#maybe it will get easier the more completed/polished stuff i post
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hey big fan of your channel and art!! was wondering if for the midnight snap series what kind of sound design you were doing it rlly sounds nice!! (also smth that could be nice with it is maybe a little bit of like tape saturation or something might be able to make the audio sound "warmer" if youre like not already doing something like that already, but you probably know better than me!!) feel free to ignore that, but wanted to say in general its so well done and sounds so good!!! its really cozy and nice!!
hey thank you!!! yeah i'd.... genuinely LOVE to talk about my thinking and approach behind the sound design, i'm actually so happy you asked me this LOL this is the kind of shit i live for.
you might assume that it's just me recording the game audio and talking quietly with my normal stream settings, and that is kinda how it STARTS, but there's actually a bit more i've been doing behind the scenes :) nothing too crazy just yet but a little goes a long way when it comes to sound! i'm hoping to really nail down the soundscape and increase the quality over time and specifically up the soothing vibes by a lot. as well as get a little better about mic etiquette and my style of speech. BUT in terms of what i'm doing in post:
the first piece of the puzzle and definitely one of the most important sauces in the whole mix is the Hard Limiter. it does what you might imagine it does, basically just places a hard barrier and says "any sounds that exceed this volume.... no you don't", sort of like a much more intense compressor. currently i have a Hard Limiter on both my commentary AND the game audio, commentary i have set to peak at around -15 to -12 db, whereas game audio is more around the -23 to -20 range. in my more polished audio from later in the AC episode it's enough difference that one doesn't drown the other out in most cases, but not a wide enough gulf that people are struggling to pay attention to one in particular or have to frequently change volume (preferably they don't have to change it at all!). i took this screenshot of the episode's complete waveform when rendering out the audio-only version of AC part 1 and it was super satisfying cause like.... yeah. this is exactly the kind of waveform read i was going for. just super even and smooth across the board, save for a couple anomalies i'll buff out over time.
the next thing i do to both my own commentary and the game audio is actually just cutting down on harsher, higher frequencies with an EQ and just upping the bassier, warmer tones. i started with something super small in the first couple of episodes, i'm probably gonna go a bit harder on it for future stuff though. i wanna find a balance that doesn't make the game sound unrecognizable or anything but is noticeably easier on the ears and sounds more like a nice rolling wave rather than beep boop pac-man time.
past this i have a couple more things added to the commentary track:
to intensify the previous effect mentioned and cut down on harsh frequencies in my speech, i actually have a dedicated de-esser on my voice as well as my usual warmer EQ. i have the de-esser going pretty hard too, you might hear the difference from my usual stream commentary if you were to listen closely. really just taking those harsh t's and s's in my speech and making them sound more like a nice "shhhh", this one is super important i think
last thing i have to speak on otherwise is actually a plugin i found and bought specifically for this show and ends up being subtle but i think SUUUPER helpful in the long run, and that's this plugin called "spiff". spiff is a plugin by oeksound and i guess it's referred to as like, a transient editor? i'm actually not sure how it works at all on the nitty gritty level BUT the important thing is that they have a very important preset in the software, and that is a preset specifically designed to lessen and/or remove like... mouth sounds. yknow like lip smacks and the like. just kinda the gross smacks and clicks you don't hear as much in normal speech but can come through really intensely on a recording and kinda make ya uncomfortable. it obviously doesn't remove a lot of the more intense stuff, it's not a magic wand in my experience. but listening to the output of what it's removing on its own makes it REALLY clear there's a lot of little things it picks up and just kinda makes speech more soothing to listen to. not something i'm racing to apply to my normal streams, BUT for a sleep aid series where good audio is key????? 100% worth it, i like it a lot.
anyway yeah that's about it for now! a lot of it is pretty simple in and of itself but it's stuff i've been working at and experimenting with since i first started doing tests for the show and it's gonna be real nice to keep honing this stuff in. also cool suggestion with the tape saturation idea, i might look into something like that! once i nail stuff like leveling and frequency tuning for this show, i wanna look into some fancier ways of making the soundscape unique to this show compared to my normal streams so ideas like that are super helpful!
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The Chain and Time Management
From this ask
Time has been a productive functioning adult for a while now, he knows the rules of life, and you just need to get it done. Luckily he has an amazing wife who can divide the tasks with him: cleaning the stables, changing Epona's horse shoes, changing the sugar water etc. However, Time has a habit of taking more than his fair share of tasks and will often blitz through them without taking breaks.
Warriors is the multitasker. He's a busy guy with a lot of stuff to get done in any given day: put together next month's training schedule, finish his armour, finish that report on monster sightings east of Hyrule field etc. And he time manages by condensing as many compatable tasks as he can in the smallest possible time frame. Leading to ingenious plans like polishing his armour in the bath with one hand and writing a draft report with the other.
Twilight is sensible, he takes it a step at a time. No need to plan when you've got the next task already cemented in your mind. No fuss, since he's happy to drop whatever he's doing to help someone. No stress, he paces himself, takes breaks when he needs to and just gets on with it.
Sky is pretty lazy. He doesn't manage his time at all. And most of the time he never has to; the only way anyone's gonna get him to do anything that isn't tending to his dear loftwing or spending time with Sun, it's by physically dragging him out of bed and dictating his schedule like a helicopter parent.
Legend prioritises. He'll always choose the most important ones first and work from there. Having gone on so many adventures alone he’s used to being kept busy, preferably juggling a few small little responsibilities while chipping away at a much larger endeavour. Through experience he knows how to keep a good pace, and enjoys completing tasks.
Wild, sets time limits and when he doesn't get everything done he'll throw in the towel and get it done tomorrow. Maybe. He has a habit of procrastinating when he knows he’ll get away with it.
Flora: Why is there a pile of weaponry in your room?
Wild: Oh, I was polishing them, but I ran out of time after the first sword.
Flora: How long did you give yourself?
Wild: About an hour.
Flora: It took you an hour to polish one sword??
Four is the planner, and a very meticulous one- even having scheduled times for organizing schedules. It helps him feel in control. He doesn’t have to worry about doing too much or doing too little when he’s laid it all out before. Plus, as a blacksmith who has many a meticulous order to work through, with new drop-ins on the daily, he needs that structure to stop him from feeling overwhelmed.
Hyrule’s never really been one for time management. If something needs doing he’ll do it, from menial chores at home to a royal errand list, but he’s never been in a situation where he’s had too much to worry about. So, during the infrequent periods things do get stressful, he’ll allocate some time for himself. Break up an assigned mission for a quiet day in the woods or in his cozy cave-house experimenting with new potion recipes.
Wind collaborates, if stuff needs to get done, he’s getting it done with the crew. Not only is it easier that way, but it makes it more enjoyable. He used to make games out of house chores with Aryll, like pretending he was a water painter when mopping or pretending the dishes could sing, all while keeping them productive. Tetra calls the shots on her ship, but often Wind’s the one to delegate tasks and will usually take part because it’s fun.
~~~
Thanks for reading!
And I love the prompt anon!
Masterlist
9th place in the LU character design ranking
Character analysis posts:
Hero of the Sky, Hero of Time, Hero of Twilight, Hero of the Wild, Hero of Warriors
Parkour team - LU drabble
How each member of the chain laughs - LU headcanon
#zoodles ask#lu#linked universe#linkeduniverse#lu chain#lu time#lu twilight#lu warriors#lu wild#lu wind#lu hyrule#lu four#lu legend#lu sky#lu incorrect quotes#linked universe incorrect quotes#lu flora#lu drabble#lu fic ideas#lu fic idea#lu headcanons#lu headcanon#linked universe headcanons
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Remember the Komi-san MHA AU stuff I posted a while back? I came across a 90% complete draft for a part 4. It covered a handful of minor characters that GT didn’t mention, who I felt like making Quirks for. So I polished it some, and posted it here.
Naruse Shisuto is, of course, a narcissist. That’s his defining personality trait, half of his core gag, it’s even his name. (If you didn’t know, basically every Komi-san character has an overt pun name.) The other half of his core gag is, of course, that the only people who pay attention to him with any regularity are Komitani Chuusaku and Ase Shibuki.
The obvious way to solidify that gag would be to give him the power of...a Worm character whose name I can’t seem to remember...oh yeah, Imp. Anyways, if there’s one thing anyone who’s read these should have figured out, it’s that I don’t like sticking with the obvious answer.
So instead of giving Naruse a Quirk that makes people ignore him, I’ll give him one that works best if people do. Let’s say…a transformation into a sort of spectral state, which lets him move quickly, fly, and perhaps pass through walls or slip through narrow spaces. But the more people who watch him, the weaker the power gets—the slower he moves, the lower his flight ceiling, the more solid he remains.
A pragmatic hero with this Quirk would focus on stealth—slipping into the shadows, using the Quirk to reposition, and then striking from unexpected angles. This could make an effective Eraserhead-type hero, quietly taking down criminals from the shadows.
But Naruse doesn’t want to be Eraserhead, he wants to be All-Might; whenever he does something impressive or heroic, he deliberately calls attention to himself, weakening his Quirk enough that whatever he’s doing falls apart.
(I checked over part 2 while polishing this post and realized that I gave Naruse and Yadano the same weakness. Oops! I feel like Yadano’s would be easier to change without ruining the punchline—like, she loses control of her Quirk if she exhausts herself or something, so trying too hard to beat Komi would lead to her messing up spectacularly. Or just give her a whole new Quirk which plays on the same ideas differently.)
Ase Shibuki (who hasn’t really appeared in the anime yet) is sweaty. (Her name means “sweat droplets”. It’s pretty simple.) She’s also extremely self-conscious about being sweaty, to the point that she doesn’t like being touched specifically because she’s afraid other people will think she’s gross. Her ability to sweat is already superhuman (though not to the same extent as Najimi’s ability to make friends), so we just have to think of something that turns it from a mundane Quirk into an interesting one.
Remember that time in AtLA where Katara waterbent her sweat to get out of jail? Imagine that, but for someone that sweats literal buckets, and also she can’t bend water that isn’t her sweat. Sweat control is undeniably a pretty gross Quirk, the kind of thing someone could develop a complex about. But it’s also something that could potentially be powerful and cool.
This Ase still has that thing where she thinks people find her sweating gross, but has a plan beyond “hide my sweatiness and don’t touch people”. She’s gross, but if she can use that grossness to help people, maybe she can also be cool?
Isagi Kyoko (who also hasn’t appeared in the anime) is clean. (Both her family and personal names can mean “pure” or “clean,” with other meanings including “gallant” and “clear”.) She’s a neat freak, stoic, diligent, reliable, and germophobic.
I’m leaning towards some kind of Quirk that works well when everything’s going right, but falls apart when things start to go wrong. Like, if she has a clear image of what she’s going to do and how, her Quirk gives her the momentum to carry through with it, but if reality clashes with her image, the momentum drains away. Keeping things around her clean is one way Isagi can try to exert control over the world around her, which theoretically means her Quirk is more effective.
Not sure what form that momentum should take, though. Maybe literal momentum, maybe luck bending in her favor as long as she keeps it up. This is a bit of a first draft, but unless I return to write a fic, that’s fine. Heck, maybe it’s fine even if I did write a fic; it’s not like every character is gonna be a protagonist.
Kishi Himeko—the knight girl—would have some kind of defensive quirk, mirroring both her armored aesthetic and her reserved, defensive nature. Perhaps something like the power granted by Excalibur’s scabbard in Le Morte d’Arthur and some later works, or possessed by Worm’s Gavel. A Quirk which limits the injury Kishi can take from any one attack. All-Might punching her wouldn’t hurt her any more than a punch from some goon…though since All-Might in specific also punches fast, he could still take her down without much effort (if she was a villain).
Komitani Chuusaku would have the most powerful Quirk of all: Fourth Wall, the ability to recognize that he is in a manga (or fanfic, as the case may be). He can use this power to talk with other people on the other side of the border between manga panels (in fanfic, the other side of a...scene transition, I guess?), and has some ability to sense things beyond there. (Perhaps in a text-based fanfic, he could look at “you” before offering commentary?)
This Quirk seems inconsistent to other people, many of whom are curious just how his power works. Komitani avoids actually explaining, because he knows nobody will believe him. That’s why he likes hanging out with Naruse; there’s no way that narcissist would care about other people’s Quirks.
Komitani doesn’t care about being a main character, but he wants to remain in the comic/fanfic for as long as possible. He’s therefore interested in both keeping the series running and being a background character in as many scenes as possible, hanging around near the main characters for that reason.
This could either be hilarious or a frustrating waste of space, depending on how well it’s handled.
And some Quirk/hero names, real quick:
Naruse:
Quirk: Spectral
Codename: Spectracular. Portmanteau of his Quirk name and how he sees himself.
Isagi:
Quirk: Momentum (working title)
Codename: Immaculate. Self-explanatory
Ase:
Quirk: Sweat Control
Codename: Drench. It connects to her Quirk, without being too…sweaty.
Kishi:
Quirk:Excalibur
Codename: Chevalia. Derived from “chevalier,” literally “cavalry” but idiomatically more like “knight”.
Komitani:
Quirk: Fourth Wall
Codename: Not chosen—he’s not sure the series will last long enough for him to actually need one
That makes eighteen characters, two of them younger characters who wouldn’t be in Tadano and Komi’s class. (Or nineteen and three, but that’s sixteen classmates either way.) So if I were to turn this into a fic, I’d probably add four more characters to fill in the class roster (to make it an even 20).
The current sixteen characters are four guys, eleven girls, and a Najimi, so while I’d like to bring Inaka Nokoko and Netsuno Chika into the class, I should probably pick four guys to balance the genders a bit. So...let’s pick the three “normal guys” (Chiarai Shigeo, Sonoda Taisei, and Shinobino Mono) and Toutoi Son (the guy who looks like Buddha but is vaguely perverted). There aren’t a lot of prominent guy students in this series, huh?
Anyways, rattling off some quirk Quirk ideas:
Chiarai Shigeo the dude-gyaru (there’s a word for that but I don’t expect people to know it) gets some kind of slippery Mover power—something cool and reasonably effective, but which makes him hard to rely on. Something a couple steps removed from Koichi’s Quirk, faster but with worse handling?
Shinobino Mono the ninja shouldn’t have a Quirk that overlaps too much with Nakanaka’s Mirror Smoke, Naruse’s Spectral, or whatever Chiarai gets. So…maybe something wind-themed that lets him move fast and throw knives good? Or swapping-type teleportation, for that “ninja log” trick?
Toutoi Son the Buddha lookalike should have a power that seems peaceful and noble, but which is hiding something else. Part of me wants to give him some sort of shapeshifting power, but A. there aren’t any proper shapeshifting Quirks in canon and B. that feels less Buddha and more Sun Wukong. So, movable force fields maybe? They look like shields, until he grabs one and smacks you over the head with it.
Sonoda Taisei the…other guy has some straightforward power that’s not represented among the others. Maybe something blastery?
So the list of a hypothetical Itan High Hero Course students would be:
Agari Himiko/Kokoni
Ase Shibuki/Drench
Chiarai Shigeo/???
Isagi Kyoko/Immaculate
Katai Makoto/M-Brace
Kishi Himeko/Chevalia
Komi Shouko/???
Komitani Chuusaku/???
Manbagi Rumiko/Kanzeon
Nakanaka Omoharu/Arsene
Naruse Shisuto/Spectracular
Onemine Nene/Harmony
Osana Najimi/Tomodachiiro
Otori Kaede/???
Shinobino Mono/Ninja No. 1
Sonoda Taisei/???
Tadano Hitohito/Cognizant
Toutoi Son/???
Yadano Makeru/Calamighty?
Yamai Ren/Aphrodite
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Writing a story about myself!
Kia ora, friends!
I want to preface this by apologising to anyone who might have been expecting regular posts - it turns out its kind of a lot of work to remake these posts in a way that fits and makes sense on Tumblr! I'm hoping this might get easier when Tumblr moves to ActivityPub, but I guess we will see. So in the meantime, cross-posts here might be a bit spotty, depending on the type of content and how much of it there is, But I haven't forgottem about you!!
Now, on with the show...
On Friday just gone, my anxiety was doing a big ol’ spike after I had an interview for a course I am hoping to get into (more on that in a later update - if I get in, that is), so when the plumbers and electrician showed up to fix some stuff, I pretended to not be home. This was pretty dumb because those things really do need fixing, but now they won’t get done til at least the day you’re reading this, but my brain said no and I wasn’t about to disagree. Long-story-short, when I was getting ready to go to the supermarket and the plumbers were still packing up their gear to leave, when I had an idea - I should write something about this. So I did.
Not all the details of this story are totally accurate to what actually happened - I only wish I had had the energy to shout at the people who were partially the source of my anxiety, but alas, I did not. But a lot of this is true. I’ve had a couple of passes at this now too, so hopefully it comes off as at least a little polished compared to what it looked like a couple of days ago when I first sat down to write. I’ve got a couple other things to talk about today, but before I get to those, here’s ‘A Story About Myself’…
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Seeing if Fara wanted a shallot (she did but only to fight)
Rebecca awoke at about 11am to the sound of someone knocking on their front door. They fucking hated it when people did that – no text, no call, just shows up at their door. They stayed quiet for a few moments, waiting to see if the random stranger outside would knock again. They didn’t, so Rebecca relaxed a little bit. They could hear two or maybe three men outside the door, working with tools and such. “What the fuck are they doing?” Rebecca whispered to themselves. Several minutes later, there was another knock. “For fuck sake…” again, Rebecca waited to see if another knock would come. It didn’t. Rebecca wasn’t sure how to proceed, they last thing they wanted was to alert these strangers to their presence, but they also didn’t want to spend however long the men outside would be there, hiding in bed, so they got up and went to feed Fara, the cat.
Rebecca then proceeded to spend the next few hours, while the men outside were doing whatever they were doing, playing video games, and talking to Fara whenever she came into the bedroom to graze on her biscuits. A few times they would get up and sneak a glance out the front windows to see the vehicle these strange men had arrived in, and one time they saw the blue lettering down the side of a white van – plumbers. “God damnit,” Rebecca muttered under their breath, “I forgot they were coming.” Rebecca had planned to make their house a little less hostile to anyone that wasn’t them but had instead just completely forgotten about it. So instead of doing the normal, reasonable-brain thing and inviting the plumbers inside and simply apologising for the mess, Rebecca’s anxieties, practically all of them, spiked, and all they could do was hope and pray that the men outside would simply vanish soon, and then they could give the plumbers a call on Monday to sort it all out.
Several hours went by, until finally, they couldn’t take it anymore. They had to leave the house. The plumbers were still outside, but there was no sign of when they might leave. So, Rebecca got dressed, put on their Bluetooth headphones, and opened the front door. They stepped out and almost immediately ran directly into one of the plumbers. “We’ve been trying to-“ he started when Rebecca looked at him and blurted out “I’ve got covid!” Rebecca then promptly stormed off toward the street while the plumber stood there, not sure what to make of what just happened. Another plumber was coming around the corner, “Hey, are y-“ “Covid!” Rebecca shouted, without looking or slowing down. The second plumber also left dumbstruck, looked at the first one who looked to him and just shook his head, shrugging.
Rebecca did not, in fact, have covid. It was just the first thing their stressed brain could think of to say to get these strange men who were giving her so much anxiety. All of the anxiety. It wasn’t their best ad lib, but it did the trick.
The plumbers were, finally, gone when Rebecca got home again. They fumbled for the front door key in the dim glow of the sensor light, unlocked the door, and stepped through. Once inside, their cat Fara greeted them with a soft little meow, curled up on Rebecca’s warmest coat draped over a chair – if was Fara’s current favourite place to sleep. “Hewwo darling,” Rebecca smiled. Fara smiled back. “Awh you hungwy?” Rebecca asked, rhetorically, Fara was always hungry. At the sound of those words Fara stood slowly and stretched herself out. “Aww big stretch!” Rebecca gave Fara a little chin scratch and then went to the cupboard for the cat biscuits and wet food pouches. It had been a process, finding the exactly right food that Fara would consistently eat, but once Rebecca had finally figured it out, there was no way they would attempt to change it up. Fara was the fussiest little bitch they had ever met. But she was so pretty.
Rebecca didn’t know what kind of cat Fara was; likely just a mixed breed, a tabby, but she had the biggest, fattest, fuzziest little tail they had ever seen. It was like a raccoon’s tail; it was so bushy. And Fara’s fur was super soft. Fara had adopted Rebecca a few months after they moved into their current house. One day Fara just started showing up and watching Rebecca from the fence, so Rebecca decided to try feeding her. It wasn’t long before Fara started showing up nearly every day and expecting food, and then not long after that that she was showing up every day and staying over most nights. It was at that point that Rebecca had decided this cat probably needed a name. They settled on Fara Sherazi, the name of a character from a TV show they liked, and it took no time at all for Fara to begin recognising and responding to the name.
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I hope you liked this! This was an interesting excercise for me because even though I have been using they/them pronouns for coming up almost four years now, I’ve never tried to write a story with a central character who is non-binary against a cast of other characters with no names or real identities like this - I hope it wasn’t too confusing! I got a little confused myself when trying to decide if I should use a pronoun or just repeat my character name instead for clarity haha. This is definitely something I want to work on more though, and if you have any specific feedback about it I would love to hear from you!
Before I let you go, I want to let you all know that I have finished The Marvellous Mrs Maisel now and that piece I’ve been teasing about is almost ready - it will most likely be the drop for next Monday unless I finish it sooner, but it might surprise you to know that I’m leaning a little less hard on it as I was in the beginning. I’m still not happy, but I’m not going to be quite as mean as I originally intended.
And one last thing; I mentioned a little while back that I am planning on doing a bit of streaming on Twitch, and I am still working on that, but it’s taking a little longer than I’d have liked to get into a good routine because of some health problems. I haven’t forgotten! It’s just taking a bit longer. And speaking of things that are taking a bit longer: my Tabitha serial story is still on the way, but I think I was just a bit over ambitious about what I could potentially commit to - it’s coming, but it might not be until around the end of the year at this point, so I’m sorry if you are excited for that! You’ll just have to wait a wee while longer for that to start.
As always, thank you so much for reading! I really appreciate it. If you like what I do here, please consider telling a friend, or sharing a post you liked on social media! I don’t do advertising of any kind except yelling about it on my social medias when I remember, so for me to grow I need your help! Any comments, questions, suggestions, leave them in the comments or hit me up on the aforementioned socials (links at the bottom of the page)!
Have a great week everyone, I’ll talk to you again soon. Ka kite anō au i a koe. 💚
- Rebecca
Links | Twitter | Mastodon | Cohost | Substack | itch.io | Letterboxd | Instagram | Carrd | Email
#queer writers#trans writers#non binary writers#new zealand#aotearoawriters#writers of aotearoa#writers of new zealand#fiction#non fiction#creative writing#substack#mental health#mental illness#depression#anxiety#LGBTQIA+#LGBTQIA#writers of tumblr#cat
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hmm mc singing Barbie girl (you know I never noticed when younger but its quite sexual lol) and their reaction? if you're not up for all maybe luci, Satan and belphie?? 👀
Word Count: 2635
Author’s Note: I never noticed how suggestive it was when I was younger either, and even now just reading through the lyrics I connected a few dots I hadn’t before. I’m sorry this took so long, and I hope it’s enjoyable to read! Thank you for your request, Anon!
Lucifer
He had come to check on MC to see how their studies were doing. He respected that they insisted on doing their schoolwork on their own, but he still felt the need to check up on them, just in case. Too often did he find people slacking off.
He was just about to knock on their door when he heard MC’s voice reach his ears through the frame. “Make me walk, make me talk, do whatever you please, I can act like a Star, I can beg on my knees.”
It was a song he had never heard before, which wasn’t too surprising. He didn’t bother with anything...distasteful. He was a very picky listener. He gave himself a few moments to comprehend the lyrics. It sounded almost like a song Asmo would listen to.
He was taken aback, to be honest. The music itself was absolutely annoying, like some kind of glittery audio, but the lyrics coming out of MC’s mouth stirred something in him. He was a demon for sure, and he was no stranger to the more risque aspects of sin, but to hear such things coming out of their mouth drove him up the wall in more ways than one.
He opened the door without knocking, entering like a shadow. MC didn’t even have a pencil in their hand, dancing in their seat, their schoolwork the furthest thing from their mind.
“You can touch, you can play, if you say I’m always yours-”
MC felt a looming shadow behind them, their voice faltering as their heart fluttered. Lucifer’s hand reached around them, touching their D.D.D. to turn off the infernal melody with the taunting lyrics. MC looked up at him, the frame of his body blocking out the light in their room. He glared at them with red glinted eyes, a smirk tugging at the taut corners of his lips.
“That can easily be arranged.”
A dark shade of red covered MC’s cheeks as Lucifer shut their school book,his gloved hand tracing the spine of the book before doing the same thing to MC’s chin. They didn’t seem to be getting much studying done anyway, so further delaying them would do them no harm, besides, then he would have an excuse to be their strict tutor.
Lucifer is going to want to carry out those lyrics as punishment for MC saying such bold and tempting words in his presence.
Mammon
He had finally managed to get MC in his room to hang out, just the two of them. He had felt that his brothers were spending way too much time with them, and it was his turn to have his human. Lucifer had prevented both of them from going out since it was far too late and all of them had to get up far too early the next day.
To get around this conundrum, Mammon had a bottle of wine and demonus already chilled in his room. He’ll do his best to brush past the fact that he had stolen both of them from his older brother.
It didn’t take too long for both him and MC to get drunk, partying it up in his room much to his siblings annoyance. MC was pumping a bunch of human world music from his loudspeakers, and Mammon was secretly loving it. When Barbie Girl came on, he’ll admit he found it strange at first, his face burning as MC sang the lyrics to the song.
“Life in plastic, it’s fantastic, you can brush my hair, undress me anywhere.”
MC would look at him, glancing his body up and down to the words, almost like they were teasing him. His first reaction was to tell MC that they couldn’t just sing stuff like that. Someone would take it wrong, someone would...he didn’t want anyone else to hear those words but himself.
MC would convince him to sing the other part, begging and pleading with him. He eventually agreed, but only this once, and only because MC was the one who asked.
He’ll get surprisingly into it, and they’ll sing it again and again on repeat so much, they both would be capable of singing it in their sleep. MC would laugh anytime Mammon would purposefully lower his voice to a comical degree.
MC was almost torturing him, singing “If you say, I’m always yours”, dancing with their body moving way too close to his, their eyes painted with a sultry glow. He could only take it for so long before he turned the music off, causing MC to frown. Then he got in real close.
“Yes, you are mine.”
Levi
He had invited MC to a karaoke night, one of the few activities he’d do outside his room. It showed up in anime so often, and he would be able to sing his favorite songs as loud as he wanted without fear of bothering anyone. It was just him and MC, he didn’t want to risk the possibility that his brothers would ruin this already rare opportunity.
He sang some sort of anime opening, and he went hard, hitting notes that MC didn’t even know he could reach. It was beautiful. Levi thought nothing would be able to make this moment any better. Then MC retaliated with Barbie girl, and as soon as the first few lyrics left their lips, Levi went completely still. He was frozen, his concentration buffering.
“I’m a blonde bimbo girl in a fantasy world, dress me up, make it tight, I’m your dolly.”
They were purposefully teasing him, but he couldn’t do anything about it. MC had him completely red, his hands up to cover as much of his embarrassing face as he could. With his eyes still free to watch MC, of course. Sure he had probably heard and seen worse in anime, but he never said anything like that aloud, he had never...heard that aloud...by another person.
MC directed it all towards him, bouncing up and down on their feet as they sang, giving him flirtatious winks. If this were an anime, not only would he have had a severe nosebleed, but his soul might’ve just floated out from his body. Unfortunately for him, this wasn’t an anime. He was still frozen to his seat.
“You can touch, you can play.”
MC came on over to him and sat next to him, getting real close to him, tugging at the collar around his neck, playing with the stray hairs at the bottom of his head. He got so freaked out, he slipped out of his own seat and onto the floor, accidentally dragging MC along with him. MC almost couldn’t continue singing due to how much they wanted to laugh.
“If you say, I’m always yours.”
Right now it seemed as if MC had him as theirs instead of the other way around, with them on top of him on the floor, Levi feeling like he was literally melting. He wasn’t a huge fan of anything without some sort of connection to anime or video games, but he’d give this song a pass this one time.
Satan
While he can be a fan of some music, he typically likes silence, it makes things easier to read. But when MC asked if they could listen to some of their music while they studied together, he let them. He was curious about their tastes if anything. He took it as an opportunity to learn more about them, but he didn’t know that they were planning on testing his patience.
Their songs came up randomly, each one of them obnoxious noises. Satan knew immediately that the only reasoning to them was to see which one annoyed him most. MC tried hard to hide the smile on their face, but Satan’s expression left them highly amused.
He had just about had enough, ready to blow a fuse along with MC’s D.D.D. Then Barbie Girl came on. The breathy squeaky noises felt like they had taken a few centuries off his lifespan, but then MC started singing to it.
“You can brush my hair, undress me anywhere.”
He pressed his hand to his chest. This kind of song, these words, this behavior...was completely inappropriate. It’s what he wanted to say anyway, but anytime MC sang something else, he found himself speechless.
“Imagination, life is your creation.”
He ended up having to turn his head away from them, closing his eyes and doing his best to tune them out long enough to get his focus back, to get his logic back. He was ignoring the growing heat in his face.
He didn’t move until the song was done, and then he hastily took MC’s device from them, turning the music off and then insisting that they get stuff done. MC whined a little bit but obliged, having been mostly satisfied by his behavior.
The only thing was, now Satan was lost in his own mind and thoughts, unable to even comprehend what he was reading. MC would ask him a question, and he would find it difficult to even try to come up with a solid answer. He could only look into MC’s eyes and angrily shut all his books.
There would be no more studying tonight.
Asmo
Human world music or not, he knows this one by heart, and he loves it. It’s so playful and sexual, it’s exactly his thing. So, it was actually Asmo who had the song playing in the first place, much to MC’s surprise.
He had MC over for one of their self-care nights. He would do their nails, their hair, make sure their skin was nice and moisturized, and maybe they’d let him give them a deep massage. He had some of his music playing to set the mood. Some of his hype songs. When Barbie Girl came on, MC snapped their head up in surprise.
“You know this song?”
Asmo almost had to put down his polish, exasperated at the question. “Do I know this song?? Honey, I adore this song.”
He was the one who started singing, making his body sway and move as he gave MC flirtatious glances. MC shrugged, figuring the song was too catchy to not join in with. Asmo had never been so excited, he wanted to shout, maybe post it on Devilgram.
“Kiss me here, touch me there, hanky panky.”
He’s heard people talk dirty before, trust him, he’s just never heard MC talk like that before. Even if they were just singing goofy lyrics of a song, he had always wondered what it would be like for them to say such things. Only now, now that Asmo had finally had a little taste of what he wanted, he couldn’t handle it.
He had been doing his nails, but now his entire finger had nail polish over it. The air in his lungs was suddenly absent. He felt like breaking the bottle in his hands, so he quickly put it down.
“You can touch, you can play, if you say-”
MC had been interrupted by Asmo almost body slamming them against his bed. They stammered and sputtered for words as Asmo whined and almost cried for them to stop giving him false excitement, he wouldn’t be able to take it.
MC, maybe slightly influenced by the song, the mood the demon of Lust had set, and maybe some alcohol, told Asmo that maybe they wouldn’t mind if it were him.
Screw his nails, he had more important things to do right now.
Beel
MC swore the only reason why Beel even knew what flirting meant was because he had Asmo for a brother. He didn’t really take any steps himself to be promiscuous, and if he ended up doing something...spicy, he didn’t really mean to.
So when he came into the kitchen to check on MC while they were on cooking duty, he wasn’t sure how to feel. At first, he was just so happy to hear MC sing, if they were happy, it meant the food they were making would taste ten times better. Somehow he knew how someone was feeling based on the food they made.
Then his second reaction was towards the actual words they were singing. It made his stomach feel kind of full, even though he hadn’t eaten anything for a few minutes. MC was looking pretty tasty...
Then he shook his head to himself, shooing away those kinds of thoughts. It was just a song, nothing to get so worked up over for. He wasn’t like Asmo. Or his other brothers apparently.
MC will admit they were a bit disappointed when Beel started rummaging through the kitchen for a few pre-dinner snacks, ignoring the song. They expected a bit more of a response. MC loved trying to get a jolt out of the demon brothers, but Beel was Beel.
The demon of gluttony just kept them company while they cooked, none of the lyrics setting him off. He just happily munched on some crackers. Beel told MC they had a lovely voice, and while he wasn’t a huge fan of the song, he respected their taste in music.
He was almost too pure sometimes.
Belphie
He had been asleep for much too long, and in such a deep sleep, nothing seemed to be able to wake him up. Each of the brothers had tried and subsequently failed. They had given up on him, even Beel who went off in some search for food after his attempts left him starved. Only MC remained, and they tried the first thing that came to their mind.
For some reason their idea had been playing Barbie Girl and singing it to him in the most ridiculous way possible. They turned the song up on their D.D.D. at full volume and started dancing and singing on his bed while he remained fast asleep.
“Come on Barbie, let’s go party, ah ah ah yeah.”
With each little ‘ah’ and ‘oo’ that came out of their mouth, they poked Belphie’s body. Still nothing. If MC wasn’t able to see his chest moving and the air from his nose pushing the hair covering his face, they would’ve been convinced he was dead.
Except the fact was, he was awake, wide awake in fact, he was just pretending to be asleep. MC’s voice had both the power to snap him awake or lull him to sleep. Right now he was doing his best to stay still as they continued.
Yes, he kinda wanted to kill them for waking him up. Yes, the song was driving him absolutely crazy in the worst way. But also, MC kept touching him and saying things he had never heard them say before. The breath against his pillow was getting warmer, his nerves feeling jittery.
When they finished, MC was a bit disappointed to find Belphie still ‘asleep’, their plan had failed. They turned the music off and missed Belphie’s immense sigh of relief. They went to move off his bed, but he snapped to attention to grab their ankles. In a blur of movement, Belphie had them pinned down on his bed.
He had planned on just falling back asleep on top of them, but their expression...now he was awake, restless, and left with only one way he would be satisfied enough to sleep.
Bonus: Each and every one of the demon brothers has had this infernal song stuck in their head for literal days. A few of them don’t quite mind, and for the rest of them, they wonder if they’ve been subjected to some sort of torture. Lucifer has banned the song for eternity, and each of his siblings, with himself included, has some sort of demand for MC to fulfill as payment.
#obey me#obey me shall we date#obey me headcanons#obey me imagines#obey me lucifer#obey me mammon#obey me levi#obey me satan#obey me asmo#obey me beel#obey me belphie
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so. this is my attempt at posting a 20k-word-long g/t frenrey RP that kogo and i were doing at the start of this year. its not finished and im not sure when were gonna pick it back up, since we are currently working on co-op game theory instead of a filthy RP that takes place like 100k words down the line of co-op game theory. but ive been sitting on it long enough so here u go
i never really planned on posting this anywhere so its really self-indulgent and not as polished as our usual stuff but look. this is a ludicrous amount of erotica im dropping here. cut me a lil slack
anyway, here it is: Gordon Gets A Xen Bath
Gordon tries to keep moving, but eventually his pace slows to a stop, his legs growing heavier and heavier until he can't bring himself to lift them.
"Okay. Okay," he pants, bending over and bracing his hands on his knees. "I can't fucking do this anymore, man! I'm tapped out! We've been walking all day - or, well, I have, I don't know about you. We can't... can't all be alien god fuckers, floating around or whatever." He pauses to catch his breath. Every muscle in his body aches from the strain of hopping around Xen in the HEV suit. Sure, gravity doesn't have quite as strong a hold here as it did back on Earth, and that makes all that metal easier to lug around, but it seems like time doesn't work the same way, either. Gordon can't tell how long it's been. Feels like days.
Smells like it, too, now that he's got a moment to breathe. He's covered in dirt and slime and congealed alien blood and God know what else. In short, he needs a fucking break. And Gordon aggressively takes one right then and there, dropping to his feet. What's the rush, anyway? "Like we're ever gonna find out way out of this fucking place," he mutters.
> Benrey watches as Gordon collapses, a pile of metal and smells. Odors. Sweat and dirt and tangled hair. His head tilts to the side but his expression remains flat as he lifts his head and gazes out into the vastness of Xen, before turning back to Gordon and furrowing his brow. They hadn't even gotten far, not really, so it doesn't really make sense that he'd just crumple like this.
> He sniffs, shuffling in a circle on his feet as Gordon bitches behind him--something about never escaping Xen, as if Benrey hadn't traveled from one end to the other to find him in the first place--and chews his lip in deep concentration, trying to think of literally anything that would maybe make the guy stop. Stop with the, uh, whining and whinging and "blah blah, we're not all alien god fuckers" or whatever.
> (Though, well, technically, Gordon was an alien god fucker anymore. Their time back with the space maggots and the gun bugs and that skinny doppelganger had seen them in a couple of situations where Gordon happily fucked an "alien god.")
> But. Wait. No. Mind wandering. Wandering to fun places, places more fun than being lost in Xen (though he's not lost; they'll find their way out eventually), but not anywhere useful. And, for once, he has to think along those boring terms. Being, you know, reliable or whatever.
> What matters is making Gordon go. The hamster wheel in his head turns and turns until the rodent is slung clear off and, with a slow blink, Benrey accepts defeat. Ideas are not his forte when he's actually trying to be helpful. He turns to his human, he tilts his head in the other direction, and he waits for his human to look up at him. Then, he speaks without even waiting for eye contact.
> "So, uh... what can best friend Benrey do to... make you. I dunno. Less dumb?"
> Nailed it. Benrey is getting good at this "empathy" thing.
Gordon drags his gaze up from the ground to Benrey, and immediately scrunches his eyebrows up. "Wow, that was almost nice of you," he says, a touch of genuine surprise in his voice. It doesn't outweigh the disdain, though. "You know what? Just don't do anything. The best thing you can do right now is to stand right there and do absolutely nothing... and let me just... catch my breath."
He hopes against hope that, for once, Benrey will do what he says. Despite all the evidence that suggests otherwise. His internal monologue turns a bit haggard. Well, it's not like there's anything he could do about it, anyway. Even if he was fit as a fiddle, if Benrey wanted to fuck off and get lost, there was no stopping him.
He can't hold Benrey's stare for long, though. It's-- it's always harder to look him right in the eye like this. Something about the size of him makes it uncomfortable, like he's staring right through Gordon. So he darts his eyes away, scanning his surroundings. The perils of an alien landscape: all the little islands and chunks of earth start to look the same after awhile. Rocks and strange, angry plants and pools of mysterious fluids. He's seen it all. There's a number of all these things and more around him, but the one thing he finds himself wishing for is something to eat. You can't trust anything out here.
"I just want a burger, man," Gordon groans. "Sick of jumping around like I'm playing some kind of platformer. You know, they never tell you how exhausting this shit is! My heart's-- my heart's racing-- like, adrenaline? Hate fucking jumping over these big-ass pits, I'm tellin' you."
Or, failing that, like, a nap. Or a bath. He vocalizes both of these things before burying his head in his hands. Maybe he could get one of those microsleeps going. If he can just calm the fuck down, anyway.
> Food? Nap? Bath?
> Benrey's mouth curls into a jagged smile. Of course Gordon would just need some of that weird, seemingly pointless human stuff. You would think after two grand adventures of dragging this sad sack around and listening to him complain every two meters, he'd have picked up on the human necessities. Things like 'burger" and "bed time" and "smelling like preferred smells, and not the natural smells that are apparently 'bad.'"
> A huge sigh heaves out of Benrey and he watches in amusement as it makes Gordon's hair puff out of his face. Small little tiny man, curled up on a chunk of rock, not able to embiggen and make things easier. It's sad and pathetic, almost as sad and pathetic as Gordon looks, but Benrey knows he's capable of being a good enough guy for the both of them. A real bro. A best friend.
> Because he knows Xen inside and out for some reason. And he's observant. He's seen things and can do the mental math necessary to figure out how to problem solve, sort of. He's spent enough time floating around Xen to figure out what those sparkly puddles do, and he's seen enough of those people back in the Wrong World eat the not-Lamarrs (or, at least the Vorti-bros did, which were close enough).
> And, well, Gordon could literally sleep anywhere. There was dirt for days, lots of rocks to align the spine. Fun nap places. Good for Gordon.
> With a burst of pride and dagger-toothed grin, Benrey propped his elbow on the island where Gordon was whining and held out his hand, palm up and flat, extended as an open invitation.
> "Oh. Uh. That it? That's, uh... that's a cool I can do. Big cool for you."
He stares, eyes narrowed in confusion. "What? What do you mean, that's a-- What are you doing?"
> "I'm doing a cool," Benrey responds. Though his voice is still fairly flat, there is a bite to it, hidden almost completely under his monotone. As if to emphasize the point, he lifts his hand and slaps it back down into the earth once more in a way he thought was light. Judging from the way the ground shook and the island rocked, perhaps not as light as he'd imagined.
> "Gonna, uh... help. Or somethin'. You gettin' on or you gonna be a babyman about it?"
Gordon yelps as the ground shakes around him, even though he's (relatively) safe on the ground. "Jesus, Benrey! Watch it!"
What the hell is he doing? His eyes dart between Benrey's hand and face as the gears struggle to turn. It's been a long fucking day, all right, and Benrey's... Benrey-isms are hard enough to understand at the best of times. This is supposed to help, somehow. So, scratch the burger. And the nap, too, probably. So, does that mean he wants to--
No. That's stupid. He's stupid for thinking it. Gordon steadfastly ignores the way his ears prickle and shakes his head, like a dog ridding itself of water.
"Please tell me you're gonna just carry me the rest of the way," Gordon sighs. It's a visible effort for him to get back to his feet. "Hey, actually, why didn't you just do that from the get-go? You're not even breaking a sweat!"
He complains, sure, but it doesn't stop him from dizzily shuffling forward and stepping on. Better late than never. He'll have plenty of time to chew Benrey out for this once he's out of this alien hellscape and back in his own goddamn bed.
> Benrey blinks.
> Oh. Yeah. He probably could have carried Gordon, huh? The thought never really occurred to him at first because, well, why would it? Was he a bad guy--a bad friend--for believing that his bestest buddy was a capable man? Color him insensitive for actually expecting things of Gordon, but he'd just watched the guy win Space Invaders in real life.
> After that, traipsing through Xen should have been a walk in the park.
> Best not to point that out, though. Gordon may take offense and, for once in his life, he isn't out to make him mad. He's trying to be good, trying to carry that camaraderie they built from Shit World Without Sony Products back to Good World With Heavenly Sword. Highlighting Gordon's stupid human failings would only work to reset the karma he'd worked so hard to build up in their social link. Or, you know, however humans fucking worked.
> Instead, he lets Gordon crawl onto his hand and then turns away, wracking his mind for the last place he saw a good puddle. After all, it made sense to start with a bath, right? Eating while gross would make Gordon complain, and sleeping while gross wouldn't be much better. Drifting past island after island, his head swivels to see if maybe there are some good candidates going forward.
> And there's... really not. Testicle stalks. Pointy rocks. Less pointy rocks. Tit-on-stilts that is aggressively spitting little Lamarrs over the edge of a rock chunk that looks like Swiss cheese. Benrey isn't sure what it's hoping to accomplish, but it's sure as fuck not accomplishing it.
> Then, he sees it, in the distance: A glittering pool of blue that sparks like electricity and glitters like cheap body mist. A strange smell, not unlike Sweet Voice, wafts from its direction. It's certainly one of the Good Smells Humans Like. Gordon will love it.
> Wordlessly, he glides toward it. Gordon's smart. He'll know what he's getting at.
Benrey's not saying anything, which is mildly concerning, but he is looking around like he knows what he's looking for. And when Benrey fucks off, Gordon in tow - held in a grip that's a little looser than he likes - Gordon lets his brain wind down for the first time in... a long while. Flying around Xen like this is nervewracking, yeah, but in a way he's more equipped to handle. Benrey's chest at his back helps. It's solid as a wall and deceptively warm, and if he keeps himself pressed flat against it, he can almost forget about these bottomless pits they're flying over.
He lets Benrey go like that for an indeterminable amount of time. (He may have dozed off a little.) But Gordon comes back to himself once Benrey's velocity changes. Gets a bit more pointed. Eventually, Gordon puzzles out that he's heading for one island in particular, one with a shimmering pool on its surface. Not exactly what the endgame was.
Wait. Gordon's brain chugs. He was looking for... some kind of water? Oh, Christ.
"Wait, were you being serious about the bath thing?" he asks as they approach. "I-- I wasn't being that serious about it! Getting out of here kind of seems like the more important thing!"
> "Huh?"
> The word falls off of Benrey's lips despite the fact he actually heard everything Gordon said. He heard him and even registered him, but he just didn't get him. After all, he's fairly certain that Gordon wants a bath considering it was one of the big things that spewed out of his mouth when he was being all needlessly fussy before, so why isn't he just saying it? Owning up to it?
> Was it because it was a detour? Slowing them down? Or was it just Gordon being whatever-the-hell-Gordon-was?
> Yeah, that had to be it. Gordon just doesn't want to get side-tracked. That's fair, he supposes. Or, at the very least, he assumes that's what a human would consider fair, considering how obsessed with "time" and "schedules" and "fast" they all were.
> "Real quick dip," Benrey promises, hoping to put Gordon's mind at ease; it was a far cry from what he typically did, so he could only hope it landed properly, that he was saying the right things and had the right inflections. "Real fast. Get'cha all nice. Wet. Uh. Soaps and hygiene. You know."
"Oh my God, man, it's gonna be a whole fuckin' production!" Gordon agonizes as Benrey brings them to that strange, glittering watering hole. "Saving the world's kinda time-sensitive, you know? And it's always such a hassle getting in and out of this thing! And-- Okay, hold on, you actually want to-- Okay. Fine. Look, I'm just saying, this is weird even for you, Benrey!"
Soaps. Hygiene. You know. Letting his best frenemy peel him out of his suit so he can scrub him clean, like normal people do. A shiver runs down the back of Gordon's neck. There's gotta be some kind of catch, but honestly, he's having a hard enough time keeping up with events as they're written. If there's some kind of malicious subtext to this whole thing, well, that's not his problem. He's got more important things to worry about, like convincing Benrey that it would be a little more prudent to just keep forging on rather than waste valuable time on a bath.
...Unfortunately, he's close enough to smell whatever it is that wafts off the surface in waves, and it makes Gordon's resolve waver. It's a clean smell, warm and vaguely fruity, with an undercurrent of salinity. Like a shower that's just been used, almost. God, he'd really like that, wouldn't he.
> The words don't really have weight to them anymore. If Benrey had a nickel for every time Gordon called him "weird" or told him he was endangering the world by taking detours, he'd have enough nickels to melt them down and make a big-ass nickel. And, judging from the way even Gordon's mouth wasn't running anymore, it didn't seem like Gordon had put any weight into his own words, either.
> Which was good. Real good. It meant Benrey was doing a nice job of not pressing every one of Gordon's buttons like a kid in an elevator, and being a proper friend. Best friend. More than friend? God, he fucking wished.
> And he'd shut up right in the nick of time, too, because the urge to tease is building up inside of Benrey like pressure in a flaming aerosol can. It's hard not to want to pick at him when Gordon is griping like this, just goading him on with his (strangely cute) bullshit. Benrey mentally pats himself on the back for a job well done as he glides to the edge of the island and leans carefully over the tiny expanse of mottled dirt and glittering water.
> "S'fine. You're fine. S'gonna be fine. Just cleanin' you up, makin' you pretty. Like a good friend. Best friend."
> The water bubbles against the back of his hand as he extends it, dangling Gordon over the surface so he can get a good look at it himself. Maybe, with the proper viewing, he'll realize that this will be a pleasant time all around. Good for him. Fun for Benrey. Bonding experience.
> "Gonna make you, uh, real shiny. Polished. A, ah, regular... Casa... Casa del Nova."
> With that, he hooks a nail under one of the thigh pieces of the HEV suit and waits, eyes resting on Gordon's face in search of approval. Approval he selfishly hopes comes quick, before reflex takes over and he pops it off regardless.
Gordon peers over the edge of Benrey's hand to look down at the water, where it lies placid and clear and a vivid blue-green. Mysterious bubbles aside. It's... it's like one of those pools at Yellowstone, he thinks dizzily. They look so warm and inviting and then you step in and suddenly your flesh is deciding to melt right off of you. Gordon's stomach swoops unpleasantly.
Then Benrey offhandedly mentions making him pretty, as if he were just trying to sell Gordon on a new restaurant, and it swoops for an entirely different reason. An irritating reason.
"Don't just fucking say things like that," he says hotly, his voice pitching up and cracking from nerves.
But it becomes an afterthought in short order when Gordon feels Benrey's nail tugging at his HEV suit, and he realizes that Benrey's very, very serious about this. Especially when he fixes Gordon with that intent stare. Like he's waiting for something. Permission? It must be, since he's not making any moves to pop off the armor on his thigh. Gordon looks down at Benrey's finger, chipped black paint peeking out from the corners, then back up at Benrey.
Oh, fuck this. He hates when Benrey does this. It's one of those mind games, or something. Make Gordon be the one to make the call, like it's a game of chicken and Benrey's trying to get him to lose. Instead of, you know, not derailing his entire fucking journey in the first place with the suggestion of a bath. One where, well, it does smell really nice. And he can feel the ambient heat from the water from his perch on Benrey's palm. And Benrey's offering to pry him out of his suit and, presumably, do the washing for him. So Gordon doesn't have to move a muscle. Or even think about it.
His face twists and turns its way through a melange of emotions before he decides, fuck it. Even if this is weird, and Benrey's probably playing some kind of 4-dimensional chess, his mind's already sold itself on the idea. So Gordon's tongue darts out to wet his lips, mouth unexpectedly dry.
"I-- Okay-- You know what, fine. We're already here. Just... no, fucking, tricks or jokes or whatever, man. If you leave me on some fucking rock with my dick out, I'm going to kill you," Gordon tells Benrey.
> What Benrey wants to say is that Gordon is being a baby. A bitch, even. There's no reason for him to get all flustered and pissy when they've already done so many things together. Things that only the closest of bros do, like take down a hostile invading force and push their dicks together and make out. But instead, Benrey takes a deep and steady breath as he works his nails deeper under the chassis of the HEV suit and tugs up with a satisfying click as the latches come undone and the thigh piece flops uselessly off of Gordon.
> "Cool."
> He moves onto the next section, eyes narrowing and eyebrows knitting above his nose as he looks down at Gordon and tries to focus. Head empty, aside from trying to figure out how in the hell he's actually supposed to undo all the delicate bits with fingers as big as his human. It was easier when he was small, and he supposes he could be small again, but that would be no fun. Perhaps he could just rip it off of Gordon with his teeth like the top of a sardine can, but it would be even less fun to deal with the little guy yelling at him for hours.
> Getting Gordon's goat was fun and all, but god, did the guy know how to harp on a subject like no other person he'd ever met.
> Instead, Benrey's tongue pokes out between his fangs as he presses the tip of his finger against the inside of Gordon's other thigh and lets his fingernail search for the seam, the latch. He cocks his head like an owl and leans down close enough that Gordon could touch his face, heaving out a huge and uncharacteristically irritated breath. From here, he can smell the musky odor of sweat and dirt and grime and alien goo, and it's strangely nice. Earthy. Very Gordon.
> He'd smelled it before, when he wasn't quite this big, when Gordon was unzipping his suit and climbing into his lap and drool pools at the corner of Benrey's mouth, equal parts saliva and lusty Sweet Voice and--
> Click.
> The other piece of thigh armor falls away. The noise shakes Benrey to his senses.
> "Turn please," he orders mindlessly. His voice is a bit more husky and demanding than it had been a moment before.
Gordon watches as Benrey pops off his armor like it's nothing, like Gordon hasn't spent hours fruitlessly trying to do the same himself. It would have saved him the constant indignity of relying on Benrey to get him in and out of the fucking thing. He tries really hard not to think about the indignity of this, too - Benrey's face so close to his, a hot, irritable breath fanning over him, and fingers at his--
Oh. Gordon jumps a little at the insistent press of a fingertip against his inner thigh, and heat rushes to his face. This part's mildly embarrassing at the best of times, when Benrey's smaller and more human-sized, but now? With fingers much too big for the job? Spreading his legs apart where he sits, rubbing insistently against his inner thigh... He can't help the shaky breath that forces its way out of him.
Jesus Christ, his hands are big, Gordon thinks, mind racing. Sure, yes, he's had this thought before, when Benrey was using them to slap gunships out of the air, but it's a little more pointed when they're prodding him like this. He tenses. Not entertaining these thoughts today, thank you. The whole point of this, presumably, was for a normal, ordinary bath. In a pool of mysterious alien water. With his rival stripping him down and scrubbing him. While he's so big that he could squish Gordon like a bug, if he wanted... or pick Gordon up and maneuver him around, broad fingers all over him, sizing him up. If he wanted.
He comes back to himself when he hears a command. Turn please. Quick and insistent. Gordon's eyes jerk away from where they'd been staring at Benrey's finger.
"Turn? Like, fucking-- God, ow--" Gordon hisses through his teeth as the motion twists one of his aching muscles the wrong way. "I don't even know why I'm doing this. It's not like this was stopping you... You know, I'm starting to think you just like bossing people around for no fucking reason." Despite his bitching, he does as he's told.
> Maybe he does like it. The bossing, that is. Benrey isn't sure. It's one of the few human things he knows--his job back at Black Mesa--and it's one of those things he's good at. Usually. At least now he feels good at it, with Gordon actually listening to him.
> He watches as Gordon turns, head shifting to tilt in the other direction, watching as his human trustingly turns his back to him and displays himself in a way that makes more Sweet Voice seep from between his teeth. He sniffs, he uses the back of his free hand to wipe away a trickle of fluorescent fluid trailing from his lips, and quickly wipes his hands off on his pants. His eyes never leaves Gordon's back.
> Lower back.
> His ass.
> Benrey had told him before that it was a nice one, and it was still true... uh, even if he can't really see it with Gordon sitting and all. He can imagine it in its entirety, though, nice and small, even as he fumbles with the latches on the back of the chest piece. He hardly notices as he clicks it open and the front hits the pad of his palm with an audible slap of metal against skin. He reaches around to pluck it away, the side of his hand brushing against Gordon's front.
> Gordon's heaving chest. His soft midsection. His...
> Benrey shakes his head as if snapping himself out of a trance. An involuntary laugh snorts out of his nose as he leans down, peeking over Gordon's shoulder like a creeping dragon, breath hot against the back of Gordon's neck.
> "Cute."
> And with that, he grabs the next part of Gordon: his arm, raising it up effortlessly like a doll's and carefully searching for the next latch.
Maybe facing away from Benrey wasn't the smartest idea, in retrospect. It feels like he's closer, somehow, his breath coming hotter and faster against Gordon's back. Benrey breathing down his neck should be, like, gross. Creepy. Gordon knows by now that Benrey likes to make a big deal about keeping them clean, but it's not like he knows when Benrey brushed last. It shouldn't smell... like that. Sweet. A distinct chemical note on the underside. Like ketones on his breath, but nothing that Gordon can place for certain.
Sweet Voice, probably. It's muted and subtle. He's not belting it out like he usually does, so Gordon can only guess what Benrey's feeling. Unfortunately, he's all too aware of what he's feeling: goosebumps, pebbling his skin from the neck down. A little frisson. They crawl all the way down his arms and make him shiver. He can practically feel Benrey's eyes on him, too, all up close and personal. Don't break a sweat, he wills himself, because he knows Benrey's watching him like a hawk.
It doesn't stop a bead from pooling at the back of his hairline, then losing the fight against gravity and slowly trickling down his neck.
Benrey snorts, and Gordon flinches, cursing under his breath. He couldn't even have that, huh. Then Benrey has the audacity to call him cute. And that makes his blood pulse, briefly flashing his skin with heat, before receding just as quickly and leaving a chill in its wake.
"Wh-- Whoa, okay," Gordon starts. His indignant response is temporarily cut off by Benrey lifting his arm between a thumb and forefinger. He offers about as much resistance as a fucking action figure, even creaking a little for good measure, and it's distracting, okay?
After a few moments, though, he regains his bearings. "Shut up, man," he says, flustered. "I'm not even-- Just-- Quit being weird, okay?"
Because, frankly, this is weird. He's not used to Benrey being so... accommodating. Helpful. Nice. And he doesn't know what Benrey's endgame is, here. So it just leaves Gordon feeling off-kilter. Uncertain. A little hot in the face.
> Benrey's eyes flick up like a lizard that's spotted its next meal when he hears Gordon's words, conveniently at the same time as he finds the latch with his nail. The armor on his upper arm falls away with a clonk and his fingers move down to the much-easier-to-remove gloves and wrist pieces, which come undone with a light twist and an even lighter yank. But his gaze isn't even looking at what he's doing, instead resting on the back of Gordon's hair, now wet with sweat and the dampness of his own breath.
> His skin is raised up in little bumps, and so are his hackles. Something bright and violet and base, fluorescent, builds at the back of Benrey's tongue, and he swallows it down. He has to focus, keep his composure. Get the other arm with a few quick clicks, fingers now more adventurous than they were before. The pads trail across Gordon's back, the undersuit bunching with his touch, pressing into his side for no reason other than the urge to feel. Then, when the second arm is freed, he remembers he forgot the boots.
> "Not being weird," Benrey protests as he wrangles Gordon in his grip, sighing heavily as he pinches him lightly in his grasp and rolls him in his hand like some kind of trinket. Until they're face to face once again and Gordon is flat on his back in his palm. He takes a moment to idly scratch his chin before reaching for the metal encasing his lower legs and feet.
> "Not weird to, uh, help a bro out. Be a friend. Friends call friends cute. All the time. Every day. S'pre... pre-requi... prere..." He pauses and stills and, then, with unwarranted confidence, forces the word out and continues fiddling. "It's pre-registered to, uh, do that. Yeah."
Blunt fingers at his arm, his back, his sides, prodding and rolling him around - each investigatory touch makes Gordon cognizant of just how much he's holding his breath. Until Benrey manhandles him into laying flat on his back, that is. A startled noise bursts out of him, and then Gordon's looking straight up at Benrey, with nowhere to go to escape him. Even without a hand pinning him down, he can't help but feel like he's stuck in place, anyway.
At least Gordon can sit up on his elbows a little. Less like he's some kind of specimen that way. And he lets Benrey fiddle with the boots, the strange feeling that curls in his stomach easing up on him the longer Benrey messes with something other than his soft, fleshy, vulnerable bits. He lets out a shaky breath of... relief. Let's go with that.
"IIII don't know about that," he says. "I'll be real with you, I'm not the kind of guy who does that... Uh. Well. Except there was that one time in high school? But it kind of weirded her out and she stopped talking to me."
Gordon pauses for a moment, brows wrinkling in thought. Then he shakes himself. "Anyway, that's not even the point. The point is," Gordon emphasizes, feeling like he's trying to present a convincing legal argument to a judge with all the size and breadth of (and possibly, the powers of) some ancient Greek god, "I think you have a, uh, tenuous grasp of what friendship entails, buddy. My friends don't call me cute."
As an afterthought, under his breath, he adds, "Nobody calls me cute." It comes out more bitter than he expects.
> The boots come off, one after another. The shin guards, too. Politely, Benrey scoops up all the miscellaneous pieces piled in his palm between his free fingers and puts them to rest next to the pool of... well, "water." Liquid. Something, though he's hard pressed to tell you exactly what it is. "The Bath."
> He listens as he does so, to Gordon squawking and muttering and saying, well, things. Things that he's not really listening to as he brings his hands back up to Gordon and tries to figure out where the zipper to the bodysuit is. Technically, he knows where it is, but his fingers are huge and the zippy-uppy part is so small, and he's prodding and poking with gentle strokes along Gordon's chest and belly where he saw the seam once-upon-a-time. He feels his nail click against the metal and it's... uh, well, it's aggravating.
> And Benrey isn't used to this kind of aggravation. Fuck's sake, he just wants to see some dic... ah. He just wants to help his best friend get a nice bath and feel better. Because he is a good guy who does good things like kill gun bugs for tiny dudes who can't shoot straight and not drive off with vehicles when Gordon leaves him alone. He's a good guy who doesn't want to be bad and--
> "Uh," he drawls, his mouth moving before he can really catch himself, "fuckin'... maybe people would call you cute if you, uh, weren't such a, uh, mean. So mean about it. Mean to me, just trying to say nices. To my best friend. Being such a good and a cool."
> His voice dies as he misses the zipper again. Fuck. When he speaks again, it darkens.
> "Please unzip suit? Please? Thank-you."
Soon enough Benrey's got him down to that reinforced bodysuit, the last piece of armor sliding off his hand with little resistance. Usually, this is where this process stops: Benrey gets him out of the armor, and Gordon fucks off and does whatever it is he needs to do. Change. Wash up. Sleep. The part where Benrey starts tugging at the fabric in search of the zipper? That's new. And it catches Gordon so unawares that he can't even speak.
That fingertip strokes him, almost, warm even through the black fabric, and a harsh breath whistles through Gordon's nose. It feels him up from his chest to his belly, a warm and insistent pressure. All the words in Gordon's brain get trapped in a mental sieve. In their place is a single, repeating thought:
Oh, God.
Benrey keeps trying, again and again, fingernails scraping uselessly against Gordon's belly. And his eyebrows furrow harder with the effort, frustration evident in his frown. And his fingers. Their grasping grows rough and imprecise and Gordon's trying so hard to bite his lip because there's an ugly noise threatening to punch his way out of him and Benrey's saying something to him that he can barely focus on and then finally, finally, he's giving up and pulling away. Christ.
It takes a moment for his mental fog to clear and for Benrey's words to sink in. Unzip? Himself? Oh, no. Somehow that's worse.
"Can you, like... give me some privacy, maybe?" Gordon complains.
He immediately feels stupid afterward. It trickles down from his scalp like something cold and slimy. So he clears his throat, and admits, begrudging, "I, uh... I'm not trying to be mean. It's been a long fucking day, okay? You're... uh... Well. Thanks. I guess. For trying to be nice."
There's a beat before the silence gets to be too uncomfortable, and Gordon hurriedly follows it up by saying, "Don't take this the wrong way. I think you could still use a few pointers on being 'nice' to 'humans', you know."
> "Wha?"
> In a second, the irritation is gone. Benrey's expression turns flat. He leans in close to Gordon and inhales deeply (yup, still smells like Gordon) and exhales just as hard.
> "I'm nice," he defends, eyes flicking down the pile of HEV parts on the island. "Fuckin', ah, Mother Tuh-ree-sah. You're the one who is bein'--"
> A pause. Nice. He was being nice, and he wasn't going to pick at Gordon. He wasn't going to point out that he was the one being snippy, while he was out here undressing him, and carrying him around, and getting ready to give him a bath, and maybe touch his--
> Wait.
> "Privacy?"
> The word tastes bad, real bad. The kind of bad that makes Benrey want to scrape his tongue off on his teeth. That isn't how they'd played these games before. Is this even still a game, though? Did "nice" contradict "games" too much? He isn't sure and he doesn't even give himself a chance to think about it as he nudges Gordon encouragingly with a finger and the words just start rolling out of his mouth.
> "No? No place to private at, bro. Maybe gonna have to just, ah, suck it up, friend. Besides--"
> Benrey leans forward on the island on his elbow, chin resting in his hand. As his body tilts, Gordon raises higher up due to his shifting of positions.
> "Can't, ah, can't not look. Dinosaurs and, uh, zombies out here. Ghosts. Gotta keep my eye on you. Safe-tee."
Safety. Right. As much as Gordon doesn't want to admit it, Benrey has a point. He's... vulnerable like this. And it would be just his luck that he gets beset by a peeper puppy with his dick hanging out. More to the point, he knows that it's stupid to develop a sense of modesty all of a sudden when Benrey's seen his dick before. It's just, you know, the size. The scrutiny.
Heat lodges itself in Gordon's face and makes a home there as Benrey brings him all the closer. As if to see him better. "Dinosaurs and zombies," he snorts. He can't believe that's the justification Benrey's giving him. And he can't believe he's buying it.
"Just... fucking, okay. Don't stare, at least," Gordon tells him, as if it will help.
The zipper's nestled in the seam at his neck, right in the center. Gordon fishes it out with shaky fingers. And then, slowly, he drags it down his front.
As he does, his flesh starts to spill from the suit in a creamy sliver. He's paler underneath, skin shielded from the sun for so long that his characteristic tan has all but faded. Consequences of running around in a HEV suit in the middle of Bulgaria. The rattle of the zipper rings in Gordon's ears, louder than life. First his chest, then his stomach, prickling with goosebumps in turn as they're revealed.
Finally, he pulls it down to its endpoint, just under his navel. Gordon's face burns with embarrassment.
> That... was easier than Benrey anticipated. Usually there's more resistance or, you know, playing involved whenever he asked Gordon to do something like that. Usually he had something a little more snide to say. Something in the air has changed, though, and he dimly wonders if maybe all of that advice he'd taken from the Resistors (Resistance? Transistors? Alyx, basically) has actually paid off.
> Learning how to human does, in fact, make interacting with Gordon easier.
> His pupils widen as he stares, mouth slightly agape, as more and more of Gordon's skin is revealed to him, a pretty porcelain color that looks incredibly soft and as delicate as a china doll. Usually he's darker, tanner; Benrey didn't know humans could change colors like that, but it's an interesting development and one that requires further investigation.
> So he leans closer, head tilted, watching the zipper come undone. Curiosity grips him as he gingerly reaches up and hooks his nails into the open edges of the suit and tugs, enough to jostle Gordon and peel away the wrapper but not enough to actually knock Gordon off his feet. As he does so, he ignores the sounds of protests, mouth opening wider and lifting in a sharkish grin.
> He's so pale now, but he's just as soft as Benrey remembers. Just as warm. Hair's still in all the right places, muscles in his arms growing visible as Benrey tugs the sleeves down, then the rest, leaving the top half of the bodysuit dangling from around his still-covered waist.
> He waits a moment, drinking in the sight. He could almost see his--
> No. No. No dick thinking, not now. No. He wasn't going to say anything because he was seriously just trying to be nice. And make Gordon shut up. And...
> And...
> "Cute."
> The word comes out while his brain is still arguing with himself. For a moment, he considers apologizing, or trying to pretend he never said it, but ultimately decides to stand by what he said.
> His eyes lift to rest on Gordon's face as he silently doubles down, waiting for a reply.
"Hey, careful," Gordon yelps, caught off-guard by fingers at the edges of his open suit. "You don't have to fucking-- Benrey, I can do this myself!" But there's no fighting him off before Benrey's tugging it down his shoulders, baring him from the waist up.
Impatient. That's the word that comes to mind. Benrey's itching to get him out of this thing, Gordon realizes. If it wasn't already obvious by that insistent scrape of nails against his jumpsuit, or the way Benrey's looking at him now, eyes wide and mouth parted. That heat in Gordon's cheeks crawls down to his chest. He's staring at Gordon like he's hungry, and all the pasty skin being revealed to him may as well be a juicy T-bone steak. Being half-naked ought to be making him pretty chilly in a place like this, but for some reason, it feels way too fucking hot right now.
Thankfully, Benrey stops there, which gives him a moment to get his bearings. On the other hand, Benrey's calling him fucking cute again, and Gordon was having a bad enough time handling that earlier. Now? Jesus, the guy's barely paying attention to him. Mumbling it like it's an afterthought. He doesn't know what it means.
"I-- I'm not fucking cute, dude, we already established this," he insists, doing his level best not to meet Benrey's stare. Gordon folds his arms, irritable and flushed a bright red. "I'm too mean or whatever. I got the picture. You don't have to keep fucking with me."
> Oh, he's changing colors again. Red now, from the tips of his ears down to his chest, and Benrey snorts a laugh. Of course humans can change colors. He'd seen him do this before. A few times actually.
> But he's just turning red, and being snippy, and he's not making a move to take off the rest of the suit. Benrey's eyes flick from Gordon to the water and, with a low chuckle, he decides to take the cue. Which... was a cue, right? He's pretty sure it's a cue, but humans were weird to begin with and Gordon was odder than most.
> Has to be a cue, he decides after a moment of silence wherein Gordon doesn't budge. He grabs the draping top of the suit and gently peels it downwards towards Gordon's feet, watching it pull away from sweaty, dirty skin. Watching it expose dark curls of hair just below his stomach, and watching Gordon's dick spill out into the open air. Benrey's teeth dig into his lips as he watches, even as his hands move clumsily to strip the rest of the rubbery material off of his legs.
> He's touched that before. Wants to touch it again, wants to say something about it. But he can't because apparently it was bad form to say shit about your best bro's average-but-good meat when he wasn't specifically asking, or at least that's what his stupid, skinny doppelganger had said and--
> God. Wait. No. He shakes his head. Best to focus on anything else.
> What else had the Resist-y Squad said? To listen? Humans liked listening? Even when they were being bitchy little drama-snots?
> Then he should... listen, right? But... what had Gordon said? He wasn't actually paying attention. He furrows his brow and his stare intensifies as he tries to piece together enough of the words he did hear to paint a picture. It takes a moment, but soon, it clicks.
> Oh. Yeah. Not cute. Blah, blah. Something, something "mean."
> Benrey's mouth snaps shut as he struggles to tear his eyes away from Gordon's cock, instead keeping a trained eye on his face. His mind is a machine running on fumes with rattling parts, but he struggles through the distraction. He's going to be reassuring. He's a good friend.
> "Uh... yeah? Mean? Cute? You can be both. Bratty little, ah, Gordon Meanman with his nice... cute. Cute little hog."
> The words come out before he can stop them.
> Goddammit.
Oh, God, okay, so none of what he said got through, clearly. He squawks out as much. Gordon's mind spins into overdrive as Benrey manifestly does not let him take care of it himself, instead peeling the jumpsuit clean off his hips and legs and exposing him from top to bottom. His heart thunders in his chest, and he presses his legs tightly together in a futile attempt at modesty.
"My-- my cute little-- Jesus Christ, Benrey, you can not say shit like like that!" Gordon snaps. He jams his hands between his legs to cover himself, humiliation boiling over.
Fucking Benrey. Always saying the worst possible shit, the most embarrassing shit. Gordon thinks this as furiously as he can, because if he acknowledges that there's anything other than purestrain embarrassment and indignation at play, he's gonna snap like a twig. That's all it is. He's a normal guy, and normal guys don't feel their dicks twitch when their best friend calls their dick cute. And... little. That's worse. Much worse.
The thing that Gordon's still failing to understand is why Benrey's still calling him cute. Yeah, it gets his goat, but it's not like Benrey was in the habit of pulling this shit before. And... And Gordon doesn't know why it's getting to him so much, either.
The first time seemed like a prank. A bad joke. The second time, an accident. And the third - fourth - fifth? The times after that, he's not sure anymore. But each time it gets his skin burning hotter and his heart skipping a beat and Gordon's still pissed off but he's not sure exactly why. (Well, in the general sense. This time, it's because Benrey's straight up insulting his dick, thank you.)
"Why did I even agree to this," he moans, head hanging between his shoulders. "Everything's always gotta be a big fucking ordeal for Gordon. You know what, just put me down if you're gonna-- gonna make fun of my meat or whatever! I'll get myself a bath and then we can go and forget this ever happened."
> There is something about the way Gordon fusses at him that makes Benrey's heart skip a beat, though it also awakens something in the back of his mind that he's been consciously trying to tamp down. The urge to pick at him grows as large as his smile as he hooks two fingers under Gordon's arms and lifts him up and out of his palm like a claw in a skill crane. Words dance on the tip of his tongue, ones better fit for a schoolyard bully, and he rumbles a dark laugh as he contemplates what to say.
> It seems the crack about his hog got him all worked up in a delicious sort of way, judging from the way he's still bright crimson and his dick seems appreciative of Benrey's attention. He could double down on that. Then again, he was supposed to be nice in this situation, wasn't he? He'd been doing so good up until this point, and he could imagine the Resist-y People would be proud if they could see him now.
> But the reaction. It's... it's good. Seeing Gordon's dick twitch, seeing him bright as a tomato, seeing him sweating and nervously dodging his gaze. All were signs that he was interested, that he may just be thinking the same things Benrey has been trying not to think and... fuck, them's good thoughts. Great thoughts.
> Maybe there's a line to walk between. Play the game and still be "nice." Benrey wets his lips and huffs a sweet-scented laugh into Gordon's face, before gently lowering him into the water. The surface of the pool practically sparks as Gordon's bare feet make contact, and a shimmering azure mist billows into the air.
> "Nuh-uh. Nope," Benrey replies with a pop of the p. "You're, uh, tired. Gonna, y'know, get you sparkly. Clean. Squeaky. Pretty. Make you feel so good you'll, uh, wanna buy BFF necklaces after."
> Once Gordon is nestled in the pool, he leans down close and presses down on his shoulders to urge him into a seated position.
> "'Sides, ah. Not making fun. S'nice. Cute. Fun size."
> Emphasis on "fun," Benrey thinks, and his smile widens.
A tingle effervesces across Gordon's skin as Benrey slowly lowers him into the water, something like carbonation but not quite. For one, bubbles aren't nucleating on him so much as drifting toward the surface, sluggish and small. But the effect is as curiously refreshing as a cold glass of Pepsi.
In contrast, the water itself is warm and clear, and the humidity fogs up his glasses in short order. Makes it hard to see Benrey before he's firmly suggesting that Gordon sit down. With his hand. He's not expecting it, and he sinks to his knees with a splash and a quiet "whoa, shit".
Gordon rights himself, sitting back against the edge of the pool. And he opens his mouth to say-- well, something, you know, there was a lot to unpack in whatever the fuck Benrey just said to him, but he barely gets it out before Benrey's talking over him.
Cute. Fun size.
"Stop, okay, just stop talking about my meat! Can we please move on? Any other topic?" He crosses his arms in front of his face.
This is, it's too fucking much, okay, there's-- it's just-- the word was already starting to crawl under his skin, and he's just an average American male! You're not supposed to say this shit to another dude! And you're not supposed to, fucking, swallow and shudder when you hear that shit, either. Not supposed to like being talked down to like that. By... by such a big guy. Who probably does think he's a fun size right now. Probably wants to...
Gordon splashes his face with water. Then he takes off his glasses after the fact, feeling like an idiot. See, this is why he's got to get Benrey to knock it off. Too much. Gets him lost in his own head. Gets his blood pumping. And the last thing he wants is to embarrass himself by looking a gift horse in the mouth, getting a boner when Benrey's just trying to do him a solid.
Well. At least that's what he's saying he's doing. The jury's still out on that one. But either way, the most likely outcome is that Benrey never lets him live it down, and Gordon doesn't know if he can handle the psychological devastation right now. So.
"Here, look, I'll even... okay, so, what is this stuff, anyway? It feels like I'm taking a bath in a... a hot energy drink. But like, in a good way?" He cups some in his hand and lets it spill through his fingers. "Last time I jumped in this stuff, I think it fixed a bone. Is that normal? Weirdest fucking thing I ever felt, man."
> "I 'unno," Benrey answers honestly. Because, well, he doesn't know what this stuff is. Even if he knows a lot about Xen (and would be hard-pressed to tell you exactly how he knows these things), it's not like he knew much more than "this thing will eat you" and "this thing won't." All he knows is that these pools feel good and smell good and do things that are good, and could more than likely get Gordon clean. Make him have a more agreeable scent than the already agreeable people-odor he's already wearing.
> The Gordon smell. It's... a nice smell.
> "It's water. Uh. Bubbles." Benrey dips his fingertips in the pool to wet them and feels the curious, sparkling sensation around his skin; it's warm and cold and fizzy and, honestly? Yeah, kind of refreshing. Like caffeinated Pop Rocks or something. He dimly wonders what it tastes like, but ultimately decides not to drink the bath water.
> "Doesn't matter. You're thinking a lot. About wrong things. Need to focus on, uh, getting you ready. For the ball. Gordo-rella." He pauses, scowling. That was bad even for him. Quickly, he recovers, as if it never happened. "So, quiet? Please? Relax?"
> With that, Benrey extends one wet finger and presses against Gordon's chest, as carefully as he can, working in the glittering water and scrubbing gingerly at his chest hair. He works his muscles with a care he didn't know he possessed, and then maneuvers to his shoulders. He feels Gordon's muscles loosening underneath his touch and it makes him feel... accomplished.
> But his eyes keep straying down, down into the water where Gordon's dick should be, obscured by bubbles and blue. And he exhales, fighting the urge to press a button, to raise him up and see if it's still twitching in anticipation, wondering if he'll see it break the surface and greet him.
> Benrey's eyes screw shut and his fingers still as he takes a moment to force himself to be, as Gordon would say, "normal." It is a foreign feeling.
> He is not a fan.
"G-Gordo-rella?" Gordon bursts out laughing despite himself. "That's so bad, I know you can do better than that!" And the funny thing is, he does know. Benrey's got jokes. He's... good at making Gordon laugh. Even when he's clearly phoning it in.
The laughter sets him at ease for the first time since they'd set out the day before. And when Benrey reaches out to start scrubbing, Gordon flinches, but does as Benrey suggests and eventually relaxes into it.
Benrey's strangely quiet as he does it. Doesn't make any dumb quips. Doesn't start talking about video games or whatever. So Gordon doesn't feel inclined to break the silence, either. The meaner part of him insists that it's just because he doesn't want to set Benrey off on some dipshit tangent, but the truth is, it's kind of nice. The quiet. Even if it's bordering on surreal. All he can hear is the quiet sound of Benrey washing his skin, dipping his fingers into the water. His breathing, measured but heavy. And the sound of his own heartbeat pounding in his chest.
The bath itself isn't half-bad, either. He didn't expect Benrey to be this... careful. Not a word Gordon really associates with the guy. But Benrey's fingers work his muscles in tight circles, slow and firm, washing off however many days of sweat and dirt and blood, and Gordon's finds himself melting a little. Letting his eyes drift shut.
He groans when Benrey works his thumb into his back just right, dislodging a knot in the muscle he wasn't even aware of until it was gone. "Oh my God, how did you do that," Gordon breathes.
> Oh. Oh.
> That noise was a... nice one. A pleasant one. One that makes Benrey hesitate for a second and lose his smile before quickly regaining it and pretending he'd never misplaced it in the first place. And he figures Gordon likely didn't notice--his human can't see without the glasses--so he says nothing as he dips his fingers yet again and massages into Gordon's shoulders, exploring every inch and feeling how bizarre every groove and curve is underneath the pad of his finger.
> It's odd, but not a bad odd. The kind of odd that requires further investigation because, while he's had his hands on Gordon before, this feels different. Better, even, in some ways. Motivated by equal parts curiosity and mounting desire, he continues to glide across Gordon's skin and work his muscles and feel them loosen and pause to take in the rapid thudding of Gordon's tiny, tiny pulse against his skin.
> Benrey swallows the Sweet Voice pooling in the back of his mouth. He gags. He coughs into his shoulder. His voice breaks a bit as his normally flat demeanor begins to falter amid a mob of intrusive thoughts that march right into his brain like little soldiers.
> "Can do it 'cause 'm not human. Got magic fingers. Call now. For $19.99, we'll throw in a second one free," Benrey recites, but his eyes are still looking for a hint of cock. But not just that--
> "Limited time offer. Supplies going fast. Better, uh, pick up that phone."
> -- his chest, bits of leg sticking out of the water, that pretty neck, that long hair--
> "Call in, uh, next fifteen minutes and I'll... uh..."
> --that stomach, slightly soft around the middle, and arms that were too strong for somebody of his persuasion--
> "Uh."
> -- every inch that HEV suit wouldn't let him see. Gordon would look so much better in something more... breezy. Clingy. Revealing.
> "Fuck," he says breathily. Something roils inside him, and a lot of it is unfortunately roiling below the belt. So much for subtlety. So much for "nice."
Benrey keeps scrubbing, keeps rubbing his sore muscles between thumbs and index fingers, and it takes a conscious effort for Gordon not to doze off. Even the prickling of fizzy bubbles against his skin fights an upward battle to keep him awake. It's just, he's been on the go for way too long, now, and days of tension are leaching out of him, and Benrey's, like, weirdly good at this. For once, Gordon doesn't have to be thinking about parallel universes and the end of the fucking world or whatever. Somebody else can do the thinking for him.
And then he starts rambling about magic fingers like he's hosting some kind of infomercial and Gordon's laugh comes easier and harder than it has any right to. But Benrey's trailing off now, distracted. Swearing under his breath. Gordon blinks open his eyes and glances up at him.
Despite his lack of glasses, Benrey's big enough (and close enough) that Gordon can make out most of his expression, even if it's fuzzy and indistinct. His mouth hangs open a little, and his brows are knotted up under the cast shadow of his helmet. Like he's thinking about something.
"Free shipping?" Gordon finishes his joke for him. Benrey must have lost his train of thought again. Gordon's mostly used to it... mostly.
He shrugs and rolls his shoulders from side to side, grunting and making small, quiet noises as he stretches. Man, that feels good. There must be something in the water, even if Benrey was, as usual, unhelpful as to what.
Finally, Gordon decides to tug out the band from his hair, spilling it loose over his shoulders. He snaps it around his wrist for safekeeping, then runs his hands through his hair to shake it out.
"Uh. While we're at it. Think you could get my hair later? Like, I don't know where you got the soap from, but I'm assuming you can just, like, magic up some conditioner or something, too."
> Benrey doesn't know how to tell Gordon he didn't actually have soaps. He said so, but he... he didn't. If not for Gordon pointing out that he could "magic" some up, he might have been really stuck, but with a quick shake of his head to bring himself back to his senses, his face lights up once more with a teasing smile and his tone eases back into his typical taunting monotone.
> "Uh. Yeahs. Soaps and, uh, condo-stuff. Got'cha."
> There is a flash of green as he lifts his hand above him (in a dramatic way that he hopes is as cool and impressive as it looks in his head), and feels something slimy manifest in his hands. Slimy and, well, scented like a Glade plug-in. Like flowers and "summer breezes" and things that are a lot more Earth-y than the Sweet Voice. It's a nice color, too, but one that doesn't match how he feels it should look, because it smells more like blue than it does white and...
> ... You know what? It doesn't matter.
> Benrey dips a fingertip in the soap like a child about to paint and, tongue poking out between his teeth once more, sets to work giving Gordon a once-over yet again. He hopes that maybe Gordon won't notice or point out the fact he hadn't even used soap in the first place, as distracted as he was, and just accept the fact that Benrey is once more rubbing his shoulders, his chest, his arms, his legs. Lifting up limbs and maneuvering them to get into hard-to-reach places. Pushing a little firmer than before to feel for that fluttering pulse.
> God, his own heart is beginning to match it beat for beat.
> "Yeah," Benrey mutters at long last as his tongue darts back into his mouth, "I can. Do that. Get your hair."
> His hair. His hair is so pretty when it's down, already having grown out after he cut it in the Bad Ending World. Silky and nice with bits of gray that make him look like he's as smart as he thinks he is--
> No, no. Nice. Nice. He is grappling with the idea of being nice!
> "Get your hair with, uh, real shit. Good shampoo. Actual soaps and stuff that ain't, uh, the stuff. Your stuff. Head and Shoulders. Make you look real good, real nice. Nice for m--uh."
> He pauses. He snaps his mouth shut. He pauses over Gordon's body and thinks for a moment. He wants to say it, he wants to tease and pick and make Gordon flush bright red and play their stupid goddamn game, but now isn't the time. He doesn't think so, at least? Maybe it is?
> Does Gordon think it is? He hopes so, but he doesn't know how to tell. And, apparently, humans didn't like it when their alien best friends played games they didn't want to play.
> "... Mandatory hair inspection," he recovers. "Black Mesa, uh, protocol. Already fucked up the passport. Don't... don't fuck up hair day."
Blood doesn't so much rush to Gordon's face as it crawls, moving as sluggishly as his mind does, processing this. He knows what Benrey was gonna say before he snapped his mouth shut like a mousetrap. Gordon swore he could even hear the teeth click.
Maybe he didn't actually say it, but Gordon's entire system reacts as though he has, because, fucking, he did! For all intents and purposes! A bright, prickling heat surges down his spine that has nothing to do with the water. Why does he talk like that?! Fucking cooing at him, like Benrey's taking some kind of sick pleasure in teasing him in the most embarrassing way possible... but that's about what Gordon expects at this point.
So why did he stop himself?
When Benrey marshals his voice into something more flat and toneless, Gordon frowns. He's... he's really trying, isn't he. Trying to do something decent without turning it into one of their fucked up little games. Some of the mental furniture rearranges itself in Gordon's head, pictures straightened and doorways unjammed.
Unfortunately, all the dusting and clearing in the world can't change the fact that the foundation in his head is wired to make him a paranoid little fucker. And Benrey's always playing some kind of 4th-dimensional chess with him, anyway, right? He's just being rational. Wary.
That said... he's already here. He might as well relax and deal with the consequences later. Especially when... oh.
Benrey's washing him in earnest, fingers pressing into him and manipulating him. They're all over him, probing him without direction, and now Gordon's not sure if "relaxed" is the best descriptor for himself. There's just, there's a lot of touching happening, and Benrey's hands are so, so big, and Gordon can just make out the tip of Benrey's tongue poking through his teeth and something about that intense focus - on him - makes Gordon's breathing go shallow.
Christ. He can't-- He shouldn't think about this. This is the kind of sick shit that only happens in his head, not in real life. Gordon's just a normal guy with something very wrong with him, and that "something" makes him more prone than most to awful little fantasies, intrusive thoughts.
That's all this is. There's gotta be something wrong with him to want somebody ten times his size to touch him like this, but in, like, a horny way. Like some kind of freakjob doing gross shit with an action figure. Maybe it doesn't make him a bad person. So long as he keeps it to himself. He'll keep all his weird little fantasies right next to his heart, and then he'll die. That's that.
It's almost over, Gordon tells himself furiously, willing his blood to stop rushing to his dick and his stomach to stop coiling with heat. If he can just focus, he can will his boner down before he has to get out of the pool and then Benrey will be none the wiser.
"Okay, first of all, I didn't fuck up the passport," Gordon blusters, in an attempt to power through it. "I never needed one before! If anything, I think you fucked up, man. Never told me about Black Mesa Picture Day or whatever."
> Benrey's fingers do not pause as Gordon fusses at him, but his eyes can't stay focused on his own work. He's too busy watching Gordon's throat bob as he swallows around a lump, or how his blush is darkening and spreading. He's gauging the look in his eyes, looking for any indication that he can go ahead and make it weird, but--even though he's sweating and nervous and fidgety and acting just like he does when they're playing--Benrey is too nervous to make a move.
> And "nervous" wasn't a part of his vocabulary until that Alyx lady and Gordon's own downhill slide made it obvious that he actually had to think human to interact with humans. His human specifically.
> So, even though he sees the signs, he decides to bite his tongue. It is foreign, it is uncomfortable, and it's almost painful to choke down. To redirect his alien brain into more terrestrial channels. To try to figure out what a human person would do in his situation and, barring that, just continuing to do what he was supposed to be doing in the first place.
> Bathing Gordon.
> "Shouldn't have to tell you. S'in the, ah, employee handbook. Welcome packet. Folder. Right next to Warhammer 401k and, uh, ensure-ants."
> He cups a small amount of water in his palm and trickles it over Gordon's body, watching it drain down his form in sparkling rivulets. They trace his contours, weaving into every nook and cranny and crease that Benrey couldn't reach, and he watches them with an intensity that even he can feel. A warmth in his gut, a twitch of his dick. His tongue laps at his lips like a hungry animal; he wants to lick every droplet off of Gordon and explore ever inch of him as thoroughly as the bathwater.
> But... no. No, no. He's normal. He's normal and human and he's being nice, and Gordon hasn't said anything so he's going to close his eyes, huff angrily, and then continue on his merry way.
> "Everyone knows about, uh, Hair Inspection Day. And Passport Inspection. You, ah, you're just... uh."
> Benrey breathes heavily out of his nose as his eyes lock on Gordon yet again. Staring up at him, red-faced. Hair now adhered to his skin from the water. Chest heaving. He reaches out in spite of himself and presses a fingertip to Gordon's torso once more, feeling that rapid pulse and feeling it rise and fall with each breath. Knowing he could make Gordon's heart race faster and really put his lungs to work.
> He wants to feel him pant, wants to hear each heavy breath accompanied with his name and...
> No. God, it's getting so fucking hard to resist the game, but Benrey is good! Good for his best friend! He's learned and he's going to stay good. He's just being nice. He can be nice without being--
> "Missed a spot," Benrey lies as he pulls his finger away. He pretends to rinse Gordon off once more and sputters a cough. "Now, let's get those, ah, locks. Clean and brushed. Shiny. Barbie Girl, Barbie World, am I right?"
Gordon ducks his head instinctively as Benrey douses him with water, shielding his face. There's a huff from above him, and then another, breath hot and heavy on Gordon's neck. The closest comparable experience is... it's like being trapped under some kind of big fucking animal. A bear, maybe, snorting at the nape of his neck before it decides to eat him. Violently.
Cool. He loves thoughts like that. A pleasant reminder that they don't exactly carry fucking risperidone in the aftermath of a fascist takeover.
He shakes his head again to rid himself of it, then looks at Benrey in surprise when he presses a fingertip to his chest. It just rests there, warm and steady. Not pulling or pinching or shoving or any of the things Gordon expects. Gears whir to life in his head. Benrey's being-- he's being kind of fucking weird, but not in the ways Gordon's grown accustomed to, and when he's spent the entirety of their working relationship trying to get his sea legs, it throws him off just as badly when the boat stops rocking.
"I don't know how to tell you this, but it's not just Barbies who have to wash their hair," Gordon snorts at him. "You got me all worried now, man, I don't even know if you know the basics. It's shampoo, then conditioner, okay?"
After a moment, he slicks his hair back out of his face, too. For good measure. "And try not to get it in my eyes, either... Actually, uh, I'm kind of having second thoughts about this. Maybe you should just let me handle it. No offense."
> "Know what I'm doin'. I got hair. Nice hair. Better than... uh, Mr. 2-in-1," Benrey protests, masking the sudden wave of panic that just roiled up inside of him. Just the idea of not touching Gordon is too much, and he inwardly crinkles at the thought of missing his chance to feel his human again. And again. And again. Petting and scrubbing and massaging and imagining what it would be like to get Gordon close enough to his face that he could taste him.
> But... he can't do that. He's not allowed. This isn't The Game. This is A Nice Favor for His Person and, well, he's got to be normal. And chill. And calm. And this is all really too fucking hard.
> However, as long as he plays by the rules, he still gets a chance to touch Gordon, and he supposes that is a small victory. It's what spurs him on to press his thighs together and shift his weight to hide his burgeoning boner behind the Xenian island so that Gordon can't be alarmed or scandalized or angry or accusatory. It's what prompts him to summon from the ether, yet again, a new supply of nice-smelling soaps and an equally pleasant conditioner that still don't match the color his brain tells him they should be.
> And, with fangs pressed into his bottom lip, he dips his finger into the shampoo freshly spawned in his palm and swirls it gently, watching as Gordon regards him with a mixture of curiosity and what he hopes isn't disdain. He's been working so hard to try to not make the guy angry, and he's struggling not to slip.
> Slowly, he drips a dollop of soap onto Gordon's head--towards the back, since he is honestly trying to obey the request not to blind him--followed by a few drops of glittering, warm water. He monitors the way Gordon's expression changes as he presses against his head as gently as he can and begins to work it into a lather.
> It's... nice. It's not the usual rough stuff and bullying he's used to, but there is something undeniably pleasant about watching Gordon melt into his touch as he works, careful and light, his body rocking with the movements in a way that makes Benrey feel both strangely aroused and, well... warm. As warm as the pool of water, all on the inside like a badly heated burrito. It's new, and uncomfortable, but not unwelcome, and he savors it by trying to make the moment stretch.
> From the scalp and downwards, until his finger is stroking the side of Gordon's cheek and reaching under his chin as if trying to tilt his head up for a kiss he was way too big to give. Like a true romantic that he knew, in his gut, he wasn't actually anywhere close to being. But it felt right, and the dazed and pleasant look in Gordon's eyes shatter the alien armor around his heart in one powerful blow.
> Benrey swallows hard and says nothing. He just scrubs and stares. And scrubs. And stares.
> Slow, precise, delicate circles. Enjoying the moment, and buying time as he tries to untangle this utterly alien knot of feelings that is twisting around in his gut. Feelings he isn't sure he understands or particularly wants, but addictive all the same.
"Oh, that's kinda nice, actually," Gordon mumbles distantly, as Benrey starts to lather up his hair.
It's impressive, honestly, just how delicate Benrey's capable of being when he puts his mind to it. The pressure's firm enough that it feels good against his scalp, but he's not being knocked around or given a headache or anything. It's... pleasant. His eyes drift shut again, now that he's pretty sure Benrey's got the hang of it.
That finger slips lower, lower, stroking the side of Gordon's jaw, and Gordon leans into it. Lets him work soap into the underside of his facial hair. (And that's nice, too. It's the kind of thing he figured Benrey would miss.) And if Benrey rubs a bit slower, tilts his head up just a little so that Gordon has to peer up at him through slowly-blinking eyes, well, he's not going to complain.
Benrey's eyes are so big, so close to his and so intently focused that-- that he's sweating a little, just visible at the edge of Gordon's vision. Gordon's heart beats faster, and a strange tension begins to wind itself tight in him. It's like Benrey's trying to scan him. All that attention focused directly on him gins up butterflies in his stomach.
Gordon's suddenly hit by the awareness that nobody's done anything like this for him in a long, long time. Maybe ever. And here he is, letting his frenemy (best frenemy, whispers an annoying little voice that sounds suspiciously like Benrey) scrub him clean. Take care of him. How in the fuck did he end up here? And, more importantly, why is he so comfortable with this? This is the guy who got his arm cut off, not, fucking, not his live-in girlfriend. That broke up with him a couple years ago, citing the fact that he was "a puffed-up MIT asshole". Whatever. Details.
After a long stretch of silence, Gordon breaks it by saying, "I, uh, I think that's good. Yeah. Lemme just..."
And he pushes Benrey's finger away before ducking his head under the water, hoping Benrey doesn't notice the way his voice cracks.
> It... almost feels like he's being spurned when his finger is pushed away. There's a quaver in Gordon's voice and he isn't sure if it's nerves or rejection. In an instant, a long-dormant part of Benrey's brain flares to life, leaving him mentally bouncing theories as to why his person had sounded so off. It could have been that he was having the same sorts of thoughts Benrey had been having the whole time, or it could have been that he had done something wrong. Getting advice on how to handle Gordon came with the unpredictable side effect of giving him a lot to worry about in terms of "boundaries" and "behaving," which he honestly wasn't comfortable or keen on dealing with.
> These insecurities melt away as he watches Gordon duck under the water, however. It creates a hiccup in the system, a blue screen that necessitates a reboot. There's something distracting about the way his back arches forward, muscles moving, head dipping beneath the surface. On his knees, ass lifting up slightly so he has a touch more leverage. Hair floating to the top, and then clinging tightly to his skin as he emerges with a gasp and throws his head back and slicks it out of his face and...
> ... His face is dripping. Sopping. Water trailing from his mouth and down his beard. Running down his temples, his cheeks. Like sweat. Like... something else.
> "Holy shit," Benrey mutters with the barest hint of voice. He pauses, he tries to think of something to say that would mask the fact he's not being "normal," and he's been playing The Game the whole time, regardless of what he's been telling himself. The hamster is running, the gears are whirring, but Windows is still updating and he's at a loss for anything better to say.
> So he doubles down. His voice grows louder.
> "Holy shit."
Gordon winches his eyes shut as he wipes water from them, slinging his hair back out of his face for good measure. God, he can feel how much less greasy it is now, and it's like taking off an itchy sweater for the first time. Makes him breathe a sigh of relief.
"Thanks, man, that's honestly really... uh..."
He slows to a stop, thrown off by Benrey muttering something. Almost inaudible. It gets him to crane his neck to look up at Benrey properly, about to ask, before Benrey says it again. Louder. Okay, yeah, he did catch that right the first time, huh.
Even though he's out of focus, Gordon can still see how wide his eyes are. How slack his face is. He doesn't need the finer details to notice Benrey's hand hovering in midair, like he's been interrupted in the middle of a thought. Staring at him like... like...
Heat crashes over Gordon in a violent wave, from the crown of his head to the pit of his belly. He's not even-- he's not even doing anything. He's sopping wet, and he can't fucking stand the way his hair looks when it's laying flat and slick against his head like this, and he can't exactly hide all the unseemly scars and and stretch marks and soft spots and all the other issues he's poked at in the mirror time and time again. (He had a growth spurt as a teenager, okay, and stretching him out an extra foot and a half so quickly didn't give his skin a lot of time to adapt.)
In short, he feels more naked and exposed now, half-covered by the foamy surface of this shallow pool, than he did when Benrey had him in his palm with his entire dick out. And it makes Gordon fucking throb under the surface of the water.
He's gotta be making fun of me, Gordon desperately tells himself. Defense mechanism. It's not working as well as it usually does, and he subconsciously presses his thighs tighter together.
His tongue darts out to wet his lips, suddenly dry despite the water carding down his face.
"What," starts Gordon. But he doesn't know where to take that question, and it dies as quick as it came.
> Game over. It's done. Benrey's used his final life and lost it in a valiant attempt to beat the final boss, but now he's gawking down at Gordon who is gawking right back up at him with a tell-tale look on his face that makes Benrey almost positive that he's playing just as hard. His own breath quickens as once complicated thoughts congeal into something more comfortable, something more streamlined, something more natural.
> Something that Alyx would have been disappointed to hear, especially after how good he had been doing.
> He inhales sharply through his nose and leans in close, the air coming back out at a low laugh as his mouth twists into a hungry grin. A finger extends and he presses it against the side of Gordon's face, an almost loving stroke. He can feel a burst of heat in his cheeks and he knows, glasses or not, that Gordon can probably see how red he's getting. He shifts his legs as he floats beside the island, trying to accommodate a cock that is now frighteningly hard and twitching against his stomach.
> "What 'what?'" Benrey asks, his voice monotonous but still somehow teasing. "Can't a bro, uh, admire his bro? Have a look-see? Look nice. Pretty."
> His finger drops to the water and stirs it a bit, creating a roil of bubbles that send a pleasant, tingling sensation up his hand, his arm. It seems to travel straight to his heart, which is pounding furiously in his chest.
> "You, uh... you good? Need anymore help? Getting clean? Hard to reach places?"
> A pause. He feels his stomach twist into knots. This has never really happened before while playing this game, but it's powerful. Makes him feel desperate. Needy. Makes him feel guilty and he hates it because he never feels guilty.
> As quickly as the mask breaks, he picks up the pieces and puts them back together. He slides it back on. He takes a deep breath, fumbling with his words.
> "Want to, uh... pla... pretty? Want to pretty? Want best friend Benrey to make you, uh, cleaner? Prettier? Help you? Please? Thank-you."
Two paths emerge before Gordon. On the one, well-worn and well-lit, he would tell Benrey, "No thanks, I'm good," and he would tell Benrey to turn around so he can dry off and crawl back into the jumpsuit. And then he would let Benrey fit him in the armor again, trying his best to ignore those fingers on his skin, and later he would duck away and jerk himself raw thinking about it. Swearing at himself. Wishing he could be normal for once in his fucking life and not develop questionable new fantasies about the one guy who's as out of place in this world as he is.
On the other, bracketed by brambles and dark, uncharted woods, Gordon would... He would...
He'd get it through his head that he's not the only little fucking weirdo in this relationship. That Benrey keeps staring at him like that for a reason.
And that Benrey's trying so fucking hard to play nice because... well... Gordon hasn't wrapped his head around that one yet, but he has his suspicions. Some of them more worrying than others. But the point is, Benrey's not taking the bait. He's got Gordon in a highly vulnerable position, and he could be pushing Gordon around if he wanted, playing their little game and driving him up the wall.
But he isn't. He keeps choking it back. It's unsettling. Gordon doesn't know how to handle it. He kind of wishes, in the back of his mind, that Benrey would tack on his 'schoolyard bully' demeanor again. At least that Gordon understands on some level. Push, pull, tussle.
And most unsettling of all is that downright tender way that Benrey drags a finger along his cheek. Anxiety thrums to life in Gordon's blood. No, no, that's not-- This is weird. This is so weird. There's something roiling and ugly churning in his stomach, and he doesn't like it one bit. He's not coping with it, he needs to-- to wrangle this situation, get some control over it, steer it back to familiar territory.
And in doing so, Gordon floors it directly into the woods.
He looks back at Benrey, taking in the hot flush crawling up his skin. The awkward shifting. I'm not the only freak here, Gordon reminds himself, blood pounding in his ears.
So he shifts himself. Sits back, draws his legs up so that his knees peek out of the water. Lets them fall to the sides, just a little. And he says, tucking a strand of wet hair behind his ear,
"What, and you're not even gonna-- That's some low-hanging fruit you're leaving on the vine. Startin' to get worried about you, man. You haven't gone this long without making fun of me in... uh, ever."
> Wait. Was that...?
> Was that admission?
> Benrey's pupils grow wide at the words, and his smile threatens to falter as he feels the cogs creaking inside of his head. Connecting the dots with all the newfound information he has on human people is like doing the advanced science stuff Gordon seemed to believe he was so special for knowing. There's emotional equations, rechecking the data, counter-arguments for every theory he comes up with, but in the end a little lightbulb flickers to life. The lights are on, somebody is home, and by god does that somebody want to play ball already.
> Benrey's finger stills on Gordon's cheek and he feels an uncharacteristic lump grow in his throat as his face grows redder and sweat beads at his brow. That weird emotion that once wrapped itself around its siblings, Worry and Guilt, finally cut itself loose and tangles itself in his stomach. He doesn't like it--it's too warm, and it's not the horny kind of heat that he's used to--but he allows it to stay. It feels like it may turn into something good if he just lets it incubate.
> "Uh, what? Not gonna... huh?"
> Benrey's voice cracks just like Gordon's had a moment before. He pretends it never happened and seamlessly continues.
> "Not gonna, ah, make fun of you. Gonna... gonna pick that fruit, though."
> His finger trails down Gordon's chin, down his neck, across his shoulders, down his chest. It rests dangerously low on his belly, threatening to dip lower. He grins at Gordon, leans in close, and huffs a laugh that's less malicious than it is honestly amused with its own cleverness.
> "Uh, get it? Fruit? Picked? You're, ah, you're the fruit, bro."
> A pause.
> "Laugh, please."
Gordon swallows, hard. The implications hit him like a bowling ball. That somebody's dropping on him. Maybe from an overpass or something. He's spinning out a little, alright, and losing his grip on the metaphor.
Benrey's fingertip leaves goosebumps in its wake, and his breathing goes shallow as the nail lightly catches on the crook of his neck. Lower, lower, slipping just below the surface of the water to rest on his belly, and Gordon thanks every deity he can imagine (and some he can't) that the bubbles hide... well. This, feeling it throb where it lies heavy against his hip.
Despite himself, he does actually laugh when Benrey prompts it. It comes out high and way louder than he intended, but still. Now that's a metaphor he's got a good grasp on, he thinks wildly. Oh, Christ.
"That's-- that's not really what I meant," Gordon tries to argue, but not with very much conviction. "But, uh, ha ha! Great joke! Fucking love jokes, man!"
> Benrey doesn't really hear what Gordon is saying. He does know that tone, though, from times they've played The Game before. It's a tone that speaks of permission, a sort of polite denial without the force. The kind of arguing that Benrey knows he can get away with ignoring because it's not sincere. Game talk. A challenge.
> Their own secret language of want.
> "Thank-you," Benrey purrs when Gordon forces a laugh, and his finger rubs a slow, slow circle into Gordon's stomach. He's sure Gordon notices when it bumps a bit too low, because he can feel something tell-tale just beneath the surface of the water. His grin grows at the realization that he was on the right track, tongue slipping out from between his teeth and running along his lips. A show, given to Gordon.
> A show he desperately wants Gordon to notice is meant for him. A tech demo. A promise.
> "But, uh... if that ain't what you meant. What did you mean? 'Cause you seem to be enjoyin' this, best friend."
A noise threatens to burst from Gordon's chest when Benrey starts to rub, slow and insistent, and grazes against-- Oh, God. But he clamps his lips tight, and all that escapes him is a harsh puff of air through his nose. He knows now, he knows, and it's written all over his face, a raised eyebrow and a smug smile and the slow, deliberate movement of his tongue over his lower lip.
It's fucking cartoonish, is what it is. Gordon should laugh. Gordon does laugh, again, another nervous little titter that doesn't communicate "amusement" so much as "flustered hysteria".
"I don't know," he blurts out, and it's the most honest thing he's said all day. "Fucking, God, I'm not-- This isn't what it looks like, okay, you just-- you keep looking at me like that, and I don't know what your fucking game is, man!"
He can't look at Benrey, not right now, not when he knows Benrey's looking at him like that, and so he looks down and oh, no, that's a bad idea. Because Benrey's still drawing tight little circles into his skin, unnervingly gentle. And so Gordon's eyes keep darting around, finding nowhere suitable to land.
At least Benrey's taking the bait. He's not doing that weird sappy shit anymore, and Gordon's in more familiar territory: the push and pull. The teasing. So he pulls harder, in hopes that Benrey will knock it off for good.
"If anybody's 'enjoying this', it's you, buddy! I'm just a, uh, innocent bystander, you know?"
> He doesn't sound convincing. There's fractures in his voice, and his words are stumbling like they fell down the stairs. He's looking everywhere but at Benrey, his face red and his eyes nervously darting from thing to thing to thing. But, in the end, they always come back to him, in one way or another.
> It's tells like this that let Benrey know that he's playing. The Game is afoot, he's been given the go-ahead. It's time to take the ball and run.
> "Uh-huh. Sure. Innocent. Lessee what you're hidin', bro."
> And with that, Benrey removes his finger from Gordon's stomach, instead parting his fingers into a V-shape and hooking Gordon underneath his arms. It's like a claw in a skill crane and, with a snort, he lifts Gordon out of the water. Naked, wet, and standing at attention from the looks of it; his human apparently had been playing along a lot longer than Benrey knew. He watches Gordon dangling a few feet from the pool at the end of his hand and smirks.
> But there's something different now, isn't there? Something Benrey sees in his human that makes that weird feeling he's been fighting twirl and twist. He's barely even noticing Gordon's boner more than he's looking at the way his hair is clinging to his face, and the way his eyes are flicking up at him expectantly, and how warm and small and cute he looks. He looks delicate and handsome and he wants to touch him, but he wants to touch all of him, and his heart is thumping so hard he starts to worry because... fuck. Is he dying? Is Gordon killing him just by being cute?
> Benrey swallows hard. He hopes his expression didn't falter. He broadens his grin in case it did, until the muscles in his cheeks honestly hurt. And he inhales deeply and forces a mocking laugh and squeezes his fingers around Gordon gently in an attempt to further mock him.
> "I 'unno, bro. Looks like you're, uh... you're carrying without a permit. That's... uh, an infract... fracta... infection. You're a bad boy, aren't'cha?"
Gordon yelps as those fingers hook under his arms and drag him out of the water. Oh, God, his legs are kicking out from underneath him, and his hands scrabble at Benrey's, and Benrey's just smirking at him all up close and personal and he's fucked, he's really, really fucked. His fucking dick bobs in the air like-- like-- he doesn't know, he doesn't have a simile for this! Gordon's never been in this situation before! But bob it does, until he comes to a stop right in front of Benrey's face.
"It's infraction, dude!" Gordon snaps, his mind jumping to the least important thing Benrey said. "Fucking 'infraction'! And I don't-- I don't know what you expect when you're all, fucking--"
He's cut off by a gasp when Benrey squeezes him, just a little. Makes Gordon keenly aware of those big fingers. He can just... he can do whatever he fucking wants, huh? Pick Gordon up like it's nothing? Wrap those fingers around him, so big and hot and rough against his skin, and move all his limbs around just like he was doing earlier and--
And--
Gordon blinks, coming back to himself. Face hot. Mouth dry. And Benrey's grin looks impossibly wider.
"You know," he finishes weakly.
> "Maybe I do," Benrey responds, jostling Gordon lightly. "Maybe I don't. Maybe you should tell me, bro. When I'm all fuckin' what?"
> He lifts Gordon higher, and closer. Really gets a good look at him, leaning in and running his tongue along his jagged teeth. Like a predator, like something that wants to swallow Gordon whole, though that's the last thing on his mind. He wants to taste Gordon, that's for sure, but there's... there's more to it.
> He wants to reel him in. Follow this weird feeling. Press his lips against Gordon and--
> Benrey inhales sharply through his nose. Gordon smells positively delicious. Like something fruity and sweet and earthly. And he looks delicious, too, all soft and supple and soaked to the bone, smooth skin glistening in the alien lights.
> His dick twitches, straining against his pants. He's so hard it hurts. He wonders if Gordon can see, but can't imagine he can miss it.
> "C'mon," he teases, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Tell me what I am, bro. Tell best friend Benrey what's on your mind. Bonding experience. Bros being bros."
He wrenches his eyes shut, breath coming harder and faster despite his efforts to control it. When Benrey fucking talks like that, he can't help it, okay? All-- all smug and condescending and all the shit that should get under his skin-- and does, yeah, it drives him up the wall, but. But. There must be something wrong with him, Gordon thinks desperately. Something warped in the fabric of his mind that makes a shiver race down his spine.
Then he feels warm breath puffing against his face, and he opens his eyes again. Just in time to see a broad tongue run across sharp, sharp teeth. A naked suggestion. Gordon's mouth falls open a little and hangs there, stunned speechless.
Until Benrey mutters, c'mooon, voice low and heated in a way that goes straight to Gordon's belly. And his dick twitches in the open air, fully visible this time. Fuck.
"You're," he starts, staring at his own fingertips, where they're digging into Benrey's hand.
God, this is humiliating! And he should, he should tell Benrey to fuck off and put him down, but he doesn't. That same warp in his fabric goes all the way down to his autonomic nervous system. Heart racing, blood pumping, pupils dilating and sweat beading and every other unconscious reaction he can't wrangle into submission.
Because he wants to be wrangled into submission.
Okay, Christ! He gets it! He doesn't need the color commentary from his own fucking brain!
Gordon takes a deep breath to steel himself, and then he starts again, choked and hesitant, "When you're... God, fucking, touching me and breathing on me and shit, man! Like you'd be doing any better if you had somebody's big fucking hands all over you! Okay?"
As soon as the words leave him, a fresh wave of embarrassment crests and crashes over him. Stupid, stupid, he shouldn't have said it.
> Oh. Well. That was new. Usually, there's a bit more arguing, a bit more resistance, a bit more of Benrey getting called things like "weirdo" and "freak" before they have a good "haha" about it and touch dicks. But Gordon is being so earnest and honest and talking about how he's touching him, about big hands, about doing this same thing to Benrey (sort of talking about it, anyway), and...
> ... And Benrey feels... wanted? Was that the word? Wanted?
> Yeah. He feels wanted.
> And that foreign, alien, hot-cold emotion twisting inside of him balloons and explodes, and there is a sudden, pulse-pounding sensation of want and warmth that courses through his body like a poison. He can feel drool pooling under his tongue and he swallows hard, his smile fading into something more earnest as he tries to maintain a mocking, bullying stare. Tries to keep his head in the game.
> Their game.
> "Oh. You, uh. You like it when I breathe on you? Fuckin'... secret alien power. Uh, blow dryer." He pauses and chuckles. "Heh. Blow."
> He inches Gordon closer to his face, and the closer he brings him, the more he can feel the little bit of warmth radiating off of him. Welcoming him. Blazing hot, like he is on the inside, and flushed so red he looked burned. And that warm, weird, unwelcome emotion surges again as he lets out a sigh and sits Gordon in his palm, plopping him down unceremoniously like a captured bug.
> Only he's not watching him with a childlike curiosity. He's really examining him, trying to wiggle the wrench out of the gears in his brain. With some effort, he pops it loose, and the words pour out of his mouth without any restraint.
> "Bet'cha you'd like it if I, uh... dried you off. Gentle breeze. Pick a scent. Have eight exciting flavors. Blue. Watermelon. Other blue. Tropical, uh, kiss."
> Even he isn't sure why he stressed that last word. The weird emotion spoke for him.
> His mouth snaps shut.
> Awkward.
Whatever Gordon was expecting, it wasn't "being dropped buck-naked onto Benrey's palm". His legs splay out in front of him, and he instinctively tries to draw his knees up. Doesn't change the fact that he's got his boner out in front of God and everybody.
"Was that supposed to be a joke?" Despite himself, he bursts out laughing. He does his best to choke it back down. "You really, uh, gotta work on your dirty talk, man."
Gordon doesn't manage to catch himself before he all but admits that, yeah, that was dirty talk. This is a situation where Benrey should be trying to talk dirty to him. It's breaking the rules a little. Breaking kayfabe. But it's hard to resist bringing it up when Benrey's trying to get him hot by talking about blowing on him like a spoonful of soup.
Then he actually thinks about what Benrey said. Tropical kiss. That's not-- that's not anything. That's not real. Benrey's just talking about kissing him, in whatever weird fucking roundabout way he usually does. A small part of him softens. It's... almost cute. If he were inclined to ever describe Benrey that way. Which he isn't.
But Gordon plays along anyway. "What are you talking about? Scents? Dude, I smelled your breath earlier, and lemme tell you, it wasn't any kind of fucking tropical kiss."
> "Uh, no. S'one of the other flavors," Benrey responds indignantly, façade breaking for a moment. "That flavor was, uh... Glade Plug-in."
> As he speaks, he reels Gordon in closer, sitting in his palm and still sopping wet. He looks so small, so delicate, so... cute, and the thought makes his heart flutter again. It grabs his tongue and twists it into an awkward knot that takes a moment to untie. He works fast, hoping to save face. Get back in the game.
> But it's hard. Harder than before, and as Gordon stares at him expectantly, he's suddenly floundering. While he is externally stiff, flat, and monotonous, on the inside he is scrambling to pick up his scattered index cards during a speech. He wants to play, but he wants to taste. He wants to stroke Gordon's head as much as his dick and he doesn't know why. He wants to say something naughty and nice all at the same time and...
> "Lemme, uh. Demo. Demon-stray-shun," Benrey says, interrupting his own thoughts. "Tropical kiss. Free sample. Here we go."
> And with that, he brings Gordon to his mouth. He presses the smaller man into his lips, a small and chaste kiss being planted in the first place he can reach: Gordon's throat. Only it's... not just his throat. It's basically his whole shoulder, and throat, and beneath his jaw. He practically envelops him, could literally swallow him if he wanted to, but pulls away and snorts a laugh as though this spontaneous act was premeditated as a joke.
> He sounds unconvincing.
> Even more so when he chuckles, "See? Coconut. Sea breeze. Lime. Seagulls. All the classic smells."
Lips press against Gordon's skin before he's fully prepared for it, and he lets out a surprised little sound. Jaw and throat alike find themselves enveloped, a heat and softness and moisture the likes of which he's never felt quite like this. And then it's over. Gordon's still left dizzily processing this as Benrey draws back.
"Did you just kiss me?" Gordon asks, stupidly. He touches a hand to his jaw, where there's a hint of moisture lingering.
The longer Gordon thinks about it, the more disoriented he becomes. Benrey's never kissed him like that before. All, fucking, sweet and tender. Those aren't words in his vocab. Like, yeah, sure, they've kissed before, but only in frantic, snarling bursts. This is strange and new.
But... at the same time... that's not all it is, is it. At this scale, chasteness is impossible. Gordon's so small in his hand, wet and splayed like some kind of foal, and those hands could wrap around every inch of him at once just to touch him. Lips, kissing wide swathes of skin. Hot breaths of air forced through Benrey's nose and spurring the hairs on the back of Gordon's neck to stand up. The unpleasant realization that Benrey is very, very big, and could probably just swallow Gordon whole if he so chose. You know. Normal things to worry about.
But he doesn't. He just lets Gordon go with a kiss. And Gordon flushes up to his ears, still a little dumbstruck.
> That was... new. That wasn't like the lust-fueled, rushed kisses he'd given Gordon while trying to get fingers around his cock, but it wasn't bad. It was something that scratched an itch he didn't know he had, something that made his lips tingle, something that milked an incredibly good feeling out of that foreign emotion swirling inside of him. It's intoxicating in a way human substances never could quite pull off, and Benrey feels an addiction already forming.
> It takes him a moment to realize that Gordon has spoken. It's just a tiny sound to his colossal ears, one he nearly misses from the full-body throb of lust and affection. It's not just his dick anymore. His heart is thundering against every bone, every inch of skin, and he feels almost overwhelmed. Again, like he's dying. This is new, it's intense.
> He wets his lips and furrows his brow, and with a surprising amount of clarity, rattles, "Yeah... uh. I guess I did, huh?"
> His tongue continues to run over his lips. His teeth. His eyes dart to Gordon. He's struggling to play the game properly, but there's a sudden bout of nerves involved. He can't help but wonder if this is how Gordon feels all the time, and the realization clonks him like a clawhammer.
> If this is how Gordon feels all the time, then no wonder he's always such a mess. It's latching onto his jaw and holding it shut like an invisible muzzle, it's pumping him full of drugs that don't exist, it's making him feel small despite being absolutely batshit levels of huge. And, it feels like he's learning... god, what had Alyx called it? Empathy? He's not sure how much he likes it, but it mingles well with the now-welcome warmth following the kiss in a way that feels positively, cathartically self-destructive.
> Benrey coughs. He doesn't laugh. He doesn't tease. He looks to Gordon with an intensity even he's surprised he can pull off.
> "You, uh. Like it? Wan' another one? I got, uh, plenty. Warehouses full. Best Friend Special. BOGO."
Gordon watches Benrey's tongue slide over his teeth like it's in slow motion, a reminder of what lies just underneath the surface. And he freezes under the intensity of Benrey's stare, anticipatory sweat beading on his forehead.
"What, you mean you want to..." He trails off with a nervous laugh. "C'mon, man, put me down! I know you get a kick out of, fucking, making fun of me or whatever, but I don't know what you're getting out of this!"
> Unfortunately, Benrey knows exactly what he was getting out of this. A feeling, strong and tingly that's now full of a primal need that he understands quite a bit better. And, beyond that, he was getting permission. Full permission in every movement Gordon made, every lilt of his voice, every glance up at him that was filled with a hunger that his human never got quite got the hang of voicing. It's a look that Benrey knows good and well, though, from the other time they've played their little games.
> He says nothing. He just smiles, moves Gordon to his mouth again, and pushes his lips gently against his collar bone, though it stretches down to his chest. He can feel Gordon's nipple brush against the corner of his lip, hair brushing against his mouth, the taste of the strange, glittering water and skin as he parts his lips and rumbles a laugh into Gordon.
> He pulls away. He maneuvers his human. He presses his mouth against him again, brushing his stomach with a feather-light kiss that nearly encompasses his dick. He can feel it pressing against him, feel it twitch as he pokes a tongue out between his teeth and presses the very tip into his soft flesh.
> His eyes angle up to Gordon's in a silent bid for a sign. The lick intensifies, nimbly avoiding the cock poking at the very corner of his mouth.
> He continues to say nothing. He has a feeling he doesn't have to. Gordon isn't the only one who can get away with communicating silent intent in their back-and-forth.
Of course Benrey's not gonna answer him. Of course Benrey's just gonna grin at him - like an asshole - and kiss him again, lips soft against his chest. Right over his heart. It's cartoonish, is what it is. And, unfortunately, it's also more ticklish than Gordon expects, and he snorts aloud.
"What are you doing? You're being weird, dude."
When Benrey laughs back at him, his huffed breath ruffles Gordon's body hair, and it just makes that whole "sensitivity" problem worse. Gordon tries to choke down a giggle and fails. Despite himself, it's... it's nice. He almost feels light-headed.
And then Benrey's doing it again, a soft kiss against his middle, shifting him bodily into position, and Gordon laughs again, shoving at his face. Playful. Roughhousing. Their usual.
And again. "That-- That tickles, man, c'mon!"
And again, hot against his belly. Mouth parted. Benrey's chin grazes his dick, which he'd all but forgotten about in his reflexive urge to kick Benrey away. A peal of laughter bleeds into a gasp. All the worse when Gordon feels the wet-hot tip of a tongue push into his skin.
Oh God. It feels just like he thought it would. In that dream, that fucking dream, the one he can't get out of his mind. The one that's made Gordon look twice every time Benrey grins at him, teeth sharp and glossy. He freezes, afraid even to breathe too heavily and press himself all the more against Benrey's tongue.
"What are you doing," he asks again, this time less of a playful rebuff and more of a high squeak. Then it's hotter, wetter, more of the broad side of Benrey's tongue flattening against him, and his dick twitches, hard.
Fuck.
> Alyx would be disappointed, Benrey thinks. He was doing so good and playing so nice, and now he's licking a hot, wet stripe across Gordon's belly, feeling the hairs and skin against his tongue, teeth barely grazing against sensitive flesh. But, he knows things she doesn't and will never know, about the game and the language that he and Gordon have built. He squeaks in defiance, but with a tone that shows only polite refusal: Oh, I couldn't possibly, but if you insist.
> Gordon isn't pressing against his face. He isn't pushing him away. He isn't snarling and cursing, and he hasn't made any move to extricate himself. He's parting his legs invitingly, his voice is getting higher in want and anticipation, and his dick is so hard. As hard as Benrey's, to be honest, and twitching almost as if its beckoning.
> "What'm I doing?" Benrey purrs, and he can see Gordon's body tremble at the way it rumbles through him. "M'helpin'. S'what best friends do."
> With that, his jaw opens wide, his tongue slithering out and the tip dipping lower. Low enough to catch his cock, his legs, the entire bottom of his stomach. It presses hard against Gordon and then creeps upward before coiling up politely behind Benrey's jagged smile. Drool pools at the corner of his lips and he swipes it away with his spare hand.
> He opens his mouth and dives back in again, the faintest hint of flesh and salt and soap and glittering, sweet Xen water dancing across his tongue. It fills him with another burst of primal want, though it's watching the flush on Gordon grow deeper that satiates that other, newer beast nesting inside of him.
Hot, wet, sinuous, pressing against his belly like a snake, making him gasp and jerk instinctively - Gordon's head spins on contact. And Benrey's eyes keep flicking up to meet his, like he's gauging Gordon's reaction. Looking for the go-ahead. Like-- Like they haven't been playing this fucking game for hours, glorified foreplay, you know, like he hadn't let Benrey practically feel him up behind the bleachers while he was (is) stripped down to nothing.
When Gordon's legs jerk open, though, he doesn't snap them closed again. He lets them fall open, leaving room for Benrey's face. If he wanted. To put his face anywhere around there. It's embarrassing as soon as the thought hits his conscious mind, and Gordon burns a bright red down to his shoulders.
"I-I don't know if this is what every 'best friend' is supposed to d-- oh-- oh God, Benrey--"
His voice pitches up, raw and hoarse, as Benrey's tongue flattens itself against his thighs and dick. No more games. Just what this was always building up to, this whole time, if Gordon had just paid a little more attention, pushed his glasses back up on his nose and seen the hunger in Benrey's eyes. And the full knowledge of it cracks over his skull like an egg.
His chest heaves desperately to catch his breath, but it's so much, he can't--
He can't--
Benrey's going back for more, licking him in slow, deliberate strokes and chuffing like a big cat against him, and Gordon can't fucking think. His hands clench at Benrey's, then, finding that inadequate, at his own face. His hair.
"Benrey," he chokes out again. "You're gonna-- oh-- you just gave me a bath and you're gonna get me all fuckin' nasty again, man!"
It comes out as a whine that belies just how fucking stupid he sounds.
> "I'll, uh, just bathe you again. No biggie."
> Benrey's voice is low, dismissive. There is a dark and teasing chuckle hidden just under the surface, as much of a predator as the rest of him. Waiting for a moment to strike, to snag his prey and drag it beneath the surface. But not now, not now.
> Benrey likes to play with his food.
> His alien tongue is strangely dexterous, encircling Gordon's thighs and tracing wet lines into the crease where they met his body. Faint trails of Sweet Voice-tainted saliva leave visible marks of where he's been, allowing Gordon to ogle at exactly when Benrey is doing to him even after he's moved on. Even after he's moved from one leg to the other, to his belly, to his cock.
> His own aches as he flattens his tongue against his dick and licks upwards, like an animal lapping water. His tongue curls delicately and folds back into his mouth, scraping against pointed teeth before emerging again. Hungry, tasting, teasing and growing faster, more deliberate. The taste of Gordon swirl in his mouth and he feels a heat building in his belly so hot and dangerous that it almost makes him feel ill.
> And it intensifies with every squeak Gordon makes, every pant that falls out of his mouth. It drives him onward, a leopard on the prowl, gradually cornering its next meal. His own breath is becoming ragged, his mind a messy whorl of emotions and thoughts that make time seem as though it hardly matters. He's long forgotten how long he's been teasing, eyes nearly crossed to focus on Gordon. Benrey has long been lost in the sounds he makes, the way he writhes.
> It's almost like divine inspiration when it strikes him that he should maybe push him a bit harder.
> Delicately, and uncharacteristically slow, he rolls his tongue back into his mouth. He parts his lips and fits them around Gordon's length. He can't suck, not at this size, but he hums in satisfaction, the vibrations pulsing straight from him and into his human.
> If he wasn't so afraid of doing damage, he'd have smiled.
"We don't have time to--" Gordon breaks off in a moan, that compulsive need to worry stopped in its tracks by Benrey's tongue.
He shivers from his neck down to his toes when it worms around his thighs, digging into those sensitive creases in his skin. Something like a laugh bubbles out of him, but it's also something like a whimper, with a hint of a plea.
"You can't," he gasps, fighting for breath, "you can't do this to me, man, you don't even-- ah! Fuck! Don't even know!"
Gordon turns his face to the side and buries a noise into Benrey's hand. Makes it easier to cope when Benrey licks up to his chest and swirls his tongue, his own breath loud and hot around it. Tasting everywhere he can get to. Benrey just keeps going, salivating and groaning for the sheer thrill of it, and it makes heat pulse off Gordon's skin in waves.
Faster, harder, enveloping him in ways he had only dreamed possible, something only he can do - Benrey - just for him, he doesn't do this shit with anyone else, how could he. Gordon squirms and gasps in his grip, legs straining to arch into that wet heat.
Agony creeps into his voice, low and haggard. "Benrey," he whines, "how are you so fucking... good at this, why are you even--"
He doesn't get to finish that thought before Benrey's lips wrap around him, and he hums, smug as a cat that's gotten the cream, and Gordon cries out so hard that some winged thing bursts out from a nearby outcropping. How is-- Why is he-- what does he even get out of this, he thinks wildly, brain desperately clinging to neuroticism even in the face of sexual obliteration.
> Every time Gordon shifts his weight, whines, looks away, says a word, Benrey feels that warm, weird emotion surge through him in a way that defies explanation. A feeling he thinks he can now identify, but is hesitant to verbalize, lest he somehow break the rules. But, it's so much stronger than before, especially after everything they'd been through, especially with the way Gordon is finally saying what he really means. Instead of snapping that he's being weird, he's whimpering praise and the words hang crookedly in his head like paintings in a forgotten room.
> "Benrey, how are you so fucking... good at this?"
> The boner he'd been ignoring for what seemed like millennia is now aching, and he pushes his hips against the side of the island and grinds upwards in hopes of finding something resembling relief. Unsurprisingly, what he finds is a crotch full of rocks, and he winces even as he continues to lavish Gordon with attention, breath hot out of his nose as he continues to hum and mouth at his dick. As he unfurls his tongue once more and presses it against his entire body and pushes Gordon against the palm of his hand, something akin to a wet hug. As the tip once again finds Gordon's cock and greedily laps at it, mesmerized by how prominent it is compared to the rest of his soft body.
> There is no give. Just hardness, sinking into the sensitive muscle.
> As he continues on--gently sucking on entire hands, tracing circles into the wet skin of his stomach, tasting the inside of his thighs while grazing his junk with the side of his tongue--he grunts. He feels his hips rocking just out of Gordon's sight. He clenches his free hand when its not in use pulling Gordon's legs apart for easier access or fiddling with his arm to get access to his fingers.
> It's instinctual, and impossible to ignore. He aches, and he knows Gordon can see he's losing himself to this as much as his prey.
> He waits to see if Gordon will have anything to say about it.
Gordon grabs desperately at Benrey's face, a nasal noise forced out of him on every exhale. It's more than a blowjob, it's, it's Benrey humming through his entire fucking body, okay? He can feel it down to his bones, and the inside of Benrey's mouth is achingly warm and so, so wet, and Benrey just keeps mouthing at him, tongue unfurling behind his teeth to lap up Gordon's length in a hot stripe.
It's... it's good. It's so good. Gordon closes his eyes tight and moans aloud.
Benrey moans, too, as his lips part from Gordon's dick to envelop his fingers instead. He pants through his nose and shuffles awkwardly, and the uncomfortable motion gets Gordon to open his eyes again. And he really looks, this time.
Oh.
He's hard.
Benrey's hard, and he's rocking his hips forward into the barren earth. And he's got his hands on Gordon instead of himself. Thumbing his chest and spreading him open. The burden of that knowledge makes Gordon pant like a dog.
"Oh my God," he warbles, voice cracking as Benrey draws patterns into his stomach with his tongue, "are you-- are you not gonna--"
Gordon slaps his hands over his mouth, suddenly regretting his words. No, he's not going to ask if Benrey's gonna touch his own dick, Jesus Christ. That's none of his business. What does he even care, anyway. It's not like he wants to see it. Not like he's curious about how big it would look once Benrey whipped it out. Gordon's aware of the general, you know, size and girth, proportionally, but it looks so much bigger down there, even in the confines of his work pants. It's not really fair.
And then Benrey grunts against him and flicks the tip of his tongue against his dick even faster, and Gordon can't stop the agonized whine that forces its way out of him.
> Benrey's tongue rolls up Gordon's body yet again, and again, and again. It envelops his dick, his thighs, his stomach, and everything in between. He watches, he waits, and eventually he hears Gordon's voice small and broken from his palm. It is enough to make him recoil, to open the floodgates in his mind. That warm feeling floods the inside of his skull and drowns out every thought out but lust, who is gasping for air defiantly.
> "Huh?"
> Benrey pauses, looking down at Gordon--soaked and slimy and oh-so-small--laying with his legs parted, his face flushed, his eyes locked on the very prominent erection straining against his pants. His own trail down to it and he smirks as the weight of Gordon's almost-question hits him.
> "Oh... huh? Wha? Touch myself? Is, uh, is that what you were gonna say?"
> He leans down over Gordon, tongue sticking out between sharp teeth but frustratingly distant from his body. The hand he'd once used to manhandle his human pulled away, fingers slipping into his waistband behind his belt. He sneers, but there is no actual malice behind it. Feigned mockery, just to make Gordon grow brighter. Redder.
> "You... seem to like the idea. You, uh. You... you wanna see? That what you want? Wanna see best friend Benrey's massive hog? Wanna... wanna touch it?"
> A pause, a laugh.
> "Want me to touch it? Seems you like the idea. I can do it. Just, uh, gotta say so."
Gordon mumbles a quiet plea into his hands, begging for some higher power to-- to do something. He doesn't know what. All he knows is that Benrey's sticking his tongue between his teeth, now, looking at him as if he's some problem to be solved or some piece of furniture to wrangle into place. Instead of keeping that tongue right where he had it. Gordon squeezes his eyes shut and takes a deep breath through his nose. He's not disappointed, actually. That would involve caring about what Benrey was doing at all. Which he doesn't.
"You can... you can do whatever you want, man. It's your life," he says, not meeting Benrey's eyes.
Not like he wants to... oh, God. That's Benrey's hand in his pants, isn't it? Slipping under the waistband before Gordon’s even finished his sentence. A sound escapes him that he really wishes wouldn't. He’s really into this, huh, Gordon thinks distantly, just as surprised by the realization as he has been all the previous times he’s figured out that, yes, Benrey actually is pretty hot for him. Like he’s still waiting for the Band-Aid to be ripped off, even now. Even after Benrey’s sucked his dick in a fucking dumpster. (You take what you can get.)
And-- And there it is, huh. Larger than life. Gordon swallows, a little intimidated. Then he wants to curse himself out for feeling intimidated by Benrey’s dick. Freud would have a field day with him.
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Resurrection Day
Rating: M (just a lot of angst, really. Character death, some graphic violence, and an afterglow moment)
Fandom(s): DC Comics
Ship: Jayrose, RedArse,
Linkage: Ao3
Summary: The Outlaws have always had a funny relationship with death, but when one of their own dies, they try to rise from their mistakes.
Note: Idk if this is a fic, or more my headcanons strung together. Enjoy?
-*-*
“Do you ever regret it?”
Jason only half-hears her, his eyelids heavy, and his body so relaxed with release that he might never move again. “Mm?” he mumbles, pulling his body through quicksand so he can lay on his side and face her.
Rose’s skin still glistens in the evening light, her hair mussed, and her face flushed. Her voice still throaty from moaning and screaming that Jason’s too busy reliving those last straining moments he almost doesn’t hear her again. “Do you ever regret...coming back?”
Pushing himself onto his elbows, Jason gazes down at her with a crooked grin. “To Gotham? Only when Bruce breathes down my neck.”
Snorting, Rose stretches one arm above her head, and her chest rises towards him in a way that makes him suck in his breath. Focus. She won’t meet his eyes, and her lips keep forming words she doesn't speak. “No, I mean. Do you regret being brought back?” The warmth in Jason’s belly turns to ice.
It’s all too easy to remember that god-awful laugh, and the red haze in his vision, and the blood in his eyes. The searing pain of each blow, and the ache every time he tries to breathe. The numbness that settles in when he reaches the door and finds it locked--when he hears the egg timer on Joker’s signature bomb.
Remembering what came after is harder. Running out of air. So much water, but it’s thicker than water, and he can’t get to the surface fast enough. Screaming. So much screaming. Is he screaming? Everyone’s trying to kill him. He can’t get out. He can’t get out. He can’t.
“Jason?” Rose only says his name when she’s worried. She squeezes his shoulder, digging her nails into his skin until his vision clears. “Shit. Sorry.” Sighing in frustration, she looks away. “Didn’t mean to bring all that back.”
Leaning his forehead against hers, Jason tries to get his breathing under control like his shrink taught him, but it’s easier said than done, and he fears the moment lost by the time he does. He tries to turn it into a joke, to lighten the mood. “That’s like asking if I regret being alive.” Jason huffs a laugh, but it falls flat.
Rose bites her lip so hard Jason half-expects it to bleed. She looks up at him as if she’s confessing to murder. Sorry, Asshole, I fucked up again. Guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. “I was there, you know.”
Jason’s eyes widen. “At the Lazarus Pit?” And there he is, again. Drowning.
“Yeah.” She swallows, and the next part comes out thick. “I was the one who told Ra’s Al Ghul where to find your body. He let me watch, as a thank you.”
Nowhere in that haze of memory does Jason recall seeing Rose, and that it is a whole new betrayal. “Where?” He sucks in a breath. “When?”
“Guess you weren’t happy to see me.” She snorts. “You tried to kill me. Well. Everyone, really. But you were fixated on me.” Rose looks at him, finally. “Thaila had to pull you off me before I stopped self-healing altogether.”
“And then you...left?” He’s angry, as if he has any right to be. Jason probably would’ve done the same given the circumstances.
Rose nods. “And the All-Caste offered to take you in, fix you right up. Guess it worked.” A small smile sneaks onto her lips. But it doesn’t reach her eyes.
One of Jason’s first clear memories of that time--a lonely night in his cell in The Chamber of All. Wondering what happened to her. If she had died right along with him and hadn’t been brought back. Being so angry when he got back to Gotham and she apparently had a life of her own. His memories of her, after, are a little less clear. But the distant look in her eyes tells him all he needs to know.
----
“Dude, don’t be so hard on her.” Roy polishes off yet another hot dog, licking his fingers.
“Yeah? Why’s that?” Jason kicks his heels against the edge of the rooftop. He reaches for one of the polish sausages, but his stomach gurgles in protest. Maybe not, then.
“You’ve no idea what she went through to get you back.” He turns to look at him, with those hazel eyes lingering on Jason in a way that always leaves him feeling, well, naked. Which shouldn’t be an issue right? Roy’s seen him naked plenty of times after a mission. There’s only one shower, and that apartment has one tiny ass water heater. Showering together only makes sense? At least there’s room for the both of them, just barely. It often turns into a game of Twister mixed with hot yoga. And like, there’s never been any problem, yeah?
But sometimes the way Jason catches Roy staring at him. Makes him wonder.
If he wants to stare back.
Just every once in a while.
“Like what?” They really shouldn’t have bought the entire foodcart’s stock so the Old Man Gerasimos “Jerry” Angelos could head home early. This is way too much food, even with Roy’s bottomless stomach.
“Maybe you should ask her sometime.”
“Nah, I’m good.” Jason licks his fingers. “It’s easier to not talk about it at all.”
Roy laughs. “Ah, just like how you don’t talk about stuff with anyone else?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jason gives him a playful look, but the look on Roy’s face stops him short.
Roy doesn’t answer. He reaches over instead, wiping the mustard that got caught on the side of his mouth. His fingers are so unbelievably warm, like he’s made of fire and not skin. And Jason aches when he pulls away abruptly.
“I uh, I just remembered that my laundry’s sitting in the washer. Probably stinks already.” Roy rushes off, not even bothering to wipe his fingers on a napkin.
“It always stinks, Harper!” Jason roars after him, but his friend has already shut the door.
Roy dies two days later.
------
“Would you be angry if I--we brought Roy back?” They’re on a rooftop, They’ve been waiting here for hours for Valentino’s men to show, and still nothing. Not all the Tuesday tacos in the world can make the night any less stale. Rose is on her fifth one when she gets philosophical.
Jason snorts. “You say that like it��s possible.”
Rose doesn’t say anything, and that’s what scares him.
“It’s not,” he says, louder.
“Why not?” She wipes quac from the corner of her mouth, staring at the rooftop across the street as if Roy’s gonna pop out of the skylight any second. “We brought you back.”
She can’t be serious. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Why not?”
“You don’t know what it’s like, Rose.”
Rose deadpans at him, her lips tight and firm. “I don’t?”
Jason thinks back to the first time he found her. Her right arm bent backward, her left cradling a wound that had bled out next to her. How her eyes stared out at nothing. Someone had pressed the mute button on the universe, except for the thud of his own heart. He should call someone. Bruce, 911, anyone, but his hands won’t move. “Right, sorry.”
It’s a terrible idea, they both know that, but the thought keeps eating away at him. Every time Jason lets his mind wander, it wanders to Roy--his crooked smile, his careless lean--the clumsiness that shouldn’t belong to a world-class archer, but it does. The headquarters seems so empty without Roy in it--so cavernous yet so claustrophobic like it’s going to eat Jason alive.
-----
Three days later Rose is roundhouse kicking a punching bag when Jason finds her. “We can’t use the Lazarus Pit.”
Rose stumbles, missing the bag completely and tumbling to the floor. “The fuck, Jason!” For someone who sees the future, Rose certainly didn’t hear this coming.
Jason helps her up. “We can’t use the Lazarus Pit. I don’t want Roy going through what I did.” He meets her eyes. “What we did.”
Rose nods, still breathless and annoyed in a way that makes him want to smother her with kisses. “You got another idea?” Jason swallows, squeezing the hand he’s still holding. “Jason?”
“You wouldn’t happen to know your HLA markers, would you?”
“My what?”
----
Rose hates going to the doctor. It’s rarely a problem--her regeneration usually prevents her from getting sick, and her injuries hardly last long enough. But she’s been around enough mad scientists that she practically glares holes into the nurse when he brings out the needle.
“Don’t kill him and maybe I’ll give you a lollipop afterward.” Jason elbows her other arm.
“A lollipop is not what I want to be sucking right now,” Rose fires back, looking at him instead of the needle. She relaxes slightly, and Jason kisses her, brushing her hair behind her ear.
The nurse coughs. “Alright. Easy in--and done.”
Rose swallows, taking in a deep breath. “Finally.” She closes her eyes, then stands up, rushing for the door.
Jason pauses in the doorframe, looking back at the nurse. “Uh, keep us posted.”
“We’ll call.”
----
It’s a stupid idea. The morgue doesn’t even understand why Jason Todd, adopted son of Billionaire Bruce Wayne wants to keep Roy Harper’s body in their freezer, especially when Oliver Queen seems to want it cremated as soon as possible. Bribing the owner doesn’t even work--not with Queen’s fortune also in play. So, Rose concocts some dumbass story about Harper’s biological family coming in from out of town. It’s so crazy that both Queen and the mortician fall for it.
Both Jason and Rose hold their breath when his phone rings. And Rose, and her fucking precognition, hugs him tight and fucking squeals before the nurse even says it “It’s a match.”
---
“Nervous?” Jason sits next to her, squeezing her hand as the scientist hooks the catheter tube to a vein in Roy’s chest. Jason has a hard time looking at his body, so he focuses on Rose instead.
“Fucking terrified.” Rose laughs humorously.
“Trust me, if they try anything I’ll shoot them myself.”
“You know I can hear you, right?”
-----
Rose isn’t sure what’s more surprising, the gleam in Roy’s eyes like he just woke up from a nap, or the desperate kiss Jason gives him when he takes his first breath. Or maybe it’s not surprising at all. She should have known from the way Roy always seemed to be in Jason’s thoughts--he always had a convincing lie, and maybe Rose wanted to believe him. Maybe she should feel angry--betrayed, even, but all she feels is relief.
Finally, Jason remembers they’re not alone, and he breaks off from sucking Roy’s face, his face as red as Roy’s hair.
Roy, on other hand, is not surprised at all. “Missed me that much, huh?”
#melody writes#jayrose#redarse#dc comics#jason todd#rose wilson#roy harper#jayroy#lime#been kind of a rough evening so I posted this to cheer myself up#lemme know if you like it#bi!Jason
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Yo im super sorry to hear all that hazzle happening with your old account, but if you are not too busy can i ask id/w pr/owl chubby headcanons?
First: the hassle with my initial tumblr account being shadow banned- it sucked- but I can understand. Way back when I first joined tumblr *adult* content was allowed, and I may have had my account marked as explicit. SO, when the rules changed- I think my account was then marked. Hey- rules are rules, I’m fine with that. Just wish I had the ability to easily delete all pieces/change the settings easier to get it un-shadow banned. It was just easier to create a new one and start over. I do mind the new rules now- so if any tumblr mod sees this- I wasn’t evading a ban to keep it up or anything- I just wanted my art posts to be searchable and all
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Now on to the better part. Chubby Prowl. (may not be completely cannon- rusty on some sections that happened in the comics. While I am reading tfwiki- not going to go overboard with being exact)
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More often than not, I envision Prowl to busy/focused on his work to care about creature comforts like eating tasty food or to even really enjoy a meal. It’s more like he would eat just to remain functional. The more time you spend refueling, or sleeping, or relaxing- the less time to get things done that need to get done! And I do think Prowl is very dead-set on deadlines and completion of tasks (Maybe not as bad as Ultra Magnus- but pretty darn close)
Naturally, when Prowl’s mind was taken over by an insecticon and no one noticed the difference, Prowl was a bit down in the dumps- and who can blame him? Slag, he did some rotten things under the mind-control of a ‘Con- and no one noticed! Talk about feeling bad about yourself.
SO, did he eat out of depression?
No.
Hold your horses people. Not everyone eats because they are sad. Prowl was not really given the chance since the whole Prow-astator spiel picked up. Yeah, so this poor bloke not only suffered mind control under Bombshell, but then was forced to combine with the Constructicons. You can imagine how happy Prowl was with that.
If not- he wasn’t happy. There, spelled it out. Lol.
Once that spiel was taken care of, and Prowl was free from the gestalt bond, he was able to perform his life-long goal of…. Paperwork… or whatever it was that he felt so important to overfocus on.
Or so he thought.
Turns out, one thing not many people know about the Constructicons is that they are cling-ons. No, not the Star Trek characters… Cling-ons is a term I use for people that literally/figuratively cling on to something or someone. Get it? Cling -ons? Get it? So, the Constructicons didn’t care if the gestalt bond was broken- their minds were still infatuated with Prowl.
And they doted upon him any chance they got. At first, they offered to help with the paperwork, tidying up his quarters and such (yes pervs, they offered *other* services as well, but I see Prowl as kind of a prude, so wondering hands were slapped away) Naturally, Prowl was like ‘alright free help!’ But then got annoyed with some aspects.
Like the construction bot’s over concern when he worked one minute overtime. Or didn’t recharge long enough. Or go on vacations. Or polish his frame to a blinding shine. Or fully stretch himself out. Or watch the end of movies. Or take long deep breathes. Or cough just right-OK OK- I’ll get to the good stuff. Or treat himself to nice, nutritious, and delicious home cooked meals.
Turns out, another fact overlooked about the brutish Constructicons was their joy of cooking. So, during one of their tantrums of Prowl eating disgusting nuked meals that tasted like rubber and seat cushions, they decided to plan a good meal for Prowl. AND FORCE HIM TO ENJOY IT. The second part was the harder part.
They only managed to pull it off by excessive whining and pleading (one even got on the floor and convulsed in a full blown toddler tantrum- it was Bonecrusher) and promised to be quiet after Prowl ate their food.
With a scowl on his face, Prowl sat down at the table (a chair pushed in by Hook, while Scavenger placed a cloth napkin on his lap and another got to uncover the dish) (( Yes, they fought over who would get to do what)) Mixmaster attempted to feed him, but naturally Prowl hollered and made that Constructicon cry.
But all it took was that one bite. That one bite was so flavorful, so tasty that Prowl instantly fell head over heels over their cooking. And no, it wasn’t poisoned or anything like that. There was no brainwashing this time. Prowl eagerly consumed the meal and even smiled upon discovering there was dessert- of which he happily ate. Then complained that he ate too much.
He wasn’t fat yet.
So, now that the green men knew Prowl loved their cooking- they made it their goal to prepare all his meals for him. Breakfasts consisting of sweet baked energon goodies were always laid out for him on the table when the black and white Autobot appeared from his sleeping quarters.
Lunches were packed for him. They had an assortment of finger foods like freshly baked energon bread slathered in rich cyber-jellies, zirconium crunches, and assortment of sweet min-cakes, doughnuts (LOL), and fresh energon fruit just picked up from the Cybertronian version of a farmers market. Also included were an assortment of energon drinks- some flavored on the citrusy side, some on the spicey side. One time there was even an intoxicating drink in there, but Prowl scolded them for doing so, making another ‘Con cry (this time it was Hook). But there was always a wide assortment for their chosen one to pick at all day.
Once Prowl retreated home, a full course meal would be waiting for him. And if he was really late, the Constructicons would be angry because their meal cooled off. But he would be beckoned to the table- and Prowl would resist less and less each time and seated in front of an appetizer. The ‘Con who made it would describe what it was and what was in it. Often the appetizers would consist of things like fried energon rings, little energon rolls filled with peat moss and cyberfish… just a taste of something, well, tasty.
Second dish would be some kind of soup. Prowls favorite was a wonton soup made with fresh lithium noodles in a broth seasoned with calcium, zinc, and barium. Naturally, he got that soup quite often, but it was changed up. Sometimes it was more of a peat barely flavored with specks of agate, or more of a stew. Each tasted amazing!
Then came the main course. Most times all the Constructicons would be talking over each other to try to explain the tastes, aromas, textures, and ingredients, but Prowl just tuned them out and would start eating. And the dishes never disappointed. The food tasted amazing- like there was a party in his mouth.
Last but not least: dessert. By this time, the “cons were usually jittery with excitement. Fresh out of the oven titanium pies was definitely a hit with Prowl, so was the warm, moist and gooey oil cakes. And the Constructicons squealed with joy whenever Prowl would hum at how delicious the treats were.
And if Prowl ever left any food behind, they would gripe and moan. But as time went on, Prowl left less and less behind. He would gripe of belly aches more and more- and eventually he would allow one of the ‘Con’s to rub his stuffed belly as it grumbled and churned. While Prowl would never admit this out loud, the belly messages felt good. Soothing. Relaxing. Except for when hands would try to wonder too far down south- they’d still get slapped away.
And Prowl’s body soon grew. First was the starter belly, but that soon progressed into more of a pouch that became both ample and soft. His love handles were a favorite to be rubbed by Hook, where as Bonecrusher loved the part of the belly that sagged over his hips- claimed it was the most squishiest. Scavenger preferred the top crest of the belly- saying nothing beats a round roll right after one’s chest plating. Mixmaster and Longhaul didn’t really care as long as they got to molest- I mean, message the belly.
Chub accumulated over more of Prowl’s once lean body. His thighs plumped up nicely and rubbed together as he walked/waddled and, in Mixmaster’s words- his aft grew quite thic. Turns out, Mixmaster was a butt man, and loved to squeeze at the chub there. And slap it to watch it jiggle.
As time went by, Prowl grew lax in his prudeness, and allowed the Constructicons to carry him back to his berth to pass out in his food comas- which happened on a more regular basis. And instead of just one lucky ‘Con getting to rub him- it was all five. Yes, they fought over who got to rub his belly. But they would give their Prowl a full body message as the ‘Bot would drift off into sleep. Chubby thighs would be pawed at, arm flab tickled, rolls would be prodded, all while sweet little nothings were cooed. The night usually ended with Prowl being lulled to sleep by the sound of five engines purring in such a soothing, rhythmical tune.
The next day? It would all be repeated.
And soon, Prowl even let the Constructicon’s aid him with bathing, though it could only ever be one due to his size.
Yes, they fought over who got to bathe their beloved Prowl’s rounder, softer, and squishier body.
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Beyond Words (4/?)
The Big Sweep
Eight years have come and gone, and it seems that everyone has moved on; Hannah has a new life with a Baby upstate, and even Ray found a bit of happiness in his life, but where does that leave Adam? Still in the same apartment with the same problems. Now, feeling adrift in the stagnation he finds himself in, Adam will try to break old habits and see if he can grow-up. Something easier said than done, that is until he meets you.
This is a bit of a post series/retcon picking up from where Adam’s story left off in Season 6 episode 8 titled “What will we do this time about Adam?”
Adam Sackler x Reader
4.5K Words
Warning: Angst, break up, Depression, cursing.
It’s been a week of secret apartment hunting and script reading for any new possible project, but his efforts finally bear fruit. ‘Fucking Ray. Thank god he came through’ Adam thought as he was one the line of his favorite deli just a few blocks away from his apartment. He shifts anxiously as he rehearses in his mind what he wants to say to Jessa when the moment comes.
It’s been a week of secret apartment hunting and script reading for any new possible project, but his efforts finally bear fruit. ‘Fucking Ray. Thank god he came through’ Adam thought as he was one the line of his favorite deli just a few blocks away from his apartment. He shifts anxiously as he rehearses in his mind what he wants to say to Jessa when the moment comes.
‘Jesus. Fuck’ He fixes his hair fidgeting (well dreading, really) the confrontation to come. Her clinginess hasn’t stopped in the least, wanting to go out together, stay in together, have sex in their old haunts; she’s even been texting him more frequently. It’s not that he didn’t like the attention (or the sex), but Jessa’s always been aloof, and independent. If anything, Adam is the clingy one; things used to be so easy before but this change in dynamic was a bit jarring to him, to say the least.
‘She’s just making things harder’
He was a thousand miles away when he finally sat down, and in true Adam fashion, he doesn’t eat, so much as he scarfs down his meal; six eggs (four of them just the whites), and two slices of turkey bacon. It’s while drinking what’s left of his coffee that his phone alerts him of a new incoming text. Fishing it out of his pocket and saw that he had three texts; two from Luke, letting him know that he got the callback for the Jim Anderson play with the details of where it’s going to be, the other asking if he had finished reading another script that he’d sent him.
‘Yesssssss!!’ He cheered on the inside, holding in his urge to scream it out loud. Finally! At least some things were looking up.
The other text was from Jessa, making fun about one of her classmates, with a rather mean spirited snarky remark.
He scoffs a bit after reading it, her smarmy wit coming through her words. It's moments like these that remind him of their friendship, and their shared chemistry. The thought only served to churn his stomach, bringing to the forefront of his mind what he’ll tell her.
‘ “Look Jessa, I’ve been doing some introspection lately, and I’ve come to the conclusion that we’re better as friends and that I need some time apart” Too formal? No….Shit! “Jessa let’s be real, you would’ve left me in a few months anyway, so I’m doing us both a favor” ..’
“Motherfuck!” He hissed under his breath.
He looked at the time in his phone and got up. He has to get going, not wanting to be late to meet his building manager.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The building itself wasn’t too far, it was still in Brooklyn, not like he could afford anything more upscale, and even then, rents in the boroughs were outrageous; gentrification saw to that. But for all the artisanal ice cream boutiques and organic green tea, there’s a charm in Brooklyn that has captured his heart; for now, this was home. This place has seen his loves and loses and has seen him at his worst and at his best.
Adam walks up to the front steps where a woman is sitting on the stoop, seemingly waiting; looking at her phone as she does so. She looks up and sees him in the eye, causing him to look away awkwardly to avoid her thinking he was a creep or something, but her gaze was more curious than anything.
She tilts her head sideways to get a better look at him. “Adam?”
‘Do I know her? Oh fuck, have I fucked her?’ he thinks, his mid going through the roster of girls to see if he knew her from somewhere. “Yeah?” he asked cautiously after his mind came up blank. He doesn’t know her....at least he thinks he doesn’t know her.
“I’m Jaime. I’m the building manager? My dad probably told you about me when he showed you the apartment.” She explains, hopefully jogging his memory, as she gets up to face him.
“You’re Jaime?” He asks, taking a good look at her. Her hair is long and dark up, reaching up to her waist; her body, clothed in oversized jeans and a black tank top, is skinny but not too skinny as to make her look malnourished, her complexion is dark, coupled with deep brown eyes, a wide nose full glossy lips and a beauty mark above her left eyebrow.
“Yeah, were you expecting anyone else?” she smirked haughtily at him, making him to quickly reply out an answer to avoid any embarrassment.
“No! I just thought that I’d be meeting your dad.” he corrects himself and holds out his hand to shake her hand in greeting. She responded in kind, extending her hand to shake his. Her hand was adorned by wide silver rings in her fingers, her nails were decorated with an orange nail polish that was mostly chipped away.
“He got held up, asked me to do it. Legally I can, as the building manager. So, you ready to sign?”
“Uh, Yeah.” he answers her as she gestures for him to follow her, leading him up the stairs to what will be his new apartment.
Climbing three flights of stairs, standing in front of a door marked ‘3A’, Jaime places the key in the lock and opens the door before gesturing for him to go in.
The apartment itself was big, or big for New York standards, at least, It was a one bedroom apartment, complete with a separate living room, the bathroom was down the hallway, and with a small kitchen right next to what could be converted to a small dining room. It suited him. The apartment was eerily reminiscent of the one he lives in now, the most remarkable difference is that the kitchen has a separate countertop for a bar, not to mention that the living room was roomier, with a tall window providing the space with a good amount of natural light.
It was thankfully in his budget, and that’s what mattered to him the most, nevermind the fact that he basically found an affordable apartment with this much space; which to be clear, is nothing short of impossible.
The pair start to walk into the empty living room space. “You’re lucky you were able to snag this place. We haven’t gotten the word out yet, or anything about this place. So you got the exclusive first look.” Jaimie mentions as she walks to the kitchen counter, grabbing the papers and the pen.
Not knowing how to respond to her and him having his own special brand of social skills , Adam just answers with a simple “Yeah.”
“If anything you’re lucky you know Ray, being on the city council makes you meet a lot of people in the community; and stick-in-the-mud Ray knows a lot of people.” She smiles at him.
“Yeah well we’ve been friends for a while, now.” He replies to her with a polite smile back.
“Yeah. Anyway, this is the contract.” Jaime changes the direction of the conversation to the issue at hand, sliding the contract file in his direction with a pen in her hand.
“Sign here, and here….I need initials here.” She directed him as he started to sign the papers, trying to keep up with her quick directions.
Once it was finished, she handed him a stack of papers. “Okay, so this is your copy of the lease, and these are your keys. Heads up.” She dangled the keys before throwing them in his direction for him to catch, moving towards the exit to leave to the privacy of his new place. Stopping at the door, Jaimie looks back to face him as he turns around to face her.
“So you already know my name. Rent’s due on the first. If you need anything, my apartment’s on the first floor; apartment ‘1B’. If you need me but I’m not in, just slip a note under my door. ‘Kay? Any questions?”
“Uh, nope.”
“Then it’s a pleasure to meet you Adam Sackler. Welcome to the building.” With that she gave him a small smirk and waved goodbye, shutting the door behind her on her way out; leaving him alone with his thoughts in his new apartment.
It’s official now, he can’t put it off anymore. He’s following the advice Ray gave him; hell, even Josh said it. Here, in the emptiness of his new space, in the bright white light of day, he finally sees what he’s been avoiding for so long.
He loved her, he cared for her, but was he ever in love with her?
He was just as quick to get back to her as soon as he realized that things with Hannah wouldn't work out. He quickly left Jessa once he found out that Hannah was pregnant and….’I don’t know.’ ‘Maybe I’m with her ‘cause it’s easy...I’m so fucked up!’ Adam furiously scrubbed his face with both hands, breathing deeply and exhaling through his nostrils.
Alone, in the middle of the empty apartment, bathed in the light from the windows, he knew. It was just like that time; he knew what he had to do.
It was time to rip the band-aid off.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Later in the day, after doing a few errands he had to do for the new place, Adam was standing outside of his (old?) apartment building. Looking at the window of the apartment, he takes a deep breath, gathering his bravery to face the situation.
He makes the journey up the stairs, and opens the door. The apartment is empty, judging by the hour, Jessa’s probably still in class. Taking advantage of the circumstances, he starts packing up his things; his mind making a list of the things to take with him .
‘My clothes, books. It's a good thing I don’t have a lot of stuff. I can buy food, and I already got a bed taken care of. I’m gonna have to come back for my work out stuff, my weights and the bench at least.’
Little by little Adam starts to take his favorite things, taking his time to consider what to leave behind. A practice he’s by now well-used to.
The front doors opens and in walks Jessa, her hair in a bun, wearing a loose red tee shirt with denim blue high waisted jeans, the bags in her hand suggest she bought something.
“Hey you in?!” Her voice rings through the small apartment, reaching Adam’s ears, causing him to freeze, inwardly flinching in anticipation of what’s to come. ‘Time to face the fucking music. *sigh*’ He moves out of the bedroom and into the kitchen to find her putting things away on the fridge.
“Heeeeeey.”
“I brought some groceries since the fridge was empty.” she told him casually, her head buried inside the refrigerator as she took things from the bag and placed them inside.
“You have a good day?” His stance is awkward, his hands behind his back as he debated on how to best start the conversation; break it to her while hoping to god that she takes it well.
“Not bad, Nancy is a fucking cunt, but that’s just her. Either way…” Jessa approaches him, pulling him for a kiss, smiling as she does so “She’s just irritates me, so...how was your day?” Her hands run through the familiar course of his chest sweetly. A small shrug moved his shoulders nonchalantly as he looked at her. Was this really it? “It was okay, I did a few errands.”
Hearing this her brow furrowed a bit, looking into his eyes as he stared at her. “You did errands, what errands? Didn’t you have an audition?”
“Yeah, look can we talk?” He asks as he nervously fidgets, gesturing for them to sit down on the couch. If there’s something that can be said about Adam is that he’s as subtle as a hammer.
Sitting on the coffee table in front of her, he nervously passes a hand through his hair, trying to find a way to get what he needed to say out. Jessa looked at him curiously, waiting for him to talk but finding herself growing impatient as the seconds passed.
“So, what did you want to talk about?” She urges calmly.
Adam’s forehead wrinkled in concentration, both of his hands pressed against his face as his fingers covered his eyes. “This isn’t something that I wanna have to tell you. I know this isn’t fair to you, especially after the whole thing with Hannah.”
“I’ve been doing some introspection, or whatever, and um...I’ve been going to meetings…”
“You’ve been going to meetings?” She interrupted, concern etched on her her face as her brows lifted before furrowing in thought.
“Yeah.”
“Well. Have you been drinking?”
“No!” He answered urgently. “I just…” Adam’s lips tense into an outstretched line for a brief moment while he finds a way to verbalize his thoughts.
“I’ve been going to meetings and taking time to think….And…” A few seconds pass. “Fuck” he whispered under his breath in a sigh. “And I’ve come to the conclusion that I; that WE..need time apart.” His eyes searched hers for any indication of understanding or sympathy, but they found nothing. Her gaze was blank as she was deep in thought as he spoke. “ Look, this has nothing to do with Hannah. Whatever she and I had. It’s over, it’s finished.” His baritone voice is soft and calm as he tries to sound as serious as possible. In his mind he is an adult trying to have a serious conversation with his partner. Gone is the lovable boyish demeanor he usually carried; replaced with a grim faced man as he leans over to look at her. His elbows rest on his knees and clasps his hands together, giving away his anxiety.
“I never told you how sorry I am for that...and I hurt you. It’s just that, I don’t know if it was filming the movie or if it was just life in fuckin’ general, but I was reminded of what Hannah and I had. I felt it, so I felt that there was too much history there to not try and set things right. To help her, and be there for her.” The sound of his voice reverberated through the small apartment as he looked at the floor. “ But we’re too different now and want different things. And...Now I feel like I need some space to figure shit out alone. Not just for me, because I really do care about you, Jessa.”
Jessa looks at the ground in silence, not wanting to look at him in the eyes and see her worst nightmare.
“I’m gonna be moving out, take the time to focus on my life. You can stay here, keep most of the stuff. I’ll still pay for your classes. I meant what I said.”
Jessa nods slowly, pursing her lips while processing his words.
“Okay...if that’s how you feel.” Her tone is a bit above a whisper, feigning understanding in her short words. She shrugs her shoulders and crosses her legs on the couch with a nonchalant expression. Like everything else, nothing fazes her.
Adam scoffs at her response, unable to believe how she can be so calm while he was essentially breaking up with her. No, he saw what this was. “ Oh, come the fuck on Jessa, this is just like last time. Do you seriously not give a fuck? I know you feel something. Get angry; hit me, throw something at me. For fuck’s sake, it isn’t good to bottle everything in...Just tell me how you feel.”
A deep sigh went through her nose, her eyes showed that something was beneath the surface as she shakes her head slightly and looks at him. “What do you want me to say? You haven’t done anything wrong. You’re communicating; and if this is how you feel, then there’s no point in fighting against it.”
‘Un-fucking-believable.’ Adam moves his left hand towards his cheek, lightly scratching at the hairs in his stubble. “That doesn’t mean that you’re not feeling anything; that your feelings aren’t valid.” He lets out a breath of frustration as he realizes that she put up her walls to him and she won’t budge. ‘The hitting and screaming would’ve been better.’ “Fine.”
Keeping with her attitude, Jessa clicks her tongue and leans back lazily before asking the dreaded question. “So when do you move out.”
“I was thinking about leaving today.”
“Oh...so you have a place to stay?”
“Yeah, I’m good. My stuff’s mostly packed, and I’ll come back for the rest later...But I wanna make sure you’re okay.”
“Adam, stop worrying! You’ve done nothing wrong. If you feel you have to do this; you gotta do what you gotta do.” A sardonic smile graces her face. She makes everything sound so simple; black and white.
He gently grabs her tattooed wrist in his large hand and looks deeply into her green eyes, trying to find a way to get through to her, to really talk to her.
“Hey..I still care about you. okay?” He told her gently, almost as if she were a child.
“Yeah.” Her response was short and curt.
Her walls remain up; impenetrable in their might as she refuses to show him, to show the world an ounce of vulnerability. A defense mechanism that took years in perfecting. An aloof facade she shows the world.
Jessa moves to get up, leaving him alone. Adam’s well aware that this was just a front, Jessa hasn’t changed,. He couldn’t tell how bad it was, but he’s doing this for her too. He knew it’d be worse if he stayed.
No other words were said as she sat crossed legged in their bed, smoking a cigarette while he finished packing. In the back of her mind she wonders if this is what being in a relationship is really like; being off and on, having that person come in and out of your life….It’s what her father did. ‘No’ She knows that’s not true. She’s seen people get married, have families and be happy. And besides, Adam’s not remotely like her father, he’s not like the previous men in her life. He’s different.
She moves to the kitchen, pouring herself a glass or orange juice, pretending that nothing is wrong, desperately trying to ignore his presence. She found it unbearable to watch as he left her for a second time. This time she’s more aware of her feelings for him, and she dreads what will become of them, of her while watching Adam go in and out of the apartment; getting his things downstairs.
He tried to be as quick as possible; throwing this mindlessly into garbage bags, making sure he took only what was important to him.
The hardest part about breaking up is trying to leave and stay on good terms. And he’s attempting to do just that. He figured that if he could do it with Hannah, maybe it was possible with Jessa.
Adam reached into his pocket and fished out his keys, he placed them on the counter beside the sink.
“You take care of yourself, okay?” He said awkwardly, looking at her one last time. His mouth is etched in a pout and his eyes are sullen at her lack of reply, but he still waits a few seconds for her, almost as if he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. She didn’t say anything, she didn’t even look at him as he made his way out of the apartment.
Closing the door behind him, Adam takes a moment to just stand there, his mouth still set in a pout, his brows furrowed as he feels the weight of what’s happened.
Both lovers stand on either side of the closed door, each hoping that the other would take a step forward to open the door; to go back to the other, but neither one does. Adam stays there, feeling the guilt over what he’s done slowly spread; lamenting not just the loss of his lover, but the loss of his best friend.
‘It had to be done. There’s no point in staying anymore.’
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Inside of the apartment, Jessa just stood there, staring at the door; willing him to come back to her. Her face morphs from boredom to one of pure heartbreak. Her eyes start to water as her breathing changes to an erratic pace.
In the cold emptiness surrounding her, she couldn’t pretend anymore. Her mask vanishes, revealing the abandoned girl underneath, watching as her friend walked out of their home and her life.
This time she can’t pretend that it doesn’t hurt; can’t deny the devastation she feels as her world blurs. She places the palm of her hands over her eyes as the tears overflow.
‘He’s done this before, and he came back; he’ll do it again.’ She reasons in her desperation, clinging to the idea that Adam will be back, that this is just a pattern. Because the alternative would be to accept that he left her for good.
‘Fucking Hannah!’ As she cries her thoughts become more chaotic. ‘Don’t go. Don’t do this to me.’ Her inner voice cries as she slides slowly towards the floor, bringing her knees towards her chest.
‘This is just how he is.’ She reasoned, still expecting him to come back, her mind repeating his last words over and over. He did say he cared about her, he still loved her; but as she continued to reason his return, a small part of her feared she was just clinging to an empty promise, that she was stupidly holding on to hope...and that he really did leave her.
The silence inside the apartment is maddening, the space is cold; isolated from the world filled only with her small cries.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He should be used to moving, considering how often he did in the past eight years, but no, it was always a bitch. And the worst part about it? Doing it because of a break up. To say that it was awkward was an understatement, but he needed to end things well off with Jessa. God knows he’s ran into people from his past before enough times to know better. New York may be populated by millions of people, but it can turn into a very small place, when Karma feels like it. It’d be worse if he didn’t do it this way, he’s sure of it.
After getting the last of his things upstairs, he starts unpacking bit by bit. He doesn’t have a refrigerator yet, or a bed for that matter; those come in tomorrow, but Adam has been through worse, and one day without furniture hardly phases him. That being said sleeping on the floor isn’t something he’s looking forward to. Plus, this is what friends are for isn’t it? ...to crash on their couch when needed?
Adam takes his phone out, scrolling through the few contacts saved in it. He could ask Ray; it wouldn’t be the first time he’d stay at his place, especially after a breakup. He could also ask Josh, he had offered his couch to let him crash before; maybe the offer’s still on the table.
‘Screw it.’
He hits on Josh’s contact and places the device next to his ear, waiting for a response on the other side of the line.
“Hey.” Josh’s deep voice sounds through the phone’s speaker.
“ Heeeey...listen, I got a favor to ask, if it’s not too much trouble, or whatever.” Adam started nervously, scratching his head as he talked.
“Yeah, man. Shoot.”
“I broke up with Jessa.” He blurted out. “I moved out.”
There was a slight silence on the line before Josh responded. “Well, shit. Do you need a place to stay? Until you find something?”
“I already got a place. I just need a place to crash until I can get the bed and fridge brought in here.”
“ Well you’re in luck, then. I’m actually on my way back from work. I gotta stop to pick up a few things and then I’m headed home.” Josh explained in his easy-going tone; like nothing bothers him at the moment. “ I’ll let Vanessa know; she’s coming over tonight.”
Adam hesitated “ I don’t wanna shit on your plans.”
“ Oh, fuck off. You’re not. Dude, trust me, Ness loves you. She’d be pissed if I didn’t help out. My sofa es su casa.”
Even though Josh can’t see him, Adam smiles at his friend’s words; his teeth peeking out from his lips and the corners of his eyes wrinkle as he does so. “ Yeah, okay. Just let me know when you’re at home. Text me or whatever.”
“You got it. Tonight we’re eating homemade Mexican food.”
“Yeah, Thanks.”
“Alright, see ya.”
With that, Adam hung up, comforted in the knowledge that he’ll be able to sleep in a comfortable, and most importantly cushioned, tonight. At least now he had a place to call his, and by pure stroke of luck, the apartment’s rent wasn’t as high as it could be. He’ll furnish it, little by little. He lives in New York, so someone’s bound to not want a couch somewhere. That leaves the matter of his kitchen. He’d have to buy glasses, plates and food, to at least have the very basics.
‘A bookshelf in the living room. I’ll put my bench in the bedroom...clothes go in the closet, I gotta get a chest or something with drawers..’
He turns to pick up the trash bags storing his clothes, taking them through the small hallway towards his bedroom closet. He’d have to do laundry before the end of the week, he reminded himself as he realized that he was in such a rush to pack everything that he didn’t think that some of his shirts in the bag used to be strewn across the floor of the apartment and stank of sweat.
He spent the next few hours doing what he can, organizing his clothes between what’s clean and what was to be laundered, he took his time to make sure everything was arranged to his liking; a far cry from how he was living 8 years ago. Back when he was an aimless mess living in an apartment cluttered with tools and random pieces of reclaimed wood; when he would rather fuck around with no strings attached than be emotionally vulnerable with someone.
To Adam, it seemed like a lifetime ago. Gone was the aloof fuckboy with an awkward haircut and no direction. Now in his place stands a more empathetic and responsible man.
His thoughts were interrupted as he heard his phone come to life, sounding an alert to let him know he had just received a text and prompting him to look for it. Reaching for his back pocket, he fishes out his phone to see a message from Josh came in saying ‘Just got in.’ on the lit up screen. He’d finish unpacking later; now he was hungry, and Mexican seemed like just the thing…
——————————————————
Hey guys, I’m baaaaack!!!! :D
2020 has been a hell of a year, but I still wanted to end it on a good note. So here we have a short but sweet chapter where Adam wants to leave Jessa to focus on himself, but he knows how fragile and lonely she can be and tries to do it gently....Does it work? We'll have to find out. Safe to say, Jessa will be a reoccurring guest star on this show, so we’ll see how Adam handles this and how he manages to move on. So, leave a comment and let me know what y’all think.
Mucho Love and and a happy New year!!😊
Xoxo Selene R
Tag list for some friends (let me know if you’d like to be added)
@kowalskibro-adamdriverblog @tsarinastorm @alexdaleks @thrivingamidstchaos @klauscarolove @misskitred @ah-callie @sarcasticbitch @jynz-andtonic @oh-adam @commanderbensolo @kylos-wren @adamsnackler @patersonn-kylo @adamsnacc-kler @ellelaconiwrites @that-only-exists-in-my-mind @ktellmeastory @fallinallinmendes @noocturnalchild
#Beyond Words#adam sackler#girls hbo#adam sackler fanfiction#adam sackler x reader#adam sackler/reader#adam sackler/you#adam sackler x you#reader insert#adam/jessa#adam/reader#adam driver#readerchan#fem reader#fix it fic#fix it#girls fanfiction#retcon#post series
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Why I'm Learning Russian
It's been a while since I was last here on this site, and since I seem to be back-back for good(?), I figured I'd update everyone following me on what's going on right now.
And I figured I'd make a separate post talking specifically on why I've chosen to learn Russian (instead of Serbian).
First off, I still wish I could learn Serbian due to family reasons, but there's a severe lack of sources for me to use. Duolingo ain't got shit regarding the language. I wouldn't have cared if it was listed simply as Croatian! I just wanna learn the language!
Thanks to the whole anti-communist propaganda in the states, many Americans (whether by ignorance alone, by design, or some combination thereof) would hear a Slavic language and get pissy. At least this is what I think is likely the reason behind why it can be so hard in some areas to find just books on a Slavic language. If you're lucky to find any, it's always Russian. The area I live in has plenty of Polish, Russian, and Serbian populations (albeit descendants of immigrants, but you get the idea). You're think they'd have a decent amount of books at the local library. The best I could find was a book meant to teach how to translate written Russian (apparently you have to have a ridiculous aptitude for high-difficulty languages or have to already be familiar a bit with it?) and a Polish For Dummies book. That's it.
There aren't any community colleges nearby that I can find that event teach foreign languages at all (this is a right-wing-heavy area, so surprise-surprise).
But in this country as a whole, the only Slavic language I can find that you will commonly find in colleges and universities if any Slavic language at all is supported is Russian.
So that's reason number one: accessibility.
Another reason is that there's quite a bit of stuff happening in the country that due to Americans not expecting to take on foreign languages on a regular basis, let alone a complex one, the ruling class could easily claim what Russians are saying whether it's a soundbyte, a video with audio, or signs and posters and such. They're relying on the American people to be completely ignorant of the language so they could spin whatever they wanna say however they need it to say. (This would largely be fux news' area of expertise, as they've been doing so recently with the protests in Cuba by not only showing protests that occurred in Florida and passing them off as Cuban protests in Cuba, but they straight-up blurred out posters because someone might know how to speak Spanish.)
On top of this, there's something boiling in Russia, so if the Russian people need help and ask Americans for advice, it would be nice if some Americans spoke their language, instead of relying on Russians (and anyone not American in general) to know English to some extent.
So there's reason number two: avoiding misinformation and misunderstandings.
I don't have to tell you twice that climate change is happening right now and that we may not see the climates of many regions go back to normal within our own lifetimes even if we did everything right.
However, worst case scenario, what if we were too late? Where in the would could remain habitable for humans? There's Greenland, Canada, Antarctica (which would be warred over for territory because of course it would), and then there's Russia. Russia is semi-landlocked thanks to the arctic ice on the northern coasts, but once that melts, they would easily be able to trade by sea. They also have a lot of currently uninhabited land that, in this worst case scenario, would be thawed out and quite fertile and suitable for agriculture, especially for the potential billions (remember, we're passed the 7 billion population point) that would emigrate just to be able to survive. This means that if you wanted to move to Russia, it's probably best to learn the language.
That's reason number three: it will be the largest habitable landmass on the planet if we cannot bring about a chance of reversal to climate change.
The last reason is due to the possibility that if I went back to school for what I ultimately want to be (paleoecologist), my interests (pleistocene ecology) may lead me to digging up frozen carcasses out of the Russian permafrost. There's also an attempt in a Pleistocene Park in the making right now (all that's missing is the mammoth which we will never successfully clone) to bring back fauna we still have that once existed there to help with the land's ecosystem in the Russian steppe. And so far, it's succeeding in its goals. And as a paleoecologist, this would be right up my alley. But knowing the language would be incredibly helpful, too!
Russian isn't actually hard for the reasons many "top x videos" claim it to be. The alphabet isn't that hard, to be honest. It's the cases, which is where I'm stuck at right now.
Duolingo is not a good way to learn a language, as they do not teach grammar or cultural context. The app has become a game that makes you rely on memory and hopes you'll catch on.
No other apps that I have found will teach the grammar in a beginner-friendly way for free, either. I'm poor, and can't afford this shit, so I'm hoping to borrow that library book I mentioned earlier (now that I've learned the alphabet quite nicely) might be able to give me a better idea in a way that I can best understand it.
For now, I'm focusing on keeping up my practice as well as building a nice vocabulary bank. That's going to make learning the cases much easier. The good news is my husband is also interested in learning the language and even he learned the alphabet without much of an issue. So I have someone to practice with.
Hilariously, like with Spanish, I have a problem with a foreign language... I can read it fine, I can hear it okay, but writing it? Eh.. And speaking it from memory? Holy shit I struggle. But my husband hasn't had much of a chance to really practice thanks to his job, so maybe it's the lack of practice?
Regardless, learning independently is going to be a nice primer for when (maybe if, who knows) we can finally go back to college once we've moved with my parents (long story) because the university in the area they want to move to does offer Russian. If things go well, I plan to take more than 2 levels (the university requires all students to take at least 2 levels of a foreign language).
So yeah. That's why I'm learning Russian. It's actually really fun, and I do watch vlogs from Russians on YouTube so I get a better understanding of their culture, too. I'm jealous they don't have this fucked up concept of a "lawn" like America does. All it is with the houses and dachas is native plants and fruits and veggies they decide to grow. Lucky...
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Post-calamity Champions, and it's Link telling everyone everything he did like helping to build Tarrey Town, getting korok poop, moving a guardian to make a spaceship, buying stuff from Kilton
@abi-potato-master thank u for the request! hope this is close to what u were lookin for :)
*****
The rebirth of Hyrule begins with a sleepover.
It’s a sleepover for the new champions, in a part of the castle that’s mostly stable, in the room big enough to fit Sidon and Yunobo and various other guests.
Riju brought three guards, two of which have joined Teba’s wife, Saki, while Buliara stands guard outside. Suki is knitting a scarf for Yunobo, who came alone and has never left the heat of the volcano and is freezing, even under every blanket they could manage to find. He sits with Gaddison and Dunma, two Zoran guards brought to protect Prince Sidon, who sits with Riju and Zelda with a half asleep Link draped in his lap. Teba sits on a nearby windowsill with Tulin, explaining constellations in a gentle voice.
They’re all together in a large circle about the room, chatting in smaller groups about various things. Saki and the guards about motherhood, Dunma and Gaddison lying on their stomachs and explaining to a buried-in-blankets Yunobo the uses of Luminous Stones, (he informs them of how it tastes, which is apparently not very good). Sidon gently braids Link’s hair while he sleeps in his lap, and Zelda hugs her knees while Riju paints her toenails and talks about Link.
“He was in Naboris for a week,” Riju says, adding another coat of bright green paint to Zelda’s toenails, “Everyone in town thought he was dead. When he came back we thought he was a ghost.”
“Goodness,” Sidon laughs, “A ghost? How?”
“He dyed his outfit white, for one thing. It looked great but scared the living daylight out of our guards.”
“He dyed it white?”
“Again, looked great,” Riju answers, “You’ll have to ask him to put it on. He’s a brilliant girl, he fooled half the town.”
“I thought he was a zora, once,” Sidon agrees, picking up another section of Link’s hair to braid it, “He was wearing our armor, complete with the fin helmet and everything. From behind he made a very convincing Zora, albeit a little short.”
Zelda breathes a laugh.
Then Riju turns, “Hey, Teba!”
The whole room looks at them then, then to Teba in the windowsill.
“Yes?”
“What did you think of Link when you first saw him?” She asks, “You must have thought he was crazy.”
“I think we all thought he was crazy,” Sidon adds.
Teba snorts, “Kid told me he wanted to board Medoh and wouldn’t stop pestering me until I took him up there. I thought he would die, but he didn’t. Medoh calmed down, I guess that was his fault. The end.”
A laugh starts around the room at Teba’s recap. Sidon looks down when Link stirs in his lap.
“It’s not exactly easy to calm down a giant mechanical monster,” his voice is groggy. He did just wake up after all, “I’m just as surprised as you are about me still being alive, to be honest.”
“Ah! Hello!” Sidon says brightly, patting him gently and helping him sit up, “Welcome back to the world of the living!”
“He didn’t die-” Riju cuts in, recapping the bottle of nail polish as Link sits up to stretch.
“How was your nap, Link?” Zelda smiles at him as he settles in Sidon’s lap, this time sitting up.
He smiles at her, “It was rather comfy, thank you.”
Sidon pokes him gently until he looks up.
Link smiles, albeit a little sleepily, “Yeah?”
“Tell us a story,” the prince requests, “Surely you didn’t spend the entire time setting things on fire?"
Link wrinkles his nose at him, "I never set anything on fire, I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Uh huh," Riju pipes, "Definitely not."
He drops his gaze to stick his tongue out at her, and she does the same, both smiling.
"I am curious though," Gaddison pipes, "What was up with you looking for people with "son" in their name?"
"Yeah, what happened to Kapson?" Dunma asks.
Link smiles, "Tarrey Town."
"Is that that new town in Akkala?" Zelda asks, "The one you were telling me about?"
Link nods, "It was Hudson's next project, after he helped restore my house in Hateno."
Yunobo leans in a bit, and Dunma reaches to help fix one of the blankets on his shoulders, "You have a house?"
Link smiles, "Yeah! Me and Zelda are gonna live there until the castle is restored."
"Why didn't you invite us over there?" Saki asks, still working away at her scarf.
"It's too small to fit everyone," Zelda answers, as Riju paints her nails a bright shade of blue, "And well it's...urhm..."
Link rubs the back of his neck with one hand, "Turns out we're not exactly the cleanest people in the world," he laughs, "It's kind of a mess in there."
The room shares a laugh about that, then the conversation sweeps back to Link.
He tells them everything he remembers about building the town, how he cut down whatever trees he could find to get enough wood for all the projects they wanted, and about all the awkward conversations he had to endure to invite others to a town that didn't even exist yet, all the way to-
"Rhondson got married?" one of the gerudan guards asks, looking shocked and Link nods.
"To a man?" says the other, and again, Link nods.
They consider this, blinking, then look to each other and nod.
"Good for her."
"Coulda sworn she was a lesbian."
"She left town, usually lesbians don't leave town-"
"So you helped build a town," Riju recaps the bottle of polish as Zelda waves her hands to help the stuff on her nails dry, "What else did you do?"
"Ooh, tell them about the Koroks," Zelda pipes.
"Koroks?" questions Sidon above him.
Link flushes, "Uhm...yeah well-"
"You mean the forest spirits?" Teba asks with a tilt of his head, "The ones from the children's stories?"
"The made-up forest spirits from the legends?" Dunma agrees.
"They aren't made up," Link says, letting Riju guide him out of Sidon's lap and closer to her so she can paint his nails, "And they're everywhere."
Teba gives him an odd look, "Define 'everywhere'."
"From the very peak of Death Mountain to the middle of a sandstorm in the desert everywhere," Link answers, "I found them where they should have been burned, frozen, blown to bits-"
"But how did you know how to find them?" Saki asks, "Aren't they invisible?"
Link shrugs. Riju carefully paints his fingernails blue, "They seemed surprised that I could see them."
"Maybe it's a chosen hero thing," Dunma takes one of Gaddison's pillows and tucks it under her stomach before laying down.
"Maybe," Link agrees.
He flinches when there's hands in his hair, but when he looks back, it's Sidon, who smiles at him warmly and begins to braid his hair again.
"Why did you go searching for the forest spirits?" Gaddison asks.
"Hide and seek," Link answers at the same time Zelda shouts, "To collect their poop!"
Link whips around to glare at her stupid, adorable, smug grin, face burning all the way to the tips of his ears.
Riju almost spills the nail polish on their hands as the whole room laughs, "What?"
Zelda nudges him with her shoulder, waving her hands again to dry the polish, "Tell em, big guy."
Link sighs, looking down at his hands so he doesn't have to look at anyone else, "The Koroks were playing a game of hide-and-seek, and if I found them they'd give what's called a Korok Seed."
"And what were the seeds made of?" Zelda prods.
Link shoots her a glare, "And if I gathered all those seeds and gave them to a Korok named Hestu, he expanded my bag so I could carry more things."
"But what were the seeds made of?" Zelda asks again.
Link glares at her, but she keeps looking at him with that smug grin of hers, refusing to back down.
Finally, he gives in with a heavy sigh.
"I spent almost a year travelling around Hyrule collecting poop from forest spirits," he admits, and Zelda dissolves into giggles, "There, happy?"
The room laughs at him. Sidon pats his shoulder between braids.
Eventually though, laughter pewters off, and Gaddison rolls onto her back and asks, "So who was the weirdest person you met while travelling?"
Link considers that for a while, thinking about all the strange people he's met.
Robbie the scientist, who never fails to make Link uncomfortable any time he visits the Akkala tech lab, Bolson, who agreed to fix his house cause he liked Link's "young spirit", Bozai, who has a crush on Link but only if he wears the female Gerudo armor-
"A traveling salesman named Kilton," Link answers after a while, "Obsessed with monster parts. Really nice guy though."
"Monster parts?" Saki questions, finishing off her scarf and standing to give it to Yunobo.
"Mmhmm," Link nods, "You see, when monsters die, you can actually cut off-"
"Ew, Link no-" Zelda stops him, waving one hand as if waving his words away, "We don't need to know."
"Sorry," He says, "Uhm...you can get monster parts, and if you find Kilton he'll buy them from you."
"Sounds like a good way for a monster hunter to get rupees," Sidon comments, finishing another braid.
"I never made any rupees off of Kilton, actually," he says as Riju finishes with his nails, "He made his own currency called "Mon" and I could only buy stuff from him with Mon."
"That sounds weird," Gaddison says, "Why would you make your own currency if the entire rest of Hyrule uses Rupees?"
Link shrugs, waving his hands as Riju caps the bottle of polish again, "I've learned not to question."
"Did he give you anything other than Mon?" Yunobo asks, now wearing a very large, multicolored scarf that wraps around his neck several times.
"Yeah," Link nods, wincing when the braid Sidon is working on tugs at his head, "I could buy monster stuff with the Mon."
Dunma tilts her head, "Monster stuff?"
Link gestures like he's putting on a helmet, "He made monster masks, so I could sneak in and out of monster camps easier."
"That's not all," Zelda cuts in, and he looks to her, "Didn't he also give you, like, the essence of monster in a bottle or whatever?"
"Oh yeah!" Link remembers now, "Yeah, I could buy bottles of Monster Extract."
Half the room makes a disgusted face, and that almost makes him laugh.
"It's not as terrible as it sounds, actually," he says, "I made a cake with it."
"We don't speak of that cake," Zelda reminds him, and he laughs.
"Right, sorry. I forgot."
Sidon drops the last braid and gently pats his head until he looks up.
Sidon smiles, golden eyes warm, "Sounds like you had a lot of adventures."
Link smiles back, "Yeah, I did."
He looks back to the room, "I can keep telling stories, if you want, but we should probably get to sleep soon."
#breath of the wild#zelda#link#new champions botw#my ao3#thanks for the request!#hopefully this is okay#sorry it took a hot minute
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Hey so you’ve written a bunch of awesome long stuff and I’m working on something long and I was wondering if you had any tips for revising? it feels so overwhelming
Hey, Dilemma Emma! The problem with this question is that I don’t revise stuff ever and usually just post my first draft as the final project don’t usually spend as much time on revision as other people might. But for very large projects like novels, I do spend more time editing and revising. So here are my tips!
Revising can definitely feel overwhelming. It’s hard to look at such a huge project and think about tackling it! But as with a lot of things, it’s a lot easier to process when you break it into chunks. Making a large project several smaller projects is easier to digest, allows you to take breaks and schedule it accordingly, and just feels more achievable and less stressful!
What I usually do is this:
1. Return to your outline. If it’s changed (like mine has) expand on it. Write down every scene that happens in a little list. Write down the main plot points and the subplots. It’s easy to visualize the plot this way, and it’s easier to see where the plot might have a lull or a stumble. If you feel like it, write every major beat out on notecards, and try shuffling them around or combining them to see what works better!
2. Do the actual switcheroo-ing. This includes a lot of copypasting but some scenes might have to be entirely rewritten. Focus on one scene at a time. Read through the scene before it before you start writing--that can help you get a sense of where the story is at the time. And I’d recommend keeping a copy of the original story intact--just so if a change doesn’t work, you can go back to how it was. This is a period of experimentation. Throw stuff at the wall and see what sticks. You’ll end up writing scenes you don’t use, and that’s okay. Don’t throw them out, either. See if you can use the best bits. Heck, go all out! Try different perspectives, different orders, completely different endings! This is time to go wild and experiment like the mad scientist you are.
3. Once you’ve found a plot that works for you, go scene-by-scene and focus on the writing. This is a good time to reflect on what you struggle with and try to hone that specific aspect. If you struggle with characterization, pull your dialogue out and list it in a different document and try to make each line sound authentic. If you struggle with scenery descriptions, play the five-senses game and write how everything looks, sounds, tastes, feels, and smells. If you struggle with dialogue, read it aloud and improvise the conversation from there, answering the questions how you would. You might not end up keeping all that, but it’s a good exercise! Practice makes progress (not perfect.)
4. When I’m focusing on the nitty-gritty details, I like to play 50-Page-Pick-Me-Up. The idea is that you print out your story, toss the pages all over the place, and edit them separate of all the others, looking for rough sentences or iffy descriptions. It’s actually really helpful! If you don’t feel like destroying tons of trees, you can get the same result by putting your page count in a number generator! Google has a free one and there are tons online as well. Whatever number comes up, focus on that one page and pare it down.
5. Please do a grammar run-through. Or two. Or seven. Find all the squiggly red lines, correct your spelling, correct your spelling again. If you’re bad with grammar--which is very fair--and your word processor isn’t catching it, maybe send it to a stickler friend who is good at catching typos. It’s not the end of the world if you miss a few, but it always irritates me when I miss one, and it’s a simple thing to do when you want your writing to seem more polished. English is hard, however, so here are a few guides:
How to Punctuate Dialogue
Paragraph Breaks and When to Use Them
A Guide to General Punctuation
And a free online grammar checker! (Grammarly is also a good tool, and it’s free!)
6. If you feel like it, and if it works for you, get a beta reader! It can be a friend or a stranger, but it should be someone who likes reading and knows how to give constructive feedback. This is definitely an optional step. But it can really help to get an outside opinion and have someone look out your story with fresh eyes. Plus, if you choose a good one, they can also encourage and support you throughout the creative process! Which is always good.
7. Don’t overdo it. This is less advice and more of encouragement. You can easily drive yourself up a wall editing--it’s easy to start seeing everything as terrible and believe that your story will never be perfect. And here’s the thing: it won’t be. Never. You could edit a story forever and it would never be completely flawless. Nobody is asking for a perfect story. They’re asking for your story. And your story might have typos, or plot holes, or iffy characterization--and that’s okay! If you chase perfection, you’ll never be satisfied with what you create, and by extension you’ll never put your story out into the world. A flawed story filled with heart is so much greater than no story at all. Have confidence in yourself. The flaws you see are so often magnified by your own mind. When you think you’re ready to stop editing, trust yourself. You know your story better than anyone else, and nobody could tell it but you.
Editing is only a process to make your story better, not a hard-and-fast rule. You don’t have to follow my advice, or even revise much at all! Find your own process and what works for you. And if anyone else wants to add on wth their own processes, go ahead!
I wish you the best of luck with your story, and I can’t wait to read it!
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Weekend Lukanette Link Roundup 4/20/20
Hi friends!
Usually I put my own stuff first but there’s some things I’m really excited about and I want to gush, so I’m gonna go last this time, and the important stuff is bolded to make it easier to find because I’m wordy.
I’m providing the tumblr links where possible so that you guys can reblog and spread the word if you find something you like (please do that!) but most of these authors (all of them I think) are also on AO3 if you prefer to read there!
From @verfound
Marinette’s 29 Valentine’s Days Ch 17 AND
Marinette’s 29 Valentine’s Days Ch 18 (woohoo!)
From @livrever
Wrong Number Ch 6
Wrong Number Deleted Scenes - A NSFW interlude between Chapter 5 and 6
From @mamanabeille
So, You Met Tchaikovsky A spinoff of the hockey player Luka fic she has in progress, which she did as a gift for me for my birthday, and it’s adorable and I don’t want to spoil it so I’m going to shush but SO CUTE. (If you’re intrigued by the idea of hockey-playing Luka be on the lookout for her upcoming fic Vibe Check which she’s still working on but I have every confidence that it will be awesome when it happens)
From @astronavigatrix
Luka Couffaine and the Triwizard Champion Also for my birthday, a Harry Potter AU featuring Luka taking on Lila and being both protective over and utterly smitten by Marinette. It’s super cute and sweet and has all my favorite things, including Juleka teasing which we all know I’m a sucker for.
I have two more to add but I’m gonna roll them up under my stuff for reasons that will become obvious.
Okay! So yesterday was my birthday and it’s one of those big round number birthdays that make you feel a little insecure and a little freaked out and of course, everything is closed so I couldn’t DO anything, so I decided to throw myself a little online party and celebrate by posting a bunch of things! They’re all tagged birthday big bang if you just want to jump in, but here’s the complete list.
Beautiful Dreams Ch 1 - I am SO EXCITED for this fic. It’s currently planned at six chapters and I’ve been working on it for months, and I’m finally to the point where I feel like I’m ready to start sharing it with you all. You’ve seen it teased in a bunch of WIP Wednesdays and SSS for a while now and it’s finally here!! If you prefer to read it on AO3 where you can subscribe for updates you can do that as well. Hopefully updates should be pretty regular as the first four chapters are mostly complete aside for some edit and polish.
Of course, there were more April Kisses. (Today’s is late, I got sick for a few days last week - not the Big Thing - and didn’t get anything done and so I’ve worked through my backlog, but I hope it will still be out tonight)
Finding Harmony was already posted in its entirety to AO3 but is now also complete here on Tumblr.
A bunch of my LBSC group friends wrote me birthday fic, a couple of which are linked above, and the rest of them were based around my story The Sky and the Sea, which also inspired me to write more for it, so here’s the (so far) full chronology of Dragon Luka and MerMari:
The Lizard and the Pearl by @motherofwoofers which inspired my piece:
Hello and Goodbye (new by me!)
A Chance Meeting by @justknitstuff / @chromemist (she takes fic commissions, by the way!)
The Sky and the Sea
The Hope and the Fear (new by me!) which was inspired by
The Storm was Over by @verfound (fair warning this story is full of death and angst and tragedy, so if you want a happy ending for our DragonFish couple...maybe don’t read this one. Except DO read this one because even though it is sad and painful it is BEAUTIFUL.)
Enjoy!
(Guys I am doing my best with this stuff but I don’t claim to be comprehensive, I’m sure I’m not getting everything, but if I missed something reblog this with a link and I’ll reblog it!)
#weekend roundup#lukanette#lukacouffaine#marinette dupain-cheng#miraculousladybug#miraculous ladybug
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My Online To Do List:
I’m legit so busy in both real life (kind of) and esp. for online stuff. The stuff I am busy with is mostly fun stuff. Including the more time-consuming stuff. Still it does cause me a bit busy. Like, he is my list of stuff of to do. I might add more this list, as I think of more stuff and more stuff comes up.
A long post and to-do list under the read more cut. I was gonna put the cut further down, but I didn’t really know where would be a good place to put one. So I am just going to put one here, since it makes sense, and it is a good place to put one. And that is just what I am going to do.
Legend:
So this is a legend type thing I have decided to for this to-do list, and I am going to do it for all or most of the sections/parts of this ‘Legend’. This is to help track my progress of the stuff on this list.
For the Game Section, the ‘Legend’ is: Haven’t Downloaded/Have Downloaded. Haven’t Started/Have Started. Not In Progress/In Progress. On Break/Currently Playing/Not Playing. Haven’t Finished/Have Finished. Not Replaying/Replaying. Maybe some other ones in the future and some Section/Part specific ones.
For the Fics/Writings Section, the ‘Legend’ is: Out of the Planning Stages/In the Planning Stages. Haven’t Started/Have Started. Not In Progress/In Progress. On Break/Currently Writing/Not Currently Writing. Haven’t Finished/Have Finished. Hasn’t been edited, proofread, or/& beta’ed/Currently being edited, proofread, or/& beta’ed/Has been edited, proofread, or/& beta’ed.
Whatever is bolded, is what is applicable to that section/thing. So for example if Haven’t Started is bolded, and not Started, that means I haven’t started it yet. And etc. Alright, that is all there is to the ‘Legend’ for now. Now on to actually adding this/these to the parts/sections of this list, and on to the actual to-do list itself.
PC Games I Want to Play and/or Finish:
1. DATING START! Undertale Sans Dating Sim Visual Novel/Game: Been meaning to play this, since the demo was so good and it just looked so good in general. I even was following the countdown to full release super closely, because I wanted to play it right when it came out. Which I did dip up opening up, just to see if everything was good boot up wise, and I saw the intro. But then I ended up not playing it, even though I wanted to play it right when it came out, lol. I got busy with the HxH Big Bang and other stuff. And I wanted to make sure once I started playing the game, I really got through a lot of it.
Basically, I wanted to have a decent amount to actually play it once. But I just couldn’t set aside a lot of time. However, I am less busy now, and also a bit less busy with my HxH BB. So I am finally going to get to playing this game, and I am very excited to play it. I may or may not post stuff about while I play or/& after I finish it. Will tag spoilers if so.
Haven’t Downloaded/Have Downloaded. Haven’t Started/Have Started. Not In Progress/In Progress. On Break/Currently Playing/Not Playing. Haven’t Finished/Have Finished. Not Replaying/Replaying.
2. Your Turn To Die and Your Time To Shine: Island Existence! Visual Novel/Sprite Game/Game/etc.: I am still in Ch2. So I got the rest of Ch2 and part of Ch3 to play. Been meaning to do finish what is released of this currently for awhile, since it is really good. But my break from it ended up being longer than I thought.
Anyway, I am going to get back to it and play and finish this soon. I also just need to outright play ‘Your Time To Shine: Island Existence!’, since I haven’t started that game at all. Will tag spoilers if I post anything about them.
Your Turn to Die: Haven’t Downloaded/Have Downloaded. Haven’t Started/Have Started. Not In Progress/In Progress. On Break/Currently Playing/Not Playing. Haven’t Finished/Have Finished. Not Replaying/Replaying.
Your Turn to Shine: Haven’t Downloaded/Have Downloaded. Haven’t Started/Have Started. Not In Progress/In Progress. On Break/Currently Playing/Not Playing. Haven’t Finished/Have Finished. Not Replaying/Replaying.
3. The Witch’s Heart/Witch’s Heart Game/Sprite Game/etc.: Haven’t even started this yet, and from what I have seen and heard of it on YouTube I am really missing out by doing so. And honestly, if I don’t play it soon, I am probably going to get even more spoiled about it, hahaha. So yeah, gotta play this game. Will tag spoilers if I post anything about it.
Haven’t Downloaded/Have Downloaded. Haven’t Started/Have Started. Not In Progress/In Progress. On Break/Currently Playing/Not Playing. Haven’t Finished/Have Finished. Not Replaying/Replaying.
4. Undertale: Act to Flirt: I am about halfway through this. I kind of what to wait until 0.4 comes out to get more through it, but we will see. I might not be able to resist finishing up what is already out for this VN.
Haven’t Downloaded/Have Downloaded. Haven’t Started/Have Started. Not In Progress/In Progress. On Break/Currently Playing/Not Playing. Haven’t Finished/Have Finished. Not Replaying/Replaying.
5. TS! Underswap Demo: I both need to download AND play this. From stuff I have seen of it, some let’s plays thumbnails, character designs, and etc., it just looks really good, and I should really get to playing it. From what I have seen of character portrayals in this too, I am also liking them, and I think this is probably one of my favorite versions of Underswap of a/the Swap AU. I am looking forward to more of it too, whenever that ended up being.
Haven’t Downloaded/Have Downloaded. Haven’t Started/Have Started. Not In Progress/In Progress. On Break/Currently Playing/Not Playing. Haven’t Finished/Have Finished. Not Replaying/Replaying.
6. UT MV (Undertale Multiverse) Bonely Hearts Club VN Demo: Currently not finished, and is just a Demo. still want to play the demo though. Which is what is out of the actual game/VN so far. There will be ? routes and ? dates. They already say how many of these things, but I forget. So I will add the number(s) later after I remember them, or look it up.
Haven’t Downloaded/Have Downloaded. Haven’t Started/Have Started. Not In Progress/In Progress. On Break/Currently Playing/Not Playing. Haven’t Finished/Have Finished. Not Replaying/Replaying.
7. Shattered Hope F: Cabin Confiding (Events): Haven’t started yet. But I what to soon, because they say people should watch/play this and the Social Butterfly events, before watching the new batch of episodes; which have started to come out. Also, it just looks fun, so yeah.
Haven’t Downloaded/Have Downloaded. Haven’t Started/Have Started. Not In Progress/In Progress. On Break/Currently Playing/Not Playing. Haven’t Finished/Have Finished. Not Replaying/Replaying.
8. Some other visual novels, games, demos/chapters, and etc. that I will add later. Since the games above, are the ones I want to play the most currently.
My Planning and Writing of my Fics and etc.:
1. The Meeting of a God and a Demon: Just need to do some slight edits. Nothing major to the story, just fixing some typos/grammar errors I missed, maybe removing/adding some tags, and adding some page dividers (Since I now it is a good idea to add these, and because I also now how to them kind of on AO3) to make reading a bit easier. So yeah, just some minor edits for this.
Out of the Planning Stages/In the Planning Stages. Haven’t Started/Have Started. Not In Progress/In Progress. On Break/Currently Writing/Not Currently Writing. Haven’t Finished/Have Finished. Hasn’t been edited, proofread, or/& beta’ed/Currently being edited, proofread, or/& beta’ed/Has been edited, proofread, or/& beta’ed.
2. Secret Upcoming Fic: The fic is basically completely beta’ed, just some stuff earlier on in the fic we need to get back to, and just some more beta’ing and editing. But we have already gone over the whole fic, it just needs a bit more editing, beta’ing, and polishing it up.
I said I will probably will release this fic this month (or next one), but it looks like releasing it at least this month (February) might not super likely for a couple of reasons. 1. My beta has been bit busy lately, and so I am just waiting when there less busy and for them to reach out to me again when they are less busy and ready. And 2. This fic (or at least a snippet of it. I am going to release the whole fic after the zine with the snippet of it is released) was originally meant for a TAU Zine. More specially, TAU Zine ED2: Demonology and the Occult.
I thought since I had taken so long to get this fic done and beta’ed, that I was too late to enter it in the zine, but I was wrong, and I was able to sign up for it. Now I am just waiting for the deadline date(s) for the zine to be posted on the transcendence-zine tumblr. And because I am waiting for the deadline date, I actually don’t know when the zine itself will release. And I can’t release the fic until the zine gets released which I don’t know if that will be February or March. Pretty unlikely to be February though. So those are the reasons why I am not sure if this fic will be released in March and esp. February.
I will try for both release of this fic for both months, but like I said, due to needing it be finished beta’ing and due to not knowing when the deadline for this and zine release dates are, I am not sure it will be in February or March and might end up being later. So like, maybe April or May instead. Still trying for February or March though, so let’s just *cross our fingers* that I will be able to.
Out of the Planning Stages/In the Planning Stages. Haven’t Started/Have Started. Not In Progress/In Progress. On Break/Currently Writing/Not Currently Writing. Haven’t Finished/Have Finished. Hasn’t been edited, proofread, or/& beta’ed/Currently being edited, proofread, or/& beta’ed/Has been edited, proofread, or/& beta’ed.
3. Hunter x Hunter Big Bang 2021 Fic: I have already started planning this fic out, but I got a lot to do. I have a few months until when the draft is due, but I have a lot to do for it, and I want to make sure this fic is good as my 1st HxH fic posted online and because this my first time actually entering the HxH BB. I have read and seen a lot of HxH BB stuff in the past, but I haven’t entered myself, until this year! So yeah, pretty busy with this.
Out of the Planning Stages/In the Planning Stages. Haven’t Started/Have Started. Not In Progress/In Progress. On Break/Currently Writing/Not Currently Writing. Haven’t Finished/Have Finished. Hasn’t been edited, proofread, or/& beta’ed/Currently being edited, proofread, or/& beta’ed/Has been edited, proofread, or/& beta’ed.
4. Planning for and a another TAU (TAU meaning the Gravity Falls AU called Transcendence-AU) Fic: Got some ideas for a fic, but before I can really get started planning and writing this fic and stuff about it, I am waiting for the transcendence-au tumblr to answer a question/submission of mine. Depending on the answer, this fic might either need more or less behind-the-scenes stuff and planning. This fic probably won’t be able for awhile.
Out of the Planning Stages/In the Planning Stages. Haven’t Started/Have Started. Not In Progress/In Progress. On Break/Currently Writing/Not Currently Writing. Haven’t Finished/Have Finished. Hasn’t been edited, proofread, or/& beta’ed/Currently being edited, proofread, or/& beta’ed/Has been edited, proofread, or/& beta’ed.
5. Planning for and another yet again another TAU (TAU meaning the Gravity Falls AU called Transcendence-AU) Fic: Most likely another God/Goddess/Deity Fic like my Gaia one. And while I have other stuff planned for Gaia, this fic probably won’t be focused on her, though she might get mentioned. This fic is much more likely to release before that other fic am planning and talking about for the previous numbered point, 4. And while I don’t have an estimate date for when this will be released, hopefully it won’t be TOO far off in the future. This fic should definitely be interesting.
Out of the Planning Stages/In the Planning Stages. Haven’t Started/Have Started. Not In Progress/In Progress. On Break/Currently Writing/Not Currently Writing. Haven’t Finished/Have Finished. Hasn’t been edited, proofread, or/& beta’ed/Currently being edited, proofread, or/& beta’ed/Has been edited, proofread, or/& beta’ed.
6. Maybe/Probably other stuff in the future. But the above is my current to-do list for my writings and fics.
Miscellaneous Stuff:
1. Start and get caught up on some fics.
2. Start and get caught up on some comics.
3. Watch YouTube Videos.
4. Some other stuff to write out, that aren’t fics.
5. Maybe/Probably other stuff in the future.
Hahah, I know this might not seem like a lot (this just my online stuff), but it it is defin. a lot to me, and is gonna keep me busy for awhile. Which I am happy I have stuff to keep busy, but this is still quite a lot. Still looking forward start really making way through this to-do list.
This took me so long to do, lol. The list itself took long enough, but trying to do the legend stuff, which I originally had spaced differently, but that wasn’t working, so I had to fix it/them to make it/them look good, and that took me even more time. Finally done for now though.
#my own post#long post#to-do list#DS!#DATING START!#yttd#your turn to die#ytts: ie#your time to shine: island existence#undertale#AtF#act to flirt#undertale act to flirt#ts!underswap#The Meeting of a God and a Demon#secret upcoming fic#hxh#hunter x hunter#hxhbb21#hxhbigbang2021#gravity falls#gravity falls au#tau#transcendence-au#transcendence au#transcendence au zine#tau zine edition 2: demonology and the occult#youtube#Gaia#witch's heart
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As I've been bed-bound due to medical stuff, I've been rereading Les diamants to pass the time (very good distraction lol). Going through it, I've been enjoying the many elements of foreshadowing and moments that hit so much harder, which is a testament to how well this is written. So, I'm really curious about your process when you began introducing elements of the main lore/plot in the early chapters! (1/2)
(2/2) Like, was there an idea of where you were going and how you wanted to connect back later, or did you sort of just go with the flow and figure out where it was leading later on? Hope this makes sense. I'm kind of a wannabe writer but I get so stuck about not having a full fledged idea of what to do, so I'm always curious about other writers' processes. I also so look forward to your next installment! 💜💜
Oh I love this question !
My writing process for Diamants really is ‘organized chaos’. I wrote the first two chapters kind of on a whim. After that, I created a board with post-its. At the start I had planned for a much more cartoony plot, with a doomsday laser machine actionned only by the stolen diamonds ala James Bond from the 80s nonsense, but as the family drama started becoming serious, I realized it wouldn’t fit so I started thinking about something a bit more dramatic and dignified while still giving me that operatic over the top spy movie vibe. The plot has completely changed since that initial board but the character beats - Eliott slowly falling for Lucas and dipping his toes into the criminal underworld, the escape, the flight, etc, are globally the same. If you have an idea of those big tensions you need, I feel like the plot points will fill themselves in, and as you start building your world more and more, you will have a better intuition of what ‘makes sense’.
So really, for me, the emotional arc is what leads the way, and I fill in the plot regarding what I need. In the case of the Shadow I started with this idea of a rivalry between Lucas and Eliott’s families that they would turn around, then it became more complicated ; there was an element of class disparities and hierarchy and the fact that their two fathers represent things they both want to reject, brute violence and manipulative structural power ; Armand and his secret society stuff as a representative of this more polished sort of power, a sort of ‘gentleman of crime’ connected to old hierarchies of power, while Jacques is more of a low tier gangster, and then the feuding families ; Vallès came in as a sort of ‘mid-tier’ boss and then his place grew and he became this sort of dark Gandalf (lmao) as a subversion of the ‘wise old wizard that teaches the hero what he needs’ because the story is about subverting The Patriarch as an archetype, so he’s powerful but also repeatedly powerless and sort of tragic ; etc. When I got stuck, it’s because I was lacking clarity about what I wanted my plot to achieve for the characters.
So like I feel it’s a complex back and forth between writing and planning for me. When I wrote the first few chapters, I put stuff in there that ended up being red herrings. For instance, the bit where Lucas says to Eliott that there might be more than diamonds in the Karls’ safe, at first, I thought that maybe there actually might be compromising stuff in there, but then it made more sense as a plant by Lucas for Eliott to find the guy who came for the thing (that wasn’t actually there) and trail that guy to the Alchemist Bar, so it’s a sort of trap, but I didn’t really know that at first, that became clearer later. I like seeding my story with things that might be interesting later, but if they don’t, you can always turn them into red herrings or atmospheric details. And sometimes, it’s while writing those details that I get ideas for the rest of the fic. I actually didn’t know that Lucas knew Eliott in college until I wrote that bit where he is making this fake backstory up about them meeting in college and I was like...waaaaaait a minute. So I wrote the first few chapters without really thinking that Lucas and Eliott had actually crossed paths before, and when I rewrote those scenes between them from the perspective of Lucas having been in love with Eliott for a long time but pushing it down I was surprised at how well it fit. I think I was lucky for a lot of things. But also, I gave some things a new meaning in hindsight.
I think what helps is having these themes that you can sort of riff on for each characters. So you introduce little details related to the theme you can use again later - for Lucas, for instance, danger, devotion, authority issues ; for Eliott, art, hunger, being truthful or fake, etc. I have an idea of the general trajectory I want them to go on throughout the story, so I can use that to insert some foreshadowing. And the more you know your characters the easier it gets.
So yeah I have a general outline of chapters now, and then before I start a chapter I make a general outline of scenes - which often ends up modified as I go. I also have a doc where I write iconic scenes in advance when I get an idea and I want to work towards those.
Writing fic when you publish chapter by chapter as you write is a weird thing because you are basically publishing your first draft while you write it, so you don’t have a chance to go back and fix stuff, you just have to make it work with what you have. It pushes you to be really creative sometimes, and sometimes it ends up being unnecessarily complicated, but it’s always fun.
Hope your medical stuff will be okay <3
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Disclaimer: Tumblr sucks, but this chapter doesn’t. Honestly my favorite chapter so far, no joke. I will be the one posting my gf @anesther’s fics in order to have them in the tags, so hopefully you all can read and enjoy as well!
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AN: Gonna have my girlfriend upload my stuff now and then because tumblr really, really hates giving my posts a chance in the tags. It took me all day, with wrist pain and being busy, but I got it up dang it.
Title: Interfaces
Characters: Entrapta, Hordak, features Glimmer and Adora
Pairing: Entrapdak
Rating: T (for some sensuality)
Read on AO3 for the love of god.
Spa Day
“Welcome to Mystacore!” Glimmer says, arm stretching out in a grand sweeping motion. “Well, Mystacore Number Two. We haven’t thought of a name yet.”
Hordak stares at the pink and purple valances strewn around the building, hedges and trees neatly trimmed. The first thing he thinks is that the place smells sickeningly sweet, almost cloying. The paradise remained primarily in the clouds, though a small group of people had decided to head earthbound to create a sector that was adjacent to Bright Moon. Glimmer, being the niece of Castaspella, had been more than excited to overlook the project. And even more excited to bring people who had yet to experience the beauty and zen of Mystacorian performance.
“We finally got the renovations complete for the soaking tubs,” Glimmer continues. “It took a while to find underground hot springs, but we managed to get it together. There is also a new area we’re trying out where we give out massages.”
Entrapta looks around, curious. She approaches a smooth marble column, sliding her hand down its surface, “How long has this been going on?”
“Once Horde Prime was defeated, I wanted to bring calm to Etheria, and nothing says peace like Mystacore! My dad also wanted to spend more time in Mystacore and Bright Moon, so we compromised by bringing him a little piece of home from each place.”
“Wow, you’ve really outdone yourself, Glimmer,” Adora states.
“Thank you, but it wasn’t just me. My aunt helped a lot to put it together— Where’s Entrapta?”
Adora and she look at Hordak, who keeps his usual frown.
“She always does that,” Adora sighs.
“Okay, should we look for her?” Glimmer asks.
“She will arrive when she likes,” Hordak says, walking forward, leaving them behind.
“Right, of course,” Glimmer agrees, transporting next to him. “I can lead you to one of our relaxation facilities.”
Adora shouts, “I’m going to head to a different room!”
Glimmer waves goodbye, keeping pace with Hordak.
Hordak doesn’t protest as she points out the various needs that can be taken care of. The defeat of Horde Prime led to an odd but solid relationship with Queen Glimmer. In the years since, there hasn’t been a single battle between his kind and the Etherians, who have adopted the former in a truce that is proving to be positive. With Horde Prime’s technology, and the reemergence of Etheria to the rest of the universe, there have been advancements toward space travel and forming alliances with neighboring planets. His brothers have taken quite well to Etherian life, and he had noted several of them waiting in the foyer, and even aided in the construction of Mystacore Number Two.
She really should name it better.
“Here we are,” Glimmer announces. Opening polished double doors, she reveals several massage tables, freshly changed with clean linen. The room is artificially lit, with large sources of it coming from a tall ceiling. “This is the aromatherapy room, if you’d like to begin here.”
Hordak scans the area, hesitating.
“Not a big fan of smells?”
“It’s not that, there’s merely a lot of them.”
Glimmer gestures toward a table, “Would you like to give it a try?”
“...I’m not sure…”
“Well, that’s okay!” Glimmer tells him. “We have plenty of other rooms for you to try out.”
Hordak is led through another set of doors. This hallway shines soft lavender with hibiscus accents. He doesn’t even step into the room before his nose wrinkles in disgust.
Glimmer takes one look and opts to head down to the left, “Why don’t we go this way?”
“What was in that room?”
“Our manicure and pedicure salon. I thought maybe that would be good, considering how long your claws can get.”
“I take care of that myself.”
“Oh, well, I guess that makes sense, since they look really, um… sharp?”
Hordak looks at his hands, “They don’t grow longer than this.”
“I see. Well, manicures are out!” Glimmer looks up at him, “Would you like to see our electrolysis treatment?”
Hordak raises a brow at her.
“Heh, right, stupid question. Let’s keep going, shall we?”
-
“Entrapta? Where’d you go?” Adora asks. There has got to be an easier way to keep track of someone who isn’t even five feet tall, has hair that extends 20 feet when she likes, and is brightly colored purple. “Are you in the vents? I don’t even know how that could be—there aren’t any.”
Adora walks along the pilasters, letting her mind wander as she searches. It’s been a good while since Horde Prime was beaten. While everyone seems to have moved on, she can’t help but be a little wary when Hordak makes his presence known. She doesn’t hate him, but she, as Bow had eloquently put it once, ‘has major trust issues.’
She doesn’t think he will go against them, and the rest of his kind have settled into Etherian life very well. Their acclimation has been nothing short of surprising.
Maybe she needs to look at it as the simple fact that there isn’t anything to worry about. That there isn’t a reason for her to access She-Ra.
She can be Adora.
“What are you doing?”
“Agh!” she yelps, jumping away.
Entrapta lowers herself from the ceiling, “You started spacing out.”
“What? I was looking for you.”
“You were, but then you were just standing here for a few minutes. Did you find something interesting on the floor?” Entrapta asks, pushing her aside to look at the spot. “Hmm, doesn’t seem to have anything.”
“There isn’t anything on the floor. I was just looking for you.”
“That’s nice of you! Would you happen to know how they manage to get the pipes threaded into the walls? I’ve been trying to find a way to note how this place is structured, but I haven’t found an entrance.”
“I’m not sure where that would be either,” Adora replies.
“That’s okay! I’m sure I can find one—or make one without compromising the integrity of the building.”
“Entrapta, can I ask you something?”
“What?”
“How has Hordak been taking to Etherian life?”
“Oh, he’s been great! He’s had a lot more free time with me to work on all kinds of new inventions! He’s been putting together this new kind of robot with me, but I can’t tell you too much about it!” Entrapta shifts close, whispering. “It’s a secret!”
“What kind of robot?” Adora asks, anxiety forming.
“Can’t tell you! Hordak and I are going to be working on it a while longer, and it’s going to be so cool!”
Before Adora can say anything, Entrapta looks up at the ceiling, “Oh, I think that might be a good spot to try for an opening.”
In one movement, she ascends, leaving Adora confused.
What kind of robot?
It’s probably not anything.
Adora sighs, wondering if she’s being paranoid. That’s not something she’s been able to fully shake off. Maybe she should find Glimmer. She’s bound to be done with Hordak by now.
-
Hordak has never been more stressed in his entire life.
“You have to relax.”
“I… I don’t think I can,” Hordak says, trying not to shake.
“I promise if you relax, you won’t be feeling, uh, whatever it is you’re feeling.”
“Is this supposed to be how it works?”
“Yes, acupuncture is supposed to be like this. Although, it would help if you relax.”
“I don’t believe telling me to relax over and over is going to make that happen,” Hordak hisses. With an irritated grunt, he stands up from the lounging chair. He turns to the acupuncturist, “Get these off me at once!”
Glimmer groans, “Hordak, I promise if you just let things be, you wouldn’t be upset!”
She has been trying all day to be a good host. This was supposed to be a calm afternoon, but he seems so resistant. Absolutely stubborn! She had an easier time with Adora, and she had been going a little nuts. But Hordak has a determination to be as unreasonable as possible when it comes to treatment.
Frowning, she walks up to him, “We went to a lot of places already—the deep tissue massage, hot stone massage, facials, scrubs. You just don’t seem to care for anything.”
Hordak opens his jaw, moving it up and down, side to side. Patting his cheeks, he looks at her, “Well, you’ve had me go around everywhere, and there is simply nothing I want.”
“There’s always a place people can go to let their hair down. Ooh, do you want a hair wash?”
“No, again, I do that myself,” Hordak says.
Glimmer shakes her head, “Of course. You do everything yourself.”
He suddenly lets out a sharp hiss, pain shooting up his arm.
She looks at his fingers, the rest covered by a robe, “Are you okay?”
“It’s nothing. Just a nerve…” Hordak holds up a hand. “Don’t try to throw me in the wayward arms of a masseuse. I would simply like to rest.”
Glimmer’s brows furrow in thought. Perhaps she has been looking at this all wrong. There were so many new additions to Mystacore’s already impressive spa treatments, that she had been excited to unveil them all to Hordak and Entrapta—even if the latter has been gone this entire time—that she didn’t stop to consider that she might have been pushing him into something he doesn’t care for. Over the past few years, she learned he’s someone who doesn’t need or desire a lot, especially if they’re material possessions or experiences. “You know, I have one last room for you, and I think this one will click.”
Hordak sighs deeply, more exhausted than when he arrived. He nods, “Very well. Lead the way.”
Hopeful about this one, Glimmer allows him to pass through a singular door. The hallway gleams silver and blue, the temperature a little cooler by a few degrees. Hordak smells nothing out of the ordinary. His ears twitch at the sound of running water, and he catches the scent of it before coming to a room full of steam.
Hordak looks around the vicinity, the fog obscuring his vision to a good enough amount to ensure privacy, even if wearing clothes designed for soaking were available.
Glimmer smiles at him, “Here is the sauna-including-soaking-tubs! I wasn’t sure whether to bring you here because it doesn’t seem like something you’d be into. And people are usually around, but I think this could work.”
He dips his hand into nearby water, clear where the water doesn’t froth from the small waterfall; the heat radiates from his fingers upward.
“This will do,” Hordak says.
“Yes!” Glimmer shouts, enthused.
He looks at her, smirking, “It only took you all day to find something suitable.”
“Well, you’re one tough customer. But I think you’ll enjoy it here. And no one’s around. I’ll grab you something to change into.”
Soon, Hordak is dressed in breathable clothes, and Glimmer takes her leave.
Slipping into the hot water, Hordak allows a contented sigh to leave his lips. He sinks down into the water until its surface touches his chin. The sensation is akin to pleasure. The liquid moves about his muscles, steam shifting in front of his eyes when he breathes. His head tips forward, circulation steadily increasing. The numbness in his arm begins to recede, heat blissfully wrapping around his limbs.
Hordak submerges completely under the water, eyes closing lightly. There is no air, yet he can breathe. There is no sound, yet there is thrumming in his ears. The warmth permeates through, and a stirring reminiscent of serenity blooms in his chest, in his mind. He curls in on himself, the closest to childhood quiet he will understand.
Emerging from the water, droplets moving down his frame, Hordak’s shoulders droop, a lazy smile on his face. Relaxed.
“Hi!” Entrapta says, coming down.
“Hello,” Hordak replies, easing further. Wearing similar attire, she glides into the water, swimming up to him. She allows her hair to be loose, free from its pigtails, its natural weight drags it down to the bottom, fanning out under the water. Swimming up to his side, she places her arms on his shoulder. “Did you have fun exploring?”
“I did! I was following you every now and then, it wasn’t hard to do that, but I did try to find an opening into the building to look through its pipes, wires, pumps. It was all very interesting!”
“Did you succeed?”
“No! I had to make an opening myself. It’s very discreet, they’ll never knooow,” Entrapta says in a hushed tone.
“I know. You’re very good at being sneaky,” Hordak says, smiling at her.
“Adora was talking to me about you,” Entrapta tells him, leaning upon his shoulder.
“Oh? Why is that?” Hordak asks, resting against the stone. “I think she believes you’re not to be trusted still,” Entrapta informs. Pushing up on him, she brushes a dark blue tendril from his forehead. “I would’ve explained it to her, but I didn’t find it necessary.”
“A wise choice. It cannot be helped. Adora has no reason to extend any sort of olive branch in my direction, even if it has been a couple of years.”
Entrapta flicks some water with her fingers, “She will eventually come around.”
“That’s up to her. And even then, I don’t need to be accepted by everyone during the remainder of my time here.”
“Glimmer is pretty sweet to you!”
“Yes, she is,” Hordak says. He formed an odd kinship with her after the Rebellion regained control of Etheria. “She treats me well.”
“Hey! Look!” Entrapta shouts. Sinking down til her mouth is under, she blows air with her mouth, bubbles rising and popping at the top.
Hordak lowers himself to the water at the same level. And blows bubbles in turn.
Entrapta laughs in manic glee, splashing him as she claps her hands. Hordak shoves water in her direction, making her chortle harder. She squeals when he breaks into a wide, red grin, chasing her around the tub’s perimeter. Grabbing her, Entrapta flops against him, “Oh no, you caught me!”
He nips her ear, breathing onto it, “I did indeed.” He trails his mouth down her neck, making her gasp. Pressing it gently along her throat, he feels her body arch into him. Her arms wrap around his shoulders, moaning into him.
He withdraws, lightly kissing her cheek, “You have to wait.”
“Ooh, you’re such a tease!” Entrapta says, clinging to him. “You’re going to make me wait until we’re back at the lair.”
“Of course. I highly doubt we want anyone rushing in here when I make you scream.”
Entrapta laughs, looking up at him, “But think of the thrill of being caught!”
“Maybe next time. When we go to Glimmer’s castle.”
Their cackles ring around them, echoing above the water.
-
Glimmer shudders.
Adora looks at her, “What is it?”
“I don’t know. Got a weird feeling outta nowhere.”
“Probably nothing,” Adora says, continuing to eat her meal.
“Yeah, likely nothing.”
-
Entrapta looks at Glimmer, “Thank you for having us!”
Glimmer nods at the couple, “No problem! Thank you for choosing Mystacore Number Two for all your spa needs!”
“You really should change the name,” Entrapta says.
“And perhaps hire a concierge,” Hordak adds.
“We had one. But we had to fire them for taking up too much time relaxing instead of working.”
“Who was it?”
“Double Trouble.”
“Ah,” Entrapta and Hordak say simultaneously.
“Well, thanks for having us!” Entrapta says.
“Entrapta, hang on,” Adora walks over. “Can we talk over there, for a minute?”
“Sure,” She agrees.
Heading off a few feet, Adora begins, “I wanted to ask how you were doing, but you left really quickly.”
“I’m doing wonderful! Everything has been going smoothly at the lair.”
“What was the robot you mentioned?”
Entrapta waves a hand, “Silly, I told you I can’t talk about it just yet.”
“Not even a hint?” Adora pleads.
Entrapta gives her a gracious smile, patting her head with a lock of purple, “If it makes you feel better, it’s nothing you need to be worried about.”
“I’m not worried.”
“You’re quite a paranoid person, you know that?”
“I’m not that paranoid.”
Entrapta grins at her, “It’s not a bad thing, Adora! When we’re done, I’ll have you look at it!”
Adora sighs. She smiles back, “Alright. I’ll wait until then.”
Glimmer watches them interact for a moment before turning to Hordak, “Did you enjoy your soak?”
“I did,” Hordak answers. He clears his throat. “Thank you.”
“Sure! It’s what spa people do.”
“No, I mean, thank you… for taking the time to help me…”
Glimmer, touched, smiles at him, “Aww, you’re welcome. I’m glad you had fun!”
“Yes, I did enjoy myself,” Hordak admits.
Grinning at this accomplishment, she finds Adora walking back toward her, and Entrapta to Hordak. Bidding goodbyes, she waves at them as they leave.
“Hordak’s changed a lot, huh?” Glimmer says, breaking the silence.
“Yeah, I guess he has.”
Glimmer looks at Adora, “He actually thanked me for a good time! I feel like I can take on any customer!”
“You know you’re a queen, not a spa-day-host-person, right?” Adora asks, smirking at her.
“I can be both,” she declares, before heading inside.
Adora nods. Maybe she does need to be more considerate about the changes people have made. She had forgiven Catra, and there had been much more bad blood between them. If her friends say that Hordak is alright, then she’ll trust them instead of her doubts.
Maybe a soak will alleviate her head from all this thinking.
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