#I just realized I didn’t put any shine on those parts so it might not come off the way it’s supposed to

[quibbs126]

So I redesigned this old character of mine this morning, named 97. There might have been more to her name, I don’t remember

I drew her because of a Game Jam thing I’m a part of, since our brainstorming reminded me of her. We might use her, we might not, but regardless I liked this, so I wanted to post it. Though note, I’ll just be talking about her old story rather than whatever we’re working on right now. Because I’m not sure about how confidentiality of information on this subject works

Anyways, the picture in the top left is my only digital drawing of her, from winter of probably about 2020-2021? It’s a number of years old, I know that

I might have made other drawings of her, but it would have been on my sketchbook back then instead of here. So this is all I have to work with here

It’s on a page of other random story ideas, if you’re curious as to what the other stuff is. I only remember the one on the right though

My new attempts at drawing Transformers inspired by Mega Man designs has helped me greatly. And also my attempts to learn anatomy a bit better last semester. It still isn’t the best though, and it was so weird to try and draw a human at this point

But yeah, this is 97. In my head, she’s always had an association with pink, particularly in her hair. At some point I think I associated it with her armor as well, and so I made her armor pink here, with black/dark purple to go with it

She was also supposed to have a color for light in this new design. I just inverted one of the pinks to get that cyan, and while it was just supposed to be a placeholder, I ended up liking it, so that’s what I’m sticking with

Her eyes are green like her original, and I’m not sure if I should change it? I think it looks fine, but I wonder if I should change it to fit the other colors more

I think both of her arms were supposed to turn into cannons, and I think in the original, her fingers look like that because they’re turning into a blaster, but I changed it here to just be one arm, and that arm’s fingers to be more different, having only three fingers. Now she’s got more of a Mega Man and also my Megatron design going on. I think it looks good, I just need to figure out her other arm more now

But also things to probably note about 97: she’s a cyborg, with only her human head and torso remaining (I think down to her waist), the rest being cybernetics. She’s also supposed to be somewhere in her 30s or so

In her story, there’s supposed to be this organization making robots/cyborgs for some reason I don’t think I ever fully fleshed out. They were also very much shady. 97’s name here comes from being the 97th of their creations

Before becoming 97, she was some sort of military officer, fighting whatever same threat the organization is, until some sort of horrible accident led to her losing half of her body, and being repurposed into 97

Her story was supposed to be a hypothetical video game, and the main thing was that it had two branching paths depending on your actions, though both were equally pretty bad

In the route where you listen to the organization you’re now working for, you end up facing 96, the cyborg before you who went rogue and is causing problems, rounding up other old projects to do so. 96 isn’t that bad of a person, and he was also like, fresh out of high school, 18-20 when he got turned into 96. His chaos is mostly centered around the organization you work for, whom he’s come to realize is completely rotten, and is fighting back alongside other projects they’ve mistreated and abandoned. You are very much the bad guy here. 96 originally isn’t that mad at 97, because she just got here and probably doesn’t get it yet, but by the end of the game he hates you for killing his friends (the other projects), and for sticking with the horrible organization despite 97 having to know they aren’t benevolent by this point

However, in the alternate route where you forego the organization and instead help 96, you have another threat to face in the form of the newly made 98. 98 was a new military recruit, possibly in the same group as 97 prior to their recreation, around her early 20s. However, 98 differs from 96 and 97 in her lack of free will. 97 was the organization’s last attempt at letting one of their projects keep their free will, after previous attempts like 96 have proven to go astray and do things the organization doesn’t like, even turning against them. But they’ve had proof that their projects work better with human brains as opposed to machine intelligence, which ultimately cannot adapt to circumstances like humans. So with 98, she keeps her brain and mind, but she’s basically being controlled by the organization rather than her own self. So she’s in a living hell, and fighting 98 is pretty much just putting her out of her misery. Though she wouldn’t exist at all if 97 didn’t decide to rebel against the organization, and 98 won’t be the last project they make

So basically you’re either the organization’s attack dog, fighting a young man who genuinely wants to make things better (even if he’s a bit destructive), and taking away the remaining things he loves, or you choose to fight against these horrible people, but you fate innocent people to a living hell and eternal misery until you kill them, including a young woman who was supposed to depend on you in your past life, and there’s no way of knowing how many more will suffer before you can stop this once and for all

Also one more note about the three, they’re all missing different amounts of their bodies, replaced with machinery. 96 is missing his lower half, but he still has his arms. 97 is missing all of her limbs and a bit of her lower body. 98 meanwhile only has her head left. I think also they didn’t actually lose all of those body parts in the accidents that led to them becoming cyborgs (they did lose some, but not all, especially 98), the organization just decided to replace more of their body for their own purposes

96 and 98 never got designs, maybe I’ll give them some, but I don’t know. I know vaguely that 96 has brown hair while 98 has blonde. Though 97 has pink so maybe I should change theirs up a bit more

But yeah, that was 97’s story. The idea was that with her two routes, there was no “true” ending like how other games have, they’re supposed to be sort of equal in how bad they are, so that there’s a genuine choice in which to go through. It depends on which you consider more important, because there is no happy ending, especially when you’re dealing with a corrupt group like the one here, someone always suffers

But like, maybe it’s a bit too much of a downer. I don’t really know

But it’ll probably never get used anyways, because I almost certainly won’t make a proper video game at this rate, even if I think it’d be neat

So yeah, just know this was an idea I had, and I just wanted to show you her new design, because I like it

[johnwickb1tsch]

Sympathy for the Devil ~ Part 11

A Donaka Mark x housekeeper!Reader fic, based on @discoscoob 's concept & bot! Though this is where the c.ai help ended because I was breaking the bot's pea pickin' mind. 😆

Warnings: Donaka Mark is a bad man with a soft spot for you. dark romance, possessive behavior, nonconsensual voyeurism, red flag red flag girl!🔺, psychological games, power imbalance, eventual dubcon/nsfw. PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS!!!

one. two. three. four. five. six. seven. eight. nine. ten.

Eleven. 十一

You wake with a start. 

You’re naked, and Donaka is sprawled out in his bed beside you. Your eyes roam over the long lines of his powerful body, taking in his angles and curves. His broad muscled back, and tapered waist.

A more bitable little ass was never created by God or man. 

That bit of sanity you’d been hoping for once the hormones subsided mercifully returns to you. No matter how gorgeous this man is–no matter how good he fucks, or how many times he made you cum the night before with his hands and his cock and his tongue (sweet Confucious, Buddha, and baby Jesus, his tongue)–you have got to get out of here. 

It’s early morning, the blue light of pre-dawn. You slip out of bed, nearly dying of a heart attack when he stirs beside you–but does not wake. Quickly you throw on the tatters of your dress, and on bare feet you race as quickly and quietly as possible out the door, and down the hall. 

With your heart thundering in your ears you start rummaging through your drawers for that most essential of travel documents: your passport. The servants were not given access to lockers or any way to secure their belongings, so you’d hidden it in the bottom of your suitcase, inside a slit in the lining. As you stick your hand in it, fishing around, your hopes drop like a stone.

It’s gone. 

You feel again, frantic this time, finding once more–it’s not there. 

 “Missing something?”

Donaka’s voice from the doorway makes you start; you lose your balance, tumbling over on the floor. 

Anything you might say turns to ash on your tongue, as you look up at him, forbidding in a pair of black lounge pants, and nothing else. Why oh why does he have to be such a beautiful bastard? 

You realize there’s no lying to him, so you stick out your chin. “Where is it?” you demand. 

“In a safe place,” he answers, his lips pursing as he tries not to smile. “You have to admit…that wasn’t exactly secure.” He nods at your suitcase, and you clench your fist, the desire to hit him burning real in your bones. He made sure you didn’t have a safe place to put it. 

“How dare you?” He just rolls his eyes, and crosses the floor to you in two strides, pulling you up off the floor. 

“Come back to bed, darling. I was sleeping so peacefully before you had to go skulking around.”

“You can’t do this.” 

You’re not sure who you’re trying to convince–him, or you?

He just lifts an eyebrow, sweeping one of those big hands across your cheek, into your hair. His hold on you is just this side of menacing.  “There’s not a place in the world you could hide from me, y/n. Remember that.” 

He tugs on your hand…and fuck you, if you’re not so flabbergasted, you don’t follow him like a starstruck idiot, absolutely flummoxed by his nerve. 

Fine, you think. No passport? You just have to make it to your embassy. Surely they would put you in protective custody or something?

“You’ll never make it that far,” he tells you conversationally, his arm around your waist as you walk together down the hall. 

“Where?”

“The Embassy, of course.” 

Motherfucker. 

He makes you pause at the window in the living room with him, the first rays of dawn beginning to shine through the massive windows. The forest looks like a gilded emerald; the water beyond it a blanket of diamonds. He follows your gaze, taking in the marvelous sight. Shouldn’t it be storming outside? Rain falling down, on this bleak day? 

“How can you live with such an awful view?” he asks wryly, turning your attention back up to him. Before you can answer he kisses you, claiming your mouth for his as he presses you back against the window. His hand makes its way beneath your skirt, unimpeded as you did not take the time to even pull on your panties before making your escape from his bedroom. 

“Donaka…” you protest, feeling utterly exposed like this, in the big open room, with nothing but glass behind you. The rest of the staff will be waking soon. The thought of one of your colleagues walking in on you like this makes you want to die all over again. “Please not here…someone will see.” 

He scoffs at you, of course. “No one will interrupt us. This is my house. You are the only one here who never knew your proper place. We’re fixing that now.” 

A small sound escapes you, something between a whine and a growl. All it earns you is a hushed, dark laughter, and this terrible man lowers himself to his knees before you, pinning you against the glass with one large hand spanning your torso. He smirks up at you, delighting in your self-righteous rage, your tears of frustration glittering in the corners of your eyes. 

“What’s wrong?” he taunts you. “Isn’t this what you wanted all along? The bad man on his knees for you?” His smile is like a baring of teeth, and you both know who holds the real power here, no matter who is on their knees. His other hand has made its way up your thigh again, cupping your ass, squeezing hard enough to make you squirm against him, almost hurting you. 

“No,” you whimper, fighting the urge to cry, your legs about to collapse out from under you. 

“No?” he demands. “That’s not what I read.” His long fingers reach to test your center, finding your treacherous little cunt has cast her own vote for him yet again, moist and willing. You try to shy away but he pins you with his superior strength, utterly and completely.

“You missed the subtext,” you choke out, your heart breaking all over again. You were so resolved to fight the night before. That fire seems to have suffocated under the wet blanket of hopelessness again. 

“Were there underlying themes in all that filth?” he asks incredulously. 

Feeling idiotic all over again, your words lodge in your throat. But Donaka has paused in his ministrations, looking up at you with that laser-sharp gaze. “This isn’t what you wanted?” he asks with a deceptive gentleness. “My hands?” He pops the last buttons at the bottom of your dress, the garment gaping to bare all of you to his possessive gaze. “My mouth?” He presses an open-mouthed kiss to the curve of your lower belly, those plush lips upon your flesh making you tremble, curling your toes. He strums at your slick center, his sultry voice dropping low. “You didn’t want my cock to fill that aching emptiness inside you?” 

You writhe against the window, crying out as two of those clever fingers press up inside you, pleasuring you and pinning you as his tongue seeks out your needly little clit. You could murder him, for the way he makes you hate him and want him all in one breath.  

He stops as suddenly as he started, looking up at you expectantly. “Well?”  

You feel like the dumbest woman who ever walked the earth–but then, you suppose he already knew that about you. He’s had your measure from day one, and has simply been playing with you like a cat with a mouse ever since. Yet now, you would rather die than tell him what you’re really thinking. You shake your head tearfully, locking your heart up tight.

It doesn’t matter, because it seems this man can read your fucking mind. 

“Did you hope I would fall in love with you, y/n? You young, sweet thing.”

His words slide past your ribs and pierce your heart, deadly as a stiletto. You really were a fool. 

“Maybe I did want your love,” you admit, voice rough as you force it past the lump in your throat. “But all you want is submission.” 

He told you as much, over and over the night before. 

Yet he does not laugh at you, the way you expect him to. He looks up at you with such a weight in that dark gaze, you cannot breathe. “What is love, y/n? Do I not provide for you? Protect you? I let you talk to me with insouciance I would never tolerate from anyone else. I am not a tender man, but what little I have, I have given to you. Tell me, what is love, y/n?”

It’s almost as though he’s truly asking you.

Suddenly you feel as though the floor has dropped out from under you. Does he love you? Or is he just fucking with you, the way he has been the whole time you’ve been here? You need to make up your mind about this, because the whiplash of wondering is going to be the end of you. 

“Donaka…”

Then he narrows his eyes, that fire returned therein. “You are the one who taunted me with talk of leaving. Do you love me?”

“You scare me,” you finally answer, which should be a no…but isn’t exactly.  

“You knew all along what I am, deep down. You sensed it, even without proof. You could have fled, but you stayed. You know why, bunny?”

You make a keening sound as he curls his fingers inside you, tormenting you with another wet kiss to your clit. “Do you know why?” he demands again. 

You can hardly find your voice. “Why?”

“Because I fascinate you, the same way you fascinate me. I’m more than willing to try to fuck it out of our systems, but I suspect–” He presses your clit with his thumb, tearing a sob from your throat, stealing your ability to think, to breathe. Your head rocks back against the glass, hard enough to bruise.  “I’ll be keeping you for a long time.”

Then his tongue dips into your slit, lapping at your clit, and you forget everything for a long while.

[holylottie]

aching bones, aching teeth

masterlist [and warnings!]

PAIRING — Lottie Matthews x afab!reader

CHAPTER SINOPSIS — It's 2021, you try to take a grip of your life just like Lottie the past has taken a grip on your heart.

NOTE — english is not my first language, I apologize for any mistakes you might find. Please go read the tw's first! Thank you for reading :)

Chapter 01 — no spotlight shine as bright as her

2021

1, 2, 3, 4…

Your feet were aching.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, seeing you in a pretty leotard and flowy skirt, your ballet shoes leaking blood, staining your white tights like a sinner walking into heaven.

You were completely focused on the dance, watching every step with so much care that it was almost driving you into madness. You didn’t even blink, and your eyes were already swollen because of the lack of lubrication.

The song was fast, making you spin and spin around, dizzy and almost fainting, but that’s just how you always lived? on almost’s.

Your concentration couldn’t even be broken by the creatures showing up in the mirror. It was almost a copy of yourself, but with no face, a hair so long you couldn't see the end of it and always, always walking slowly, yet screaming louder and louder as she got farther and farther.

The lamuring lady — as you had used to call her (maybe thinking that naming something would give you power over it) — would drop thousands of teeth every time she opened her mouth to scream.

You got used to the sound, to her terrifying looks and behavior, however you could never look directly into her eyes.

They were the same as Lottie’s — and it was long ago since you've seen it.

As you expected it (but hoped it didn’t) everything changed after the rescue. Weirdly enough, you've felt more lost on your way back home than in the woods.

You never used the money. Perhaps it was a way to ensure a good future for yourself, to always have a big amount for emergencies or, perhaps, it was your way of hanging onto a piece of the past, of having a part of it to hold onto. Your fingernails were always bloody from the amount of strength you had to make to hold onto what you liked — so was your tongue, from how much you bit it.

5,6,7,8…

Your leg goes high, your bloody foot very close to your face, then you lower it, jumping in elegant hops around the rehearsal room.

You go to the left, count to three, to the other side, count to three, but when you put your leg to the side and spin, you count to two.

Once you finish it, breathing heavily, panting with your hip injury aching, you make the mistake of looking at the mirror. 

Her eyes, Lottie's eyes, burn your skin and you discover a fifth heel —the one where you cannot look at those orbs eternally, the one you live.

You hated to be alone at your house. 

There wasn't much to it, it wasn't lavish or too eccentric, it was just filled with paint brushes, partitures and broken ballerina shoes on the floor, it was like entering an artist’s mind: I made this and it feels, i made this and I have to bare the anger and godhood of creation.

You always thought you were over it, that you were truly healing  — until you stared at your paintings and your dance routine and you realized every movement you make, either with your foot or brush, was following the same pattern, the same symbol.

You look at your reflection in the mirror and wonder if being perceived by others is less terrifying than being known as one's own. You wish you could take a vacation from your body and mind as you turn the tv on and scroll the channels, looking for something to make you forget your problems for a bit.

Except it only worsens the problem once you see Taissa on the tv.

You stare at the commercial immobilized, like you were just put on hold.

You feel anger, a deep rotten eager to scream at her.

But again, who were you to complain about Taissa on the tv? You were at the stage almost every week, you relished on the importance of the spotlight’s —relished on having the attention, but not being truly seen.

You were nothing but your art, perhaps Tai was the same: nothing but her morals. You would not take that away from her, you had a piece of you stolen once. You wouldn't be the one holding the knife.

When you are on the stage, you don’t feel anything but pure bliss. 

To be seen by so many people in awe was almost as good as being looked at by Lottie, you loved it, to remember the sensation of having the sun itself perceiving you — shining just for you.

You loved all kinds of arts, even if you had a degree in biology. You liked to know how the brain feels, not how it works. Besides, Lottie always enjoyed more art than science.

In small moments, where you weren't the center of attention, you would steal glances of the public — you would pretend she was there, cheering you up, calling your name, simply looking at you with that smile of hers.

You would pretend you haven’t lost it all when they found you.

Too many thoughts would come to your mind when you were on stage. Today, you were thinking about your blood donations from yesterday, you thought that when being cut with the needle and given to another, the receiving end would feel this new blood boiling with the aching, with the need of being seen. 

Will your blood carry your love for Lottie? 

Will they bite their own hands and suck every drop of it in hopes of getting out this thirst for an unknown woman? 

Your soul ached for hers like an earthquake.

Your eyes tear a bit, would God forgive you for your sins? 

You shake your head while spinning, God’s forgiveness didn’t mattered — only her, only her mattered.

You heard a new voice once you reached the backstage.

— I’m Jessica Roberts, from Star Ledger, you know? 

She got her hand out to you, her eyebrows getting higher. You take her hand. She had a tight grip but soft fingers, not really the type of finger that types so much like she claims she does.

— Not really if I’m being honest.

— Well, we work with stories. 

Oh, you see where this is going to go.

— I appreciate your presence, but no. — you needed to get her out of here, so you walked to the door, opening it.

She takes a deep breath, already tired, and you can imagine you're not the first she had seen today. 

— Don’t you wish to take it all out? Once it’s gone, no one will ever bother you anymore.

Or they will bother you more, you think.

— I understand your need for truth, but I don’t want that, I want to just bleed —I’m tired of making red paint out of my wounds.

Jessica looks at you puzzled, but she nods and gets out silently. You knew she would come back.

— But hm, thank you for the flowers!

— What flowers? — she frowns and so do you.

You hide it quickly with a smile.

— Nothing, don't worry, have a nice night!

Once she gets away, you turn around, if those flowers weren’t hers then who sent you? You didn’t have those types of friends and distanced yourself from all your family. 

You get close to the pretty bouquet, taking it onto your hand and opening the letter.

Inside of it there was a postcard.

A postcard with the symbol on it.

[dojunie]

MESSENGER, HRJ [PT 8: SHH!]

➥ PART 8 OF MESSENGER; a small smau about a stranger, a whole lot of animal pics, and a relationship you would never have expected to come from texting a random number written on a public bathroom mirror.

➥ WC: 3.4K

[PREVIOUS PART] [INFO/MASTERLIST] [NEXT PART]

a/n: double update AGAIN bc i took forever to update 🤠

current tl: @matchahyuck @theboyz-jacob @hoeshi17 @neoteez01 @hibernatinghamster @luvvsnae @shwizhies @skynightgalaxy @ihrtnyu @kunvibing @liliansun @txpxwxk @is4b3ll3s @rxnexxi @rum-gone-why @she-is-dreaming @chenfleur @haedgaff @twogyuu @jeongintwt @rinrinslovebot

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RENJUN HAS NEVER WANTED TO STRANGLE SOMEONE MORE THAN HE DOES RIGHT NOW.

There were almost tangible beams of heat drilling into the side of Donghyuck’s head as Renjun glared at him from across the table, while the man in question smiled and flirted and chatted with his girlfriend like absolutely nothing was amiss. Birds were chirping. The sun was shining. There wasn’t a single cloud in the sky, and students were wandering around in the quad outside without a care in the world—

—And yet, he still felt like he was seconds away from being executed.

Had Renjun’s mind not already been obliterated from the test he’d just taken in his last class, he might’ve been more suspicious of Donghyuck’s text. Because Lee Donghyuck? Asking him if he was free to study? On a Friday? 

However, a few hours of studying simply didn’t sound too bad after just barely escaping English Lit with his average intact, which meant he didn’t smell the blood in the water until it was too late— when he’d stumbled upon the rather quiet corner that Donghyuck told him to head towards instead of their usual spot on the first floor. (And this should have been another clue, as Hyuck has only ever wanted to study near the vending machines on the rare occasions Renjun could convince him to open a book, but like any normal human being, he wasn’t thinking that this random change in scenery would lead to this.)

He rounded the corner, saw Donghyuck, saw Doyeon, and then saw you, and instantly felt like he'd just walked into the universe's idea of cruel joke.

Why? Well. Because the only logical solution after realizing how badly he'd fucked up by not immediately telling you who he was after the volleyball game— the double life he’d accidentally started by being too embarrassed to tell you in fear of… everything, really— had been to just... never see you again.

As stupid as it sounds, like some plot from a teen movie, it was the only thing he could think to do that wouldn't make things worse.

Renjun would quicker die than tell you this, but he'd gotten used to you. He'd grown familiar with always having you in his head, accustomed to your endless exclamations, used to how his mood would shift for the better every time your message bubble appeared on his screen— and the idea of losing you because of something so stupid made his stomach squirm like nothing he'd ever felt before. To keep you in his life as Duckboy he'd have to stay out of your way as Renjun, and if those were the stakes then he'd take his chances.

He'd just avoid you like the plague. That was fine. He could do that.

(Since he's never seen you in real life before this week, it probably won't even be that hard, he thought. Right?)

Right.

Hence the reason his heart just about exploded in his chest when he saw you sitting in this library seat. 

A few minutes have passed since then, original panic ebbing into tightly-wound stress as the seconds ticked by with you not even a foot away from him. 

He initially thought that if he just acted really serious about studying, you might keep your distance. If he glued his nose to his textbook and said nothing, pretended you weren’t there, entirely at the expense of looking like an uptight dork but hopefully putting you off from wanting anything to do with him— he might get out of this unscathed.

He felt you looking at him. He’d even caught you nearly say something to him once, watching you open your mouth out of the corner of his eye, before you thought better of it and slouched back down in your seat, frowning.

For a while it worked. But as he honestly should’ve known about you by now, if your messages were anything to go by— your curiosity could only be so subdued.

“What course is that for?”

You leaned into Renjun’s side of the table. 

He tore his eyes away from the textbook he wasn’t focusing on to look at you, and is wholly embarrassed by how easily his indifferent facade cracks.

The worst part of it all is knowing that if he wasn't such a coward, you might've been halfway to being friends by now. Maybe this would have been it. But instead he set himself up for this: You, sitting at his side, asking him questions and talking to him and entwining yourself further and further into his space with the obvious intent of getting to know him better, without the slightest idea that you already knew him. You know where he was born. You know his hobbies, his favorite animals and least favorite foods; you know about the difficulties he has with brother, and because it’s easier to tell things to strangers on the internet, you know things about him that not even his own family knows.

Except you don’t really feel like a stranger to him anymore.

“I can’t recognize like half the words on that page. This is math, right?”

“Applied Statistics,” he replied feebly. 

There were some things that couldn't be translated through a phone, though. Like the clear lilt of your voice without the tin of a receiver. How much you seem to fidget; biting pen caps, tapping the table with your fingers, bouncing the balls of your feet against the carpeted floor. Your lack of respect for personal space. He’s hit by a blast of your shampoo or perfume (Honey, like you told him you put in your tea? Vanilla?) as you bow your head closer to oogle at his side of the table.

“Have you ever seen the Davinci Code?" you asked. "All that equation gibberish that was floating around the Mona Lisa in that really, really, ridiculously long monologue scene near the beginning?”

He has never seen the Davinci Code. He nods anyway. 

“This looks like that. You actually understand this stuff?”

“It’s an advanced course,” Donghyuck cut in suddenly. Both you and Renjun turn to look at him; you in interest, he, with irritation hastily returning. “You have to take a test to even get a chance to take that class because it counts for like, three math credits, instead of the one like the rest of us losers have to contend with. Renjun here is pretty smart, you know?”

Fuck off, he wanted to bite— but then you hummed and nodded beside him like this made sense, and he temporarily forgot his venom.

“Probably why I haven’t seen you around,” you told him casually. “I don’t tend to attract people with more than two brain cells to rub together, if not already obvious by my friendship with these two.”

Doyeon gasped and reached across the table to swat at you, and you flung yourself closer to Renjun to get out of her reach. You’re giggling brightly as you begin to bicker with her, the same laugh that’s been swirling around in his mind since that night you called him— and again, his irritation slips away at the familiar sound. Though, instead of it being recouped by the slushy feeling he usually got when he thought about your laugh— he’s struck by even more guilt.

The only reason Renjun already knows what you sound like is because you called Duckboy that night. 

The reason he’s so sure he’s smelling honey and vanilla is because you told Duckboy that those were your favorite scents. 

The reason he knows that math isn’t your strong suit isn’t because you just told Renjun that you find it hard— it’s because you told Duckboy a few days ago that you flunked two math courses in your freshman year, and that it really knocked the wind out of your sails. It was something you told him in sincerity, the first time he’d ever noticed a waver in your usually boisterously confident persona and the sheepish way you brought him a little closer; how Renjun had to fight to keep from grinning when you got flustered afterwards and made him promise not to make fun of you for it. 

‘I only tell people that I really trust about that,’ you’d texted him later, ‘So don’t go around making me regret it!!!’

And now he was repaying your sincerity by lying straight to your face. If that wasn’t grounds for regret, he didn’t know what was.

His stomach was in knots by the time he was snapped out of it, to the sound of Donghyuck’s muffled wailing. Muffled because Doyeon’s hand is clamped over his mouth, the girlfriend in question staring at him, wide eyed, as if he’s just done something awfully stupid— and judging by the pinched look on your face as Renjun chanced a glance at you, he might not have been too far off.

“Kim Doyeon,” you whispered, betrayed.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry— Shit, I thought you were kidding! Was your little phone-rendezvous seriously supposed to be a secret?”

What? Renjun lost the plot. He has no idea where the conversation has gone. Donghyuck manages to wrangle Doyeon’s hands from his mouth, enough for him to gasp a needed breath, and then out comes a howl that echoes throughout the high ceilings of the SNU Technical Library.

“You have a cyber-boyfriend?”

Turns out that the corner that Donghyuck picked for his study session was not nearly as secluded and confined and soundproof as you all thought. Ten seconds later and you were being run out of the library by the little, hawkish, very red in the face floor attendant. Twenty seconds later, poor Renjun has somehow ended up saddled with Donghyuck’s bag as you and Doyeon chase him around the front steps of the building, shouting obscenities over his lack of decorum— and another twenty seconds later the four of you are walking back to the dormitory block, Donghyuck’s ears pinched pink and the conversation having shifted back to normalcy.

You hadn’t really been planning to study today. You honestly hadn’t been planning to do much of anything really, besides vedge out in your dorm room with a bag of frozen peas on your ribs (courtesy of Duckboy’s quick thinking, though you’d never tell him that) since only two short days have passed since the game and you were still plenty sore.

But Doyeon, in her text, had offhandedly mentioned that this Renjun guy would be coming, and your sudden openness to cracking open a book surprised the both of you. She, because the last time you willingly agreed to study with her and Donghyuck was… Never, and you because you weren’t expecting the mere idea of seeing Hyuck’s friend again to make studying sound like less like torture.

You’d be lying if you said your mind hasn’t run across him since the game. Nothing nefarious, of course. Just vague curiosity. Interest. Mostly around how, with a face as cute as his, it was possible you’d never noticed him around campus before; or just why the hell he’d been acting so weird when you met. Plus other innocent questions, like what he got up to in his free time if he was allegedly as reclusive as Donghyuck had joked. Like if he read books. Or played an instrument. 

Or if he had a girlfriend. 

(You know. Completely harmless things like that.)

Then he’d appeared in the library corner a little bit after you’d gotten there, looking properly studious in his little denim jacket, books huffed up under his arm and bag slung over his shoulder— but also just as stiff and sickly as he’d been upon seeing you a few nights ago. 

It was like your mere presence put him on edge but you had no idea why, and this little study session confirmed that it wasn’t just a first-meeting-jitters thing. He didn’t seem to relax for a single second back there at the study table, and pondering the list of possibilities began to drive you a little crazy. 

(Did you smell bad? It couldn’t be. You’d showered before you left your room, and even spritzed an extra burst of your honey chamomile perfume since you knew you’d be in close proximity to him today. Were you too pushy? Hopefully not— you’d been trying your damnedest to be on good behavior, only asking the most mundane of questions to hold yourself back from voicing any thought that grazed your brain like you usually did with potential friends; and he’d been responding in kind. He wasn’t weird around girls, since he seemed to talk to Doyeon just fine— So what’s the deal?)

You didn’t get any closer to answering that question like you’d hoped you would before the session was over, but that was no matter. All today had done was cement in your brain that, whether he was just a natural introvert or if it really was something about you that ticked him the odd way— you’d die before you gave up on figuring it out.

Maybe a little dramatic. But that’s just how much you hated being left in the dark.

After Donghyuck had gotten you all kicked out of the library (and you’d socked him good for the ‘cyber-boyfriend’ comment), the consensus had been to just call it quits on studying for the day. Fine with you. You didn’t mind an hour to kill before practice, anyway.

You’ve ended up beside Renjun again as the four of you wandered down the path that led you back to student housing. Hyuck and Doyeon were a few steps ahead, mumbling about something you weren’t quite close enough to hear, until Doyeon cursed. 

“Of course I would remember now,” she whined. It was only when she stopped to turn, eyebrows knit as she found your face, that you even realized she was talking to you. “Statistics. Statistics. That’s what I was forgetting to tell you in the library. I got a text from Guyeon a few hours ago complaining about a pop quiz that her statistics professor set on her this morning, and I remembered you two were taking the same course but on different days— the whole reason I even asked you if you were free to study with us today was to tell you that so you could prepare.”

“Statistics?” you echoed. “Like… Stats 204? Professor Yubin’s Stats 204?”

She winced, damning confirmation, and when it finally hit you almost gasped aloud. You have a pop quiz tomorrow?

“So?” Donghyuck asked. “Just study for it tonight? Aren’t you free for the rest of the day?”

“No, dipshit,” you hissed, dread steadily rising, “Considering that your girlfriend is the captain of the team, you should already know that Doyeon and I have practice in an hour that doesn’t end until six! Not to mention that studying doesn’t really help when you barely understand the material in the first place—”

“Aren’t his quizzes pretty short though?” Renjun asked quietly.

It was obvious that he wasn’t expecting any of you to hear him, from the way he froze when all three of your heads whirled in his direction, but you did. You heard him loud and clear. 

“What was that?” you asked quickly. His face seemed to pale three shades at the sudden intensity of your stare. 

“Have you… Taken? Statistics 204 before?”

“Uh—I… Yes? But it was in freshman year, I mean, it was a while ago—”

“But you took it,” Donghyuck interrupted, voice suddenly very, very pointed. You glanced at him. Hyuck’s face was now the perfect picture of interest, a carefully neat and somehow still nefarious grin tugging at his lips. “Right, Jun? And like I said, Y/N, Renjun here is a real star when it comes to numbers. Did I already tell you he has a 4.0 too? That he was a tutor last year?”

Your eyes widened further. He was a tutor? He was that smart? 

Foolishly you asked in what subject, knowing the answer wouldn’t sway your sudden bubbling desperation either way, but you felt it right to ask— and Donghyuck’s smile only widened further. 

“Math.”

“I stopped tutoring though,” Renjun blurted quickly, as if only now realizing where this was going, and you turned back to him to catch his expression morphing into clear alarm. “I only did it for a few months because the STEM board asked me to fill in a spot, I’m not any authority or anything—”

“The school asked you to tutor people?”

“I feel like that should make you a very big authority,” Doyeon chimed. “Maybe the biggest authority, actually.”

“Well shit,” Donghyuck said cheerily. “And aren’t you free for the rest of the day, Renjun? Isn’t that just the craziest coincidence that Y/N could use a study buddy tonight?”

And for the first time in the very short amount of hours you’ve known this guy, as Renjun whirled to look at Donghyuck, you saw a cast on his face that wasn’t vague discomfort or straight up horror. It was a look you didn’t even know Renjun’s face could make— and the pure, burning disdain written all over his features was enough to snap you out of your blind hope.

His expression couldn’t be any clearer; Renjun did not want to be volunteered.

Which… duh, you suppose in hindsight. If he couldn’t even sit next to you in the library without looking like he was waiting to exploded, then what type of torture would it be to study with you alone? Sure, you were desperate for any chance to not fail this quiz, but the last thing you wanted to do was force the guy into your space when he obviously wasn’t too sure about you yet. Ideally, you wanted to win him over naturally. Not through Donghyuck’s odd meddling. 

Before Donhyuck could say anything and make it worse, you shook your head and forced as big a smile as you could manage.

“That’s alright,” you said, casually waving a dismissive hand, “I got it. I, uh… I have another friend who can help me out, anyway— I’d hate to spring something on someone so last minute!”

You felt Doyeon’s pointed eyes on the side of your face, narrowed in obvious disbelief— because you were lying through your teeth and she knew that you had no friends who were taking Stat 204 this semester, much less any who’d ever volunteer to help you study on a Friday night— but instead of acknowledging her suspicion, you avoided her gaze altogether and restarted the walk back to the dorms.

“What?” Hyuck whined belatedly. He stared at you as if he couldn’t believe whatever he was scheming didn’t work. “But— But Renjun is literally—”

“Forget it,” you interrupted. “I have no interest in taking up his night with the hell that is reversed variables. Doyeon and I have to be at practice soon and I still want to eat, so can we get a move on?”

This thankfully seemed to be the end of the conversation, even if Donghyuck was huffing and puffing the whole way back to the dorms; Doyeon next to you now since your sudden speed walking had shifted you to the front. You knew she had things to say about all of that but you kept your eyes forward. (It wasn’t like she wasn’t going to have an entire afternoon to interrogate you in the gym during practice, anyway. God.)

The two boys paused on the pathway as you and Doyeon branched off towards your own building, Donghyuck making all sorts of crying noises and loud declarations of love as Doyeon walked on and tried to look annoyed about it (clearly failing, if the pink in her ears was anything to go by), while Renjun just stared off after you like the entire weight of the world was on his shoulders. 

Almost as if realizing he was being odd again he rebooted, blinking it out of his eyes and nodding you goodbye in proper quiet fashion, you couldn’t find it in yourself to be too off put by it. 

(Mostly because his lip pulled into the tiniest smile as he waved, and the sight of it was cute enough to make you forget. What can you say? You’re a simple girl.)

If it turned out that there really was a reason for how curious he was being, you were sure you’d figure it out soon enough. You were rather good and sleuthing out secrets— and Renjun was the most intriguing puzzle you’d come across in a long time.

[PREVIOUS PART] [INFO/MASTERLIST] [NEXT PART]

[cosmos-coma]

Seized- Part 1

A/N: I... am not gonna lie. I struggled a bit to set this one up. probably because now I’m working 10 hour days and am brain dead after work, but I want to thank @simpxinnie for the series request and I hope to do it well for you!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Words: 1285

Summary: Its the 1940s and Bucky’s infantry gets some surprise members, one of which he seems absolutely taken with

Part 1 | Part 2 |

______________________________

“Alright boys, apparently because the other infantries have been getting their asses absolutely handed to them lately, headquarters has a bit of a surprise for us…” Bucky’s commander yelled as he walked the line of soldiers in front of him. Mumbles of curiosity came from all around as his fellow soldiers made guesses of what it might be, but none of them could have guessed what came next.

“Alright, bring ‘em on in!” The commander yelled, waving his hand as a small infantry of women marched out to stand before them, led by their own commander with patches and medals to rival them all. Your infantry was not large by any means, but at this point in the war the more hands they could bring in the better. 

Lately, the men in 107th had been growing stagnant in their position, unable to gain any ground, but not losing any either. Bucky could see that his soldiers and friends were starting to lose hope of ever doing more, but with any luck, this will shake things up enough to get them back on their toes.

The rumbling chatter came from the lines of men behind him, some less excited than others, but no one dared speak up in the other group's presence. 

Bucky’s eyes scanned the various forms and faces of your visiting troop, stone-like expressions unwavering as their commander spoke up. “Alright, ladies. Put your things in your new barracks and take the afternoon to familiarize yourself with the base. Training will continue tomorrow morning at 0700. Now fall out!” She yelled with a robust tone, waving her hand in dismissal.

But Bucky couldn’t take in any of her words as you in particular caught his attention. He’s not sure why it was you that snagged his gaze; perhaps it was the softness evident in you despite your stoic eyes. Or maybe it was that you still looked like you could kick his ass either way.

Your skin shuddered just a bit as if you were being watched, but how could you not be? The eyes of men waved all over you and your sisters in arms, many wary, a few perverted, and one- oh. 

And one pair of bright blue eyes that seemed to jump out from the rest. Their gaze not wary, nor perverted, but maybe… curious? You shot a knowing look his way as your eyes locked and, your lips quirked up in a small smile. 

The ranks broke as both your commanders dismissed you and a mass of bodies going in all different directions filled the common space between. People bumped into Bucky here and there and in all the commotion he must’ve lost your face in the crowd. “Damn it...” he muttered under his breath, looking around in one last ditch effort, but you were long gone.

----- 

You hummed softly as you wandered the base. You had hoped to familiarize yourself with your new home, but you were far too distracted to take anything in. The trees that rustled leaves above you, even the passing of strangers didn't seem to register to your brain. Your mind was still clouded by those darling blues you had caught starting just an hour ago. Who did those curious eyes belong to? and did their smile shine just as bright?

You were so caught up in your questions and thoughts that you barely realized you had run right into those very same eyes. “Oh! My apologies, I guess I’ve been a little….” your words trailed off as you took him in up close now. Dimpled chin with the hint of stubble beginning to make itself known, ruffled hair that your fingers just ached to run through, and… and far sweeter eyes than you had caught earlier. 

“It’s you…” you remarked with an odd sense of both surprise and knowing.. 

“It’s me?” his laughter rumbled quietly out of his chest, a small smile playing on his lips.

Your lips couldn’t help but reflect that same easy smile, moving as if they had a mind of their own. “Yeah, you who I caught staring at me earlier,” you said, arms crossing over your chest. 

An almost bashful look crossed over Bucky’s face as you called him out, your playful tone turning into a teasing one. 

You held your hand out as you introduced yourself, “I’m a Corporal.” you added. 

Bucky’s grip was firm as he shook your hand, giving an extra flirting squeeze as he began to pull back. “Sergent Barnes… but you can call me Bucky,” his handsome smile and tone, while charming, definitely felt practiced. 

“You warm up this fast to all your fellow soldiers, Sergent?” you asked, you raised your eyebrow at him as you made a point to use his title.

“Nah, just the special ones,” he grinned as he spoke. Truthfully, he didn’t even mean to pull out his ‘pick-up moves’ on you, it just seemed to come naturally as he found himself wanting to get closer and closer to you. 

“Ah…  well this special one is bound to be gone soon, so you may want to save your lines for someone else, Barnes.” Your smile was modest as you you continued your walk, glancing back for just a moment to see him turn to quickly fall into step beside you.

“.... What do you mean you’ll be gone soon?” 

Your shoulders bumped into his as you walked side by side down the thin path, “Our commander says that as soon as we’ve helped you guys push the line far enough that we’re off to the next infantry to do the same thing…” you said with a short shrug, but he could see heavier things bouncing around your head for just a moment. And for some reason, something changed just a bit inside Bucky when he heard that, and at once his lines all dropped away. 

“Well… do you want me to show you around? I can show you the best spots for hiding from your commander.” 

A softer smile graced your lips now as his voice became more humbled and sincere, “I would like that,” you nodded. 

You bumped his shoulder once more, intentional this time, and he began to lead you around. Your strides moved in time as he pointed out his favorite hiding spots, but you could barely focus next to him. Your eyes followed his arm as he pointed to another building that looked just the same as the last twelve- but your gaze quickly kept gravitating back to the slope of that jaw and the light-hearted ease of that smile.

His eyes just caught you at the edge of his vision, his toothy smile widening in a way he could never hope to hide from you. You two stole glances at each other throughout the rest of the tour, seemingly besotted with the idea of each other, just like schoolchildren. 

Ding Ding Ding

The dinner bell began to ring.

“Dinner already? But we only just arrived,” you said to yourself, checking your watch, only to see that you’d been walking together for hours already. “Oh, shit…” 

A snort of laughter came from your newfound companion and Bucky waved you along, “come on… we can keep talking on the way to the mess hall,” He offered as he held out his arm to you, A simple but gentlemanly gesture that left your heart fluttering for a beat.

Without hesitation, your hand wrapped around his arm, your thumb brushing over the soft fabric of his uniform. His grin was bright like the sun as he felt you accept his offer but quickly worked to tamp it down before he let on too much. And like that, hand in arm, you followed his steps side by side to the mess hall.

________________________

Bucky Taglist: @writingmysanity​ @simpxinnie

Wanna be added to a certain Taglist? DM me to let me know!

[catboyclarity]

feel free to ignore if this is too personal of a question but

what is the structure of your relationship with your fiance like? Im demiro and i romantically love with someone who thinks they might be aro, so i guess i just want to learn about other relationship types and structures, to see if something could work out for me. and i figured id ask you what its like since youre aro and getting married.

I’m alright answering this and I do appreciate you considering me for guidance on the subject. Putting the rest under a cut for Long.

For context, I id as aromantic/greyromantic (I do not and have not experienced romantic attraction. At all. Ever. But I like relationships.) pansexual, and Alek, my fiancé IDs as gay and asexual. It has never bothered me that Alek is not sexually attracted to me and vice versa it does not bother Alek that I am not romantically attracted to them. The relationships terms are not really defined very much differently than what you’d picture for a typical romantic relationship, partly because I didn’t realize the aro thing until I’d been with Alek for many years.

However that does not mean I navigate/view the relationship the same way an alloromantic person would: the best example of this is like. So I view the "romantic trappings" of the relationship, things like cuddling, kissing, romantic language as essentially fun extras. To me the point of being in a relationship was to get to hang out with your most favorite friend (my first """"""romantic crush""""""" in high school came from me going "i like him a lot. i want to talk to him all the time. it kind of feels like I want him to be my best friend? but i already have a best friend. i must have romantic feelings for him.") all of the time. I did not realize that many people--including Alek!--do need those things to feel truly part of a relationship, and don't just view it as side quests or Sexy Roleplay.

This meant that at one point Alek had to specifically be like "I am your boyfriend. I want you to kiss me and be loving with me." which like. generally alloromantic people do not need to be told this because for them a major part of wanting to be in a relationship is feeling the drive to do that stuff with a specific person, as I have come to slowly, tediously understand over the course of years. There's other things like this from us on both sides, but what it really all comes down to is we both need to do a lot of extra communication on stuff that I think in other relationships would be basically understood.

And while the extra work is at times frustrating and at times we have hurt each other, we don't mind it because ultimately, what matters to me and what matters to Alek is that we get to BE WITH each other in any capacity. I'm fine with the relationship being defined as romantic: I would be fine with the relationship if it was defined as queerplatonic: I would be fine with the relationship if it was defined as "best friends who make out and go to the grocery store together": at this point I trust Alek enough that I'd be fine if the relationship wasn't defined at all.

I think what matters for you here, is what you want and what the person you love wants. Do they want to BE WITH you? Do you want to BE WITH them? If so, what do both of you need to feel comfortable and fulfilled? The only people who can answer these questions are the two of you, together, but I hope what I've said can shine some light on things.

[lgcmjun]

WORKSHOP OPPORTUNITY 001:

“thank you for having me”, minjun offered, as soon as he closed the door behind him. his voice was surprisingly calm due to the weight of what was about to happen in the next moments. it could define his future and he just hoped he’d do well.

he should be nervous and that would be his normal reaction, considering that was a concrete chance for him to shine and be acknowledged by his coaches, but that didn’t come - he was more anxious than nervous as he took the steps toward the coach, sitting on a chair, having only a table separating them.

minjun offered them another polite bow and waited for them to start talking and the questions didn’t take long to come.

what do you think are your strengths right now? 

he didn’t have to give it much thought to answer that - truthfully they were the only options because they were obvious. “my dancing would come in the first place. there’s always room for improvement, but i do believe with the help of my coaches i’m becoming more confident in accomplishing whatever routine we’re supposed to learn. my singing would come second and i strongly believe i fell for my singing voice once i realized what i should do to improve and i can say i’m confident that since my first video, so much has changed. and last but not least, none of those two mentioned would be as important as performing. if i ever had any doubt about becoming an idol, after performing during my time here, especially during the last family con, i think i don’t have it anymore. i like to think i’m good at keeping the audience entertained but also being part of the show as an important piece of a whole scenario.”

what are three skills that you would like to work on starting 2024? 

“rapping, i wanna get in touch with rhymes and the flow, i believe the coaches and some of my fellow trainees could help me improve and along with that i need to work more on my music composition, so i can write my own verses and give you a perspective of how i see everything around me. i don’t want just to repeat other people’s words, i want to write my own. along with these, i feel i should practice my english, i should put more effort into learning and improving since i aim to be part of a global group, this way it gets less burdensome to others and i can communicate better with the fans.”  

if given a chance, what types of gigs would you be interested in participating? 

minjun sounded mostly excited to answer that and with a smile, he promptly did it, “variety and hosting a podcast! i have this idea you know and i don’t know if i can talk about this informally, but i would love to join one of those culinary shows, i like cooking and i think if there’s any cooking show i would love to join and show my talents. as for podcasts, i’m always interested in knowing people, and perhaps help them, either by giving advice and yes, i’m aware i’m still young but you know we shouldn’t be taken for granted, some of us do have good things to say and i would love to be part of a podcast where we could give young people advice or just interview them, and learn more about whatever they do.”

during your time here in legacy, what are some of the lessons that you've learned about yourself? 

minjun let out a sigh and it was not at all something bad. he’s thinking about his journey until these days and with his answer he hoped he could show his sincerity. “i learned we’re never alone and some might think that this means we’re always being watched and yes we are but it’s not a bad thing. i learned that i’m not alone and it’s okay to lean on other people and ask them for help. but it’s not just a move that we make, i learned i grew more open to welcoming my fellow trainees that ask for help and understood that i can also be someone people use as an inspiration. but above all, i learned to be more confident and that harsh words aren’t always an attempt to bring you down, but a way to make you grow a tough skin, so you will be someone stronger, focused, and complete.”

[mionemymind]

Such a good race but 5 DNF’s is so unfortunate. And I absolutely love that Max is just proving to everyone that he is the reason he’s winning races not because of his car. Honestly I think the best looking car on track was McLaren and they were really putting in some work. I was sad Oscar couldn’t get on podium but damn were those Mercedes really flying on those laps. That double overtake by Albon might be the coolest thing I’ve seen, he made it look so smooth.

Just realized the next race is on my birthday I’m so excited. Also my oldest sister was obsessed with zombie apocalypse scenarios and how to survive. I truly believe if it came down to it I would haul ass to her house. Please don’t be upset but I didn’t get past season 2 of The Walking Dead. The only real knowledge I have is from when my mom use to give me an unwanted recap every episode.

Have a great week and don’t stress yourself out. Again thank u for this steady engagement we have going back and forth it’s like talking to a friend. Always so happy when I see u respond really means a lot to me.

-S

McClaren's silver era that was unveiled during the British GP was one of my damn favorites. Shit looked so nice to me. And I WISHED Albon had more funding and a better car. Like, he seriously has a lot of great talent but too bad there's barely any moments where he can show that. But that overtake was one of those rare moments that he really shined!!

Maybe I should post something on your birthday, whether it be your request or just a post in general. I need to start posting more because I have ideas that need to be shared. Just writing the filler part SUCKS!!

And literally, do not apologize for that show. I think I quit after Neegan arrived. Shit pissed me off so badly that I stopped watching the show.

And what do you mean like? We ARE friends, at least I hope you feel that way!! Talk to you later S!!

[shanie]

TEASER THURSDAY!!!

(As tagged by @afterdarkprincess, although they tagged me for Tuesday. Whoops)

Anyway, have something I just wrote that's meant to be part of the next chapter of "A Lovely Bella Giorno"!

Rating T for language.

It had taken ten minutes that time to get to the restaurant.

Thankfully, blessedly even, Generico didn’t go out of his way to keep them away from it. That said, he also didn’t help, but luckily, the place was a straight shot from the hotel, and visible from the road before the intersection for the plaza he needed to turn into.

Unfortunately, that plaza had something else in it.

“NO!” Kevin barked as Generico gestured frantically at the colorful signage for the comic shop in the nearby section of strip mall. “I am not getting you any more comics. Have you even finished the ones you got from the free day?”

“No. Saboreando,” Generico replied, and, sure enough, Kevin no sooner had the car parked than Generico had his seatbelt off and the door opened, heading in the direction of the store.

Fuck, Kevin thought, quickly turning the car off and getting out himself.

“HEY!” he called after his friend, who was already halfway there, “Are they even open? Generico it’s almost 6:00!”

If Generico was listening... well, there was no if about it. Generico wasn’t listening, not in the slightest, and, with a long, suffering sigh, Kevin headed after his partner towards the comic shop.

....

The trip had been mercifully quick. The store was getting ready to close for the day and Generico hadn’t had much time to look. But, somehow, Generico had managed to find an issue of Spider-Man that was both Spider-Man AND Fairy Tails.

And it was issue #1.

“That’s the only one of those you are getting, I hope you know,” Kevin told his partner as they left the store, hearing the telltale sound of the front door being locked behind them, “the cover on that looks scary enough, I’m not dealing with you having nightmares because you got messed up by a comic book.”

Generico wasn’t listening, AGAIN, instead humming something to himself.

Kevin rolled his eyes hard enough he might have sprained them.

“Come on, we came here for dinner, you can’t just – ”

Kevin stopped short when he realized what Generico was humming.

“That’s Superman!” Kevin told his partner, “Not Spider-Man.”

Generico stopped walking and stared. “Que?”

Kevin stopped as well, rubbing at his forehead and shaking his head. “The song. That’s the Superman movie theme. How do you even know about that, anyway, it came out before we were born?”

“Que?” Generico asked again, still confused.

“SUPERMAN! When the hell, no, how the hell have you seen the Superman movies?”

Generico grinned, and, with a giggle, leaned forward close enough that Kevin could feel Generico’s breath against his face.

“Videocinta,” the luchador laughed, “VCR”

“What is Vaysayerray? If you’re gonna be annoying about shit, at least be annoying in a language I understand!”

If Kevin was getting irritated, Generico was getting the opposite, somehow, smiling wider and, as he moved to stand in front of Kevin, his friend captured his hands and looked right at him with dark eyes that Kevin swore looked like they were shining with the setting sun.

“Tapes,” Generico said softly. “Abuela tapes.”

Oh, Kevin thought.

VCR.

Stupid Spanish put an extra sound on the end of the R.

Spanish pissed him off so much. Sometimes, the words made sense. A little. But most of the time it was just complete nonsense to him. They kept doing dumb shit like adding sounds and letters to the end of words.

Then again, it wasn’t like Generico had ever wrapped his head around the silent letters of his language, so maybe fair was fair.

Maybe they were just doomed to never understand each other.

But really, even without words, they still did. Generico would look at him and he’d just know… and at that moment, the way that Generico’s eyes were shin- no, glowing, melted Kevin’s heart immediately.

He couldn’t be angry, he couldn’t be. Not when Generico was looking at him like that.

... granted, Kevin wasn’t entirely sure what “that” all entailed, but it really didn’t matter much. Generico had gotten his comic book which, remarkably, he had paid for.

A comic book that was in a bag hanging from Generico’s wrist... that was still connected to Kevin’s own via a pair of disturbingly tenderly held hands.

“Ok,” Kevin said, shaking his hands free, “You win. You’ve seen tapes. Of course you’ve seen tapes. Plus your parents probably had cable when you were little or something.”

“Nope,” Generico replied before, raising his hands, he made a gesture like an overhead antenna... and promptly smacked himself in the face with his bag.

Kevin tried not to laugh. Tried. Tried and failed.

“All right, buddy,” he said, tugging Generico’s arms back down to a reasonable level, “Let’s get your stuff in the car before you hurt yourself on it.”

Generico whimpered.

“We can’t take it into the restaurant, it’ll get ruined. I promise, we’ll put it in the backseat, in the pocket. Nobody will see it.”

“SI!”

Kevin smiled, a small sigh escaping him.

Generico really was impossible at times.

Impossible, infuriating, insufferable... Kevin thought, but, as he watched as Generico grinned broadly and headed back to the car, his arms swinging as he practically skipped across the parking lot, one more word came to mind.

Irreplaceable.

[fantasyinvader]

I think hearing about the Hunters arc put the final nail in the coffin for me watching TLoU. It just feels like such a departure from the first game and it's messages.

Hear me out on this. In the first game, we escape Boston with Ellie, meet Bill with a warning about how the Infected aren't the only thing we need to worry about. We get to Philly, and we're dealing with the Hunters. These people attack and kill anyone who enters their area without mercy, even willing to hunt down kids with a tank. We learn through exploration and examining the artifacts that this place was a QZ that FEDRA lost after the Fireflies rallied the people, only for the people to accuse the Fireflies of using them when they ordered Philly to start marching to "liberate" other QZs. In essence, this sets up something that does carry over into the second game.

The Infected aren't the real monsters here. Those are just zombies doing what zombies do. The real monsters are humans, specifically humans who prey on other humans. We get the Hunters, who purged their weak. We have David and the cannibals, eating people just like zombies. In Part 2, we have the WLF taking over Seattle and enslaving the people there, forcing them to live and work in a stadium in order to support the fascist militia. Not to mention the Rattlers, same thing on a smaller scale down in California.

Then we have the Fireflies, who were similar to the WLF and accused of using people as well. We know from the first game they recruited children, while the second tells us they were told by their superiors to do whatever it takes to win even if it felt like you were sacrificing part of yourself to do so. We see Jerry, the commander of the Salt Lake City Fireflies, tell this to his daughter Abby. If we pay attention in the hospital as we attempt to rescue Ellie, we can learn they wanted to kill Joel while he was unconscious despite, you know, Joel bringing them the girl. Joel wasn't their enemy, he did a job for them and they wanted to repay him with his death only to be spared by Marlene's intervention because she wanted Joel to absolve her for deciding to sacrifice Ellie. Joel didn't, and they tried to escort him out of the building without his supplies let alone any sort of payment. The Fireflies used Joel and were going to use Ellie.

I know the creators of the show want to go for a "everyone's a hero from their own POV" thing like Neil did with Part 2...but that doesn't work here. That wasn't the story of the first game. The first game we saw ever escalating cruelty from people who stopped valuing human lives. First the cartoonishly evil Hunters, then David's group appearing okay at first, then we see the Fireflies are not the heroes we might have initially thought they were. All these people lost their humanity and started preying on humans. Joel was an ex-hunter himself, but he left that to become a smuggler and then a father to Ellie. A father who wouldn't let his daughter be sacrificed (...like Jerry would have).

Joel was the hero as he regained his humanity and rejected the idea of sacrificing Ellie. She was a person, not a resource. Not the Hunters, not David, and not the Fireflies. With that last group, the show is just retconning so much. No "getting back our guns from them," instead it's "we need a car battery from them." The Hunters are seemingly not their fault now, and they're skipping the university chapter. You know, where their incompetence is starting to really shine as some dumbass decided to free monkeys that served as carriers to the CBI. If you have to do all this in order to make them "heroes," chances are they weren't in the first game. Neil must have finally realized that and did something other than making the doctor white to make him sympathetic.

Also, for a franchise that tries to bank on representation it sure does love killing off or screwing over it's minority characters.

[100percent-shell-oil]

I did not write these, I found them online but needed to share the good ones

It has been said that the definition of insanity is “doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results”. I understand the sentiment behind the saying, but it’s wrong. I entered the building on a bet. I was strapped for cash and didn’t buy into the old legends of the hotel to begin with, so fifty bucks was more than enough to get me to do it. It was simple. Just reach the top floor, the 45th floor, and shine my flashlight from a window. The hotel was old and broken, including the elevator, so that meant hiking up the stairs. So up the stairs, I went. As I reached each platform, I noted the old brass plaques displaying the floor numbers. 15, 16, 17, 18. I felt a little tired as I crept higher, but so far, no ghosts, no cannibals, no demons. Piece of cake. I can’t tell you how happy I was as I entered that last stretch of numbers. I joyfully counted them aloud at each platform. 40, 41, 42, 43, 44, 44. I stopped and looked back down the stairs. I must have miscounted, so I continued up. 44. One more flight. 44. And then down ten flights. 44. Fifteen flights. 44. And so it’s been for as long as I can remember. So really, insanity isn’t doing something repeatedly and expecting different results. It’s knowing that the results will never ever change; that each door leads to the same staircase, to the same number. It’s realizing you no longer fall asleep. It’s not knowing whether you’ve been running for days or weeks or years. It’s when the sobbing slowly turns into laughter.

“If God exists, why is there so much evil in the world?” It’s a common question, but it is misplaced. All things must have balance. Light and dark. Good and evil. Sound and silence. Without one, the other cannot exist.”So if that’s true, then God does NOTHING to fight evil?” That might be your follow-up question. Of course, he fights evil. Relentlessly. I am Dartalian, one of His most Holy and Righteous angels. I roam the Earth, disposing of evil wherever I find it. I kill the monsters you don’t ever want to know about. I crush them completely so you can sleep at night. You humans have no idea how many of you live because of the work I do.”But what about Stalin? Hitler? Ted Bundy? Jack the Ripper?”Well, those are the minor ones I had to let live. For balance. The ones I destroy are ….too horrible and vile to survive.What’s funny, is while I would wager you never have heard the name Dartalian in any relegious texts, I bet you have heard of me.Americans, for example, have their own name for me.Sudden Infant Death Syndrome.

I don’t know why I looked up, but when I did I saw him there. He stood against my window. His forehead rested against the glass, and his eyes were still and light and he smiled a lipstick-red, cartoonish grin. And he just stood there in the window. My wife was upstairs sleeping, my son was in his crib and I couldn’t move I froze and watched him looking past me through the glass.Oh, please no. His smile never moved but he put a hand up and slid it down the glass, watching me. With matted hair and yellow skin and face through the window. I couldn’t do anything. I just stayed there, frozen, feet still in the bushes I was pruning, looking into my home. He stood against my window.

I bought a new house in the small town of Winthrop. The house was cheap, but the most important part was that I needed to get away from the city. A few months ago, I had a run-in with a stalker. While I had managed to get him arrested, I couldn’t shake the feeling of eyes just constantly watching me. I felt like there were eyes everywhere, at home and on the street, so I decided to move out into the country to somewhere with fewer people, just for peace of mind. The house itself was big and somewhat old, but otherwise very welcoming. The agent who introduced me to the house had been required to mention that a serial killer had lived here in the past, which was why the house was so cheap. However, he, and later, my next-door neighbor Sarah, both told me to pay the thought no mind. Four other owners had lived in the house since then, and all of them were very happy with it. I loved the house. Its interior furnishings were beautiful and very comfortable. The people of Winthrop were friendly, often bringing over freshly baked pastries or inviting me over for dinner. “Get-togethers,” they said, “were the key to making sure everyone who lived in Winthrop loved it there.”Yet after a week, I stopped “loving it.” The feeling of someone watching returned, worse than before. I tried to ignore it, but soon I started losing sleep. Giant bags grew under my eyes and I began yawning almost as much as I breathed. Sarah was kind enough to let me stay in her house for a few nights. It was during this time that I heard the legend of Forrest Carter, the serial killer who had lived in my house. While no one knows his exact kill count, Carter, also known as the Winthrop Peacock, was a man with an extremely severe case of narcissism. Legends say that he couldn’t fall asleep if he didn’t feel like he was being watched. He was finally arrested for putting up a scarecrow to watch him during the night. Only it wasn’t a scarecrow. Carter had murdered a 17-year-old girl, just so her corpse could stare at him. The story gave me shivers, and after I went home, I felt like there were hundreds of pairs of eyes just watching me no matter how I turned. Today, however, was the first day that I acted out. I was cooking breakfast when I felt the eyes. Instinctively, out of fear, I threw my kitchen knife, which lodged itself into the wall. As I pulled it out, I found myself staring at a pair of eyes, pickling in formaldehyde. I’ve been watching the police peel away the drywall of my house for hours now. So far, they’ve found 142 pairs of eyes in little glass jars. The scariest thing is, every single one was staring at me.

Hello, my dear. You do not know who I am, but I know you. I am one of the three demons that were assigned to you at birth. You see, some people in this world are destined for greatness, destined to live happy, fulfilling lives. You, I am afraid, are not one of those people, and it is our job to make sure of that. Who are we? Oh yes, of course, how rude of me. Allow me to introduce us: Shame is my younger brother, the demon on your left shoulder. Shame tells you that you’re a freak; that those thoughts you have are not normal; that you will never fit in. Shame whispered into your ear when your mother found you playing with yourself as a child. Shame is the one who makes you hate yourself. Fear sits on your right shoulder. He is my older brother, as old as life itself. Fear fills every dark corner with monsters, and turns every stranger on a dark street into a murderer. Fear stops you from telling your crush how you feel. He tells you it is better not to try than to let people see you fail. Fear makes you build your prison. Who am I, then? I am the worst of your demons, but you see me as a friend. You turn to me when you have nothing else because I live in your heart. I am the one who forces you to endure. The one who prolongs your torment. Sincerely, Hope.

@its-target-official do you like horror stories

[lovelynim]

Thesis

Genshin Impact - Alhaitham x Kaveh

A/N: After that little poll, here am I to offer you guys some domestic KaveTham

Summary: Kaveh refuses to let go of his work and go to sleep, so Alhaitham decides to do something about it

Word Count: 1287 words

Alhaitham pressed his eyes close, blinking a few times as he tried to adjust his sight to the darkness of his bedroom. There was a few hours before his actual wake up call and he would gladly use those extra hours of sleep… if it weren’t for the loud architect’s whines right next to his bed.

“Kaveh..?” The scribe sighed, still half asleep. The dim light of the small luminary next to the pile of papers hurt his eyes, making it even more difficult to understand what was happening.

As there wasn’t an answer from his roommate, Alhaitham decided to try again. “Kaveh, it’s 4 in the morning… What in the world are you doing?”

“Not now, Haitham,” Kaveh answered drily, focusing on his notes. He shouldn’t be far from the answer, he could feel it. “I’m almost done with this thesis, if I get it right… it might be my new biggest project.”

“And you had to do it in the dead of the night?” Alhaitham huffed in disbelief, adjusting his posture and sitting down on the mattress, in the middle of the blankets. “Just come back to bed already, you idiot.”

“Shut up,” the blonde hissed, tightening his grip around the pencil, “can’t you see I’m trying to focus?!”

“And can’t you see I’m trying to sleep? Unlike others, I have duties to attend tomorrow,” Alhaitham barked, already feeling how the other managed to get on his nerves. Adding Kaveh’s stubbornness with his lack of sleep, it would be something near a miracle if they weren’t aiming for each other’s throat in a matter of minutes if they didn’t stop now.

“Can’t you at least be quieter? It’s really late to be complaining as loud as you are doing,” the scribe sighed, laying his head back into the pillow before closing his eyes. Kaveh didn’t answer his last comment, so he tried to be positive about that whole situation and believed the man had decided to take on his request and, actually, try to be quieter.

Despite the light of the small lamp still bothered him, it was easier to bear than all those grunts and groans. The silence was slowly covering up all the noises around him and his body was loosing up bit by bit, relaxing as the tiredness slowly carried his mind away and he could, again, fall asleep. Sadly, for Alhaitham, barely a few minutes later, just when he was about to go back to his rest, it started again.

First, some louder and more aggressive scribbles. As if the pencils were scratching the surface of the paper sheets, trying to rip through it at any time.

Then, Kaveh’s groans. As if all those lines were stopping to make sense inside his head and the gears of his mind no longer turned.

And, at last, his feet tapping the floor. In an attempt to make the sparkle of realization shine inside his mind allow his to come up with a resolution for the missing part of his project. That whole cacophony was, again, disturbing Alhaitham’s sleep. Like an ancient beast awoken from his slumber, the scribe opened his eyes and stared to the ceiling. “Kaveh, be quiet.” He muttered, the irritation more apparent in his voice.

“Quit nagging me, will you?” Kaveh snapped back, sassing at his roommate. That was it. The last drop of Alhaitham’s patience and empathy splashed on the ground at that precise moment.

“You want to act like a toddler…” Alhaitham muttered, sliding to the edge of the bed to sit before standing up, stretching his arms and moving his shoulder in circles before starting walking, his bare feet barely making any sound as he stalked closer and closer to his prey. “Then I will treat you like one,” he muttered, getting ready to attack.

“I’m not acting like a toddler, I’m trying to work- AHH! A-Alhaitham what a-are you- put me down this instant!” Before he could even try to argue back, Alhaitham had grabbed his waist and pulled him up, hanging him over his shoulder. Kaveh weakly banged his first on his roommate’s bare back, but his struggle was in vain as it didn’t bother the scribe in the least.

“As you wish,” Kaveh widened his eyes at the answer. Without any care, Alhaitham dropped him on his back on top of their mattress and straddled his waist. The architect blushed at the sight of his roommate on top of him with such a serious facade, but his inappropriate thoughts were quickly dismissed as Alhaitham grabbed his sides, using his thumbs to rub deep circles over his hip bones.

The motion sent Kaveh into a loud stream of cackles in the blink of an eye. His pleas quickly were drowned in his laughter and, before he could realize, the scribe had him begging under his touch.

“Y-YOhohOHou i-diHIHIOT- AHahaAHAh, q-quiHIHiti it!” Kaveh squealed as he tried to paw at Alhaitham’s hands, pry them off his body, but his attempts to stop the tickling only lead to the other changing his focus and starting to claw at his lower ribs.

“Are you going to get back to bed and sleep?” The scribe asked and made sure to not show the least bit of hesitation in his actions. Slightly tilting his fingers, Alhaitham dragged the tip of his nails over Kaveh’s skin, sending the other into a renewed fit of hysterics.

“NAHahat thehEHere- HAHahaithAhaham- oohOHOThers w-will hehEHear us!! ~” The blonde continued to try to argue his way out of that situation.

“Now you care about other people hearing your noise?” The scribe rose one eyebrow, chuckling at the ironic aspect of that sentence. “Answer my question, are you coming back to bed?”

“LehEHEt me goHOhoh,” the architect laughed, shaking his head from side to side and kicking his feet behind Alhaitham. “I neehEHEhed to fihihinish my thehEHehesis!”

“Wrong answer, thick head,“ the scribe muttered, managing to break through the other’s defenses - if they could be called that - and moving his hands up to his ribs despite the effort the blonde put in pressing his arms together.

As easy as it was to overpower Kaveh with a surprise attack, the constant pulling on his arms was starting to bother him. So, Alhaitham grabbed the blonde’s wrists with ease and pinned the man’s arms above his head.

The panic look on Kaveh’s face was more evident than ever. He switched looks between his pinned wrists battling his new restraining, Alhaitham’s hands getting closer to his vulnerable underarm and his roommate’s serious face (in which he also could feel something like a murderous intent coming from).

“Waitwaitwaitwait!” He begged in a rush, panting.

Alhaitham held his hands right above the spot, with an unimpressed look on his face. “So, what is it going to be? Are you coming back to bed?”

“Y-Yes, I’ll just bookmark whe- waitwatiwait!” He thrashed inside his bonds again, seeing how Alhaitham decided to continue with his torture. As the other stopped, now with hand close enough to make him giggle in anticipation. “Alright alright! I’m going to bed! J-Just stop tickling me!”

“I see we finally could come up with an agreement,” Alhaitham said, before let go of his roommate’s wrists and stare down at his face, “but if I catch you sneaking back to your desk, I’ll destroy you, got it?” He muttered. At that moment, Kaveh wasn’t sure if that was still his roommate.

The blonde waved his hands in front of his chest, trying to appease the other, “yes yes, I get it! I’m going to sleep!” He chirped with a nervous smile on his face.

“Very well, good night, then, Kaveh.”

“G-good night…”

Mental note: do NOT disturb Alhaitham’s sleep. Ever.

[winchester-girl67]

Don’t Say A Word (Part 17)

Summary: Dean wakes up in the hospital to find the reader holding his hand.

Masterlist

Pairing: Bodyguard!Dean x reader

Square: Holding hands @spnfluffbingo​

Word Count: 2,025

Warnings: language, a little angst, injured!Dean, hospital visit, mentions of stabbing, cuddling, kissing, implied smut, fluff

A/N: These two were a lot of fun to write and they've certainly come a long way from the bickering in the first part. I'm gonna miss them. Written for @spnfluffbingo​.

_____

Dean was basically out for the count for the first day and a half after his surgery and blood transfusion. He woke up a couple of times, but you didn’t think he would remember any of it.

It came to the point that Sam had to force you to go home and take a shower, get a change of clothes, sleep and eat before he allowed you to see Dean again. Which was only possible since you had helped bring down Dick Roman’s empire of crime and kidnapping. The FBI had found more than enough evidence at his house and the warehouse to put everyone involved away for a very long time, including Ketch.

The last time you traded shifts with Sam was a few hours ago and he said that Dean was lucid and was asking for you. He’d been moved out of the ICU a while ago now and doctors were optimistic that he could go home soon if he was feeling up to it. So needless to say, you were pretty excited when you bounced into the recovery room, but he was resting again and Sam held a finger up to his lips when he saw you. You tiptoed over to Sam who gave you a tight hug before giving you his warm chair and heading out to get some food and rest himself.

You were both eager and nervous for Dean to wake up, you didn’t know what to expect. Most of all, you wanted to see those green eyes full of light again. You wanted to kiss him, badly; you’d opened the floodgates and that’s all you could think of now. You grabbed Dean’s hand and slid your fingers between his, like you usually did when you sat with him. You really just wanted to be close to him, make sure that he was still there with you and this way he could feel you here with him even when he was asleep.

“Hey,” Dean breathed when he woke up a half hour later, his eyes opening just enough for you to see the green hue of them shining in the light. You realized you were still holding his hand and it was hot so your palm was slick with sweat. You moved to pull away, but he stopped you, "Don't let go." His voice was gravelly as he squeezed your fingers and you slid your hand back in his. "You know, sweetheart, there was so much I never got to tell you when I thought… you know… and now I finally get to say everything I wanted to, to you. But all I got is that I kinda like you, a lot... like a lot, a lot."

"I guess, you're not so bad either." You teased, playing with his large fingers and feeling his callouses against your softer skin.

“Uh-huh, that’s why you’ve been crying so much?”

“Have not,” you wiped your cheeks with your free hand, clearing away the couple of joyous tears that had escaped.

You were painfully aware of how red rimmed your eyes were, even nearly a full day later. It had been a rough twelve hours with Dean in the ICU and you weren’t about to apologize for caring, though you doubted that was what he was getting at. Probably just gloating about the fact that he got the girl. You were just happy that the swelling in your eyelids had gone down, you didn’t want Dean seeing you that upset. Although, Sam probably told him already which would make sense as to why he was teasing you about it now.

"Right... Never thought you’d get this attached, did you?" He smirked, pulling your hand up to his lips to softly kiss the back of it. “It might surprise you, but the average day at my job used to be kinda boring actually. Nothing really ever happened other than following around stuck up actresses all day. The odd crazed fan maybe… Then you came into my life and you are a magnet for trouble, sweetheart, but I’d kinda like to keep you. If that’s alright with you."

“Are you sure you can handle that level of excitement in your everyday life?” You teased and winked as seductively as you could.

“Mhm,” Dean hummed, shuffling over to make room for you on the hospital bed. He patted the open spot beside him.

“It’s my turn to keep you safe this time though."

“Is that so?” He grinned, gently tugging you towards the bed by your hand.

“You can count on it.”

You had opted for comfort over your usual jeans, since you knew you'd be sitting at the hospital for at least a few hours, but your maxi skirt wasn't entirely practical and you had to hike it up to your knees so you could crawl into the space next to him. You pecked his cheek and threw your arm protectively over him, careful not to touch the bandage on his stomach. Dean pulled you to mold into his uninjured side and you laid your head on his chest, hearing the staccato thump of his heart.

Instantly, the weight of the world lifted off your shoulders and you reached for his hand again. You held it close to your chest and felt the creases of his palm with your fingertips.

"How are you feeling?" You asked, tracing patterns over his skin.

"Like I got gutted by a pocket knife." He quipped, trying to make light of everything but you weren't finding the humour in it.

You felt incredibly guilty, remembering back to when Dick cut your hands free with his pocket knife. That must've been what he was fishing out of his pocket when Dean pinned him in the ensuite and reached for his gun. When you distracted him.

“I'm sorry." You nuzzled into him and kissed his scruffy neck. He hadn't shaved in a few days so the short hairs had gotten longer and Dean hummed at the feel of your lips. "You almost died for me,” you breathed, his stubble prickling your lips but you didn't care. You liked it even.

“I would have.”

“Don’t say that.”

“Would you rather I lie to you, Y/N?”

"No, I'd rather you give a shit about yourself." You remarked sadly and squeezed his hand. "Because I do."

You were starting to see this whole other side of Dean, a softer, more open side and you were quickly realizing he had some self-confidence issues. The guy who'd barely flinched at your insults over the past week was actually susceptible to them. Even if he was incredibly good at hiding it when he wanted to.

"Oh, you do, do you?" He smirked, cocking his brow. "I'll work on it," he conceded when you just stared up at him.

"You better because I'm gonna be watching you." You squinted at him, trying to look intimidating, but the grin on your lips gave you away.

"I mean it, sweetheart, but I'd say things turned out for the best." He smiled back at you and kissed your forehead.

You sighed contently, a fuzzy teddy bear on the table next to Dean catching your eye, "That's cute. Who gave you the teddy?"

"Ugh, that's Sam's idea of a joke. He's such a nerd, said it reminded him of me and he pinned a bandage on its stomach." Dean grumbled, grabbing the small bear for you to see.

The bear's face was noticeably grumpy and you had to admit it did resemble Dean. You half smirked and toyed with the bear's paw that read 'Get well soon!' in blue stitching.

"I think it's sweet of him," you commented naively, Dean squeezing his arm around you as he hummed.

You spent the rest of the day in bed with Dean. After forcing him to walk to the cafeteria to get some decent food and playing a card game with Sam when he stopped by to drop off some of Dean's clothes; a pair of dark sweats and a tee. Sam still looked beat, however, and you opted to stay with Dean, letting Sam get a full night's rest for once. He didn't argue when you said you'd take a double shift and you swore you saw a look exchange between the boys, but you couldn't be sure. You weren't in a rush to leave anyways and Dean seemed to like the idea of you spending the night, especially since it meant squeezing you into his bed.

The nurses didn't seem all that surprised when they came in to check on him later that night and you were curled up against his good side, sound asleep. Dean, on the other hand, was wide awake, having spent more than enough time recuperating in that hospital bed and he was ready to go home in the morning. For the time being though, he was content watching you sleep; eventually getting a couple more hours of shut eye himself in the wee hours of the early morning.

By mid-afternoon the next day, Dean was pacing the hospital room, awaiting his release forms. He had too much energy pent up and he wanted out, now. You tried to distract him with a piece of apple pie from the bakery down the block, but that only lasted so long.

"Alrighty, you ready to get out of here, Mr. Winchester?" The nurse smiled, walking in with his release forms.

"I thought you'd never ask," he said, quickly going over everything with her; including aftercare for his stitches and telling him to take it easy with heavy lifting and stuff like that.

You knew Dean wasn't really listening. His mind was elsewhere and he glanced back at you with those bright green eyes you were beginning to fall in love with.

"Is your girlfriend driving you home?" The nurse asked, side-eyeing you.

"Yeah, she is." Dean answered, linking his hand with yours.

You thought you saw a slight blush in his cheeks that probably matched your own and you shied away from his gaze. Never in a million years did you think this man would call you his girlfriend. Arch-nemesis, maybe, but not his girlfriend. And you actually liked the sound of it.

Dean grumbled all the way out of the hospital. Apparently it was their policy that patients be wheeled out in a wheelchair and he didn't take lightly to that. Especially since once you were at the entrance he had to wait there with the orderly until you brought the car around. And his jaw nearly hit the ground when you did.

"Who said you could drive my Baby?" Dean asked, when you hopped out to open his door. He really did call his car ‘Baby’, Sam warned you.

"Sam had her dropped off at my place since I don't have a car and I wanted to see you. It's quite the trek out here without one." You said, giving him a sweet, innocent smile and jiggling the keys in your hand.

"Gimme the keys, Y/N, I'm driving." He ordered, holding out his hand and staring at you.

"Nu-huh, the nurse said ‘no heavy lifting’."

"It's not the same thing, Y/N."

"Too bad, tough guy." You smirked. "We can stand here all day, or you can let me drive and we can celebrate you not being dead."

"How does one celebrate that?" He wiggled his eyebrows at you and you shrugged allusively.

"Get in and find out," you put on your best come-hither voice but you were sure your face was beat red by the heat you felt in your cheeks.

"Fine, but only because you're cute." Dean pointed, giving you a kiss on the lips and letting you help him into the passenger side of the Impala.

You shut the door and ran around to the driver’s side. He looked over at you with a smile gracing his lips as you pulled out onto the road. Little did he know, you weren't taking him home... not yet. It was your turn to kidnap him, but you were sure he'd enjoy the ride. You glanced over at him and winked.

_________________________

A/N: Read part 18 here

_________________________ 
 Dean/Jensen: @akshi8278 @laycblack @thoughts-and-funnies @mrsjenniferwinchester @crustycheeks @kazsrm67 @sexyvixen7 @lyarr24 @suckitands33  @eliwinchester99 @yvonneeeee @igotmajordaddyissues @djs8891

Forever SPN: @hobby27

Don't Say A Word: @lacilou @mlovesstories @spn730015 @hunni-bunny @ria132love @fmstafford  @spideysimpossiblegirl @houseforwhores @siospins2 @globetrotter28 @nt-multi-fandom @maggiegirl17 @iprobablyshipit91 @tigergirllolipop @stoneyggirl2 @mimaria420 @muhahaha303

[strange-ghoul]

Comfort (Transmasc Reader x Cardinal Copia)

You come out to the Cardinal, and he realizes that you haven't been taking care of yourself so well. Don't fret! He's here to help you through this tough time and get you squeaky clean.

Word count: 4,342 Rating: General Audiences || Fluff

Posted On AO3

  The night was bright; the full moon was shining upon the gardens below. Here you sat on a balcony that overlooked those gardens. You watched as the wind blew harmlessly past some rose bushes. The garden was well kept, all thanks to Primo, which had always been your safe place. Tonight, however, you couldn't bring yourself to walk along the paths.

  Honestly, you were lucky to be out at all. You hadn’t left your dorm in about a week, only to do your mandatory chores and to snag food before going back to eat in your room. You’ve heard only a few whispers from some siblings, but you tried not to let it bother you.

  Your dorm became your second safe place, next to the gardens. You had covered all the mirrors and the windows were constantly shut. You had your books to occupy you and whatever videos you saw on your phone. You were currently saving for a small TV, but that was going to be a minute.

  This past week, your body and gender dysphoria was getting worse and worse, more than it ever has before. You weren’t out to anybody, as you were terrified of ever coming out. It wasn’t that you thought they’d hate you, no, quite the opposite actually; the clergy was overwhelmingly accepting of everything and anything. Your deep seated trust issues however formed by a long ago negative reaction made you untrusting all the same. Plus, all the change scared you. It was a good change, absolutely, but you felt so much anxiety in having this change that you just couldn’t bring yourself to do it. So you barred yourself off. Finding any and all reasons not to wear the dreading habit and not to engage in any social situations in which your gender might come into question.

  The night is where you get some time to yourself. You often came out to walk through the garden and breathe. Occasionally you’d help Primo where you could when you saw something amiss while the old man was sleeping. But even recently you didn’t have any energy to go all the way down there to sit and bask in the moon’s light.

  You leaned against the railing. You were wearing your habit because it was still early enough where a few siblings might still be walking. You’d rather not have any rumors floating around about losing faith. You hadn’t been really able to do anything with your faith since your issues started to worsen, however this did not mean you were losing it.

  There was a creek behind you, and you barely turned your head. The door was wide open, but nobody was there, with the exception of a rat sitting near the doorway. The hair on the back of your neck stood up.

  “Hello?” You called out, voice meek.

  “Sister.” You jumped out of your skin, the voice right next to you. Copia was already leaning against the rail, looking at you. He wore his black cassock and his eyes had the racoon makeup you always endeared.

  “Oh! Cardinal! I’m so sorry, I didn’t notice you,” You apologized, rubbing the back of your neck. You went to shut the door before returning next to him.

  “It is quite alright, Sorella. How have you been? I have not seen you in what feels like ages!” Copia asked, a comfortable smile on his lips. You sigh, feeling shitty from the title but knowing he meant well. He didn’t know anyways, so it was in no way his fault. Still, it hurt.

  “Yes, yes.. I’ve been… alright,” Your voice faltered, whatever facade you were trying to put up was failing miserably.

  “You are a terrible liar. Please, tell me what is on your mind,” Copia’s voice was soft and welcoming, and a part of you just wanted to get stuck in it forever. He reached out for your hand on the rail and gently laid his hand on yours. His thumb caressed the back of your hand.

  “Nothing, Cardinal. I’ve just… I’ve got a lot on my mind,” You muttered, looking off into the horizon. 

  “Let me silence your mind then. You’ve been missing, more than usual, might I add. Some of the others have seen you without your habits and occasionally missing from mass- what is going on, cara?” He turned to you and he grabbed your hand, peeling it off the rail and holding it in both his hands, “Did something happen? Have you lost faith?” He murmured. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking, his voice quiet as if whispering heresys. His eyes were cast downwards, locked on your hands.

  “No!” You said, a bit too loud which made him flinch, “I’m sorry, that was loud. No, I.. I have not lost faith. I just…” You took a shaky breath in,

  “Yes, sorella?”

  “Please, please stop calling me that.” You took your hand back and noticed how much you were shaking. You grabbed the rail tightly again, hands clammy.

  “I do not feel… like a sister.” Copia went silent, his brows furrowed.

  “Do you not feel cared for within the clergy? I am sorry, I did not realize-”

  “No, Cardinal. I do not feel like a girl. I… oh Satanas,” You groaned. This was happening. You were doing it. And to one of the most highest ranking clergy members. You were terrified. 

  You don’t remember when you collapsed to your knees, or when you buried your face into his shoulder as you sobbed against him, or when you crawled into his lap and he held you. All you remember is the amount of frustration, anxiety, pain, and hurt finally all spilling out in one go. You’ve got no idea how long you cried in his arms but now your head was pounding and you weren’t even sure if he knew why.

  “Copia…” You muttered finally.

  “Yes?”

  “I want… I want to be more like a boy. I.. I’m not a girl.” Copia pulled back, and for a moment, you feared you'd made a big mistake. But instead, he wiped your hot tears away. He kissed the top of your forehead and you looked down. He brought a hand under your chin, drawing you to look up at him.

  “Then be a man, fratello,” He looked away, his face turning red before turning back, “May I… kiss you? For comfort, of course.” You smiled and nodded. He leaned in, kissing you delicately on the lips. He was soft and tentative but held you close to him. You kissed back and your hands grabbed at his clothes in a desperate ploy to keep him close to you.

  He pulled back and analyzed your face for a moment.

  “Ah, we must change your clothes. These habits simply won’t do. Come, I’m sure we can grab some for you. I’ll give you some tips on how I managed pre-t,” He got up and extended a hand towards you. You took it and the two of you headed into the abby.

  “How you managed pre-testosterone?” You echoed in awe.

  “Si! I am a self-made man, caro. As are you. We should start the rather long process to get you what you need to help you transition as well. Though I’m sure with the Ministry’s reputation, we can speed up that process.” He winked at you and you smiled brightly.

  The two of you took off to the laundries. You paid no attention to the looks the two of you got as the both of you ran, hand in hand. Once in there, he began digging through the clean clothes, asking an assortment of questions to gauge the right size for you. You watched him and felt yourself tear up again. Nobody had ever gone to such an extent to make you feel comfortable.

  He looked up right at the time a tear fell from your face. He gasped and rushed over to you, “No! No more crying, why are you crying brother?”

  You gave him a smile and hugged him. You held him closely, squeezing him, “Thank you,” you whispered. He hugged you back, and gently patted your hair.

  “Of course, I can’t have my star sibling feeling down, now can I?” He pulled back.

  The door opened to the laundromats and entered one of the senior sisters. 

  She raised an eyebrow at the scene, “Now what are you two doing out of bed so late?” Her voice was teasing and light.

  “Ah! We’re getting Brother here some new clothes. These habits don’t work for him any more,” Copia managed, pulling back and bringing the clothes out like a child presenting a drawing to his mother. The elder sister looked over to you, and you just smiled and nodded sheepishly.

  “Ah, well leave this place as clean as you came in please. I hate having to fix it,” She waved as she dropped the basket she was holding, “Goodnight Cardinal, goodnight Brother!” And off she was. The two of you basked in silence, you felt like you were glowing.

  “I think I found your size now, let’s head back to yours and take out the rest of your habits. By tomorrow, I will make sure you have a full new laundry set with your dimensions.” The two of you took off back up to your dormitories. There weren’t as many siblings in the halls and you could gander it was getting close to midnight.

  “How are you feeling?” Copia asked as you two got to your door.

  “Better than I have in the last few years. Relieved? Light?” You tried to answer, “I just feel.. Okay. But not in the ‘im alright’ type way, but that everything is going to be okay. I’m sorry, I’m rambling.” You opened the door and gestured him in, he followed in and looked around the room.

  There were your personal clothes littering the room, cans and cups stacked up on your nightstand and books lying around with something random to keep a bookmark on a page. The room was shrouded in darkness, and when he clicked on the light it just felt more depressing.

  “Never be sorry for rambling to me, but… Oh my. What is with all the… eh… cloth?”

  “Oh! I was uh… covering the mirrors…” You were quiet as you took them down. Your breath hitched as you caught a glimpse of yourself for the first time in a week. You looked tired and frail. You watched yourself as you took off the veil over your hair and saw how greasy your hair was. You felt lopsided. You forgot how you haven’t shower in a week due to your dysphoria and you became even more insecure.

  As if he was reading your mind, he rushed to your side, “Let’s ignore the mirrors and room for now. Do you have a bath connected here?” He walked towards the door on one of the side walls of the room and noticed how small the bathroom was after opening. The mirror in that room was cracked, some of the shards still splayed the ground. You winced and looked away in shame. He looked over with pity but didn’t say anything.

  “Ah, well maybe come back to my room after we’re done in here for you to relax. You’ve been in here for too long- if you’re okay with that?” You hesitated a moment before nodding slightly, “Do not worry fratello, I will not try anything. I am not like the Papas,” You chuckled at that and sat on the bed. He walked over your clothes and opened the closet. Most of your personal clothes were falling off their hangers or stuffed into one of the three bottom drawers of the closet. Your habits sat on the very end of the closet, untouched and dusty for the most part.

  Copia grabbed a handful and laid them over his arm, then he grabbed the rest and did the same. He spun on his heel, “Can you grab your makeup and whatever else you use? Like binders, or a sports bra, really anything caro. I’m going to drop these off in the laundry.” You nodded and he left the room quickly. You delicately walked into the bathroom, grabbing your makeup bag and then going to the closet and taking out two of the binders you owned. You sat on the bed and waited for him. You ignored the mirrors as much as you could, terrified to fall back into the loop you’ve been going through for years now. For once, even if it’s just for tonight, you wanted to be content.

  Copia came back quickly, and the two of you walked across th1`e Abby to get to his sleeping quarters. The halls became dim and more decorated gothic till you stopped at his doors. He opened them, allowing you to step in.

  His room had a balcony overlooking the garden. He had a fireplace with chairs around it, a queen sized bed, a book shelf, and a larger-than-yours bathroom. At least, it was larger than your closet-under-the-stairs bathroom. In the corner of the room was a large cage filled with different enrichments for his multiple rats.

  You made your way to the balcony and noticed how much of the garden you could see up here; you briefly wondered if he’s seen you walking in the garden the previous nights.

  “Bello, no? I like to sit up here and feed my rats during the evenings. It’s much cooler.”

  “It is, the night is also so much calmer. Less squinting from the glares of the sun,” You commented. He nodded and then laid out your clothes on his bed.

  “Relax for a bit, I’m going to run the bath and get it warm for you.” You nodded and walked over to his bookshelf. You read the spines, occasionally taking a book out to flip through it to get a better understanding of it. You noticed he had a lot of books in Latin, and you wondered if he’d teach you if you asked. You heard some chirping and you looked over to his rat cage where they seemed to be staring at you from their various little houses. You cooed at them, giving a little wave when the bathroom door opened up.

  “Come, topolino!” You waved bye to the rats and went over to the bathroom.

  Copia’s cassock was discarded on the bathroom counter and he was wearing his black pants and a black long sleeved button up.

  “Can you undress for me?” He asked hesitantly, before shaking his head vigorously, “Not like that though!! I mean- I want to help you- like… groom you, eh?” He stumbled through, his ears and face turning red with embarrassment.

 “I… I would like that. Yes,” You answered, though unsure what he meant fully. You turned towards the bathroom to begin the shimmy of undressing, when you stopped. You met eyes with yourself and it felt like you were staring at a stranger.

  He noticed your hesitancy and got behind you, “May I help you?” He asked softly.

  “... please,” your voice was weak and you turned to face him and away from the mirrors. He nodded in understanding, kissing the top of your head delicately before taking off your garb.

  The habit came off fairly easily and the clothes under it were just a shirt and shorts. He was much more careful with the underclothes; he tried not to linger in any certain place in fear of making you uncomfortable. Once the shirt and shorts were off he folded them and sat them on the counter. He looked over at you and noticed how you were now looking at the ceiling, your body slightly shaking.

  “Fratello, look at me please.” You obeyed, looking back down to him, “You are a handsome man, si? Your body might not be the most optimal, but it will always be equally as handsome and beautiful as you are on the inside. Lucifer loves you despite your fears, as do I. You are a man, despite the changes that haven't happened yet, and I and everyone else will always see you as one.” He grabbed your chin and his thumb ran across your cheekbone. His eyes were filled with endearment. He gingerly made you raise your arms with his hands and took off the sports bra. You shivered at the cold air and cringed at the vulnerable feeling. 

  “You are very handsome and you’re going to get through this,” He whispered tenderly. You nodded. He bent down and helped pull your underwear off. You once again cringed, hating every second of this. He wasted no time in setting these items to the side and rushing you to the bathtub. You put a foot in and shivered. Going from cool heat to hot water always makes your hair stand up.

  You sat in the water and leaned against the wall. There were a light amount of bubbles already in the water, hiding your body from yourself effectively enough. He took his gloves off and rolled up his sleeves. He grabbed a cup that was on the counter and filled it with bath water, then kneeled down beside you on the floor and dumped it over your head. He cupped a hand at your eyebrows so you wouldn’t get any water in your eyes. He did this a few more times, making sure your hair was thoroughly drenched before reaching over to grab the shampoo. He poured a bit into his palm and sat the bottle on the floor. He sat up on the bath’s ledge this time, rubbing his hands together to make sure the soap got on both hands and then running his hands through your wet hair.

  You leaned into it, his fingers feeling nice against your unkempt hair and itchy scalp. You let out a content sigh as he scrubbed gently, making sure he lathered it well. He cleaned behind your ears and ran a hand from the bottom of your hair up.

  “Do you want to cut your hair?” He asked softly.

  “Satanas yes,” You looked up to him, “Can you?”

  “I don’t think it is a good idea for me to cut your hair, but we can get someone tomorrow morning to do it professionally. Would you like that?” You nodded and he smiled, “Good. I’ll call ahead first thing tomorrow.”

  He grabbed the cup again and began to wash the soap out of your hair. He still lightly scrubbed your hair as he did this, pulling out any tangles as he went.

  Then he grabbed the conditioner and poured quite a bit out. He was delicate when applying it but made sure it got everywhere he could reach in your hair. He then pulled back, admiring his work for a second before grabbing a hand cloth from behind him and dumping it in the bathtub. He took it out and wringed it out of its water before applying body soap, which he also got from behind him.

  “Caro, is it okay if you stand up for a bit? I need to wash you. I promise I’ll be quick.” You nodded hesitantly and slowly stood up. The cold air nipped at your skin and you tried to cover your breasts with your arms so you didn’t have to notice them. He moved with purpose and precision without missing a second. He started at your legs, working his way up and going over your nether regions lightly.

  “Mi dispiace but is it okay if I…?”

  “Yes, just… be fast please.” He nodded and you took a wider stance so it was easier for him to clean. He was true to what you asked, wiping the area down and going over the pubic hair. Light enough where you weren’t entirely uncomfortable, but enough to make it got you clean. You closed your legs as he dumped the washcloth into the bathtub and cleaned it off, reapplying soap before standing up. He cleaned your stomach and then went over your arms. He indicated for you to turn and so you did. He got your back and went up your neck. He went around your neck, making you giggle.

  He chuckled in amusement, “Ah, ticklish fratello?”

  “Slightly! Don’t exploit that!” You warn, looking over and playfully glaring.

  He shook his head, “Wouldn’t dream of it, caro.” He grabbed your shoulders and shifted you to face him, “However, I do need you to uncross your arms,” You cringed, “Si, si I know. Only for a moment. You need to be clean, and we’ll discuss better ways to do this later, I promise. I doubt you want me to always be the one to clean you.”

  “But what If I do?” You ask softly, “I mean not forever, but until I feel better.” He hummed, grabbing your arms and gently pulling them off you to expose your chest.

  “I’ll help you in any way you need, mi caro.”

   He was quick to soap you off the rest of the way and allowed you to sit back in the bathtub. He left the bathroom for a few minutes before reappearing with a towel and some pajamas.

  “Your water will be getting cold soon, you should get out,” He suggested softly. You groaned, not wanting to have to face the mirror before slowly dragging yourself out. He opened the towel and you practically fell into it. He wrapped it around you, bringing you into a backwards hug. He snuggled into you, his body pressing tightly behind you as he nuzzled into your neck. You laughed slightly, feeling relief wash over you as you realize the harder part of the evening was over. 

  “Alright, change into these and I’ll be waiting for you out here. Can you do that?”

  “Yep! I’ll be out in a minute.” He left the room and you slowly shrugged the towel off. You ignored the mirror completely and quickly got your sports bra and underwear on. It helped being able to only see clothes and not the skin. Then you put on the silk pants he gave you and an oversized cotton long-sleeved shirt. They were both big on you, but it worked well for now. You assumed that these were probably his clothes, and your face got a little hot. You look yourself over in the mirror, and you felt a little better about yourself.

  You left the bathroom and saw Copia sitting in one of the chairs with a brush on the arm of the chair and scrolling through his phone. He was now in his own pajamas, and the fire was going bright and proud. He put his phone down and smiled brightly once you entered.

  “Come here, let me brush your hair. I noticed it was becoming matted, much worse than the rat nests that my pets create,” He joked, motioning you towards him. You chuckle, then followed his orders. He pointed to the floor and you gave him a confused look.

  “Sit down there, it'll be easier to brush your hair. I already booked a hair appointment for tomorrow as well.”

  “Thank you so much, Copia,” You said as you sat down. He hummed, and ran a hand through your hair. He then began brushing your hair while absently humming a tune.

  “You mentioned you’ve done testosterone, have you been through anything else?” You ask without really thinking. You were too deep in thought, staring into the fire as it crackled and popped.

  “Si, I have. I’ve medically transitioned as much as is safe for me.” Your thoughts begin to go elsewhere, and your face heats up. You can’t tell if it’s the heat from the fire or thinking of his bottom surgery, and you’d rather not find out, “Though, you do not need to medically transition. You don’t even need to go on ‘t’ if you don’t want to, caro. Do what you think is right on this journey, not what others think you should be doing.” You hummed and a comfortable silence filled the room.

  He was careful with his brushing, always grabbing your hair at the scalp if it was a rather tough tug to minimize any potential pain. It took nearly five minutes to get your hair under control.

  “Ahh, all done. Now, I want to know, do you wish to do makeup now, or go to sleep and do it tomorrow? It’s just what I find helps best with outlining your more masculine features, so it’s no rush,” He asked, putting the brush down. You got up and sat at the chair opposite of his.

  “I think I’d like to sleep. So much has happened and I just want to take it all in, y’know?” 

  He nodded in understanding, “Si. I will sleep on the couch. You can use the bed.”

  You gave him an incredulous look, “What? Your bed is big enough for the both of us, if you want to share that is.” He looked surprised for a second, but nodded.

  “Of course, as long as you are comfortable fratello.” You two got up and went to the bed.

  The both of you set up your little areas and you stiffly got under the covers, not realizing how different it feels to sleep in someone else's bed. He took note of this.

  “Are you okay with this?” He asked cautiously, unsure of how to approach the situation.

  “Yes, I’m just… not used to this. At all,” You muttered. It was a lot to take in. The love and care from the cardinal was so much, and you just didn’t understand it fully. He scooted closer to you, wrapping his arms around your lower abdomen.

  “Is… this okay?” He whispered into your ear, setting his head down on your shoulder.

  “Yeah,” You whispered back. He kissed you slightly on the neck, breathing you in. Your hand fell onto his, and slowly darkness consumed you both. In the comfort of each other's arms, cared and loved for.

[phantomrose96]

Old Wounds

Danny’s secret is not a secret anymore.

The lines between Fenton and Phantom have long since blurred. And it’s a common occurrence for news reporters to trip over their tongue when flagging him down, mid-transformation, for a post-fight interview. “Phanton.” “Fentom.” So often that, to most now, he is just Danny.

When Danny wants upgrades to his gear, he comes to his mother. When Danny learns a quirky new element of Ghost Zone lore, he brings it to his father. When the Amity Park Ghost Alarm is raised, he’s first on the scene with the Fenton RV right on his non-corporeal heels.

When he’s injured, Danny comes only to his friends and sister.

Jazz notices the pattern. How it is only her, or only Sam, or only Tucker who receives the late-night knock at the window glass, with her brother on the other side, corny sheepish smile on display and arm or leg or shoulder held up in explanation.

Jazz notices how hushed Danny remains, day or night, when he comes to her for first aid. How he speaks in that same hesitant muted tone as he did when all of this was still a secret. How he quiets himself in the way injured prey animals do.

Jazz doesn’t feel it’s her place to ask. Not yet, at least. Eventually. But not yet.

The window is open. Honeysuckle-sweet gusts of late-spring air swirl through Jazz’s room and tease away the sheen of sweat that has collected on her brow. She cannot wipe it away herself, not with both hands meticulously occupied in tweezering out the singed fabric from her brother’s arm.

Danny winces, and hisses, and Jazz frees another thread from its embedded hold in Danny’s burn wound.

“It’s kind of like… summer vacation when we were kids and we’d get splinters visiting Aunt Alicia’s lake house,” Jazz remarks with another careful tug. “…If we can call it a lake house.”

“Lake shed,” Danny replies, grinning through the sweat shining on his pale face. “And I think every part of that dock was an OSHA violation.” He laughs through another wince.

“Dad was the king of tweezers. I think he got out every splinter that dock ever gave me.” Jazz pauses. “I wonder why that was. Think it’s the needlepoint?”

“It’s definitely the needlepoint,” Danny agrees.

Jazz hesitates on the question lingering behind her tongue. Just a little too long. Just a little too obviously.

“What?” Danny asks.

Jazz’s hand falters. She puts the tweezers down. “Danny, I will always always be happy to help you like this. Same goes for Sam, same goes for Tucker, I know. I’m positive. But I wonder why… not Mom or Dad?” Jazz eyes the tweezers, glinting in the moonlight. “I’m just… I’m thinking how much cleaner this might be if you got Dad to do it. And Mom’s got like, wilderness survival level first aid expertise. I can’t help thinking I’m hurting you more by it being… me, you know?”

Danny looks at her, and looks past her a moment. His grin slips a fraction into discomfort as his eyes leave hers. “Maybe I just like the excuse to invade your room.”

“Danny…” Jazz waits until he looks at her again. “Are you afraid they’ll make you stop if they realize you’re getting injured?”

Danny lets out a puff of air from behind his lips. “No, never. I mean, maybe if I got really really injured they’d say something. But just getting a little roughed up? I think it’s about on par with a kid coming home from football practice with a few scrapes, at least, in their eyes. They get more banged up than me these days. I’m not worried.”

Jazz reaches for the bottle of disinfectant. She unscrews the cap to a biting alcohol smell. “…So will you tell me why?”

“Why what?”

“Why you won’t ever go to them with injuries? Ever?”

Cotton swab, pure silver under the moonlight. Jazz douses it gently, a muted glug-glug from the bottle.

“…I’m that obvious about it, huh?”

“You’re obvious about most things. This’ll be cold.” Jazz applies the swab to the open wound, and Danny hisses in turn.

“Yeah. Cold. And stingy. Cold and stingy.” After a few seconds, the tension eases out of Danny’s body. He droops a little, shoulders slumped, and Jazz pulls the cotton swab away.

“Are you ashamed of your injuries?”

“No.”

“Are you worried Mom and Dad’ll make them worse?”

“Nah. You said it yourself, those two are weird, unconventional medical experts.”

“Then why not?”

A beat of silence follows. A moment of trepidation. Awash in moonlight, Danny looks up at her, and the glow in his green eyes has a life of its own. “I don’t want them to see the injuries that have already healed.”

“Why would that be a problem?” Jazz looks again. Danny’s suit covers most everything, save now for the one sleeve that’s been rolled back. She sees what she already knew was there – what isn’t obvious to the eye not searching – threads of white ridges, puckers of skin, a faded rashy texture of what had once been an ectoblast burn. Old injuries. Long healed. Faded and fading further. “Those are all healed now. Just some scars, right…?”

Danny hesitates.

“I don’t want them to figure out how many of those scars they caused.”

A gust of wind steals the antiseptic smell from the room. Jazz sits with the silence. She thinks, and she processes.

“Oh…”

Danny straightens. “They kind of… live in this world where hunting ghosts is all fun and games, you know? Like it’s a sport, like they can just get into go-mode and jump into the fun. I don’t think they’ve figured out yet that they can—could—did …cause damage.”

Danny adjusts himself on Jazz’s bed, one leg pulled up, body angled to face her directly. He doesn’t let his eye contact wander now. “They both apologized. Definitely. Like that definitely happened, back at the start of this. But it was kind of like ‘We must’ve given you so much trouble Danny! How’d you come home every day and not bite our heads off over that?’ Like. Again. Like it’s a game. Like they’d been knocking my chess pieces over for a year and not—”

Danny falters. He raises his uninjured arm and tucks the hair away from his face. “And I don’t… want it to click for them. What I have right now with Mom and Dad is so nice… It’s so much better than I even imagined. I want it to stay like this. Forever, if possible.”

“Danny…”

“And even that actually—maybe I’m actually wrong about that. Completely wrong. About their reaction, I mean. It’s possible maybe they’d see everything and just go,” Danny deepens his voice, “‘Wow! We did a number on you, huh? Man Danny I don’t know how you didn’t just smack us over the breakfast table every morning.’ you know? Like that. Like this was all just always a game. And they—and I-- …I like how relaxed ghost hunting is with them. I actually like that it feels like a game. I don’t ever want to go back to feeling how scared and afraid and unsafe and hurt I was that first year. ...But I’m afraid of how it would feel to know that maybe they’d see that, look at it all, everything they did and the scars like the actual proof and it—if it wouldn't ever be real to them. If they'd never get that it was like that. If they still wouldn’t realize—you know? That they—if they—I don’t uh…” Danny drops his eyes, and he shrinks in on himself. “I don’t know how to explain it…”

“No I—Danny I know what you’re saying. Don’t worry. Danny, I—”

“Either answer. Any answer. I don’t want to know… I don’t actually want to know.” Danny angles himself away again, feet dropped over the side of Jazz’s bed, staring down at the hands in his lap. “If it would horrify them, then I’d be ruining all the good things I have with them right now. And if it wouldn’t horrify them—” Danny falls quiet. The breeze has stilled. The room is colder now. “…then I think I just don’t ever want to know.”

Jazz nods, and nods harder.

“I get it. I get it. That’s a good enough answer for me, Danny, I promise. I’m your first aid person, okay? I won’t ask again. Thanks for… thanks for telling me, Danny.”

"Can always trust you to bring up the difficult conversations huh? Of course that's always been your thing. Talking to you is--well I'd say it's like pulling teeth, but maybe it's more like pulling ecto-demolished hazmat suit fabric out of a burn wound."

Danny offers a sheepish grin - it's an olive branch, a request to lighten the mood. Jazz meets it with her own small grin that does not touch her eyes.

"Yeah yeah, I'm your older sister. It's my job to be a pain. Now sit still, I need to be more of a pain if we're gonna de-hazmat suit your injury."

She picks the tweezers back up. The silence rings with an echo in her head now. Jazz focuses her attention back on her task, and she finds something she was wrong about before:

There is nothing faded about the scars that web up and down her little brother’s arm. They are stark streaks of lightning, glowing silver under the moonlight. And Jazz wonders how many others—how many that flaked away and melded back with healthy skin—how many of those might still be living, lingering, a permanent part of her little brother, buried well beneath the surface…

[twistedmusings]

A/N: Planning to post some finished requests tonight thankfully but I wanted to share something super self indulgent with you guys since I just recently got an Alexa! I'm still kind of in a funk (since classes are STILL not over with) so thank you everyone for your kind words in my inbox q wq For now I only have Riddle and Leona...but if everyone likes it I'll make an effort to finish! I kinda am working on Azul's as we speak >:3 Warnings: Boys missing you terribly, Riddle justifying the breaking of rules and Leona realizing that he is talking to an inanimate object.

The Ramshackle Prefect leaves to go to RSA for a month, following a lead that could get them back home. And while the dorm leaders do miss them terribly, it seems one of them is hiding something.

. .

“AZUL-SHI DO SOMETHING.”

The Octavinelle dorm leader barely listened to his friend's request as he also crowded over Idia’s phone, the other five dorm leaders looking down at the screen as a pair of familiar eyes stared back at them.

“Where is Idia? Can you please hand me back to him?”

Riddle blinked at the sprite on the screen before looking back at Idia with a frown.

“Explain yourself, Shroud.”

Idia whimpered as he hung his head low in shame.

“[Y/N]-san...I mean...the Prefect left to go to RSA for a whole month, right? Crowley said it was to help them find a way back home but apparently there was some trouble there too and...and he brought them to fix it...”

Malleus’s neutral expression changes into something a bit sadder while Kalim lets out what everybody was thinking.

“To take them away so suddenly...I didn’t even get a chance to give them a goodbye party!”

“They’re only away for a month, Kalim.” Vil’s eyes stay on Idia’s phone screen.

“But I’m sure a party would have let them know how much I would miss them!”

Riddle clears his throat, “That still doesn’t explain anything about what I am seeing. Why in the world do you have something that looks like...that looks so much like them on your phone!”

Idia was sure this was hell. Of all the people to catch him using his phone during a dorm leader meeting, why did it have to be Riddle? What was he even supposed to answer to that question! That he missed talking to [Y/N]-san about the new animes that were releasing this week that he had purposefully made an AI from data Ortho had collected on them and their mannerisms?

He would rather die!

“I--I was testing a new AI! Just...for schedules and stuff like that! And I didn’t have anything else to base it on so I just took [Y/N]-san’s information and made a prototype! It’s not just going to go out to the public like that! They can customize it however they like--!”

Azul hums as he taps the screen, the sprite giggling as he touches their cheek before looking up at all of them expectantly.

“...A prototype, huh.” he smiles and leans back while taking his phone out, “Everybody stop crowding around him, we might as well be breaking his arm slowly at this point.”

The rest of the dorm leader's move back with only some protest, Idia’s eyes shining as he looks up at his other friend.

“Azul-shi…”

The dorm leader of Octavinelle grins, “If it’s a prototype then that means it needs users, correct? More people to test it out?”

“Eh?”

Azul puts his phone in front of Idia and smiles at him like he was just about to close a rather important business transaction.

“Well then I want the prototype as well. Download it to my phone, will you?”

“Eh?!”

Idia presses his phone to his chest as if Azul was about to take it, looking around nervously as the other dorm leaders take their phones out and set it in front of him.

“If it’s an application for scheduling then I could use it to keep Heartslabyul’s matters in check. I’ll take one too.”

“Ruggie is gonna be busy during exams...this thing better work as an alarm.”

“Surely this would help me keep track of my schedule for both the Monstro Lounge and school. I’ll take one with a statistics program built in, Idia”

“Oh!! I want mine to be able to sing! And can I also get them in Scarabia’s dorm uniform? I want to see what [Y/N]-san would look like!’

“I’ll take that as well. I also want a photo re-touch feature as well as one hour updates as to what is going on in my Magicam account.”

Each phone was placed in front of him as Idia felt his head start to spin. He just wanted to keep this thing a secret only for himself! He wasn’t even planning to release it, it was all just a lie so they wouldn’t know his greatest shame!

A shadow was casted over him, Idia looking up slowly as Malleus smiled and placed his phone down.

“I am eager to see your finished product, Shroud.”

The tarts in front of him looked absolutely delicious.

Trey had really outdone himself this time. The strawberries were cut into perfectly neat shapes and the glaze over them made them so mouth wateringly shiny that he could practically taste the sweet treat without even having to taste it!

Which only made his want of one grow even more.

“And here comes the next batch.” Trey smiles as he puts down another plate in front of him, Riddle’s eyes now staring at that plate while his vice dorm leader cleans himself up.

“When did you say the Unbirthday party was going to be today?”

“A-At three o’clock sharp.”

Trey nods as he looks at the clock in the kitchen.

“Perfect. I promised to meet Jade to get some herbs he has been growing as well as letting him teach me how to make this one soup they had in the Monstro Lounge about a week ago.”

He grabs his phone and heads out, leaving Riddle with a quick goodbye and a promise that he would make it back as quick as possible.

Leaving him all alone with two plates filled with his favourite treat.

The dorm leader looks around once...then twice...checking if anybody was coming into the kitchen before going back to stare at the plates.

It wasn’t like he was going to grab one

The Unbirthday party today would be using pastries that Trey had made yesterday. It was the third of the month so the rules required a completely different pastry. The strawberry tarts were most likely for tomorrow.

So Riddle could wait. He was the Heartslabyul dorm leader after all so not only could he wait but he was required to wait! As the dorm leader he was to set an example and he couldn’t let himself be seduced so easily by just two plates of such yummy looking tarts--!

He quickly takes his phone out and looks down at the screen, face flushing as he tries to remember how Idia told him to open up the new app.

“[Y/N]-san…?”

A face peeks out from the corner of his phone, smiling as it recognizes his face and steps out while giving him a polite bow.

“Good morning, Riddle-san! What can I help you with?”

He can’t help a small rush of excitement at seeing the Prefect’s face after not seeing them for two weeks. Riddle would make an effort to stop and talk to them whenever they made their way to Heartslabyul that not seeing them for so long had almost thrown him off his schedule.

And...he missed the conversations he had with them.

As the dorm leader and a student in NRC he didn’t necessarily have time to go to any other events or take part in any of the shenanigans others would get up to, not that he necessarily wanted to, but it was entertaining when the Prefect talked about it with him.

It felt like they were letting him into their world.

So maybe this substitute would suffice...it was a scheduling app after all so it wasn’t like he was using it for pleasure only.

“Would you please repeat rule 56 of the Queen’s handbook?”

The AI clears their throat as a book animation appears before them.

“Rule number 56: On the third of April, black tea should be served along with pineapple tarts. Followed by a game of cards in which the loser must pour the Queen tea for the rest of the Unbirthday party.”

Riddle sighs as he looks back at the plate of tarts.

“...I guess I’ll wait until tomorrow…”

“Wait until what?”

He looks down at the AI, the sprite blinking in confusion as it waits for an answer. Idia had mentioned adding a conversational feature…

“There is no rule about what to eat tomorrow so I decided that we would have strawberry tarts.”

“Are those your favourite?”

Riddle nods and steps out of the kitchen, making his way to his room as he stared back at the open door.

“They are. Ever since I was little. I couldn’t have many because of--”

He decides to not go deep into the subject.

“I’m sure Trey’s pineapple tarts will be excellent. I will just have to wait until tomorrow to enjoy the strawberry ones.”

The AI hums before the book animation pops up again, looking down and flipping a couple of pages before speaking up.

“Riddle-san. While it does say that black tea should be served with pineapple tarts...it does state that it should be done for the Unbirthday party and the Unbirthday party only.”

He frowns, “Your point?”

“I am sure no rule would be broken if only the Queen has a tea party before the Unbirthday party. From what I am seeing here--”

They flip a couple more pages.

“There is no rule about a tea party of one enjoying a strawberry tart.”

Riddle blinks before looking down at his phone, the sprite smiling as they shut the small book and lets it disappear with a ‘poof.’

No rule would be broken...if it was only a tea part of one?

He looks down at the AI when he hears them giggle.

“Riddle-san looks really happy.”

A blush covers his face at being called out on how big his smile probably was.

“Did I help in any way?”

The dorm leader takes a deep breath before smiling as he looks down at the phone and presses his fingertip on top of their head, rubbing it back and forth as if they were petting them. Something he knew he could never really do with them in real life lest he was looking to get odd looks.

“More than enough. Would you like to accompany me during this tea party?”

“Yes please!”

Riddle nods before looking around once more and clearing his throat.

“And...would you refer to me as ‘dorm leader’ from now on?”

The sprite nods as they give him a polite bow.

“Yes, dorm leader!”

He would need to send his report of the app as quickly as possible, Idia had really outdone himself this time...maybe he could ask if he could get them dressed up in the Heartslabyul uniform?

Riddle still wished you would hurry back.

“Leona-san! Please wake up!”

The blankets on the bed wriggled a bit as the phone was tousled over from one side of the bed to the other, the sprite inside frowning as they tried again.

“Leona-san! Please wake up! Ruggie-san texted you!”

A hand comes out of the blankets before holding the phone up.

“Read the text out loud then.”

Sighing, the AI pulls the text up and reads out loud.

“Please be awake by the time I get there, Leona. I need to make sure I get your signature on these papers for the dorm budget. If you don’t I’ll hold your lunch captive!”

Leona’s face finally pops up from under the blanket, the man sitting up and running a hand through his hair as he speaks up again.

‘Oi. What time is it?”

“It is 3:14 in the afternoon, Leona-san.”

“And when did Ruggie send the text?”

“At 3:00 o'clock.”

He groans and lays back down, the pillows flying about as he holds the phone to his face and smiling when he sees the sprite looking down at him worriedly.

“You really do look like them…” Leona whispers before tapping the screen so that he is poking the sprite’s cheek, “What is that face for?”

“I’m just worried for you, Leona-san. Too much sleep is a symptom of some sicknesses so--”

“Hah? You think I would get sick so easily?” he yawns and stretches, “I’m different from humans. Beastmen need a lot more sleep than regular humans do so...I’m just doing what my body tells me.”

Green eyes watch a notepad appear before the AI as they write down the information, smiling as they close it up and watch it disappear.

“I’ll keep that information in mind so I can serve Leona-san better. Thank you so much.”

Leona blinks at the words before a lazy smile crosses his face.

“Serve me better, huh? Never thought I would hear you say that.”

Usually the herbivore would be frowning and telling him to get up and actually take charge of his dorm and how he didn’t act like any grown up they knew. The sprite, however, tilts their head in confusion before speaking up once again.

“I am yours, after all.”

“Damn right you are.”

He looked at the phone a bit more, the sprite smiling up at him as he poked their cheek or patted their head. A part of him wondered if you would react like that with him as well. You always seemed so annoyed with his antics yet you never failed to come back to talk to him, telling him how he needs to get his act together if he is ever planning to go back to the Afterglow.

Leona would bet money that if he patted your head out of nowhere you would be highly flustered. Getting praise from him was something that didn’t happen often, after all.

“What day is it?”

“The 12th day of April, Leona-san.”

Another two weeks of you being gone. He frowns and closes his eyes as he thinks about you meeting those other students. RSA was just full of idiots...like his brother--

“Dammit.”

He slams the phone down but blinks when he hears a small yelp, turning the phone back around to find the AI looking rather frazzled with their eyes closed and hair all over the place.

“Shit. Are you....okay?”

Great, he was asking an application if it was okay. He could understand why Idia would hide this, right now he felt like he was crazy.

“Y--Yes! It was just unexpected!”

The sprite fixed itself up quickly and smiled back at Leona.

“Are you okay though, Leona-san?”

The dorm leader chuckled and nodded as they set the phone down gently and laid down next to it. At least that part was very much like you, worrying about others before focusing on yourself.

“You’re not going to complain? I almost just threw you.”

Without missing a beat, the AI stands up and looks at him.

“Leona-san is still working hard despite his body telling him to sleep. My program tells me that it would be a natural emotion to feel frustrated if you are not allowed to do something you want. Normal actions of frustration speak of physical manifestations such as kicking, punching or throwing. I was simply calculating it for it to be the latter and for it to happen towards a pillow. I’ll make sure to fix my calculations next time.”

He shakes his head and sets the phone down gently.

“Weird thing. You shouldn’t forgive someone so easily after they wronged you.”

“But you didn’t wrong me, Leona-san. I didn’t feel any pain. I just want to make sure you are feeling your best! You are my number one priority!”

This machine is going to make him go insane, he knows you would never say that but the fact that Idia had gotten your voice down so well that it was almost as if you had just told him he was your number one---

He was already getting a headache.

“Set an alarm for an hour. Ruggie will take around that long anyway.” Leona lays down and wraps the blankets around him.

“Of course. Alarm set for one hour. Would you like to be woken up with a personalized message?”

Leona hummed before grinning.

“Wake me up by calling me ‘King’.”

The sprite fixes its settings before giving a polite bow.

“Yes, my King. Please enjoy your rest.”

After this he would send his report to Shroud and maybe ask for an outfit upgrade. He only needed to show him some Afterglow clothes and the nerd would probably be able to make the AI wear them, right?

Whatever, the moment you came back Leona would make sure that you gave him some headpats for making him wait so long.