#and this has been the case for weeks and months at this point

[munsonkitten]

read on AO3 | rated T | sick fic

Eddie groans on the other side of the room. He’s curled up on the recliner with a pillow hugged to his chest. Beside him, a half eaten bag of chips and an unopened Mountain Dew can sit on the side table. He groans again and shifts in his seat, drawing his knees up higher to his chest like he’s trying to crawl inside himself. 

“You okay, baby?” Steve asks from the couch. 

A quiet grunt comes from the mess of curly brown hair covering his face. He unravels himself slowly, crawling out of the chair without bothering to put down the foot rest. The pillow gets left where it is, and the chips and his drink lay forgotten where they are. 

“I’ll be back.”

Eddie disappears from the living room, and the bathroom door clicks close. He’s gone for a little while, and Steve’s about to get up to check on him when the bathroom door opens again, and then he hears Eddie step out and the bedroom door clicks shut instead. When Eddie finally comes back, he’s replaced his jeans for sweatpants, and he has one of his blankets wrapped around his shoulders. 

“My stomach hurts,” Eddie says, his voice sounding miserable. 

It’s a common occurrence at this point. Steve’s used to Eddie being so up and down — he has good days and bad days, and he eats too much junk food for his stomach to handle. Most days something hurts, and Steve wishes he could wrap Eddie up and keep him safe and away from the pain forever. 

In the few months they’ve been together, and the year before that they were friends, Steve’s seen more stomach aches, headaches, painful periods, heartburn and other various ailments than he can count. And he knows Eddie can feel completely miserable over the smallest things — he doesn’t handle any of it very well, moaning and groaning and sighing while he looks for tums and ibuprofen and whatever else he needs. 

Steve hums empathetically, sitting up in case Eddie wants the spot where he’s laying. “Can I get you anything?”

Eddie shakes his head.

“Is it period cramps?”

Eddie shakes his head again. 

“Good old fashioned tummy ache, then,” Steve says. 

Eddie shrugs, wrapping his blanket tighter around himself. He turns around and goes into the kitchen, and Steve hears glasses clinking in the cupboard, and then the sink running. Eddie comes back with a glass of water, taking small sips as he comes toward Steve.

He places a damp hand on his forehead, and then his cheeks, cooling his pink skin. He might have a fever, too, Steve thinks. Something’s been going around, and it’s knocked out each kid one after the other this week — it was only a matter of time before Eddie or Steve caught it too. 

“C’mere, kitten,” Steve says, opening up his arms.

He lays back down, gesturing for Eddie to come lay with him on the couch. 

Eddie fits himself half on top of Steve, the rest of him slipping between Steve and the back of the couch. The blanket covers them, and Steve can tell Eddie took off his binder when he left the room, too. It’s rare for him to take it off during the day, even if it’s just them at home with no other plans, so he knows Eddie must really not be feeling good. 

“Are you sure you don't want a ginger ale, or something?” Steve asks. He slides his hand up and down Eddie’s back, trying to soothe away the pain. 

“Don’t have any.” 

“I can run to the store.”

“No,” Eddie says. “Only cure is cuddles.”

“Is that so?” Steve snorts. 

“Don’t make fun of me. I’m being attacked by my immune system. I’m sick, Steve. You would make fun of someone for having an illness? Shame on you.”

It’s obvious Eddie’s heart isn’t really in it. The teasing doesn’t feel like it usually does because Eddie just sounds tired. He burrows his warm face into Steve’s neck, and sighs, a quiet groan slipping out along with it. 

“I’m sorry you don’t feel good, baby,” Steve murmurs. 

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Eddie whispers. “Always so sweet to me.”

“Just say the word, and I’ll go get some stuff for you, okay?” Steve offers again. 

Eddie just hums noncommittally and curls impossibly closer to Steve’s body. He’s snoring softly within the next few minutes, and Steve just turns his attention back to the TV, allowing Eddie to get some rest. 

They lay there together for a long while, and Eddie comes in and out of consciousness ever so often. Sometimes he mumbles out quiet words of ‘don’t feel good,’ or laughs at jokes on the show they’re watching, and falls back asleep again.

There’s a warm swell of love in Steve’s chest. The fact that Eddie’s comfortable with him, even when he’s miserable like this, makes Steve fall in love with him even more.

Each nuzzle of Eddie’s warm face against his neck, and each curl of his fingers in Steve’s shirt, or each slide of his leg over Steve’s hip as he gets more comfortable — it all makes Steve feel like the luckiest guy on earth. 

The afternoon slips away into evening, and Eddie dozes in and out for most of it. By the time Wayne’s about to leave for work, Eddie’s awake again and groaning in discomfort each time he shifts on the couch.

“I take it someone’s not feeling well,” Wayne comments as he leaves his bedroom. “You need anything before I go, bud?” 

“No,” Eddie says, lifting his head just enough to talk to Wayne. He drops it back down with a heavy sigh when the fatigue decides he’s done enough. “Steve’s taking care of me.”

Wayne lingers for just another second, probably waiting to see if Eddie changes his mind, and then he says his goodbyes and tells them he’ll be back in the morning, like always. 

Eddie mumbles out a goodbye and a ‘see you later,’ just as Wayne walks out the front door. 

He uncurls himself from Steve’s body, then, and worms his way into a sitting position. Steve shifts to give Eddie more room, and raises an eyebrow at him. 

There’s a sheen of sweat on Eddie’s face, his forehead glistening and his cheeks a rosy pink. He pushes the blanket off of them and sighs, head lolling back against the backrest of the couch. 

“It’s too hot,” Eddie bemoans. 

And it’s not, really. It’s winter, and there’s a chill in the air, even inside. Eddie’s like a furnace, though, and his forehead is warm when Steve lifts his hand to touch it. 

“You might be really coming down with something,” Steve says. 

“You should probably go home,” Eddie says. “Don’t wanna get you sick.”

Steve frowns and shakes his head. “I’ll take care of you.”

Eddie sighs, loud and long. “You shouldn’t have to.”

“I don’t feel like I have to,” Steve says, simply. “I like taking care of you. Figured you’d have noticed that by now.”

Eddie drops his head down to Steve’s chest and moans quietly in his throat. His fingers curl around Steve’s shirt and he holds on, curled in on himself. 

“Fuck,” Eddie grunts after a few seconds. “Sorry. Just had, like, a wave of nausea.”

“At the thought of me taking care of you?” Steve jokes.

“Shut up.”

“C’mon, let’s get you to bed, baby. You’ll be more comfortable.” 

“Give me another second. Please.”

“Take your time,” Steve says, rubbing a hand up and down Eddie’s back. His shirt is damp with sweat, and he’s radiating feverish heat. 

Whatever Eddie has is coming on quick because he was fine this afternoon when Steve first came over. That’s why Steve thought it was just a regular junk food induced stomach ache earlier, and that Eddie would be fine after some tums or a nap, but that doesn’t seem to be the case. 

He’s been around for headaches and stomach aches and other little ailments, but he’s never seen Eddie sick. Not like this. 

Eventually Eddie uncurls himself from Steve, and unsteadily makes his way to his feet. There’s exhaustion in his movements, and Steve is quick to wrap an arm around his waist to help him. It might not be necessary, but Steve can’t help it — he wants to take care of Eddie in any way he can, and making sure he doesn’t pass out in the fifteen feet from the couch to his bedroom seems like a good place to start. 

He gets Eddie situated in bed, fluffing up his pillows and making sure his blankets are within reach. Eddie takes one and pulls it up to his chin, rolling over to lay on his side. If he didn’t look so miserable, Steve thinks this would be really cute — Eddie being all cozy and cuddly always makes Steve smile and want to take a picture to save forever. 

“I’m going to the store,” Steve says, regretting that he has to leave Eddie alone, but knowing he needs more than they currently have to get through this. “I’ll get you some soup and some ginger ale, okay? Anything else you might need?”

Eddie shrugs. “Just be quick.”

“Of course, baby.”

He bends down and presses a kiss to Eddie’s sweaty forehead, running his fingers through his damp hair, and then he finds his shoes and keys and leaves. 

At the store, he picks out a few cans of soup and some ginger ale. He tries to remember what his mom would do for him when he was sick as a kid, and thinks of long nights with a cold towel pressed to his forehead, and a regularly refilled cup of ice for him to chew on. He doesn’t know how much ice Eddie has in his freezer, so he decides he’ll just buy a bag instead of worrying about finding ice trays or how long they’ll take to freeze.

His basket is full by the time he gets to the check out, and he knows he’s been gone for a lot longer than he meant to be. 

He gets back to Eddie’s, and finds him still curled up in bed where Steve left him. Steve gives him a Gatorade and a cup of ice before leaving to put the rest of the groceries away. 

“Here, try eating something,” Steve says gently, watching as Eddie’s big eyes give him a look that says he wants to do anything else. “Just a few crackers, okay? And I’ll make you some soup in a little bit.”

Steve leaves him to it, a napkin of saltines on his nightstand, and goes to wet a washcloth from the bathroom. He folds it a few times and moves Eddie’s bangs so he can lay it over his forehead. 

“Thanks,” Eddie whispers, bringing a cracker to his mouth to take a few small bites. He finishes it and moves to lay down on his side, now holding the cold washcloth to his forehead. 

“Do you need anything else while I’m up?” Steve asks. 

Eddie takes a few small sips of his Gatorade, and then a few more before answering. “I’m okay.”

With that, Steve climbs into Eddie’s bed, settling between his boyfriend and the wall. He pulls a magazine out of the crevice between the bed and the wall and flicks it open to where he left off the last time he was here. 

“You’re supposed to be cuddling me,” Eddie huffs, looking over his shoulder at Steve with as playful a look he can muster. “It’s the only cure.”

“How could I forget?” 

Steve puts his magazine back, and turns on his side so he can spoon up behind Eddie. His hand settles gently on his stomach, rubbing up and down in a way he hopes is soothing for him. 

It’s pretty likely, Steve thinks, that he’s going to get sick soon, too. This stomach bug has wiped out most of their friends at this point, and being this close to Eddie means it’s definitely going to jump to him next. 

He finds that he doesn’t really care. There’s no place he’d rather be right now, and there’s no way in hell he’s leaving Eddie to ride this out on his own. 

“So sweet to me,” Eddie murmurs sleepily. It isn’t the first time he’s said it today.

Steve presses a kiss to the back of his warm neck. “Get some rest, baby.”

“Mhm,” Eddie hums. “Tired.”

Sleep tugs at Steve, and he lets himself succumb to it, Eddie held safe in his arms.

(please leave kudos on AO3 <3)

[kai-uh-arcadian]

Inter(n)twining

synopsis: you’re an intern at JYP Corp, you get suddenly moved to a different floor and meet the woman of your dreams

cw: basically pure fluff, jealous Tzuyu, minor cursing, alcohol, grimey He*chul, please let me know anything else, also Tzuyu is like rich but it doesn't relate to the plot

word count: 4k

notes! hi! I hope you enjoy this!! It was sooo fun to write. I thought about this on my way to my own internship hahaha. Has anyone watched Queen of Tears? I referenced that one (<-watch it if you haven't!) scene in this that I thought was soooooo cute ahh~ anyways! Let me know how you feel about this or if you’d just like to chat. Love youuuu (:

You’d been interning at JYP Corp for about a month and a half now, and so far, things were pretty good. The people you met were okay, and while the work was definitely stressful, the fast-paced environment made the days fly by.

All in all, it wasn’t bad.

Well, almost.

Your floor boss, Heechul, was the one exception. He was in his early 40s, arrogant, and rude—those were the kindest words you could think of to describe him. You despised him secretly, but you were careful never to show it.

It was 9:20 a.m., and you had been at your desk since 7:30, typing up a last-minute report Heechul had dumped on you the moment you stepped through the office door. A report he honestly should have done yesterday.

“Get this done by 10, ’kay?” The way his smug grin appeared as your face faltered for a split second was permanently burned into your memory.

You mimicked his tone quietly to yourself while you made a face, “Get this done by 10, ’kay?” The bitter satisfaction of hitting ‘send’ on the email 40 minutes ahead of schedule almost made up for the annoyance.

“Hey, uh…”

Your heart dropped when you saw Heechul’s head suddenly poke over your cubicle wall.

Did he have super-hearing or something?!

You froze, horrified at the thought that he might’ve overheard your mocking.

“I’m so—” you began, your words stumbling out, but he cut you off without even glancing in your direction.

“Intern #5…” he drawled lazily, “someone on the 3rd floor got pulled into another project. They need someone to fill in for a 12 week case.” He flashed an indifferent smile as you exhaled the breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

“Oh, okay. When do I start?” Not even questioning what you’d be doing for the next TWELVE weeks

“Hmm.. like now. Just grab whatever you need and head down there. Thanks!” And with that, he turned on his heel and walked away, leaving you blinking in disbelief.

What the hell. No details, no briefing? Just like that?

Grumbling under your breath, you grabbed your briefcase and stuffed your sparse desk items in it before making your way out the door and into the elevator. It wasn’t until you were inside that it hit you.

He didn’t even know your name. After over a month of interning, you were still just ‘Intern #5.’

“Ahh~ Seriously, fuck that guy…” you muttered to yourself as the elevator dinged, straightening your posture instinctively.

The third floor felt like a completely different world. The cubicles were laid out in a way that was the total opposite of what you were used to, leaving you standing there awkwardly, much like a worried puppy with the way your eyebrows furrowed.

After a few moments a soft voice broke through your thoughts. You turned your head to see a woman peeking out from her cubicle, you only needed to see half her face to realize she was stunning.

“Are you okay?”

“Oh! Uh, yeah… I was sent here to help out on the 12 week case,” you replied, rubbing the back of your neck. “But the layout is completely different from the 4th floor, so I’m a bit lost.”

She smiled warmly and stood up from her desk. “Oh! It must be the case I’m working on, my boss mentioned something earlier about another intern joining me so I think she is expecting you!  Her office is down that hall, last door on the left.” Using her long arms to point you in said direction. 

“Thanks a lot!” You started to walk away but paused, realizing you hadn’t asked for her name.

“Tzuyu,” she said with a smile, extending her hand.

“Y/n… Or, as my boss calls me, Intern #5.” You sighed with a small laugh, shaking her hand.

Tzuyu giggled softly. “I’m also an intern and I’ve heard stories about how he treats us. I think I can safely say Jihyo-nim is much nicer” assuaging your worries

As you exchanged smiles with Tzuyu, her warmth immediately calmed your nerves. You couldn't help but feel a sense of relief knowing you'd be working with someone friendly for once.

"Thanks for the heads-up. I'll try not to embarrass myself in front of her," you said with a small grin.

Tzuyu chuckled softly. "You'll be fine. She's really understanding—definitely not the type to make you feel like Intern #5," she reassured you, her voice playful.

With one last nod, you turned and made your way to Jihyo’s office, the nerves slowly creeping back in. You took a deep breath, knocked twice, and heard a clear voice from inside.

I really can’t deal with another Heechul situation

"Come in."

Opening the door, you found Jihyo seated at her desk, her space neat and organized but stacked with files. She looked up from her work and smiled brightly. "Y/n, thanks for stepping in on such short notice."

"No problem at all," you said, relieved she actually used your name.

Jihyo stood up and grabbed a folder from her desk. Jihyo motioned for you to sit. "The project we’re working on is a client case that’s been a bit tricky, but with the extra hands, we should be able to get things done faster.” She handed you the file to briefly read it over, “I’m assigning you to work on it with another intern, and I’ll walk you over to your station. You’ll be seated next to your partner."

You nodded, feeling your nerves settle. "Sounds great!"

Jihyo led you out of her office, down the hall, and toward a cluster of cubicles. As you approached, your heart skipped a beat when you realized she was guiding you right to the cubicle next to Tzuyu’s.

“Tzuyu, this is Y/n," Jihyo said with a smile as she motioned toward you. "You’ll both be working together on this case."

Tzuyu smiled warmly as she stood up. "Oh, we've already met!"

Jihyo blinked in surprise for a moment before chuckling softly. "Well, that’s perfect. That makes things easier." She gestured toward the empty cubicle next to Tzuyu’s. "Y/n, this is where you'll be sitting. Tzuyu’s already familiar with the case, so she’ll help you get caught up, and you two can take it from there. Let me know if you need anything, alright?" She made a slight notice how the tips of your ears were beginning to turn red before turning away.

"Thank you," you said, bowing before stepping into your new space and setting down your things.

As Jihyo left, you turned toward Tzuyu, a grin tugging at your lips. "Looks like we’re officially teammates."

Tzuyu nodded, her expression playful. "I guess that means I’ll be seeing a lot more of you."

"It seems so," you said, trying to keep your voice steady, though the idea of working closely with her made your heart flutter just a bit.

Tzuyu sat back down and gestured toward a stack of neatly organized documents. "Okay, let’s get started. I’ll walk you through what we were working on so far, and we can go from there."

You nodded, scooting your chair closer to her, your shoulder just barely brushing against hers as you both leaned in toward the table. The soft sound of paper flipping echoed against the steady lull of the room as Tzuyu began to explain the case, her voice was so calming. Her perfume—a subtle, sweet scent—seemed to linger in the air between you, and though you were trying to focus on her words, it was hard not to get a little distracted.

As she spoke, you couldn’t help but admire how composed and thoughtful she was, her long fingers moving gracefully over the pages. You found yourself glancing at her more often than the documents in front of you, drawn in by her presence. There was something undeniably captivating about the way she carried herself—poised, elegant, but still approachable.

“Do you understand it a bit more now? If not I can go over it again,” Tzuyu’s voice broke through your thoughts, and when you looked up, her eyes were already on you, curious. There was no judgment, just a soft smile that tugged at the corner of her lips.

You cleared your throat, trying to play it off with a grin. “Oh~! No, that’s okay,” you assuaged. “I’m just trying to process all of it”

She gave a small, knowing smile and turned her attention back to the documents. “Well, you're doing great, I know I just said a lot of words” she giggled, her tone soft but warm.

Over the last eight weeks, you and Tzuyu had gotten to know each other better. Your work together became a steady rhythm—casual conversations, shared laughs, and, to your delight, a shared love for music. It made the long car rides during company trips feel less like work and more like a comfortable escape.

One afternoon, while heading back to the office after a client visit, you caught Tzuyu quietly nodding along to a song from your playlist.

"You like Twice?" you asked, glancing over with mild surprise.

Tzuyu smiled, still looking out the window. "Yeah, I didn’t expect anyone here to listen to them."

"Same here," you chuckled. "You ever seen them live?"

Tzuyu turned her head, her smile growing. "Once, back in college. It was unforgettable."

"I’ve been meaning to for years but never got around to it," you replied. "Maybe next time they’re touring here."

"Maybe we can go together," she said, her voice was so forward yet soft, and the thought of seeing a concert with her lingered in the back of your mind long after the conversation ended.

That evening, after another long day, you found yourself staying late to finish some reports. Tzuyu had already called it a night, stopping by her neighboring cubicle as she prepared to leave.

"Hey, don’t stay too late," she said, offering a tired but warm smile.

"I won’t be long," you replied, stretching your shoulders. "I’ll see you tomorrow!"

"Good night, Y/n" she said, and with a soft wave, she headed out.

It was nearly an hour later when you finally finished up, the office almost eerily silent. You grabbed your things and headed out, only to find Tzuyu standing by the entrance under the building’s foyer, her arms crossed as she looked out at the rain pouring down.

You frowned, assuming she was waiting for the storm to calm down. "Seriously?" you muttered to yourself, amused that someone so seemingly put-together would forget an umbrella on a night like this. With a sigh, you walked over to her.

"Tzuyu, did you forget your umbrella?" you assumed lightly, a teasing smile on your face as you stood beside her.

Tzuyu turned toward you, blinking in surprise. "Oh, no, I'm just waiting for—"

"For the rain to stop?" You asked as you frantically put your stuff down on the concrete while taking off your blazer.

"You'll get sick if you try to walk home like this," you interrupted, pulling out your own red umbrella of your bag and pressing it into her hands while also throwing your blazer around her.

Tzuyu opened her mouth to respond, but you didn’t give her a chance.

"Here, take mine."

Tzuyu blinked, a bit taken aback. "But what about you?"

"I’ll be fine," you said with a reassuring smile. "The bus stop is just around the corner, and so I’ll be good. Besides, this umbrella’s way too nice to just be used in a short walk!"

Tzuyu hesitated, looking between you, the umbrella, and the pre-warmed jacket around her. She opened her mouth again, probably to explain, but you waved her off, already heading toward the street. "Seriously, don’t worry about it! It looks better on you anyway!"

Before she could protest, you were jogging away, flashing her a quick cheeky smile over your shoulder. "See you tomorrow, Tzu~!"

She stood there, the unopened red umbrella still in her hand and blazer around her as she watched you dart off toward the bus stop, your silhouette slowly disappearing in the fog of the heavy rain. Tzuyu glanced down at the umbrella, confusion flickering in her eyes.

“I .. have a driver..”

Just as she stood there, still processing what had happened, her driver finally pulled up, headlights cutting through the downpour.

"Miss Chou, I apologize for the delay—the rain's been causing awful traffic," the driver said, stepping out to open the door for her.

Tzuyu looked down at the umbrella again, momentarily lost in thought. "It’s okay, don't worry about it" she murmured, climbing into the car, the umbrella still firmly in her grip.

As the car drove off, Tzuyu’s thoughts drifted back to you—how you’d rushed off into the rain without a jacket nor without a second thought, stupidly smiling despite the storm, leaving her with your umbrella. She looked out the window as the bus drove off in the distance, watching your soaked form disappear from view, wondering about you, and why you so easily gave her the clothes off your back.

The next morning, when you arrived at the office, you saw Tzuyu already at her desk, the red umbrella propped up against your chair.

“Good morning Tzu!” You cheerfully greeted her while making your way to your respective space. 

She glanced up as you approached, her usual calm expression shifting to something more thoughtful.

"You know, you didn’t have to do all that last night," she said softly, as if she’d been thinking about it all morning. (she was)

You shrugged, giving her an easy smile. "I couldn’t let you walk in the rain like that. It’s just an umbrella and I bought that jacket from Amazon, no big deal! I’m glad you got home safe."

Tzuyu held your gaze for a moment, her eyes lingering on yours before she looked down. "Still… I appreciate it. I’ll give it back when it’s dry-cleaned"

Dry-cleaned?

"No it’s okay! Don’t worry about it," you replied, brushing off her concern with a wave of your hand. "It’s really okay!"

But as you settled into your seat, something about the exchange left an unspoken feeling between you both, small but undeniably there. You couldn’t quite shake it—the way her gaze lingered, it seemed like a quiet weight resting beside her.

And maybe, just maybe, that gesture meant more than either of you were ready to admit

Twelve weeks had passed, and you and Tzuyu had finally closed the case(successfully!) you’d been working on it for so long. It felt like a weight had been lifted, and both the third and fourth floors were buzzing with excitement. As the end-of-year office tradition dictated, Jihyo—and unfortunately, Heechul—organized a work dinner and drinks to celebrate the years successes.

Dinner started smoothly. Everyone was relaxed, conversations filled with lighthearted laughter and stories of the past few months. Tzuyu sat beside you, nursing her drink, her small, contented smile only adding to the warmth of the night.

But then, the drinks started flowing.

As the evening wore on, you noticed Heechul’s eyes repeatedly drifting toward Tzuyu. From the moment he saw her, it was clear what his intentions were. His predatory gaze, the same one you’d witnessed with other interns, made your blood simmer. He was so zeroing in.

Tzuyu, who was carefully sipping her beer, had stiffened as Heechul sauntered over with a smug grin, the two small glasses in his hand wobbling slightly from how much he’d already consumed.

“Hey, Tzuyu, right?” Heechul drawled, leaning on the table beside her. “Let’s do a love-shot. It’s for team bondinggg~” He flashed her a grin, his voice dripping with sleaze.

Tzuyu froze, glancing away uncomfortably. “I’m not sure if that’s a good idea, I don’t really drink..” she murmured, clearly looking for a way out.

“Oh, come onnn~!” Heechul leaned in closer, his body practically pinning her against the wall which happened to be your back. “Don’t be shy. It’s just one drink~!”

That was enough.

Without missing a beat, you stood from your seat, a little unsteady from your own drinks but filled with purpose. 

“Boss-nim, how about… you come here!” You feigned excitement while the whole tables’ eyes were on you two

In a few steps you guided him and you closed the distance, slipping Heechul away from Tzuyu smoothly, effortlessly blocking her from his sight with your body while wrapping your forearm around his.

“How about this, Boss-nim?” you said with a playful grin, your voice steady despite the alcohol in your system. “Why don’t we take that love-shot together!?”

You leaned in closer, one arm propped against the wall beside his head, the other smoothly taking one of the glasses from his hand.

Heechul blinked, visibly surprised but clearly intrigued by your boldness. His smirk widened. “Oh? I didn’t think you’d be so forward, Intern #5.”

God did you hate this man.

You internally rolled your eyes as you tilted your head, giving him a fake smile. “Why not? I’m a big team player, right? ” You clinked his glass, maintaining your position between him and Tzuyu.

Heechul's initial shock melted into something more. His grin grew cockier, but now with a hint of appreciation. He raised his glass, eyeing you with newfound interest. “Well, you’ve got guts, I’ll give you that.”

You turned out to the table of people watching, letting the tension simmer. “To teamwork! ” You said, your voice is just loud enough for your table to hear.

Heechul clinked his glass against yours, his gaze still locked onto you. “To teamwork,” he echoed.

You both threw back the shots, and while the burn of the alcohol hit your throat, you couldn’t help but hide a face of disgust at the sight of Heechul staring at you with a mix of admiration and something else entirely.

As you set your glass down, you noticed some of the female coworkers nearby watching you both, whispering among themselves.

“Wow, did you see that?” one of them murmured, clearly impressed. “She totally flipped the situation and helped that one girl”

“Right? That was so smooth. She’s got some serious charm.”

“I think Heechul-nim’s  into her now.”

“Hell— I’m even into her now! What’s her name?”

Their whispers weren’t exactly quiet, and the compliments floated through the air, filling the space around you. You caught snippets of their words, and even in your slightly tipsy state, you could feel the heat rise to your cheeks due to flattery.

But then, you glanced at Tzuyu. Her usually soft expression was tight, her eyes focused on the table, hands gripping her drink a little too tightly. She wasn’t saying anything, but there was something in her silence—something that felt like quiet jealousy.

Before you could process it, Heechul broke the moment by leaning in toward you with a grin. “I’ve got to say, Intern #5, you’re full of surprises.”

You chuckled, but there was no mistaking the sharp edge in your voice. “Gotta keep you on your toes, right boss-nim? Can’t let you make just anyone uncomfortable!” You said while slipping back into your seat

His laughter boomed through the room, seemingly laughing off that sly jab, the other colleagues joined in, you felt Tzuyu’s presence beside you, still silent, still reserved. You turned toward her, catching her gaze for just a brief moment, her eyes meeting yours before she quickly looked away, her expression unreadable.

Leaning down slightly, you whispered to her, “Hey, you okay?”

Tzuyu nodded, though her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Yeah, just... tired. Maybe I’ll head home soon.”

“Oh! Please, I can walk you home,” you suggested, voice slightly slurred from the alcohol but laced with genuine concern.

Tzuyu glanced at you for a brief moment, her face unreadable. “Alright,” she finally said, her voice soft but clipped as she grabbed her things.

You both bowed respectfully to thank everyone for the dinner before slipping out the door, the cool night air a stark contrast to the warmth inside.

The silence stretched between you as you followed behind her. Her long strides made it hard to keep up, and you couldn’t help but feel that she was walking with a certain purpose—like she was intentionally trying to get ahead of you while you were left following her like a loyal dog.

“Tzuyu-ya, what’s wrong?” you called after her, your voice slightly breathless as you struggled to close the distance. She kept walking, her pace unfaltering, and for a moment, you wondered if she was genuinely trying to avoid you.

“Tzuyu-ya,” you called again, a little louder this time as she reached the edge of the bridge near her apartment. In a moment of panic, you gently grabbed her arm to stop her.

She froze.

“I’m so sorry… did I make you uncomfortable? Did you want Hee—” you started to ask, words tumbling out in your haste to apologize. Your heart sank at the mere thought that maybe you had overstepped, that maybe she had wanted to—

“Yes! You made me uncomfortable!” Tzuyu interrupted, spinning around to face you, her cheeks flushed. Her eyes shone with an emotion you couldn’t quite place, but it wasn’t anger.

You blinked, shocked. “I’m sorry... I thought you were trying to get away from—” Trying to explain

“You were being too cute!” Tzuyu blurted out, cutting you off again, her face flushed even darker as she averted her gaze, clearly flustered.

Your eyes widened at her sudden admission. "W-What?"

“You were being charming... in front of other women!” she huffed, crossing her arms over her chest like a pouting child. “Why would you do that? Are you trying to attract them? It was too charming!”

It all hit you at once. Her awkward silence, her reservedness during dinner—it wasn’t because of Heechul, it was because of you. Even through the fog of alcohol, you suddenly understood.

You took a step closer to her, your heart racing. “Tzuyu, I—” you began, but her vulnerability was so palpable in that moment, it stopped you in your tracks.

Without thinking, you reached up, cupping the right side of her face with your hand. Her skin was warm beneath your palm, and her breath hitched as your thumb gently caressed her cheek.

“I’m sorry,” you said softly, your voice low but steady. “I won’t do that again. I promise... my charm will only be saved for you, my Tzuyu.” You gave her a sweet smile

Tzuyu’s eyes flickered with something raw and unguarded as she looked up at you, absentmindedly nuzzling into your hand, her vulnerability so clear in the way she held your gaze. “It better be,” she murmured, though her words carried no real bite.

In that moment, the air between you felt thick with something unspoken, an invisible thread pulling you closer to her. Your heart pounded as you realized what you had/wanted to do.

Or maybe it was the alcohol in your veins? Or maybe the sheer need to kiss her right in that moment.

Tzuyu’s eyes met yours, wide and vulnerable, but she didn’t pull away. She held your gaze, her breath shallow, her lips parted just slightly as if waiting for something—for you to make the first move.

And so, you did.

Without another word, you gently tilted her chin up with your thumb, leaning in slowly, giving her plenty of time to stop you if she wanted to. But she didn’t. Her eyes fluttered shut, and the warmth of her skin beneath your hand only urged you closer.

Your lips met hers in a soft, tentative kiss—almost like a question. She responded with a slight, shy press of her lips against yours, her breath catching as the kiss deepened. You could feel the soft tremble of her shoulders beneath your hands, as if she was just as unsure and just as eager.

For a brief moment, the world outside disappeared—The bridge, the distant city sounds—all of it melted away.

When you finally pulled back, your forehead rested against hers, both of you catching your breath. You felt her fingers brush against your hand, hesitant but full of meaning, as if she was silently asking, What now?

You smiled softly, your thumb tracing her cheek one last time before you whispered, “I meant it. It’s just you, my Tzuyu.”

Her lips curled into a small, bashful smile as she whispered back, “Just me.”

Maybe come Monday you’ll ask Jihyo for a permanent position on the third floor.

[thetokentrans]

.

[alongtidesoflight]

i did treat myself a little and held out on buying a case for my new computer build so i could save up for something that's sturdy and kinda aesthetically pleasing looking (after years of living by a "it doesn't need to look pretty it just needs to do its job" invisible set of rules floating about my head) (that build was held together by spite and macgyver-esque crafting) and i just placed the order for it

and ngl lads i am lowkey excited

[loumauve]

I snapped today at work, and by snapped I mean I politely commented on a help desk ticket by summing up an mess of an (type of) issue that's come up for at least the fourth time in the 2+ months I've been managing user accounts, and asked the person responsible to fix it (himself for once) because last time I fixed his mess-up it took me two whole days to work out the details with at least four other colleagues from different departments and I really don't want to do it again. there's other shit that needs doing, I've been working 10+ hour days for most of this week already, so I need to cut down not add on more.

(good thing tho - at least we managed to fix the issue where the dataset of a newer employee got mixed up with another one of the same name and therefore wasn't able to apply for any of the access/accounts she needed. technically not entirely my area but it does impact us not being allowed to create an account for her so I figured I might as well track that issue down. took three days and at least three other people, but hey - it should all work out now. yay for that)

[readingwriter92]

In honour of finishing my exam and being five days away from freedom (for a few days), I bought myself an iced banana matcha and a three pack of kinder eggs. Bc you gotta treat yourself

[kuromi-hoemie]

nooo im all caught up on my manhwa and now i have to actually do something else

hell world

[silhouettecrow]

365 Days of Writing Prompts: Day 216

Adjective: Pink

Noun: Peach

Definitions for those who need/want them:

Pink: of a color intermediate between red and white, as of coral or salmon; (of wine) rosé; (informal) (often derogatory) having or showing left-wing tendencies; of or associated with gay people

Peach: a round stone fruit with juicy yellow flesh and downy pinkish-yellow skin; a pinkish-yellow color like that of a peach; the Chinese tree that bears peaches; (informal) an exceptionally good or attractive person or thing

[orcelito]

of all things, seeing goro and sumi interact makes me wanna work on the next ladue chapter more than anything else the past like 2 weeks

Wild

[giuggiulu]

Anyway next time y'all want to make fun of lesbians for how fast they move in a relationship take a sec to think about former-lesbians-maybe-they-were-bi-all-along and their wet rat boyfriends

[tiger-moran]

How does this site even work, half the posts from blogs I'm following don't show on my dashboard any more under 'following'. Some of the posts from blogs that I follow and that I should therefore surely see under 'following' do however seem to randomly show up on the 'for you' tab alongside the countless other posts from blogs I don't follow and in most cases have no interest in.

what the fuck

[bohemiandeer]

You know what hits me hard? When 5 to 6 year old children, all the way in Southeast Asia, knows about what's happening in Palestine right now. That children their age is getting bombed, that they're starving to death, that they're getting shot at, and sniped in the head. Because, just this past 2 or so months, I heard some of the little ones in the Kindergarten classes I'm TAing in as an Intern talk about it. Hell, one of the little boys downright said he didn't like Israel, because Israel is bad, because they do scary things. Another was questioning whether Palestine was bad too, because, "why else would they shooting at them?". A little girl in one of my classes doesn't want to finish her food at all, because she wants to save at least half her meat and rice for kids in Palestine, because she heard that, they don't have food. And that's just the ones I remember. Namely the inciting cases before their classmates slowly follow suit. The littles are fricking SCARED. We had to sit these kids down, and tell them that the topic is too mature for them at the moment, that they shouldn't even be concerned because they're KINDERGARTNERS, they're not even old enough to properly understand. The one teacher I was TAing for had to make a class announcement saying that. What gets me is, these are 5 to 6 year olds, the youngest I've worked with in this specific age group is 4. 5 years old on average, and they've already been exposed to the worst horrors genocide has to offer through the news and snippets of conversation among adults and hell, considering how many of them say they like to play games on Mama's phone, or their IPad, even from fricking social media. And the fact that, these literal babies, from all the way in Cambodia, has more empathy in their entire body and soul, than full grown fricking adults have in the nail of their pinky finger, gets me. FFS we as adults could LEARN from them I feel sometimes. I honestly don't know what to feel about it anymore. On the one hand, this is the next generation I'm working with. And if the next generation's default response to a tragedy such as Palestine, is what I've seen come up on occasion so far? Perhaps there's some bloody hope for this world after all. At least in this country. Especially since a majority of them already come from families who survived a genocide. These are the 3rd - 4th generation descendants of those who survived the Khmer Rouge. They've got grandparents at home, who no doubt are more than intimately familiar with what Palestine is going through right now. And it shows.

But on the other, it makes my heart sink because these are CHILDREN, these are LITTLE KIDS, they should be playing with their toys and watching cartoons and talking to their friends about everything from Spiderman to Speakerman to Kuromi and her friends, and be worried about whether or not they can go to playground that day, guranteed they're well behaved, or if Mama remembered to pack in their costume for swimming lessons that week. NOT JUST MY KIDS. But the little ones in Palestine too. They deserve better. They all deserve, so much better. Hell, it's come to the point that whenever I look at my kiddos right now, whether they'd be working in class, playing, doing something as mundane as eating lunch or getting ready for their nap. I think of the children their age in Palestine that didn't even get the chance to survive. I think of the ones whose memories from this age, is nothing but absolute horror and pain, rather than what has slowly become my normal, who never got to experience what my littles do on a daily basis right now.

Children shouldn't even be concerned about "War", about a Genocide. The last thing that should be on a 5 year old's mind, is pain, and suffering, and the worst horrors imaginable ever to be inflicted on a human being. ESPECIALLY WHEN IT'S INFLICTED, ON OTHER CHILDREN THEIR AGE. And for that alone, the world has failed them. Especially the kids in Palestine who didn't ask for any of this. They just wanted to carry on with life as kids do, the same way as my littles do on a daily basis no doubt, learning, playing, chatting with friends over their favourite cartoons and characters, worrying about whether they'd get to go to the playground or not that day.

I apologize for talking about this on this blog. I know my blog tends to be lighter in feel, a lot more unhinged and light hearted typically. I mean, I'm just a fricking nerd who likes to draw and write, and lurk about her favourite fandoms to consume and support what is shared among other nerds who also like to draw and write. But I couldn't stop thinking about it. About contemplating it, especially since I'll be back on a roll tomorrow, working with my kiddos again after not seeing them for 5 days straight because of Holidays. And, I just had to talk about it. This is something I felt I couldn't keep to myself this time, I don't think my soul'd be able to carry it. I had to talk about it.

FREE PALESTINE. Our children deserve better.

[drchucktingle]

THE TEXAS LIBRARY ASSOCIATION TELLS CHUCK TINGLE TO STAY HOME BUT WE PROVE LOVE ANYWAY

just when you buckaroos thought 2024 would be a break from book drama, here comes chuck tingle in the mix. recently i was asked to be a featured speaker at the TEXAS LIBRARY ASSOCIATION annual conference. a few days ago they rescinded my invitation. here is what happened.

(EDITED TO ADD THIS LINK. if you have a hard time reading this on way of tumblr you can also read for free on chucks patreon)

i would like to start off by saying it is not my intent to start a fight, and all those reading this should know that the actions of a few misguided folks do not speak for the whole TEXAS LIBRARY ASSOCIATION. i am sure there are many involved who will be very upset to learn what others at TLA have done in their name. there are many individuals here, so please do not paint them all as villains in your mind. besides, chuck loves the dang library everyone knows that.

the point of writing this is not to vilify. i am writing this is because MOMENTS OF DARKNESS are the best places to SHINE A LIGHT AND PROVE LOVE IS REAL. this is a perfect time for learning and growing and for us talk on some very important things that queer buckaroos and neurodivergent buckaroos face every day. this is an unfortunate moment that WE can turn around and use to prove love is real.

i am also writing this to understand some of my own personal feelings on the matter. for something that seems very simple on the surface, the trot is complex, and i am still working out my emotions on the whole dang thing. i am learning in this way.

PART ONE: BAG OF LOVE

a few months ago chuck was asked to be a featured speaker at the 2024 TEXAS LIBRARY ASSOCIATION ANNUAL CONFERENCE. i have been asked to do things like the before and it is ALWAYS a fun time to meet bookseller and librarian buds. trotting around face to face and talking about my story of conquering chronic pain and overcoming my mental hurdles is VERY IMPORTANT to me. i say YES to these things whenever i can. (here i am with authors at CALIFORNIA INDEPENDENT BOOKSELLERS ALLIANCE conference. they are a WONDERFUL group and they proved love with their OWN invitation to chuck. this was such a moving event with so many amazing authors and stories. got very teared up during this photo)

ANYWAY BUCKAROOS i get the TEXAS LIBRARY ASSOCIATION invite and say 'YES BUD LETS TROT'. we are then confirmed.

months pass. a few weeks ago i get a call from my manager and agent and publisher saying ‘the TLA have rescinded their invitation.’

turns out some things had been going on behind the scenes

at some point the TLA asked chucks INCREDIBLE HEROIC BAD ASS PUBLISHER if chuck would be okay with not wearing the mask, to which tor/nightfire/macmillan said ‘what the heck are you talking about of course chuck is going to wear his mask. this is how chuck presents himself’ (NOT EXACT QUOTE)

as you all know, my pink bag way is a VERY IMPORTANT SPACE. as an autistic buckaroo it is a boundary that allows me to express myself freely and relieve my chronic pain from neurotypically masking all day. i have talked about this for years, and it is why i consider my private identity a SACRED THING. it is literally a health issue.

fortunately THE PINK BAG is never really a problem when making appearances. i have spent years going on television shows, doing interviews, speaking at other conferences and conventions, hosting book events on tour, and even MEETING WITH LAWYERS in my pink face covering. it is always respected and that is very validating to my way.

when arriving anywhere i always take precautions. i always warn buckaroos ahead of time that there is a masked man coming. i always have someone go in ahead of me JUST IN CASE. again, there has never been an issue. at a big conference where i am a special guest there is ESPECIALLY not an issue because my face and bio are printed IN THE DANG PROGRAM

SOME FUN TIMES AT BIG EVENTS BELOW:

CHUCK ON TV SHOW NAME OF 'AT MIDNIGHT' BACK BEFORE I WROTE LOVE IS REAL ON MY HEAD:

well, there has never been an issue.... UNTIL NOW.

PART TWO: RESCINDED

a few days ago TEXAS LIBRARY ASSOCIATION suddenly messaged my publishers and said that chuck tingle is no longer invited. my invitation was rescinded. the reason given was that people could possibly be uncomfortable with my mask

right out of the gate i would like to say this: it is absolutely the right of the texas library association to disinvite someone from their conference. it is their event, after all, and they can ban anyone they would like, for any reason.

of course, that doesnt mean other folks HEARING THIS NEWS wont have their own opinions the TLA choices. if the TLA disinvites someone, their reasoning for doing this can be discussed and analyzed. whether or not they follow their own guidelines can be questioned, and certainly their kindness and tact can be considered

there are a few BIG POINTS to make regarding this choice from the TLA

first and foremost, i just gotta say buckaroos, it is incredibly rude to invite someone to be a guest speaker at your event, have them confirm and mark off their calendar and turn down other offers, then rescind their invitation. this is maybe the simplest of the points, but it is an important one.

second, (DEEP BREATH HERE WE GO BUCKAROOS) i personally do not think of my autism as a disability very often, but i also KNOW that despite these feelings it ABSOLUTELY IS. autism is important to be listed as a recognized disability because of the help some autistic buckaroos need regarding government programs and things like that. ALSO just because my neurodivergence has helped me in some ways (hyperfocus and a unique artistic sensibility for example). i personally need to step back and remember my battle with stress and chronic pain from having to neurotypically mask all the time. for as much as i love being autistic it has made some things very difficult.

in other words, i am perfectly capable of speaking and interacting with folks without this pink bag on my head BUT WHEN I AM IN THE CHUCK TINGLE SPACE I REQUIRE IT. i can ONLY use this space while covering my face. is not a want. it is a need. holding this boundary is more important than i can ever say. i will not, and can not, let these spaces cross.

TLA not letting an autistic author wear the face cover theyve set up to express their neurodivergence in a safe, healthy way is--for lack of a better term--NOT A GOOD LOOK.

i cannot fathom them disinviting another author for using a disability aid. i cannot fathom them saying that a buckaroo who hears better with a hearing device cannot use it during their panel because it would make others 'uncomfortable'.

but here we are.

PART THREE: WHAT DOES A BUCKAROO GOTTA DO TO GET BANNED AROUND HERE?

this is the TLAs official stance on disability issues according to their website:

when poking around on the TLA website i noticed a few other things. i noticed a previous guest speaker wearing a niqab, and i was left wondering if the religious significance is what make that okay but chuck tingle banned. that made sense until i looked deeper and saw mascot buckaroos dressed up on the exhibition floor, and saw some kind of spiderbud in a costume contest. nobody around them seemed to be all that scared. their invitations REMAINED INTACT.

it should be mentioned here that AT ONE POINT during the discussions an email was sent from TLA saying chuck is allowed to come and wear his mask in the exhibition halls and smaller panels, just not at any of the big PAID PANELS i was once supposed to participate on. this was a confusing offer, but their explanation was that people who paid for something should have the option to not see chucks 'scary neurodivergence aid'. i tried to wrap my head around WHY they would make a distinction. maybe the exchange of money (rather than time) causes some kind of philosophical adjustment that i just cant grasp?

i wonder, would the author who wears a niqab ALSO be banned from the paid panels? i hope not

my answers trotted up short until i investigated deeper and found this quick moment from one of the TLA help videos. while some events DO require additional buckaroo cash, it actually appears that THE ENTIRE CONFERENCE IS TICKETED AND COSTS MONEY.

at this point i realized there is clearly no actual official policy about not covering your face (other than one from a few years ago saying that you HAVE to cover your face), and the addition of 'money' is a red herring. these excuses make no sense

PART FOUR: CLOSE THOSE GATES

it appears that my neurodivergence is 'scary' enough to get me uninvited, REGARDLESS what their disability and mask policies may say

BUT WHY? why is chucks preferred physical presentation valued SO little by the TLA that a THEORETICAL complaint is worth more? is my neurodivergent expression so awful? is my own safety as a queer activist such an afterthought?

is a pink bag with the words 'love is real' scrawled across the front REALLY going to frighten someone when the posters and pamphlets on the way into in panel would have a photo of my masked face saying THIS IS LITERALLY WHO IS ABOUT TO APPEAR BEFORE YOU.

if THAT accommodation is too much, would it really be so difficult to have someone trot out beforehand and make an announcement? to say 'there is someone on this upcoming panel who needs a mask to express this part of himself, if this makes you uncomfortable then this panel might not be for you'.

and really, i have to heckin ask, is this physical expression of my raw inner truth really so hideous and frightening that fear of making someone uncomfortable is a REAL problem?

(a terrifying display of autism. apparently)

i cannot imagine what kind of precautions they need to take before a stage play featuring costumes and masks.

you MIGHT think chucks queerness and left leaning politics could be the issue with this organization, but they have had drag queens as past speakers (also featuring some GLORIOUS makeup and hair that covers almost all of their faces. VERY CURIOUS). regardless, the TLA do not seem like a conservative bunch.

if you are bisexual or an autistic person who is good at 'passing' you probably already know where this is headed, your dang spiderbuckaroo senses are tingling at FULL ALERT. i will say i do not KNOW the real reason why i was uninvited, and i do not have enough information to make any concrete statement of the real answer. there is only evidence that masks have been fine at TEXAS LIBRARY ASSOCIATION events in the past, but not much else to go on.

so the FACTS part of our discussion ends there, but i think it opens us up to talk about some very important feelings that bisexual and autistic buckaroos know well.

THIS is where we take a unfortunate, hurtful moment and turn it into a discussion. this is where we prove love is real.

as someone who is constantly doubted and put through purity tests because of my unique way, we are pushing up against a subject i know well. thats right buckaroos: we are talking GATEKEEPING

AGAIN, i do not know if this is the answer, but someone in my position might be VERY STRONGLY INCLINED TO THINK that a few well-meaning left leaning buckaroos think i am a joke and that this is a character, and that there is something problematic about my work because i am not really a real person.

any upstanding left leaning organization would OF COURSE allow a mask for a neurodivergent buckaroo with an unusual visual presentation, an autistic buckaroo who conquered his chronic pain ONLY by creating this important space... but what about a FAKE autistic buckaroo?

any upstanding left leaning organization would OF COURSE allow a mask for a queer LGBTQ activist standing up for gay and trans rights against a torrent of scoundrels hunting for his legal identity. its a matter of safety... but what about a FAKE queer activist?

let me be very clear for the 100th time: i am a real person. this is not a joke. i am not playing a character. i am really autistic and bisexual. tinglers are sincere and they are not ‘so bad theyre good’. they are just good. camp damascus is not ‘my first serious book’ because my queer erotica is serious. my art is important and real.

when people tell me to unmask they often do not know WHY they want it, and of course one very good reason is innocent curiosity. but there are SOME cases where i start to get THAT feeling--that tingle all of us ‘passing’ buckaroos get when we can sense the real intent behind the poking and prodding. that is the feeling of stumbling into a gatekeepers crosshairs.

if i was to take off my pink bag, what about my face would you analyze to tell if i was REALLY queer. my eye color? my ear shape? if you learned my legal name, would you see if it sounded autistic? is my voice neurodivergent enough?

or is all of that utterly absurd? i am curious what the TEXAS LIBRARY ASSOCIATION thinks.

PART FIVE: GENDERED

this will be the shortest of parts, but it has to be said. i have a very complex relationship with gender, as written about at length here and here. i understand these things can be difficult to parse for some, but i ask that you trust me when i say that the ONLY reason i have been able to talk about my gender and sexuality and learn these things about myself is because of this pink bag. this outward appearance is a direct expression and reflection of my gender journey.

if the texas library association does not care about my appearance as an expression of my autism, then i cant imagine them giving a dang about it as an expression of my gender and queerness. that being said, it is personally very important to me and i think it should be mentioned

PART SIX: SO YOU WANT TO REMOVE AN AUTISTIC QUEER AUTHOR FROM YOUR EVENT BECAUSE PEOPLE MIGHT FIND THEIR DIFFERENCES SCARY

there is a question to be asked here: how could the TLA have done this correctly?

i have one very big piece of advice i would like to shout from the rooftops. please, for the love of sweet barbara, DO ENOUGH RESEARCH to know if this appearance will be a problem and, IF SO, dont extend an invitation in the first place. unique buckaroos with different presentations are constantly left in this place of limbo because we are bombarded with careless actions like those of the TLA. before you consider extending a branch to an artist who might need more accommodations than usual, think to yourself 'CAN WE MAKE THESE ACCOMMODATIONS?'

putting all of this on the shoulders of a single 'buckaroo with a difference' is exhausting. as the TLA has shown, we currently live on a timeline where a buckaroo like myself never really knows if an invite is SOLID without doing a deep dive history lesson on how often a group discriminates and against who.

i did not want to spend my whole family holiday worrying whether or not i should say something publicly or just lie down and shut my dang mouth. i had to consider HOW i should say it. i had to worry whether or not its worth standing up for myself in the face of the largest state library association in the country. i think buckaroos with differences are with me when i say: WE ARE SICK OF HAVING TO DO THIS WORK TO COVER FOR THE POOR BEHAVIOR OF LARGE ORGANIZATIONS WHO TREAT US BADLY

another option would just be to use kindness and common sense and happily accommodate artists with unique presentations to your conventions

PART SEVEN: LOVE IS STILL REAL

i would like to close by saying THANK YOU to my publisher nightfire and editor kelly for standing up for me. they immediately stood firm and had my back. they are the real dang deal. THANK YOU to my management and agent buds dongwon and gino for trotting along beside me. THANK YOU to the folks at the texas library association who initially invited chuck with goodness in their heart and then likely got bowled over by someone else, and maybe even got knocked to the side by a big closing gate.

i hope there are librarians in texas who are still interested in carrying BURY YOUR GAYS when it comes out (which is ironically about someone who creates a space through art to express their queerness where they cant otherwise). libraries prove love is real and what they do IS SO IMPORTANT. it was SO IMPORTANT TO ME as a young buckaroo and i cannot thank you enough. i am not sure if me writing all of this will hurt my sales in some way, but this opportunity to speak about the reality of disability awareness and queer gatekeeping is too important to stay silent. (if you have not already preordered BURY YOUR GAYS then give it a preorder to make up for some texas library losses i guess.)

which leads me to my final thank you. THANK YOU to the buckaroos reading this. yes YOU. i am in the position to stand up and speak my mind against scoundrel forces ONLY because i have the might of you buckaroos by my side. the buckaroo trot is ALL OF OUR TROT and we are ALL HERE TO PROVE LOVE. i cannot tell you how much i appreciate the way you have created a space for me to express these important parts of myself. you have seen this pink mask over my face and saying YES, I ACCEPT YOU, you have literally saved my life. for that i am so thankful.

if you are UPSET by what youve read here, then turn it into something positive. you can support autistic creators, or make a donation to the AUTISTIC SELF ADVOCACY NETWORK

and besides WHO IS REALLY MISSING OUT? this is what it looks like when you invite the worlds greatest author chuck tingle to your event and treat their identity as valid. WE HAVE A DANG GOOD TIME

KEEP TROTTING INTO THE FUTURE. KEEP KICKING DOWN GATES WHEREVER THEY MAY BE. KEEP PROVING LOVE IS REAL AND PROVING IT TOGETHER. lets go buckaroos - chuck

UPDATE AN HOUR AFTER POSTING:

true buckaroo TJ KLUNE was set to be another author on panel chuck was removed from and has informed me he has now chosen to decline his invitation in support and solidarity with chuck. i am so deeply moved by this. thank you from bottom of heart buckaroo

to be very clear TJ has a huge platform and DOES NOT NEED TO DO THIS. these conferences are great for book sales and he is taking a hit out of pure solidarity. this is queer buckaroos standing up for eachother. i am floored by this kindness and love

please consider checking out his books if they are not already covering your dang bookshelf. chuck blurbed IN THE LIVES OF PUPPETS and i was blown away i heckin loved it

MOST RECENT UPDATE:

here is more

[jaewritesfic]

Everlasting Trio Nobody Knows AU DP x DC Part 4

Part 3

(Tim POV! This is a long one 😅)

 Tim almost has it. He's so close to cracking this file he can fucking taste it. He's been fighting this thing for two weeks. It's the most incomprehensible and infuriating code he's ever faced off against, which is fitting considering who gave it to them.

The engineer. THEIR engineer. The engineer they didn't ask for and Tim still isn't sure how they got, and the single biggest mystery in Tim's fucking life right now.

See, a significant amount of Bat gadgets at this point are Tim's brainchildren. He imagines them, he designs them, he workshops and tests them.

A few months ago, he'd had a pouch on his utility belt full of experimental pellets meant for slowing down fleeing vehicles. They were designed to break when run over and the compound inside would expand into durable, sticky foam that would ensnare tires.

He'd tested them in the cave.

He had not been prepared to take one hit to that side and have to frantically divest himself of that pouch before he became Gotham's latest foam based cryptid. 

His family had laughed themselves silly at him even as he broke off in pursuit of the drug runners he'd been fighting.

When Tim had doubled back expecting a mess to clean up and pellets to rework? It had been gone. All of it. The foam, the pellets, the pouch of his utility belt.

A serious problem, because who knows who got their hands on that?

Then it had shown back up.

That is to say, Gordon had called them because he found a pouch with a note labeled ‘for Red Robin’ sitting on the stand of the Bat Signal and didn't dare touch it.

After making sure it wasn't a bomb or some kind of biological weapon, Tim had opened the pouch - his own belt pouch - and found pellets. New pellets. Different pellets.

The note just read, “As funny as that was to watch, I fixed them for you. No more premature sploogage on the job. :3 P.S. here's a recipe for solution to dissolve future intentional discharges.”

They'd been right, too. The new pellets were tested (in case THEY were a bomb or biological weapon) and they'd been just strong enough to safely transport but still break when under the pressure of tires. Even the foam was more effective, and the spray Tim synthesized from that stupid recipe had worked like a dream.

What. The fuck.

This person not only improved his design and came up with a dissolution agent from scratch in days, they'd been watching without him knowing and made off with the original pellets without anyone noticing.

This was either a rogue in the making or someone they wanted on their side, and either way they needed to be found.

So Tim had done the obvious.

He'd put together a lockbox of money for the product they'd been given, loaded it with no less than ten (10) bat trackers and a note thanking their mysterious benefactor and requesting to meet up. He'd exploded a foam pellet on a rooftop and left the box on it in the hopes they'd notice and find it, then hung around far enough to not be seen and close enough to beat feet as soon as the trackers started moving. 

They did not start moving. They all went offline simultaneously. 

Tim has never moved so fast in his life, and yet by the time he got to the rooftop there was a pile of foam and nothing else. Not even a trace of whoever took the lockbox.

The next day, there was a ping of one (1) tracker that led them to a note thanking him for the money, refusing to meet, and asking if they'd considered certain improvements to their grapples with schematics for said designs.

Thus started the most bizarre and infuriating chase through notes, money, helpful designs and disappearing trackers Tim has ever been a part of.

Last time, the engineer had left them a USB stick and a note claiming that since they really wanted to know about him so bad, they could have the information on the USB if they could crack the encryption on the zip file inside.

Obviously they screened heavily for viruses or backdoors, but long story short Tim has been trying to crack the fucking thing for two weeks and refuses to let Oracle help. It's personal. It's a matter of pride. 

He could swear the code itself has actively been sabotaging his attempts to hack it, which is, you know. Impossible. 

Ping!

Tim blinks, looking over at the map on another monitor of the Bat computer. 

“Motherfucker-”

He taps into Duke’s comms. This is the first time this has ever happened during the day shift, he wasn't expecting it.

“Signal! I need you on the roof of the warehouse on the corner of Fifth and Everest - a tracker just came online.”

Another thing that infuriates Tim. You can't just turn Bat trackers on and off. They're activated, and then they either stay active or they're destroyed. They can't be turned off and then reactivated.

And fucking yet.

Duke groans, but his own tracker starts making its way in that direction.

“Dude. He's gonna be long gone by the time I get there. He always is.”

“He can't run from me forever,” Tim insists. “I'm almost in this damn file, and I am going to find him and dangle him off a roof from his ankles for giving us this runaround, so help me God.”

“Uh huh,” Duke deadpans. “Sure you are. I'm almost there, and- oh look! A note. What a surprise!”

Tim hears Duke touch down on the rooftop, eyes on the code on his screen while his brother clears his throat and reads aloud.

“Ahem- ‘Good morning, sunshine!’ - guess that's me - ‘I hear some bats and birds have been murdering tires at an alarming rate with the way they drive their bikes-’”

Tim freezes. He's not listening anymore.

“Signal.”

“‘- and that just can't be good for business. Nobody wants a bald tire ruining a chase. So boy do I have the thing for you-”

“Signal!”

“What?”

“I got it.”

“Huh? Got what?”

“I cracked his file. I got it.”

Tim is staring, wide eyed and full of a mixture of elation and trepidation at the contents of the zip file. It's a single text file titled, ‘Wow! You did it!’

“Oh, shit? Well? What's in it?”

Tim swallows, mouse hovering over the file. He takes a deep breath, then double clicks.

The file opens.

Tim blinks.

“Red Robin? What's in it?”

Tim scrolls slowly down, disbelief and horror dawning across his face. “Oh my God.”

“What? Come on, man, talk to me.”

Tim scrolls further.

“Oh. My God.”

“Red? Red Robin, you're scaring me, man.”

Tim puts his face in his hands. Voice muffled, he responds.

“Duke.”

“...Red? You okay?”

“No.”

“No?”

“It's the entire Bee Movie script.”

Silence reigns for a solid five seconds before Duke breaks and descends into raucous, hysterical laughter.

Even muffled by his own hands, Tim's scream of rage scares the bats in the cave into a tizzy.

Part 5

Masterpost

[monstersflashlight]

Commission for @itsafullmoon

A/N: thank you so much for commissioning again! It means the world. <3 This was so fun to write, everyone needs a friendly werewolf who takes care of you. I didn't include the bedroom part because i thought this would make more sense, hope y’all enjoy it!

Request: werewolf x fem!human Fem!reader is going through hard times and makes a habit of coming home from work to go cry in kitchen and continue upstairs to get ready for bed. She’s completely unaware that her neighbor has been closely watching her routine since she moved across the street 6 months ago, he desperately wants to know what’s wrong, hurt who ever is hurting her!…..decided, she’s the perfect mate! I would like it mentioned in story that fem!human has long black hair.

Maybe I’m a bit of a creep

Werewolf x fem!reader || oral sex, knotting || tw: stalker (lowkey)

After a long day at work, you arrive home like a soul in distress. You leave everything into a pile at the door and walk to the kitchen half zombie. Last couple weeks have been a complete nightmare and you just want to get home, drink some wine... and cry. So you are going to do exactly that.

You are a strong woman who can deal with all this shit and walk away after. But first: crying. Just a bit of crying and then you can keep going. You can do this. But your inner monologue it’s soon cut short by the first tear, followed by a thousand more. You stood there in the middle of your kitchen, face down as tears rolling down your face and falling to the floor. You don’t even care you will probably have to clean that later.

You stood there, crying and sipping on some wine like every other day of the past days. You want to be stronger than that, but you just… Can’t. Life is a mess and sometimes crying is the only way to make you feel a tiny fraction better. But apparently not even that can you do in peace.

There’s a knock on your back door. You look up at the clock and get a bit wary, grabbing your phone in case you need to speed dial the cops or something. “Yes?” You don’t dare opening without asking first.

“I’m your neighbor, can I borrow some salt?” His deep and grumpy voice… Your hot neighbor, the werewolf next door. Fuck.

You knock your head against the door and breathe deeply before answering. You frantically wipe the tears away. “I- sure.” You try to get yourself together as fast as possible, you probably look like a mess and he’s going to see you in all your misfortune. There they go all your opportunities to hit on him at some point. Fuck. Your luck is just the worst.

You open the door a bit and try to back down to get the salt, but before you can do that, he’s asking: “Why are you crying?”

You try to be as subtle as possible as you try to wipe away a couple more tears that escaped your traitorous eyes. It doesn’t work. “What? I’m not.” It sounds fake even to your own ears, but you stay put, maybe you can gaslight him slightly to make him feel you are telling the truth.

That thought makes you feel like a shithead, but dang, you want to maintain some kind of dignity in this stupid situation. Why had to be him? Couldn’t it be any other neighbor that is not hot as hell and you didn’t want to bang since the first day he moved in next door? Ugh. Your luck is truly terrible.

He takes a deep breath and approaches you. “You cry every night. I’ve seen you.” He wipes away some of your tears with his clawed, furry paw, and it takes you two more seconds to register what he just said.

You look at him like he’s crazy, because he truly is. Has he been spying on you? Is he a creep? “What? How? Dude are you a creep? I’m going to call the cops.” You pull your phone from your pocket ready to do just that.

But he stops you “No! No, don’t do that. I’m-” He stops mid sentence, thinking about it, and ends up saying: “well, maybe I’m a bit of a creep.” You want to cry and laugh at the same time, what is this situation? Is he really accepting being a creep? What the actual fuck. “It’s just that your kitchen window is right across my living room window and you cry here every night.” You look across your kitchen and true to his word, his living room is right across your kitchen window. Fuck.

Can you be more lame? He’s been enjoying his dinner every night just to have you crying across the lawn like a pathetic woman. Lasts pieces of your self-respect feel like running away at that moment. Fuck. Your luck is truly and completely fucked up.

But to your surprise, and probably his, too, his next words make you both speechless: “Let me make you feel better.” You stare at him, mouth agape and your brain running so fast you can’t even process what he just said. What the fuck does he mean by that?

“What?” You ask, finally, when your brain gains some kind of control back over your body. He stares at you, his ears twitching in the most werewolf way possible. You wonder if he can hear the rapid beat of your heart.

“Let. Me. Make. You. Feel. Better.” He enunciates each word as if you were stupid, and at that moment, you feel pretty stupid. He’s so fucking handsome you can’t control your own brain around him, or your reactions, or how fucking done with everything you are because you want to say yes to his innuendo so bad.

You try not to feel the anticipation about it, but you can feel your pussy getting excited about it. “How are you going to do that?” You ask, you want to believe it’s an innuendo, but with your luck lately, you can’t ignore that it might be just a stupid idea, and he’s just talking about making you soup or something.

He looks at you and smells the air, sniffing you. You don’t know what you smell like, but he smirks and says: “I’m going to bend you down over the table and I’m going to eat you out. And then… I’m going to fuck you so hard you won’t be thinking about your problems anymore.” You feel your heartbeat accelerate even more, your pussy getting instantly wetter. Fuck.

“I-” You hesitate, even though your pussy is screaming at you to stop being stupid and take this opportunity, bet some werewolf dick would make you feel incredible.

He looks at you, his face impossibly tender. “Say yes.” His whisper is so soft and filled with emotion that you feel like crying again, but this time for very different reasons.

“Yes,” you whisper back, feeling shy all of sudden.

“Thank the goddess for that.” He drives right in, framing your face with his paws and kissing you until your brain is spinning. You break apart just for him to tear your clothes off your body, making you giggle at his eagerness. He manhandles you until you are face down on the table, bent down, and he’s kneeling behind you, his face right over your pussy. That’s hot. “Bon appétit.” You are about to laugh at the absurdity of the moment and his words when you feel the first touch of his tongue against your pussy. God.

He gives you no heads up, he starts devouring your pussy like he’s a starved man and you are the last source of food in the whole world. He licks and kisses, and makes out with your cunt. Meanwhile, you don’t know what to do with your hands, grabbing and pulling at your hair. You groan and cry out and feel like the universe is behind your eyes as he keeps eating you out desperately.

The orgasm catches you by surprise, arching your back and pushing your hips against his face as he grunts his approval. You grind your pussy back into his face as he makes the most erotic sounds of pleasure against your sensitive areas. When you come down from the high, he’s right there to catch you, his whole body covering your back as you feel the tip of his erection against your entrance.

“Say yes,” he repeats.

“Yes.” This time is not shy or embarrassed, you are completely on board with it, you want to be fucked until you are a mess of heat and juices.

He grunts at your agreement and starts pushing in. You thought he would be wild and savage, entering you in one hard thrust like all those romance books you love. But he doesn’t, he whispers sweet nothings to your ear, telling you how pretty you are, how he was wishing to ask you out since he moved in but didn’t find the courage. He tells you about how perfect you are, how good of a mate you’d make for him. And you preen at his compliments, your insides getting warm and your heart accelerating to the point of worry.

But he keeps going, his dick so far inside you can feel him against the back of your throat. Fuck. “Is it fully inside?” You ask after he’s been still for a long moment.

“Not yet, just a bit more. Breathe slow for me, let me in.” You do exactly that and groan loud and deep when you feel the last of him enter you. Good goddess he’s so deep.

“You are… so deep.” You let out, your breath caught in your throat. He stays put, not even moving a millimeter, and still whispering sweet nothings against your ear. Bit by bit you relax, and when the feeling inside of you is no longer overwhelming you groan out: “Move.” He waits no longer. He pulls back as much as he can and drives right in, a slow tempo that is driving you insane. “Faster. Harder,” you order, your brain already lost in pleasure. His dick is so big that he hits every single pleasure point at once.

“Are you sure?” He sounds uncertain and that makes you like him even more.

“Yes!” You cry out as he complies, pulling out and back in fast and hard. You groan and moan and a chorus of ah ah ah joins the slap of skin against skin.

He keeps fucking you, the symphony of ecstasy getting louder and louder, but he keeps talking, “your fucking black hair drives me insane.” He tells you, pulling at your hair hard and making you moan.

“What? Why?” His non-stopping pounding is driving you insane, there’s no way you can focus enough to understand what he’s saying.

“I think about it constantly, what would you look with your hair tied back and on your knees? What would you look when I grab it and ride you? It drives me crazy, and now every time I see you in a ponytail I get a boner.” You giggle at his confession, but another hard thrust against your G-spot makes your eyes roll back. He keeps talking, “and you wear too many fucking ponytails.” He punctuates every word with a thrust that have you seeing the whole galaxy. His big balls are bouncing on your clit and you feel so close to the edge you think you are going to break into a million pieces.

He fucks two more orgasms out of you, your body lax and fucked out under him. You don’t know if you could continue, but you have no strength to tell him anything about it. And it feels so good… Over-sensitivity making each thrust a new experience.

But when you think it’s close to ending, he asks, “are you ready to take my knot, mate?” You are startled at his words, but at that moment you wouldn’t care even if a burglar broke in. You need him like you need air, you want to come around his fat knot next.

“Yes!” You scream, a little part of your brain worrying someone could hear how loud you two are being, but not really caring.

His dick starts to expand inside of you, so big you cry out and thrash under him. He holds you down with his own body as he pushes inside fully. When his knot is fully settled, he starts to grind his hips against your ass, and you see starts, another orgasm being ripped off you. He groans when your pussy clenches around him, and you feel the first shoot of his cum deep inside. So much of it. He cums for what feels like hours.

He pulls out and you feel a gush of fluids dripping down your legs onto the floor. Gross. But fast as lightning, he’s there with a warm cloth, cleaning you out and telling you how pretty you look all fucked out. You don’t move from your position, unable to, your legs feel like jelly.

A bit later, when you are on the sofa, your head on his chest and your ass on his lap, you ask him, “Did you mean it?”

He looks at you puzzled, confused like a puppy. “What?”

You breathe hard, trying not to overthink too much what you are about to say: “You called me your mate.”

He stops, his face blank as he looks at you, deep in thought. But he doesn’t make you wait long. “I- Yes. I mean it.” You feel your heart expand, like it’s being overfilled with joy and anticipation.

“Would you go out with me?” You finally ask, feeling your face blush as you hide it in his neck, softly biting the tendon there, making him moan.

He grabs your face in his big hands and makes you look at him. “I’d thought you’d never ask,” he says, a big feral grin showing all his teeth. You blush harder when he kisses you deeply.

Well, at least crying got you somewhere… To the lap of a hot werewolf.

[rin-may-1103]

Badger Day Au (part two)

Previous | Master Post | Next

"Fourteen?" Aquaman repeats, turning his chair to face Danny. "Fourteen what? Days, weeks, months?"

Flash hissed like he was in pain, "Please don't say it's been fourteen months!"

Danny trailed his eyes away from the ceiling, away from the bothersome crack, and toward the single window in the room. He could just barely make out the Cassiopeia constellation. Its distinct W shape winked and flickered, drawing up a memory from a few loops into this whole mess. Tucker had wanted to comfort him, seeing as Danny had just broken down crying over how frustrated he was with everything.

The Ghost of Cassiopeia. Also known as IC 63, about 550 light years away.

A giant cloud of dust and gas. A nebula. Its ethereal glow reminded people of spirits they would see in haunted houses or fields. So they called it the ghost of Cassiopeia.

But it wasn't a ghost, it's simply hydrogen that's been bombarded with ultraviolet radiation from the nearby star. A blue giant called Gamma Cassiopeiae. It's also known as the center of the constellation. The light from the blue giant makes the majority of the nebula glow a vivid red. The blue around the edges is just light reflected off the dust within.

Tucker had joked that Danny should try and see how far he could get before the loop restarted. See if he could even get past Jupiter. Danny had just snorted and brushed his suggestion off. What was the point when he should be spending his time trying to fix the loop?

About six years in, Danny had given up and tried.

Eight months he had spent flying. He got further and further out into the void, surrounded by darkness and the beautiful stars in the distance to guide him. He never managed to make it past Pluto before he was brought back.

"Years," Danny confessed, his eyes still trained on the faraway stars.

"YEARS!?!" Superman cried, standing up so fast his chair was sent flying into the wall. Danny glanced back up at the crack, watching as it grew just a little larger, plaster dust sprinkling down like freshly fallen snow.

Sighing, Danny sat up and stared at the group. How many times has he had this conversation? How many times was he going to explain what was happening? How many times was he going to wake up in his bed just to restart all over again?

"Years," Danny repeated, "Fourteen years. Like I said, I've tried everything."

They sat in silence for a moment, just digesting his situation. Batman was standing still, his fists clenched tightly. Superman looked faint like he would pass out. Flash looked devastated.

Wonder Woman leaned forward, her brows furled in confusion, "Were you cursed, young one?"

"No, I checked. You checked. Heck, even Zatanna and Constantine have checked. I'm not cursed." Danny grumbled, slumping down to rest his head on the table.

He wanted to go home. He wanted to just curl up and sleep for the next however long. Wanted to hug Jazz and cry about how unfair it all was. Wanted to curl into his mother's side and cling until she made it all better. Hide behind his father until he knew it was safe.

but he couldn't.

Something always happened when he tried. If he stayed home from the very beginning of the day, the league would call him over and over again, convinced he was needed for the case Batman had. They even sent Flash over a few times just to search the city to drag him to the meeting.

(He was happy they hadn't figured out his civilian identity yet, but man was it hard to watch as Flash stuck his face into every nook and cranny around town yelling his name. Danny's lost count of how many times the man got overshadowed.)

If he managed to convince them that he was in a loop, then they found it would be safer for him to stay up on the watchtower. where they could keep an eye on him while searching for a way to break it.

Or, if he managed to convince them he was sick or something and they left him alone, Vlad would start acting up. Jack would call him on the phone to cancel Maddie's meeting with him because Danny was 'sick'. If he convinces Maddie to go and stay home with his dad, then Jack somehow opens the portal long enough for one of his rogues to slip through.

It just never ends. Everything he's tried ends with him having to go ghost and fight. The calmest day he's managed to have ended with Box ghost blasting the portal doors open so he could give him a homemade lunch from his wife, which then led the ghost to find Jack's new weapon box and go ballistic because of his obsession.

after that, he gave up spending time with his parents and focused more on his friends and Jazz. This was equally disastrous.

so, his safest option was to go to the meeting and stay with the league.

Glancing up, Danny watched as the time slowly changed on the clock; six twenty-nine, tick, tick, tick, six thirty.

Sighing, Danny sat up and held his hand out, making eye contact with Batman. He might as well get the day going, no use in wallowing in self-pity. He's done that plenty already.

"I already figured out what the cult wanted to do, we just need to figure out where their next meeting is. I'll fill you guys in on the rest." Danny added, wiggling his fingers in the hope it would make Batman move faster.

Batman sighed and handed him the folder. Once Danny had the folder, Batman sat down to listen to his report intently.

Flipping the file open, Danny grabbed the first page and showed it to the group, ignoring how a copy showed up on the big screen behind Batman. (again, why use paper if he was just going to project it?)

"This is the result of the cult's last meeting, two weeks ago. as you can see, the ground has been scorched and the ritual circle permanently carved into the cement." Tossing the paper and ignoring it as Flash scrambled to catch it, Danny grabbed the next couple of pages.

Holding up the seventy missing person reports, Danny placed them on the table and separated them into four different piles. "After some digging, Batman was able to figure out the pattern between the missing people. This group," Danny pointed to the one on the left, "consists of organ donors who were anemic."

pointing to the pile on the right, Danny continued, "This group is made up of meta-humans who have powers related to the elements. they also all happen to have more than one piercing, though Batman didn't really figure out if that had an impact on whether they were chosen or not..."

Pointing to the northern pile, Danny separated the top seven pages. "while everyone in this pile has some relation to an ancient and powerful witch from the 1500s, these seven are the only ones who still share her 'family' name. I'm not sure exactly how this affects the cult's motives, Batman hadn't shared that with me in all the loops so far."

Danny glared at Batman in annoyance, he didn't care if there was a good reason or not. Without fail, in each loop that Danny's made it through where Batman makes the connection; he would refuse to tell Danny about it.

Rolling his eyes at Batman's unwavering apathy, Danny continued, "The last pile consists of people who have been dead at some point in their lives. whether it be just a few seconds or a few weeks."

passing the reports around, Danny pulled the next page from the file. "Flash and Constantine were able to connect the past locations of the cult gatherings. Constantine figured out there was a specific magic signature that he could follow, so he had Flash drag him around the world to map the locations."

tapping the table, Danny selected the world map. Glancing at the paper he had pulled out, Danny marked the places with a red dot. Then he marked the places Constantine found in blue. Looking up, Danny found the league staring at him.

"What?" Danny huffed, shoving the hologram away from him. Batman grabbed it and started to examine it.

"So, do we need Constantine for this?" Green Lantern asks, scratching his head.

Shrugging, Danny tossed the folder over to Wonder Woman. "You can call him if you want, but he won't get here until noon. He's in the house of mystery dealing with a pixie infestation."

"pixie infestation?" Superman asks, turning to look over to Zatanna. Zatanna reached into her jacket and handed him a pamphlet, not turning away from watching Danny with curious eyes.

"Anyway, like I was saying. the cult's been going around taking all these people and using them in their rituals."

"you said you knew what they were trying to do, what was it?" Batman asked with a noticeable frown.

Sighing, Danny pinched his nose. "they've been trying to summon Pariah Dark."

"The ghost king!?!?" Zatanna squawked, slamming her hands onto the table.

"yeah, that bastard," Danny grumbled, rubbing his face. The cult hadn't been successful for all fourteen years now, so Danny wasn't too worried about it. But still... If something, anything really, changed just the slightest; would they succeed? Would they drag Prariah out of his sarcophagus and let him lose on the living?

Danny's already had to face him once, he didn't know if he could do it again. The Fenton ecto-skeleton suit had been ruined last time, to the point dad hadn't even tried to fix it.

"Bastard?" Aquaman repeated, eyes narrowed, "You speak as if you've met him before."

"I have," Danny admitted, "and I will again if we don't do something about the cult." What if this is the loop the cult succeeded? what if it's the next one, or the one after that? could Danny even do anything to prevent it?

Zatara sat down with a heavy thump, her eyes widening in shock. Danny lifted his brow, wondering what was wrong with her. She hadn't acted like this any other time? what was different? had he said something he hadn't last time? hmm, something to think about later.

"back to the case," Danny shrugged, turning to gesture at the hologram of the world. "we were able to narrow down the cult's next location to about seven hundred places. I was able to check off about six hundred and thirty these last few loops. That leaves about seventy places they could be."

Danny used a yellow dot to select the seventy places he still needed to check.

"um," Flash started, nervously glancing between Danny and the globe. "you just highlighted the whole grand cannon and all of Alaska... and the Himalayas.... and the-"

"Yep," Danny cut in, "Like I said, I checked off all the others. These are the last seventy I still need to check. I haven't before because it's a lot of ground to cover. I was hoping I'd catch a break and find the cult before I had to check all those places, but nope. The fruitloops just had to make it difficult.

"oh," Flash winced, "do, do you want me to check them out?"

sighing, Danny leaned back in his chair, "I would love to have you check them out, but you need a magic user who knows what they're looking for to go with you. it's why we haven't found them yet, it's taking forever."

"Oh," was the only response he got.

"you know what we are looking for?" Zatara asks, finally getting over whatever had surprised her.

"yeah, it's hard to explain. I'll have to bring you or the others to a previous place and show you."

"hmm, alright. after the meeting, why don't you bring me so that at least one more person can help start looking, until, john is freed up at noon?" she suggests, tilting her head to the side.

"sounds good with me," Danny shrugged. it's not like it'll hurt to have her looking around, heck, they might even get lucky and she'll find them.

Next