if only one of us eats, is it? besides, i wanted to eat with you.” and it’s the truth because with his schedules, the simplicity of having dinner with him means so much to you.

yukhei nods even though your back is to him. almost three hours long he has made you wait, he is certain you probably are starving yourself and that this doesn’t classify as a date anymore. 

you make sure he has what he needs before you pick up a sandwich for yourself and settle back to snuggle into his side, bringing your other leg onto the couch. the hand yukhei had on your back moves to pull you closer to him, erasing the remaining space with his large hand resting on your knee. 

the constant need to touch you and reassure him of your presence never changes.

you unwrap your sandwich with him following, and for a while, silence ensues as the food fills your stomachs. you don’t fail to notice how yukhei finishes his sandwich within minutes or how he eats the salad as if he hasn’t had a meal all day. when he’s dipping the fries between his fingers into the ketchup, yukhei questions you softly and curiously. “how did you get up here?” he plops them into his mouth. 

security is tight here for protection. coming up here is impossible. 

yukhei turns to looks at you. a sip of your drink you take before you give him a tiny grin. “hmm, i pulled some strings.” your teasing response has him staring at you in interest as he lets out a low chuckle. his thumb begins to gently rub the small circular motions on your skin. you lick the corner of your mouth, shifting your eyes to look down at the almost finished sandwich in your hands. 

“i waited for you to call to let me know if you were running late or we just had to postpone…” you say, your voice softening. 

because yukhei is always good with that, letting you know and making sure you were aware of anything that changes.

“i was afraid to call you just in case you were in the middle of something important and i didn’t want to disturb you. and i know sometimes things change last minute. so, i waited for a little bit and you still hadn’t called so i texted you. and when you didn’t respond to them after a while, i called you. i guess you were busy or your phone was silent… because you didn’t answer either.” you glance up then, to see his eyes on you. a faint shrug of your shoulders and a sad smile you offer him. “i was just worried that something happened because you always let me know.” yukhei doesn’t miss the faint crack in your voice. 

you place a hand over his and clasp the top of it. “so I ended up calling ten just to make sure everything was okay. he said you had stayed behind.” yukhei nods along, eyes going down to the food and feeling the guilt picking at him. 

when your gaze rises to find that he’s not looking at you, you tip your head towards his, giving him a nudge to do so. and once yukhei does, you give him a comforting smile. “he came back here to help me talk to security and even bought me up here. i promised him fresh baked cookies and you owe him dinner now,” you finish with a gentle laugh, hoping he will know it’s okay.

but instead, an uneasy chuckle comes out of yukhei, his mind thinking about what you had been thinking during that time. “i didn’t mean to make you worry.” he flips his hand over to intertwine your fingers together. “i really am sorry,” he apologizes once more, his tone deep and regretful. 

you nod at his response. “what’s going on?” you inquire quietly. 

yukhei is silent for a minute, watching the round movements of his thumb before lifting his eyes to you. a weak smile momentarily forms on his face before it disappears.

“i was just having trouble focusing today. they switched up the choreography a few times. everyone was picking it up like that and i just wasn’t getting it smooth like them.” you remain hushed as he lets out a weary breath remembering all the beats and steps he missed. “i just want to make sure to get the dances right. i don’t want to let anyone down.” a shrug he gives you. “maybe just nerves or something. i don’t know,” yukhei frowns with uncertainty and shrugs again, his attention returning to pick through the fries. 

it’s quiet for a moment as you stare at him, feeling the ache in your chest at the pressure he puts on himself. even when he says with the bright beam across his face and his voice confident that he doesn’t worry what others say, times like this you know he hears it all. so much hard work and dedication he puts into every opportunity he is given to prove himself to the people watching him and to make his fans proud. 

“do you know what i think?” yukhei brings his gaze back up to meet yours. with all your heart because you know it to be the truth, you remind him with a grin full of sincerity and certainty, “i think you’ll do amazing.”

the blush on his cheeks immediately rises and the tip of his ears turn red while the corners of his lips go upwards the slightest. “that’s not fair. you always think so,” yukhei says because you always do tell him that. 

you playfully scoff. “because you do. you always do,” you emphasize each word to make your point. 

every time you watch him, he shines on stage. you put the unfinished sandwich down and wipe your hands on a napkin before turning back to him. “today was just an off day, you know. we all have them, so don’t worry. but i do think the lack of rest is also taking a toll on you too. you need sleep, baby.” he hears the concern in your voice and faintly nods in agreement. you raise your hand to stroke his cheek and like a puppy, yukhei affectionately nuzzles into the palm of it. 

“but you’ll be amazing, okay? i know you will be. and i bet by tomorrow you’ll be able to do the steps with your eyes closed,” you tell him, words soft and reassuring. 

his mouth forms a gentle smile before he leans over to pucker them against your cheek. and when yukhei pulls back, he notices the mischievous look you throw his way. 

“so… you think you can spoil me and show me your solo now?” you ask with hope and interest laced in your voice.

the first time you asked him, yukhei had shaken his head with the boyish grin on his face and had said it was top secret. so you give it another try with your question now, wishing for the response to differ. but he laughs, that infectious sound making you happy. “you will see it like everyone else!” yukhei answers as he dips another fry into the ketchup to eat. 

“you know, after i said yes when you asked me out, i expected this as an advantage,” you playfully huff, rolling your eyes. “do i at least get a hint? that’s the least you can do since i’m currently feeding you.”

yukhei purses his lips and looks to the ceiling, thinking of what he can give away before snapping his fingers. he leans over to place his mouth besides your ear, his warm breath fanning against your skin. 

“body rolls,” he murmurs lowly, his tone sultry.

almost immediately you feel the heat rising in your body and your face turning flushed at the thoughts of him doing them on stage. and yukhei shifts back in time to admire your reaction as his perfectly sculpted eyebrows wiggle up and a smirk graces his face. you lightly swat his chest as he tries to covers his mouth to lower the sound of his loud laughter. “that’s all you get! you have to be surprised!” he says between his giggles through his hand. 

the glare you shoot his direction has you earning another kiss on your cheek. 

“tease,” you tell him before shifting to grab one of the paper bags, ready to show him the final note to dinner. but once you turn around to look at him, you find his hopeful eyes are fixed on you.

“you’ll be there, right?” yukhei prompts, his tone the opposite of how he sounded seconds ago.

you are as much as you can. and even when you can’t, he always comes back to tell you about it and it feels like you had been. you hold out your pinky that has him hooking onto it within seconds. 

“definitely. lightstick and all,” you promise with a beam.

yukhei nods, letting out a breath caught in his throat and smiles widely, satisfied with your response. he gestures to the paper bag still in your grasp. “what is that? do you have more food?” he drops the fries in his hand and takes a drink of his cola.

and you chuckle almost sheepishly, tugging out a small insulated bag and pulling out the cup of ice cream made just for two. “surprise!”

yukhei laughs wondering if this is for him or you because of your love for anything sweet. he takes the cold dessert from your hand and eyes the fruits and the drizzling of condense milk over the strawberry ice cream that is his favorite. 

he feels the tug on his heart.

to the smallest details you pay attention to make yukhei thinks right now you just might be perfect. 

“it shouldn’t be too melted,” you insist, hoping the insulated bag actually works. you take out the two spoons and hand him one.

yukhei takes off the clear plastic lid, the scent of sugar and fruits rise through the air. just the tiniest bit soft the ice cream is as he digs his spoon in to get a little bit of everything. but instead of taking that first bite, yukhei holds out the scoop for you to eat. you grin before opening your mouth for it. the satisfied sound you release when the cold and sweetness hit your tongue has him amused and thinking of all the other times he has heard it. 

and once the ice cream is more than half gone and yukhei doesn’t think he can eat anymore, you take it from his hands with glee. he giggles at your insatiable sweet tooth before he rinses his mouth with the water you bought. he stretches his arms up and drapes it behind you, providing you the nook and extra space to curl into him. 

“i always wonder how it’s really like to be in these rooms. you spend so much time here and i see your lives that it actually feels… weird being in here,” you remark, observing the room.

his life in the practice room yukhei describes to you and you see through a phone screen every once in a while. the hours and sweat put into here you see on him when it’s late and he comes through the door with exhaustion painted on his face and when he’s under the brilliant lights on stage giving everything into a performance. 

your comment has him smiling. “it’s nothing much here,” he tells you because really, it’s not much. 

but still, between his words, you know he’s proud. 

yukhei motions to the floor. “that’s the floor you found me on when you walked in.” he points to the music system next. “that’s where we blast the music that you can hear five doors down.” he moves his finger to the water dispenser in the corner. “that’s the same dispenser we poured the coke in and had cola water for about a week.” he laughs at the memory as you murmur your disbelief before his hand waves to the mirrored walls. “and we have those so we can see how handsome and sexy we are when we are doing our body rolls,” yukhei finishes confidently with a beam. 

his descriptions have you giggling as you angle your head up. yukhei glances down to see the sparkle in your gaze and the faint and flirtatious smile. “i think i like the mirrored walls the best,” you whisper sweetly even if your thoughts about it are not. 

it takes yukhei a few seconds to register what you are saying before he raises an eyebrow. “look who’s being a tease now,” he retorts with his voice deep.

whatever concentration he has to muster up tomorrow to get all the dance steps correct yukhei thinks will be nonexistent now because his mind will be filled with you against those mirrored walls. and right now, how tired he is and how he wants you is a terrible combination. 

still yukhei lowers his head, hoping to erase the space between your mouths even if it is just for a kiss. quickly though you move away and stand up, leaving him in surprise and his lips in the air while you are in fit of light giggles. the wink you throw his way has him clutching his heart and feigning in pain. you turn away from him with a chuckle to walk over to the windows to peak pass the drawn shades, admiring the city night and lights from this high up.  

yukhei sits on the couch though, content to watch you begin to walk around the room and explore while taking the occasional spoonful of the sweet treat still in your hands. even if there is really not much in here, he still loves letting you see his life and sharing all he can with you despite how this night isn’t supposed to go like this. and once you stop at the other side of the room, taking interest in the piano you have seen them play with in their video lives, for the first time of the night yukhei notices it. 

that navy mini dress dotted with the pale pink petals you are wearing, that flows pass your hips to stop mid-thigh and shows off enough legs that makes him chew on the inside of his cheeks, is that one you had worn from your very first date together. 

like the back of his hand yukhei remembers that night. 

he can still recall how nervous he had been because all he wanted was for the night to go well. he can still hear his voice when he had blurted out how pretty you looked when he finally approached you in front of the restaurant. he can still smell the delicate bouquet of mismatched floras because he hadn’t remembered to ask what your favorite was. he can still feel your lips lightly against his warm cheek when you had thanked him to hide your shy face from his eyes. he can still picture every smile and that glimmer in your eyes when you laughed at his stories. and he can still replay it like a scene from a drama when he had finally reached for your hand and how they just seemed to fit together.

so enamored yukhei had been with you that night. 

and even now, he still is.

the way excitement drips in your voice when you talk about something you absolutely love. the way your cheeks heat quickly when he stares at you a minute too long or gives you a compliment because embarrass you still get. the way you always let him know what he does to you feels good so he can do it again. the way you trust him every time he takes your hand and you hold onto him tightly never wanting to let go. 

and as his eyes go from you to the leftover food in front of him, yukhei thinks of how in times like this when annoyed he expects you to be because he forgot. but you surprise him with dinner and still wait to eat with him. 

or how tired you should be because he doesn’t see you as often as you both would like. instead when you do finally see one another, you hug him too tightly and whisper that distance makes the heart fonder and reunions even better. 

yukhei doesn’t know if the universe can ever really understand what he feels for you. 

your fingers lightly press down on the black and white keys, the sound of the piano echoes in the room. you twist around then, in hopes of asking him to join you at the other side for a fun impromptu concert or dance. but what you get is yukhei staring at you. and unlike how he was when you first walked in, happy he looks.

“i am in love with you,” yukhei declares, a soft beam illuminating his face. 

he truly is. 

like the sounds from the piano, the words yukhei says echo in the room and in your heart. 

your face heats up and you bite the corner of your mouth while the butterflies form in your stomach. for a minute you stare at him, wondering if he knows how his words will always affect you. 

you move away from the piano to cross the floor back to him. his smile never disappears but only seems to widen as you get nearer. when you are a few steps away, yukhei holds out a hand for you take. the ice cream you place beside the remaining dinner on the table. your eyes never falter from his as you place your hand in his and he tugs you forward to straddle his lap. 

yukhei brings your enclosed hands to his mouth to press a kiss to your knuckles once and then again. your free hand lifts to affectionately cup his cheek while his goes to the hem of your dress, feeling the material between his fingers before they find their place on your thigh. your position makes him tilt his head a bit up, the lights making the glimmer in his wide eyes so clear. a quiet hum you give him as his hand moves to gently knead your flesh. 

“do you know that?” his question comes out softly in an almost sing song way that makes you unable to fight the breathless laugh coming out. that smile on his face stretches into something almost lovestruck and yukhei feels his cheekbones hurting a little as he repeats again, “i’m in love with you.” 

and yukhei says it as if you don’t know it already. 

but you do.

every time he looks at you with the stars in his eyes. every time he hugs you close and takes a deep breath. and every time he whispers those three words into your ears, you know it and feel it. 

“you’re so cheesy…” your voice trails off while you caress his warm and soft skin.   

you want to tell him more. you want him to know how he has filled your world with so many new experiences and so much wonderments. you want to tell him how in love you are with him too. 

but you don’t know if your voice can uphold to all that though because the way yukhei is looking at you has the warmth blooming in your chest and the sight of him becoming the tiniest bit hazy.

so the only thing you can think to do is bend forward slowly until you catch his mouth in yours. and unlike the enticing kisses when you are tempting him or the tender kisses when he’s about to fall asleep, this one is passionate in hopes that all that you want to say he can feel.

your hand reach for his jawline to tip his head to the position of your desire. his tongue gently swipes across your lips before sliding in. your mouth feels silky and with the added hint of strawberries from the ice cream, yukhei thinks you taste better than the actual dessert of the night.

he lets go of your hand to find its place at the back of your neck and glides his long fingers up to tangle in your hair, cradling your head. the blissful sigh you let out sounds like music to his ears. his touch on your thigh leaves to place at the curve of your waist. his soft grip makes you arch your back while you cup his face with your hand. the notes of citrus from your perfume and the scent vanilla from your body wash surrounding yukhei has him feeling dizzy in the best possible way. 

in between the slick sounds of your wet mouths together, you hear the inhale he takes before he intensifies the kiss a little more. the warmth in your chest spreads to your entire body and the jacket and dress feels too hot to wear. 

you give him a parting suck to his lips before you finally let go. you feel lightheaded as air fights to fill your lungs once more. yet you find yukhei staring intently at you with half lidded eyes and his puffy lips turning into a lazy smile. drunk from your kiss he looks while your face is flushed, the fluttering in your stomach seemingly wanting to stay.

yukhei remains unmoving, his breaths gradually evening out while he mesmerizes your own pair of swollen lips forming the sweet smile. he loves everything he sees in front of him right now. your hands shift for the pads of your thumbs to wipe the mess of your saliva around his mouth. yukhei doesn’t bother wiping his off you though. nor does he try to be subtle as his stare moves from your eyes to your mouth because still so kissable they are him.

“i like kissing you,” yukhei states softly with a pleased grin. 

you feel the heat on your cheeks intensify at his smooth words. and despite how you have wiped the messiness of the kiss off his skin, you shift to give him one more to satiate him. yukhei meets you in the middle to close the gap. 

it’s a gentle brush that moves in slow motion and makes your heartbeat thump a beat quicker in anticipation until he finally closes his plump lips around yours. 

yukhei will kiss you forever if he can. 

a tender nip to your lower lip yukhei leaves before his mouth slowly trails off, grazing your skin until he is able to bury his face into the crook of your neck. he encircles you with his strong arms and inhales deeply.

you let out a laugh that warms his soul, twisting and tugging your squished and trapped arms out from between your bodies. your arms loop around him despite how his hair and eyelashes tickle you and the closeness of your bodies make you still feel too warm. your hand reaches for the nape of his neck to gently scrape your short nails on his skin. closer he hugs your body to press into your touch, clinging onto you like a koala to a tree. 

the irony of this sight if someone is to see this now. how yukhei is inches taller and physically stronger than you in every sense. how he always insists on protecting you and making sure you are okay. but in this moment, all you want to do is to protect him and make sure he is okay.

you wish you can stop time for a little while just to stay like this with him. your head turns the slightest until you are able to place a kiss to his temple.

“i love you,” you whisper softly against his skin. 

and you tell him as if he has forgotten. 

but he hasn’t. 

his embrace around you tightens, your words making him feel like he’s the luckiest in the world. your touch begins to gently run up and down the expanse of his back, soothing the tired muscles. the quiet breaths he hears from you are calming his thoughts and lulling him.

yukhei wonders if any words can ever be enough for you because sometimes, he thinks there might not be. no words he thinks might ever be able to fully encompass what he feels for you, how he feels for you. 

his lips pucker against your neck. 

“i love you more,” he murmurs, his voice warm and deep. 

until he can find those words, yukhei will tell you that. 

a faint smile ghosting on his face you feel even if you are unable to see it. the small space you close between your heads when you rest yours against his. yukhei cannot help but let his eyes flutter shut. the touch you have on him feels too soothing and so good after everything today. he wishes he can teleport and be in a bed now. he wishes  the world will stop turning so he can rest with you.

“if you keep doing that, i might fall asleep right here,” yukhei mumbles into the peacefulness of the room. 

so sleepy he sounds and you think you would let him be if he does fall asleep right now. instead a soft hum you give him as your movements gradually slows down but never stops.

“what time is your schedule tomorrow?” you gently ask him.

silent yukhei remains for a minute until he lets out a breath.

“i have a fitting in the morning,” he mutters but you hear him clearly. he pauses then, trying to remember the schedule that had been presented to him hours ago. “and afterwards there’s another interview and a recording and then practice.” until late he wants to add but doesn’t.

another kiss yukhei bestows upon your skin before he slowly lifts his head. his arms around you loosens but he never lets them drop as he leans back the slightest into the couch. you hold his face in your hand as the other you place on his chest, fingering the worn material of his shirt. his stare he keeps steady to yours when his head turns to press a kiss into the palm of your hand.

“when promotions are over and after the tour, i’ll make it up-” for a second time of the night you silence yukhei with your lips to his. soft and sweet just like him the kiss is.

you don’t want him feeling the guilt over this anymore. even if this is not the night originally planned, you are happy just like this with burgers and strawberry ice cream because you are with him. 

when you pull back with a final peck to his mouth, you give yukhei a soft beam that has his heart wanting to burst. he will make it up to you even when you tell him he doesn’t have to. his nose he affectionately brushes against yours.

“it’s late. are you ready to go?” because much needed rest he needs for tomorrow. you angle your head, tenderly smoothing his hair. “i’ll drive you back to the dorm,” you whisper.

yukhei offers you a short nod. “i’ll leave a little early and get back to the dorm before we’re supposed to leave for the fitting.” his hand covers yours on his chest, fingers closing around it. “i just want to go home tonight.” 

and it takes you a second until you understand what he truly means, feeling your heart melting.

the dorms yukhei stays when he is doing promotions and the schedule is too hectic and too long that sometimes he forgets what day it is.

but with you in the tiny apartment with the shared bedroom, with his green toothbrush besides your pink one in the bathroom and the strip of photobooth pictures of funny faces and kisses is taped on the refrigerator door is where yukhei considers his home. the extra thirty minutes of sleep he will lose from the traveling. but the thought of holding you for a little longer, of hearing your breaths beside him calming him to sleep and waking up next to you and giving you a parting kiss before he heads to work makes it worth it. 

“i like the sound of that,” you murmur almost shyly, face warming once more. 

yukhei sees the sparkle in your eyes you can’t hide.

your lips connect to his for a short kiss before you carefully unfold your legs, feeling your muscles stretch for the first time in a while. yukhei keeps a hand on your waist when your feet touch the floor. you turn, your hand you offer to him to hold as you giggle and give him a little pull up and off the couch. 

yukhei stretches, his long arms extending as high as they can go towards the ceiling. you turn towards the table, the leftover dinner you sort through to make the small pile to bring back home and eventually eat. yukhei throws on his flannel and pushes back his hair. he makes sure the couch is free of crumbs before helping you clean up.

once the mess is cleared and the take home food is placed into the bags, you quickly scan around to make sure nothing is left behind. yukhei gently hangs your bag over your shoulder and feels for his phone in his pocket. he takes the food from you to take your hand, fingers linking tightly together. he shuts off the light and closes the door behind him. the short walk to the elevator at the end of the hall is silent, but he doesn’t mind. 

as you wait and watch the numbers change to your floor, yukhei glances down when you cover up your unexpected yawn. he bends to press a kiss to your forehead, his lips staying pressed to your skin seconds longer than usual. you fix your eyes up at him when he pulls back, your face warming at his gesture. on his face is a smile that is wide and adoring while his large eyes shine under the bright hallway lights. 

“thank you,” he says because all the words spoken tonight, yukhei believes he has not said that to you yet. 

forever grateful he is for you.

the elevator dings and the doors open. yukhei moves first with your steps following him into the metal box. the ground floor he presses once the doors close, the descend beginning your journey home together. you give a gentle tug to his hand, making yukhei look at you. 

you tiptoe and return a kiss to his cheek with your lips staying in place for seconds longer too before you step back to find his gaze. 

“anytime,” you whisper with a smile.

because for him, you will over and over again.

[bao3bei4]

i have basically covered the material in this post several times on my twitter. but this is, in my opinion, the only s*xy t*mes with w*ngxian take you need. 

(cw transphobia, transphobic slurs, antiblack racism, mentions of csa and bestiality in fiction)

edit 6/10/21: hi! i’m realizing people are still reading this! this was written in response to aja romano’s vox article on the fic that was published in late february of this year. i had been frustrated with how their article seemed to miss the point in many ways, because they never talked about the substance of the fic. which, i mean, fair. i wouldn’t want to read a 1million word fic either.

but i already had, so i thought i’d write about some things that i believed needed to be part of the conversation. namely, that its author wasn’t a harmless troll, but a person i genuinely disliked who i believed should be deplatformed.

i think virtual1979 is a bad person. 

i think a lot of people mainly know about sexy times the phenomenon more than they do sexy times the fic itself. i have the dubious honor of being one of the few people who has actually read large portions of the million word fic, and that’s why i wanted to write this meanspirited hit piece. 

the fic is down right now and the author’s notes and comments have both been deleted, which is why i cannot provide screenshots. however, these are all quotes i have saved from when the fic was online, and i’m happy to talk with anyone if you feel any of these quotes are mischaracterizations of the fic. 

i also want to be clear this is not a “callout post” and i’m not trying to “cancel” them or whatever. i am just explaining why i don’t like them, why i don’t feel bad they’re being harassed, and why i do not find them sympathetic at all, and perhaps why you should also adopt these stances. 

let’s start with transphobia. 

sexy times with wangxian is transphobic. this much is apparent from the tags. virtual1979 tagged the following: F*tanari, d*ckgirl, Sh*male. they use this language in the chapters that include a character with both a vagina and a penis. 

they refer to this character (wei wuxian) with the pronouns “he-she.” the following excerpt is a fair representation of how this wei wuxian is referred to in the chapters where wei wuxian has a vagina and a penis. 

[Lan Zhan] would never be turned on by a female, and he would actually be turned off by a drag queen - but this… this Wei Ying, it’s Wei Ying, and he-she looks [...]

i know these words are common in porn categories, but they are also slurs. virtual1979 also uses hermaphrodite to refer to this set of anatomy, which is not strictly a slur, but definitely a stigmatizing choice of language. 

they have repeatedly made clear they are not open to criticism. they have also since removed the comment section. making an intersex character for the express purpose of using transmisogynistic language towards them in your million word porn fic isn’t annoying the way their tags are, it’s actively fucked up. 

fanfiction has a transphobia problem, and if we’re talking about sexy times with wangxian in any capacity, we must be clear: sexy times with wangxian is part of that problem too. 

secondly, virtual1979 is also complicit in ao3’s racism problem.

i think the way they write about chinese characters and settings is annoying and racist, but they are a malaysian chinese person, so i do have some sympathy for them. i am committed to having some patience for people who are annoying if they themselves are working through the prejudice they have faced. 

they’ve commented as much: 

Not gonna lie, this fic has been a steep learning curve for me despite my roots being Chinese as well, but I have absolutely zero knowledge in some of these aspects!

and i’m happy on some level they can get in touch with their roots. who among us has not been cringe and diaspora. any criticisms i have of their portrayal of chinese people will stay private and be made to other people of color.

i’m going to be clear here i don’t think the actual comment they made makes them super evil or anything. but this essay IS clearly in response to That Article, which did mention racism in fandom. so.

i think we have all seen the infamous karen comment they made, in which they compared people who criticized their tagging with “Karens,” equating antiblack state violence to... mean comments on ao3? and “SJWs,” which, eye roll. no ageism but you’re 41 why the hell are you complaining about sjws

anyway. i am deeply frustrated by the co-option of the word karen. a stand-in for a particular type of racist violence white women specifically can and do inflict has become fused with that reddit-type mommy issue “can i speak to the manager” internecine white resentment. 

so their trivialization of antiblack racism is another reason i don’t like them. again i KNOW it’s petty to point this out here, but this to me shows that virtual is afflicted with the same kind of fandom brainrot that aja is, where everything comes back to that same sort of self-centered bullshit. 

sorry for that jab. julian told me that aja thought that cql was about callout culture and all i could think was “wow! just like virtual thinking that--” because i also have spent too much time on twitter this week. 

this is just like. part of this ongoing pattern i’ve noticed with virtual, where they’re aware enough of real problems to acknowledge they exist (police violence, accessibility issues caused by their tagging) but are determined to double down on their minor relative persecution as king, shittily drawing parallels between like... real problems and fandom problems. equating the two or allowing the second to take priority over the former is like... par for the course for this type of person! 

third, this is just another clarification on more parallels between ao3 discourse and sexy times that went completely unremarked on by That Article. 

i would rather DIE than get into discourse. but why did they write this sentence: 

Lan Zhan’s rational mind finally broke with a tsunami of pedophilic lusts [...]

by the way that is the start of a 430 word sentence. and yes this fic does contain hundreds of thousands of words of aged down wei wuxian. make of that what you will. 

also why would you make wei wuxian teach baby chickens how to sexually pleasure him. do you hate these characters. what’s going on. i think mxtx should be able to sue virtual for that one. 

there’s a very obvious connection between mainstream ao3 discourse and sexy times that went completely unremarked on in That Article. sexy times contains multitudes and some of those multitudes are bestiality and explicit childfucking. 

this is not unrelated to fannish culture, they are not unfamiliar with fannish norms, blah blah blah. this is just normal fandom. they’re not subverting shit, they’re just a normal fan who unlike 99% of fanfiction writers on twitter, spends more time writing than posting. this has taken their fannish tendencies to cartoonish heights. 

finally, they don’t care about mdzs or wangxian. they’re literally just horny and spiteful that’s it. this isn’t a question of like... “ohh they were a good faith participant in fandom until they went joker mode” and the REAL villain is society/ao3. like no they wanted to write shitty porn, and when they found out they were annoying people, they decided to double down because they could be the main character of the mdzs ao3 tag every time they found a spare hour to write. 

here are some select receipts on that topic:

they do not care about canon: 

MDZS has quite a complicated and expansive plot and history, and enough content that one can choose to tune out certain parts and still get to the end of the story in one piece. Also, because of its source, some fans may not fully realize the nuances, cultural aspects (ooh, cultural appropriation is another triggering topic) or the full breadth and depth of the source material, such as a person like me, who is half-baked in terms of knowing what the canon universe is all about. So I end up playing with characters and settings technically borrowed from the story, and make them do things that would otherwise run counter to the original source material - and that draws quite some flak from those opinionated people I mentioned just now. It's part of what makes the fandom toxic. It's like they're the self-appointed guardians of the source material and they act like they own the rights to question such questionble fanworks, and dare I say, try to take down those that cross certain lines too.

they are just horny: 

After that giddines of extra drunken Lan Wang Ji scenes at the beginning, I'm blessed with Lan Wang Ji (Wang Yibo's, actually) fuzzy nips! Bless Bless Bless, and Amen! muahs the nips on the screen

anyway they did get nuked over wishing covid on people. 

so yeah. i want to be really clear. this is my thesis: i do not feel bad for them. you should not either. i do not like them. you should not either. that’s ALL!!!! 

[artificialqueens]

Me and You Together, 3/10 (Taywhora) - Ortega

fic summary: The cardinal rule of having flatmates is that you Do Not Catch Feelings For Your Flatmates, because everything inevitably goes to shit and gets made horrifically awkward. A’whora and Tayce both know this, but being in first year of uni and making good decisions have never really gone hand in hand.

a/n: again, fucking bowled over by the love and support this has had so far. i cannot thank any of u enough, ur all absolute wee diamonds in the sky. hope u enjoy this one- we’re in January for this one, where the girls have to deal with the consequences of December…and Tayce is tasked with keeping a secret for Lawrence.

last chapter: September- On a damp, bright Saturday in September, six flatmates move into their student flat and meet for the first time.

this chapter: January- Tayce and A’whora still have unfinished business from a night out and a hungover morning in December. But it’s only awkward if they make it awkward…right?

***

Tayce is pretty sure she’s going to combust if something doesn’t happen soon.

It’s been a month and a week since A’whora kissed her, and twenty-four hours shorter than that since Tayce kissed her in return. Or thereabouts, it’s not like she’s counting. It’s not like it’s been consuming her every thought every waking moment of the day or anything.

In all fairness, Tayce seems like it’s an achievement to think about a kiss for that length of time. Especially through her first semester essay deadlines, Ellie’s raucous eighteenth, her first Christmas back home, her first New Year seeing all her old school friends after uni and updating Cheryl and Cara on everything. She’d drunkenly come out to Cheryl too after being gently encouraged and supported by Cara, and they’d both cried as Cheryl held her and confessed that since uni had started she’d also begun seeing a girl she really liked too.

It’s funny how at uni everybody seems so much more free. Away from a stifling hometown, Tayce and her friends can properly spread their wings and be who they’ve always been but have either not realised it or been afraid to show it. Tayce is the happiest she’s ever been when she’s at the flat with the others in her little bubble of a home away from home, with Bimini’s intelligent insights and Tia’s funny quips, Lawrence’s chaos and Ellie’s kindness and A’whora being…well, her best friend.

Except she’s not really sure that best friends kiss each other like that.

But maybe they do, because since they’ve all come back from home after Christmas A’whora hasn’t mentioned the kisses, as if nothing out of the ordinary has happened between them. Hasn’t even joked about it with her or in front of the others (which is fair enough, as if Lawrence knew she’d probably tease them about it until they graduated). Tayce is pretty sure that none of the others even know, or at least if they do they’ve not spoken about it.

And the worst part is that A’whora has been absolutely…normal. Fine.

See, Tayce could’ve dealt with any awkwardness- she’d be upfront, bluntly ask A’whora if she wants to forget about it or what she wants the plan for them to be. Even better would’ve been if A’whora had rugby-tackled her the moment she’d got back from Wales and smothered her with kisses, told her how much she’d been thinking about her while they’d both been away. Tayce supposes it’s kind of her fault they never properly talked about it since she’d practically bolted out of A’whora’s room when she’d kissed her that morning, but she’d been nervous in case she’d made everything too weird. A’whora hadn’t seemed to be complaining at the time, though.

In fact that night, A’whora had been up for plenty more than just a drunk kiss. If Tayce thinks about everything she’d said when they were walking home her face still gets hot and she has to squeeze her thighs together. She’s definitely glad they never crossed any of those particular lines when they’d both been drinking, but sometimes when she’s lying in bed at night Tayce lets her hands drift between her legs as she thinks about A’whora telling her how much and for how long she’d wanted her.

Best friends definitely don’t do that.

So Tayce feels guilty spending time with just A’whora these days, the fact that things haven’t been awkward between them somehow being worse than if they were. She’s not been avoiding her per sé, she’s just been finding ways to make sure it’s very rarely the two of them alone together: hanging out in the kitchen with everyone instead of in her room, going to bed when the others do instead of staying up with A’whora, inviting the others to anything A’whora suggests the two of them do together. It’s silly, and Tayce does miss spending time alone with her, but A’whora acting like nothing’s happened while conversely Tayce wants everything to happen hurts her embarrassingly more than she’d care to admit.

Such a time is a lazy Sunday afternoon halfway through the shittiest month of the year, when the weather outside is full of misty rain that’s a recipe for frizzy hair, puddles, and misery. Just to add to the rubbish day Tayce is holed up in her room, watching the grey clouds drift and overlap over each other to create a paint colour chart in the sky as she begins an essay that’s due in a mere five days. It’s been hard to focus on anything when her head is full of her best friend and imaginary scenarios but the prospect of an all-nighter isn’t one that’s particularly desirable either, so she and the ninety-five words she’s written so far are engaged in a stand-off as Tayce waits for the essay to write itself and the word document waits for her brain cells to conjure up any more opinions on “Is art a conveyor of emotion?” (4000 words).  

And then there’s a knock on the door that doesn’t wait for permission to enter and A’whora bounces in. She’s in a pair of grey joggers and a baggy navy pyjama top that she’s tucked in at the waist and rolled up the sleeves of, and her hair is up in a bun that’s had approximately 5% effort put into it apart from the little diamante hair clasp she’s slid through it at the top.

In spite of herself, Tayce can’t help but snort when she sees her. “Only you could make your shitty potato loungewear fashion.”

“Shut up! This is haute couture. This is actually my final project for the semester,” A’whora jokes in return, moves to sit at the foot of her bed and pout at her. “Tayyyce. I’m boreddd.”

Tayce raises an eyebrow at A’whora’s whining from over her laptop screen. “And I’m doing this essay. Find someone else to bug.”

“Don’t be such a hound,” A’whora frowns, falling sideways and landing onto the bed so she’s hugging Tayce’s legs through the duvet, her head resting on her shins. “I’d annoy Ellie but she’s in town with one of her friends from home. C’mon, let’s do a movie day. We’ve not had one in ages. I feel like we’ve barely had any time together since you got back.”

“Just been trying to catch up on all my coursework. It’s not personal,” she lies, her heart sinking only the tiniest bit at the realisation that her attempts at staying out of A’whora’s way have obviously been louder than they’ve been subtle.

“Please?” A’whora bats her lashes, and if it was impossible to say no to her before it’s surely illegal to do so now.

Tayce sighs and closes her laptop, eliciting a smile from the other girl. “Fine. Fine! But you better ask the others, I don’t want them feeling left out.”

It’s a good spur-of-the-moment excuse to make sure Tayce doesn’t have to spend two hours cuddled up next to A’whora while her heart hurts, but she’s confused by the way a small look of something passes over A’whora’s expression. She can’t put her finger on what it is, but A’whora’s agreeing and bounding down to the living room before Tayce can figure it out.

Tayce throws on her dressing gown over her clothes before leaving her room to join her, the blue fluffy one with the narwhal hood that’s complete with a horn on the top. She doesn’t own many embarrassing items of clothing, but this is definitely one of them. It doesn’t matter too much, though. A’whora’s seen her in it before, when she’s been hungover or sad or hangry and on her period.

It’s so funny how she can only have known her five months and still feel closer to her than half of the friends she spent six years with at high school.

In the kitchen, A’whora’s already cheerfully getting organised as Bimini and Lawrence lounge on the sofa lazily. Tia’s not in either- it emerges she’s gone round to Veronica’s, which nobody’s surprised about.

“Main question is, what’re we watching?” Bimini asks. “It’s a lazy Sunday so it can’t be anything that’s too good. I want something I can rip the piss out of while I watch it, y’know?”

There’s some squabbling about film choices as A’whora makes popcorn in the microwave, burns it, then subsequently has to make another packet. It’s eventually decided that they’re going to watch Love Actually despite the fact it’s January, because they all either hate it or like it because of how bad it is and the film will simply be a vehicle for them to yell jokes over.

“Have we got anything to drink? We could make this into like…a day drinking situation,” Lawrence suggests casually.

“You’re not helping the stereotype that all Scottish people are alcoholics at all,” A’whora quips, causing Tayce to let out a too-loud laugh.

“Listen, if you’ve not figured out that I’m a walking talking stereotype by now, A’whora, are we even friends?” Lawrence shoots back, and A’whora shrugs in an unspoken fair enough.

Tayce tilts her head then remembers something. “I actually still have loads of canned cocktails in my suitcase that my Mum got me for Christmas. Haven’t unpacked them yet. Think there’s about…twelve?”

“Ooh, three each? That’s alright!” Bimini smiles, clearly buoyed by the prospect of being slightly tipsy in the middle of the afternoon.

“Right, that’s settled then. I’ll go get them,” Tayce decides. A’whora’s crossing the kitchen before she knows it.

“I’ll help you with them.”

Before Tayce can speak, Bimini gives a snort. “ ‘Ow much do you think canned cocktails weigh, exactly?”

As Lawrence bursts into peals of laughter, Tayce watches as A’whora rolls her eyes at them, then turns on her heel to follow her to her room. Tayce can’t help but be a little wary, though. It does kind of seem like A’whora’s trying to get her on her own, which Tayce wouldn’t mind if she knew where she was coming from. But she doesn’t.

Tayce kneels down onto the floor as she rolls her suitcase out from under the bed, chatting mindlessly as she does so because if she’s talking it means A’whora doesn’t have a chance to bring up whatever she clearly wants to bring up. “I think there’s actually eleven here, you know. Because, uh…I think I drank one of them while I was at home, so we’re gonna need to fight over who gets one less. I don’t fancy my chances in a fight against Lawrence, she’d probably give me…what’s that expression? A Glasgow kiss? She’d give me one of those. Although Bimini, what do you think they’d be like in a fight? You know I think they’ve secretly got a set of knuckledusters, they seem the type. Although when I think about it-”

“Tayce,” A’whora cuts in, forcing her to snap her head up. Her expression is troubled, and a little frown dips on her forehead as she looks at her. “What’s wrong? Why are you being so…I don’t know, weird? Like you want to get rid of me?”

Tayce feels ashamed for being called out on her behaviour, and she can feel her stomach drop as she looks back at the cans in her otherwise empty suitcase. She wants to tell her there’s a reason for the way she’s been acting but A’whora beats her to the punch, murmuring with her head down and not meeting Tayce’s eyes.

“Is this because we kissed?”

“A’whora…” Tayce immediately groans in exasperation, the heat rushing to her cheeks as if she’s been slapped. She’s embarrassed, because she knows she’s got the capacity to talk about this like a grown-up but there’s a part of her that’s cringing, because if A’whora’s about to tell her she regrets it then she’s not sure she’ll ever live it down.

There’s a small silence where neither of them seem to move, let alone speak. A’whora is yet again the one to break it. “I just feel like you hate me all of a sudden.”

Fuck. If there was one thing Tayce had wanted to avoid, it’s this. Even though she herself is hurting she can’t bear the thought of having hurt A’whora’s feelings too, so she frowns, reaches up and squeezes A’whora’s hand which prompts her to look at Tayce. “I don’t hate you, Rory, of course I don’t hate you. I just…”

Tayce looks up to the ceiling as she searches for the right words, even though she’s not really sure what they are. She wants to tell A’whora she’s yearning for something to happen again between them and that even the fact she’s holding her hand is setting her pulse off all too quickly, but now’s not the right time. Besides, she doesn’t even know if A’whora feels the same way. Either way, Tayce can hear A’whora holding her breath, can feel the way her body’s tense beside her, so Tayce finally formulates something that doesn’t sound too hot or too cold.

“…I just don’t know where we go from here, that’s all.”

A’whora visibly relaxes, then shrugs. Her voice is quiet as she speaks. “Well, it’s only awkward if we make it awkward. And I feel like I’ve been okay at not making it awkward?”

Tayce narrows her eyes at her, laughs. “So what you’re saying is it’s all my fault.”

“Yes.”

The pair of the giggle softly and things already seem to have shifted back into comfortable territory. The green of a spring bulb popping up through the snow.

Tayce swallows her not-inconsiderable pride and smiles up at A’whora. She supposes going back to being friends and not ever talking about the fact that they kissed again is better than existing in a tense purgatory for the rest of their time in the flat together, even if it does make her feel a little sinking feeling of disappointment and a sense of mourning what could’ve been. “I’m sorry for being such a…mingebag.”

A’whora cracks up, repeats “mingebag!” incredulously, before her laughter dies down and she gives Tayce’s hand a squeeze in return. “That’s okay. Just good to know you still like me.”

They share a soft smile before piling the cocktails high in their arms, cradling them as if they’re babies as they rush back through to the living room where Bimini and Lawrence are hanging up a huge white sheet on the wall opposite the sofa for the projector. The projector had been Tia’s addition to the flat, an AliExpress purchase that had turned out to not be broken, or unusable, or made for a doll’s house.

“Tia won’t mind us borrowing that, will she?” A’whora asks with concern. Lawrence scoffs, bats a hand in her direction dismissively.

“She’ll be too mouth-deep in Veronica to care when she realises we’ve used it, let’s not lie!”

There’s a cry of disgust at Lawrence’s turn of phrase from the others, and as Tayce sets up the cocktails on the little coffee table A’whora brings the bowl of popcorn through.

“It’s fun to be able to make jokes about Tia and her girl, in’t it?” Bimini chuckles good-naturedly. “Always feel like we can’t properly tease her when Ellie’s there ‘cause she always looks like she’s about to jump out the window any time we mention Veronica’s name.”

The revelation that Ellie has feelings for Tia had come via a drunken, tearful confession to the others the night of her eighteenth birthday, when Tia had left the party with Veronica instead of staying overnight at the flat. Poor Ellie had been so devastatingly upset that the others had seemed to forge an unspoken agreement that the situation wasn’t going to be fodder for flat jokes. Instead they make sure to ask Tia how her budding relationship is going when Ellie isn’t around.

As she and A’whora laugh in agreement at Bimini’s joke, Tayce doesn’t miss the way Lawrence grows uncharacteristically quiet.

“When d’you think Ellie will get over Tia? I mean it’s a shame she doesn’t like her back, but she’ll ‘ave to at some point.”

“She won’t. She’ll just pine after her every day until we graduate,” Lawrence says. It’s meant to be a joke but her delivery is somewhat flat, and Tayce wonders if she’s the only one that picks up on it. From the way A’whora and Bimini are laughing, it appears she has been.  

Bimini and Lawrence step back from the sheet, satisfied with the job they’ve done. A’whora’s busy plugging in the fairy lights Ellie strung up where the wall meets the ceiling a few months ago, and Tayce can’t help but think to herself that sacking off her essay was a good idea as she glances at their setup. Never let it be said that their flat does things by halves.

“Oh! We should bring duvets through. And blankets,” A’whora suggests, and Tayce’s heart is both warmed and hurt by how adorably enthusiastic she is about the whole endeavour. She wishes she could shake the lingering feeling of disappointment she’s got in her gut at the knowledge that they’ll probably never talk about their kiss again; they’ve moved on from it, it was a one-time thing, and it’s only awkward if they make it awkward so Tayce bringing it up would be awkward, right?

So she settles on the sofa with Lawrence while Bimini helps A’whora gather up all their pillows, cushions, blankets and duvets from their respective rooms. Tayce is about to become lost in her own head when Lawrence turns to her with a look in her eyes that Tayce has never seen before. It’s almost conspiratorial and definitely suspicious, and for one horrific moment Tayce is convinced that Lawrence knows everything that happened in December.

“What is it?” Tayce asks her, before her flatmate can even open her mouth. Lawrence sighs, tips her head back to the head of the sofa and squeezes her eyes shut.

“I need to tell you a secret.”

Tayce’s heart drops as if she’s on a rollercoaster. Her mind immediately jumps to A’whora. What’s she told her? What does Lawrence know? It would make sense to wait until A’whora was out of the room before telling her anything. Tayce tries to keep her face impassive as she turns to Lawrence, nods quietly. “Okay, spill.”

“You can’t tell anyone, Tayce,” Lawrence insists, looking at her pleadingly. Tayce promises she won’t, although in retrospect she probably should’ve asked what it was first. The way Lawrence is acting is intriguing, though. It makes Tayce think it’s something about herself if it’s something she doesn’t want the others to know so badly.

“Christ, this is so cringe,” Lawrence groans, dropping her head forward and resting it in her hands. Tayce can still see the pink flush that’s started to dust her face, and by now she’s convinced that this has nothing to do with A’whora and everything to do with Lawrence herself.

Lawrence mutters out something incoherent into her hands. Tayce frowns, humoured. “What?”

A huge huff comes from the girl on the sofa beside her, and as she removes her hands from the front of her face she sticks them to the side of it like blinkers on a horse. It’s the quietest Tayce has ever heard Lawrence speak as she says the secret again. “I’ve got a crush on Ellie.”

Tayce’s face lights up at her friend’s confession. “Do you actually?”

“Christ, don’t make me say it twice. I’ll get struck down.”

Tayce leans into Lawrence, uses both her hands to lightly poke her in the arm. “Look at you! Being cute and having feelings!”

“It’s not, though! It’s not cute at all! It’s just sad!” Lawrence rolls her eyes, shaking her head at the same time. “Because she doesn’t…she’ll never see me like that, and she’s too busy making cow-eyes at Tia all the time anyway, so. It’s pointless, I don’t even know why I’m even hoping for something to happen.”

“Hey, listen! How long do you think Ellie’s gonna be able to keep moaning about Tia when she’s still seeing Veronica? I mean there’s only one way that relationship is going, the only ‘end’ there is in ‘girlfriend’. So Ellie’s gonna have to get over it eventually!” Tayce says supportively, shaking Lawrence’s arm to gee her up. Lawrence bats her away, though, giving another sigh.

“Tayce, it’s not exactly like she’s gonnae suddenly realise that I’ve been here all along! Like some fuckin’ chick flick. I’ve fancied her for years,” Lawrence explains. The information knocks Tayce for six, but when she thinks about it it makes sense- the way Lawrence gently bullies her so much, the way she gravitates towards her all the time, the way she gets quiet if Ellie starts moping about Tia. Tayce had never thought about it in that light before.

Lawrence hugs her knees to her chest as she continues. “Realised I liked her the last time we were at the caravan. And obviously we were at opposite sides of the country but like…I’d still meet up with her in Summer, get the train to Dundee and have sleepovers and all that shite. And when she came into the kitchen on that first day I was so happy she was gonnae be living with us, and I am still happy, because obviously she’s my friend? But like…it’s just shite to know that she’ll never like me back.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Ellie’s type is obviously tall, dark and skinny. Which…” Lawrence gestures at herself with a deprecative laugh. “…how can I be any of that?”

“Right, for a start! Stop thinking about what you’re not and start thinking about what you are,” Tayce says firmly, gripping her hand tightly.

Lawrence rolls her eyes and fixes her with a pointed stare. “Oh, like what? I’m beautiful on the inside! I know I’m the fat funny friend, Tayce, you can spare me the bullshit.”

“Well…you’re fat, and so fucking what of it? Doesn’t mean you aren’t drop-dead-fuckin’ gorgeous. Being fat and being beautiful aren’t mutually exclusive.”

“Very easy for you to say, sat there wearing size eights. Tell that to literally any piece of media we consume. Or any of my brain cells. Even if there are only about ten of them,” Lawrence sighs, then pauses. “I do like the way I look, and I don’t want to change anything about myself. It’s just…several things make that very hard almost all of the time, and it’s tiring to feel like you’re constantly fighting a losing battle. And it’s not like I’m pinning all my self-worth on a girl liking me back, but just…it would be nice to be the one that someone has a crush on for a change, if that makes sense?”

Before Tayce can say anything to affirm how Lawrence is feeling, a movement from down the hall makes her flinch and point at Tayce accusingly. “Not a fucking word, right? Least of all to A’whora, if she knows then I might as well just tell Ellie myself and like fuck is that happening.”

Tayce nods rapidly in a promise as A’whora and Bimini emerge from the hall comedically draped in materials, like a child’s attempt at a dress made out of knitting and featherdown quilts. They all set about arranging everything to make their setup as comfy as possible, and as the film gets loaded up they get comfortable in their respective positions. Lawrence is at one end of the sofa, with Tayce in the middle and A’whora at her side, while Bimini sits on the floor with their back to the sofa because they’re quite happy sitting there with enough cushions and pillows. The big lights are turned off, the film begins, and the room is filled with the soft glow of the fairy lights and the hazy light from the movie and all Tayce can think about is A’whora, warm and soft and squashed up beside her sharing the blanket.  

Tayce feels silly for being so disappointed. This was what she’d wanted- they’d talked about it. They’d addressed the fact that the kiss had happened, and now they were just…moving forward. Not making things awkward. Because obviously to A’whora, the fact it’s happened has made things awkward.

And that shouldn’t hurt Tayce as much as it does.

It’s hard to dwell on things for long, though, when she has block four flat ten’s very own Ant and Dec in her living room. Lawrence and Bimini keep her and A’whora giggling pretty much from the film’s first scene, and they all fall about screech-laughing when Bimini forces them to pause it on a shot of Liam Neeson’s hall in which there’s a horrific blob of a child’s painting on the wall that looks so cursed they just had to point it out.

It’s probably because Lawrence and Bimini are distracting her that Tayce doesn’t initially notice A’whora leaning into her at first until she’s pressed up against Tayce’s side. This isn’t anything out of the ordinary. They’ve always sat close before, but this time things feel different. This time it feels as if there’s little sparks of electricity between them, metaphorical manifestations of the anticipation Tayce feels of something she’s yearning to happen.    

So when A’whora bumps her knuckles against Tayce’s, brings her hand over hers and laces their fingers together, Tayce feels as if she’s suddenly evolved into some ridiculous cartoon character; she can practically feel her eyes bulge out of their sockets in shock and she has to stop her jaw from dropping onto the floor. If her heart could comedically fly out of its chest it would. Tayce keeps her gaze steady and focused on the film, blocking out her peripheral vision and not even turning to see if A’whora’s looking at her too. Because if she is it would make everything ten times worse (better?) than it currently is, and Tayce’s head is already in a spin. They’ve held hands before. It’s not like this is different.

But it is. Before they hadn’t kissed. Before A’whora hadn’t told Tayce she wanted to sleep with her. Before all of Tayce’s feelings for her friend were cooped up into neat little boxes in her mind that were so full they were close to bursting, but now they have and now it’s After and so holding A’whora’s hand has gone from usual to extraordinary, routine to electric.  

Tayce hopes A’whora can’t feel the way her pulse is racing because that’ll definitely let her know something is up.

She’s suddenly startled out of her overthinking by a tut of disapproval from Lawrence. “How many fuckin’ couples are in this film and there’s not one single lesbian?”  

“Lesbians didn’t exist in 2003, remember?” Bimini deadpans, causing A’whora to giggle.

“Yeah, lesbians were invented in 2013 when Orange is the New Black aired.”

“Nah! When did Sugar Rush come out? Mind that programme on Channel 4? I remember watching that through a crack in the living room door when my parents thought I’d gone to bed,” Lawrence recounds excitedly, her enthusiasm at remembering her lesbian awakening making Tayce laugh and relate at the same time.

“For me it was Sophie and Sian. Remember on Coronation Street? They were my first lesbians.”

“At least you all got representation at some stage. If I wanted to see another pan I’d have to watch fuckin’…Kitchen Nightmares,” Bimini rolls their eyes, their joke making the girls howl with laughter and let out cries of consolation.

And then A’whora squeezes Tayce’s hand under the blanket.

Tayce thinks only for a second before squeezing it back, and subsequently doesn’t think before turning and looking at her friend beside her. A’whora shoots her a little smile that if Tayce didn’t know better she’d say was innocent, but the twinkle in her eye and the way she shuffles herself to lean closer against her and tuck her other hand into the crook of Tayce’s elbow makes her heart give a judder like she’s been crashed into from behind.

She supposes it’s only awkward if she makes things awkward, just like A’whora said. So when Tayce gently strokes A’whora’s hand with her thumb, it’s only to illustrate to A’whora that things aren’t weird between them. It’s not to see how the other girl is going to react to that at all. It’s not because being affectionate with A’whora just feels correct and perfect, the easiest thing in the world.

Tayce is holding her breath waiting for A’whora to do something else. Something to raise her hopes, something to show her that maybe she does want something to happen between them again. She wants the film to go on forever and give them infinite time in this no-man’s-land of comfortable tension, because when it ends she knows A’whora will probably just get up from under the blanket and slip away as if everything is back to normal.

When A’whora lets go of her hand, Tayce feels her hopes drop into the pit of her stomach, a rollercoaster coming to a dead stop. The ride is over.

But a second later she wraps her arm around Tayce’s waist, squeezes her close in a hug, and the ride begins all over again. Tayce’s heart rate spikes as she shifts a little, getting comfortable before bringing her arm around A’whora’s middle too and holding her right back.

It’s then that Lawrence’s voice makes Tayce snap her head away from the film, her glazed-over eyes having to focus on her friend who’s regarding her with a raised eyebrow. “Fuck’s going on under that blanket? You two fingering each other?”  

Bimini snaps their head up and yells as Tayce tries to conceal the wave of panic that hits her, rolls her eyes and shakes her head and tells Lawrence that she needs to get her mind out the gutter. She’s sure that being called out will make A’whora flinch away, a woodland animal startled by a twig breaking, but she just giggles and buries her face into Tayce’s side all bashful.

God, Tayce wants to kiss her so much.

The film reaches the scene where Emma Thompson cries in her bedroom to Joni Mitchell, and the sniffing from the floor indicates she’s not the only one.

“Bimini! You said you hated this film!” Tayce laughs, nudging her friend with her foot.

“Yeah, but anyone who doesn’t cry at this scene is a hard-hearted bastard,” they reply, voice thick with emotion.

“Aww, BonBon. It’s okay, I’ve got a little tear as well,” A’whora murmurs from Tayce’s side. She huffs a sigh. “I can’t even believe anyone would fall for that pencil-skirt-wearing cow. I mean, she fucking manspreads and that’s supposed to be some sort of sexy come-on?”

“Aw, and like you could do any better?! We’ve all seen you trying to flirt, it’s embarrassing!” Lawrence cries in outrage.

Tayce is reminded of nights out earlier in the year when A’whora would talk to girls at bars and Tayce would always feel this inexplicable burn in her chest in response. She remembers the unfounded relief when A’whora would come back home to the flat with the rest of them, one-night-stand missions failed, and the churn in her stomach the times when she’d leave with a girl she didn’t know and sneak back into the flat at nine in the morning, ready to tell the others about her exploits from the night before which Tayce never wanted to hear.

She’s really fancied A’whora for a long time, now she thinks about it.

“I could so do better!” A’whora complains, and Tayce isn’t looking at her but she just knows she’s pouting.

Lawrence chuckles, tilting her head in amusement. “Go on then! What would your plan of action be, Miss fuckin’ Womaniser?”

There’s a pause before A’whora says, “Well I’d probably wait until we were both drunk on a night out, do tequila shots with them, drape myself over them, kiss them, then get them to take me back home.”

Tayce thinks she deserves an Oscar for the way she refuses to outwardly react to the way A’whora has essentially just described their kiss from that night out. Inside, however, it’s a different story. She’s not sure it’s possible for her heart to go any faster, and every cell of her body seems to buzz. She can barely hear Lawrence and Bimini laughing in response to A’whora’s comment for the way her blood’s roaring in her ears. Once the others stop paying attention and go back to watching the film, it’s only then that Tayce turns her head, raises one unimpressed eyebrow at A’whora who’s looking up at her with a scheming smirk on her face and a glint in her eye.

And right as she’s looking at her, A’whora closes her eyes and plants a kiss against Tayce’s arm then goes back to watching the movie as if nothing ever happened.

It’s at that point that Tayce feels her mouth dry up, feels something coil tight inside her and a throb between her legs. Something is going to happen the moment the pair of them are alone, she can feel it. There’s no way it can’t. In stark contrast to earlier, Tayce now wills the film to end sooner rather than later.

And it does. Finally. The credits roll, the Beach Boys are playing, and Lawrence slaps her thighs. “Well, that was a heap of shite!”

“I’ve still not forgiven Alan Rickman. God love the dead old bastard,” Bimini shrugs, heaves themself up off the floor and slides their phone out of their back pocket, scrolling busily. “Oh, Ellie’s asking if we wanna come join her an’ Anne for drinks. Apparently they’re in some boujie cocktail bar in town spending all their student loan and need responsible adults to stop them.”

“Why the hell are they asking us then?” Tayce quips, the giggle it elicits from A’whora sending a shockwave down her spine.

“I’m down to go meet them both. I’m already tipsy, might as well go the whole hog and get rat-arsed,” Lawrence says decisively, leaping up from the sofa and fixing Tayce and A’whora with an inquisitive glance. “You two coming?”

Tayce lets go of A’whora’s waist and stretches to make a point. “Nah, babe, I can’t. Got this essay due on Wednesday I’ve not started.”

Bimini snorts. “Yeah, I forgot. You’re dead on it and organised, in’t ya?”

Tayce pulls a face at them while Lawrence asks A’whora.

“Mmph. Think I need a nap before I even think about drinking any more, hun.”

Lawrence eyes them both suspiciously and appears to be about to say something else before Bimini tugs on her arm and distracts her. “C’mon then, let’s leave these two to be boring. Have fun, losers!”

Goodbyes are exchanged between them and Lawrence and Bimini finally leave, the fire door to the kitchen swinging shut and leaving the warm glow of the fairy lights, the blanket, the sofa, and A’whora gazing at her with that shit-eating smirk on her face again.

So Tayce wastes no time in bringing a hand up to her jaw, leaning down and kissing her, and judging by the way that A’whora melts into her and lets out a little happy sigh of satisfaction she��s been waiting for it just as much as Tayce has. They fall together like it’s easy, as if both of the times they’ve done this before have been all the practise they need. A’whora brings her hand to rest against Tayce’s cheek as if she’s trying to somehow pull her closer than she already is, and her neediness makes Tayce giggle against her lips. In turn it sets A’whora off, and when she pulls away their faces are still close and there’s little smiles on each of them.

“What’s so funny, you little bitch?” A’whora smirks, her barbed words cushioned by the way she’s wriggling onto Tayce’s lap and bringing her arms up to circle around her neck just like she did the first time in the club.

“Just you’re kind of giving me mixed signals here, baby. Saying you don’t want things to be awkward and then moving to me the entire film,” Tayce mutters, keeping a playful smile on her face despite the fact her words hold entirely too much truth.

It clearly takes the wind out of A’whora’s sails because she casts her gaze down, pauses before speaking and looking at Tayce from under her lashes. “I didn’t mean that, I just meant…I want us to be able to do stuff and not have it be awkward afterwards.”

Oh.

This is a game changer. So A’whora doesn’t regret anything. She doesn’t want them to go back to the way things were- well no, she does, just with an extra little bit of something more added in. She wants the friendship they have but she also clearly wants Tayce like she wants her back, and the realisation makes Tayce squeeze her thighs together, anticipation now so high she feels scared for her blood pressure.

Tayce tries not to let her realisation show on her face. Instead she looks at A’whora with interest, raises an eyebrow at her in amusement. “What’s ‘stuff’, then?”

“Well, just like…if we’re both horny and in the same flat then it saves us having to swipe Tinder for hours on end only to find a girl with a boyfriend who’s looking to ‘experiment’ and never found another girl’s clit in her life, doesn’t it?” A’whora shrugs blithely despite the blush that’s hit her cheeks, her turn of phrase making Tayce bite back a smile. “Whereas I’ve been told I’m quite good at that.”

The twinkle is back in A’whora’s eye again and the combination of that, her smirk and her words make Tayce’s stomach do a somersault. She can’t let it show, though, can’t let A’whora see her crack so she blinks to maintain her composure, tilts her head with mock-curiosity. “Have you now.”

“Yeah. Could show you if you wanted,” A’whora grins brazenly back at her, shifting a little in Tayce’s lap and sending her into orbit. “Plus I can’t remember if I put on matching underwear this morning, so…you should come help me check.”

Tayce breaks the stalemate to throw her head back in a laugh. “Jesus Christ, Lawrence was right. You actually can’t flirt to save yourself.”

She watches A’whora’s face drop into a pout and instantly feels as if she’s kicked a puppy, so Tayce brings one of her hands up to rest on top of her thigh and gives it a squeeze. “Says a lot for how fit you are that it’s still working though, doesn’t it?”

The pout cracks into a scheming smile, and Tayce matches it before A’whora leans in and kisses it off her face. It’s more heated this time, that little undercurrent of intensity as Tayce runs her tongue over A’whora’s and hears her whimper against her lips. As A’whora pushes her fingers into Tayce’s hair Tayce lets her hands drift around to the small of her back, and the way A’whora keeps shifting needily in her lap only makes Tayce want her more, which she didn’t think was even possible.

“We’ve got a free flat, you know,” A’whora mutters in between little kisses, her voice low as she whispers against her lips.

“Probably a good thing. You couldn’t be quiet if your life depended on it,” Tayce teases, running her fingers over the waistband of A’whora’s sweatpants in an attempt to try and convey how much she needs her.

“Oh, you have no idea, babe,” A’whora smirks before pulling away, ripping her top out from where it’s tucked into her waistband and tugging it off, barely even giving Tayce a chance to react. She’s left in a little black bralet with Playboy logos along a white band at the hem, and Tayce feels her mouth go dry.

She’s really, really hoping A’whora put on matching underwear this morning.

But she’s still taken aback because after all- they’re in the middle of their living room, and any of the others could walk in at any given moment- so she can’t help the way her mouth drops open and the way she lets out a little shocked giggle. “A’whora!”

“What?!” A’whora smiles smugly back at her, clearly glad she’s got the reaction she wanted.

“We’re not shagging on this couch, are you insane?! It’s rotten! Kim Woodburn would have a fit if she saw it!”

“Oh, so we are going to shag?” A’whora regards her with one cocked eyebrow, and Tayce can’t help but mirror it. There’s a pause before she gives a small huff of mock-resignation, sealing their fate.

“God. We’re really doing the whole friends with benefits cliché, then?”

A’whora smirks affectionately at her. “Only awkward if we make it awkward.”

She holds out her pinkie between them and Tayce takes it with a resigned laugh, the childish nature of their promise contrasting deeply with the whole situation.

“C’mon then, bestie, lead the way.”

And as A’whora scrambles excitedly off her lap and Tayce takes the opportunity to smack her ass playfully, she feels her heart soar and her head grow light at the thought of being able to do everything she’s been thinking about doing for over a month with one of her best friends in the world.

She wonders why everyone seems to say that a friends with benefits situation isn’t a good idea. This is already the best decision she’s made in years.

[reachexceedinggrasp]

So the majority of the shows I’ve seen lately can be charitably described as ‘light entertainment’, including the ones with dark elements or more weighty, ponderous plots. They might be entertaining or interesting, they just... don’t stand up to scrutiny. Turn your brain off because this isn’t that carefully or skilfully made and you’ll only be annoyed if you start thinking about it as a whole. Including the last couple 'tragic’ historical dramas I’ve watched, which were not effective tragedy for that very reason. If you’re going to kill off the main cast, you have to earn it, and overwhelmingly writers don’t. Anyway, I’ve been getting despondent about whether stories which actually hang together and form a coherent narrative unit with consistent themes are the exception rather than the rule.

(And I feel like that should be a pretty low standard to meet, it’s sort of Step 1 of ‘being a story’: be about something! Communicate something, no matter how basic it is. Dead simple stories with rock basic messages can be revelatory! Just do it well!)

I’ve seen very little genuinely focussed or meaningful storytelling in my ventures for what feels like a long time. Basically, I can kind of count on one hand the number of films or dramas or whathaveyou I’ve seen from the last few years where it felt like the filmmakers were in complete control of their story and everything in it was purposeful and intentional. Most things have felt slapdash or shallow or fleeting. Story elements and character choices come out of nowhere just to derail already concluded arcs and fill screen time with empty repetitious drama, not to serve a meaningful narrative purpose. I would be watching with zero confidence anything in particular was going anywhere or that the writers knew where that should be. It’s just throwing shit at the wall, fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants type writing all the time and it fucking shows.

But then I watched Money Flower.

Money Flower is different. Money Flower is towering head and shoulders above every modern drama I’ve ever seen. Titanically good writing which rises above its genre and makes conventions seem radically new and fresh not by reinventing them or deconstructing them, but by playing them straight, taking them seriously, and committing 1000%. This is all your familiar rich family tropes but with masterpiece execution, infused with consequence and meaning because they’re all driven by the psychology of complex three-dimensional characters. So many moving pieces and none of them are random or unmotivated. Just... GOOD WRITING. And I want to make the point that it is this wherein art lives. The difference between a rank Lifetime movie and Romeo and Juliet is not novelty or tropes or plot twists- it’s execution.

This show is such a perfect example that it is not ‘mere events’ (aka plot) or novelty or shock value or cool ideas which separates something brilliant and timeless from forgettable schlock; it is solely and entirely execution. It’s writing itself, if you know what I mean. You can describe many of Shakespeare’s tragedies and history plays as soap opera plots. What makes Macbeth a deathless masterwork and Death Wish Hollywood wank isn’t a fundamental difference in subject or genre. It’s Shakespeare’s characterisation and purposeful storytelling. It’s the poetry of the dialogue. It’s the craft of writing. Most of Shakespeare’s plots are based on existing stories or on historical events and that has never mattered because novelty is not an inherent good or of any inherent artistic value.

Like, this is the problem with storytelling right now blah blah GOT, shitty endings everywhere etc. because power over the audience (can’t let anyone guess the plot, looking ‘clever’ with meaningless callbacks) and novelty are valued over narrative structure or things making sense or emotional verisimilitude. We have so many writers thinking being ‘shocking’ is all it takes to be a genius. It’s easy to be shocking if your story makes no goddamn sense because things that don’t make sense are literally unpredictable. Not in a good way, though. A great twist or sudden swerve needs to be unexpected but inevitable in hindsight or it does not work. I should be able to rewatch your thing and think ‘oh, of course! you can see it was [x] all along!’

We have so many popular writers now who are so shallow they don’t think anything needs to make sense on a character or emotional level. They don’t think their story has to be about anything. Substance is irrelevant as long as the surface is flashy enough. That has no staying power, you can only watch it once and you will forget about it quickly.

However, if you have ever wanted to experience the constant heightened stakes and High Drama of a soap opera without being annoyed at how ridiculous it all is and while actually giving a shit about the characters because they feel like real human beings, if you’ve wanted to feel repercussions when characters make choices, and get the emotional payoff that is the entire point of drama- now you can. Watch Money Flower. And let me tell you, it is fucking riveting. This show is mostly made up of people sitting in rooms talking and yet it is heart-pounding excitement nearly every episode. It is profoundly traditional and by the book while being totally fresh. It’s the most engrossing and satisfying artistic experience I’ve had in a long time.

Like, THE TENSION, THE DRAMA, THE REVEALS!!! You can, in fact, spend most of 24+ hours on the edge of your seat about family problems and business mergers. It seems unlikely, but that is the power of this series, it creates insanely high stakes and mesmerising suspense out of the most commonplace ingredients. Familiar plot elements become brand new and surprising under the deftness and tightness of this narrative. The plot itself is certainly 100% melodrama but it never feels like a soap opera and is never ever soapy in in a pejorative sense because it handles its classic tropes with such maturity and nuance that it's like you've never seen them before. The writing is incredible.

It is on an entirely different level than the vast majority of dramas, with a total self-assurance that keeps the pacing relentless yet unhurried- taking its time to let the impact of events be felt, the narrative always knowing exactly where it’s going and how to get there. The characters are all multi-faceted and unpredictable without ever being incoherent, their motives and goals always being gradually uncovered in more detail that only makes the storytelling and characterisation even tighter, even richer. The twists and cliffhangers are always mind-blowing but always earned, never cheap or nonsensical, and I can't remember ever thinking that about another show. (There’s literally one exception towards the very end where something a bit random happens for reasons of pure symbolism- it’s a misstep imo but it’s minor in the scheme of things)

Every time I started to doubt the writing, started to think ‘oh no, they’re going off the rails’, they showed me I was wrong and they were in total control. The only 'problem' with the show is that the drama is also profoundly painful to watch unfold, particularly in the beginning, because it's a story where everyone makes terrible life choices and moral corruption is everywhere. It's hypnotic though, like a car crash. If you can handle something dark, insidious, cerebral, and character-driven there is nothing I've seen in the same vein that can approach its brilliance. It’s like The Magnificent Ambersons as a slick modern revenge drama. There is also (PRECIOUSLY!!) a core of stunning romanticism around which all the horrors revolve and that saves it from becoming hideous or cynical. There is a chance for redemption and a new beginning after all, in spite of all appearances.

The ending has apparently been controversial, and it is definitely not quite as climatic as you would have expected given how powerfully climatic almost every regular episode is, but it's a good ending. There isn't full closure, they don't provide final resolution in a bow, but to me it's an ending about hope. It suggests optimism for our characters and I was satisfied with that. It's extremely rare for a 'revenge story’ to allow this kind of room for healing and it can do that because, imo, we discover in the end that it wasn't ultimately vengeance in Pil Joo’s heart. He has not become a tragic hero who will be consumed by the cannibalistic darkness of revenge, his quest was for justice. He teeters on the edge of the abyss but he avoided falling in; he didn't sell his soul, at least not irrevocably.

He is nonetheless a very tragic figure and an anti-hero, but despite having dedicated his life to bringing down the Jang cabal, it’s not that he’ll stop at nothing. He will make any personal sacrifice no matter how desolate, he lives as a mere husk of a man, and he facilitates enormous emotional harm to others in service of his goals, but he has ethical hard lines he never considers crossing. His sense of decency and compassion is never extinguished; he does care about the collateral damage he is causing even when making justifications for it. It’s important to him to give people as much agency as possible in their choices, to mitigate the damage done by his schemes as much as he can. To try to prevent harm coming to undeserving bystanders. Not that this makes it okay that he uses people, which he does, but the point is he never completely surrenders his moral compass to avarice. He’s never okay with burning down the world or ruining innocent lives just to get to his target.

Pil Joo is less a vigilante and more an avenging angel, he wants justice more than retribution. He wants fairness and a better, safer world where what has happened to his family won’t happen again. The reason this story never becomes Sweeney Todd (aka: a full on tragedy where we see the inevitable outcome of lust for revenge) and the reason he can survive twenty years spent pursuing someone’s downfall is exactly that principle. Searching for retribution would have destroyed him, he would have become the very thing he hated, but instead he goes as far as necessary to publicly expose the Jangs for what they are and then willingly submits to penance for his complicity in their crimes and tries to atone with the people he hurt along the way. Purged, he’s symbolically reborn and takes back his real name to maybe finally have a chance at the life he should have had. He moves on, content, a positive force. He’s capable of healing from the ordeal because he realises he doesn’t need retaliation, just seeing them stopped and facing consequences for their actions is enough.

The love story is a superbly poignant part of this. Their love is the ‘victim’ of his revenge and it will forever be impacted by it, but it’s not something that can be killed, so there’s still hope. Mo Hyeon’s bookending rescues of Pil Joo from death mean first that he has a purpose he must fulfil and then the second time that he has freedom to finally live as himself, for himself. There’s a future. And maybe they can be together there. I’m emo about it.

Anyway, if there was the slightest doubt about me becoming a long-term Jang Hyuk fangirl, it’s been put to rest. This performance is easily one of the best I’ve ever seen, period. No contest it’s the best I’ve seen in a tv drama. It’s also the most subtle and masterful turn he's delivered in his whole career. He's so restrained, but he is giving absolutely everything; he has total control over every microexpression, every gesture, every molecule in his body. There is so much simmering under his surface, so much going on in his eyes; the layers and depths are endless. The intensity and sharp intellectual focus he brings to the character is breathtaking. Everyone else is doing amazing work too, but he is almost constantly on screen and has this spectacular command of such a sprawling story, such a complex character, and he makes it look effortless. All artifice has melted away. The fact that being so tightly contained is in stark contrast to the bombastic element in many of his other roles renders its delicate precision even more startlingly impressive. I thought he was a great actor before, but I didn’t fully appreciate what he was capable of until Pil Joo.

[spaceskam]

another part of me could be you

for @capmanes (i meant to have this done literally an entire week ago but i have no concept of time management)❤️️

ao3

warning: blood & guns; this also turned into something a little spiteful if you squint

Michael didn’t exactly hate Forrest, hate was a very strong word, but that didn’t mean he didn’t get unreasonably irritated every time he saw him do something stupid like breathe. The guy was clingy and stuck to Alex’s side more often than not which made it extremely hard to get information from him, but Alex never even seemed to mind. It was like he was using Forrest as an excuse to get away from all of their alien bullshit and refused to admit it. It made Forrest even more annoying.

Yet, when Forrest showed up outside the airstream, alone and panicking, Michael couldn’t turn him away.

“Whoa, dude, breathe,” Michael instructed, guiding him to go sit in one of the chairs around the fire pit. He went, bowing his head in his hands as he tried to steady his breath. Michael stayed crouched in front of him, making sure he was going to be okay. As much as he didn’t like him, Alex liked him, and that meant that it was now Michael’s responsibility to make sure he didn’t get a scratch on him. “What happened?”

Forrest grabbed fistfuls of his own hair, taking a sharp and shaky breath.

“Alex,” he said, voice breaking, “Someone took Alex and he just told me to go to you and, and we need to find him. We need to go find him.”

Michael’s chest clenched and he tried not to get too angry at the thought of Alex just being taken. What the hell did that even mean, taken? Who took him? Where? Why? What?

But Forrest was crying and Michael knew from experience that, when one person was losing it, the other had to stay strong. So, for once, for Alex, he had to just stay strong.

“Do you know who took him?” he asked, keeping his voice as controlled as possible. It was hard to breathe and his skin was on fire, desperate to go find where Alex was and steal him back. Maybe even kill the person who took him, who knows, he was feeling a bit unpredictable these days.

“No,” Forrest said, shaking his head. He lifted his head to make eye contact with Michael, not a single trace of shame as he cried and sniffled. “No, they just jumped us. I-I thought at first it was... But they grabbed Alex and literally started dragging him into a van like some shitty mob movie and he tried to fight back, but he was, like, really outnumbered and I-I couldn’t help, one of ‘em had a gun pointed at me and I just froze. God, I’m a piece of shit, I just froze.”

“No, that was a scary situation, it makes sense,” Michael–who definitely deserved a medal after this–said, “Then what happened?”

“They just threw him in and he just yelled to go to you before slamming the door closed and driving off,” Forrest explained, voice turning a little whiny as a new wave of tears threatened his eyes, “I feel so bad.”

“Hey, look, we’re gonna find him. Can you tell me anything about the van or what the guys looked like? Look, follow me and let me see if they were stupid enough to let Alex keep his phone.”

Forrest nodded and managed to stand up, both of them heading into the airstream. Michael pulled out his laptop that was a little bit shotty but he’d rigged it up pretty nice. Then, when he and Alex were still on good terms, he’d tweaked it a little bit more to make it even better. He instantly started trying to track Alex’s phone even though he knew it would be hard since Alex wasn’t really a fan of being traceable.

“The van was just all black, tinted windows. There wasn’t anything on it to make it stand out from any other all black vans with tinted windows. The guys all had masks.”

“Anything identifiable? Did you catch any license plate numbers or anything?”

“No, I mean–Wait, it was a government license plate,” Forrest said. Michael looked over his shoulder at him.

“You’re sure?”

“I’m, like, 99% sure. It didn’t have as many numbers or anything as regular license plates.”

“Good,” Michael breathed, turning back to the laptop, “So let’s find some military places and see if there’s any in the vicinity of where Alex’s phone is. If I can find it.”

“I just don’t get it. Who would want to take him?” Forrest asked. Michael sighed, realizing that, as much as he wanted to keep their secret to the small group they had, it looked like that might not be possible. Even if he kept it away, Forrest would be curious and he would ask questions.

“How much do you know?” he said. Forrest was quiet for a minute, clearly not understanding the question. Which meant Alex hadn’t really told him anything. But then again, he shouldn’t have been surprised. Alex was loyal. “Right. How much do you know about Alex’s father?”

“Um, that he’s a dick?” Forrest filled in, “I know... I know about what happened when you guys were young.” Michael froze for a moment, taking a grounding breath before putting his focus back onto the screen. “Alex said he’s done bad things, but didn’t elaborate past that.”

“Yeah, well, Alex’s whole family is affiliated with a pretty sketchy government organization,” Michael said, trying to keep his mind focused, “Alex has been trying to dismantle it.”

“What?”

The computer finished loading in that second, showing that Alex’s phone had received a text ten minutes prior and it’d pinged off a cell tower that had about a twenty square mile range. Michael grinned to himself, feeling prideful as he began searching for places in that area that he might be. His first instinct was to show Alex, show what he learned from watching him, but that wasn’t an option. Not right now, at least.

“Can I trust you?” Michael asked, writing down a few different addresses that might be it. He turned to face him, seeing that he was really fucking confused but he nodded. “No, seriously. If I start talking, you need to be aware that if you share anything I say to you with anyone outside of Alex, that you’re going to be in danger.” He didn’t really mean it as a threat. Or, maybe he did. “But you need to know if you’re going to help me get Alex.”

Forrest swallowed and nodded, drying his face entirely.

“Tell me what I need to know.”

-

“So. Aliens.”

“Aliens.”

“And you’re one?”

“Yep.”

“And Alex probably got taken because he protects you guys?”

“Probably.”

“And I was absolutely wrong about the Nazis?”

“Yeah,” Michael said, “Also, you should probably dial back the Nazi obsession when you’re literally related to modern day Nazis. It’s not a good look.”

“Yeah, well, clearly I need to get a job on Ancient Aliens after this, so,” Forrest huffed. Michael managed a smile, but it quickly faded as he spotted a black van in the lot of an abandoned building. “Coincidence?”

“Nothing’s a coincidence around here.”

Michael stopped his truck and turned it off, leaving it in plain sight on the property. There wasn’t much sneaking they could do anyway and, besides, he was feeling pretty powerful in the moment.

“So, what’s the plan?” Forrest asked.

“We go in, I throw guards at the wall, we get Alex, and we fucking flee to the bunker.”

“What bunker?”

“Either Alex’s or mine.”

“Wait, you both have a bunker?”

“Technically, Alex has two, but–“

“Who are you people?”

“Right, so basically just watch my back and I’ll watch yours. Alex said you’re ex-military, so you’ve got some skills, right?” Michael said. He shrugged slightly. “Good enough. Here, use this.”

Michael leaned over to the glove compartment and moved the acetone to pull out the gun, handing it to Forrest. He eyed him skeptically, but took it anyway. 

“You think he’s gonna be okay?” Forrest asked. They made eye contact for a second and Michael nodded. Him not being okay wasn’t an option. Alex needed to be okay or Michael wouldn’t be okay. Simple as that.

“Let’s go get him.”

-

It was easier than it should’ve been to slip into the building. There were no snipers, no guards, no nothing. It had them both on high alert, just waiting to be caught off guard.

Michael kept his power bubbling under the surface, focusing on his anger that someone had taken Alex and making sure that he would be a force to be reckoned with the moment he needed to be. Forrest kept the small gun held up, finger off the trigger like he knew exactly what he was doing.

“I’ll have you know, I’m very against guns,” he’d said when they climbed out of the truck despite the fact that he cocked it easily and checked it over. Michael had rolled his eyes, but felt a bit safer knowing he wasn’t gun crazy. Less of a chance he’d actually shoot Alex.

“This is weird,” Michael whispered, slowly making his way down the hall, “Something’s wrong.”

“Yeah, something’s wrong, they took Alex,” Forrest pointed out. Michael shook his head.

“No, I mean...”

He trailed off as they took a corner and saw a guard laying in a pool of his own blood right outside a door. They both froze. It didn’t make any sense. Where were the other guards? Who did that to him? Anxiety pooled in his stomach and he looked over to Forrest. 

“What now?” Forrest asked. Michael took a deep breath and nodded his head to the door.

“We go in.”

“And if Alex is hurt too?”

“Then I kill the person who hurt him,” Michael said easily. Forrest didn’t respond.

They both moved closer to the door and Michael used his mind to throw it open quickly, giving them the element of surprise to whoever was inside. But the only conscious one on the inside was Alex.

He was on the floor, prosthetic nowhere to be seen as he clutched his side. Three bodies laid out around them and Michael wasn’t sure if they were alive or not, but he knew for sure that Alex had taken them out. And Alex, wounded and struggling to breath, gave them a bloody little smile.

“Hey, Prince Charming,” he said, not really specifying which one of them he meant, “Just in time.”

Forrest immediately put the gun away and went to his side. Michael watched like an intruder as Forrest kissed his cheek as a small form of comfort and apologized. Alex smiled tiredly at him before pursing his lips for an actual kiss, something he got despite the fact his lips were covered in blood.

“Great reunion and all, but you’re hurt,” Michael said, pushing away that gut-wrenching feeling that came with not being the one Alex wanted when he was in pain, “Let me see it.”

Alex didn’t move his hand as he gave him his attention, still breathing raggedly. Whatever it was, it wasn’t good. Michael moved closer and watched him keep on pressing. He was going to bleed out.

“I’m fine,” Alex said, smiling up at him with those eyes that would’ve been totally swoon worthy if he wasn’t denying his pain, “Just a scratch.”

“Alright, Mercutio, move your hand,” he said, crouching in front of him. 

Alex breathed a laugh and his head fell back against the wall, still smiling at him and refusing to move his hand. 

“You remember that scene in Romeo and Juliet?” he breathed, closing his eyes slowly and opening then just as slow, “Remember we-we had to act it out freshman year together? You were Romeo, you-you had to hold me as I died. You-you suck at acting. Still Romeo, though, still. Now. That’s kinda funny. The-the cinematic parallel no one predicted.”

“Okay, we’re not about to reminisce or make jokes, that’s what you do when you’re about to die and you’re not fucking dying,” Michael said, keeping his voice steady despite the fact that he was getting more and more worried. He looked at Forrest who seemed way in over his head, but he still held Alex and pushed his hair off his sweaty forehead to comfort him. Michael had never been so grateful for someone he didn’t even like. “You’re gonna be okay, Alex.”

“Yeah?” Alex laughed, “These violent delights have violent ends. You know that one, right, Forrest?”

“Is he delirious?” Forrest asked Michael, turning to him for guidance. Michael licked his lips.

“You trust me?” he asked him. Forrest looked at Alex who seemed to be fading out of it more and more by the second as he bled, continuing to murmur Shakespeare under his breath. Which, Michael had to admit, was kind of funny. But he could laugh about it when Alex was healthy.

“Yeah,” Forrest said, nodding, “I trust you.”

Michael took a deep breath and nodded, closing his eyes as he mentally pictured his powers rising and strengthening specifically for Alex. Always for Alex.

“Lay him on the floor,” Michael instructed, “I’m gonna heal him, but I don’t know if I’ll be able to do it completely. More than likely, I’ll just be able to do enough to get him to Kyle, but I’ll be fucked up too. So you’re gonna need to drive and call Kyle as soon as I stop, okay? Then you’re gonna need to call Max so he and Liz can come out here and deal with the body and DNA situation, okay? Can you do that?”

“Absolutely,” Forrest agreed. They both helped as they laid him on the floor.

“Don’t touch him. It’s a lot of electrical power and I don’t wanna accidentally fuck you up,” Michael warned. Forrest nodded and moved just a little, giving them just enough space. Michael carefully peeled off Alex’s hand, seeing the nasty wound on his stomach still gushing blood. It was so bad, Michael couldn’t even tell what caused it.

Still, he layered his hands over it, feeling Alex’s heart pumping hard as it tried to save him.

“Thus, with a kiss, I die,” Alex said, huffing a little laugh as he took a strangled breath.

“Not that kinda kiss, babe,” Michael replied, “And you’re not dying.”

Then Michael focused all of his power on him, thinking of nothing but Alex and everything that he was. His pretty smile, his undying loyalty, his protective nature, his unmatched kindness despite all the cruelty he endured, his eyes, his mouth, his heart. Everything that was Alex Manes was incredible and it was way too soon for him to go away. Michael wasn’t done showing him he was good. Hell, he hadn’t even started.

He was starting now.

Things were blurry when his body decided it’d reached it’s peak and he had to turn to throw up. If a good amount got on one of the guy’s that kidnapped Alex, well, that was someone else’s problem.

“Michael,” Forrest said, his hand reaching for Michael’s shoulder and squeezing. It grounded him more than he’d ever admit. “Michael, you good?”

“Yeah,” he breathed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and turning back to them. Alex was breathing well, eyes wide as he sat up on his own and stared at Michael in something akin to shock. They both knew he’d have a hand print on him and that was a bridge that would absolutely not be fun to cross. But it didn’t matter. He was breathing. “Yeah, I’m good. Sick, but good.”

“Alex, are you good?” Forrest wondered, his hand still on Michael as his other one went to Alex’s cheek. It was strange to see someone so unabashedly caring. For both of them.

“Yeah,” Alex said, nodding, “Still bleeding, but not as bad. Thing you just mended an artery and a, a kidney, maybe? I don’t know.”

“Good,” Michael breathed, laughing slightly, “Good.”

“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” Forrest urged.

Alex stood between them as they helped him get to the truck, letting him use them both of a crutches. Michael was weak and dizzy, but he could feel Alex’s gratitude and that pushed him. Besides, he had acetone in the truck.

They squeezed in the bench of Michael’s truck, Forrest in the driver’s seat and Alex in the middle. Forrest pulled out his phone and immediately started making calls as he put the truck and drive and got them the fuck out of there. Michael went for the acetone stash in his glove box. He downed it quickly and tried not to react when Alex leaned against him. 

When he glanced at him, he had his eyes closed and he was taking extremely controlled breaths as he pressed his hand to the wound. Michael watched him for a moment as he drank and, once he was done, he carefully grabbed a t-shirt that was stuffed behind the seat. He smelled it, making sure it wasn’t gross, before moving Alex’s hand and pressing it over the wound.

“You need anything from me?” Michael asked softly so as not to disturb Forrest as he got directions to the cabin from Kyle, “Like, are you grounded or are you just lucid enough to be thrown into a panic attack over being kidnapped and having to take out four guys by hand?”

Alex huffed a laugh and tilted his head back to look up at him, eyes fond. Michael loved that look.

“I’ll be okay,” he promised, nodding, “Thank you for saving me.”

“Thank Forrest, he made sure we made it in time and handled the alien information like a champ,” Michael said.

“Thanks Forrest,” Alex hummed. Forrest glanced over at them both, flashing a smile. He held the phone to his ear with his shoulder, reaching out to squeeze Alex’s thigh gently. 

“Yeah, Kyle, thanks. I’ll call Max and I’ll tell him where to go,” Forrest said, letting go of Alex to grab the phone and end the call, “You two still doing good? No one’s gonna die on me?”

“No,” Michael assured, “Not gonna let that happen.”

Forrest made momentary eye contact with him, going back and forth from the road to his eyes. 

“I know. Thank you.”

“No worries.”

Forrest got Max on the phone and Michael settled into holding Alex. Everything was going to be okay.

-

“So, he’s gonna be okay?”

Kyle nodded and looked between Michael and Forrest. He’d stitched up Alex and left him on the old bed of the pullout couch, pain killers in his system. Michael knew, logically, that he had to leave soon and just let Alex be with his boyfriend while he healed. But, fuck, he didn’t want to go.

“Yeah,” Kyle confirmed.

“Thank God,” Forrest breathed, visibly relaxed at the confirmation. Kyle smiled and looked at Michael as if waiting for him to ask for a ride. He cleared his throat and decided he didn’t really have a choice.

“I can, uh, leave my truck here for you guys whenever Alex is feeling okay if, uh, you wanna give me a ride back into town,” Michael said. Forrest looked to him like he’d lost it.

“No, what if they come back? We need you here,” Forrest said. Michael didn’t know how to feel about that, didn’t know how to handle being needed.

“Stay,” Alex called sleepily. Michael looked back at Alex and then at Forrest, both of whom seemed eager for him to stay. He took a grounding breath. He didn’t want to go.

So he looked back to Kyle.

“Um, I guess I gotta hold down the fort,” Michael said. Kyle eyed him before slowly nodding. 

“Take care of him, call me if anything goes wrong,” he said, “Bye, Alex, stay safe.”

“Bye,” Alex hummed.

Michael followed him to the door, quickly locking it behind him. He watched until Kyle was gone and then watched a little longer, making sure no one followed them there. After that, he closed his eyes and did a mental sweep of all the locks on the doors and windows in the cabin and made sure they were secure. Until they knew for sure who took Alex and why and if there was anyone else, he needed to be on high alert.

“Hey, Romeo,” Alex called. Michael turned his gaze to the pullout couch, seeing Alex in the middle and Forrest laying beside him. He figured before today he would’ve wanted to throw up at the sight. But, right now, he was grateful. 

Really fucking grateful. 

“C’mere,” Alex added, patting the bed beside him.

Like always, that magnetic pull tugged at Michael’s heart and he slowly stepped out of his boots and walked towards the bed. He looked at Forrest, making sure he was cool with it, and then laid down when he got a nod of confirmation. Alex grabbed his hand and held it over the stitches where the hand print was slowly but surely making itself known. He felt a rush of just pure fucking love and had no idea how to handle it.

So he moved closer, still checking with both of them that it was alright with glances. Forrest was already pressed to Alex’s side with his hand in his hair and he didn’t seem to have any issues as Michael pressed in just as close on Alex’s other side with his hand on his bare stomach. He could hear his heart thumping in his chest, his head still feeling a little off from healing Alex and acetone. Maybe he misunderstood.

“I-Is this okay?” he asked carefully. Forrest nodded solemnly.

“That was scary, it’s still scary, we don’t know if they’re coming back,” he said softly, “No one should be alone.”

“You’re being way too nice to me,” Michael huffed, swallowing harshly. His hands were shaking and he didn’t really know why. He couldn’t understand why this guy was being so nice to him, so open to him, and yet didn’t want anything from him. That didn’t compute.

“Not everyone has an agenda,” Alex murmured, eyes closed as he relaxed to the feeling of both men at his side. Michael could feel through the mark just how safe he felt with them, both of them. He could’ve cried.

“You take care of Alex, I take care of you, simple as that,” Forrest added, staring at him over Alex’s head. Michael nodded curtly as he finally understood a little bit better. Forrest was taking care of one of his own.

And Michael fell under that umbrella.

Simple as that.