#but to me its just general discomfort and frustration)

[lonely-cowboy]

beautifully human

pairing: connor (rk800) x f!reader

summary: after noticing the way connor looks at other androids, you worry that you may never have a chance with him. but what you don't know is that he has only ever had eyes for you.

word count: 2.9k

warnings: insecure reader, mentions of death (they literally talk about dying in an elevator) (spoiler alert: it doesn't happen), probably ooc connor, west coast dialect went a little too hard in the dialogue, some very specific physical descriptions that i also tried to keep as general as possible? you'll see what i mean ig

author's note: glad to report that this account is lowkey helping me get over my writer's block, so that's amazing for me. anyway. as usual, feel free to leave any critiques on how i can improve my writing, characterization, etc.! :)

masterlist ⟡ requests

You hated that your investigation brought you to the Eden Club. You didn’t necessarily hate the Eden Club or its workers, but you hated that you had to go with Connor and Hank. It would’ve been embarrassing enough to go with just Hank, but adding Connor to the mix made you want to collapse to the ground and never move again. But you were a professional, so if you had to go with Connor and Hank then you could suck it up for a night. Hopefully.

The moment you stepped inside the club, you were filled with unease. Your stomach churned and your shoulders scrunched up high as if you were trying to hide from the world. To handle your discomfort, you turned cold and distant, observing everything and everyone with an icy glare. You trailed behind Hank and Connor as you scanned your surroundings, doing your very best to look at everything but Connor.

You couldn’t look at Connor in this place without being filled with a displaced sense of anger. You couldn’t help but wonder if he looked at these androids with infatuation or desire. Did he find them beautiful? Did he want them in the same way you wanted him? You knew they were stupid thoughts, but you couldn’t control them. Somehow, Connor had weaseled his way into your heart and refused to leave no matter how hard you tried.

Distracted by your foggy mind, you almost bumped right into Connor when he stopped to admire a Traci, his soft gaze exploring her body through the glass barrier. You watched as the Traci smiled gently at him, her hand reaching forward to touch the glass like she was trying to caress his cheek. Connor didn’t move to reciprocate her action, but he still appeared to be in awe. It only made your scowl deepen.

You hated that you were consumed by jealousy because you knew– deep down– that it stemmed from insecurity. This Traci was made to be beautiful. She was made to be desired and worshipped. In her limited clothing, there wasn’t much left to the imagination. Her body was the epitome of perfect with its soft curves and smooth skin. She was a perfect balance of sweet and charismatic. She was everything that you assumed a man wanted, and androids were no exception. From the way Connor looked at her, you were sure she was everything he wanted too. 

You sighed in frustration before marching away as Hank called to Connor. You refused to let your jealousy– or anything you felt for Connor– get in the way of your investigation. But no matter how hard you tried, your mind was still drawn to him.

Maybe you had been too hopeful, but you really had thought that maybe– just maybe– Connor had felt something for you. Apparently, you were just far more delusional than you thought.

While Hank discussed the crime scene with Officer Miller, you stood to the side looking uncharacteristically cold. With your arms folded over your chest and a hard, almost bored look in your eye, it was clear that you weren’t particularly interested in talking to anyone. You assumed that would be obvious to everyone, androids included. And it seemed that it had been obvious, but that certainly didn’t stop Connor.

From the corner of your eye, you could see Connor watching you with a confused glint. His LED flashed yellow as he analyzed your body language, working to only make your blood boil. You knew there was no reason to be angry with him, so why did your anger persist? Why did you feel so unreasonably jealous? He was just a man, after all, nothing more.

Connor approached you with his hands clasped behind his back, standing beside you and following your cold gaze. He was silent for a moment, pleased to simply be in your presence even when you were acting so stony.

“You’re unusually quiet, Detective,” Connor observed. “This is not within your typical behavioral patterns. Are you feeling alright?”

“I’m fine,” you answered dismissively. “Don’t you have a body to analyze?”

Connor paused again, pursing his lips in a way that was so oddly human. In a gentle tone, he said, “Well… yes. But that’s usually something we do together.”

“Why?” you hissed, feeling suddenly riled now that Connor was talking to you. Why was he giving you this attention? Why was he acting like he cared about you? You knew he didn’t. At least, your clouded mind let you think he didn’t. “It’s not like you need my help. You can do everything on your own, I’m useless to you.”

Connor turned his body towards you fully, a deep crease settling between his brows. His LED continued to circle yellow as he studied you once again. That made you roll your eyes which seemed to be enough of a hint for Connor. With his LED still glowing yellow, he turned away without another word, allowing you to resume your wallowing in misery. 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You were still fuming as Hank drove you home. With Connor in the front seat, you were stuck in the back, glaring daggers into his back. How had such a clueless android managed to lure you in and make you jealous purely because he wasn’t interested in you?

As Connor jabbered on about something or other, you stared out the car window absentmindedly. You couldn’t help but imagine the Traci on the other side of the window, reaching out and smiling that perfect smile that made you never want to smile again.

You glanced at Connor as he fell silent. He turned to look out the window, making you cringe at the idea that he truly was thinking of the Traci. But you failed to notice his eyes transfixed on you through the side mirror, his gaze gentle and curious as he admired your stubborn look. He stared at you dreamily the rest of the car ride. 

When you finally reached your apartment building, Hank had barely stopped the car before you were clambering out and slamming the door behind you.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” you grumbled, having enough decency to give Hank a small wave. 

As you trudged towards your apartment building, you froze at the sound of another car door opening and closing. You cursed under your breath, hesitant to turn for fear of whom you might find. As you glanced over your shoulder, you cursed again as your fear came true. Connor approached you with long strides, leaving behind a very confused-looking Hank.

“I’ll walk you to your apartment,” Connor offered innocently. 

You stared at him blankly and muttered, “Connor, my building is right here. I just need to go up a few floors. I know how to use an elevator, I’ll manage just fine on my own.”

You turned and continued towards your building, not surprised when you heard Connor follow.

“The chances of an elevator-related death are one in 10.5 million,” Connor continued in that matter-of-fact tone that you usually found so endearing. 

When Connor didn’t elaborate, you stopped and turned to him again with a raised brow. You waited for more, but it still didn’t come. Connor just stared at you pleasantly, drinking in your charmingly confused face.

“Okay…,” you said. “So like I said, I’ll be fine on my own.”

“But the chance of it happening is still possible, so it’s best if I escort you,” Connor continued. His grin widened as you rolled your eyes in acceptance. As an afterthought, he added, “Just in case.” 

In silence, the two of you made your way up the elevator (where you did not, in fact, die) and to your apartment. You stood outside the door and turned to Connor, ready to send him away in the hopes that if you couldn’t see him then you wouldn’t be overwhelmed by images of him and that Traci. But you knew that wasn’t the case because even when he was long gone you would still think about how you couldn’t be enough for him. You weren’t pretty enough for such an angelic being like him, not when other beautifully crafted androids existed.

“May I come in?” Connor inquired before you could even open your mouth.

No.

You wanted to say no so desperately. You wanted him to leave. You wanted to bury yourself under your bed sheets and never see him again.

But he was still your friend, and you were still a decent enough person. It would be rude to reject him.

“Sure,” you replied softly, opening the door to allow the two of you in.

The moment you closed the door, Connor was already asking questions that you were not at all prepared for.

“You were upset today,” he noted. “Do you want to talk about how you feel?”

“I… what?” you stammered. “Since when are you a therapist android?”

“I’m not a therapist android, but as your companion, I care about your well-being,” Connor answered far too casually for your liking.

Companion? Well-being?

“Yeah, I doubt that,” you mumbled without thinking.

You were stupid to think Connor wouldn’t have heard you. With his sensitive hearing, he heard you loud and clear. Your comment made him tilt his head curiously and narrow his eyes.

“Why would I not care about you?” he asked, the genuine confusion in his voice making your resolve melt. 

“That’s not… it’s just…,” you blabbered, throwing your hands up in exasperation as you struggled to find the right words. “I wouldn’t expect you to care about me the same way–”

You stopped abruptly, eyes wide as your mind finally caught up to your yapping mouth. You could not finish that sentence.

Connor’s eyes narrowed further at your sudden pause. He took a cautious step forward, then another. You knew that he had already noticed the way your heartbeat accelerated, your breath suddenly caught in your throat. “The same way… what?” he repeated, urging you to finish your sentence.

“It’s nothing, it’s stupid,” you dismissed. 

Connor murmured your name as if he were scolding a child, raising a brow as a sign of encouragement to finish.

“Well… I wouldn’t expect you to care about me… the same way… the same way I care about you,” you said, the last part coming out far too hurried. 

Maybe if you had just finished your sentence the first time you wouldn’t be in this situation. That was a perfectly normal thing to say to a friend, wasn’t it? Absolutely. Absolutely… But the way you had paused only made you look more suspicious. You knew Connor was smart enough to understand the suggestion of romantic feelings.

“How is it you feel about me?” Connor questioned.

“It doesn’t matter, you wouldn’t feel the same anyway,” you muttered, pushing past him to be anywhere that wasn’t near him.

Before you could get too far, Connor’s iron grip wrapped around your wrist and held you in place. You looked at him with offense, but he knew you meant nothing by it.

“It does matter, Detective,” he whispered lowly. “It matters to me.”

There was no going back now. Connor already got the hint that you cared for him more than you probably should. You might as well say it outright. That was better than being embarrassed and pretending nothing happened. Right?

“I like you, Connor,” you admitted, the words sounding childish in your mouth. “God, this is so embarrassing…”

Connor was silent for a long moment, making you wonder if he actually had figured it out. If he hadn’t… God, you would be mortified. Did he really not know, and you just willingly outed yourself to him?

You risked a peek at Connor to find him already looking at you with a small smile. His hand was still holding your wrist tightly, his skin comfortingly warm against your burning skin. The glint in his eyes made your brows furrow as heat rose to your cheeks.

“Why would you think I don’t care about you?” Connor asked, the quirk of his lips telling you that he found all of this somewhat amusing.

“I mean… yeah, I would think that you care about me. On some level. I’d assume…,” you prattled. “But as a friend, obviously. Connor, I’m not sure you understand what I mean when I say I like–”

“I understand perfectly well, Detective,” Connor interrupted. “So I’ll pose the question once again: why would you think I don’t care about you?”

The confusion was clear on your face. Tilting your head to the side, you turned your body to face Connor slightly, giving him the opportunity to lightly pull your wrist until you were completely facing him. Even when he had you standing where he wanted, he still didn’t let go of your wrist, though he loosened his grasp and held you lightly. You could feel his thumb rubbing along your inner wrist soothingly. Your knees felt weak, and you were sure you were going to collapse against him at any second. His touch was so loving that you almost believed he could feel the same way.

You nearly forgot Connor had asked you a question until he gave your arm a light squeeze that snapped you back to attention. He arched both eyebrows, watching you with that humorous glint. 

“I just… Well…,” you faltered. You inhaled sharply, gathering your thoughts before you continued. “I just can’t understand how or why someone like you would be interested in someone like me when there are so many better options. Yeah, I guess… I guess that’s it. I don’t know…”

“Better options?” Connor repeated. The obvious confusion in his voice warmed your heart. It was as if he had never even considered that there could be better options.

“Well, yeah,” you shrugged. “I’m no android, Connor. I’m not… I’m not perfect. I’m not beautiful or stunning or gorgeous. I’m not like that girl you were looking at.”

There was another long pause as Connor struggled to process your words. His LED spiraled yellow as he questioned, “What girl?”

“The Traci,” you explained in exasperation, “at the Eden Club. It looked like you were practically in love with her, and I don’t blame you. She’s the definition of perfect. Not a single flaw in sight.”

“You think you’re flawed?” Connor asked immediately. That was his biggest takeaway?

“Yes, obviously, Connor! I am! And I just find it very hard to believe that someone as beautiful as you could be attracted to someone as… average as me,” you snapped, sounding harsher than you intended.

Connor released your wrist, and for a moment you worried that you scared him off. But then his warm hands were holding your cheeks, his thumbs now slowly running along your cheekbones. He stepped forward until his body was pressed against yours, leaning down until his forehead was nearly touching yours. His eyes latched onto yours, and for a moment, he just held your gaze in silence. He was reveling in the sight of you, so close to him that he could feel your sweet breath against his lips.

“It seems you don’t realize how beautiful you are,” he murmured. “Perhaps I’ll have to explain it to you.”

Connor paused again, searching your eyes for any effort to argue. But you were still so stunned by his sudden proximity that you had nothing to give. When he heard no contradiction, Connor smiled and continued on.

“Maybe you don’t think you’re perfect,” he started, “but I do. Everything you see as a flaw, I see as beautiful. It makes you you. It makes you so… human. And maybe you can’t understand because of it, but there’s something so pure about being human. Just being human makes you beautiful. But you… you’re different. You’re above them all.”

There was a strangely desperate look in Connor’s eyes like he was pleading with you to understand. Exhaling slowly, he leaned forward and rested his forehead against your own. He closed his eyes, his LED shifting from yellow to blue and back again as he tried to sift through the swarm of emotions.

“I don’t know why it’s you, but it is,” he whispered, his voice nearly too quiet for you to hear. “I just can’t help but notice everything about you. I love the wrinkles on your forehead when you’re confused to the point of frustration. I love when only one side of your hair is brushed because you’re too lazy to brush the other. I love when your lip bleeds because you’re biting it while you’re thinking and you don’t even notice. I love…”

Connor stopped and pulled back slightly, his hands still resting on your cheeks. His LED circled red once, the worry on his face far too obvious to your keen eyes. When you didn’t say anything, Connor tried to pull away, but you didn’t let him.

Your hands quickly moved to rest over top his, holding him in place. You looked up at him with eyes full of admiration and wonder as if an angel had come and graced the earth. Maybe that’s what he was, an angel. You would believe it. With that pretty face and those sweet words, you could easily be fooled.

As you eyed Connor’s face, the corners of your lips quirked into a smile. Maybe you could be enough for him. He seemed to think so. It was that thought alone that drove you to lean forward and press the faintest of kisses to Connor’s lips. It was barely a peck, and as you pulled away, Connor leaned forward to chase after your warmth. The gesture made you laugh as you whispered against his lips.

“I love how human you are.” 

#detroit become human #connor x reader #dbh connor x reader #rk800 x reader #dbh connor #connor rk800

[vaguely-concerned]

listen I don't even know what I'm talking about anymore but on this playthrough of DA2 I found myself once more entranced and heartbroken to see hawke reenact their relationship with their mother with the entire cursed city of kirkwall. you can never do enough for leandra, and you can never do enough for kirkwall. leandra is proud of you, and kirkwall uplifts its champion, but no matter how hard you try for them you can't fix everything there that's broken, no one could, and even the fact that anyone would feel the burning responsibility to take that task on is a huge warning sign on its own. leandra will easily allow you to sacrifice yourself on the altar of the family's continued well-being again and again, even when she'll beg you to spare the twins from the same thing. it's such a sad, painfully realistic thing because I truly don't think leandra meant to fuck up her kids, and yet she primed her oldest for an abusive toxic codependent relationship with an entire ongoing dumpster fire of a city state better than she ever could have if she had meant to.

I think what leandra actually, deep down wants from you is something you can never ever give her and that is cruel to ask of anyone, but especially your kid -- to bring her back to a time when she was happy. to reclaim when you were all happy, when nothing was broken that couldn't be fixed, before malcolm died, before you had to leave behind bethany or carver's broken body on the ground. to get her childhood back from where she left it and found it all gone and in ruins when she returned. 'this is all your fault'. this is the tragedy of parenthood sometimes I think, that capacity to define a life: she said that once, in a moment of profound pain, and she probably wouldn't have said it under other circumstances and she apologizes later, but now hawke has to live with that forever. leandra can't bear her own emotions without letting them spill over onto someone else so she won't have to hold the discomfort of them anymore, and hawke is left to shoulder that burden and responsibility again and again, handed the impossible task of making it all okay again, somehow -- of stopping anything bad from ever happening again in the Nr 1 Bad Things Constantly Happening capital of thedas.

and then at the same time there's the mirror of how varric's whole family wants orzammar back (and to him orzammar is just a ghost he's seen in their eyes -- there's something in his voice when he says 'That stupid plate was the whole city of Orzammar to him' that gets me every time, how much he understands that he doesn't understand and how lonely that makes him among them, and on top of it all he's frustrated and ashamed and sad that he just doesn't get it and can't meet them on it -- like it's a betrayal that he actually belongs up here, when varric wants so badly to be loyal), just as the hawkes want happiness back. (I don't think it's Lothering in itself that longing is for, it's for being together. Lothering was just the place they stayed the longest.) they're all in exile, even as they try to make a new home out of that exile.

(varric and hawke's real 🤝 quality across all personalities, affinities and choices is 'parentified child' lmao. so much of varric's character makes perfect sense once you know he grew up supporting a mother who was an emotionally volatile alcoholic, honestly. between varric, the hawkes, isabela, seb if you have him and merrill's whole Situation with marethari I feel like DA2 covertly is to mommy issues what ME2 is to daddy issues fjsdjfa)

basically I think I'm trying to pick apart exactly why the fact that leandra is clearly proud of hawke and tells them so several times doesn't feel like it helps at all, almost feels more like a cage even though it's clearly meant well? and what I'm getting is that it's because my sense of what hawke actually needs, in general but especially from a parent, isn't admiration or approval but to be loved and supported and understood. I don't believe leandra ever quite understands them, and it scares her because it makes her think she maybe never even understood malcolm. (that's the subtext of a lot of what leandra will say about him in legacy, at least. he's slipping away from her as the years pass after his death and she fears she never really had him in the first place, if he had secrets like these.) she consistently treats her oldest more like a partner or peer than as her child, which considering hawke is always described as being very similar to their father… I mean I totally see how that could be easy to slip into for her after he died especially, but it doesn't make it any less fucked up or unfair.

the real leandra in legacy is. she is SO absurdly self-centered, if you really pay attention. I don't want to keep dunking on her because I don't think she's like this on purpose, but it boggles my mind. if you do the quest in act 1 she gets so upset and overwhelmed that the kids just sort of sit there like :( at the end, which adds to the trend that through the game you constantly see hawke comforting leandra, and you pretty much never see leandra comforting hawke, beyond some light vaguely encouraging comments in passing. if you do legacy in act 2 while she's still alive hawke comes to her, tentatively asking if malcolm ever spoke to her about any of it -- clearly requesting some sort of emotional support or help to make sense of it. she then expresses her side of it, but never once does she say anything to the effect of 'hey that was a lot to go through, are you okay after all that?'.

instead she essentially hands them the responsibility of having a good life, to repay what malcolm did for all of them. and in theory that's not the worst takeaway I suppose, malcolm probably would want them all to be happy, but in the moment it only feels like more expectation heaped upon you somehow? especially since you don't really get to express anything about how it made you feel before she goes to the 'ah no use complaining' zone (after SHE got to express her grief at feeling like she's losing more and more of that old life, and hawke barely got to say anything fhsfalkjfs). in general she really doesn't do much like. parenting, does she haha. there is so much love there in that relationship, and yet so little comfort. Oh, those days. All of us, in that simple place. Well, that's neither here nor there, is it. This life, we have to make the best of it. And thanks to you, and him, I will. Oh well, mum, I'm uh. I'm glad you feel better after that, at least. Nice to be of service.

it's varric's ghost-leandra who actually acknowledges what a burden hawke has taken on, that shows an understanding of why they're doing it, acknowledges the loss they've been through and also reassures them in their sense of belonging that still can't be taken from them, despite it all -- The best of him is still with you. The best of all of us. It's what makes you try so hard. You'll always have that. We'll always be family. (you can't take 'loved' away, huh.) you get a bit more of a reconciliation/reconnection between hawke and their dad's memory by being reminded he got like this too, you know (implicitly you're not alone). varric through leandra is the one who tells them what they probably would have wanted and needed to hear from a parent right then -- It's going to be alright. that's what Hawke, The Champion means to everyone else, and for once they get to be the one to hear it. except only in a kind dream that never really happened. I. it. hmmmmmm. crushing. that is crushing. but also so incredibly tender from varric's side, and so moving to me that he's seen all this stuff and so desperately wants to give them that comfort. anyway DA2 is about love in some of the realest and thus messiest and most human ways I've ever seen and it makes my brain go wild it's my favorite game of all time goodnight

#I don't even know what I'm saying anymore folks please just. accept this. it makes no sense/compels me though etc. #dragon age meta #dragon age #dragon age 2 #hawke #leandra amell #honestly someone should do an analysis of the mother figures of DA2 because oh BOY something is up here #elthina and all her talk of the chantry as a 'gentle mother' very much included #as I believe terry pratchett once wrote: #That's Nature for you in a nutshell. Always dealing off the bottom of the pack. No wonder they called her a mother.

[intheshadowsbehindyou]

This is the size difference nsfw request

Now you’re up my alley..

Mercs with a tiny Y/N (size difference NSFW)

Warning: Uhhh fire play, breeding kink, blah blah.

Scout:

- Fuck…

- You inflate his ego by simply existing within his presence. Bonus points if you’re chunky. He’ll use you as a human fleshlight on his dick. Grabbing at your tummy or whatever is caked. Bouncing you up and down like one of those toys.

- He has a high libido in general and he’ll come back after battles, full of adrenaline, ready to pump you full of his cum. He exposes himself in front of your tiny stature and his erect dick falls out onto your head. You don’t even know if you can take it because of how small you are.

- Forces his dick down your mouth. With consent of course. He’s a pussy about it at first and asks if you’re okay periodically. It’s kind of cute how nervous he is. He thinks he’ll break you like glass if he isn’t careful. You’re tight as fuck and he’s high off the arousal.

————————————————————————-

Soldier:

- “YOUR ORGANS ARE ABOUT TO EAT SHIT, JUST SO YOU KNOW!”

- God dammit. He’s MASSIVE. A big meaty, veiny, cock is stuck out in front of you. Throbbing and already beginning to drip. You swear you could even hear the flesh throbbing eagerly. Ready to breed its mate and force itself through a hole. As you get down for him, it doesn’t matter if you’re a virgin or not. You end up bleeding a little due to his massive size.

- Loves mistreating you. Throws you on your back, pulls your hair, spanks your ass HARD. Eventually you’re forced to take in his entire girth. You could feel him applying force against certain organs. He stretches out your skin as a bulge in your tummy appears. You could feel his thrusts getting shorter and shorter.

- Yeah.. Let’s all be thankful the human body can withstand worse things. Because he unloads what could be only described gallons in you. His legs quiver as his balls empty out. As he pulls out you still feel like you’re full of something. Your lower half growls in discomfort. Soldier is mostly quiet the entire time. You’re (probably) the one whose loud. Taking him isn’t easy.

———————————————————————-

Demoman:

- He’s telling you how small and weak and feeble you are the entire time. Laughing in-between kisses and rubbing your sides. “Ohh, look how small you are. I could just eat ya.” He growls in your ear, voice husky and all. He puts his entire weight on your body when you try to struggle or act up.

- You can feel his erection growing in his pants as he pushes against you. “Ah.. Can ye do me a favor?” He asks breathlessly, holding you down with one hand and undoing his pants with the other; “Get rid of this. Won’t ye?” He takes his dick into his hand and slaps it against your tummy once or twice. “Itse botherin me..”

- Similar to Soldier this shit isn’t easy as the porns make it out to be. Tears well up in your eyes as your body struggles to adjust to his fat cock. The power imbalance is getting him off. He isn’t against roleplaying that he’s a huge werewolf or werebear and you’re his little mouse prey. Bites random parts of your body to make it seem like he’s tasting you.

———————————————————————-

Engineer:

- “Well now, what do we have here?” You hear a rasp, seductive southern drawl behind you in the intel room. Between the dim lights you see Engineer. Leaning against the server machines. “A little birdie told me you wanted to see me here, pardner.. What can I do for you?”

- You have to ask him to get off to you. You explain away and you can’t see a solid expression as always. But the way the team oriented lights reflect off his goggles make it look like two glowing eyes. He tips his hardhat forward without another word and pins you against the wall with one hand. Engineer is a scary dude.

- “Your little puppydog eyes could get you anything, y’know that?” He grits his teeth in frustration. Yanking on your clothing. “Off.” And you obey him without question. Feeling like you were being scolded. He lifts one leg of yours up and flexes on the fact he’s taller than you. A fist holding himself up above your head.

- “You might’ve just made the biggest mistake of your life allowing me to do this.”

——————————————————————-

Heavy:

- He’s incredibly gentle with you. Which says a lot because he’s rarely gentle with anybody. He pets you from head to back as you lap at his dick. Puts two fingers into your ass. Even that in-and-itself is quite much. You struggle at the feeling.

- “Hm.. As i’ve suspected you’re not prepped for me.” He says. Out of all the Mercs his dick is the biggest. He purposely teases you to your edge. Pulling his hand away when he knows you’re about to cum. Next, he takes his dick in hand. “Are you sure you want this?”

- It takes you a while to get yourself used to this. Several days in fact of pure blissful agony. He tries again the next day. No matter how much lube you guys use, it’s always quite difficult. He prematurely cums with a groan one time and you were suspecting to look down and see your stomach on fire. the liquid was hot as it forced its way into your body. You’re surprised you didn’t explode from that much cum being shoved into you.

————————————————————————

Pyro:

- Oh great. Probably the kinkiest in terms of your height. Slams their big fat body onto you and you get crushed. Sorry.

- Play fights with you while masturbating you. Makes you feel humiliated and inferior by pretending they’re a large, bigger criminal coming to get revenge on you for a debt you didn’t pay. Straps you to a chair and crushes you with one thigh on your lap. Teases you with their detonator pointed at your face. Threatens to cook you over a spit roast like the little prey you are if you don’t listen to every word they say.

- They burn your hips and thighs by pressing matches into your skin. They have a branding iron so have fun getting a permanent tattoo just above your genitalia. Don’t worry! They’ll give themselves one to match.

- They become incredibly possessive over your small body during sex. You hear them mumbling something along the lines of “Mine, mine mine mine.”

————————————————————————

Sniper:

- Probably the most violent. Holy shit.

- Chases you around his camper van after you’ve poked his face to get his attention for the hundredth time. Finally pins you down on his bed and bares his teeth in your face. Due to the proximity you can somewhat make out an aroused expression on his face. That being an incredibly sleepy glare.

- “You’re just begging to get a bullet between your eyes, aren’t you? You bloody rabbit.” His voice is low, and seductive. He slams you against the pillow and then rips your shirt off. Shredding it to bits. He runs his tongue across your chest. Tasting you. “Mmm.”

- You can feel his hot breath on your face as he gently slaps your hands away from his own clothes. No. He’s gonna be the one seeing you squirm. Not the other way around. He digs his nails into your shoulders and bites hard on all your soft areas. Yes, even your genitalia. By the time it’s over and he’s satisfied with the way you’ve come, you’re covered in red marks and bruises from head to toe. Barely able to catch a breath.

————————————————————-

Medic:

- “Ach! I don’t have time for such juvenile needs. I’m an old man. I’m too focused on something else half the time. It will only distract me from what’s importan-“ He trails off, the sight of you unbuttoning your uniform is what finally convinces him. Be warned, Medic doesn’t start out as a lovey dovey person during the beginning of your relationship. He’s actually quite cold.

- “So you really want this?” He gives you a challenging glare after regaining himself. His hand up to his chest. As if he was testing the waters. “Fine. Prognosis: Patient is in need of sex surrogacy. Doctor’s notes?: Not surprised.” He goes over to the sink and washes his hands while you get on the hospital bed. He acts completely professional but you can see his superiority complex severely suffering.

- He pulls his gloves over his hands and spreads your legs out. Touching your genitalia and beginning to jerk you off with the aid of lube. His expression is cold and trying to focus as hard as possible. He’s no stranger to checking people’s privates but since you actually want to have sex with him it’s different. He’s trying his hardest not to let his emotions get the better of him..

- You moan at some point, and you hear a “schieße!” Leave between his teeth. He holds you still. Your small body and sensitivity is the cause of his arousal. As he continues forward, he’s slowly losing his mind at the sound of your little squeaks. It was as if you were BEGGING to be dominated by his superior strength. He finally stops and takes his glasses off angrily, standing up. “Gott in himmel. You do horrible things to me.” He hisses, bringing you closer and lifting your legs onto his shoulders as he clumsily undoes his belt. He can’t wait.

————————————————————————

Spy:

- Shameless. During the heat of battle he decloaks within the safety of a building and beckons you with his finger. You know him too well to not suspect this’ll result in a make out session. You happily oblige.

- You walk inside, and he immediately pins you against the hard wood. Shoving his tongue into your mouth. He has to bend over as he does this and nearly kneel because of how fucking small you are. Lifts you up by your legs to hold you at his height. “Mphh! You are quite light.” He says, setting you atop a crate.

- Leaves another kiss on your lips before taking one hand and unbuttoning his suit. Allowing it to hang there and tease you with the fact it’s not fully off. “You will see my masculine, perfect chest soon enough, mon amonur. Ohhh isn’t it just relieving to know a big, big man has you in his safe arms?” He whispers. Licking his lips.

- You whimper when he puts his gloved hand into your pants. “Yeess, That’s the noise I want to hear.” He says, caressing your inner thigh. The feeling of the velvet gloves was stimulating you more. You feel like cumming right on the spot.

#demoman x reader #team fortress 2 #tf2 #heavy x reader #medic x reader #spy x reader #tf2 x reader #tf2 x you #pyro x reader #sniper x reader

[robinmage]

It's curious to me, how the general consensus among others when it comes to Chise's curses are "bad; we need to get rid of it (we just don't know how.)" Which, considering they are both curses made of pain and suffering, makes sense why someone wouldn't want to keep those around.

We (the audience) know vaguely how the curses interact with each other. The dragon's curse: made from strong emotions of anger and despair, provides Chise with her strength and durability against both magical and physical elements, at the cost of her own strength one day tearing herself apart. Cartaphilus' curse prevents her from dying, but offers no protection against injury or decay. Together they "keep each other in check"-- Cartaphilus will keep her alive, the dragon will keep her strong.

A lot of things have happened in the past arc that make it easy to forget the fundamentals of the first season. When the series started, Chise was a few steps away from walking off a roof. Even after she arrived in England, it took a long time before she decided that maybe life wasn't so bad. Her entire life up until that point had been nothing but misery; abandoned and alone, she had no one to protect her from the constant targeting and harassment by both fae and humans alike. She believed that the only way to escape her torment was through death... I think its a facet of her character that goes unfairly unrecognized a lot (especially after the first arc).

When she's in England and is going through her mental/psychological character development, she is still facing the imminent threat of her weak sleigh beggey body constantly failing her. Using magic exacerbates her condition, causing her to be sick and/or incapacitated for significant stretches of time. It's painful, it's uncomfortable, it's frustrating. By the time she realizes she wants to live, her clock is already running quite short.

Her solution is handed to her on a rusted platter. To be "just like everyone else", for once. Finally.

Going to school, hanging out with friends, using magic without it killing her-- all things shes never been able to do before. All thanks to the curses trapped in her. These things that should be considered a horribly tragic fate have now become her salvation. Both physically and mentally, she's the strongest and most resilient she's ever been. Yet, when faced with the idea of liberating herself from her curses...

The curses only work the way they do because they're in sync with each other. Taking away either curse would leave her vulnerable to the other-- the dragon's curse would slowly overwhelm her into a brutally agonizing death, while Cartaphilus' curse would leave her to live and suffer through the constant breaking down of her sleigh beggey body.

When told about the reality of her curses and just how severe they are (not just to her, but to the people around her), she doesn't seem to completely understand what that may mean for herself and her future. Or perhaps, she just doesn't care. After a life where pain and suffering was her "normal", she finally has the means to create something meaningful and positive out of herself. How could that possibly be a bad thing?

She understands on some level that these curses were only ever meant to be temporary. Elias' original goal, to keep Chise alive in spite of her sleigh beggey curse, has not changed. Tacking on two more curses was not a part of the plan, and though they've offered a temporary solution and some time, curses are called curses for a reason. They cannot be relied upon. They've got to go.

But getting rid of those curses (both, or either) essentially puts her back at square one. Back to the pain, discomfort, and illness. She probably won't be able to use magic without hurting herself, too. She's gained freedom in both mind and body for the first time in her life. Sure, she encounters a few hiccups, but considering what she's used to, this is a big step up.

Something has finally given her the power and freedom to spread her wings and fly. Would she be able to clip her own feathers just because that power is "supposed" to be "bad"?

Could she? Could you?

Through it all, everyone she's come across has appointed her curses as a problem. Everyone, except...

#i just find it inchresting. i like this guy i think hes cool but i also think his student is a sociopath #<- things that can also be said about elias and chise i suppose #i just KNOW elias is kicking himself for not knowing the existence of this mage when his student was on deaths door last season #sorry this turned out a lot longer than i thought it would #mahoyome essay writers anonymous lets goooooooooo #tamb #the ancient magus bride #mahoutsukai no yome #mahoyome #chise hatori #im not tagging spoilers anymore go read it whores its FREE !!!!!

[taestefully-in-luv]

Our Time | JJK (Six)

Summary: After an accident and being in a coma for three months, you finally wake. But the last nine years of your life have been completely erased. You rely on none other than your best friend, Jungkook, to help regain your memories and yourself. But what happens when the truth of your missing time starts unraveling and it isn’t all it’s made out to be?

Pairing: Jungkook x Fem Reader (Detective!Jk x Graphic Designer!OC) side pairing: Seokjin x Reader

Genre: crime au, fluff, heavy angst, smut, romance, darker themes, amnesia au. Best friends to ???

Word Count: 10.4k

Warnings: ANGSTY chapter ahead. swearing, frustrations of amnesia, detailed descriptions of anxiety and panic attacks, mentions of blood, mentions of child abduction, lots of crying, confrontation, allusions to infidelity within marriage, feelings of betrayal, mention of suicide/death, obvious alcoholism, umm I think that’s it.

a/n: happy valentines day💕 (I haven’t slept yet so its still vday for me hehe) this is not a romantic chapter at all but I hope you still enjoy it. Thanks for those who have been patiently waiting for this chapter since ive been dealing with a lot lately. Well, I hope you guys enjoy and  please let me know what you think! Send an ask if you want to be added to the taglist or just want to chat :]

© taestefully-in-luv

Previous --- Next

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Generally speaking, light can serve as a symbol of life.

When there is light, it touches and beautifully blinds with bright, shimmering hope. But for you, your eyes have cast any ray of shining light away. And your entire view has been enveloped in the arms of darkness.

If light is a symbol of life but you and your soul are being carried on a ferry across the river of Styx towards the underworld…then is it safe to assume you are no longer living?

Have you truly died on the inside?

And this is your stygian reality?

Because now, in your world, light no longer exists.

You’re thankful for those people who know how to naturally calm others down. Those people who remain collected during a crisis. Those people who can snap someone out of there demise even when they’re rattled as well. Those people who remind you to breathe even when they’ve forgotten.

Well, Subin is not one of those people.

“He knows we’re coming, right?” Subin aggressively tries to exit the parking lot of the market, her eyes going everywhere yet you aren’t so sure she’s even seeing properly. 

“I—I talked to the nurse, s-she said to come now. The doctor should be free…fuck, I hope.” You look out the window, your head spinning while your chest grows tighter and tighter. 

Breathing with calm, even breaths is hard. 

It’s even harder because Subin is tense, her fingers wrapped tightly around the steering wheel as she tries to catch her own breath.

She’s always been the type to cry when others cry. Panic when other’s panic. So on and so forth.

You try your hardest to take a breath before speaking, “Can you drive?” You rest the side of your head against the window, your vision looking blurrier and darker. “J-Just pull ov—”

“—Shit, I’m so sorry, y/n.” Subin’s voice shakes, her eyes trying so hard to stay focused on the road. “I’m okay. I’m okay. You’re okay?” She quickly glances at you, “You’re okay, right?”

You rest your palm against your rapid heart, eyes squeezing shut at the pain and discomfort your chest is feeling. You need to breathe. Relax. 

“I-I’m fine.” You say as composed as you possibly can. “Water? Water? Do you…do you have water in here…?” You tiredly lean your head back, chest rising and falling quickly. “I feel sick.”

“Sick?” Subin clears her throat, though she’s panicking herself, she tries to get her shit together. “Like how?” She glances at you again, “I think there’s a bag behind your seat. Throw up in it if you need to….”

“Water, Subin.” You feel your throat closing in on you, “Do you have—”

“—Um,” Subin keeps one hand on the steering wheel while the other frantically feels the sides and below her car seat. “I think there’s a bottle…” She continues to search, the car slightly swerving but you hardly notice. “Here!”

You manage to open your eyes, sudden relief filling your veins when you see a half empty bottle of water. Subin pushes it towards you before she’s urging you to have some.

“Drink slowly.” She keeps a worried eye on you while driving as quickly as she can to the hospital. 

The moment water begins trickling down your throat, you feel the dizziness that’s consumed you start to subside.

With half of that bottle of water in your system, your vision is less blurry and less dark.

Literally speaking, darkness doesn’t have a veil over your eyes any longer.

But figuratively speaking, not even an ounce of light shines in your world at all.

You still can’t breathe. Because how could you?

How could you with the knowledge you currently have?

You’re convinced you’re having a heart attack…Doctor Lee, however, isn’t convinced about that.

“You’re just panicking.” He tells you softly, his eyes trained on your expressions. “It’s okay. This is completely normal, y/n.”

You quickly shake your head, refusing to accept that it’s only your emotions here that are the problem.

“This is normal…” He reminds you again, a gentle hand patting your back. “Once you accept that this is normal, it’ll get easier to control it. You’re overwhelmed and that’s okay.”

“I-I can’t breathe.” You manage to tell him, fingers tugging at the collar of your shirt. You wish you could tear off your clothes, your skin, all the feelings that bombard you.

“You can breathe.” Doctor Lee brings his hand towards his own body, he motions upward now with both hands as he urges you to inhale deeply. “You’re breathing right now. You’ve been breathing this whole time…even when it was hard, you’re still breathing, y/n.”

He’s…right. Since the market, since the car, since waiting for Doctor Lee to show up in this tiny room—you’ve been breathing the entire time.

You try to nod, swallowing hard but it hurts. 

Actually, it seems the physical pain is disappearing while emotional pain begins to sink it’s teeth into you. Pain is pain, you realize. 

“Good,” Doctor Lee keeps his focus on you, “Can you give me a deep breath?”

You nod, trying your hardest to inhale a breath but it’s sharp and poisoned.

Your eyes slam shut, your entire body closing in on itself. 

“Try to let go of a long breath for me,” Doctor Lee’s voice is soothing, “Feel everything. Gather all of it…and let it go with a long, long breath. Can you do that?”

Feel everything and let it go? How could you do that?

“I can’t.” You shake your head, eyes still slammed shut. “I just can’t.”

“You can.” He tells you, voice still calm. “I’m not asking you to sort through all your emotions right now and just let them go. No,” Doctor Lee sighs out for a moment before he’s pulling his chair out right in front of you and taking a seat. “I’m just asking you to recognize you have them and release them for a moment. That way you can gain more strength for when you eventually have to grab them again. You can’t get stronger if the panic you feel burdens you, y/n. Let’s breathe…” 

You open your teary eyes, teeth digging into your bottom lip as harsh breaths make your entire body grow weaker. Doctor Lee looks pleased just at the fact you’ve opened your eyes. He nods his head with a tender smile before he starts breathing with you. In and out. Slow and rest assuring. 

You aren’t sure how long it takes for you to have calm breaths again.

Doctor Lee doesn’t rush you. He gives you time and space to collect yourself. He’s aware that you are here because some memories have flooded your brain. And he’s aware that it had you drowning. He has told you countless times to reach out to him the moment something like this begins. You guess he anticipated this kind of reaction. 

“Just in case, I still want to run some tests. I’ll get nurse Choi to do labs.” Doctor Lee is scribbling onto his clipboard, but his eyes are still on you. “I know today has been scary for you but I’m sure your results will be fine. It’s always better to be a little more precautious, don’t you think?”

Your limbs are weak, draped over this uncomfortable chair as you give Doctor Lee a noncommittal nod. All of your energy has been drained from your body. Leaving you weak and helpless.

Doctor Lee’s pen comes to a slow stop, his lips turning down as he eyes you. “Hey,” He calls out slowly, your eyes barely lifting to him. “I’m afraid it’s going to be like this…overwhelming. Scary. Emotionally, physically draining.”

You stare at him with empty eyes.

“But this is a good sign, y/n….” He says and you can tell he isn’t necessarily happy to say it. “Your memories are in there and they’re going to start leaking out…and it won’t always be easy.”

You muster what little energy you have to scoff to yourself, “No kidding.”

“It just…it means that the chances of all your memory returning is a lot greater. They can all return to you.” He says much softer. You don’t respond though, making Doctor Lee sigh out in defeat before he’s placing the clipboard down. “This first time will probably be the hardest. It’s the first time you’re receiving new information.”

Your eyes meet his when he says that. Your brows slowly pull together as you think about it. “Well, kind of.” You admit to him. “I remembered a cat…” the space between your eyebrows creases further as you try to make things make sense in your head. “Actually…I have a question.”

Doctor Lee nods immediately, his attentive eyes on you. “What is it?”

“Is it possible to remember some things but not others?” You ask, but shake your head as soon as you ask it. “I mean…for example, I remember a cat that I shouldn’t remember. I only remember the cat though. I don’t remember anything else about the timeline of this cats life. You know, the things happening around this cat.”

Doctor Lee furrow his own brows, trying his best to make sense of what you’re asking.

You try to explain further, “I remember this cat. But I don’t remember that at the same time as this cat, I was also married.”

It seems it finally clicks, his mouth falling a little open as he nods. “I understand.”

“It’s just…the thing I remembered today…I remember certain details but there’s so much still missing.” You pause, the gloomy pressure once again in your chest but you take a deep breath. “Is it…” You meet Doctors Lee’s gaze again. “Is it possible that my brain blocked out an entire person in my memory? But I…” You can feel the tightness returning. “I….I have memory of this person existing within things but I don’t have actualrecollection of this per—person.” 

You shouldn’t feel ashamed the moment you see Doctor Lee’s eyes fill with pity.

“You know,” He clears his throat, blinking away the pity he feels for you. “The brain is truly such a complex thing. Your memories might come to you with no warning and things might not always make sense. Eventually, you might be able to piece some together. And yeah, I’d say it’s entirely possible not to have all the knowing details when you remember an event.”

“Then—”

“—But don’t be discouraged that things will always stay that way. Like you’re going to live your life solving some puzzle.”

Your eyes sting the moment he says that. You’re realizing how true that feels for you…like you’re just a player apart of some game. But you aren’t even sure you have all the puzzle pieces to even play. 

“As overwhelming as it is, this is a good sign. Your memories will most likely return. And maybe even soon.”

You realize he’s saying this as if it’s a positive. 

But you aren’t so sure that you even want them to return anymore.

“It might take Nurse Choi a little while to get your labs started…she’s doing some rounds right now.” Doctor Lee takes a look at his watch, “But I can grab your friend from the waiting room if you’d like me to? You’d be less bored waiting in here.” He smiles.

Though you cannot return his smile, you agree.

~

You know Subin is in this tiny room with you. You watched when one of the nurses brought her in. But even still, you jump in your chair when she calls out for you. Her worried eyes glued to you but you’ve barely noticed. Too busy sorting through the things you’ve seen in your head.

“Are you…” Subin’s voice is delicate over the harsh and rough thumping of your heartbeat. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

You are okay. Because you weren’t experiencing a heart attack.

But are you okay? No, not at all.

You keep staring at nothing and Subin can do nothing but worry in the chair next to you. Her eyes anxiously darting around while you tap your foot against the floor impatiently. 

“y/n…” Subin says your name softly, her concern overflowing. “You—”

“—Exactly.” You give a curt nod, “They must be real.”

Subin frowns when she realizes you aren’t listening to her.

“They have to be real because…” You tear your gaze away from the abyss and bore your eyes into Subin’s. “She said my name, Subin.”

Subin tilts her head, gears working in her head but her confusion only grows. “What?”

“I just…” You drop your eyes back to the floor, focusing on nothing again. “I keep thinking that maybe my brain is making up the things I saw in my head.” You say quietly, your words feeling heavy on your tongue. “It wouldn’t be a first time…” You try to reason, more to yourself. You recall the boat, the lake, the scream, the shadow…what was real and what wasn’t? “I keep trying to think that my brain is just throwing out theories again.”

Subin shifts in the uncomfortable chair, “What…what do you mean?”

You sigh, a hand rubbing at your face tiredly. “I’m thinking of reasons.”

“Reasons?”

You drop your hand to your lap, an uneasy expression falling over your face as you glance at your friend. “A reason not to hate Jungkook.” 

Subin’s eyebrows immediately pinch together, “W-Why?”

You close your eyes for a moment, trying your best to take a deep breath. You hate that your heart feels miserable in your body right now. It’s screaming and it’s crying. Your heart’s loud, pathetic sobs are bouncing off the walls of your ribcage and you don’t know what to do to put it to rest. 

“I have nothing.” You whisper. A heavy feeling begins clinging to you like a cloak you cannot shrug off. “I have no excuses for him.” Your voice cracks, eyes still closed. “I know why I blame him for Haru and I know why we divorced.”

“What? Why?” Subin is suddenly more alert. You hear the way her chair screeches across the tile as she brings herself closer to you. “Are you sure? What…what is it?”

You finally open your eyes, head tilted back as you stare up at the ceiling now. “Nabi.”

It’s silent for a moment. You wonder if Subin heard you or not so you finally turn your head to face her but she looks even more confused.

“Nabi?” She finally gets the name out in question. She tries to think about it but after a moment she gives up. “Who’s that?”

“The girl from that café you like.” You tell her, “She was our server the first time we went together.” 

Subin sits back in her chair, her brain trying to understand what you’re saying. “Okay…a girl from the café is why—”

“—I knew I knew her.” You cut her off, eyes going back to nothing as you focus on Nabi. “She was so familiar and I had no clue why. But she said we didn’t know each other. And I am almost so certain she never heard my name.”

Subin shakes her head, leaning towards you. “And then what?”

“Then I ran into her at the store and I saw so many things.” You get the words out quickly and stop just as fast. You saw a lot of things. Too many things. “I…” You try to speak again but your throat is burning and you heart is crying again.

“You think she had something to do with Haru?” Subin asks you, concern clear in her voice. 

“I…” You pause again. Your chest is feeling tight all over again but you can’t risk losing your ability to breathe now. “She also has to do with my failing marriage.” You keep your eyes low.

“Your marr…” Subin’s words get quieter before her hand goes to your shoulder, “Are you saying that Jungkook knows her?”

You scoff, trying your best to remain calm. But your voice betrays you, “Considering he was cheating on me with her then yeah, I-I would say so.” 

You’re startled when Subin is standing from her chair, concerned eyes forcing themselves to you, “Woah, woah. You don’t really think…” She shakes her head, rejecting the entire idea. “No, you are not saying Jungkook—”

“—I don’t want to be saying that, Subin.” You snap at her, your eyes growing watery as your voice shakes. “But that’s what I’ve—I’ve seen. M-my brain showed me so much and that’s why I…why I keep thinking maybe they aren’t actual memories. That I don’t actually know her.” You feel you are starting to lose control again, your breaths coming out faster. “But Subin,” Your face twists and your heartache is seen. “She said my name. She knows my name. She knows who I am.” 

Subin takes a seat again, unsure of what to say.

“If we know each other…then it means maybe what I saw was…” You swallow hard but not choking on your words is fucking hard. “It was m-maybe real then.”

“But I mean…are you really sure though?” Subin rests a hand over your shoulder. “I’m sorry but…is what you’re seeing…you know, reliable?”

You feel yourself grow weak and small in this chair. Your body slumping over and slightly sliding down as you try to think of a proper response.

“I mean,” Subin’s fingers give you a comforting squeeze, “I’m not saying we shouldn’t trust what you’ve seen…but it’s a tricky situation.”

You know you are dying inside. Truly, even if a flickering light that might have been keeping you alive until this moment has shut off. Because you wish you could agree with her and let that thought alone comfort you. But again, you aren’t ignorant. And you won’t start now.

“No, they’re memories.” You tell her, eyes on the ground. “I know they are. I feel them.”

Subin’s hand drops from your shoulder, a sad and soft ‘oh’ spills quietly from her mouth. 

You try to straighten up in the chair, letting a deep sigh roll off your body. “But until I talk to Jungkook…I can’t really confirm it. Even though I know. I need to talk to him.”

“Can I…” Subin scoots her chair closer to you again, the legs pushed against the legs of your chair. “Can I ask what you saw? Why you think that…that Jungkook was having an affair? And what does it…” She softly trails off, her voice clearly unsure.

“And what it has to do with Haru?” You finally face your friend with sad, blood shot eyes. “He was with herwhen Haru was supposed to get p-picked up.” You continue to stare at Subin, her heart breaking when she sees how you try to hold back tears. “Isn’t it crazy that I know that? That I know about Haru? But I don’t fucking…” You stop when your throat burns too much, words refusing to leave your mouth. You fight through it regardless and finish what you are saying with broken words and a broken heart. “B-But I don’t f-fucking know him?”  

Subin eyes you with pity and you’re sure you’ve received this all before.

“I remember seeing them together. Multiple o-occasions.” You admit to your friend, voice shaky. “It’s hard to tell though…from my memory if it was in person or pictures, videos, I don’t know. I know I confronted him and he just…” Your expression twists miserably. “He could n-never prove to me that my assumptions weren’t—weren’t right.”

“But that doesn’t me—”

“—M-Motel rooms…so many f-fucking secrets, Subin.” You finally properly choke on your words because of a quiet sob in your throat. “A pregnancy test?”

“A what?” Subin’s face falls, “A preg—no, maybe you—”

“As much as I want to believe Jungkook w-wouldn’t…” You slam your eyes shut and finally, several warm tears manage to fall from your closed lids. “But there is so much evidence against him and he could n-never fucking prove...”

“Okay, okay.” Subin’s sweet voice turns even more soothing, her hand returning to your shoulder. “I’m so sorry, y/n.” She whispers, “Seriously…I wish this wasn’t…”

“No,” You straighten up again, your hands desperately wiping at your face. “I won’t mourn y-yet when I haven’t talked to Jungkook.” 

Because somehow…even with your bones screaming the truth at you.

You still want to believe in him.

At least until you are forced not to.

~~~

Subin parks right in front of your house, her worried eyes going between you and Jungkook’s car that is also parked here. 

“We left for the grocery store and came back emptyhanded…” Subin nibbles her lips, her concern growing. “What if he’s like ‘why don’t you have my chips?’ or something…” 

You slowly turn your head to eye Subin, eyes narrowing at her before you deadpan, “Then I’ll just ask him why he cheated on me.” 

Subin’s mouth immediately falls open.

“Or something.” You say before unbuckling your seatbelt. “Anyway, thanks for taking me to the hospital…might end up there again,” You glance out the window towards your home. “Depending how this conversation goes…” 

“y/n…” Subin’s hand lands on your shoulder, stopping you from opening the passenger door to get out, “I just…want to say again how sorry I feel…” Her hand slowly drops when she notices your distant gaze and then she quietly clears her throat. “I hope it’s not what you think but regardless…I’m here for you.”

You finally meet her eye and you can see her sincerity but the best you can do for her right now is give her a small nod of appreciation before you’re opening the door. 

And even though the car door feels heavier than you recall, you still get it open. But your body almost refuses to move. Once again, your brain is sending signals. Telling your body not to go in there. Because you won’t like it. Your brain, mocking you again. Keeping secrets from you because it’s playing some kind of sick and twisted game. 

You’d think your brain was helping you, because of all the signals, but you know that isn’t the case. You know it’s just trying to get a scare out of you because why else would it keep your memories away if not to play with you?

“Hey,” Subin calls out softly, “You can do this…”

And she’s right. You can.

~

Walking through your front door, you have to keep reminding yourself silently over and over to stay strong. Though the urge to break down, falling to the floor while misery consumes you wholly is strong but you don’t. Because you can’t. It would be a bit premature to have the full on meltdown your body is begging for because you still need to face Jungkook.

The moment you close the front door and begin slipping your shoes off, your nose is suddenly invaded with a savory aroma. You glance up, eyes in the direction of the kitchen when you finally realize Jungkook must be cooking. It smells good, you guess. But no matter what is cooking in the kitchen, it’s not good enough to take away any of the pain you are currently feeling.

“y/n?” You hear your name being called. Jungkook’s voice is one you’re used to, one you find comfort in, one you love—so why did you flinch? Why is your body warning you? Signals from your brain again? That fucking dickhead brain of yours. You stand up straight again, eyes still in the direction of the kitchen when you try to take one long, deep breath. 

“y/n!” You flinch again. Frozen in your spot, unable to make your feet mood forward. You stare at the wall ahead and anticipate Jungkook turning the corner and seeing you. You anticipate seeing his face and you anticipate the instant dread you will feel upon seeing him. 

“y/n!” He sings your name cutely this time. 

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

You finally let out an incredibly shallow breath because Jungkook finally appears from the kitchen, his face lit up in excitement when he meets your eye. 

“Hey!” He walks towards you, his hand sliding across the top of the sofa as he gets closer, his eyes glancing around. “Subin in the bathroom or something?”

You need to breathe.

“—Well, since you’re making me my favorite homemade cookies,” He continues chatting with a grin, excited glint so obvious in his eyes. “Which are a dessert. I figured I could make dinner.” He turns to look towards the kitchen, sheepish expression on his face. “I’ve made this dish a hundred times but…” He turns to meet your eye again, his hand lifting to scratch the back of his neck, “Only after we were married. So it will be new for you. But um,” He looks down, sheepish smile still on his face. “It’s actually Haru’s favorite.” 

You haven’t moved a single muscle. 

You haven’t said a word.

You have barely had an audible breath.

Still, Jungkook looks happy in his own world when he brings up your son.

Your son that you can’t even remember. 

“I figure I could share some more stories tonight…about us, Haru…” Jungkook keep his eyes on his feet, still scratching the back of his neck. Almost looking shy. “Well, of course if you think you c…could…” Jungkook trails off when he finally lifts his eyes towards you but he isn’t met with same you that left for the store a few hours ago. He’s met with a you that he almost recognizes. Like he’s seen this expression before. On the you, that only he really knows.

“y/n?” His brows slightly pinch together, confusion draping over his features. “Are you…” He glances around again, “Where’s Subin? And where’s the things from the store?” 

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

You didn’t realize you were capable of being a coward.

You want to move your feet. You want to open your mouth to speak. Hell, you want to blink. But you aren’t capable of anything. Except being a fucking coward. 

Because you are afraid. You’re terrified. For more reasons than you can count. 

You’re imprisoned, once again.

“Hey,” Jungkook studies your face, his concern evident. “What’s going on?” 

Feeling a bit hesitant, Jungkook still walks closer to you. His concern only growing because you still don’t move, you still don’t make a sound, you still stare at him with wide eyes. 

You stare at him and you only have one repeated thought that wanders around in your head. How easy would it be? How easy would it be to live ignorantly? The thing you have always refused to do. How easy would it be? How easy would it be to pretend your ‘memories’ are just theories that you brain is throwing out for fun? How easy to only trust Jungkook. And not yourself. 

“y/n…” Jungkook’s eyes fill with worry. “Are you…” He lifts a hand towards you and you watch as it rises towards your face but your entire body jolts when you hear a loud slapping sound. Your dry lips finally part and you’re blinking repeatedly. You shoot your eyes to Jungkook’s face, only to see his expression completely twisted. 

He stands frozen in front of you, hand still hangs in the air as his eyebrows pull together and his jaw hangs slack. 

Your eyes go from his face to his hand when you lower your eyes to stare at your own hand.

You slapped his hand away. 

Your brain sent signals to your body and that was the result.

So, no. To answer your question—it wouldn’t be fucking easy.

You both stand here, shocked by your own action. 

Jungkook’s confusion only grows deeper, his hand slowly lowering to his side again when he takes a small step back. “Oh.” He says softly, the hurt is in his voice and it makes you wince. Or cringe. You aren’t sure which. 

You try to open your mouth so words can force their way out but instead you notice the feeling of pins and needles start to poke at your skin. Your fingers, your toes, your lips. Confused, you bring your fingers to your mouth, fingers barely grazing over your bottom lip where it tingles uncomfortably. You drop your hand, curling your fingers in and out as you try to make sense of what’s happening. 

You stare down at yourself, your chest rising and falling quickly.

When did you start breathing again?

And when did you start breathing this rapidly?

You glance around, feeling trapped because you’re sure this room is closing in on you. Everything is beginning to feel close and suffocating, like the walls are inching closer and closer, caging you in so you can suffer. Harsh, heavy breaths are pushing past your lips now. Panicked eyes going everywhere but Jungkook. Your throat…it’s closing in on you. Just like your walls. Your throat is growing smaller and smaller, your hands quickly flying to your neck and chest, as you touch yourself desperately. 

“y/n.” Jungkook is in front of you again, his eyes totally focused on you and his worried eyes grow antsier. “Hey, what is happening?” His voice sounds rushed, panicked even. “Talk to me.”

You can’t talk though. You can’t swallow your own spit. You can’t even breathe. 

“y/n.” Jungkook reaches for you again, both his hands on your arms but you flinch immediately, your blown out eyes landing on him when you shove him off.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” You scream out, voice shrill and uneven. “D-Don’t fucking touch me, Jungkook.” You take several wobbly steps back, your breaths still rough and rapid. 

Jungkook’s hands hang in the air, holding nothing but the ghost of your body he once knew. 

His eyes are boring into the empty space and you see how utterly hurt he looks. 

But you don’t have it in yourself to feel compassion for his confusion. Because right now, you only see Nabi’s face in your mind, along with Jungkook’s right next to her. 

You wish you could control how your mind and body are feeling right now because if it were up to you, you would be calm and confronting Jungkook with ease because you are supposed to trust him. But you can’t control your anxiety, your panic or your dread.

Slowly lowering his arms, Jungkook tries to find your eyes with his and you notice the fear plaguing them. “y/n…” He tries your name, the word falling soft and cautious from his lips. “What’s going on?”

You squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, tingly lips and fingers making you feel even more strange as quick breaths force their way out of you. You need to relax. Fucking relax. You need to get it together so you can dismiss the images in your brain and fall into the arms of the man in front of you because you love him and you trust him. That’s right. Get this conversation over with so you can move on. Because surely, your brain is wrong.

“Um,” You pry your eyes open but your vision is a bit blurry from unfallen tears. “Okay…” You take several deep breaths, trying your hardest so you’ll be able to speak.

“Take your time.” Jungkook says in a whisper. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

You will be okay. You hope.

“Jungkook.” Your chest still rises and falls with each deep breath. “I-I have to…” You pause, tongue darting out to lick your dry lips. “I…I ran into Nabi at the store.”

Your words aren’t rushed as you say them, in fact, everything feels slow. Even Jungkook’s eyes widening and the fear inside them only grow fiercer seems to happen slowly. Like, the world around you is in slow motion until suddenly it’s not. Jungkook’s eyes quickly shoot down to the wooden floors as you see his mind working in overdrive.

“I know who she is.” You find the courage to say, “I ran into her before…she s-seemed familiar. But today, I suddenly got mem—”

“—What did you see?” Jungkook quickly looks at you again, panic written all over his face. “You probably didn’t—”

“—Did you cheat on…did you ch…” You stop, the words too painful as they sit on your tongue like a knife slicing it apart. “J-Jungkook were you having an—”

“—No!” Jungkook suddenly walks closer to you, his hands desperate to reach for you but he doesn’t. Perhaps, he’s afraid you’ll slap them away again. “Fuck, y/n, I—”

You see his anxiety clear as day and somehow it only makes you feel worse. Your breaths grow slower and something close to despair throws its arms around you and holds you close. “Jungkook,” You don’t want to ask it. You don’t want the answer. “Were…were you with her when Haru was taken?”

Jungkook’s rolls his lips until they’re set in a firm line across his face, his eyes closing for a brief moment and you notice regret sticking to him. 

“Were you?” You repeat.

He opens his eyes again and with a quiet voice, he finally responds. “Yes.”

You suck in a sharp breath, but you try to remain as calm as possible. “Okay.” You give a curt nod, “And…have you gone to motels with her?”

He glances up briefly,  jaw clenching, “Yes.”

A stab to your chest, “Okay. B-Before Haru was taken…were…” Your throat burns like acid sticks to the walls, “Were we having problems in our m-marriage?”

Jungkook’s expression twists, scrunching in panic, perhaps. “Yes.” He admits with a shaky voice. 

You give a small nod before asking the question that makes or breaks this. “Were you seeing her because of a case?”

Jungkook immediately looks at you, wide, panicked eyes and you see how they fill with tears. His mouth drops open but only a shallow breath comes out. You wait for his answer. Need his answer. He quickly shuts his mouth, head turning to the side as you see him struggle to even look at you now, “No.” He finally says, the word pushed out as if he was in agony. And maybe he is. 

He said no. 

And just like that, you have your answer. Just like the past, he offers nothing more to ease your mind. No proof that there isn’t an affair happening. You stare at him. Lips parted and eyes blinking slowly. 

Your breaths are calm. But you feel weak. Like his simple answer drained every bit of life out of your body. You almost wish you could scream, cry or even through something from the rage that must be inside you. 

But it feels like there is nothing inside you. 

This betrayal only has you feeling empty.

“You…” Your voice cracks, thick tears bubbling over and falling from your eyes. “You were…”

“y/n.” Jungkook finally looks at you again and he sounds terrified. “Please, please, I am begging you, to please trust—”

“—Trust you? Fine.” You cry out, “Tell me exactly what was going on then. Tell—Tell me everything!” You take a step forward, your voice clearly begging. “Explain the fuck-fucking situation, Jungkook. So I can fucking believe you.” 

Jungkook stares at you, confliction in his eyes like how you’ve gotten used to. 

“You can’t, right?” You scoff, tears wetting your warm cheeks. “You couldn’t then either. Y-You just can’t fucking tell me the truth, right?”

Jungkook finally breaks. His lips twisting, eyes shutting in frustration and you see his own tears. “y/n please…” He begs too, his hands going to his face, rubbing his tired eyes. “Fuck, please…you need to just….y/n…please just,” He chokes on his words, a quiet sob in his throat. “I can’t d-do this again, please…I can’t do this y/n.” He cries into his hands. “I fucking can’t. I can’t. Fuck fucking everything.” 

You watch as he cries for himself. Feeling bad for himself. Pity for himself. Instead of being honest with you, he does this. 

“Please trust me. Don’t trust what you’re see—”

“—You’re asking me to trust you but not myself?” You ask in almost disbelief. You might not remember everything but it seems your feelings from that time are still so alive inside you. And that’s what you’re going to trust. “You want me to believe you but not believe prior accident me? That d-doesn’t sit right with me.” You tell him. 

“y/n…” He wipes at his eyes and his nose before trying to look at you, eyes afraid and pathetic, “Please don’t do this again…I can’t do this without you again,” He shakes his head, bottom lip quivering. “Please, my love.” 

You take a step back, feeling overwhelmed. “D-Don’t call me that.”

It feels strange to be called that by him. Strange yet familiar. And you thought the oddness that accompanied the term of endearment is because you just aren’t used to it yet. But really it’s because he isn’t supposed to be calling you that. Not anymore.

Your teeth dig into your bottom lip, not an ounce of pain felt. “You know,” You cry out in a whisper, “I don’t remember everything. But,” You try to speak through your tears. “But this heartache feels all too familiar. You need to leave…”

And somehow the despair in Jungkook’s eyes and the terror and look of defeat on his face also feel all too familiar. 

Because you have both been through this before already.

~~~

It’s been a week since running into Nabi and confronting Jungkook. A week since you’ve cried. A week since you’ve felt anything rumbling inside your body. A week since you’ve left your house. A week since you’ve ate a proper meal. A week since you’ve felt anything beyond an empty despair. 

Lying in bed at dawn, you lazily poke at Haru’s robot, the cold plastic on your fingertips. You poke it in the chest, over and over, soft yet determined.

“Do you have a heart in there?” You quietly ask it, somehow disappointed when it doesn’t answer you. “You…” You softly grip the toy, bringing it closer to your chest when you sigh out. “You don’t sleep either, right?”

And in the last week, the only one you’ve really talked to is this robot. Haru’s robot. You believe the comfort you feel from talking and holding this toy is because deep down you feel its familiarity with it being your sons. But also, you find yourself relating to this robot. Both empty, skin cold like plastic and neither of you having the ability to sleep. Only the option to ‘shut down’. 

You glance towards the window, the sun rising again like it always does. And you wish it didn’t. You don’t want to see the sun, you don’t want to see any light. How could the world keep on going when for you, personally, it’s ended. 

Your phone has been going off all week, your friends and parents expressing their concern for your quiet mood. Your parents don’t necessarily know what’s going on but Misuk and Subin have a better idea, considering Subin was there for the first half. You have asked for space and you’ve manage to let them know every night that you’re still here. Even when you kind of don’t want to be.

Jungkook hasn’t reached out even once. 

You don’t want to talk to him but the fact that he’s quiet…it feels even more solidifying that he’s guilty. 

And the fact your heart is broken beyond repair and it is so completely familiar to you…tells you he’s been guilty since then.

It hurts. It hurts more than you ever thought possible. Because even with missing memories, you feel how badly this hurts. Even though you don’t fully recall your actual relationship, you feel it. How real it was. How beautiful it was. How tragic it was. 

You can feel the pain as if you actually never forgot it.

And that’s why you’re choosing to trust yourself.

You barely react when your phone goes off, eyes lazily sliding over to the device that lays abandoned on the other side of the bed. You debate checking it. But for whatever reason, you reach for it and see it’s only a text from Misuk asking if you’re free today. 

You aren’t necessarily ready to face anyone quite yet but still, you tell her yes. You have received a few more memories that you’re piecing together like a jumbled up story and you’d like to talk about them.

~

“Are you…” Misuk eyes you over, pity all over her face as she leans back into the sofa, “You know, eating?”

“Sometimes.” You shrug, “I made an iced coffee today if that counts.”

“It doesn’t.” Misuk sighs out, “Why don’t I order us something? Subin should be here any second so I don’t want to ask her to pick something up when she’s this close by.”

“If you’re hungry, sure.” You shrug again. You keep your eyes lowered, fingers picking at your cuticles. 

It’s only a few minutes later when Subin has joined you and Misuk on the couch. Her antsy hands running up and down her thighs as she waits for you to answer her question.

“So?” She softly urges you to respond.

“Yeah,” You reply quietly, eyes on your lap as you look completely detached from the conversation. “My memories were right, I guess.”

You hear Subin release a long breath before she curses, “Shit…”

You shrug, “I guess my miserable life before the accident continues, huh?” You chuckle bitterly, eyes losing focus on anything.

“At first you were.” Misuk whispers, “But lately you had gotten…I don’t know, maybe—”

“—Well, I’m actually probably more miserable than before. Because I have to rediscover everything and feel each little thing…one,” You start picking at your cuticles again, “By one.”

“y/n…” You can hear the pity in Subin’s voice.

“And this time, instead of feeling upset about my probably dead child, I can just feel guilty for not even remembering him. Mother of the year.” You rip back a piece of skin from the corner of your pinky, blood immediately pooling but you don’t care. You move to the next finger. 

“y/n.” Misuk says your name in shock, “You don’t believe that for one second.”

You snap your head up, “Believe what?”

“That Haru is—”

“—I don’t even fucking know him.” You spit out. “And maybe it’s best that I never—”

“—You don’t mean that!” Subin cuts in, a soft disappointment in her voice. “I know this is hard and…” She stops talking when you narrow your eyes at her.

“You know how hard this is? Oh, do you?” Your lips turn up at the corner before you nod your head, “This happened to you before? You know what I’m going through?”

“Hey,” Misuk’s voice is scolding, “You know what Subin means.”

“Do I?” You scoff. “Let’s be honest guys,” You look between the two of them. “Do either of you even know me anymore? Do I even know you anymore? You said it yourself,” You look back down to your hands, “We barely speak anymore.”

“We barely speak because of you.” Misuk points out coldly, “You shut us out. And you’re trying to do it again! Like, wow here we go again.”

Your brow arches, almost looking amused. “Again?” You spit the word out. “Well, sorry Misuk, sorry that things fucking suck and I’m not here smiling for you. Again. I barely recall the first time this all happened and you’re mad I’m fucking reacting. Mad that I’m mad. I’m sad. I’m fucking heartbroken!” You cry out the last line. “I love you but maybe let’s not act like a bitch when neither of you know what the fuck I’m going through, hm?” You raise your brows at her with icy eyes. 

Misuk’s brows furrow but you see something flash across her face. It’s not anger. You don’t even think she’s offended. Instead you see understanding. She slowly nods her head, glancing at Subin before she clears her throat. “Okay, I’m sorry.” She says quietly, “You’re right…you’re totally right and I’m sorry. I guess…” She pauses.

“We just miss you, y/n.” Subin continues for Misuk, “We’re afraid to lose you again. That’s all. But you’re right, you shouldn’t have to act like everything is okay when it’s not.”

Misuk nods, eyes searching for yours, “And it’s not.” She says softly, “I really am sorry.”

You continue to stare down at your lap, lips pressed into one another. 

“If you’re able…why don’t you tell us what you do remember?” Misuk tries to get you to open up again instead of shutting down. You know this. You want to answer…it’s why you let them come over in the first place.

You nod, eyes still lowered. “Okay.”

Subin reaches over and gives your shoulder a squeeze, “Whatever feels manageable. Don’t push yourself too much.”

Finally lifting your eyes towards your friends, you decide to fill them in. “I’ve been remembering a few things.” You admit. “Not actual memories? I don’t know how to explain it. Not…you know, movie scenes in my head but I remember certain things because it’s like…I just know.  Does…does that make sense? No, it probably doesn’t, right?” 

“Like you’re remembering facts rather than images?” Misuk asks and you immediately nod your head quickly.

“Yes!” You say with a bit of enthusiasm. “That’s exactly it. So, basically…just things I know about our—Jungkook and I’s—marriage.”

“Oh.” Subin’s eyes are eager to know more.

“Misuk was right. It was rocky.”

“I knew it.” Misuk curses, “You never really outright said it but…I kind of figured. You never were the type to admit something like that since you’re the type to solve things by yourself.” 

“I guess I didn’t really solve anything.” You feel your body grow heavier. “I asked Jungkook if things were rough before and he admitted that it was. Since then, it’s like little facts are showing up in my brain out of nowhere…like his admission unlocked some part of my memories or something…”

“Were you two just fighting a lot?” Subin asks.

You try to think about it. It’s not like you remember a specific argument but you know the answer is yes. “Yeah.”

“But you think he was having an affair with…” Misuk glances at Subin, “What was her name again?”

“Nabi.” You say. “But our problems were starting before that, I think. I know we were fighting all the time. I just know. I also know he was keeping things from me. He was barely home anymore and I felt…” You chew on your lips, unsure of what exactly it was since you don’t know everything. But one word keeps popping up in your mind. “Unfulfilled.” You say, the word somehow resonating with you like you’ve said it before.

“Yeah.” Misuk agrees quietly, “You mentioned something like that in the past…way before Haru’s kidnapping.”

“Misuk,” You suddenly find her eyes, “Why did I lead you to believe Jungkook was wronging me somehow?”

“You mentioned someone else.” She tells you, “But you didn’t give me any detail. But you were so…sureabout something and I believed you. Your expression.” Misuk frowns, “I knew something serious must have had occurred because I had never seen you like that.”

You glance back down at your lap, your focus on your hands again. “I see.” Then you lift your eyes again, “I remember that at that time I was suspicious of Jungkook. Of the affair. I know I dug deeper and found things that I wish I never had…” You recall the memories that hit you at the market. “Eventually I confronted him and just like now, he was unable to give me an explanation. And I was right.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” Misuk huffs out, eyes going to the ceiling. “That’s terr—”

“—And he was with her. When Haru was taken. I don’t know how I know, but he was supposed to be picking Haru up from daycare. I don’t know why I wasn’t able to but I know that it was something I needed from him…something for him to do to make me feel like he was a part of this family. But he failed.” Your words grow quieter with each syllable. “And I know that for the first time in my life,” You stare at nothing, eyes growing watery. “That I hated someone. With my entire being.” 

It's quiet. Neither of your friends having the courage to say anything to your words. 

You try to clear your throat and blink back any tears in your eyes before looking at them again, “But still, so much doesn’t make sense and there’s so much still missing.” You feel your heart grow weaker as you chuckle humorlessly, “And Jungkook hasn’t tried to reach out to me even once…which just feels like more proof.” 

“I can’t imagine Jungkook even looking at someone who isn’t you…” Subin whispers, “He…well, I guess we don’t ever really know what goes on. I find it hard to hate him but seeing what he’s done to—"

“—I know I truly hated him then.” You cut her off with a shaky voice. “And I think I hate him now, too. But,” You search both of your friends eyes with desperation so depressing, “If I hate him this much it’s because I also,” You choke, “Love him this much too, right?” You ask the question so innocently and delicately as your voice cracks.

 You let yourself feel your own question and for the first time since a week ago—you cry. You let tears fall and you let your body break. “Because—Because I do. I love him so much that its hurting me. I…I can’t even b-breathe because I love him. I can’t—can’t sleep because I love him.” You shoulders shake as you sob loudly. Almost like a child. “I can’t remember my own child be—because I love him.” You slam your eyes shut, mouth hung open as you choke on your sobs. “My brain c-can’t show my memories because I love him. He’s—he’s the only thing my b-brain wants to think about.” 

At a loss for words, Misuk and Subin feel their hearts breaking in their chests. This is more devastating than the first time. They realize, you were right, this is more miserable.

~~~

It’s been three weeks since Jungkook has seen you. Since he’s seen you, his light. The only thing in this entire world that could possibly make him feel alive. The only thing in the entire universe that could make his heart beat again. You’re the only one keeping him from going insane or ending his own life. He had always held onto the hope that one day this will be behind you guys. 

And then he can touch you again, hold you again, openly love you again.

But mostly, for you to love him again. 

His apartment is how it always is, TV blaring with the news on. The blueish light illuminates his entire living room and lately it has been his only source of light. You, his true source, no longer rising in his sky. 

It’s around four in the afternoon when Jungkook’s phone starts going off, the vibrating making his coffee table buzz. He rubs his eyes with a fist before setting his nearly empty beer bottle down to the table and reaching for the device.

Jimin.

Jungkook rolls his eyes before answering, “I told you to leave me alone.” He slurs into the phone.

“Are you fucking drunk again?” Jimin doesn’t hide his disapproval. “Going to pull this shit again, Jungkook?”

“Fuck off, Jimin.” Jungkook brings the phone away from his face and ends the call. 

Not even ten seconds pass before his phone is buzzing again in his hands. He groans loudly as he answers it again, “What the fuck do you—”

“—Just fucking listen, you moron.” Jimin cuts in, “I’m already risking everything by being in contact with you. And now you’re back to your old ways.” He scoffs, “If you fuck this up, I swear I’ll come to your shit apartment and kick your ass myself.”

Jungkook drunkenly chuckles into the phone, “You don’t have to help—”

“—Help you?” Jimin scoffs again, “I’m not doing this for you and you know it.”

“Whatever,” Jungkook grumbles while reaching for his beer again and taking a swig, “What do you want?”

“Lee Jaesung.” Jimin says.

Immediately Jungkook leans forward on his couch, something more serious falling over his face before he asks, “What about him?”

“Well, he was the only thing getting us closer to this shit.”

“Yeah?” Jungkook sets the beer down again, “Does he have new information?”

“He’s dead.” Jimin informs with a bite to his tone, “Guy was found in his apartment. Apparent suicide.”

Jungkook grits his teeth, “Fucking bullshit.” 

“I know.” Jimin sighs, “You’ve been MIA and I need you to get your shit together if we’re going to—”

“—Count me out.” Jungkook slurs into the phone, “I’m done.”

Jimin is quiet for a moment before he’s chuckling into the phone, “You’re really back to this, huh? You’re sad, Jungkook. I told you years ago you were going to ruin your marriage. Didn’t I?”

Jungkook grips the edge of the couch cushion, eyes growing darker as he watches the bright TV screen. “Shut up.” He seethes, “Don’t bring up—”

“—You ruined your entire life you fucking drunk.” Jimin spits at him, “Fix your shit then call me.”

Jungkook keeps the phone to his ear despite the fact that Jimin has hung up. It slides down his cheek and eventually falls to the floor as he continues to stare at the bright screen of his TV. He is here again. And it’s not like he can’t not believe that he’s back to this because it never feels like he ever wasn’t like this. This is just who he is now. It’s the him that he knows. And when you woke up knowing the him he used to know…it almost felt like he could be that person again.

Having to tell you about Haru again…heartbreaking.

But having to see you experience that same betrayal and heartache…pure utter torture.

Jungkook drunkenly reaches for the TV remote and shuts it off, the room going completely dark. His closed blinds and heavy drapes block out the sun that isn’t you. He is in darkness because in his life there is no light.

Because you aren’t here anymore.

~

“Yes, well, believe it or not…” You sigh into your phone, small smile on your lips. “I’m actually getting out of the house today.” 

“To eat a real meal?” Misuk asks knowingly.

“Kind of?” You laugh. “I’m in the mood for coffee but like, not from my coffee pot.” 

Misuk tsks, “Fine. But at least buy a cookie or something too.”

“Yeah, yeah.” You tell her, “I found a cute café not too far away. Not a full menu place with servers like the one Subin likes—not that she even wants to go there anymore—but this place is like a little hole in the wall. Good reviews too.”

“I wish I could ditch work and join you.” She whines, “But I’ll have to stick to break room coffee.”

“Sounds horrible.”

“Oh, it is.” She laughs, “But okay. I hope you enjoy the café.”

“Me too,” At this point you hope you enjoy anything.

But the world is still dark.

And you’re hoping a nice outing with a good caffeinated drink could offer a little shining light in this complete darkness that consumes you. Even if it’s temporary. 

“I’ll talk to you later, Misuk.” You say before you’re both hanging up.

You look ahead, eyes on the building in front of you. You didn’t tell Misuk you’re actually already here but too afraid to get out of your car and walk inside. You aren’t sure why you’re afraid. Maybe it’s because it’s your first real outing since memories started coming to you. Maybe you’re afraid the more places and people you see, it will trigger more to unlock.

And you’re afraid of more truths that you wish would stay hidden would reveal themselves.

It’s hard but you finally manage to get out of your car and force your legs to take you inside. But the moment you step inside and you’re greeted with the smell of coffee and baked good, you immediately relax. 

It’s not a busy place at all. It’s small maybe the size of your living room and kitchen combined. Just a long counter with cookies, cakes and breads that smell delicious and an artsy menu board hanging on the back wall with a long list of drinks. And along one of the walls and all the windows is small, round tables with chairs. 

You take a breath before walking to the counter and a girl with bright eyes greets you with a heartwarming grin. When you tell her you’ve never been, she happily gestures to the menu and begins telling you all her favorite drinks. And she claims you must try their chocolate cookies.

“Hm,” You weigh all your options, feeling tempted by the lavender tea she mentioned. “Okay yeah, I’ll get that.”

“And a cookie too?” She smiles.

You can’t help but chuckle, it’s as if Misuk told this girl to ask you that. “Sure, a cookie too.”

“Okay!”

After you pay, the girl motions towards a wall with a bookshelf, “Feel free to browse. I’ll have you order up soon and I’ll call for you.” 

“Thanks.” You smile.

You decide to take her up on it, eyes browsing this bookshelf while your fingers brush against the spines. There’s some books you recognize and a ton that you don’t. You can tell which books are popular and which aren’t—the dust giving it away.

After several minutes of looking over book titles, the girl calls you over since your drink and cookie are ready. You excitedly go to the counter, hands reaching for the items and your nose is being blessed. You can tell this cookie is about to change your world.

“Thanks!” You say before excitedly and quickly turning around to find a table when you literally run into someone. This needs to stop happening to you. It wouldn’t be such a big deal if—

“Ah, Hot! Hot!” An unexpected voice yelps, “Hooooooooly shit, that’s hot!”

“Oh my god, I am so sorry.” You stare at a broad chest, a button up shirt completely soaked as you begin to panic. “Are you—Are you okay?”

The man in front of you starts airing his shirt out, trying his best for the hot liquid to not burn his chest, you’re sure. “Ooooooh,” He whistles out, “That hurts.”

“Oh my god…I’m…I am so so—”

“—No worries,” He starts laughing, still airing the shirt. “It kind of feels like that first moment when you get under a hot shower.” 

You stare at his chest, completely panicked…he’s not going to press charges, right? Is that a thing? You could have seriously burned him! “Are you okay? Seriously—” You finally rip your eyes from his shirt to get a look at him. 

“Seriously,” He laughs more, “I’m okay.”

You gaze at him, his smile is spread across his face while he looks down at his shirt now.

“Good thing I keep extra shirts at work.” He says before glancing back up and locking eyes with you. “No harm here.”

You feel guilt sink it. “Oh my god, I hope I didn’t ruin your shirt…will it stain?” 

“You’re worried about this shirt?” He laughs loudly while his eyes crinkle cutely. “Wow, my mom would be so happy that at least someone cares about this thing. It was a Christmas present…and I’m pretty sure it was actually meant for my brother.”

You can’t help but snort, “Oh.”

“Literally only wearing it because I’m hoping something will happen to it and I can finally have a reason to throw it away.” He smiles, “And finally,” He looks up at the ceiling and pumps the air with his fists, “I can get rid of it!” 

You watch him, unsure if he’s serious or just trying to make you feel better. But either way…it does make you feel better.

“Is it still hot?” You find yourself asking, eyes back on his wet chest.

“Nah,” He waves you off with a goofy grin, “Now it’s sort of just sticking to me uncomfortably and it’s cold now.”

“Oh.” You suddenly feel bad again.

“Which is great because the sun is unforgiving today, don’t you think? So hot.” He begins fanning himself, grin still on his face before he glances down to the package in one of your hands. “Is that a chocolate chip cookie? Those are the best here!”

You look down, “Oh…oh yeah. Um, it is.”

“You should probably eat it, maybe you’ll finally smile. They’re that good.” He winks at you, “Or if you drowning in guilt over here, you could always let me have a piece too and we can call this whole,” He motions between you both, “thing even.” 

You stare at him for a moment, completely taken aback by his energy. He’s still smiling and it feels infectious, like you want to smile too.

And you do.

Though it is small and timid. You do.

In all this overwhelming darkness that has wrapped its arms around you, suffocating you in an unwanted embrace…all you really need right now in your life is some sort of light getting shed so you can finally see something besides your own despair. 

You just need some light. 

And little do you know that a bright, bright light is coming into your life.

And that light has a name.

And he goes by Kim Seokjin.

~

Next

#bts #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook fluff #bts fluff #jungkook angst #bts angst #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts fanfic #jungkook fics #Kim namjoon #Kim seokjin #seokjin smut #min yoongi #jung hoseok #park jimin #Kim taehyung #our time chapter 6

[strawberrygrapesandcherry]

The wolf heads to the drivers side of the door, which gives Liam mere moments to understand what was about to happen next. Liam averts his gaze in just enough time to give Theo his privacy as he shifts back into his human form. He hears the door open and the soft sound of clothes as Theo got dressed.

“You can open your eyes you prude,” Theo scoffs.

Liam turned hesitantly to face Theo right before rolling his eyes at the other boy. “Ha ha,” Liam mumbles dryly with no humour in his tone. That doesn't matter as it doesn’t deter Theo from grinning from ear to ear at Liam’s discomfort. “I never knew you could fully shift.”

“Well, now you know.” Theo responds lightly, even as Liam’s expression continues to twist into more confusion.

“Where the hell have you been?” Liam asks. Straight to the point. Not Theo’s preferred way of interacting with each other for the first time in almost four months.

“I don’t know Liam,” Theo starts as he shrugs nonchalantly. “Around town?”

Sensing that he would ignore him, Liam continues to his follow up question. “What were you doing in the preserve this late anyway?”

“I should be asking you that question because, what time is it?” Theo starts while dramatically checking his wrist, where there is no watch, for the time. “Look at that, its way past your bedtime little wolf.” For what will definitely not be the last time tonight, Liam rolls his eyes once again at the chimera. “I was going on a run, which I also assume you were doing.” Theo finally responds to Liam’s question.

“Where the hell have you been?” Liam repeats his former question as he stares intensely at Theo. Oh here they go. Theo should have known better than to underestimate Liams persistence.

“Jeez Liam, what’s it with you and interrogating me.” It sounds like a question but Theo doesn’t really expect nor want an answer. “I think I get to ask some questions too,” Theo looks to Liams blood stained palms where he’d punctured the skin there deeply with his claws, though he doesn’t exactly remember when that happened. “I thought you had your wolf under control.” Again, Theo’s doing that thing he usually does where he makes an observation and makes it sound like a question, because he’d have to be a fool not to know that Liam is loosing himself.

For the last few months since they had defeated Monroe at the hospital, Liam’s been... going through it, as Mason would say. After the Anuk-ite and the older members of the pack left, Liam’s been feeling overwhelmed by all the responsibilities he feels that he has to carry. The kind of duties that have frustrated him enough that he had to go for a run in the first place. Hayden left, so now he doesn’t have an anchor, and Scott left so he doesn’t really know what to do with himself or what to do about future supernatural threats in beacon hills in general, and everything is changing way to fast and way too soon and it all just—

“Liam?” Theo’s waving his hand in an attempt to grasp Liam’s attention. “Earth to Liam.”

“Sorry, what were you saying?” Liam shakes his head, trying to clear his mind and rid himself of the worry and stress that had washed over him.

“I said that you need to find a new anchor.” He pauses briefly before adding, “Whatever you’re doing now, clearly isn’t working.”

“Well I didn’t have an anchor for months after Hayden left, so it’s not a big deal.” Liam tries to defend. He’s not exactly sure when it started, but his heart rate and breathing had increased significantly since the two of them were by the truck. Get a grip of yourself, he tries to tell himself.

“I don’t think you should shrug it off just like that, It’s not even a full moon, and you’re already loosing control.”

“Its fine.” I’m fine. Hot air makes its way to his upper lip as Liam tries to regain his composure. The sun, the moon, the truth. That stupid mantra wasn’t shit anyways. He knows it doesn’t work, and he knows it never really did. Maybe Theo’s right. It’s not a thought Liam likes to entertain, but whether he likes it or not, Theo was right about him getting angry when he was scared, so...

“Is it?” Theo taunts with the slightest tilt of his lip as he tries to bite down his amusement. “I only ask because as much as I don’t like you, I know you’d be mortified by the local paper headlines. Teenage boy, a student at beacon hills high, found running naked at night in the—“

A loud crack echoes in Theo’s ears as he feels a sharp pain throbbing in his nose. His head goes all light and dizzy, and he can’t tell if it’s from the force of Liam’s punch at his nose—surprise, surprise, I wonder when this has happened before—or if it’s the whiplash he’d gotten when the momentum from Liam’s arm sent him plummeting to the ground. Either way his face is in absolute agony. Theo’s quite used to being decked in the face, over and over again; he knows he’s an asshole okay. But it’s been a while since he’s fought with anyone, especially someone with superhuman strength that may or may not be stronger than his own.

“What the fuck?!” Theo screams at Liam while his fingers rush towards his nose. He roughly pulls it back into place to allow the bones to heal faster and with less complications. Even with supernatural healing, trying to fix a broken bone by breaking it again so you can set it back properly, hurts like a fucking bitch. Theo is still on the ground, rubbing under his nose to rid his upper lip of the blood that spluttered there just moments ago.

In hindsight, Theo knows he shouldn’t have pushed Liam like he just did. He’d seen all the warning signs, from the rapid movement of his chest as it expands before going back down, and he’d noticed the sour tinge in his scent that appeared in Liams chemosignals when he grew more furious. Maybe Theo deserved to get punched, but one thing was certain; he wasn’t just going to let that slide.

Theo lunges at Liam from his previous position on the ground as he tackles the younger boy. From there, they tussle in the short grass, rolling over one another and trying to get a few hits as they groan and pant, trying to dominate the other and avoid as many bruises and broken bones along the way. Liam shoves at Theo’s throat with his forearm, and with the momentum that gives him, Liam is able to flip them over so that he’s on top and straddling Theo at the hips. He manages to get a solid punch on Theo’s jaw, but his victory is short lived when Theo drags Liam’s head lower and headbutts him strongly enough to hear the crack of Liam’s nose.

They wrestle unceremoniously for a long time, and just like they always fight, there are no rules. Blood trickles down their faces down to their chins, and after fighting for this long, there really isn’t a distinction of whose blood is whose. Neither of them would be willing to admit this to the other, but they both really needed this. Their bickering is no substitute for their drawn fists and clawed hands. Liam wasn’t sure why, but there was something cathartic about his wrestling with Theo. With everyone else he’d previously fought, none of them rivalled him in strength and even if they could, they never fought back. Not Theo. Between them, is an unspoken deal— an understanding more like—where they see each others frustrations and are able to let it all out in a way that they can’t really do with anyone else. No questions after their relentless fighting, and best of all, they don’t ever address it. They just know it.

***

(Started writing another small bit of a fic. This is part of the first chapter of a new fic I’m currently working on so I hope you like it. Hopefully I finish it soon so I can post the first chapter.)

#thiam #theo raeken #liam dunbar #thiam fanfic #Thiam brain rot #fighting as a love language because they wouldn’t be Theo and Liam if they didn’t communicate through punches lol #writing fics is lowkey fun ngl #begging the adhd gods to let this hyperfixation last long enough for me to finish this fic ahhhhhhh

[kornflake82]

UPDATE: Finished fic has been posted!!! For anyone just now finding this post, click this fucking thing now to go to the finished story!!!!

hey everyone!! dont think i havent been periodically creeping on the blog and see how things were doing--i ended up leaving my old job and got a full time job to better support myself as i finish up my degree so sorry for the absence! here is a fic preview of one of the (many) fics in my drafts that i'll be working on and hope to post in its entirety this weekend!!!

as always, your support of me has been a great source of my happiness and stability and i thank you for your continued readership and interactions :3

Stake Out (Sniper x fem!Reader)

Sniper didn't understand why he couldn't just be alone. He's never needed another person to watch his back while on a stake-out, and he damn sure doesn't need one now. Admittedly, he's quite frustrated. With you? Not exactly. With the situation? Damn straight. The dead of summer heat left you scantily clad, much to Sniper's detriment. How could he bear to get anything done when you're sitting right here next to him like this, as if on display? You weren't exactly a happy camper, either. You knew Sniper didn't need any help, so you were already prepared to deal with a sour attitude-- but the unbearable heat and the fact that you have no choice but to spend a night together in his one-man van--left you equally as frustrated as the Aussie. As the afternoon dragged on, you let out an exasperated sigh and turned to your superior. "Is it okay if I take a nap?" You ask meekly, afraid of distracting him as he peered through his scope wordlessly. Sniper pauses a moment, then sets his rifle down. "A nap? Wasn't your whole reason for bein' 'ere to watch my back?" The look on his face sent a shiver down your spine. It was just an innocent question, really! You figured since it was an unspoken fact that the both of you knew you didn't really need to be here, it would be okay if you, well, slacked a bit. You cock your head to the side before testing the waters again. "...yes?" He stared at you with an expression you were unable to read. Was he mad? Was he just pulling your leg? Sniper pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, looking back up at you sternly. "Sure." It was hard to deny that his pent up frustration, among his general discontent with today's circumstances, left him irritable. From the bloody start he just wished he could be alone. None of this would have happened! Now how is he supposed to concentrate with the temptation of your vulnerable, unconscious body left splayed out before him mere feet away?! He shooed you along, allowing you to sleep in the camper while he did a little exercise in self control and maintained watch on enemy territory.

Upon entering, you thought nothing more of your surroundings and crashed on the bed with a soft thud. It was almost too easy to fall asleep, until you shot straight up and felt panic set in. Oh god. This is the only bed in this whole camper. The only viable surface to lay on, period. You were suddenly plagued with the image of a scowling Sniper, and the discomforting silence that hung around the two of you all day. How on earth are we supposed to sleep in this bed together?! The thought of cuddling with your superior after you were sure you just ruined his whole day made you tremble with anxiety. You thought it best to set your worries aside for now to get some rest. Perhaps if you slept now, that meant you could stay up on watch through the night while Mundy got his rest--avoiding the bed predicament entirely. As you pondered on what exactly you'd like to say and played out the interaction in your head, you lulled yourself to sleep with your own thoughts. The heat left you laid out on top of the covers with your sweat-soaked garments hugging your body like a constrictor. Right as you fell asleep, Sniper, with his brief solitude, was able to clear his head and abate his frustration for the time being. With no new action on the frontier, he decided to take a small break to check on you, making sure you at least were comfortable back there. Sniper knew it wasn't exactly a home, and felt a slight twinge of guilt having such a beautiful girl like you surrounded in his clutter.

The Aussie gently knocked before entering still, and was greeted by the sight of you, out cold in a starfish position. He stumbled back, instinctively snatching off his hat and using it to cover his eyes. Guess she made herself comfortable. He thought to himself, hiding his flushed expression behind the slouch hat. Sniper set the hat back on his head, clearing his throat to try and escape the awkward silence between himself and your unconscious form below him. Mundy knew he had no business back here anymore--all he was to do was assure you found yourself alright back there, then he would return to his post. Yet, he found he couldn't bring himself to move. His eyes were glued to your body, as if its beauty had taken hold of him. You could still feel an overbearing presence, even in your unconscious state, which caused you to stir. Sniper inched closer to you, against his better judgment. The pent up frustration from spending a whole afternoon next to you, wearing the least amount of clothing you could get away with...it drove him absolutely mad. Even more so, knowing there was nothing he could do about it--he couldn't make a move, he was a professional after all! ...And professionals have standards. Before finally returning to his post, he hastily covered your limp form with a used towel discarded nearby. Out of sight, out of mind.

thanks for reading this far! feel free to inbox me with any ideas or feedback and I'll be sure to incorporate them in the final draft and hope you guys are excited for more food!

#fic preview #tf2 sniper #team fortress 2 x reader #mick mundy #tf2 sniper x reader #tf2 #team fortress 2 #tf2 x reader

[aihoshiino]

Professor of Hoshino-Ailogy, might you have some tips on how to write the dear Miss genius idol herself? 🙇‍♀️ Been trying to dabble into writing stuff but her character's got me stuck. Been loving your OnK thoughts so I thought to try shooting an ask if that's ok!

Anon I know this is the joke but I am so genuinely moved at the idea of being considered a Professor Of Hoshino Aiology............ It really is all I was put on this earth to do. I immediately changed my discord name to this LMFAO

So! My recommendation would be to go back to OnK and specifically review episode 1 of the anime, as its take on Ai does a lot to flesh her out in comparison to the equivalent manga chapters. You should also check out Akane's little Pepe Silvia bit on episode 7, both so you can pick up on all that info and so you can point at the screen and go "Wow! She is Literally Me right now." (Anyone else? Just me? OK...)

And while everyone on earth has undoubtedly seen it already, take some time to chew on the Idol MV's imagery - the song as a whole and the MV specifically is basically just Ai's whole arc condensed and abstracted so it's good to look at how Ai is portrayed here and really think about why those choices were made.

After that, read Viewpoint B and 45510 side by side and do your best to put them in conversation with each other. What do these opposing views on Ai have to say about her and her motivations? That kind of thing. I also tentatively recommended reading the first chapter of Spica since it's some of our lengthiest unbroken Ai POV content, with the caveat that Spica doesn't always match up with how the main series talks about and portrays the same events so uh. Feel free to cherrypick what you take from it LOL

The Da Vinci interview and Artificial Girl are also both important in terms of getting a look at "Ai of B-Komachi" and seeing how she operates strictly in work mode. The Da Vinci interview also has some important notes about her history and relationships to certain other characters, so I think it's good to chew on in general!

From there, the most important manga chapters to review imo are 131, 136 and 137. 131 expands on Ai's history with her mom & has information about the abuse she put up with. As I've said before, her formative experiences with abuse and neglect and Ayumi's hands basically run through her entire soul like fault lines, so it's important to get a good understanding of that to start unfucking how it affects her behaviour. 

136 and 137 are also really important in understanding the emotional narrative of Ai's life, even if the literal events they portray obviously need to be taken with a grain of salt. We generally only see Ai of B-Komachi as a beguiling presence but 136 gives us a good look at just how fucking frustrating she would be to try and have a human relationship with and how this mask and Ai's general avoidance and discomfort with serious conversations contributes to her social isolation.

137 is, in my totally biased opinion, one of the best chapters in the entire series and so, so important for understanding Ai. It lays out in plain terms the most important foundational keystone of her entire character: that she was a normal, lonely girl struggling to connect and to find happiness and her desperation was taken advantage of so people could turn her into an object.

I think it's possible to get a good read on Ai just from the prologue arc, the rest of this material is important as reiteration and expansion on her core character. With all of it together, you should start picking up on patterns in her behaviour and drawing connections between her actions and the things that inform them.

If you're still having trouble figuring her out after that, here are some points I think are really important to keep in mind that often go overlooked when it comes to Ai:

Ai is neurodivergent and an abuse survivor

Ai is stated at least twice in the text of Oshi no Ko to have a developmental disorder and I think there's enough evidence in the text to say that she's intended to be read as autistic specifically.

On top of that, Ai's formative years were spent on a home environment where she could not rely on her primary guardians to consistently care for her and she was alternately neglected and violently physically abused, to the point of not feeling safe in her own house at night.

This is important to keep in mind because while Ai is pretty good at masking, her neurodivergence and her history with abuse means that she processes information - particularly social information - in a very different way to a neurotypical person.

Ai does not always lie - and her lies are different than you think

I've said this a million times before and I'll probably say it another million but a lot of the really out of pocket Ai takes you see in OnK fandom generally come from people who go to the extreme of dismissing everything that comes out of Ai's mouth as a lie and thus just completely missing out on a majority of her characterization.

Ai's "lie" is her performance - it's the illusion that "Ai of B-Komachi" is her true self with absolutely nothing else going on in her personal life. It's not a case of making shit up, but leaving things out - obfuscation and omission are the name of the game.

Picking up on when she's being honest Vs telling a lie is just something you end up getting a feel for as you get an understanding of her but generally, if Ai directly and plainly states something and it is not in conflict with things we know to be fact, then it's probably true enough.

This isn't a strict binary obviously and there are plenty of times where Ai says something that is obviously untrue but isn't her consciously lying - rather, like any human being, she has biases that affect her judgement, with her own stemming from her history of abuse and rejection and her poor self image.

The fact that Ai lies is less important than WHY she lies

This is sort of a reiteration of what I said above but where a lot of people get stuck on Ai's external behavior (that she lies) and fail to take dig into underlying motivations that actually cause her to behave that way. I know "this character has motivations" is probably like an insultingly baby mode reminder but I really do see so many people just completely abjectly failing to grasp this that I felt it needed saying lol

Deception is not Ai's end goal. Ai lies not because she wants to trick people but because she's been taught over and over her whole life that it's the only way she can be treated with basic fucking decency, and she has internalized this persistent cruelty as being her own fault. She performs Ai of B-Komachi because there is clearly something wrong with Hoshino Ai.

Even with that in mind, this isn't something Ai wants. As she says herself says in 45510, she wants people to know and accept her as she really is, flaws and impurity and all, and as she demonstrates in both Viewpoint B and chapter 1, she's incredibly quick to start opening up to people who seem to have the potential to accept her, or even just who treat her kindly. She is simply that lonely and that desperate to connect.

I hope this is all helpful, anon! I didn't necessarily want to just point by point how I write Ai just because I think that takes the fun out of things, but this is more or less the process I went through in forming my interpretation of her, and the rest is all things I've just intuited or drawn my own conclusions about from writing her - "oh, if Behaviour X, then Underlying Cause Y", that kind of thing. I hope this gives you a solid base to work on for writing her, tho - and please let me know when you're done so I can read it 👀

#oshi no ko #oshi no posting #onk asks #ai hoshino

[photo1030]

Leather and Lace - Chapter 8:  All Hot and Bothered

Summary:  You wake up to these rather intimate dreams, each more erotic than the last one, with seemingly no outlet

Warnings:  NSFW, 18+ readers, please; smut and swearing

**This wonderful image does not belong to me. This comes from @mrskrazy 

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

Standing looking out over the meadows, the afternoon breeze caresses your face as it gently blows across the fields. It carries with it the scent of wildflowers and the tall grass. You wrap your arms around yourself and hum in satisfaction, happy for the peace that your surroundings offer you in this moment of time.

 Suddenly you feel a presence behind you. No need to turn around, you are not alarmed in any way. He is right up behind you now, as you can feel the heat radiating off of him and onto your back. He doesn't even have to touch you and you feel comforted by him simply being there. 

Fingers deftly begin to lift the hair from your neck, laying your locks to the side, granting him access to the warm skin underneath. A fingertip traces the graceful curvature of your neck as if exploring the very sight of it. You shudder slightly from it, your skin now dancing with goosebumps, as you slowly close your eyes and focus on the sensation of his touch. His other hand lands on your hip, set upon it like it has always belonged there. 

Then, you feel them: his lips as they grace the skin behind your ear ever so softly. You let out just the faintest moan of pleasure, as his mouth hovers over the sensitive area. Sensing your approval, he works his lips down from your ear to where your neck and shoulder meet, leaving of a trail of kisses along the way, the tip of his tongue darting out from between his lips ever so slightly as he does. The hand that rests on your hip finally moves, reaching across your abdomen to encircle your waist, drawing you back into him even more as your backside presses up against his hips tightly. You drop your arms slightly to rest over-top of his as his hand gently kneads the material of your blouse in a grasping motion. 

The scent of leather mixing with cigarettes fills your nose now with him being this close to you. Although certainly not unpleasant, but on the contrary, its an exhilarating fragrance, especially when it mixes with the scents of the meadows around you. And then...

Your eyes slowly open, revealing the ceiling of your tent. You blink away the sleep still in your eyes, trying to comprehend where you are. The faint sounds of the Van Der Linde camp rustle outside of your tent, sounds of not-so-distant voices and other banging and commotion filling the still air. 

Ugh...it was a dream. Of course. 

You lay your arm over your face, covering your eyes in frustration. Such a wonderful dream it was too, even if you don't know who the man was. But its been that way for the last few days. You've been having these dreams over and over again for the last few nights, but never seeing the man in them. Its simply a nameless, faceless contact, generated from your growing loneliness.

Letting out a long, slow sigh, you sit up on your bedroll on the ground. Tucking your leg under you a bit for stability, you stretch your arms out over your head, your joints making a bit of a popping sound as your muscles move. You're certainly not old, but you are not as young as you used to be. The hard ground tends to wreck havoc on your body sometimes. 

"Note to self:  my next investment is a cot," you mumble to yourself as you absentmindedly rub your muscles. But your discomfort is quickly replaced as your mind recalls your dream, silently wishing it was someone else massaging your limbs. 

You close your eyes again, savoring the feeling of contentment that washes over you every time you experience these dreams. You sigh again in disappointment before you can get lost in your own fantasies again. 

"No time for such nonsense, (Y/N)," you scold yourself. "Time to get your ass up and moving."

After getting yourself cleaned up and dressed, you make your way over to the common tables. You slowly shuffle towards the coffee pot that is percolating over the fire, your hands busying themselves with the last hap-hazard touches of a loose braid to contain your hair. 

Grabbing yourself a cup of much-needed coffee, you gingerly sit with the cup cradled in your hands, staring down into the dark liquid, watching the steam rise and dance in the air. Unbeknownst to you, it takes Ms. Grimshaw several attempts to get your attention, as your mind is somewhere else completely this morning. 

"(Y/N)!" she calls your name sharply. "Girl, have you gone deaf all of a sudden?!"

Your head snaps up to attention to your right side when you finally hear her, looking up into her stern face as she stands hovering over you. 

"Oh! Oh, I'm sorry, Ms. Grimshaw. No...no, I'm not deaf," you stammer. "I'm just-"

 "Well I don't care what you are! Get yourself moving and over to those laundry tubs," she points off into the distance with an annoyance that never seems to ebb. "There's plenty of work to do today and no time to be wasting, staring off into oblivion." You concede immediately, nodding to the woman's incessant badgering, knowing its useless to even try to argue or explain yourself.  

You stand up from the table, refill your cup before heading off, and carry your precious coffee over to the washing area where the other girls are already working. The sight of your friends sitting there, laughing and talking, brings a smile to your face as you approach the group. 

"Ladies", you greet them. 

"Hey, (Y/N)!" replies Karen, who is doing more sitting than washing at the moment. "Was wonderin' when you'd be gracing us with your presence today," she teases you. 

"Sorry about that. I over-slept a bit again this morning," you answer her sheepishly, drawing your hand over your face. You set your cup down next to you as you take residence upon one of the low stools, grabbing a handful of the laundry, and quietly begin working, offering no further discussion.

"What the hell is with you, lately, (Y/N)? You’ve been acting all weird," asks Abigail, eyeing you up as she brushes a lock of her own hair out of her eyes.

Sighing, you look at Abigail with an almost pitiful expression on your face, pausing your work as you try to explain. "I’ve been feeling a little…"anxious" lately…if you know what I mean. I’ve been having these dreams…"

"Oh, is that all?" she asks dismissively, waiving off the topic.

"Oooooo, dreams you don't say? Anyone in particular in these dreams?", smiles Mary Beth, leaning in towards you, pushing a little more as she giggles. Mary-Beth is the resident romance specialist and is always up for a discussion on the subject. And of late, she has been hinting at pairing you and Arthur together, so she is just chomping at the bit to dig a bit further into your confession.

Admittedly, you and Arthur are good friends, but that's all. That's all it is, all it will ever be.

"No," you say sheepishly, slightly embarrassed to be talking about it, your face turning red at the inquisition. "I don't know who it is, to be honest. I…feel him more than I see him….if you catch my meaning," you say as you run your hands over the top of your thighs nervously, avoiding eye contact with any of the girls. "Ugh, its so frustrating!" you finally break. You roll your eyes in annoyance, before planting your chin firmly in your hand in a huff as you lean out on your elbows which sit in your lap.

"Oh hell, honey, that’s easy enough to take care of, you know," Karen jokes, tossing an article of clothing at you, hitting you in the face playfully.

Shaking your head, you mull over her suggestion. "It’s been so long since I’ve lain with a man." You pause as the reality of your situation floods your senses all of a sudden. "You girls don’t understand, I need to feel the weight of a man on top of me!” you quietly whine, trying not to be too loud for nosy ears to overhear.

"You know, there’s a few men here in camp who, I’m sure, would be more than happy to help you out with your little problem," says Karen, raising an eyebrow at you.

"One in particular I’m sure," whispers Tilly to Mary Beth with an impish grin.

With that conversation eventually put to rest, you get yourself to work, trying to distract yourself with the labor of scrubbing laundry. Sitting with your hands in the hot water of the wash tub, your eyes eventually lift up to look around the camp. 

Everyone else has occupied themselves with something, as there is always something to do around here. Your attention eventually turns to the sounds of slight grunting and the cracking of wood. 

Off in the corner of camp, your eyes land on Arthur, who is cutting up more firewood. Its early in the day, but already warm, so he has the top few buttons of his shirt open, revealing his robust collarbone and beginning trail of chest hair, already glistening with sweat. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled-up to his elbow, highlighting his burly forearms.

You do not notice that you've slowed down your work to a snail-pace, now that you've found this "distraction". You try to discreetly watch Arthur as he swings the ax up over his head, bringing it down onto the chunks of wood with incredible speed and force. 

Each time that he does, you can't help but notice how the muscles in his arms flex, his strong legs firmly planted into the ground with each motion. As each piece of wood splits and falls over, he reaches down with a gloved hand, roughly grabbing the piece and tossing it aside into the pile as if it were feather-light. 

He doesn't notice you watching him, thankfully, as you quickly realize that you are staring. Catching yourself, you blink yourself out of your stupor, shaking your head slightly, and try to refocus on the soapy water and soggy garments in front of you. 

"You OK over there, (Y/N)?" Abigail asks with a knowing smirk on her face as she catches you. 

"Just fine. Don't worry about it," you shrug-off her inquiry quickly. 

"Uh,huh. Sure." she laughs. 

Over from where he's working, Arthur pauses a moment to wipe his face of the sweat that's starting to drip down his forehead. His gaze involuntarily turns towards the wagon area where you are working. For whatever reason, he always knows where you are at all times. He observes you and the girls talking and laughing about something. He can't hear what it is that you are carrying on about, but it makes his heart happy to see you smiling, the sound of your laughter crossing your lips always bringing him just a touch of serenity to his own pessimistic existence.

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

The flame of the lantern glows warmly as it reflects off of the woodwork of the hotel room. Your hands are set upon the wall, palms flat with your arms extended out, elbows slightly bent, as you lightly brace yourself. Your head bows slightly as you feel someone behind you. 

Large hands, calloused and rough, come up along side you, landing over-top of yours on the wall. His powerful arms cage you in as you feel his chest against your back again. He leans forward slightly as he buries his nose into your hair, inhaling your beautiful scent. 

His hot breath is blowing onto your scalp as he slowly exhales with a shuttered breath, causing a ripple of excitement to cascade over your body. His touch leaves you for a brief moment as he pulls at the bottom of your shirt, wading the hem of it up into his capable hands and carefully lifts it up over your head before tossing it to the floor to land next to your skirt which was discarded long ago. 

He hums in contentment as he watches how the movement causes your hair to become disheveled, almost wildly landing around your shoulders. He places his left hand back on the wall over-top of yours, as if holding you in place, as his other hand reaches around to your stomach. His hand splays open, fingers spread, as his hand almost covers your entire middle. 

He presses his chest right up against your back again and you can feel the chest-hair with your heightened senses, his own shirt having been removed already. The rugged hand on the wall moves now to gently wrap around your neck, cupping your chin and pulling you back further to him, while the other hand snakes from your abdomen slowly downward towards your heat. You let out a delightful moan as you tip your head back into him, rolling it to the side to expose your neck to his mouth, which he firmly plants there, kissing and sucking with just the right amount of force. 

Your breath catches as fingers begin to dance along the delicate folds of your heat. He curls them, one after the other, raking across the sensitive skin there, causing your legs to go weak. And as a strong digit pushes into you with such a euphoric pressure... you jolt awake.

You sit up abruptly on your bedroll with a sharp gasp of surprise as you wake up from apparently yet another dream. With your chest heaving slightly, you thrust the palm of your hand into your eye-socket, trying to form a coherent thought. "Sweet Jesus, come on!" you huff out loud in frustration.  

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

Sitting at the fire later in afternoon, you're thinking over the latest dream you've had, as you can’t get it out of your head. The dreams are getting more and more intense every time, yet you still cannot tell if its someone specific in them or not. 

You nervously chew on your thumbnail as you sit in deep thought. It could just be a nameless face, no one in particular, conjured up from your "lack of attention" lately. Or, it could be anyone you know at this point. 

And then a horrible thought enters your mind:  What if it’s Micah? Oh God, please not Micah. Your face involuntarily twists up in disgust. Maybe that's why you can't see his face in the dream, you rationalize. Maybe you're blocking it out? 

Groaning, you roll your eyes back into your head, dropping it backwards in annoyance. You'd rather it be Hosea at this point, than Micah. This idea makes you snort out a laugh before you cover your mouth at the thought of that one. "Well, he is handsome for his age," thinking to yourself, shaking your head.

“Uh, hello?” You hear a voice out of nowhere, pulling you out of your stupor and realize that it’s Arthur. You have been so distracted with your thoughts that you didn't even notice the man walking over and standing next to you.

“Huh?”

"What’s the matter with you?" asks Arthur suspiciously, narrowing his eyes at you. "Been talking to you and you ain’t even flinched." He stands with his hands on his hips, looking at you expectantly.

"Oh…sorry. Got a lot on my mind. Just thinking, I guess," you answer him softly, still distracted.

"Hmm" he answers, rolling his eyes. "Well don't wear yourself out too much doin' that," he snickers, pleased with his own joke.

"Shut it," you reply with a grin at Arthur's teasing. 

He sits down at the fire, same as you, and pulls his gun out of its holster and starts to clean it. With a sigh, you tear your gaze from the fire in front of you and casually look over to watch him work. Arthur is always so meticulous with his guns, always making sure they are cleaned and cared for. You suppose its an occupational habit. 

You look at Arthur’s hands as they work over the metal, rubbing the bit of cloth he has over the piece. And suddenly, you freeze, eyes going wide. You know those hands. 

"Oh Hell," you whisper to yourself, as it immediately becomes clear who you've been dreaming of this whole time. Not sure what to do, and suddenly very nervous, you bolt up off of the log that you are sitting on, startling Arthur half to death. 

"What the hell?!" he asks out loud. "What's the matter with you? You tryin' to give me a heart attack?!" His eyebrows furrow both in concern and annoyance.

"I...uh...excuse me," you manage to sputter out, hands fumbling nervously, as you quickly walk away, palm coming to your forehead, and head to your tent. Arthur's gaze follows you, confused and speechless, wondering if he's offended you to make you leave so abruptly.

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

Laying on your back, your legs fall open to the man laying on top of you. His arms are hooked under your shoulders as you wrap your own arms around his back, holding onto him tightly. 

You feel shock waves of intense pleasure as he repeatedly pushes his cock into you. He is not harsh with you, but the force of which he is ramming into you causes his shoulder to repeatedly knock into your jaw. 

Delicate fingers dig into the sweat-covered muscles of his back, grasping desperately to him. Your moans and broken cries are music to his ears, as his own grunts of pleasure fill the air. He places kisses and love bites along your neck and collarbone, as one of your hands leaves his back and finds residence in his hair, curling and pulling slightly, causing him to pant excitedly as you cradle his head to you even tighter. 

The blissful sensation of him filling you so completely with each thrust pushes your mind to the brink, losing all sensibility in the moment. He finally lifts his head from where it was nestled under your ear to meet your gaze...and you see the most beautiful blue eyes...Arthur's eyes, staring back at you.

Jarring awake suddenly, and sitting half-way up, you pause for a few moments, catching your breath as you slap your hand to her forehead before falling ungracefully back down onto your bedroll, arms sprawling out to your sides.

"Nope…uh uh…can’t happen," you reprimand yourself. You take a deep breath and exhale slowly in an effort to calm down. "Son of a...." your hand hovering over your eyes again in irritation.

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

The next few days are so awkward for you. Ever since you realized Arthur is the one in your dreams, you can't even look at him without turning red and embarrassed, so you've been trying to steer clear of him ever since. 

But this is proving to be a hard task, as for some reason, he keeps seeking you out. But what you do not realize, is that Arthur is concerned about your behavior. The two of you are friends, always talking, but for whatever reason, you seem to be avoiding him and he is not sure what he's done to offend you. 

Because truth be told, you are the last person that Arthur wants avoiding him. And it seems everywhere you turn, there he is. It seems that the universe is mercilessly taunting you, too. Normally, nothing would make you happier than seeing Arthur. But in light of recent circumstances, it is proving to be a difficult task to keep your urges under control.

In an effort to somewhat distance yourself from company this morning, you sit under one of the trees on the edge of camp, a favorite place for you to go when you want to sit quietly and read or whatnot. 

Your current chore of late is stitching. You volunteered for this one, hoping to keep your hands busy and your mind focused. You have a few articles of clothing in your lap that need tending to as you currently push a needle and thread through a hole in one of the shirts. You pick up the garment, shaking it out, and look it over for a moment. And you realize that its one of Arthur's. Its the black one, the one that he was wearing the other day when he came back from the latest bounty job. 

Staring at it, you smile to yourself as you remember watching him ride in that day, watching as he swung his leg over Buck's saddle and lowered himself down to the ground. He was quite pleased with himself, as the job went off without any incidents for once, and he was happy to report a full bounty paid and a large one at that. 

Your eyes had followed him as he walked through the camp with a swagger in his step that made him that much more handsome. For he is quite handsome, as far as you are concerned. You know that he doesn't think so, has even told you so himself. 

Dropping the shirt back down to your lap, you sigh. Looking around the camp, you find Arthur working, as usual. This time, he's helping Mr. Pearson unload the wagon after this morning's supply run. He has a large wooden crate sitting up on his shoulder as he carries it over to the tables. 

He only needs one arm to effortlessly hold the crate, leaving his other arm to swing slightly at his side. This posture accents his broad chest and massive shoulders that are pushing slightly against the blue fabric of his favorite shirt, the one that he wears all of the time...and makes his eyes simply pop with amazing color... 

"Oh come on, seriously?" you whine to yourself, hanging your head down in frustration and annoyance at yourself for the little self control that you have.

Later that afternoon, after you have all of your work done for the day, and Arthur is safely out of your sight, you decide to go for a walk to clear your head. Normally, Arthur doesn't like for you to wander off on your own, but you tell yourself that you'll keep close to home and follow the river. Maybe you'll even dip your feet into the water. 

"Hopefully the cold water will settle my ass down a bit," you reprimand yourself with an exasperated sigh. 

You've been walking for a bit, keeping quiet just in case, and listen to the sounds of nature around you. Birds are chirping off in the distance and the white-noise sound of secadas whiring lets your mind wander. 

Eventually, you pickup on the sound of water splashing slightly. Your heart catches in your throat for a moment, as you hope to God that the one time you do not heed Arthur's instructions does not lead you into trouble. As your footsteps become slower, you see the source of the noise. 

Speak of the devil, this is where Arthur has wandered off to. He's standing naked in the river, his back to you from where you are walking.

You freeze mid-stride when your eyes land on him, but quickly manage to get your head together to hurriedly throw yourself behind one of the tree trunks so that he doesn't see you. You do not move for fear of being caught, but it doesn't seem like he's heard you, as he makes no effort to move or cover himself. Your heart is pounding in your ears and you are in such shock that you can't even blink. And you also can't tear your eyes away from the sight of him either, as you cautiously peer around the side of the tree at him.

Arthur is standing in the river, wading in so that the water is up to about his mid-thigh. He has a rag in hand, washing himself up, dragging the cloth over his tanned skin. You cannot see the front of him, 'thank God' you tell yourself, but get a good view of his backside. 

You know he's well-built and strapping, but seeing him in his natural state only confirms it. His legs, from what you can see of them, are thick and muscled. Your eyes rake over his back, wide and strong, littered with hair, like his chest. 

You can see scars along the skin, even from this distance. You've had to stitch him up a few times since you've been with the gang, but have never really taken inventory of his features before, always fixated on the task at hand in the past. But now...

Your gaze follows the trail of his spine, down over his buttocks, perfect and round, and down his strong legs. Your breathing quickens as you bring your hand up over your mouth to keep yourself quiet.

But then, you go and do something stupid. You inadvertently step on a twig, causing the ever so slightest sound to carry through the air. You watch in horror as Arthur's head snaps to attention, now realizing that he may not be alone out here. 

"Shit!" you damn yourself internally and quickly duck back behind the tree again, pressing your back up against it and holding your breath, eyes squeezed shut tight. You hear the sloshing of water as Arthur quickly makes his way to the river bank. 

"Hey! Who's out there?!" he demands in a threatening tone. 

You panic. You bite down on your bottom lip, eyes open now but staring ahead of you, trying to decide what to do. Do you try to hide? Do you try to run away? Do you come right out? 

"I said, who's out there?!" Arthur asks again, but this time, you hear the hammer of his gun click back. You close your eyes again, realizing that you have to do something. And taking a deep breath, you decide to play innocent.

"Arthur, is that you?" you call from behind the tree. "Where are you?" feigning ignorance.

Instantly, Arthur releases the gun, recognizing your voice. "(Y/N)?" he calls out, confused. He'd already thrown his pants on in a hurry as soon as he landed on the bank again, but now realizing that it is you coming towards him, he hastily tries to put his shirt on. 

You step out from around the tree, playing off that you've just come down the path and are just now stumbling upon him. "Arthur! Jesus, you startled me! What are you doing out here?" you ask, your hand placed over your chest as if he had just given you the fright of your life.

"What am I doing here?! What are you doing out here?!" he challenges you, flustered and waiving his hands about. He is so self-conscious of being half-naked and disheveled in front of you right now, that he doesn't even seem to stop to think that you may have been there for awhile.

"I decided to go for a walk, is all," you say quietly, your eyes diverted, looking around elsewhere other than at his face at the moment. "I thought I heard a noise from this direction so I froze. I wasn't sure who was out here or what I was walking into." Your explanation seemed simple and forthright enough that Arthur doesn't dwell on it too much. He drags his hand over his face and rolls his eyes.

"You could've gotten a bullet between the eyes, you know" he lectures you.

"You'd shoot me for taking a walk?" you challenge back, a smirk on your face now.

"Ha, ha very funny. Don't get cute with me! I was out here gettin' cleaned up. Don't sneak up on a man like that!" Arthur's face is stern and harsh, but you know there is no real malice there towards you.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know that I was." you reply, smiling at him in an effort to calm him down a bit.

After a few more moments of awkward silence, "Well, I'd better head back to camp and let you finish what you were doing, then," you offer.

 "Yeah, I think that would be best," he says sheepishly as his nerves settle a bit now, but still rather embarrassed. He's still standing with bare feet, and shifts his weight awkwardly from one hip to the other, not really sure what else to say or do. And with that, you hastily turn on your heels and high-tail it back to camp with the intent of going straight to your tent.

Fortunately, no one stops you or tries to talk to you as you make your way through the camp, but all the same, you keep your head down and avoid eye contact as much as possible. 

Reaching your private little tent, you quickly enter and pull down the sides to enclose you in. The sun is setting now, and the rest of the crew has settled in by the fires on the other side of the camp for the night, so odds are, you'll be left alone for the evening. 

Its a good thing, too, as you are mortified about what just happened with Arthur. You can only pray that Arthur truly believes that you did not see him in the water. He seemed to be just as flustered as you, so with any luck, he will pretend that the whole thing never happened.

Sitting in your tent by yourself, you try anything to get your mind off of Arthur. A little time soon goes by and its dark now. You sip on a glass of brandy that you have in your stash and try to read a bit, looking for any sort of distraction. The lantern light is casting an amber glow about the canvas-enclosed space with the encroaching darkness. You snap the book in your hands closed and lean over to gently toss it upon the wooden box in the corner where you store some of your things. 

Standing, you stretch your arms and legs and begin to change into your nightgown to get ready to sleep. The cool air graces the skin of your legs as you unlace and drop your skirt to pool at your feet. Next, you slowly unbutton your shirt and pull the cotton off of your shoulders, leaving you in just a corset, chemise and bloomers. 

Goosebumps prickle up over you chest at the sudden temperature change. You tiredly pull off the rest of the undergarments before tugging your nightgown over your head, smoothing it down over your abdomen. Your hands linger over your stomach for a moment as your thoughts drift off. 

Images begin to dance through your head again, replaying your previous dreams and visions, culminating with flashes of Arthur in the river from a few hours earlier. A slight groan leaves your lips as you lower yourself onto your bedroll, settling in to get comfortable for the night.

Laying on your back, your eyes stare up at the top of the tent, your breath slowing as your chest rises and falls serenely. And once again, the images of Arthur flood your mind's eye. 

Your pulse starts to quicken as you think of his muscled body, wet and glistening in the water. Your hand slowly inches down over your nightgown and gently rests over-top of your heat. You can feel the delicate nub buried within start to throb as you imagine Arthur's strong arms and broad back, imagining what it would be like to run your hands over them, dragging your fingertips through the hair that decorates them. 

Remembering one of the dreams from the other night, you mimic the movements of his hands as your own fingers roll over the lips of your heat, rubbing with increasing speed. Your back arches slightly as you part your knees a bit more. 

You picture Arthur's hands stroking along your body, his lips planting a trail of wet kisses from your neckline down your collarbone and over one of your breasts. Your other hand comes to rest on one of the soft mounds of flesh, your fingertips rolling the hard tip of your nipple. Your head rolls back slightly as you part the folds of your heat and you slide a digit of your own inside. You bite your lip, stifling an exhilarated gasp as you begin to pump your own fingers in and out of yourself, imagining that it is Arthur's hand there instead.

Your pace quickens as you buck your hips upward, chasing the exhilarating feeling. It has indeed been too long for you, as it almost seems like you forgot what this feels like. Or maybe the inspiration behind it is just too tantalizing. Either way, you can feel the velvety muscles within start to spasm around your fingers as your climax is building within your belly. 

Another vision of Arthur cutting that firewood, his shirt partially unbuttoned, his chest contorting with the force of bringing the ax down, brings you almost to the edge. You thrust your fingers into yourself deeper, faster, until the palm of your hand rubs against that nub. 

Almost there now. 

And then, its just the simplest thing that you need to finish. You imagine his hands. His large, strong hands wearing those black leather, fingerless gloves of his...and that does it. 

Your climax hits full force in that moment, causing you to let out a broken whine, which you quickly cover your mouth with your free hand to quiet. You hold your pose for a few moments, back arched and head still tilted back, milking the heavenly sensation before finally letting your body relax and go limp, melting into the bedroll beneath you.

"There, now...that should do it," you whisper to yourself with a gratified smile, still panting a bit.

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

The next morning, you are more content than you've been in weeks. You sit yourself at one of the fires which is still smoldering from yesterday. You poke at the embers with a stick, trying to resurrect the flames again to ward off the morning chill. 

You've already gotten up early before anyone else has risen and made coffee for everyone, grabbing yourself the first cup. You sit calmly in your chair, slowly sipping the hot coffee in your hands and simply look about the camp with a serene and tranquil look upon your face. If someone were to take notice, one could say that you have a glow about you this morning. You smirk to yourself, as you think upon just why it is that you are so relaxed this morning.

Before long, Karen and Abigail have awoken and made their way to sit next to you. Karen has a mischievous smile on her face, an excited presence about her this morning. 

"Listen!" she says in a hushed tone. "I have an idea. I've been thinking and I thought maybe we’d go into town today and see if we can find you 'a friend'." Her eyes widen a bit to exaggerate her meaning for you.

"No need. I handled it myself," you reply definitively.

"Oh?"

You look over at Karen and raise your eyebrow at her, hoping she gets your meaning.

"Oh," she says simply after a moment, understanding you. "Well, where’s the fun in that?" asks Karen, almost disappointed that you have declined her idea.

"Well, I needed tending to and I know the area better than anyone else," you chuckle, bringing your coffee cup up to your lips to sip again.  

"So…you “handled” it yourself, then?" smirks Abigail, trying to stifle a giggle as she swats playfully at your arm.

"You know," you roll your eyes with a bit of a snort, "it kills me sometimes that you two are my best friends."

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x fem reader #arthur morgan x f! reader #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan x reader smut

[literary-illuminati]

Book Review 17 – A Half-Built Garden by Ruthanna Emrys

Okay, I have officially finally read a solarpunk thing I unreservedly enjoyed! Which means my opinion about all the other examples of the genre is no longer entirely just me being a hater.

...I joke (mostly), but I was sold this as basically ‘Psalm for the Wild Built but with actual conflict and an attempt to seriously think through its ideas”, and it absolutely lived up to that! Plus it’s a fun read with a few actually meaty characters, too. I mean, I do have complaints. Which I will go on about below. At length. But in the loving way, not the ‘actively resent having read this’ way. As proof of this, I offer the fact that this thing is well over two three four thousand words long, and for readability I’m breaking it into subheadings.

Summary

Anyway, the basics are that it’s the late 21st century, and the world’s been through a bit of a ringer in terms of climate change-induced disaster. At some point in the previous generation, a lot of political-economic power was seized by the Dandelion Networks, cyber-eco-anarchist collectives organized around the watersheds of major river networks, and dedicated to trying to unfuck the planet some. The actual plot revolves around First Contact, as an alien ship lands in the Chesapeake, offering evacuation and relocation to what they fully expect to be the desperate and grateful inhabitants of a dying planet. This leads to some awkwardness, given the Networks civilizational commitment to the mission of restoring the earth and lack of interest in eventually pulling it apart to make a dyson sphere, and the paternalistic (well, maternalistic) condescension of a decent chunk of the aliens about whether humans are competent to make that choice. Made even more tense because representatives of the vestigial United States and the much-reduced-but-still-important former globe-spanning megacorporations are much more enthusiastic about what the aliens have to offer.

So yeah, book full of cultural confusion, high stakes diplomacy, intrigue and ideology. I adored it.

General Discussion

The aliens were fun, in that they were absolutely and entirely nonhumanoid – two species, and neither of them mammalian or bipedal, and one of them not even having anything we’d really recognize as a face. It made the descriptions of conversations and physical interactions pretty funny to visualize at points, honestly; though it did also take me something like a hundred pages to get a real proper image of what both of the species in question actually looked like.

It was kind of interesting how so much effort was spent on making the alien’s appearance so, well, alien, but everything else worked on maximally convenient space opera rules? They can breathe the same air as humans with only minimal discomfort (and vice versa), and even enjoy each other’s food. Plus the story starts with the aliens having already created translation software that does its job perfectly with zero meaningful confusion or plot-relavent loss of meaning. Which all makes sense in terms of making the plot works, but still – no matter how important sharing food is as a thematic expression of shared intimacy and cultural exchange, still wounds my suspension of disbelief in this First Contact story when the 2 meter furry tree-spider can even digest human cuisine, let alone enjoy it.

The alien’s culture was both fascinating and kind of frustrating – I did love how the whole common sense of ‘of course a species will advance enough to leave their homeworld behind, or else die on it’ was so bone deep that most of them kind of floundered trying to actually try and convince someone who didn’t already agree with them. And likewise our protagonist and her compatriots were basically totally unable to make a convincing argument that didn’t take the value of Earth and a natural ecosystem as a given. That felt very true to life.

But frustrating because, like – the aliens have a sort of matriarchal social organization where nursing mothers (especially/specifically of one of the two species?) are taken as the natural authority figures in the extended cross-species households that seem to be the atomic units of economic production and political participation. But there’s a massive amount of gestured at nuances and references to wider institutions that are just never followed up on, which I’d normally consider just generally good worldbuilding except for that the fact that writing the Xenology 101 handbook should literally be the main character’s job here. Third act of the book, and she’s still never gotten around to asking for the precise mechanics of how authority is divided among the crew of the interstellar spaceship/first contact team/extended family she’s been dealing with!

The Dandelion Networks have to be by far the most thought out ‘solarpunk’ society I’ve ever really seen in a story, though that’s admittedly an incredibly low bar. I’ve still got some qualms and quibbles and bits that annoyed me about the portrayal, but insofar as it’s kind of unfair to expect every sci fi book to come free with an extra utopian manifesto, they did pass the sniff test as seeming, well, real? If not exactly as a socio-political/economic structure, then at least as a culture and civilization with its own traditions and minor hangups and celebrations and day-to-day routines. I also very much do appreciate the fact that even if they’re clearly portrayed as much, much better than the alternatives, they’re not an outright utopia.

The fact that, legally speaking, the United States government never gave up any territory or jurisdiction, it just chose of its own accord to merge and massively expand several national parks and subcontract their administration to these revolutionary anarchist networks with absolutely zero coercion involved nosiree, was also great. Or made me laugh, anyway.

The vestigial USA – here also our only representative of the entire class of still-extant nation states – gets comparatively little attention compared to the other players involved. On the one hand that’s kind of a shame because it’s legitimately unclear the degree to its the government and not the watershed networks putting on delusions on grandeur (which, to be clear, I kind of loved). And I did adore the fact that NASA...well, it didn’t actually do a coup, but just selectively read the legislation defining its responsibilities to just jump in and start handling everything about First Contact negotiations without really bothering to wait for permission first. But on the other hand they do very much seem the most normal – which is to say archaic, from the rest of the setting’s perspective, with Congress and the federal bureaucracy being characterized as ineffectual deadlocked quagmires where ideas go to die. Also the only people for whom monogamous long-term relationships or ‘most people being cis’ seems to be at all the norm, which I think makes them the closest thing the book has to on-screen social conservatives.

The Corps – the remnants of the formerly globe-spanning and world-burning megacorporations, now in the main restricted to the artificial island city-states they fled to when the world really started going to shit and the revolutions started – are the actual main ideological foils to the Dandelion Networks presented through by the book. And – look, I’ll be honest, the culture and politics feels like a natural (if incredibly optimistic) outgrowth of certain trends in modern American culture. The Corpos feel like an alien civilization invented whole cloth for a space opera because it seemed interesting and fun. Which, to be clear, they absolutely are – but, like, this book theoretically takes place sixty years in the future. ‘Specifically the corporate oligarchs and their most loyal guards, technicians and toadies have in one post-revolutionary-exile generation developed a stable entirely presentation based normatively genderfluid 7-gender system” seems like, how to put this, a bit of a stretch?

Still, they’re definitely fun, and I do really appreciate that Emrys gave them a real ideology and mythology instead of just making them self-consciously evil (a carefully nurtured bitterness that the Watershed Networks and their carbon budgets and sustainability mandates essentially stole the future from them, combined with a real belief in meritocracy and just deserts). Though, like, even moreso than the USA, I’m legitimately not sure the degree to which Judy and the other Watersheders common sense about them being slowly decaying relics losing people with every year is supposed to be taken as correct? Because, like, city-states in the middle of the ocean capable of sustaining themselves in the style we’ve seen implies either vast hinterlands or sufficient productivity to import all the raw materials they need from abroad in exchange for finished goods or access to truly immense amounts of energy or some combination of all three, and none of those really scream ‘archaic relic’. All to say that I might have come out viewing the Watershed Networks as more full of triumphalism and groupthink than was intended – though honestly if so, I like them better that way. It’s an entirely natural flaw for their system to create, honestly. Look at reddit.

Speaking of flaws the protagonist’s society had – I found it immensely charming how Judy was just, so utterly and completely terrible at being a spy? On a cinemasins level you do have to wonder how the corps weren’t already ruling the world again if the Network’s best and brightest are all this easy to entrap and blackmail, but on a thematic level it does work as emphasizing how the networks, well, work through the wisdom of crowds and constructive debate, and trying to fly off on your own in little self-appointed conspiracies rarely ends well for anyone involved.

The Eponymous Garden

The question of what humanity is for – whether we have a destiny to reach for the stars, or if there’s something vital about the planet earth (about a living ecology, about one’s ancestral home writ large, about having a place in a natural order) – is, if not the book’s overriding theme, certainly the one it spends the most time consciously thinking about. (I mean, it’s literally the title). And the book really does try to make the conflict genuinely difficult and nuanced; our heroine is a voracious and vitriolic partisan of the Earth-is-special side of things, but the text pretty clearly doesn’t agree with her about that as much as it does some of her other positions.

The entire debate was honestly fairly reminiscent of some debates you see floating around Tumblr every so often. The Ringers have created a curated toy ecology to keep their habitats pleasant and livable, and that done see their abandoned homeworlds as containing nothing really worth mourning in fact they’ve literally pulled them apart as raw materials for their orbital habitats and megaengineering projects. Judy views the idea of humanity doing the same – even to Mercury or Mars, let alone Earth - as both horrifying and, well, not quite profane (her Judaism is definitely an important part of her character, but she never directly uses theology as explanation for her politics) but certainly ontologically, fundamentally wrong.

The Ringer’s teleology is pretty simple – technological advancement gives a species the ability to care for itself and free itself from the various tyrannies of nature, at the cost of expending scarce resources on a dozen different fronts and eventually leaving their planet uninhabitable. The only question is whether they’ll escape the world or die with it. Humanity is the first species they’ve encountered that hadn’t already gone with option B. More fundamentally – and here’s where the human corporates jump enthusiastically on board – leaving the planet behind means refusing the limits of ecology, and to an extent of scarcity. Populations in the trillions, a dyson swarm, mega-engineering projects with millennia-long schedules. Not to mention the whole romance of endless new horizons, novelty and exploration and a consciously arranged world.

Which is all, of course, exactly the dream the Watershed Networks spent their revolution fighting against. The Chesapeake Network is from every indication a very nice place to live, but it’s also very much defined by the necessary scarcity that comes with trying to live sustainably, and in harmony with the horrible damaged biome you’re also in the middle of a massive, civilizational infrastructure project to restore. International travel and imported goods strictly limited by carbon budget, international communication strictly limited by the need to limit potential infection vectors for malware, apparent societally normative coparenting and/or polyamory as a labour-saving thing – abstracted away from the specifics of space travel, it’s basically the perennial degrowth argument on here.

Though as far as space colonization qua space colonization goes, it’s kind of fascinating to compare Garden’s take on it to how it’s presented in Terra Ignota? Which is to say, Ada Palmer presents spreading through space as a heroic endeavour – something worth doing for its own sake, because it is in some sense humanity’s purpose, but a great and arduous project that will strain every available resource and lead to a lot of impoverishment and scarcity for the doing. Which comes amusingly close to mirroring exactly how Emrys characterizes staying on Earth.

A few trillion aliens willing to handle the capital expenditure for relocation and infrastructure do change the math a bit, I suppose.

...and It’s Gardeners

Which is to say, the Watershed Networks. As I said above, they’re clearly intended to be something of a flawed or incomplete utopia, generally heroic and praiseworthy but with major blindspots and issues. I’ve got qualms about what those issues are and their severity, but I’ll save that for the petty bitching section below. Besides, given that they’re decently thought out and detailed, it’s honestly more interesting to examine them as an incomplete utopia and the principles underlying them.

So, the networks are a high tech cybernetically-organized federation of green anarchists, organized around the watershed of a major river and with the civilizational mission to protect and restore that watershed’s ecology; coordination between watershed’s seems to be limited to small scale trade or else matters which affect multiple watersheds.

‘High tech’ isn’t a joke, either – augmented reality interfaces seem totally normative and almost necessary given their government, not to mention the ten thousand different monitoring systems used to keep track of the status of each part of the whole ‘unfuck the ecosystem’ project. Robotic drones and prosthetic limbs with full haptic feedback were both totally unremarkable – anprims they really aren’t.

They govern themselves by – okay, I said ‘by reddit’ above and that’s mostly a joke. But like, only mostly. By infinetly flowering nested chats and discussion fora dedicated to any topic of public interest, to which any citizen can contribute to the debate or propose action items through that AR interface, with ones weight on any given issue being determined by the algorithm’s approximation of the community’s trust in your wisdom and expertise on topics like what’s being discussed (‘Utopia’ means taking as read that this works).

Beyond just weighting and being an automod, the Dandelion algorithm also encode the Network’s values, amplifying the voices that live up to them and de-emphasizing those that don’t. And most of all, they act as phantom votes representing the Watershed’s nonhuman constituents, boosting suggestions and action items based on the interests of the wider ecology, wildlife, etc.(again, accepting that this works is basically the price of admission).

So far so Eclipse Phase-but-green. But there’s a couple specifically interesting things about the whole setup that I do want to focus on.

First, the whole theory of politics and decision making underlying the Networks (and the book) is something like a wholehearted belief in the wisdom of crowds – that everyone involved cooperating and trying to come up with a crowdsourced solution through moderated debate will lead to better ideas and better solutions than a small group of experts or conspirators or operatives. And the book does actually commit to this – basically every time anyone from the Watershed goes off on their own and assumes they need to make an important decision on their own/in a small group it blows up right in their face.

You know the one line from Men In Black? ‘A person is smart. People are dumb, panicky dangerous animals”? The book basically commits to the exact opposite of that.

More minor but it did just strike me as interesting – Judy (and, I think, other networers) never refer to each other by their job title, and in fact object to it. Judy is not an environment engineer, she just does some environmental engineering work, as well as jam making, gardening, child-raising, and a dozen other things. On the one hand, almost everything about the life of someone in the networks pretty much has to be pretty legible – basically everything seems to be public, the community is tight knit and expected to host each other as needed, everyone wears pronoun pins, the entire labour-allocation and weighting system must require immense amounts of information on each individual participant – but on the other, none of them are ever reducable down to their jobs or roles. Reminds me of that one Heinlein quote, honestly. ‘Specialization is for insects’ and all that.

Cultural Exchange

I don’t really have much to say here, but it’s a prominent enough theme I’d feel remiss if I didn’t mention it, so. Aside from the high politics and idealogue-ing, Garden is really concerned with what the worm’s-eye-view of cultural exchange following First Contact might look like, and just demonstrating different ways that culture can be shared.

Which is why I really can’t be too annoyed at the implications of both species of Ringers and humans being able to both consume and appreciate each others cuisine – Emrys has clearly some of those ultra-viral tumblr posts about how sacred sharing food is, and the sharing of meals and ways of eating is a pretty key way the book both characterizes cultures (e.g. corporate culture ‘feast food’ being a way of showing off artifice and competing to make novel designs its impossible to guess the taste of is just one more way they’re shown to be obsessed with appearances and artificiality and general decadence) and demonstrates trust or sharing between them.

Beyond meals (or as part of them), there’s also religion and ritual used for much the same purpose. And sex, of course – it takes like a week and a half for Judy to go from being introduced to intelligent alien life to asking one of them if he wants to try a threesome – and, probably more importantly, family and children. There’s a whole gimmick about how Ringer matriarchs always bring their children with them to negotiations as (among other things, roughly) a show of good faith, and expect humans to do the same. The book seems slightly unsure of itself about how much it thinks this is a good idea (also about Ringer family structure/matriarchal authority more broadly, to a less degree), but the different species of children bonding and playing together while their parents is pretty clearly shown as an unambiguous good.

And finally-

Complaining

Because if I’m going to think about literally any piece of media for this long, I end up with annoyances I need to vent about. So! In no particular order, narrative issues, worldbuilding issues, and random nitpicking.

The whole final arc of the plot – basically everything after they leave Earth – felt incredibly rushed for how much it was trying to introduce. Now, getting a little glimpse of how the Ringers lived and worked and bickered was absolutely necessary, but there just was not enough wordcount devoted to it to really be anything more than a glimpse. The politiking just felt broad and clumsy, and the way Ringer politics worked a bit half-baked. Beyond which, there’s all these hints of interesting power dynamics and inequalities among the Ringers but then the book never really expands on or does anything with them (beyond, like, spending half a page introducing the concept of pronouns pins and...okay ‘being trans’ is wrong because one of the species’ seems to be entirely genderfluid as a rule, but determining ones own gender? To them. And then never following up on that either!).

But beyond all that, there’s just the more significant issue is just that the entire climactic confrontation is resolved by...a tertiary character whose spoken on a single-digit number of pages being overcome by conscience and admitting the whole corporate conspiracy and sabotage which is responsible for every wrong thing the Networks have done so far. Not even under prodding or courting from the protagonists, either – if that one fashion designer hadn’t been a slightly more important secondary character’s sibling and just been left with the luggage, the Networks would have been fucked. Instead, the one bit of testimony sways the assembled aliens and saves the day. Just felt too neat and easy and unearned.

More annoying still is the specifics of how the Networks failings are portrayed. Now, as I said above, they aren’t portrayed as perfect, but the book does a thing I really, truly despise in fictional worldbuilding (in large part because of how common it is in nonfiction too) where essentially every thing the networkers get wrong and every stupid mistake they make is the result of nefarious Outside Agitators corrupting and sabotaging the system – like the evil corporate spies and hackers are literally responsible for everything wrong with Networker politics, and if they hadn’t sabotaged the Dandelion Network there’s no way people would ever get anything wrong. Puts a bad taste in my mouth, like the people who never shut up about any stupid mistake done by ‘their’ side being a false flag.

Beyond that, like – okay, so if I’m going to take the book on its own terms I just have to accept that this anarchist network is capable of coordinating labour on a vast and detailed enough scale to handle ecological restoration efforts that are halfway to terraforming at this point, and capable of mustering and deploying coercive force with enough strength to actually cow and keep in line numerous polities with more centralized social organizations that historically really do win at that sort of thing. Sure, okay, not exactly fair to ask Emrys to Solve Anarchism, even if I’d have really loved some acknowledgement of where exactly all the metal and rare earths for all these robots and prosthetic and IT infrastructure is coming from (sure, carbon budgets, but like – where’s the Chesepeak’s sacrifice zone that got designated to hold all the mining and heavy industry?).

More importantly, though, I can still wish the book had dug into the guts of the system and, like, pproblematized it a bit? The fact that public debate and the weighting of people’s votes is controlled by these opaque algorithms seems like it requires investing your programmers (not even just programmers, specifically the ones working to maintain this incredibly intricate system) incredible amounts of trust and power they could abuse without people really noticing! Or take the fact that political debate is structured and influenced by the consciously determined ethical and political principles built into the system; okay, so the system’s a full generation old now, yes? Is there no controversy, no generational divide, no resentment among the younger cohort about their speech and opinions being weighed according to their parents ideals? The whole setup seems like it’s built to exemplify that one Marx quote, traditions of the dead weighing like a nightmare on the brains of the living &c. There are multi generational households, and the family is clearly an important socio-economic unit, with some being much more prestigious and influential than others, so how does inheritance work in this anarchist utopia? There’s some interesting drama to dig into, here!

Beyond that, everyone in the Networks is just too...nice? Like, the final epilogue involves the corporae programmer who literally created the malware that almost destroyed everything – and did get people killed – defecting. And absolutely no one holds any sort of grudge? She’s just given a house and told to start helping when she can? Which I found pretty hard to swallow on like three or four different levels (‘do they just keep spare houses lying around to give away whenever someone needs’, not least. If you’re deeply concerned with living sustainably and in harmony with nature, immigration and land/resource use are actually major issues that are going to run into a lot of resource constraints, especially if you’re trying to rewild or diversify what had been industrial farmland).

And significantly less important but – the fact that everyone who appeared on screen (anarchists, corporate executives, federal bureaucrats, random Network programmers and partygoers and corpro interns and-) is basically a queer feminist with only a vague historical understanding of being oppressed on the basis of gender or sexuality (and the only exception is one of Judy’s coparents being raised in an oppressive ‘Purist’ cult he eventually escaped from) is probably necessary to keep all sides at least potentially sympathetic to the expected audience, but it did hurt the verisimilitude of the worldbuilding some, for me. Though hey, maybe that’s just me being unduly pessimistic, fuck knows there’s been plenty of progress on those fronts between 1960 and now, so hey!

Anyway yes, good read!

#book review #a half built garden #ruthanna emrys #sff #solarpunk #sorry this is so long #and that I didn't bother really editing

[frostycatblr-fandom-files]

Sorry, Wrong Comms! : Hunter x Medic!Reader [Chapter 7]

Warnings and Information: Intended audience is 13+ (18 if you squint.) **THIS IS PART ONE OF CHAPTER 7.** I needed to cut the chapter in “half” to avoid a nearly 14k word count (at my current estimation)! There will be a Chapter 7.5 with the bulk of the chapter material, and the W&I has been halved appropriately to cover each respective part without being a mile long or spoiling what's to come. ;)

Should hopefully know the drill about my use of italics, Mando'a and headcanons by this point in the series. Mostly Star Wars swearing. Couple of lines throughout both halves get suggestive. Batch throws a surprise birthday party via trickery à la Crosshair. (Read as, to Hunter: mildly "weaponizing" the profession of Medic!Reader.) Vague, passing mention of self-injurious behavior brought up with discomfort and anxiety. Mentions of stitches and vague descriptions of healing injuries. Hopefully the explanation for the reason Hunter's (mostly) healed so fast within two days makes sense [as a reminder we're just pretending we understand how Star Wars medicine works for this AU]. Trying to explain the layout of the house is tricky, but at least bedrooms aren't. Party shenanigans start kicking off. Passing reference to alcoholic beverages, but none are actually present.

Word-count: 5,899

tpp-tpp-tpp-tpp-TPP!

The stern scratching at her door in the afternoon roused her from the holofilm she'd been watching, and she realized with a start what time it was. Blast, she'd honestly meant to grab a bite to eat an hour ago, but she'd been so absorbed in the plotline of the film Tech had said Omega and Hunter had been watching in the picture she was shown that she hadn't actively kept track of the time. Maybe that ruckus at the door was the little stray Tooka kitten she'd been seeing lately, hearing another round of scratching start up. 

Poor little thing - she wasn't sure how to tell the difference between male and female Tooka, she wasn't in animal medicine but at least knew that Tookas were a specific breed of Loth-cat - had been so skinny and malnourished the last time she'd seen it she left a plate of meat scraps out for the little mite the first time she'd noticed them skulking around and hoped for the best. 

Every now and then, the little thing she'd named Spoon showed up, looking healthier with each visit. (Why the name "Spoon", she couldn't remember.) Maybe that was them. "Spoon? That you, little thing?" Blast it, the door was acting sticky again and wouldn't open all the way. "Hold on little guy, gimme a second…" 

Dexterous fingers wrapped around the exposed lip of the blast door and helped [____] wrench it back to her surprise in a burst of frustrated strength. "Who the shit you calling little?" Crosshair inquired in a voice of shivering silk as the medic fully tugged open the door. 

He did not enjoy being called "little" ironically. He'd tolerated it well enough on the rare occasion he got sick and decided he wouldn't tough it out like a foolish cadet might; he understood well enough the woman had her habits given the age range of her patients. But he did not tolerate the memory of the old impressions that he was incapable of minding himself or keeping his brothers safe just because he didn't fit the general body type of the Grand Army of the Republic.

Her hands went icy and the knuckles paled with the force of the tight curling as she tried to explain herself. "Er, definitely not you Crosshair. I'm so kriffing sorry about that; I thought there was-" 

Rrow! Hccck! 

Spoon darted between the pair, skittering to a halt in front of the man with its hackles raised up at the sniper, one chicken-like paw raised threateningly and poised to swat. The toothpick rolled with the dry chuckle in response to further hissing and teeth-baring, the fleeting moment of the marksman's anger gone. "Hm. Didn't know you had a pet, doc. Don't think your Loth-cat likes me."

Her giggle was returned with a single, hearty chuckle as he bent over and scooped the light-furred feline off the stoop by the scruff like it weighed nothing in his hand. [____]'s head wagged slowly, eyes fixed on the feline currently held aloft in the dexterous hands of the often-moodiest member of the Bad Batch. "Oh the little one isn't mine, he or she's a stray, far as I can tell," she murmured, still distractedly watching the pissed-off critter do their best to intimidate the sniper. "I'm sorry, Cross, guess this stray I've been feeding on occasion really doesn't like you!"  

"Nothin' I'm not used to." The drawl of Crosshair's slightly smoky, serpentine voice was devoid of any self-pity or anger she might have expected, forgetting he tended to look back on his time as a cadet with near-total apathy as a way to cope with the experimentation. (It's the past, doll. Shit sucked, I won’t lie to you. Long-necks probably pretended they were deities while making the perfect soldiers for the perfect army. I try not to cry about it much.) "And this little womp rat doesn't scare me. Takes a guy with a tough act to recognize another's; I don't give a Sith's left tit if… she doesn't like me." 

Duh, looking under the Tooka's tail, why hadn't she thought of that? "Spoon is a “she”?" 

Crosshair just nodded and set the wriggling critter down, laughing softly at her when Spoon swiped at him in warning (and missed) before she slunk off into the open door of [____]'s house with a final spitting hiss and bared teeth. Looks like the medic had been adopted by a Tooka kitten now. Crosshair stitched his arms loosely across his chest, casually leaning back against the doorframe to soften his stance. "Guess I should stop circling the gunship and get to the hangar. Sorry to make you play doctor on your birth-day, kid, but I've got a concern about Hunter that I wanted to run by you, if that's alright." 

Right to it, no excuses: Clearly if Crosshair was concerned, this had to be something. He never liked openly admitting things weren't quite right to those he didn't trust. She knew she was one of the lucky few, so she took it seriously. "More than; I take it something came up?" She had a few possibilities in mind. Bad reaction to something she prescribed? Did he need something stronger? Did his brother think Hunter had come down with something since his immune system was going to be temporarily out of sorts with severe injuries like that?

"His stitches. They haven't torn, but they're driving him crazy because those lacerations seem to have nearly healed up. We're not sure how long they take to, uh, absorb? Dissolve?" Crosshair shrugged when he wasn't sure what the appropriate word to use was. Yeah, he'd heard her go over the jargon with Omega just two days ago, but so much had happened since then that the doctor was unaware of. "I'm not the JOAT-med, so I figured that was better to ask you." 

"Right, right…" [____] hummed softly in agreement, thinking before gently probing into the problem, "when you say they're driving him "crazy" you mean…?"

"He keeps trying to scratch at them if they aren't covered with gauze." Blast, that wasn't what she hoped to hear, but it was hardly a surprise all the same. She found them unpleasantly itchy herself in a past incident that necessitated their use after a classmate wasn't being careful with his scalpel. No surprises that student was thrown out of that intergalactic med school shortly after, and she got to be the live demonstration for how to stitch wounds by hand.

To this day she could still find a faint, pinkish scar on her non-dominant hand. A reminder that her profession was only just beginning, back then. The smallest taste of things to come in her efforts to aid the sick and the injured in the galaxy. "I see. Well, glad to hear we're trying to keep them covered, from the sound of things." Look on the bright side. "I don't mind swinging by and checking those stitches, if that's what you have in mind." 

"So long as you really don't mind…" Crosshair checked once more. He and the others, minus Hunter who was against the idea of being used as bait no matter what truth there was to the stitches, were sure this would guarantee that they'd get her over to their housing so they could throw her a little party. Nothing too fancy by any means, but they knew that wouldn't be an issue. Nobody ever remembers how well a party was decorated, just how much fun it was. 

And they did hope it'd be a night to remember, with or without Hunter professing his feelings. Her first birthday she wasn't working at her clinic in a few years, and a long awaited taste of normalcy - participating in a special occasion - for all of the vode. 

"Not at all, I swear. Let me grab my medbag." [____] insisted with a sunny smile. “Be right back.”

“No rush,” Crosshair promised, pulling something out of his pocket. When she ducked back into the house, Cross tapped out a simple message into the communication device.

target acquired ETA five min

think you better take something for your nerves, lover boy

He smirked devilishly at the unamused reply from his bandana’d brother just before the medic stepped out of the house, her bag of supplies in-hand.

Shut the kriff up.

"SURPRISE, KID!" Wrecker's voice boomed loudest over his brothers' and sister's as [____] and Crosshair breached the threshold. 

There were party decorations at eye level and near the ceiling that immediately caught her attention. All the same color/s in various shades and hues. Plastic and foil balloons scattered throughout the house. Tacked to the wall in the central room was a large paper banner, bearing her name in Echo's tidy Aurebesh behind the Clone-specific quirk of a hyphenated happy birth-day. 

"A-aw guys…" she spluttered, voice tight and choked with emotion, "...y-you really-?" She felt silly that she was dangerously close to crying, not quite sure why the simple act of them throwing a little surprise party for her, such a happy notion, was bringing tears to her eyes like this. 

"Sorry, kid…" Echo tutted soothingly, drawing her close to him with the tight encircling of both arms, that steady and comfortable pressure that allowed her to feel the rumble of his chest as he spoke, "we didn't overwhelm you, did we?" 

"N-no! No-no, I just wasn't expecting this," [____] assured her friends as they came closer to make sure she was okay, or going to be, drawing the heel of her hand across her face to dry her eyes with a light-hearted chuckle. "I came 'cause Crosshair said that Hunter's stitches were bothering him, as a way to get me here I guess, and I wanted to see how I could help… I hadn't expected a little party at all." Oh Maker, she had to admit he'd gotten her good, that kind of concern specific to Crosshair had felt so real and… 

She looked up at Hunter directly for the first time once Echo had released her, asking Wrecker to help him pull the party snacks out of the kitchenette and set them out now that [____] was here. She expected to see a sheepish and apologetic grin from the man with that dark, handsome half-skull tattoo, maybe hear a gentle murmur of apology for weaponizing her profession in order to get her to come by; that he was fine, that she didn't need that big medbag carried in her non-dominant hand.

But she could see it when she really looked at his face, the sharp pinch in his brow and the raised tracklines of his fingernails where he scratched around the gauze she could see under the neckline of his shirt, (again in her favorite color, all of them were wearing something in her favorite color she realized), that there was truth to Crosshair's admittance of concern for one of his family after all. "Oh… Hunter, would you like me to take a look at the stitching?" 

Hunter shifted his weight from left to right foot, then back again. "I-if you don't mind..."

She was not about to let her friend, a dear friend and an often selfless man, wave off his needs or deny himself some relief, comfort, just because it was her birthday. "Not at all, I swear. Where would you prefer we take care of this for you?" 

Hunter regarded the question with a healthy degree of guilt. You could take the doctor out of her clinic, but you couldn't stop her from doing her job. Not even on her birthday. Maker, she was so selfless. So devoted to the sick and injured. So worried. 

"Hunter, I really do mean it when I said I don't mind at all. Crosshair, he, uh…" she glanced at the brother in question with a look of uncertainty, and when given an approving nod she continued, "Crosshair said the stitches were driving you crazy. Or he was worried that they were. S-something like that." Of course Crosshair had noticed, as expected, but telling her? That's what he'd gone with in order to lead her to their house? Did he weaponize her dedication to her profession?

Why was she looking at him like that?

Crosshair's hand caught his wrist, voice a sharp but low rumble, the warning thunder before a storm. "Hunter. Stop trying to scratch your stitching, for Maker's sake. Let her take care of it." 

"S-sorry," Hunter tried, hoping to placate Crosshair's temper and [____]'s expression of gnawing worry. "didn't realize I was…" 

Crosshair turned back to the grown woman, addressing her while he kept Hunter's hand in check. "His room is the door you can see at the end of the hall. You won't want to use the 'fresher, still need to mop up some water on the floor." 

"Meant to get a pipe fixed… Got fixated and caught up with helping decorate." Tech muttered apologetically, rattling down a note-to-self with the keys of his datapad at the sniper's reminder. "It should not pose a problem and prevent use of the refresher during the party for anyone." 

"No worries! Good to know." [____] chuckled softly, giving Tech a reassuring smile and a nod to Crosshair so she could take Hunter's hand. The casual nature of the gesture made his heart flutter. "Okay, bedroom it is. Shouldn't be too long." With every door they passed, Hunter just wanted to sink into the floor, deep into the planet's crust if he could. Yes he'd once dreamed of a moment like this, whether that would've been with someone special or just a casual little tryst during the days of the Clone Wars, feeling so dominant and powerful and wanted with some sexy little thing caged on the mattress below him but… 

Those steamy scenes didn't take place in corners of the galaxy that looked so dull. Sterile. A carbon copy of a minimalism showroom out of those one-in-a-million remodeling shows you could find somewhere on the Holonet. 

"Wow," [____] started, breaking Hunter's cycle of thoughts, "pretty tidy in here. Think I might have to ask you for some pointers on how to organize mine, heheh…" He understood the teasing was meant also as a compliment, but Maker, he hated his room. Barren walls. The muted paint the housing came with. The snug, uneven desk he never used aside from doing weapon care in the upper right-hand corner. A few dingy, beat up books on top of the footlocker at the foot of his bed that he found kicking around the Marauder that no one had memory of collecting. 

That's what caught her eye first as she moved past the footlocker to set the medkit at the end of the bed. "Those look well loved… I didn't take you for reading in your spare time," she admitted with a gentle smile, hoping by talking about general things, Hunter wouldn't be so embarrassed about stripping off half of his clothing in front of her if he had something to focus on. As he slowly hiked the short-sleeve over his head she noted the two different names on the spine of each book and asked over the soft grunt of pain, "Your favorite authors?" 

Through gritted teeth as he did his best not to swear out loud, Hunter shook his head stiffly. "Kriff… N-not really… just kinda keep 'em around, I guess." [____] hummed pleasantly, breaking open the seal around a blindly selected fresh roll of gauze. Get the last step ready and waiting for her so she could cap off this unofficial in-house treatment that much quicker for him once she'd relieved him of his bothersome sutures. "Is it just the stitching on your shoulder that's being a nuisance? Or the ones here too?" Gesturing to the larger patch of gauze taped to his stomach, she couldn't immediately see signs he'd been itching around or messing with the bandage tape since the last time he or his brothers had likely changed out the wrappings. 

Hunter shook his head, sucking in his teeth as [____] gingerly removed the medical wrapping taped to his shoulder. It was peculiar that the smaller of the two injuries was the one that hurt most. "Sorry… Doing my best to be gentle."

"Y-you're fine, burc'ya."

"Let's see how turning your skin blue with all that bacta-gel the past two days has been doing." The wrapping removed, [____] was now visually assessing the remnants of the detonation injury. There was no burning, glaring redness or discharge that suggested infection, and the regenerating, recovering edges that were pale and pinkish were a promising sight. She was surprised that the injury had closed so rapidly already. (Okay, she really had to pick Tech's brain about healthcare in Clones to get to the bottom of a few questions one of these days.) 

"Everything looks good. Like, really good. I can remove the sutures pretty painlessly, and you just keep on doing whatever it is that's made this close up so fast. Hiding some kind of accelerated healing factor Clones have from me, or are you using some kind of super bacta?" she couldn't help herself and paused for a moment to have a silly little giggle at her own joke, missing the moment that Hunter's pained frown briefly mirrored the medic's smile before she took a calming, self-soothing breath and went back to removing the monofilament thread. "Keeping on top of your pain with the short-term prescription, too, right?"

Hunter said nothing and just simply nodded; a lie. The last time he'd taken one of his last remaining doses was lunch, hours ago, the last of the nuna stew Wrecker had made. Echo's joking comment that the painkillers made him weepy led him to be more than a little hesitant to take them before they planned on finding an "excuse" to bring [____] by. He planned on finding a moment to discreetly take the now-tardy dose when she wasn't looking and just hoped for the best. Hope that this lie won't come back to bite him. 

Hope that he'll be brave enough tonight… tell her the truth, no more lies. No more avoidance.

“Hey-” [____]’s voice cut in softly, catching his hand wandering closer to the two-day-old injury, “no scratching, silly. I’m not afraid to wrap your hand in gauze so you can’t touch yoursel- oh Maker, that sounded- Nevermind!” Both stubbornly pretended their faces weren’t burning with embarrassment for different reasons, faces mere inches away at times as she carefully cut and removed segments of the stitching, being sure not to tug on the regenerating skin too harshly.

And neither called any attention to how they went from her holding Hunter’s hand down and away from his shoulder to interlocked fingers by the time she’d extracted the last bit of medical-grade thread.

Omega was waiting for them at the end of the hall, hands behind her back with a barely contained grin. She clearly had something for them at first glance as the door opened. "[____] needs a party hat! Hunter too!" Omega declared emphatically, rocking excitedly on the balls of her feet as Hunter and the medic returned from the back bedroom and rejoined everyone in the central area, fresh medical wrapping with a marbling pattern in a blue color-scheme peeking under the collar of the shirt he wore. 

They were the only ones not wearing hats made of thick cardstock and carefully cut ribbons of glitter-foil somewhere on their body. Echo was wearing his blue party hat on his right shoulder, the galaxy's pointiest (and most sparkly) pauldron. Wrecker's orange hat was fixed at a playful angle on his head, and Tech's yellow and Crosshair's purple party hats were perfectly upright on their own heads. 

In Omega's hands there were three remaining party hats. [____] could tell there was a hat Omega likely had in mind for her. "Oh do I, now? Whatcha got for me little lady?" Brighter than the twin stars over Tatooine, Omega grinned before singling out the party hat covered in all of the colors of the light spectrum from end to end in glitter-foil. She motioned for [____] to bend forward so Omega could easily affix the handmade hat to the head of the medic with an elastic strap, effectively crowning her with the rainbow cone. "This one's for you! Which one do you want, Hunter?" 

The last hats available were green and red. It was to the medic's slight surprise that Hunter requested the green party hat over the red, and that Crosshair was quick to step in behind Hunter and help him comfortably adjust it so Hunter didn't upset the fresh wrapping over his left shoulder by trying to reach over his head. "Thanks, Cross…" 

There was a firm squeeze around the right shoulder. "Don't mention it. I'll go get the drinks now. Really get this party kicked off." Crosshair ducked into the kitchen unit and could be heard rooting through several shelves in various cabinets, calling out to one of his brothers after a long, contemplative pause. "What did they call these things again at that one place we tried after getting the ban from 79's?"  

"Oh-oh, don't forget the kid's favorite stuff in the cold unit too!" Wrecker called back, drawing out a peal of giggles from his sister after sweeping Omega in the air with one arm. "We picked up a lot of your favorite drinks tha’ ya typically would have to get imported for your party; all the stuff for mocktails too!" All the fun, creative flavors without the hassle of a hangover the following morning for anyone, and nothing was anything Omega would have been excluded to due to alcoholic content.

[____] smiled at the thoughtfulness and attention to detail that was so evident all around her. "Awh, you guys are too sweet..." Far sweeter than she would have ever guessed nearly a year ago. 

Tonight was gonna be a good night.

"Cross, you're not reaching high enough!" Echo called out in a singsong tone, face lit up in a mischievous smile. "Little higher… no, to the left!"

They were trying their hand at a rendition of pin-the-tail-on-the-Bantha, everyone's sides aching as everyone did their best to subtly mess with one another by giving false directions to the person playing, or a deliberate handicap beyond the simple blindfold. [____] had gone first, and had been messed with the least for her first turn. Once Cross had completed his turn, she'd be taking the blindfold again, maybe even the defunct helmet the Batchers had found kicking around in Tech's half of his and Wrecker's bedroom.

It had no functioning audio sensors or modulator microphone that allowed the wearer to speak to anyone or hear very well, and the visor had been glazed over in fifteen different coats of a thick, black paint so you couldn't even see out of it. That's the deliberate handicap they had to use on Hunter due to his finely attuned sense of direction. Crosshair briefly lamented that they had no alcohol on hand just for Hunter to try to further confuse him beyond Wrecker carefully blindfolding, then spinning the current player in place fifteen times before aiming them at the wall.

Hunter had grumbled darkly about that joke before he put on the defective equipment, saying that the label on the prescription medication (which he'd secretly taken just minutes ago at the time of the remark) warned against the mixing of painkillers and spirits, so he wouldn't have done it. Crosshair only laughed and started repeating the directions for Hunter in a louder voice once the helmet was firmly in place.

Tech had explained to the medic, while he was fitting it over Hunter's head and holding onto the green party hat for his brother for the time being, that he was intending to make the helmet suitable for the episodic instances of sensory overload that would severely overwhelm Hunter, Crosshair, and on occasion himself. That's why, for the time being, Cross was assigned the chore of speaking loud enough for Hunter to hear the directions from everyone. (For Wrecker and Echo, Tech briefly lamented he'd have to rework separate non-standard helmets. And he expressed his earnest relief that this did not appear to be an issue Omega suffered from; he still planned to make one of these helmets for her as a precaution.)

Crosshair's dominant hand shot five inches above the play-space at his new set of instructions from the ARC trooper who was really enjoying his chance to screw with the often snarky vod. "No, wait Cross, liiiiittle too high!" [____] counteracted, she and Omega giggling together on the two-seater as Wrecker gave a thirty second warning. The hand dropped three inches and the tail was tacked to the wall so he could complete his turn to remove the blindfold and inspect his attempt.

He was roughly two inches off-target. Wrecker was careful as he gave the sniper's shoulder a good-natured slugging and congratulated him on his attempt. "Hah, not bad! Got pretty close, Cross!"

"Indeed," Tech chuckled agreeably, scratching down the results in the scoring chart that came with the game, "that attempt is now tied for second-closest to the target with [____]'s first attempt after Omega's first." Somehow the female Clone had managed to get her tail just an inch and a half off target despite how unsteady she'd been after being spun fifteen times. Both the medic and marksman had been two inches off target, followed up by Tech's two and a half, Hunter's three (and in the bantha's foot), then Echo's smack in the middle of the nose (too dizzy much like Omega, and got his left and right mixed up), and finally Wrecker's tail tacked very gingerly between the bantha's eyes. "[____], it's your turn again. Here is your next tail, and the helmet, if you are interested in giving it a try still. I can hold onto your party hat if you wish."

She carefully removed the cardstock hat from her head and smoothed down her hair before trading the helmet for the conical hat from the goggled Clone. "Thanks, Techie."

"Certainly, Miss Medic."

Echo, Wrecker and Crosshair snorted with barely contained laughter at the sight of Hunter's expression of blatant confusion, his eyes enormous in disbelief. Tech of all people calling someone something other than their preferred name - or designation number - was a real rarity, let alone being so cool about having one used on him in turn by someone who wasn't one of his brothers. "Wha-? Miss Medic? And since when has she started calling you by Wrecker's nickname for-"

"That is an explanation for another time," Tech cut in, pretending not to notice the deep dive of Hunter's eyebrows as they furrowed in frustration at having been interrupted. "Perhaps after she has completed her turn. Who would you like to relay instructions to you, [____]?"

She stalled for time to think about it for a moment by once again smoothing down her hair, adjusting her grip on the helmet experimentally. Crosshair had already proven he had a volume, a sweet spot in his silken voice that was good at giving commands and directions with an edge that drew one's attention. She'd gathered many, many hints of Echo's tactical expertise that made him another suitable candidate, but there was an impulse to satisfy some new curiosities of her's since the mystery mission just two days ago… What was Hunter's voice like when he was giving orders?

Would it be like she imagined; domineering and confident without being a touch too stern like other authoritative voices she's heard throughout her life? Would she still hear hints of that same golden, tender edge she's heard him use to soothe his brothers and promise them that they couldn't be in safer hands when he thought she couldn't hear him?

She was feeling strangely shy about asking, suddenly. "Uh, Hunter, I guess? If you don't mind… Just so we're not making your brother do it every time." she added with a careful, teasing lilt in her voice that she hoped would mask the quickened pace of her heart if she could bring Crosshair into it. Crosshair just chuckled and snatched his drink along with her's to go top them off, most likely. "Don't mind at all." Hunter promised. "I'll do my best to be loud enough to hear."

With an affirming nod that it was settled and she was good to go, Wrecker carefully slipped the helmet down her head and once sure she was tucked in, spun her in place fifteen times by her shoulders, a steady hand on her at all times so she didn't lose her balance. Things were well and truly muffled outside of the helmet; the regular, steady dance of her breath was the only thing she could clearly hear inside the cranial cavity of the plastoid bell.

"Can you hear me, ad'ika?" Hunter sounded very faraway with her head submerged in this malfunctioning helmet. It would certainly serve the brothers well if they needed this darkened pocket of sensory deprivation. [____] nodded and stretched her arm out to the wall, hovered somewhere in front of that poster of a bantha to show she was ready, knowing her own voice would be too dampened within the helmet the same way their voices were outside of it.

His voice sounded deeper when he gave the next directive, finding his sweet spot, "Little to your left." There was a muted rumble of speech around her after she slowly swung her hand in the appropriate direction, trying to keep it the same height for the time being. “Too high.” Hunter suggested. “Go a little lower.” It was repeated again, the third word stressed this time. There seemed to be a murmur of praise behind her after she made the minor adjustment, hand falling just a smidgen. “... Crosshair says you need to go right. Just a little.” She briefly knocked elbows with Wrecker as she followed the suggestion, sparking a surprised jolt that knocked her arm slightly out of place and subsequent apology from the gentle giant that she could hear with far more clarity due to his proximity.

“Whoops, sorry kid!” He gingerly guided her back to her previous trajectory and once all were satisfied she was back on track, Hunter was back to instructing her where to go, those deep, warm and smokey timbres all the medic had to go on with the added challenge of the helmet that made it harder to hear the room around her.

“Slight climb up…” She slowly floated her hand up the poster before coming to a stop when there was a jump in the noise. “Stop there!” Moving her hand straight out in front of her, she planted the game piece into the poster and shucked the helmet to see how she did.

The cardstock bantha tail was perfectly in place on the poster.

“Ya got it, kid!” Wrecker whooped, giving [____] a celebratory hoist in the collective excitement. Once she was back on solid ground, Tech returned the party hat and congratulated the medic on her accuracy. “Well done, [____]. You started out surprisingly close to the target,” he demonstrated by lightly tapping the area of the poster where she had initially reached forward after being spun, “and with how well you interpreted Hunter’s guidance, it only took you a total of fifteen seconds to successfully pin the tail on this rendition of a bantha with… several creative liberties.” Everyone chuckled, all in agreement that this poster must be geared for slightly younger audiences given the cartoonish quality to the art style when it had been hung on the wall earlier when they were first getting ready to play the first of many games Crosshair and Omega had thought to gather when picking up the decorations and gifts from each brother the other day.

“It’ll be hard to beat a dead win,” Crosshair hummed pleasantly, handing her the drink he’d kindly refilled once she resituated the hat, “so whaddya say we give another game a try, doc? Entirely up to you.”

She took a light swig of the mocktail with a little smile, head turned to the game. Echo and Wrecker’s game pieces in particular caught her eyes, “Night’s still plenty young, Cross. Think there’s time for everyone to have a second shot at this, uh, “cute” lil’ bantha, y’know?” His sharp eyes caught the same two tails and mirrored that same casual, friendly shrug with a devil may care smile. “Alright Tech, that means you’re up next. Don’t worry, I won’t mess up your precious little scorecard.”

Tech could only direct a look of mild complaint at his brother before slipping his goggles over his head and surrendering them to Echo with a troubled sigh. “That’s not comforting…”

“I’ll watch him!” Omega’s promise was interrupted with a burst of giggles before she could climb out of her half of the two-seater and convince Hunter to trade places with her, leaning into the pretense of the “little sister charm” to sweeten Hunter to the idea of the swap. “[____]’s finished with her turn now, so you can ask her about the Miss Medic nickname she’s gotten while Tech has his turn.” That seemed to settle it for Hunter, the hesitancy to the idea of seat-swapping for “no reason” gone and forgotten in an instant when replaced with curiosity at the reminder of the earlier offer.

They offered each other timid little smiles as Hunter took Omega’s previous place next to [____] on the piece of furniture that encouraged a greater sense of sharing the same surface than the spacious sofa that had been pushed against another wall for the time being; the simple, undeniable fact of being nearly elbow-to-elbow felt more intimate to them both.

After a beat of silence to allow Tech to start his round on the best foot, she returned the smile that Hunter silently prayed to the Maker didn’t look nervous.

“So, uh… where’d “Miss Medic” from Tech come from?”

“Heh…” [____] chuckled softly, quickly considering how much detail she’d include, “Not all that long or interesting a story, honestly, but if you really wanna know… It originally started because Wrecker accidentally used “Techie” instead of Tech when he wasn’t around; that was while Tech was piloting my medical ship back to the planet. Then I accidentally let it slip that I knew about the nickname when the two of them swung by my clinic at lunch to get more medical supplies after they’d heard my last patient before closing for lunch-rush call and referred to me as “Miss Medic”, several times, I’m sure...”

As the two of them shared a little laugh together, Hunter surmising that Tech had been fine with the medic knowing such a silly little nickname because he could now give her one of her own in kind, each of them easily missed the conspiratorial smiles on the other side of the room.

Things seemed promising from this vantage point.

“So far so good.” Echo muttered under his breath with a knowing toss of his head to the marksman, easily playing off the overheard remark as encouragement meant for Tech. “That’s definitely looking like a step in the right direction…”

Taglist: @dragonrider9905  @ladytano420  @the-hexfiles @ilovethosebrowneyes9904​

Note from Frost: Hope you’re all ready for a real long one next time! If you would like to be added to the taglist that is currently just specific for Sorry, Wrong Comms!, (I may start a taglist for all Star Wars related fanfiction projects that will be marked accordingly with #frostfics in the near future if there is interest) don’t hesitate to shoot me an ask or a comment loves. 🩷 

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#frostfics #Sorry Wrong Comms! #sw tbb fanfic #tbb x reader #tbb hunter x reader #hunter x reader #tbb hunter x you #tbb hunter #hunter tbb #tbb headcanons #sw tbb #star wars au #star wars fanfiction #star wars x reader #x reader #tbb crosshair #tbb tech #tbb omega #tbb wrecker #tbb echo #the bad batch #tbb

[writhe]

feeling Bad because i’ve had a weirdly frustrating day & feeling at a weird point in a lot of my friendships where ultimately i know there’s a massive level of support that could be offered (if i were in crisis) but i want more connection over mundanities or, like, my emotional world in a day-to-day sense. feeling frustrated by some other things in a way that is maybe productive but also hard to feel. i’ve had a really busy couple months or so (but i feel like im always saying this) and i want to feel cared for on like a stupid small scale because i literally do not think i’ve had a day where i haven’t been in some level of physical discomfort (pain from doing something strenuous (work related or not), hand/wrist fuckery, sickness, lack of sleep)) and i’m just like. ahh!! i feel like everyone is busy and/or sick and while it feels meaningful to show up in ways i can (& the vulnerably of someone allowing you to care from them is reciprocal in its own sense yknow?? like both in intimate ways but also like a friend let me give them a shirt and other friend let me make them soup. etc) & also just to have fun with friends in general is meaningful. but i am really not sure how to, like, solve the problem of asking to be cared for by people in general (outside of, like, idk the care that is inherent to companionship yknow? but maybe that’s all i really need and i’m just cranky today because of circumstance & feeling dramatically alone in that?) because it feels vulnerable & im not fully sure what id ask for from most people AND i also don’t know how to find ways of caring for myself (beyond what i cultivated at the moment. honestly i think i do an okay job) that would feel genuinely pleasurable or restorative. so like OK i am going to go walk three miles and then lay on my bed and angry cry at no one in particular and drink a white claw

#there is a lot of care in my life #i just like want to cultivate more and have closer interpersonal relationships #so i don’t rely heavily on like 1 or 2 people #like i want more Closeness in my life in general yk

[itsclydebitches]

Hi Clyde, I adore your metas. I can't help but feel that the way team RWBY has been handling Jaune's situation is eerily similar to how thet behaved with Ironwood back in V7: withholding trust and compassion to an ally who needs both, being dismissive of them and their plans while benefitting from them (getting shelter, weapons, licenses, a possible way out of the Ever After), and then making decisions that shatter the foundations of their trust and potentially trigger their trauma (hide crucial information, leak secrets to an opponent, celebrate the mass 'sacrifice' of the people Jaune sought to protect and questioning important knowledge he's been holding onto for years).

There's also this repeated mistake of listening to someone random for two seconds (Robyn, the cute paper person) and then quickly deciding that they know better than the ally who's been working on this for decades.

I really hope the writers take at least one simple scene to make the protagonists acknowledge that they've been in this situation before and maybe learn from their mistakes in Atlas so they don't repeat them in the Ever After with Jaune, but they've already given that 'that's how Ironwood thought' line like sharing his POV is such an outlandish thing, when to me that was the perfect opportunity to reflect on how perfectly decent people can reach that conclusion too when faced with difficult circumstances. But idk, what do you think, Clyde?

I'm so glad you enjoy them, anon! <3

Oh man, I feel like you've just articulated one of the reasons I have little faith in this Jaune vs. Ruby argument going somewhere, despite the argument itself giving me a lot of what I've been waiting for. This does feel like we've seen it before, which likewise generates the feeling that it will end the same way as Volume 8 . To summarize + add to what you've listed above:

The group enters Atlas, a foreign culture to all but Weiss / The group enters the Ever After, a foreign culture to all but Jaune

They spend time wandering aimlessly until a battle results in their arrest / They spend time wandering aimlessly until a battle results in their rescue

They're immediately given food, shelter, and weapon upgrades / They're immediately given food, shelter, and Crescent Rose back

The group learns that Ironwood has been shouldering everything alone, resulting in mental health struggles / The group learns that Jaune has been shouldering everything alone, resulting in mental health struggles

They express discomfort, annoyance, and a low-key fear rather than sympathy / 🔁

Ironwood admits that not everything is solved yet, but he has a plan to re-establish communications / Jaune admits that not everything is solved yet, but he has a plan to try and find a way out

The group is frustrated that their problems aren't solved now that they've arrived / 🔁

Ironwood promotes them into a new position of authority, huntresses / Jaune promotes them into a new position of authority, defenders of the Paper Pleasers

Doing everyday Huntsmen activities is met with more frustration and a casual dismissal of its importance / 🔁

The girls immediately trust Robyn with no evidence despite being wary of allies / The girls immediately trust this one Paper Pleaser despite being wary of their ally

Ren calls the group out on their horrific mistakes and is immediately dismissed / Jaune calls Ruby out on her horrific mistakes and immediately apologizes

There's a lot of questioning about Penny's worth as a person until Ruby decides she needs to be human / There's some questions about the worth of the Paper Pleasers as people until Ruby decides they're "make believe"

Penny commits assisted suicide and that's celebrated by the story (via her happy reunion with Winter / The Paper People commit suicide and that's celebrated by the story (via Ascension)

Atlas is left in ruins, regardless of how 'necessary' that was to escape / The village is left in ruins, regardless of how 'necessary' that was for them to Ascend

Obviously there are going to be some similarities due to Volume 9 continuing the themes and questions of Volume 8, but yeah, it really feels like the group is walking the same path and making the same mistakes: find someone knowledgeable, powerful, and compassionate, doubt them because they haven't fixed every problem, further doubt them because their struggles have led to deteriorating mental health (the fact that we're supposed to be feeling for Ruby in the same episode that Jaune is labeled crazy...), dismiss the personhood of non-human entities (WHAT HAPPENED TO "SQUISHY GUTS" BEING UNNECESSARY? My Nuts and Dolts heart aches for old Ruby), then shrug off leaving a place destroyed because hey, you've gotta do what you've gotta do. Rinse and repeat, I guess.

All that's left is for Jaune to unexpectedly go off the deep end in a completely OOC manner, resulting in him trying desperately to do some good in his final moments while Team RWBY escape the Ever After, presumably leaving him to die :/

(Obviously idk what they're going to do with Jaune - it's a tricky situation, to say the least - but if they don't go the easy route of, "Then the tree magicked him young again and we'll never mention that he's mentally in his 50s!" I honestly wonder if they'd kill him off. I have problems with how Jaune is written, specifically in how he's prioritized by the plot over the girls, but I do not want him to meet an Ironwood-esque end.)

#rwde #rwby #mymetas

[kanguin]

On my way to work today, I spent some time reflecting on my experience with autism growing up after listening to a video talking about neurodivergence in general. And it really hit me just how frustrated I am with the limitations that are placed upon me with autism. While my stunted social capabilities is frustrating in its own right, the thing that makes me feel the most helpless and aimless is my flat affect and muted emotional spectrum. I used to think that I'm just not really very emotionally impacted by things that happen to me, but in reality I feel the feelings, but just, cannot express them in a way that I or others understand. And because some feelings like fear, anger, sadness, and joy, are self-feeding emotions that react to your own expression of them, the fact that I often don't express an emotion or am even aware it is affecting me until I assess the symptoms afterwards, means that my emotional reactions rarely "bloom" for lack of a better word. This also means that a lot of my emotional reactions to things that happen to me go completely unnoticed by myself and others around me, meaning my emotional needs often go by the wayside and get buried as more things happen. I should point out this does apply to all emotions; I've been questioned on my level of interest in the past when the idea of going to Disney World was discussed as a kid, despite the fact that heck yeah I was excited! But it came out as "Yeah I'd love to!" in a flat pleasant voice that reads to allistics as meager enthusiasm.

My emotions do get loud and pronounced sometimes, but I've found usually only when overwhelmed, or when the circumstances are JUST right for me to express Big Joy (genuine excitement). Hell I still to this day have trouble relating to people defined by big emotions. Anger is one I definitely struggle to relate to, because it's a lot easier to keep a cap on your anger when you don't always notice frustration at first, so things rarely have a chance to boil because the fire isn't fed. Even for things I really SHOULD get angry about, I get mildly indignant or frustrated, and I sometimes feel like voicing my frustrations then make me sound impotent and pathetic. Probably because I was bullied in a way where people tried getting a rise out of me to see my reaction, but yeah. People who explode with righteous fury scare the living daylights out of me, even though I know they're right. It's just so alien, to me. I honestly feel weak-willed sometimes, and get frustrated with the fact that I don't pursue my interests or dreams with any more than moderate passion. I'm pretty sure if I put my mind to it I could gather my finances, find the right, well paying job, and move out within a year, but because my mental disress at being confined to my mother's home simmers barely above lukewarm until it errupts so big that I can't think clearly, before going back to tepid… I just make no progress.

The fact that it took me so long to realize that I'm not cis, and then when I realized that, it took me so many years to accept that I wasn't just "neutral" but wanted to start HRT and wanted to be outwardly perceived as a girl, is all entirely due to how muted my experience of my emotions is. I've debated for a while on whether or not I experience dysphoria about my appearance, and I've come to the conclusion "yeah, I do and I have for a long time going back to early high school". It's kind of obvious in retrospect that not wanting to dress out around boys and starting to prefer to wear a swim shirt with the convenient excuse of being pale/fat, were forms of not wanting to be perceived by others for how my body was. It's so painfully obvious now that the disress that my voice dropping brought me was not just because it was sudden, but because it was dysphoric, not me. But it took so long to even realize that because my emotions are so muted that extreme discomfort is hard to tell apart from mild discomfort unless analyzed in retrospect.

The school psychologist for the early college entrance program I attended my junior year of high school once told me that the thing that sets me apart from my peers is that while most of them had strong dissatisfactions with their life as it was, I was just extraordinarily content with whatever life gave me. And for years, I believed that, becasue yeah, I generally just accept whatever happens to me without much fuss, I don't fight for anything, even if I want it. But hindsight has proven her so, so very wrong about that. And I don't really blame her, she was making the best of what I presented with her and the accounts I gave. I didn't have an official diagnosis of Autism or anything so there was nothing really signalling that my mild, placid demeanor was the combined effort of severely stunted emotional expression and complexity and the early signs of depression. So now I just have to look back, and wonder how differently I would have developed as a kid were my convictions just a little stronger, were my emotions just a little louder. It's not much use looking back and wondering, but it's hard not to when you feel that a defect in your brain has basically held you back from achieving what you want for most of your life.

I'm extremely thankful to the friends I have in my life today. I've learned so much about recognizing my own emotions and my emotional needs from people around me that care so deeply for me. I don't talk to my friends as much as I should, but the past week I've been putting in a concerted effort to talk more, about anything. Just more time with these people who mean so much to me but I give so little of myself to. And I haven't gotten to prioritizing all of the people I consider the most important to me just yet; I have about two or three friends I still want to make sure I set aside time and energy for, but I'll get there in time. My mental health hasn't been great for a long while, for a combined number of reasons, but I want so badly to have quality time with my favorite people, and I think it's finally spurring me into doing something about it. I can only hope that from here on I get better at recognizing the things I want, need, and feel on a daily basis, and not just write everything off as being mildly interested.

#kanguin original #autism #neurodivergent #autism spectrum disorder #trans