#but i also needed to get this out of my system

[lcndonorr1s]

okay... but bestfriend!lando who has kissed you only once before, is DYING to be your new years kiss, who sticks with you throughout the new years party. this boy does NOT let you have a single moment with anyone else. he's needy, he's got his eyes stuck on you, his hands on you at all times. and when you're no where to be found 10 mins before the clock strikes 12, he loses his shit, frantically going through every room in the house to find you, only for you to be in a bathroom, brushing your teeth and using mouthwash- cause lando's made it quite clear that he is gonna kiss you at midnight and you are NOT risking bad breath, not today. you come out, glancing at the big numbers on your lockscreen which scream 11.59 back at you. you finally bump into him in the corridor, from where practically drags you out to the balcony to see the fireworks when he finally, FINALLY, kisses you. you both make it just in time, the cold air wracking a shiver down to your spine. lando places his hands on either side of your neck, cradling your face oh so close to his, when your lips meet, devastatingly slow. he kisses you, passionate and rough yet sweet and gentle and god... his kiss has you weak in the knees, moving impossibly closer to him to stabilize yourself. you finally pull apart, a string of spit still connecting your lips to his. his voice is beautifully low, eyes half-lidded and focused on you, through all the chaos of the party around you. he's asking you if you've eaten a mint- and when you can only muster up a nod, half out of your mind, still dizzy from the kiss, he's telling you to never do it again, telling you that he's obsessed with the way you taste, that he misses your flavour. he's telling you that his appetite for your lips has only grown larger now that he knows what he's missing out on. and if this is the beginning of your year with him, you're only left wondering how much better it gets from here.

[keferon]

Chapter 3 of Blurr’s storyline in Mecha AU!

Previous chapter

“Speaking of Mechs.” continues Blurr, ”That thing's evacuation system sucks. What if you were stunned by the fall? What if something short-circuits and starts a fire???”

Swindle just clenches the glass in his hands. Feels the cold moisture of condensation dripping down onto his fingers.

“Then I'd burn.” he doesn't say

Under the cut⤵️

——————————————————

It's Swindle's birthday.

He thinks it is.

He's pretty sure.

Since he was taken into the program, it's always hard to tell. It's like time flows differently here. He had a calendar, but Brawl put it somewhere a while ago and then forgot where it was. And they're not allowed to have phones yet. Though Swindle assumes Onslaught managed to steal one from someone anyway.

Shit. Where's the calendar?

Swindle remembers the date, but can't remember the month.

There's a strange static tingling sensation in the back of his head. If he turns his head too fast, it'll grow into an unpleasant pricking pain.

The last time in the lab was disgusting.

He can't remember what month it is. He's not even sure why it bothers him so much. Not that birthdays mean anything within the walls of the program.

He stops in the middle of the living room and looks around with a meticulous eye. He's already checked the beds, desk, and nightstands...hah.

“Hey have any of you seen my calendar?”

Vortex, sitting on top of the bunk bed shakes the ash off his cigarette right down into Blast Off's lap.

“Nope.”

“TEX YOU'RE LITTERING ON MY BED.”

“I could have ..torn it up” offers Brawl from across the room.

Swindle turns on his heels and angrily rests his arms at his sides.

“You tore it?”

“I might have,” Brawl scratches the back of his head.

Swindle pinches the bridge of his nose

That's fine. Not that he cares that much. Not that any celebration at all would save the crappy day.

He has some new “experimental” medical procedure scheduled for later, which generally means suffering. Or if he's lucky, some critter will attack the city and instead of squirming on the slab, he'll have to go cuddle with huge nasty beasts. Which is slightly better than the actual procedures. He'd like that to happen. If only his head would also stop buzzing....

“Happy birthday to me” Swindle thinks, sticking his Mech hand under the plates of a particularly ugly monster and pulling something disgustingly oozing green blood out of there. He can see the faces of the random gawkers who didn't have time to evacuate. Ooh, some of them got that nasty stuff on their faces. Swindle has no time to feel sorry for them.

The monster did attack, but it's entirely possible that this monster ended the last meager supply of luck Swindle had. Because somewhere. Something. In his head begins to hurt again and the world in front of his eyes begins to slowly blur and..

ahh FUCK….

The monster grabs him knocks him to the ground and Swindle can literally feel in his bones that something's wrong, but the data from his Mech doesn't give him any useful information. Which isn't that uncommon. These things are glitchy as hell and aren't designed to recognize anything but the most basic popular malfunctions.

The word “error” shines mockingly in his face. Blurring in his eyes and reflecting in red on his uniform.

Error, error, what the hell is this error. He needs to know what's wrong so he doesn't accidentally kill himself, but all this bucket offers him is oops. You're in trouble teeheee~

He can hear the sound of Blast Off's giant cannon in the distance. And the loud rumble where Vortex and Onslaught are trying to get out of the ring of monsters.

His Mech is unresponsive. His damn machine refuses to move and Swindle isn't quite sure if it's the Mech that's the problem, because his head feels like a piece of raw rotten meat and maybe the error meant that what's broken is him.

The monster leans over him, trying to rip off whatever it can rip off and thank god this thing apparently isn't smart enough to realize that the Mech is controlled from the head because it's aiming straight for his chest.

He needs to get out. If he can't get this thing to move, he needs to get the fuck out of it before the alien gets him.

He manages to open the emergency hatch and quietly slip out and ohhhh the world is spinning, this is not bloody good.

He manages to take a few steps before a loud B A N G comes from somewhere above and IS THAT A TRAIN???? Who in their right mind would think of using a fucking train as a throwing weapon???? Is that Brawl? It's got to be Brawl. Oh, Swindle is so gonna kill him.

Because (sadly) in addition to the monster, the train and Swindle, there's also physics involved in this circus.

So while the monster is effectively brought to rest and knocked sideways with a hole in it’s head, the train stops its forward motion and starts its downward motion.

Right onto Swindle's head.

He just has time to think that dying from a train falling out of the sky is a pretty creative death. His legs are shaking, his head is buzzing and he only manages to take half a sluggish step in an attempt to avoid the inevitable when a loud “MOVE” comes to his ears and something yanks him to the side.

The tug sends fire down his spine and head. The ensuing landing reverberates with pain in his shoulder and sides. He barely has time to process the first two sensations until a moment later he hears a rumble so deafening that he thinks his eardrums are about to burst.

Swindle props himself up on his elbows and hisses in pain as the movement causes the back of his head to sting.

“Ah I'll fuckin' kill him...”

A voice comes above him

“Ouw dude. You okay?”

There's.. Some teenager hovering over him. And behind him is lying...the wrecked train...right where Swindle himself was standing a second ago.

The strange teen frowns worriedly and pulls Swindle upright and drags him somewhere else

“Come on, it's best not to be in the open during monster attacks”

“Ah” thinks Swindle ”right. Without Mech you're a pathetic tiny piece of chop begging to be stomped on by Brawl.”

He tries to focus on balance so he doesn't hang too much on this kid.

They find the nearest unlocked door, which turns out to be the entrance to an underground bar.

“So” says the stranger, letting go of Swindle and shaking the dust off his hair ” You're a pilot! That's so cool, but you're kinda small for a pilot.”

Swindle sighs sullenly.

“I'll let you have that one comment about my height because you helped me, but next time you're dead.”

“Helped? I saved your ass.”

“Helped a lot” says Swindle grudgingly. “Thanks.”

The teen laughs and climbs into the bar. It's a mess everywhere, people clearly evacuated in a hurry and threw everything in haste.

“What's your name? Oh, or, wait. Do you guys use code names? I've heard pilots call each other by call signs, but half the time those call signs sound so dumb, I don't see how they can respond to that.”

He waits for the kid to cut off his flow of words to take a breath. Man, what a chatty boy.

“You can call me Swindle.”

“Kay” the kid pulls out a couple glasses ”I'm Blurr. Would you like something Swindle? I don't mean to brag, but I'm pretty good at mixing cocktails.”

Swindle looks around the room suspiciously. The bar, even though it's underground, looks pretty good. Too good, in fact. The place is clearly not for the poor.

He walks over to the bar and climbs onto a bar stool. There's no one else in here but them, but the electricity is on so he doesn't doubt for a second that they're being filmed by a security camera right now. Maybe a few even.

Blurr throws him an expectant look.

Swindle pretends to go through his pockets. As if there could be money in them out of nowhere. Then he makes a comically confused face and spreads his hands.

“Oh, no, I think I left my millions at home. What's the cheapest thing you have?”

Blurr snorts.

“Ice is free.”

“I'll take the ice then” nods Swindle.

There is a loud rumbling sound above them. It must be Vortex having fun again bouncing on the aliens that have fallen to the ground, crushing their heads.

Swindle is just. He takes off his helmet, takes a glass of ice and presses it to his head enjoying the way the nasty buzzing recedes.

Blurr waits for the rumbling to recede before speaking again.

“But really. You're a pilot but...uh. Are you even old enough to drink?”

Swindle sends him his best grumpy look. It's not exactly a joke about his height, but it's damn close.

“Are you old enough to pour?”

“Sure,” says Blurr too fast for it to be true. If Swindle had to guess, he'd say the guy in front of him is no older than seventeen. The tattered jeans and the T-shirt with the F1 logo printed on it definitely don't help. And, hey, those headphones look very expensive. So do the sneakers. Kid's clearly from a wealthy family.

Blurr pulls out a bottle of syrup from somewhere and pours it straight into his mouth. Doesn't miss, which is amusing. Doesn't wince, which is frankly impressive. Swindle feels the unbearable sweetness just looking at him.

It suddenly hits him

“Hey, do you have a phone?”

“Sure,” Blurr pours himself more syrup. Swindle twitches.

“What's the day today?”

Blurr's mouth is full of an unimaginable amount of sugar, so he just pulls out his phone and turns its screen toward Swindle and oh...oh. He was wrong about the date. And the month, too. It's not his birthday. His birthday was a week ago...

Does that mean he must be nineteen now? Yeah, that makes him nineteen.

Blurr takes the phone back and slips it into his pocket.

“Your face looks funny.”

“I just realized it's my birthday today,” smiles Swindle.

“Oooooooohh~~~” rejoices Blurr ”Congratulations! It's kind of poetic that you almost died just today. Can you imagine how funny the numbers on your tombstone would have looked.”

Swindle chokes on air.

“That's certainly a very appropriate comment, thank you...”

“Sorry haha said without thinking.” Blurr reaches under the counter again and pulls out a bottle from there “Hey, they have more syrups!”

There's another loud rumble from upstairs.

Blurr presses his head into his shoulders and stares up at the ceiling as if hoping to see something through it.

Swindle puts his elbows and head on the tabletop

“Don't worry, it's just Brawl.”

Blurr doesn't take his eyes off the ceiling

“ You can tell that by the sound of falling concrete?”

Swindle lazily dangles his feet. The chair is high and even the toes of his shoes don't reach the floor.

“Brawl is the loudest. And the heaviest, too. He's always crashing into everything, throwing things and breaking things too. You can hear him a mile away.”

He pauses to listen

“And that kch-ooooooooomm is Blast Off's cannon. It's some super rare experimentally advanced one, so it sounds like something out of a space movie. He couldn't stop bragging about it for half a year when he got it.”

Blurr chuckles and leans his elbows on the counter, relaxing.

“ And this...uh...what's this?”

“That's Vortex, he's our local lunatic. Best not to listen too much to what he does, it's almost always disgusting in ways you would never even consider.”

Blurr makes a disgruntled face and is silent for a couple minutes.

“It's weird hearing you call them by their names. I mean, I kind of always knew Mechs were run by people but you guys are never seen, so most of the time it's just.. Huge robots and huge monsters. You know what I mean. I was actually surprised when I saw you get out of that Mech.”

Swindle just nods. Because, what else is there to add.

“Speaking of Mechs.” continues Blurr, ”That thing's evacuation system sucks. What if you were stunned by the fall? What if something short-circuits and starts a fire???”.

Swindle just clenches the glass in his hands. Feels the cold moisture of condensation dripping down onto his fingers

“Then I'd burn.” he doesn't say

Blurr doesn't seem to notice his glum mood

“Oh, hey. If it's no secret, why did you go into piloting in the first place?”

Because he had no choice? He can't answer that, that information isn't for civilians.

Because he didn't know what he was getting into until it was too late? That's not vague enough either.

Because he was up to his neck in debt and barely into college before a smiling man showed up on his doorstep and offered him good money if he agreed to a couple tests...?

“I had to do it for the people.” Swindle decides to repeat a line of propaganda.

“Ohhhh.... That's...a good reason. The monsters are disgusting, of course. But the reason is cool.”

Swindle just. Holds his glass of melting ice, listens to Blurr's mutterings, and enjoys the peace. This random teenager is not his superior or colleague and has nothing to do with the organization at all. Swindle doesn't have to remember to salute or follow orders or fear being reported to his superiors.

He can just. Be.

Just him and his free ice and his saved for free life.

That's. Sweet.

Blurr's drinking syrup again.

...and a little disgusting.

—————————-

Brawl jumps out of bed, hits his head on a shelf hanging on the wall and drops everything on it onto Blast Off's head

“Swindle!!!” yells Brawl.

“Why are these books sticky???” shrieks Blast Off.

“You don't wanna know~” giggles Vortex.

Swindle sighs.

“You're alive!!!” ignores Blast Off Brawl's complaints. And a second later runs up and pulls Swindle off the floor in a crushing bear hug.

Behind them, Blast Off, with his face wrinkled in disgust, gathers all the dropped books back onto the shelf.

Swindle wheezes pathetically and slaps Brawl's arm with his palm, either to reciprocate the gesture or to beg for mercy

“Br...khaaaaah...Brawl I can't breathh.”

“OH. I'm uh. Here. Wait.”

Brawl puts him back on the floor and runs back to the shelf.

Onslaught, who has peeked into the room, puts a hand on Swindle's shoulder

“You've been gone a long time. Boss said you tried to escape.”

His tone isn't judgmental. And not pressuring. Not even questioning, but Swindle knows Onslaught wants more information. Swindle clutches a piece of napkin with a phone number in his pocket and smiles weakly.

“I've found a...friend? I think?”

Onslaught nods. In a manner that only he knows how to do. Not giving an opinion, not encouraging or condemning. Just taking in the information. Swindle admires him for that.

Behind them, Brawl pulls some piece of paper out from under the books that have just been put away and drops them again

“FUCK!” yells Blast Off. Vortex just starts hooting like a hyena.

“Hey Swindle I found the calendar!” yells Brawl waving the paper.

Swindle frowns in surprise.

“It's a different calendar...”

“I found you a new one.” nods Brawl.

“...Why...is it...it's torn in half?”

“It had stupid flowers drawn on it, so I ripped them off. And I accidentally ripped off more than I needed.”

“Ah,” says Swindle, clutching the calendar, ”That's...Thanks. I forgive you for losing the previous one.”

Behind them, Blast Off is trying to strangle Vortex with a jacket.

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

Blurr waves his arms happily like a hyperactive windmill.

“Swindle!!!”

Swindle smiles and adjusts his glasses

“Your party can be seen from across city.”

“I know~~” primps Blurr “Are you hungry? There was a snack table around here somewhere.”

“I didn't bring any money.” lies Swindle.

“Hey man, it's a party. Help yourself, it's free.”

“Оh.” Swindle's mood instantly brightens. “All right, then.”

“You look terrible” Blurr decides to share.

Swindle, busy shoveling food into his pockets, nods.

“I've had a rough week. Actually, it'd be cool if you didn't tell anyone you saw me here. I'm kind of not supposed to be here.”

He doesn't elaborate.

Blurr is a civilian. In his mind, a rough week is rude people or an exam or bad weather. Swindle's bad week is strap marks on his wrists and double vision. It's nausea from injections and sleepless nights because Vortex won't stop screaming in his sleep.

Blurr doesn't know that. With him, Swindle can pretend to be somewhat normal.

-----------

“Heeeeey“ says Blurr ‘I haven't seen you in a long time~"

“That” thinks Swindle ”is a pretty standard phrase for both of them.

Blurr looks older. Taller too. He was taller than Swindle before, but now that difference is starting to look almost comical. He's also flaunting a cast on his arm.

“Did you get hurt?”

“Didn't make a turn at training” waves Blurr off “It's no big deal. Wanna go find something to eat?”

Blurr is always trying to feed him, Swindle notices over time. Offers him drinks or snacks or whatever.

“ I like your uh..cap?”

“I got a promotion” Swindle smiles proudly “Me and the guys were made a special group...actually you're not allowed to know more than that, so you'll have to take my word for it when I say we are officially cool.”

He purposely adjusts his cap by the brim so Blurr can get a good look at it.

Blurr makes a delighted sound. Something between a “wow” and a giggle. He generally makes a lot of sounds all the time. Tapping his fingers on every hard surface, stomping in place like he's always late for something, laughing, whistling, clicking his tongue. A human orchestra.

__________

Onslaught sits down next to Swindle and clutches his hands in his lap in front of him. This makes the bed legs squeak pitifully. Onslaught has grown surprisingly large. He can almost rival Brawl in height already. Most people find that intimidating, but Swindle just thinks Onslaught is like a wall. A big, solid concrete wall that's so good to hide behind.

“Be careful with what you tell this guy.”

“Don't worry” says Swindle ”He's not the type of friend you tell secrets to. He's just a fun dude who's great to hang out with.”

Onslaught hums.

“And who feeds you for free.”

“If that's how you're trying to ask me to share, you're not doing a very good job.”

Vortex snaps his fingers as he walks past them

“Hey Swindler, the lab is closed for today. It's your day off.”

“Wha...”

Onslaught tilts his head.

“Vortex. What did you do?”

“I spat in their dna sample vault” proudly proclaims Vortex “and didn't tell them exactly where.”

-----———————-

Blurr frowns.

“Hey...are you okay?”

“No” thinks Swindle.

“My friend died” he says instead.

He's not okay. He feels like an animal caught in a beartrap, trying to chew off its own paw to get free.

Except the trap is closed around Swindle's head and it's not a body part he can afford to lose.

There's been a lot of talk. Even more rumors. Swindle listened but tried not to believe.

And then one of pilots, Shockwave… was taken to the lab and brought back a different damn man and it felt like Swindle had the rug pulled out from under his feet with hot coals underneath.

Because Swindle's boss, with his stupid, rehearsed smile, started writing reports about how “human personality flaws are something that can be fixed. That challenging behavior is something that can be repaired with tools.

Blurr freezes.

“Who?”

“Vortex.”

Because of course it's Vortex. Talented but difficult to handle. Powerful but uncontrollable.

They wanted a pilot who would be a beast on the battlefield and a loyal dog on base. And who else would be a more ideal test subject than him?

Vortex was being very rude that day, even by Vortex standards. Yelling and swearing and throwing things around. Kept saying that no shitty lab could make him “a fucking puppet.”

Scratching the stitches on his head until he started leaving a trail of blood behind him.

He went on a mission.

And never came back.

The reports said it was all the monsters' fault. That Vortex was unstable. That the accident had nothing to do with the new technology. But it was nevertheless suspended.

Swindle is both bitter and amused by this. Vortex would eat the same monsters for breakfast any other day. The bastard was unkillable.

“Oh my god” says Blurr “I'm so sorry to hear that.”

He says something else. Probably comforting. About how Vortex died protecting people, maybe. About Vortex being a hero.

“Vortex,” thinks Swindle, ”loved life. He loved adrenaline and danger and pain and thrill and fear, but he never wanted to die. They did something to him. Something that made him go over the edge.”

Vortex got his head in the trap and ripped it off to escape it.

Swindle knows him and the others are next. And knows that no one but themselves can help them.

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

Blast Off seems...very quiet. He could never stop complaining about Vortex before. Yelling about the garbage. Resenting the unmade bed and the cigarette ashes.

Vortex's bed remains unmade.

Blast Off regularly cleans everything up, but never wipes away the little circles of ash from the places where Vortex used to put out cigarettes on the furniture.

Onslaught puts his hand on Swindle's shoulder and squeezes. Not hard. Just enough for Swindle to register the gesture as important.

Standing nearby, Blast Off lights a cigarette and leans on Onslaught.

“Ons told me about your plan. I want to join in.”

“What kind of plan? Can I get involved?” inquires Brawl.

Onslaught sighs.

“Repeat after me - I don't know, they don't tell me anything.”

“I don't know, they don't tell me anything.”

“Good job” nods Onslaught “From now on, every time they ask you any - listen. Any! Question about us, you will answer them with this phrase.”

“Got it,” grins Brawl.

Swindle smiles.

“Gentlemen, it's time to violate all that is written, and rewrite all that is violated.”

__________________

Blurr lazily takes his eyes off the phone. He's wearing a racing suit and tons of hairspray. He's shiny and gleaming like a fine collectible figurine that should be on the shelf of an expensive exhibit. He's also bored.

“Sorry buddy, the interview is long over, if you have any questions you'll have to pay for the session.”

Swindle smiles.

“How about one tiny little question?”

Blurr makes funny big eyes.

“SWINDLE!!! I haven't seen you in a thousand years! You...oh I didn't recognize you haha sorry. Nice coat. You quit being a pilot?”

Swindle proudly adjusts his glasses. He's wearing a brand-new, ironed shirt that's exactly his size. Nice neat tie, expensive coat. Swindle isn't surprised Blurr didn't recognize him immediately. Sometimes he looks in the mirror and doesn't recognize himself. After all those years of wearing the pilot's uniform, he felt almost attached to it. And yet here he is.

“You could say I moved.” he winks snarkily, “Up. All the Mechs you see on the streets now are my Mechs~”

Blurr completely forgets about his phone.

“REALLY?? Oh man congrats to you!”

“Thanks” nods Swindle ”You want something to drink? I'm buying.”

———————-

Onslaught adjusts his tie. It's still, years later, a little strange to see him in a uniform instead of a pilot's suit.

“You do realize it's going to be hard to find a person like that, right? We need someone famous enough to be effective and dumb enough to want to save mankind instead of sunbathing on a yacht.”

Swindle adjusts his glasses and leans back in his chair.

Someone outgoing so they can quickly befriend all the right people. Handsome enough to have their face printed on a poster. Smart just enough not to say too much. And not associated with Mecha program so they can't be accused of trying to get promoted through their acquaintances.

Someone who already has everything but still willing to put themselves at risk for the cause.

“You know, I think I have a possible candidate.”

[astracora]

Poly!LADs headcanons - because I'm a disaster human and they live rent free in my head.

Home Edition

Also includes the main mc I write with headcanons??? Canons????

Masterlist

Zayne is very clean, he tidies up as soon as he sees mess. Can't leave it for a second. (He also simply doesn't think to say to someone 'hey can you clean up x', he'll just go 'well I'm here' and tidy.)

Xavi will tidy but he'll normally have a set time in mind to do it, aka 'I'll do this in 10 minutes' except he means it. Which sometimes means Zayne gets to it quicker.

Raffy will fully forget the concept of tidying, everything becomes like his art studio. Will sometimes do 'I'll do this in 10 minutes' doesn't mean it.

Sylus is generally very tidy, will clean as he does anything, part of his 'leave nothing out as a weakness, remove traces of yourself as you move' energy, but it does make him easy to live with in regards to cleanliness.

MC is not tidy, they're chaotic and often forget where things are. They try to help manage the mess but often simply forget in the chaos of doing something. They just need a lil nudge and they'll go into cleaning mode and fix all the mess.

They all have jobs that tend to be 'theirs' though it's fluid depending on time restraints and current projects or life situations.

Raffy/Xavi are best at doing the grocery shopping. They're least bothered by crowded or loud places, and least likely to buy every sweet in the place. Raffy does do impulse purchases, but they generally take lists.

Xavier also takes care of the plants and the garden in the house. (Everyone likes checking in on the garden though.)

Sylus/Raffy are the best at cooking. Sylus cooks primarily as long as he has the time (tries to make it as much as he can), and Raffy cooks the best fish you'll ever eat in your life.

They will sometimes also supervise Xavier's cooking but with him it's a two man job of not letting the kitchen burn down. (Sylus doesn't want to replace another kitchen.)

Zayne is king of tidying, he doesn't do it all himself, and everyone tries to make sure they pick up their weight esp when he's very busy, but the man has systems upon systems.

MC does a bit of everything, they're not as patient with cooking, but enjoy baking a lot. Primarily they help stay on top of laundry, dishes and are co-captain to Zayne's cleaning frenzies.

They all have their at least one of their own specific rooms in the house, either specialised for their work, or just a specific place for them to destress if they want alone time.

Zayne: has his office.

Raffy: has an art room, he also kept his studio for anything he's keeping secret from the others (an art project) or for bigger pieces that he needs more space than the house can provide.

Sylus: has a music room, it's decorated with records and various instruments. Of course he keeps all his bases, home is home, work is work.

Xavier: he set up a planetarium in a nap room, just incase he gets home really late and needs to sleep but is worried about disturbing someone.

MC: has a room decked out in just every single collectible they've ever hoarded ever.

Raffy technically has the most 'normal' sleep schedule, awake in the day, asleep at night, except he also doesn't sleep when he's working on a painting, so it often goes out of the window.

Zayne has a sleep schedule which is normally he's awake in the day, asleep at night, but he's also a doctor so he works whenever he needs to, and this can often mean night shifts, very long shifts with on call sleep room visits, or simply his normal nightmare-based insomnia.

Sylus is awake at night and asleep during the day mostly, has a fairly reliable schedule in terms of active time, but he's a busy man who does a lot of work travel. So might not be at home very often because of that. While he pretty much sleeps exclusively in the day, if he's around and someone really wants company, he's happy to join them in bed. He's also always willing to be out in the day if someone asks for his presence for something.

Xavier sleeps whenever he's tired, he's a working hunter which means he's awake when he's needed for a mission, and he works at night as Lumiere, so he has absolutely zero schedule. He and Sylus are normally the ones who take naps together because of this.

MC's life schedule is very reliable, they work in the day or whenever they have a mission, but primarily they sleep at night. That said they have insomnia and they also suffer from frequent nightmares due to their history, because of this, they will take naps when they can, and will often be awake until the early hours of the morning unable to sleep properly.

[positivementalaxolotl]

I want to be clear here that sometimes cats that are suppose to be indoor cats escape the house. I have had this issue before *We have broken windows, and he likes to dash out when people crack the doors open. He also knows how to open certain doors and windows as well*

There was a point in time where someone found my cat, and just took him. They drove him out 3O+ minutes away to their house. The only reason why we were able to get him back was because 2 of this persons friends were walking by one of my posters I posted outside my house on a sign. On my way back from posting other missing posters, I saw them and we had a pleasant conversation about him and getting him back. I am not mad or anything about them taking my cat back to this strangers house, I am actually very thankful that had he not been brought back to me, that he would have had another loving home to go to.

Every time I have gone online to try to find my cat on one of the MANY times he has escaped my house, people have assumed that he was an outdoor cat, even when in the same listings I very specifically state that he escaped and is an indoor cat. I have been yelled at, I have been lectured, I have had strangers come to my house and yell at me about how I must not *really* love my cat, and then had people online tell me I am entitled because I do not want strangers to come to my house and yell at me. This is a combination of because of people choosing not to read the posts they are seeing, people thinking that this kind of behaviour in any context is okay, and people being horrible to those in poverty.

I have had people recommend a *low cost* vet that was almost an hour away, and cost more than a vet that I could walk to and from if need be. And then promptly scream at me because I had just lost my job and could not get my cat to the vet that same day to take care of his neuter.

I am VEHEMENTLY against outdoor cats. Not only is it god awful for the cats involved, but its an environmental issue as well. Both of my cats are indoor cats, one of them just has not been neutered yet and likes to run outside the moment hes able to when its warm outside. I know the risks of him being outside. I am fully aware. I am lucky enough to be in a relatively safe area where my cat feels safe enough around the wildlife to use the deer as protection against me. He DOES also always come back within 12 to 24 hours after leaving. The only times he has not was when he was taken by a person, or when it was raining outside, and usually he will hide nearby if that is the case. He does go over to other peoples houses, but its not a thing where he spends more and more time there. He just likes to explore and get the girls.

The point of what I am saying here is that if you want your cat to be a fully or near fully indoor cat, just keeping them inside isnt enough. My boy nearly crushed himself shoving an air conditioner out the window to escape. The BEST thing you can do for any cat to make sure they stay in your area is to NEUTER them. That way they are less likely to run off, and if they do, then they are less likely to travel far or get into fights with other cats. If you see an intact cat outside, yeah it may be a stray. But it is ALWAYS best to make sure that it does not belong to someone who is trying to keep them indoors. If you find the owners keep them outside, then... Cat distribution system. The only cats I would say should stay outside are feral cats, or cats that were raised outdoors and strongly do not do well indoors, but have a safe place to stay outdoors.

*I am planning on getting him taken care of here soon I just need to make everything work first*

I can think of a really easy solution to this problem.

[aimfor-theheart]

oh cielo!! happy new year!! i'm so glad we've met in this vast internet space and i'm sending you so much love for the coming year as well 💕 if you're still playing, how about fake dating with vi?

FUJI BELOVEDDD!!!! i am also so glad that we've met on this strange internet space and i am sending you so much love and joy and success this 2025!! 💗

i am still playing and i have been waiting all day to sit down and write this one. was SO EXCITED to see this ask...thank u for giving me the opportunity to write about vi 💗

fake dating au + vi

Someone's following you. Their footsteps echo behind you, reverberating around inside your head. You're keen, ears pricked, as you glance half behind your shoulder.

Their shadow in the fog is a ghost that's been haunting you.

Your heart ticks up, your steps lurch; you move a little faster.

Vi should be close—

The footsteps quicken. So do you.

You round the corner and yelp when you crash into a solid form.

Hands on you, wide and warm, steadying you. Eyes like a crystal sky finding yours. "You alright?" Vi asks and your heart swells, relief floods you.

You glance behind you and perceptive and sharp as always, Vi peers into the city smog, too. She sees the shape of someone and knows. Knows danger. Knows who it might be. Her body tenses, hackles rising.

Then her demeanor shifts.

"Been lookin' for you everywhere, princess." And suddenly her arm is around you, pulling you into her. She's warm and solid and you can feel the press of your bodies together, the way you fit together. You try not to startle or pull away.

Your cheeks warm. Vi is your bodyguard assigned to you after this stalking started, not—

You swallow hard, uncertain. "Um—Vi?"

Under her breath, she says, "just play along."

And with that, she sweeps you away, tucked under her arm. The night is brisk and damp, but Vi's body, shrouding yours, keeps out the chill. You walk in step. Your follower perseveres.

As you near your safe house, you watch Vi's mind work.

Between one breath and the next, you're pressed up a back alley wall. And Vi's pressing you there, against you, her hands on your waist.

"We need to ditch him before we reach the safe house." She says lowly, lowering her face towards you. "Just—follow my lead."

As the footsteps approach, Vi dips her face to the crook of your neck. Warmth floods your system and instinctively, you grab for her, fisting one hand in the front of her shirt, the other looping around her shoulders.

You must look like lovers. It strikes you like lightning.

And when the footsteps round the corner, Vi suddenly grabs your chin in hand, and kisses you soundly on the mouth.

You make a noise of surprise, which she swallows. And you think she's only going to stay like this, unmoving and kissing you for appearances, but she suddenly deepens it.

Her tongue presses along your bottom lip and you part for her, almost out of surprise, which she takes advantage of eagerly. With your alarm, mingles a strange glow and flutter of desire. You feel it, tender and terrified, in the pit of your stomach. It spreads it's wings.

Your hand disappears into the hair at the nape of her neck and she gets a thigh between your legs. You gasp.

When she hears your follower near, she pulls away—lips spit slick and chest heaving a little, hair tousled, eyes fever bright—and rounds on him.

The man startles.

And Vi plays sleazy well when she swipes at her bottom lip with her thumb. Gone is your dedicated bodyguard, replaced with a heated fling you may have.

She asks, "You got a problem?" And now she sizes him up. Squares her shoulders. "Can't we get a little privacy?"

He falters, uncertain, eyes bouncing to you and then Vi.

"Fuck off," Vi snaps, "and get lost before I do something I regret."

He scurries away and the moment he's far enough away, Vi is reaching for your hand, engulfing it with hers. "Come on, we gotta go—" and she pulls you along, as if she hadn't just kissed you senseless moments ago, and you disappear down the maze of alleyways with her.

"Nice acting," she smirks, "who knew you had it in you?"

Send me a trope/gennre + a character and I'll write a drabble for it!

[ihazyourkitty]

I really try to avoid fact checking people in public comment sections on the internet, but sadly this time I couldn't resist.

There was a reel on Facebook explaining the "sad" reason why cetaceans in human care often receive ice. It's because they're given "dead fish" you see, and these frozen thawed fish contain less moisture than the live fish they eat in the wild, so the ice helps prevent dehydration.

First of all, this is half true. The other half is that many cetaceans just love getting ice.

Supplemental hydration can also include gelatin and squid. The latter two are not unique to cetaceans btw. Squid and specially formulated gelatin based foods are also used in many fish diets in part to provide additional moisture. They also count as enrichment, depending on the context.

In any event, this creator thinks it's sad... that caretakers are providing their dolphins additional hydration? What, does he also think it's sad that they get vitamins? Reptile keepers regularly dust their animals' food with calcium to make sure they don't get metabolic bone disease. Is that also sad? These things are standard zoological practices, not signs of neglect. Wouldn't it be sadder if they didn't do that?

(Reason #423 why framing matters).

"But it's not natural!"

Neither is running on a treadmill, but that doesn't mean it's bad for you. Also, I'm pretty sure ICE is one of the most natural things you could use....

"Well why can't they just give them live fish!?"

Because the logistics of sustaining a live colony for such a purpose would be an expensive nightmare. Do you know how many pounds of fish these animals need to eat in a day? Using them as an occasional form of enrichment might be feasible, but on the regular? Just. No! Tell me you don't know how fish care works without telling me you don't know how fish care works!

It's cruel to the fish, for the same reason that it's cruel to feed snakes live food (assuming they aren't picky eaters). Fish are not just props, they are live animals that can experience stress and pain!

Freezing the fish helps keep it safe to eat.

"Why not just release them back into the wild?"

Because that would also be cruel since they wouldn't know how to survive. Next question.

"How do they get dehydrated when they live in water!?"

Oh man. Oh man oh man.

Cetaceans get most of their hydration from their diet. A quick google search indicted that they can drink some salt water, though I don't know how true that is, and to be clear, their kidneys are likely much more efficient at filtering out salt than ours (someone who knows more about this, please feel free to correct me). Regardless, most of their hydration comes from their food. Lack of food leads to dehydration, both in captivity and in the wild.

But there was one guy who said that dolphins in captivity can't drink the water because it's chlorinated. This is not true. The residual amounts of chlorine left after their water passes through filtration is no higher than what is in your tap water.

(Btw, this is another reason why live fish aren't typically used, because you don't house fish in systems that use chlorine, even in small amounts).

When I pointed this out to the guy, his response was that "most of their diet contains water from the exact same source."

To his credit, he did back down when I pointed out that this was wrong. But come my friends! As a fish person, let me explain to you why this is not correct!

Fish blood chemistry is not the same as the ambient water around them. They would not be able to maintain homeostasis otherwise. You see, their gills and kidneys help them osmoregulate.

Freshwater fish blood contains more salts than the surrounding freshwater, which means the via osmosis, water will enter the body, and unless they can compensate for this, the fish will swell up like a balloon, lose necessary salts, and basically drown. So what do they do? Their kidneys produce large amounts of dilute urine get rid of this extra water. Meanwhile, chloride cells in their gills take up ions from the water to transport into their blood.

Saltwater fish, however, have the opposite problem. Their blood has less salts than the surrounding water, so they need to get rid of extra salt. How? Well, they actually do drink the saltwater, and then their kidneys help filter out the extra salt. They basically produce very concentrated urine. But the kidneys cannot do this alone, so the chloride cells in their gills also help by basically working in reverse. They move extra ions out of the blood.

Elasmobranchs, crustaceans, mollusks and other marine mammals that may also make up some cetacean diets will have their own methods of osmoregulation.

All of this is to say, no, eating saltwater animals does not mean you're literally consuming ocean water, as these organisms have specific mechanisms for filtering out the excess salts.

This is, btw, why you can't just put a freshwater fish in saltwater or vice versa. They will die. Nor is this unique to fish, most organisms adapted for one environment don't thrive in the other.* Case in point: we cannot drink salt water, because our kidneys cannot handle that.

But some animals can! Take the salmon for instance. They hatch in freshwater environments, then move to saltwater, and then back when spawning season comes. How do they do this? Well, there are specific environmental/developmental triggers that cause their bodies to start osmoregulating in reverse. This does not happen instantaneously, however. They need time to adjust. They will migrate to brackish water, and allow their bodies a few days to adjust before continuing.

Some species of fish have higher tolerances for wider ranges of salinity/total dissolved solids (TDS) than others. Fluctuating these levels can actually trigger spawning in some species too! Discus, for instance, can be maintained in relatively harder freshwater than what they'd experience in the wild. But for breeding purposes, it's recommended to use softer water with lower a TDS. Given that discus can be more finicky, however, any of these adjustments should be made gradually.

On the other hand, there might be another species where a more sudden change is beneficial. Tropical fish native to floodplains that will experience sudden onsets of flooding from the rainy season, for instance, may need precisely that sudden rush of freshwater with lower pH and TDS to trigger spawning. Even if spawning isn't the end goal, simulating these seasonal fluctuations can be a very effective form of naturalistic enrichment!

....Oh dear, I went on a very nerdy tangent, because SCIENCE!!!! Enjoy.

*this can actually be taken advantage of in certain treatment contexts! Saltwater aquarists will sometimes do what is called a "freshwater dip", where the saltwater fish is very briefly immersed in freshwater to help rid them of harmful external parasites or bacteria. Usually, it's used when fish are first brought into quarantine. It's not 100% effective on its own, but it's one of the many tools in an aquarist's arsenal. Oh! This can also be used on sea turtles in some rescue situations! Again... SCIENCE!!! >:D

[mermaidgirl30]

✨Saving What Was Lost Part 6: New Introductions with a Cup of Hot Chocolate✨

Pre-Outbreak! Joel Miller x fem! reader

Series Masterlist

A/N: The frequent need to write about these two is always sitting in the back of my mind. The slow burn is burning, friends 🥹 I have so much more left for these two, so this is a little New Year’s present because the writing bug hit me this week. I hope you enjoy 🩷

Chapter Summary: An unexpected guest appears in Joel’s front door, but it’s not just any guest. It’s his daughter Sarah, and he wants you to meet her.

Rating: 18+ only MDNI

Word Count: 6.8k

Chapter Tags: Fluff, angst, meeting Sarah, soft! Joel, age gap (reader is late 20’s and Joel is late 40’s), slow burn, mentions of being trafficked, hurt Joel, yearning, so much yearning

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

  November autumn leaves fall from the oak and maple trees outside the view of the floor to ceiling windows, stacking vivid piles of bright orange and dark red colors across the front lawn. Whiffs of pine and cinnamon permeate through the house, creating the perfect atmosphere to read by the crackling fireplace in the living room. 

   That’s what you spend most of your time doing these days. Reading anything and everything you can get your hands on. Joel has hundreds of books scattered around his house, so you don’t have to go far to find something you want. 

   You love the afternoons. Love being in the comfort of a home where you feel warm and relaxed. Where you feel… safe. Yes, safe. Joel does that. Makes you feel like you’re in the presence of a knight in shining armor. You guess that’s what he is to you. Your savior. But mostly, you love afternoons because that means he’s here, and he’s choosing to spend his time with you. 

   The other night when he watched Gone with the Wind with you was the first time you actually had fun in a long, long time. And he made sure you were comfortable and taken care of, made sure you got to bed okay. But the one thing that burns like flickers of embers in your brain is the moment he picked you up and took you upstairs. 

   He was so… careful. Gentle, even. You latched on so tight to him that he had to pry your fingers from his flannel. He tucked you in, that much you remember. But also, you vaguely remember the faint brush of his fingers on your cheek, a lock of hair pushed behind your ear, and whispered words of affirmation. 

   Beautiful. He called you beautiful. Even if you were falling in and out of sleep, you still heard his slow drawl float through your ears, and you’re still blushing from the electric moment. He doesn’t need to know you heard it. You’ll just keep it tucked away in your locket, save it for a rainy day when you can repeat it a thousand times in your mind. Maybe one day he’ll say it again. Or maybe, one day you’ll be strong enough to look him in the eyes and tell him exactly how he makes you feel. Safe, beautiful, whole, seen. 

   Thumbing through the colorful bookcase, you slip a book out and start scanning the back. Just when you start to flip the front page, the click of the front door opens, and then you hear voices. Joel’s and someone you don’t recognize. Pressing the book against your chest to hug away the anxiety that’s building in your system, you pause when in comes Joel with a girl with big doe eyes and long strands of curly dark hair. You take a good, long look, your brain suddenly registering who she is. 

   Sarah. 

   You drop the book from your arms and it goes tumbling to the floor, your mouth parted open in mere shock as you register the situation. 

   Joel steps forward, enough to feel the heat from his body against yours, his arm placed gently around Sarah’s back, pushing her forward to present to you. He clears his throat and smiles. “Have someone I’d like to introduce you to, sweetheart.” He flicks his brown eyes to you and then back to Sarah as she stands gleaming in the sunlight with a bright smile. “This is Sarah, my daughter.” And then he says your name, introducing you the same. 

   You stand there lock-jawed, eyes wide, arms down at your sides, your mouth parched of words as you take her in. Big smile, as kind as her brown eyes. Eyes like Joel’s. She has a light dusting of freckles across her nose, cheeks warm and pink. She looks so kind. Kind like Joel, you think. 

   She says your name brightly and flashes you a genuine smile. “It’s so good to finally meet you! I’ve heard so much.” Before you register what happens, she’s throwing her arms around your back and pulling you in for a tight embrace. 

   Your eyes widen in confusion, mouth hanging open as she squeezes you tighter with your arms still draped to the sides of your body. It’s like you’re a long-distance cousin she hasn’t seen in years, but you’ve never met her in your life. But you think it’s okay because she’s a survivor like you, and you feel like you do know her. Joel’s told you so much. 

   Briefly flicking your eyes up, Joel chuckles under his breath from the foyer and gives you an encouraging smile, his eyes sparkling with glee as he takes in the sight of his sweet daughter pulling you in for a hug. 

   As if he’s encouraging you, you cautiously snake your arms around her back and hug her right back, embracing her like a sister that got lost along the way of the kidnapping. And when you finally breathe in her strawberry scent, you hold her tighter for just a few seconds knowing that she had everything stripped from her years ago too. 

   When you release your arms from her, Joel gives you a small smile and slowly retreats back from the room. “I’ll get out of your hair, let you two talk.” And then he’s disappearing around the corner, leaving you alone with Sarah. 

   “You want to go out on the back porch?” Sarah asks brightly, brown eyes as big as the moon. 

   You give her a shy smile and hesitate because you’ve never actually been out there before. You kind of just locked yourself in the house, afraid to venture far from closed doors and warm air. Afraid to go far because you’re still scared. Scared someone could take you away from Joel again… “Umm, sure. I’ve never really been out there before.”

   “You’ve never been out back?” she asks, shocked, jaw dropping like you just said you’ve never seen colors before.

   You shrug meekly and say, “Kinda keep tucked away in the house.”

   Registering your answer, she closes her lips and nods. “I understand. It’s nice and cozy in here, but come on. You’ll love it.”

   She tugs your wrist and pulls you along with her toward the back glass door, only stopping momentarily to pick up two fleece blankets from a little basket tucked next to the fireplace. Handing you one before she slides the door open, she encourages you forward.

   When you step out onto the wooden back porch, your jaw drops as you take in the beautiful view. Acres upon green acres expand over the horizon. A small pond that glistens in the sunlight sits a couple miles out. A flock of birds soar in the blue sky, only disappearing behind some forming grey clouds in the near distance. And the trees… so many tall, green, large scatters of them expand over the open land. It’s almost like home…

   “Whoa. This is…” You pause, mouth suddenly dry as you join Sarah on the porch swing, eyes still roving across the beautiful view. How did you not know this was out here all this time? 

   “Pretty great, right? Dad owns all this. All the way back behind that line of thick trees.”

   You scan the horizon, but you don’t see an end anywhere in sight. He must own hundreds of acres. 

   Taking a deep breath, you part your lips and smile, pulling the blanket up over your lap to dissipate some of the November chill. “I’ve been kind of a recluse since I’ve been here. I just can’t believe I missed this. It’s beautiful…” And it is. Breathtaking, actually. It kind of takes the ache away, fills you with a little happiness that replaces all the bad things that have happened to you over the past couple of years. 

   “That’s okay,” she smiles encouragingly. “You’re seeing it now.”

   You take another moment to soak it all in. The crisp smell of autumn, the yellow and red tinted leaves that blend in with the deep greens, the open land that’s filled with picturesque views that you swore would never be in Texas. But this? This is as close to home as you’ve felt for a long time. 

   Sarah’s warm voice pulls you back to the present. “Dad’s told me a lot about you.”

   You turn your head, eyes a little weary. He’s told her about you? “Really?” you ask, taken aback.

   “Mhm,” she hums out with a smile plastered on her glossy lips. 

   “Nothing bad I hope,” you breathe out.

   She shakes her head, curls bouncing with the movement. “Oh, no. Only good things. He really likes your company.”

   He likes your company? 

   You smile to yourself, feeling a blush set in on your cheeks as the cool air blows against your skin. He likes your company… “Well, I like his too.” But really, you mean to say you just like him. More than his company. You like being in his space, nuzzling into his soft flannels that smell like him—Pinewoods, mahogany, and a hint of black coffee. You like talking to him, watching his dimples cave into his tanned cheeks when he’s smiling. You just like him. All of him. You like everything about him. Especially how kind and soft he is with you. You like it all. And that scares you a little, but you shouldn’t be because he makes you feel so safe. 

   Yes, safe.

   She pulls her knees up to her chest, hugging them to her pink hoodie, the blanket loosely draped across her shoulders, and then she takes a good look at you, like she’s doing a deep dive into your mind. “How are you doing, really?”

   You let the question simmer, let it bubble inside you as you contemplate exactly what you’ll say. How are you really feeling? Drained, worn down, discarded, hurt. But there’s a chip inside you, one that’s filled with a little warmth, a little healing. A part of you is being stitched back together. One thread at a time. And it’s not because you’re away from that awful house, away from their clawing hands and sharp commands. You think maybe, just maybe, Joel’s healing a teeny tiny part of you. Inside and out. He’s making you whole again. Even in the short amount of time you’ve been here, you think he’s making you brand new. 

   He’s making you feel not so alone. He’s making you feel safe, wanted. He’s giving you wings…

   “I’m hanging in there,” you say quietly, fingers brushing lightly over the fleece blanket. ”Kinda just taking it one day at a time.”

   “It’s been a little over a month now, yeah?” she questions, tilting her head as her brown eyes glisten through the clouds now hanging over the covered porch.

   “Yeah, that’s right,” you nod, eyes wandering back to the big, open field. You could get lost in those sea of trees. Run, disappear forever. But you don’t think you want to anymore. At least, not right now. 

   “How long were you gone for?”

   You fiddle with your bottom lip, wincing at the lost time that’s gone by. “Almost two years. Seems more like ten, if I’m being honest. Time seems to blur together when you’re… Well, when you don’t know if you’ll make it through the night.” 

   A lump forms in the back of your throat, making your eyes a little blurry from the thought of being gone for so long. How had you managed to survive all those days of abuse and torment? How’d you ever get saved by the likes of someone like Joel? Warm, kind, safe. 

   She twirls a strand of her dark curls around her index finger, eyeing you with big sad eyes that make you want to choke out a sob, but you don’t. “I wasn’t gone nearly as long as you. And I can’t imagine what you went through. Two years, that’s… God. I’m so sorry.” Regret fills her eyes, and then she places a hand softly on your shoulder, saying just as much in her touch. 

   “Yeah, I am too,” you say a little dazed as her hand slips away from you, back into her lap.

   You mull over what you’ll say next while your emotions are running rampant. You feel everything all over again. The fear, the blinding pain, the inconsolable ache in your bones that won’t go away. You’ve been scared for so long, so how are you supposed to navigate your way through life again? How are you supposed to go on when the weight of the world rests like cement on your chest?

   Turning your head toward her slowly, you ask something that’s been bothering you. “How do you do it?”

   “Do what?” she questions; her tone gentle and patient.

   “Keep living a normal life,” you whisper, letting your words float across the frigid air, right back to Sarah.

   She shifts in her seat and takes a beat before answering, her voice calm and collected. “I wouldn’t exactly call my life normal. It’s gotten almost to that point, but there’s still days I can hardly get out of bed, nonetheless eat. But my boyfriend, Ryan, helps me when it gets like that. Or I talk to Tess. Have you seen her yet?”

   Tess. That’s right. You forgot about Tess.

   You shake your head. “Not yet.” But you’d really like to.

   “She’s great. She’s really helped. Even my dad sees her sometimes.”

   “Your dad sees her?” you ask, tilting your head slightly.

   She nods. “Yeah, she’s actually helped him a lot too with everything. Especially with his line of work. He really needs someone to lean on on the hard days, you know?”

   You let your mind settle on her words, your thoughts turning back and forth over the endless images of Joel’s sleepless nights. The deep shadows under his chocolate eyes. The restless image of him hunched over a laptop with his fingers lacing frustratedly through his dark locks. The late night runs he has to do periodically. The stressful calls he takes right when he’s about to head to bed. The times he’s not home when it’s three in the morning. The pacing back and forth he does when Tommy’s talking to him about a job. But there’s one thing you don’t ever miss. The pain that flares behind his brown irises, blending in with the inky flecks that remind you of dark chocolate. 

   Something hurt him. Something continues to hurt him, and you don’t even know what that something is.

   Jesus. You don’t even know half of what Joel goes through, but you think he might need someone just as badly as you do. Maybe, just maybe, you can be that something he needs because he’s that to you. He’s your foundation when you had nothing.

   “Your dad, what he does, he’s helped so many girls…” you murmur, your voice caught in your throat as you think about everything he’s done specifically for you. But really, it just takes a toll on you thinking of everyone he has saved. He’s… incredible. 

   She smiles, her cheeks bright from the crisp air. “He’s saved countless lives. And for that, I really couldn’t ask for a better dad.”

   No. She really couldn’t. He is the best dad, and she’s so lucky to have him.

   After a moment of silence passes, she speaks again. “He seems happier lately.”

   Your eyes flick over to hers while your heart does a somersault in your chest. “Really?”

   “Yeah,” she smiles gently. 

   “What makes you say that?” The knot tightens in your stomach, and maybe you’re a little scared of the answer. Was it… was he happier because you were here? No, that couldn’t be possible, could it? 

   “I don’t know,” she laughs, shrugging casually as her hair tumbles past her shoulders. “He just seems lighter, maybe a little brighter. His eyes, they’re a little clearer. I think… I think ever since you came here. Yeah, that’s when I noticed the change.”

   Your eyes widen, lips part in awe. Did she just say… No. You must’ve heard wrong.

   “Me? But I…”

   She stops you mid-sentence and smiles. “He likes your company, like I said. I can tell. He’s never been… Well, he hasn’t been happy in a while. It’s nice to see him smiling for a change.”

   You bite your bottom lip out of habit and curl your fingers into the fleece of the blanket, tossing ideas back and forth in your mind. Maybe he has been smiling more lately. Like on movie night. You’ve never seen him laugh so carefree before. He did seem happier. A little more teasing, maybe even playful in a way. You wanted to see more of that. Carefree Joel is heart stopping.

   “And you think I’m the reason he seems happier?” you laugh, a pang of disbelief flowing through your body. Could you really be the reason he was happier? 

   “I really do,” she confirms with the imprint of a dimple in her cheek, solidifying the question. 

   You’re the reason he’s happier… 

   “Hey, umm. I just wanted to say you can reach out to me anytime. I’m always available if you need a friend,” she smiles, her eyes sincere and warm. “And just know that you’re a survivor. You’re a strong one, and there’s nothing you can’t overcome. Never give up. Keep fighting the long fight. You’ve got this. I believe in you, my dad believes in you, Tommy does too.”

   They believe in you. Joel believes in you. And that in itself means so much to you…

   “Thanks, Sarah. I’m so glad I got to meet you.” A tear forms in the corner of your eye, but you brush it off just as Sarah squeezes your knee in encouragement. 

   Before you can say another word, you hear a shuffling noise by the door. “Hope I didn’t intrude on anything.” Joel slides the glass door open, balancing mugs with two hands and one braced against his flexed arm, making you almost lose your balance at the sight of him. Tall, fitted blue flannel around his muscular arms, slicked back hair with silver streaks glistening even under the cover of a grey cloud. So handsome, so put together, so…

   “Oh, no. Not at all, Dad!” Sarah chimes in, giddy as she reaches for the pink tinted mug in his firm grasp.

   “Thought I’d whip up some hot chocolate for you two. It’s a bit chilly out here. Don’t want ya to catch a cold. Plus, I know how much you like my homemade recipe, Sarah.” He smiles as she takes a big gulp, groaning when she swallows the first taste.

   “Yes! I knew you’d make me your famous hot chocolate. Thanks, Dad. You’re the best.” She throws him a toothy grin and settles back against the swing, kicking her legs carefree while she indulges in the warm hot chocolate, eager for you to try a taste yourself.

   “Here ya go, sweetheart. Reckon you like hot chocolate.” He smiles, reaching his arm out, offering you a warm mug with swirls of steam billowing out the top.

   “Yes.” You extend your arm, palm open with an invitation. And when he slides the cup into your hand, his calloused fingers brush against yours, causing goosebumps to rise on your shivering skin. You gasp, feeling how warm and welcoming his hand feels against yours, but it’s only there a second, the next he’s whisking his arm back to his side. You already miss it—his hand sliding against yours implicitly. 

   Physical contact is not in your book of things that make you feel good anymore. But with Joel? It feels more than right. It feels… perfect. Like his hand was made to brush against yours. Or maybe it was made so he could intertwine his fingers with yours, thread them together like your stitched-up heart. You think you’d like that. One day. And maybe he would too.

   “Put some extra whipped cream and marshmallows in jus’ for you. Know how much you like everything extra sweet.” He gives you a gut-wrenching smile. One that could bring you to your knees. Especially once that dimple forms on the middle of his cheek. 

   God. What did you ever do to be worthy of looking at that angelic face? Carved to perfection, tanned, smooth like his tousled curls. And his eyes. Big pools of warmth that instantly make my insides all fuzzy and warm. 

   “Thanks, Joel. You didn’t have to go through all that extra trouble though,” you smile bashfully, still trying to get a grip on this reality.

   “‘Course I did. You’re worth the extra mile.”

   Your mouth parts at the words. You’re worth the extra mile. Sarah giggles under her breath, but she keeps to herself. But you can’t help but notice her eyes keep roaming from Joel and then back to you. She must see it. See just how much we affect each other. Just one look and you’re melted butter. It just takes one glance from those big brown eyes until you’re nothing but dust in the wind. 

   “Dad makes the best hot chocolate!” She brags, taking another sip of her steaming hot chocolate. “Don’t for a second let him tell you it’s nothing special.”

   But it is special. Every single particle of him is special. How’d you ever get so lucky to be sitting here on his porch, drinking his hot chocolate that he made specially just for you? 

   “You know,” he drawls. “Thanksgiving’s next Thursday.”

   Thanksgiving? How had you forgotten it was Thanksgiving? To be fair, you weren’t really in the mindset to think about holidays. You overlooked Halloween already, what used to be your favorite. 

   “Already?” you laugh uneasily, afraid he’ll be upset you forgot.

   “Sure is,” he chuckles back, but he gives you an encouraging smile, saying you’re just fine. 

   “Dad makes the best cherry pie you’ve ever tasted! I’m so excited,” Sarah squeals excitedly beside you. “Well, I guess everything he makes is the best, but this is to die for!” 

   “Oh?” you ask while Joel nods shyly. “What about blueberry pie?”

   He tilts his head and looks at you a beat before he says, “I can make that, but only if you help me.”

   “You want me to… help you?” you gawk, mouth parted in surprise. You’re not a cook, never really been one in the first place. Do you even remember how to do anything? 

   No… you really don’t.

   He nods as he takes a sip of his warm coffee, brown eyes locked on yours. “Can’t do it without you. Take it or leave it, sweetheart.”

   He’s not making this easy, is he? 

   “Okay,” you break after a beat. “You’ll just have to guide me. I’m not the best at baking.”

   “Well, I’ll jus’ have to teach ya then,” he smirks, sending a wink your way and making you blush all over again.

   “Perfect,” Sarah giggles, like she knows something we don’t. But she’s been watching us like a hawk; silently tapping her talons and sharpening her ears. Maybe she sees the chemistry swirling between us like the smoky fog hovering over the glassy lake. If she does, the only thing that gives her away is her sneaky smile and bright eyes flicking between us.   

   He shakes his head and chuckles under his breath while he leans against the wooden porch fence. One elbow propped lazily up on the edge, his other hand flexed around his royal-blue coffee mug. You follow the map of lines on his forehead, memorizing every crevice, every wrinkle like the constellations in the sky. 

   He catches you staring, which makes you look down, a deep blush burning in your cheeks. But when you look back up, he’s still watching you. Almost like he’s memorizing your face just the same. 

   Soft. His eyes are so soft. Warm, big, his brown irises full of promises of something. It makes your breathing hitch, makes you a little off center. But yet, he keeps watching like he can’t quite believe you’re there, sitting right in front of him too. 

   And it stays just like that until Sarah starts up the conversation again. But he still doesn’t take his eyes off you. It’s almost like he’s just as mesmerized as he makes you feel. 

   There’s a spark, a lapse in time where fireworks go off somewhere in the far distance. You can almost hear the sizzling and booms as they light in the sky. But instead, you hear Joel’s name whooshing around your mind, lighting you up a variety of colors. He painted you a multitude of shades and brought life back in your eyes when all you could see was black and white before. 

   You’ve never seen such pretty shades of brown before until you looked up and saw his eyes. You think he lit you up the very moment you became his that night he saved you…

   “Joel?” you call, a few minutes later when the only sound is the faint rustle of leaves in the distance.

   He turns his head toward you, coffee cup snug in his big hand. “Yeah, sweetheart?”

   You hesitate a second, looking from Sarah and then back to Joel. Yes. You think it’s time. “I think… I think I’m ready to talk to Tess.”

   His brown eyes light up like Christmas lights, a soft smile splaying across his lips which nearly takes your breath away. And the way he’s looking at you? All soft and warm. Well, you think you’ve just fallen all over. “Why don’t you give her a call this week? I’m sure she’d be happy to get you in soon. In fact, I’ll drive you to your appointment. Whenever you’re ready, you can count on me.”

   You can count on me. He’s so reliable, so sweet, so genuinely caring. It makes a smile crack over your lips, makes another wave of warmth rush through your chest, filling you up with sunshine and the hot chocolate he made for you. With extra sugar, you can’t forget that part. 

   When Sarah congratulates you on taking that step forward, Joel can’t help but to smile even bigger and brighter. He even goes so far as mouthing the words “I’m so proud of you” to you through the air. Even though you didn’t hear them, you swear you can taste them as they simmer through the chilly air, along with his thick Southern drawl. 

   And just like that, you’re falling through cloudless skies, crashing down to earth. But you don’t have to be afraid anymore of dying because he’ll be right there waiting to catch you. 

   Later, when Sarah’s gone for the night, you’re wrapped up in your favorite fluffy blanket, knees tucked up underneath you while you silently read under the bright lamp. The fireplace crackles in the corner, making for the perfect night to read in the living room. But this is kind of a ritual now, a normal routine you’ve slipped comfortably into. 

   And then there’s Joel—the man who completes these relaxing nights. He’s here. Right where you need him. He’s perched on the leather couch, his guitar between his legs, gently taking a rag and dusting off the smooth wood, carefully cleaning each string with rapt attention. It’s a little distracting you think—watching his hands slide over the instrument, oh-so-carefully polishing and refining something that seems like it means the world to him. 

   To be honest, this is the first time he’s actually taken the acoustic guitar out of the reading room. He’s never really talked about it before. Which means, it’s something he hides deep inside his chest, careful not to show emotion when he glides over the colorful moth that’s etched in the wood. You think it means a great deal to him, whatever it symbolizes. 

   Putting the book down on your lap, you sit up straighter and muster enough courage to call his name. “Joel?”

   He looks up, his brown eyes crinkling in the corners when he focuses on you. “Yeah, sweetheart?”

   “I, umm. I was wondering…” You bite your bottom lip, suddenly nervous as he zeroes in on you, waiting for your question. You muster up enough courage to ask, but you don’t want to overstep. “Would you… Do you think you could play me something?”

   His jaw ticks, his lips quiver as he muddles over your big ask. There’s a glimmer in his eye, a faint recognition of something hiding deep behind those brown pools. Uncertainty, maybe. Or was it just sadness? 

   Grazing the tip of his thumb up one of the strings, he sighs. “Haven’t played in quite some time, sweetheart.” His deep drawl is filled with anguish, and the last thing you want to do is make him sad. 

   Taking back your ask, you whisk it back in. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to… You don’t have to…”

   He stops you before you can finish your stammering. “S’alright, sweetheart. You didn’t do anything.” But it feels like you did. After a beat, he huffs out a breath. “I’ll, uhh. I’ll try, sweetheart. For you, I’ll try.”

   Those words mean more to you than he knows. He’ll try for you. That’s all you can ask for. Putting him in a vulnerable position, and he still wants to try? You don’t think you could be more smitten. 

   He straightens his back, mulls a little more over what he’s doing, then he’s placing the guitar carefully over his lap, adjusting his arms as he cradles the instrument like it’s the most fragile things he’s ever touched. 

   You fall silent and watch the way his thick fingers flex, eyebrows thread together, eyes close, lips slowly part. It almost feels like he’s keeping something down—something that’s hurting him, cutting him deep, bleeding him dry. You wish you could sew the wound up, wipe away his invisible scars that only show beneath the surface. You want to take his pain away like he takes yours. 

   After a silent fist fight in his mind, he slowly places his fingers gently on the taut strings and oh-so-carefully begins to play a steady, melancholy tune. You can feel the weary emotion he wears on his face, can see the hurt lined in his weathered stare, can feel the debilitating pain he wears on his slouched shoulders, can even hear the grieving through the deliberate cords he strums. 

   You feel the backs of your eyes burn with held-back tears the longer you watch Joel wear his heart on his flanneled sleeve. And as the melancholy tune carries throughout the stifling room, you feel every single emotion he’s ever poured out into that guitar. That special, one-of-a-kind, gem of a guitar. Whatever it means to him, you see it so clearly now, even if you don’t really know what’s got him so torn up. Was it the moth etched to perfection in the wood, or was it the person that gave him that guitar. Or, had he lost someone, too?

   When he plays the last note, his jaw goes slack, and he lays the guitar flat on his lap, his thumb slowly tracing the edge of the little moth. Tears well in his big brown eyes, but he doesn’t dare let one fall. He holds them back, like the strong man he is. But strong men are allowed to break too. And right now, you’re fighting every single particle in your body not to tiptoe over and fall into his arms. 

   Joel deserves that. Someone to take his pain away, lock their arms around his neck and promise him that he’ll be okay. Just like he promised you…

   He looks up slowly, steadily, his head still hanging low, but his eyes meet yours for a brief second. It almost kills you to see those big, sappy brown eyes lathered in such sadness. Makes you want to just rush into his arms and never let go. 

   Who hurt Joel? That’s what you want to know. Who tore his heart from his chest and ripped it in two? 

   You slowly peel yourself off the couch, leaving your book open, laying face down in the blanket. You silently tiptoe over to him, careful not to disturb his sulking, keeping your eyes glued to the way he’s brushing the pads of his fingers against the scarred strings. He’s got his heart spilled all over them like black ink. 

   Carefully, you slide in next to him, fully aware you’re about to play Russian roulette in the next few seconds. “That was beautiful. The song you played,” you whisper out, afraid you’ll shatter his glass box that’s cased around him. 

   He shifts against the leather, dragging his thumb smoothly across the polished wood. A sad smile crosses his lips, but it doesn’t meet his darkened eyes. “I uhh… I wrote that for someone. Someone who meant a lot to me…” The pain in his strained voice is etched in his clenched jaw, his palms a little shaky as he speaks. 

   You almost reach your hand out for his, but you think better of it. Someone did hurt him. Or maybe, he lost them… “Joel, that’s… that’s…” You can’t even finish your sentence without your own voice cracking. What could you say to that? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

   He rasps out a sigh and slumps his broad shoulders a bit more, one hand dragging over his silvery scruff, all the way across his mouth. And his eyes. Still glistening with held-in tears. 

   Oh, Joel… 

   “Do you want to talk about it?” you ask bravely, clenching your fingers as the words leave your lips. 

   Sniffling, he murmurs, “Not tonight. Not right, at least.” 

   You let his words simmer, let them soak into your sweater until you feel it’s safe to respond again. Shifting just a little closer, you brush your fingers just inches away from his hand, enough to where he might be able to feel the warmth coming from your palm. “Joel?”

   “Hm?” he hums, his deep bravado echoing around the room. 

   Your fingers dance closer, just enough to lick flames from your skin. If you were brave enough, you’d thread your fingers through his until he let you take away some of his held-in pain. “You know you can always talk to me, right? About anything.”

   He lets out a breath and slowly looks up at you. His eyes are hazy, a little cloudy with the fog from his watery eyes. It makes pain flood inside your chest. You freeze when he brushes his knuckles gently down your cheek, a light touch that means he appreciates you when words surely fail him in this moment. And then there’s the way he’s looking at you, like you’re the center of his gravity, making a tear leak from the corner of your eye. But of course, he wipes it away before you can blink. 

   “Thank you, sweet girl,” he smiles, letting his thumb trace your jawline before he snaps his hand back to his side. And there you go, wishing his warm palm was still lingering across your skin. 

   The way he touches you—it’s not sexual. Not in the least bit. It’s warm, filled with so much care and attention. Just like the special recipes he conjures up in the kitchen. It’s filled with extra care. And God, how he cares for you. Just like you care for him…

   He stares at you for a beat, crystallized brown flecks dancing across your vision, soaking you up like you want to do with his pain. He tilts the guitar against the leather couch and lets his palm drag down it, eyes flicking back and forth from it to you repeatedly. He looks like he wants to tell you something. Maybe the reason he’s hurting?

   Please, Joel. Give me your pain. 

   Once he’s settled his mind, he blinks a couple times and looks at you with hurt-filled eyes. He focuses on a strand of your hair, lets his fingers fall over the silky surface while you hold your breath from the contact. And he fixates on it while his mouth twitches to let the words he really wants to set free out. “The reason I haven’t played in so long is because… Because I…”

   You hold your breath, waiting for that something to come tumbling from his lips like an old wound he just won’t let go of. But before he can finish, his phone starts ringing off the hook, deflecting him from the one secret he was about to share with you. The one thing you might’ve been able to remotely help him with. 

   Pulling his phone free from the front pocket of his denim jeans, he sighs, carding his free hand through his slicked-back curls. You get the faint view of Tommy’s name scrolled across the screen which means it’s probably going to be another late night for Joel. He deserves a break. He works too hard, pushes himself past his limits most nights. He deserves someone to stop the madness for just one single night.��

   Could you stop it? Press pause on the world for just one night? Just long enough for him to get a decent night’s rest. The dark circles beneath his tired eyes never go unnoticed. He’s got so much weight on his shoulders, so much baggage to pull around. Would he let you take some of that weight off, just for one night? 

   Groaning, he pushes off the edge of the couch and stands, his thumb hovering over the answer button. “I’ve gotta take this,” he mumbles heavily, dragging all his pent-up frustration and pain right back on his shoulders. But before he clicks the button and walks away, you recklessly reach your arm out and wrap your fingers around his wrist, pulling the thick flannel just enough to get his attention. 

   Stay, Joel. Don’t go. That’s what you really want to tell him, but you’ve said enough through your rampant movements.

   Looking down at your closed hand around his wrist, he lets the phone keep ringing, just stares into your eyes while his big, wide brown irises cross with yours. There’s a hesitation there, a moment in time where everything just stops. It’s just you and him for the second, the flickering embers that crackle like pop rocks in the flames of the fireplace. 

   Parting his lips in awe, eyes crinkling slightly at the corners, tears pooling in the backs of his irises, you think he might crack right on the spot. But the world begins to spin again, bringing you back to the present where his phone continues to ring and ring and ring repeatedly. 

   Don’t answer it, Joel. Let it go to voicemail. Stay. Stay with me. But the disappointment bubbles up inside you the moment he clicks the green button to life, letting Tommy’s voice slip through the end of the receiver. “Yeah?” His voice cracks, strains as he swipes at his teary eyes. It makes you crack just the same.

   Just when you let a puff of air leave your lips, he fills the empty space by just a smidge. Slowly, carefully, he reaches over and cups the back of your head affectionately, letting his fingers linger in your hair, tangling for just a second as he fights to pull away. He’s talking on the phone, nodding his head and repeating what Tommy says, but his wide eyes are tethered to yours in a wave of emotions tossing through his beautiful brown eyes. He’s said enough in that touch, even as he pulls away. He’s saying thank you, that he appreciates you being here, that he revels in the way you’re trying. He’s trying to let his walls down too. Just enough to let you creep in and slip into the parts he keeps tucked away, afraid to show just how vulnerable he is too.

   Taking one more good look at you, he snaps his hand back inside his pocket and disappears around the corner, leaving you alone with the flickering fireplace and solid guitar next to the now empty couch. 

   You close your eyes and let your head fall back into the cushions, tucking your knees against your chest as you blow out a heavy breath. You were this close to getting a glimpse into his mind. And now? You didn’t know if you’d get that chance again.

   Joel… He barely touched you, barely grazed his fingers across your skin. But that last touch? The way he ran his hand down your hair and cupped the back of your head? That was everything all at once. He was everything. Gentle, kind, and so very soft. 

   You don’t know how long you stay there, but it’s long enough that you’ve faded off to sleep. Long enough that you feel him slip his strong arms around your body and carry you back to bed in the early morning hours of dawn. This time you don’t fight the need to sleep; you just curl into his chest for those few short, blissful seconds, breathing in his woodsy scent until he tucks you safely into bed. And you don’t miss that same brush of knuckles across your cheek before darkness takes a hold of your body. The last thing you remember is hearing his soothing Southern drawl whisper sweet nothings through the air.

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[reidingandallthat]

cranberry juice

spencer isn't sure what to do in his days of addiction but there's one familiar stranger that's present to help him forget, if only for one night, or maybe more.

words: 3.6k spencer reid x undercover!reader tags: well, dilaudid addiction, dark inner thoughts, nausea, mentions of withdrawal symptoms, alcohol, talks of a bar that's commonplace for criminals ig lmao, all for the plot, metaphors using space time continuum, some other nerd talk, yk the usual. reader is supposed to be an undercover agent, but here there's not much mention of it because this is very heavily spencer's pov. very much apologize if there's any inaccuracies with anything.

a/n: EXTREMELY nervous to post this hahaha. this comes from that one post i made, and i have too many ideas for undercover!reader if this even works out, this is purely to quench my need for this idea to happen.

The music in the club- though Spencer thinks it deserves a more modest name- was soft and slow, almost jazz, as the only couple on the dance floor clung to each other, swaying slightly to the music, the other part of the club which isn't so quiet is riddled with people surrounding tables and gambling rich men. It's not a common sight to see him drinking, less so to see him slurring through his words as he orders another one. His head hung low, leaning on the bar on his elbow, his eyes barely opening, a blinding headache obstructing his vision and line of thoughts. Possibly why he was out drinking. 

The bartender gives him a look, obviously sensing that this isn't a common occurrence for the gentleman in front of her, but she obliges. 

“If you wanted to get shit-faced drunk, this ain't the place for it,” She says in quiet contempt as she slides the glass over to him, but wears a smile as she composes herself again.

Spencer already knew that, but this was where his car had taken him, and he really didn't wanna be home. 

Truth was, Spencer hadn't had much to drink, all his symptoms were of withdrawal. 

Insomnia, dilated pupils, nausea, lightheadedness etc etc. he could list a few more. Spencer laughs as all the things he has read about addiction appear like check marks in his brain. None of the papers ever tell how agonizing it is to just exist, how the drug becomes the only thing you need, but the only thing you also don't want. How it feels to want to rip away your own skin, to bash your head against a wall until you feel the familiar pinch of the needle being injected. 

He should have known this would happen. 

When the hours of the night felt too long he thought of driving away, maybe his home was the problem. It reminded him too much of that night. Even in the car he felt like he needed to be out, his thoughts immediately thinking where he could get a dose, how he needed to buy another empty injection, he's used the other one more than twice. He should have known it was his own brain, the one thing he can never escape, it's always been too ahead of him, too fast.

He should have known the need would not go away just because he's away, the goosebumps, the torture would not stop, that he would need something to satiate himself. Even the warnings of driving while under the influence wasn't enough to stop him. 

So here he was, barely aware of where he was walking in, sitting on a chair, his head down, pressed to the wooden table. It's his second drink (that he isn't even halfway through), but sleep hasn't greeted him.

Spencer thinks of things to distract him, entropy, a measure of disorderliness of a system and he wonders how much he would measure on that scale. The world is leaning towards entropy every day, and maybe his callousness today has contributed to that metric, however illogical that thought might be.

It's when he feels the air surrounding him change when he thinks of gravity. Gravity isn't a force, according to Einstein, something people always find fascinating when he randomly rambles about it. It's a “force” caused by the curvature in space time, this is where he loses most people, often ending with someone stopping him as he tries to explain what is a space time continuum.

He lifts his head to see a blurry figure, his eyes adjusting to the light. He'd been sitting in a corner so as to not be noticed, so he's sure his company knows they're not welcome. 

But he's suddenly unsure about his previous claim when he sees you, your head looking at him sideways, chin resting on your shoulder, your body turned towards the bar. You have a curious look on your face, but if he's being honest, it's more amused than concerned.

“Tough night?” You ask, averting your head towards the bar as the bartender comes over to ask your order, a smirk on her face as if she knows something he doesn't. 

“What's your poison?” You ask again as you hand tell the bartender your order quietly enough that he can't make it out.

Spencer doesn't bother to answer, his brain too foggy to be polite, his tongue too heavy to retort.

“Oh, c’mon, talk to me. I'm bored.”

You say again, the amusement laced through every word which makes him more annoyed. 

“Please.” He mutters, not feeling the need to clarify his request, he has no interest in putting up an act with a stranger, it's hard enough to socialise when he's sober, this is hell.

You don't budge, though he feels the glass he's been clutching lightly being taken from his hands. That catches his attention.

He sits up, head still heavy as his eyes squint to let his pupils contract, light dilates your pupils to let as much light as it can into your eyes when there's darkness, a fact running through his brain, a common occurrence.

The glass is returned to his hand, well, another glass but it holds a clear liquid. He takes a sip and grimaces, it's water. 

Drink the water, alcohol dehydrates you-

He pushes the water away, not keen on listening to himself anymore.

“What's your problem with water?” The stranger asks again, and he hates it. Her voice is nice, too nice for his self- destructive mind right now, and he wants her gone.

“What's your problem in general?” He snaps as he takes the water and gulps it down and extends it again for a refill. He's not very aware of his decisions tonight.

From his periphery, he thinks he sees you smirk, taking a bite out of the cherry in your drink, hiding it as much as you can. He can't tell why the action seems familiar, but it is. 

The bartender and you share a look as she takes the shorter whiskey glass and exchanges it with a tall glass of water, and leaves to attend to the other customers.

He thinks of starting a conversation, but he glances at you again and hides another frown. You were pretty, he thinks, and he hides a frown. The day I choose to wallow in my sadness. 

“I didn't know they let pretty people in here.” You speak again, addressing him directly as you drink from a straw. He notices the drink to be magenta, too similar to cranberry juice. She's not drinking, he notes.

He frowns at your comment, genuinely confused, for two reasons. Firstly, he looks like hell, he knows that. Eyes bagged into his sockets, his clothes unwashed for days. And secondly,

“How would you be here then?” He asks, his head tilted in confusion.

You're caught off guard, though he can't seem to figure out why. 

There's no hint of teasing, or amusement in his question, and it feels like a stab in the gut (in the best way possible) when you realise it,

“I can't figure out whether or not you're flirting or you just genuinely asked me that. And I don't know which would be better for my mental health.”

He's confused again, “How would my flirting affect your mental health?” He asks and he hears a laugh. 

Again, it's a nice sound and he hates it. He hates that it's nice.

“Oh, you're adorable.” You say, your hand reaching up to remove a piece of hair hanging over his eyes. He doesn't move away, he usually would, but his actions are a bit delayed and before he can register it, you're getting up and leaving.

He discovers he's disappointed, which surprises him. He hadn't spoken much to you, maybe that's why. Or maybe he liked nice, even in the midst of his self loathing spiral.

He's turning away to call to the bartender again, to bring him a glass of- who knows what. 

He might know all about alcohol, how they're made, their advantages, and disadvantages but he doesn't have much experience with many of them. Nor is he familiar with any of the names. What even is there in a Daiquiri?

But he feels that same dip in his space again, space time continuum, and he looks to see you there again, holding now what looks to just be an orange liquid in a martini glass.

“First cranberry, now orange. You do know you're in a bar?” He retorts with too much sass than he would usually, but he sensed you welcome the spar.

“What am I supposed to do? Take body shots off of you or drown myself in my own misery?” You say casually and it makes him want to laugh a little.

“Not off of me.” He mumbles, taking another sip of his lukewarm water, though he didn't complain. He can hear Morgan say, “Oh, you've got jokes now?”

“Too many germs?” He only nods and continues drinking his water when he jumps at a sudden loud sipping noise, he sees the orange liquid coming to an end in your glass as you sip loudly through the straw. 

He composes himself and answers properly, some semblance of manners peeking through,

“Not particularly off of me. Buy you shouldn't do that off of anybody. Did you know kissing is more sanitary than handshakes?”

He asks and you have that incredulous look again, followed by an amused one,

“I can't tell again. If you're just talking or flirting.”

He frowns, “No, well- I just told you something factual.” Another sip.

You laugh again and he leans in slightly, not consciously, trying to get closer to the sound. 

“You're a rare breed, Mr….” The sentence hangs as a question, you're asking his name. 

He's suddenly aware again of his surroundings. He's at an unknown place, and if he's a good profiler he knows this isn't an honest bar. Not that the neighborhood was known for its safety. 

He stays quiet but you quickly say, “That's alright. You don't tell me, I don't tell you.”

The bartender is back again, now pouring a yellow liquid into your martini glass and he must not have realised he was looking so intently because the bartender raises her eyebrows at him, as if asking if he wants some too. He nods, quite shyly, and brings his glass forward. 

He takes a sip, mango.

“But you shouldn't come in here with that gun so,” you gesture, “up front in here. You're an outsider, and you look like hell. No offense.”

He glances down at his holster and sees the gun, and thinks back to when Penelope had said,

“It's like they gave Bambi a gun. Said with love, of course.”

He knew it was said with love, but the feeling felt more pronounced as you gave your warnings.

“They don't like cops here?” he asks, fully aware he would never actually introduce himself as one, but he thought the title to be hidden enough for the place he was in. 

“So he reveals his profession, I wonder what’s next…” another exaggerated sip, this time he laughs, getting familiar with the strangers’ antics. 

He thinks back to why he's here in the first place as his conscious mind slowly comes back. Spencer had felt the urge again, he was angry at himself. Genius with an eidetic memory, and a few molecules of a  carbon compound take over him. He threw the vial on the couch, still too afraid to break the bottle, and stormed out of the house. It was as if he knew he should come here, the bar was not on his way to work, or on his usual roads. But he was still here, and he felt too comfortable for this to be his first time here. 

He retches over nothing and immediately sees a bucket being handed to him, and the feeling of mortification washes over him.

“I've been here before, haven't I?” He asks before retching into the bucket again, throwing up the mango juice he had just drank. More shame and guilt accompany his embarrassment but his head hurts too much for him to get up.

“It's good you chose the corner,” he only now registers your hand on his shoulder, rubbing circles to provide comfort, and it is comforting. 

“We've met before, yesterday?” he asks again, and she smiles.

“It's alright. It was a short visit. I only asked you your name and you well… you don't need to know. We went to the nearby park. I got you an uber home.” she laughs and this time he does say it,

“It's nice. Your laugh. You have a nice laugh.” his head is hung low, thinking over his circumstances. 

He didn't see your reaction, but he wasn't too eager to know anyway. 

You were pretty, he was too aware of that, he likes your laugh and the first two times you've met him, he was once too out of it, and the second time he threw up. Great. 

“I'm really sorry to inconvenience you, I didn't mean to bother you. I'm sorry-”

“No, no- thats alright. Its good to have some entertainment. I just feel bored here.”

This time he laughs, “Me throwing up is entertainment for you?”

“Tch. you really are bad at this  flirting thing.” Her lips curl into a smile, and he returns the gesture as much as he can. 

Spencer excuses himself to the washroom to clean up, and god it is not a sight to see.

He thinks back to your previous comment, didnt know they let pretty people in here.

They do let them in, but that wouldnt be a problem for him today. He washes his face, another wave of nausea passing through and he tries to think of things that would distract him.

Space time continuum, more commonly known as space-time, the mathematical model where three dimensions of space and one dimension of time fuse together to make a four dimensional model. Large masses, like earth bend space time, “gravity” is felt strongest when spacetime is curved the most. There's no force of gravity, matter tells spacetime how to curve, and curved space time leads matter to an end point. 

Two people could walk the same distance in parallel lines with no intention of ever seeing each other, to just follow a straight path, but the curved space time will cause their meet. It's inevitable. 

You sit cross legged, well- your ankle resting on the other thigh as you scribble away on a lone piece of paper, and Spencer recognises it as a crossword as he takes the seat next to you. You're not at the bar anymore, you've moved to a booth. He had come by to say good-bye, but he couldn't help but comment,

“adjudge, across 10 will be deem.” He says and for the first time, he sees a questionable look, you don't say anything and just hand the puzzle back to him and say,

“I'll time you.”

Spencer wasn't one to boast about his intelligence, but at the moment, he felt like the cockiest bastard in town. 

Halfway through the puzzle, his mind coming up with answers faster than he can write them, he hears a quiet ‘what the fuck’ being muttered right next to him and he chuckles. He pushes his pen down hard enough to make a sound against the wooden table as he finishes the last word and slides the paper to you.

The look on your face is laughable, so he does laugh, after god knows how long. 

You take the paper and check it over and after a few minutes you look over at him again and he's laughing again. 

“What the fuck?” you ask, but you don't give him time to answer through his giggles,”Dude, it's been like 7 minutes. that one took me 25 minutes.” You look back at the paper again, as if that would quest your curiosity, “and I thought I was fast.” You lean back, your mouth still open in surprise. 

“25 minutes isn't bad, pretty quick for this puzzle. Don't judge yourself by my standard, I have an eidetic memory. Sorry.” 

“No, no. Never be sorry for being too smart. Atleast you're not a dick about it.” You thank the bartender as she gives you yet another drink, this time it's pink. 

“I’d say what I just did was a dick move, I was flaunting.” He reasons as he observes your drink for a second,

“No, what you did was cool. As annoyed as I am about it.” You defend him, and take a look at your watch.

“People are usually just annoyed. I haven't been described as cool by many people,” he takes a pause, “actually by no one.” Spencer notices your actions and senses some suspicion, but he shakes it off. You must have ordered again when he wasn't paying attention.

“I'd beg to differ,” you take a sip of your drink and say, “I have more if you have time…” The end of the sentence was meant as a question and Spencer nodded his head. He has three weeks worth of personal time. All he has now is time. you rummage through your bag for more unfinished crossword puzzles. Most of them are 90% done, just two or three empty spaces. 

“Chemist lab equipment, 10 words. That's easy, you can do that.” He points out,

“I've tried!! I literally can't figure it out. The only clue I have is that there's an e in it. A vowel.”

“Think about it.” He pushes.

“I asked for your help.” You complain but he still doesn't relent,

“I am helping!” He snaps back but quickly says, “Alright, I'll give you a clue, it starts with a C.”

Your head tilts as you go into deep thought and Spencer suppresses a chuckle when he sees recognition pass over your face,

“Centrifuge?” You ask tentatively,

“YES!” He claps his hand and you both laugh again and this goes on for a while. 

You ask him answers to empty crossword clues and he gives you a few more hints to get it right. There were some that even he couldn't figure out quickly, which were met with teasing from your end. He welcomed it, he was used to friendly teasing, he worked with Morgan for god's sake. A significant amount of time must have passed because you glanced at the clock again and this time, the same cranberry drink was in your hands and he couldn't help but ask,

“Why are you drinking so many juices?”

“We’re in a bar, genius. You're the weird one who's not drinking.” 

“I was drinking. You stopped me.” You did stop him. And you didn't once ask him what was going on with him. No concerned questions, no I can help you. 

“No, you were drowning in your misery.” And as if you could read his mind, “And I don't think you'd appreciate alcohol addiction too.” 

Too. 

Spencer couldn't understand why you weren't telling him that he should stop, that what he's doing is wrong, why you weren't warning him or shaming him but you speak up again,

“I assume you came here for a reprieve. I don't need to know the specifics to figure it out. Though you shouldn't use alcohol for your reprieves. Not a good alternative.” 

You shake your head in mock disappointment, and take another exaggerated sip. Spencer notes that you do that whenever you're worried you won't get a response, as a way to fill the silence. Profiler.

“What do you suggest? Juice?” He asks, gesturing to your glass and you laugh again, and he again thinks it's nice. But this time he doesn't say it out loud.

“So, what other things are you annoyingly good at?” You ask and he lists out too many things in his head, things people tell him he's the expert at. He doesn't agree with them all the time, but there is one thing he knows he's good at. 

“Chess” He answers.

You chuckle, “Figures.” You think this is probably the fifth time he's missed the cue of flirting but then you rethink how this is probably how he flirts, or just talks. Genuine earnestness. No twisted words to mask his intentions and a strange warmth fills your chest.

Maybe a little company for a while everyday won't hurt.

“So, same time tomorrow?” You ask as you gather your things above the table and put them in your bag and he's startled by the question to answer it immediately. But he registers it and says,

“Uhh, for what? Chess?” 

“Yes. You're gonna teach me. Because right now, I have to go.” You say hurriedly and pat his cheek before leaving and he thinks of all the things he had to say 

I don't know if I'll be here tomorrow.

Where would we find a chess set?

What if he's too out of it to make it here?

What should he wear? 

He doesn't even know what time it was.

What's your name?

How would I find you?

Gravity, Spencer thinks.

All those questions are unanswered as you become impossible to find in the nearly empty bar, but he thinks

I'll ask later. 

Same time, tomorrow.

[valandrawrites]

2024 Recommended Fics - Incomplete List

Here's my start at an end of year round up. If you're looking for a specific kind of fic or trope, let me know, and I'll try to find something for you! I have many, many more I could add, and what I've included is in no particular order.

I didn't list the rating or warnings with this because it just got too long, and honestly, I'm lazy. Read at your own risk.

A. fragilis by eachainn @eachainn

This is quite simply the best fic I've ever read. Do not continue until you read this one!

150 million years ago, an Allosaurus finds a stranger had wandered into his territory and he wants the intruder out.

1878, the middle of what will become known as the Bone Wars between O.C. Marsh and Edward Drinker Cope. Castiel Novak is transporting fossils from the latest dig in South Dakota back to Yale. He has to be careful, because there are people who work for Professor Cope who would gladly take the fossils off of his hands.

Those Who Get in the Way of Peace by ladyofthelake17 @ladyofthe-lake

“Don’t make me an optimist. You will ruin my life.”

Dean Winchester finally has his shit together: business is booming at his auto repair shop, he's eating healthy (okay, he's eating salad with bacon bits), he's exercising (in a cemetery). He's single, but he's claiming it as a good thing. And so what if Sam's not talking to him? So what if his dad is marrying an insane artist? And so what if the priest marrying them is hot as hell with a name that sounds like a sin just to say it — Castiel?

AKA: another Fleabag fic, but maybe it'll have a happy ending. Maybe.

Illicit Ink by allmystars @allmystars-i

Dean Winchester has a secret. He does this thing maybe two or three times a week, and he loves it, don’t get him wrong, but… He’s a camboy, and that’s not exactly something he wants shared around the breakfast table. When Dean decides he needs a change, it’s nothing too drastic, just a tattoo. But the hot-as-sin tattoo artist he gets to do the job might just change everything.

Ground Control to Major Tom by MrsShinigamiDaiko @mrs-shinigami-daiko

Dean Winchester dreamed of being a mechanic all his life, but he never thought he would end up working as a mechanic for NASA and going into space. He is thrust into his first ever space mission after a strange lunar body, dubbed Luna-b I, mysteriously appears in Earth’s sky. Teams of astronauts scramble up to the permanent lunar base and begin analysis to determine if the blue orb is any threat to mankind. Most of the first team is sent home after a few months, nearly all of them having fallen ill with devastating cases of space sickness. As time goes on, it becomes clear that something altogether unnatural is going on here. Dean feels like he’s losing his mind as he and his crewmates also begin to succumb to sickness. He races to figure out what could possibly be the root cause. Is Luna-b I really just some weird, deep space rock that got caught in the Moon’s orbit by chance? Or is it something much more sinister, watching and waiting for the opportune moment?

Pinfall by crowleyo @crowleyo

Cas runs the family diner with his adopted son, Jack. His old high school flame rolls into town and he thinks he can just step back into Castiel's life. Well... He's kind of right.

This Impossible Happiness by FriendofCarlotta @friendofcarlotta

In one universe, Dean Winchester is pushing thirty. He’s just danced at his little brother’s wedding, he likes his job at the garage, and he goes on the occasional hunt with friends and family. He’s also desperately lonely for someone to share his life with. One day, he finds a mysterious package outside his door. It contains a news clipping about an urban legend that just might be real, and a book by Professor Castiel Novak, who happens to specialize in that same urban legend.

In another universe, Castiel Novak’s roadside motel is slowly dying, its business hollowed out by the interstate system. Dean Winchester, the man who asked him to run away together years ago, is only a painful regret these days. Until the day a mysterious letter Castiel doesn’t remember writing brings Dean back to his doorstep.

Out there in the multiverse, a man and an angel look for each other in all the wrong places. In the meantime, they might as well help a few other versions of themselves figure things out.

Then Comes the Rain by someonetoanyone @someonetoanyone-blog - a three part series

“I’m not looking forward to it,” Rowena tells him, as though that will absolve her of anything, “he may have a better solution for this, but the spell requires a smidge of spilled Grace. He’ll need to be hurt for this to work, and — Dean, all joking aside, you may be the only person fit to do this.”

“Oh, this’ll be great — go ahead, tell me why I’m the only one that can get butt-fucked to save the world.”

Mind Your Own Business by BunnyHunter

While the ability to overhear the secret thoughts of the people around him was distracting at best and anxiety-inducing at worst, Castiel had found ways to cope that included a pair of noise-canceling headphones and burying himself in his PhD research. After hearing inner thoughts for his entire life, there were very few things he overheard that surprised him anymore. So imagine his shock when his roommate Sam's brother, Dean, came to stay with them. While Dean may have been able to keep a straight face on the outside, his inner thoughts told a much different story.

Survivalism by bleuzombie @bleuzombie

Genetic engineers Castiel Novak and Dean Winchester are on the verge of a breakthrough in cancer treatment and possibly even a cure, using genetic manipulation and incredibly, shark DNA.

Following a devastating diagnosis of brain cancer, and amid growing pressure from his boss, Dick Roman, for results, Castiel is pushed to an act of desperation. He tests the cure on himself with disastrous and violent results.

He has never been so hungry.

Dean Winchester’s half-way house for orphaned half-monsters (and humans) by foolondahill17 @foolondahill17

What if Dean just kept every kid he’s ever interacted with?

A re-write of season 6 onwards in which Dean slowly collects every conceivable stray that crosses his path.

The eyes of a lamb by naughtystiel @naughtystiel for Shedar

The year is '98 and Spring is approaching fast. For most, the season is a symbol of new beginnings with Mother Nature’s chaste kiss that breathes life into everything once more. It's inspiring, peaceful and beautiful. So, the fact that this is exactly when a certain serial killer loves to strike makes Detective Winchester's blood boil. Two years in a row now, the guy has slipped through his fingers, not leaving a single trace behind. No clues, no leads, just murdered women in the most picturesque places imaginable. And the worst thing of all? Sometimes Dean catches himself admiring the killer's work.

where there is darkness by quiettewandering @quiettewandering @wanderingcas 

When Castiel Milton takes a job to be the new assistant keeper at Whaleback Lighthouse in Kittery, Maine, he expects to live out his new life in quiet isolation. What he gets instead is Dean Winchester: bitter, brash, and, like Castiel, harboring a dark secret. As the spark of attraction between them grows into a flame, the lighthouse walls start closing in—as do the ghosts of Dean and Castiel's checkered pasts.

[aishangotome]

Azel Radwan: Dramatic Ending Epilogue

Dramatic Ending Ch. 25 His Side Story

Thank you @passthechloroform for providing the video for this chapter!

♡———♡

Tanzanite, with its god gone, did not change overnight.

People still revered Azel, and the markets were lined with commemorative coins and statues of him.

But to say that nothing had changed would also be untrue.

Before, every three steps you took in the city would lead you to a divination shop, but now their numbers had dwindled.

Instead, you could stumble upon bookstores, which had been impossible to find before, no matter how much you wandered around.

(Just as the letter said…)

(Tanzanite now presents a golden opportunity for booksellers to expand their market.)

*flashback*

Akatsuki: You want to do business in Tanzanite?

Emma: Yes. I thought that if we open a sales channel now, we might be able to establish a Tanzanite branch eventually.

Emma: Wouldn’t it be easier for the Owner, who travels to every country on the continent, to operate with several bases?

Akatsuki: …That makes sense.

Emma: Right? Actually, it seems Tanzanite is making a national effort to attract booksellers…

Emma: I think it’s a good opportunity to make a lot of money.

Akatsuki: Do you want to go?

Emma: If you’ll allow it.

Akatsuki: I’ll allow the business.

Emma: …!

Akatsuki: But, I won’t allow any unhealthy relationships before marriage.

Emma: Wh-What do you mean?

Akatsuki: Your objective is the dead god.

Akatsuki: He even sends you letters every time. How unsightly.

Emma: …Then, would you allow a healthy relationship?

Akatsuki: …

Akatsuki: If anything happens to you, I’ll kill that god.

*flashback over*

(I can’t tell the Owner about that night, not even if my mouth is torn apart.)

Just remembering it made me blush, and I shook my head as if to dispel those thoughts.

My objective today was market research –– to assess the demand and see what kind of books were needed. That was my job.

(Huh? There’s a crowd over there.)

(It doesn’t seem to be related to bookstores, but this is also part of market research.)

(I might be able to learn about the current trends in Tanzanite, so let’s go.)

I never imagined that my casual decision to join the crowd out of curiosity would ––

––lead to a tragedy later on.

-

Azel: …And?

Emma: …It was a soap shop.

Emma: They sell soap made by a famous perfumer, and it seems to have a reputation for smelling very good.

Emma: I thought I’d like to try it too… so I reached for it.

Azel: There must have been other selling points besides it smelling good.

Emma: ………… That it can captivate the person you’re interested in.

Azel: Sigh… Why do you fall for such obvious traps?

Emma: Because I wouldn’t think something like that would be sold openly in the city!

(This sense of déjà vu… I remember this.)

When I used the soap I bought at the market in the bath, my body started to feel strange by the time I got out.

The enchantingly pleasant scent gradually induced a feverish heat, making my skin unbearably sensitive.

The mere rubbing of my negligee against my skin made my stomach tingle strangely, and my heart pounded like a drum.

I felt like I could faint from shame at any moment.

Azel: Listen, Tanzanite is famous for its songs, dances, and harem.

Azel: It’s not uncommon for people from the harem to sell shady goods in the city to earn some extra money.

Emma: …I didn’t know that.

Azel: Think of “captivating the person you’re interested in” as a catchphrase for aphrodisiacs. It was a good lesson, wasn’t it?

(I never thought I’d experience this feeling again.)

The effects of this aphrodisiac seemed to be even stronger than the perfume mixed with the aphrodisiac ingredients from last time, and if I let my guard down, indecent sounds would escape my lips.

(…I want to cry…)

Azel: Hey, don't make that face like you're about to cry.

Azel: The quickest way to get rid of an aphrodisiac is–

*flashback*

Azel: In reality, an aphrodisiac will naturally leave your system with time.

Azel: All you can do is sleep or distract yourself, those are your two options.

*flashback over*

(I’ll just hide in the kitchen like last time, that’s what I’ll do.)

(I can’t let Azel see my unsightly behavior.)

In the middle of his lecture, I turned my back on him and reached for the door as if to escape.

Azel: Where are you going?

Emma: To cook.

Azel: Huh?

Emma: I’m going to cool my head, so please don’t mind me and go to sleep, Prince Azel.

Emma: Good night!

-

Emma: …Why are you following me!?

Azel: …I’m not following you. I’m thirsty.

Azel, who had followed me to the kitchen without a care in the world, poured water into a ceramic cup, just as he had said.

Even after taking a sip and wetting his throat, he showed no sign of leaving.

Azel: Do you want some too?

Emma: …

(Last time, you confined me here and left on your own.)

(…Thinking about it now, that was probably an act of mercy to prevent anyone from seeing my embarrassing behavior.)

(I’d like you to show me the same mercy this time…)

Azel: What is it? You’ve been staring at me.

Emma: You know what I want to say, right?

Azel: Not at all.

Emma: Leave me alone.

Azel: This is my castle.

Emma: Are you okay with being attacked by me?

I tried to push Azel out of the kitchen, but–

(H-He won’t budge…!)

He looked at me with a mixture of amusement and pity.

Azel: What are you doing?

Emma: You wicked god– Ah, no, you’re not a god anymore.

Emma: Um… Wicked person!

Azel: Congratulations on increasing your debt through insults.

Emma: …I understand. You don’t want tomorrow’s meal, then. It was going to be a special dish with meat.

Azel: If that’s what you wish, I’ll obediently return to my room. Goodbye.

(This tactic was the most effective after all.)

Azel briskly headed for the exit, but he turned around before leaving the kitchen.

Azel: However, you should know what an aphrodisiac is.

Azel: It’s actually easier to let it out than to endure it.

(…I know.)

My body, forcibly heated by the aphrodisiac, was aching to the point that I wanted to scratch it, and I unconsciously followed Azel's hand with my eyes.

(If I could just have his hand touch me…)

I slapped my cheeks with both hands as if to resist the temptation and shook my head.

Emma: Thank you for your concern. But I’m fine.

Azel: Why are you so stubborn?

Azel: We’ve already crossed the line.

Emma: …That’s true, but…

Emma: If you touch me like that night, I’ll probably become a mess.

Azel: It might be a good lesson.

Emma: …If Prince Azel were to hate me, I wouldn’t be able to recover.

Azel: Why would that happen?

(Because…)

Emma: You don’t have good memories of aphrodisiacs, do you?

*flashback*

Emma: In the first place, I’ve never used or even seen an aphrodisiac, so I don’t know what it’s like…

Azel: Huh? You’ve never seen one in your life?

Emma: Of course not!

Azel: There are people like that?

*flashback over*

(Because of his position as God, people around Azel-sama tried every trick in the book to get him interested in women.)

(I’ve never asked for details, but I’m sure he’s been tormented by unwanted aphrodisiacs.)

Azel: …Indeed, as you said, I’ve been through a lot with aphrodisiacs.

Azel: I have nothing but unpleasant memories of being forced to watch women lose control in front of me.

Emma: Then–

Azel: But you’re not…

Azel: …

Emma: …Prince Azel?

Azel: ..............

Azel: I hate being attacked.

Emma: I think anyone would.

Azel: That’s right. So I came up with a great idea.

(Huh, the atmosphere suddenly became ominous.)

Even though he was supposed to be heading outside, Azel came back to me for some reason.

When I casually tried to move away, he wrapped his arms around my waist.

Emma: Ah…

An unfamiliar sensation set my entire body ablaze with shame, and I reflexively pushed back against his chest.

But instead of moving away, Azel brought his lips to my ear and breathed a sigh.

Azel: It’s fine to attack before you’re attacked, like this.

Emma: That’s not good, not good at all… Mm!

My ear was nibbled, and indecent gasps melted into the kitchen air.

Emma: No… This really… won’t end well… so… Ah.

The hand that had been resting on my waist slid down and slipped between my legs, along with my negligee.

With just a light touch, my vision went white, and my body trembled as my strength gave out.

Azel: How could you say you were fine in this state?

Azel lifted me up as I collapsed on the floor.

Emma: …I could… evaporate from embarrassment right now…

Azel: If you haven’t evaporated yet, you’ll be fine.

Azel carried me outside and headed for his room with quick steps.

Even the wind that enveloped my body brought me slight pleasure, and I felt a sensation of honey dripping from my lower abdomen.

Emma: ………… Prince Azel.

Azel: It’s not unpleasant or uncomfortable.

Azel: …You’re different from other women.

Just as he said, Azel didn’t seem uncomfortable at all. In fact, his slightly unfocused gaze seemed to reveal his true feelings.

Azel: I can stop if you’re seriously against it.

(Honestly, I’m scared… but…)

(…If… Azel… doesn’t mind…)

I grabbed Azel's clothes and exhaled as if to release the intense heat within me.

Emma: …Touch… me… please…

-

As soon as we returned to the room, Azel stripped me of my negligee and sat me on the bed, embracing me from behind.

Emma: Gasp... Ah...

The mere act of his palm cupping my breast sent a jolt through my core, and when he pressed against my hardened nipple, my vision blurred to white.

Each time his lips grazed my ear, a sweet nectar overflowed in response, and my whole body trembled as his finger, coated with it, slipped inside me.

Even after all this, the aphrodisiac still lingered in my body, and my hips moved involuntarily, matching the rhythm of his finger swirling within me.

Emma: Nn... ...Aah...

Azel effortlessly supported me as I slumped against him, limp.

Azel: Are you alive?

Emma: Barely... alive...

Azel: That's good to hear.

Azel: Learn from this and never touch those "captivate your beloved" concoctions again.

Azel: Besides, even without using such things––

Azel: ...

Emma: ...Even without?

Azel: Why are you so focused on that part?

Emma: Nn...! Don't touch me th-there... aaah!

He hooked a finger around the sensitive swell, now slick with nectar, and another burst of wicked pleasure exploded from my core.

My breath hitched, hot and ragged, and my consciousness almost drifted off into a dream.

Azel: You make that kind of face too, huh?

Azel: ...I feel like I'm the one who's been ravished, even though I'm the one who attacked you.

(I'm... too scared to ask what kind of face I'm making... but...)

Azel's expression as he gazed at me was so alluring it made my heart ache.

That unexpected, worldly expression, so far removed from his usual sanctity—

Our eyes met, and our lips found each other as if drawn together by an invisible force.

(I've had enough of aphrodisiacs... )

(But if it means I can see that look on your face when you desire me... maybe it's not all bad.)

---

(Suspicious Solicitation)

※ This letter has been sent to all booksellers ※

In Tanzanite, a city overflowing with tourist attractions, bookstores are opening one after another.

With the decline of divination, once a symbolic industry of the nation, the demand for knowledge is on the rise.

Furthermore, the nation is currently offering generous support to foreign booksellers, allowing you to start your business immediately.

Tanzanite is now a dreamland where anyone with the skills of a bookseller can easily become a business owner – an opportunity no one in the trade would want to miss.

So, what do you think? It's piqued your interest, hasn't it? It would be a shame to let this big-money chance slip away.

We are currently offering passage to Tanzanite at a special price.

If you are interested in visiting, please contact us at the address below.

P.S. This letter has been sent to all booksellers. Don't try to investigate this offer with your colleagues out of suspicion.

Also, we don't particularly need you to come quickly, nor do we necessarily want a reply.

Don't misunderstand... Absolutely do not misunderstand.

Azel Radwan

--

FIN

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IkePri Masterlist

[jonayariley]

Some more tips from someone who's been doing computer stuff professionally for like 20 years and tinkering with computers since she was a wee lass!

If you have a desktop, it's absolutely worth learning the basics of how to swap out components yourself. Desktops are generally designed to be user-serviceable, and being able to upgrade/replace components like the GPU rather than buying a whole new PC is a huge advantage.

If you're running Windows, the Defender anti-virus that comes with it is probably a better anti-virus option than any third-party one. Malwarebytes sometimes adds an extra layer of checking for malicious-but-non-virus software, but tbh Defender is good - just make sure you keep Windows up to date.

If you're still rocking traditional hard drives (the kind with magnetic platters), replace them with SSDs (solid-state drives) as soon as possible! SSDs are significantly faster, more reliable, longer lasting, and less likely to be damaged if you accidentally bump or knock over your PC!

If you've got the ability to install an M2 SSD and have some extra money (they're kinda pricey, compared to normal SSDs), those are absolutely worth it! They're somehow even faster than normal SSDs and come in a ridiculously small form factor (I have a 4 TB M2 drive in my desktop and it's amazing)

As several folks have said - you SHOULD NOT defragment SSDs!

Probably the most cost effective upgrade on a system with less than 16 GB of RAM is to upgrade the RAM, especially if you do a lot of memory-heavy stuff like photo/video editing. RAM is dirt cheap now, and having 32 GB of the stuff is amazing.

Speaking of that, if you're running less than 8 GB of RAM on a modern Windows PC you need to upgrade that shit immediately. An 8 GB RAM module will run you around the cost of buying a meal or two from McDonalds, so unless you have a laptop with soldered memory, it's an essential upgrade at that point.

If you do happen to leave something on the laptop keyboard and end up breaking the screen, it is possible to replace it - you can take it to a repair place or if you're reasonably tech-savvy you can buy replacement screen modules for $100-200 and the installation isn't super awful (my daughter's laptop screen had this happen when a cat knocked the screen shut on a pair of earbuds and broke the LCD panel)

If you have the ability to install more than one physical drive, you should try to have one drive for the OS and your main programs (but NOT the files you create in those programs) and one drive that you use for data storage. If you're ever in the position where you need to do a clean wipe/reinstall of your OS, it's much easier to not have to worry about whether or not you're also going to end up losing your data.

If you're a gamer and want to do your due diligence when buying upgrades, Tom's Hardware, especially their GPU/CPU hierarchy, is an invaluable resource. 2024 GPU Hierarchy 2024 CPU Hierarchy Seriously, I've been using them for performance research since like 2006, they're an incredibly useful place to get no-bullshit info on the hardware and the whole "is this worth upgrading?" question.

When it comes to heat management in desktop PCs, make sure you have a good CPU fan (or liquid cooling), that you open the case periodically and blow out the dust (use one of those compressed air cans), and that components aren't overly obstructed by cables. Basically, you want open space in the case to allow air to circulate, and you want the case to be well ventilated.

If you're doing any kind of upgrading or troubleshooting, you should grab yourself a copy of Open Hardware Monitor (it's free and open-source)! It provides access to the data from all the sensors on your PC, including various temperature and voltage sensors, load indicators for CPU/GPU, etc. This can help diagnose common issues, like CPU shutdown due to overheating.

The Very Basics of Not Killing Your Computer

AVOID HEAT STRESS

If you have a laptop DO NOT use it on a soft surface like a pillow or on a blanket, it’ll block the vents on your computer and make it get really fucking hot inside.

If you have a desktop you gotta open it up and blow out the dust sometimes.

If you are moving your laptop in a bag turn the laptop off. Don’t put it to sleep, don’t just shut the screen, turn it off, because otherwise it’s in the bag generating heat and there’s nowhere for the heat to go in the bag. OFF. Not sleep. OFF.

DO NOT DROP

Okay I know that should be obvious but drop damage to your hard drive is bad bad news. Be as careful as you can to set your computer gently on flat surfaces; don’t leave it hanging out on a bed where it can get knocked off, don’t set it on the roof of your car. And yes, just dropping it a couple inches can kill your hard drive or totally shatter your screen.

DON’T PUT SHIT ON YOUR KEYBOARD

Look I’ve seen four people ruin their laptops because they had a pen on the keyboard and closed the laptop and it fucked up the screen and the keyboard and it sucks so much and you feel awful after it happens because it’s so avoidable just don’t put things on your keyboard and always check that your laptop is clear before you close it.

PROTECT YOUR PORTS ON YOUR LAPTOP

You’ve only got one power jack and a limited number of other inputs on your computer and if they detach from the motherboard you’re fucked. USB ports get damaged because people use them a lot and eventually it weakens the connection and then they just stop working and it sucks. You can get around this with USB ports by using a USB hub to connect things like your keyboard and mouse.

For your power plug you just gotta be careful. Avoid tripping over the cord at all costs, don’t yank the plug out of the computer. It will SUCK VERY MUCH A LOT if you have to buy a new computer because the power port lost contact with the motherboard.

Don’t move your computer with things plugged into it. Take the power cord off before you put your laptop in the bag, take out the USB mouse dongle, do not travel with little nubby bits sticking out of your computer that can easily get caught or get tweaked or snap off inside of the thing.

(I really can’t emphasize enough that most of the “it will cost more than it’s worth to fix this” laptops I see are because of USB ports and power jacks. People don’t seem to know that this isn’t something that can be fixed easily; a broken power jack is a “remove the motherboard and resoldier components” job, not a “plug a new one in in fifteen minutes” job and most computer repair shops aren’t going to solder things for you and if they DO it’s going to be very expensive)

RESTART YOUR SHIT AT LEAST ONCE A MONTH AND JUST LET THE FUCKING UPDATES RUN

You should probably restart more than once a month but whatever. This is actually something that I consider part of reducing heat stress because when your processor is straining to keep up with all the background bullshit that’s running from a program you opened three weeks ago it’s going to use up resources and get hot and look just restart it once in a while.

Also the updates are almost always okay and safe and generally running updates is a good and secure thing to do (though maybe follow a blog dedicated to the OS you run because if there IS a problem with the updates that blog will probably talk about it before the update gets forced on your computer)

ANTIVIRUS BULLSHIT

Yes you should probably be running an antivirus.

Sophos is free and it’s fine. But don’t pay for it - if you’re using Sophos use the free version.

If you’re looking for something paid and a little more comprehensive I recommend ESET - get the cheap version, renewals cost less than the initial purchase, and feel free to get a multi-year version, the credentials follow your email not the computer so if your computer dies before your license expires you can install the license on a new computer.

DO NOT INSTALL NORTON OR MCAFEE THEY ARE EXPENSIVE BULLSHIT. Kaspersky is whatever. It’s less bullshit than Norton or McAfee but not as good as ESET for about the same cost.

If you think you’ve got a virus run the free version of Malwarebytes and get your shit cleaned.

KEEP LIQUIDS THE FUCK AWAY FROM YOUR COMPUTER

Again this should be obvious and yet. But seriously, just make a rule for yourself that drinks aren’t allowed on the same table as your computer and you’ll save yourself a lot of headaches.

PLUG YOUR COMPUTER INTO A UPS

Okay I fucking hate amazon but here’s a thing you should be using, just search the rest of the internet for “surge protector/UPS” and you’ll find something that isn’t from amazon - APC is a solid brand for this.

Basically you want a fat surge protector that has a little bit of a battery backup and you want to plug your computer (desktop OR laptop) into that instead of into the wall. The benefit of this is twofold:

1) if there’s a power surge the UPS will prevent your computer’s power supply from getting fried and possibly frying parts of your motherboard

2) if there’s a power outage and you’re *at* your computer you’ll have enough time to save what you’re working on before your computer loses power (like, you’ll maybe only have a minute or two on a small UPS but that’s still time to hit CTRL+S and keep from losing work)

At a bare, bare minimum your computer should be plugged into a surge protector but NOT directly into the wall.

BACK YOUR SHIT UP

[we interrupt this yelling for me to tell you that Western Digital has apparently released their new My Passport line and I’m obligated to inform you that you can get a 2.5″ USB 3.0 backup drive with FIVE FUCKING TERABYTES OF STORAGE for $130. Or you can get 4TB for $93. Or you can get 1TB for $53. basically what I’m saying is that it is not only cheap computer season it is also cheap hard drive season.]

[also if you’re getting a backup drive get western digital not seagate seagate fucking sucks and has a much higher failure rate]

Uh, okay, anyway - Do an image backup of your computer every once in a while so that if you get infected or your hard drive dies or whatever you can just restore from backup and move on like nothing happened.

HERE’S HOW TO DO AN IMAGE BACKUP.

SAVE YOURSELF THE WEAR AND TEAR

You know what is cheap? USB Keyboards and USB mice. You know what is not cheap? Fixing the touchpad on a laptop or replacing a laptop keyboard.

Get yourself a USB hub, a USB Keyboard and a USB Mouse (wired or wireless, doesn’t matter) and if you’re using your laptop at home plug *that* into your computer.

Also if your keyboard on your laptop breaks it’s fine just to use a USB keyboard instead I promise; if the screen breaks it’s also usually cheaper and easier to get a used or inexpensive monitor than it is to replace the screen. Your laptop is basically just a very small version of whatever bullshit is going on inside a desktop, if the peripherals break but the core components are fine you can just use it like a desktop.

Unless it’s a piece of shit that doesn’t have any USB ports or video out in which case you got ripped off, friend, demand functionality in your devices I’m sorry.

/rant

[shadowsndaisies]

codename: nightingale- auld acquaintances

reference: young justice season 1 episode 26

wc: 10.3k

synopsis: well shit gets real, conner yeets ng and robin, all while, ng reminds us why she’s the best, and the otp(s) get their shit (collectively and respectively) together

main masterlist

codename: nightingale series masterlist

a/n: I CANNOT BELIEVE I DID IT. you guys and your support have carried me though this process and the many YEARS it took me to get to this point. I have loved writing this since the beginning and I still do. Thank you for loving this story and the characters as much as I do. Enjoy!

MOUNT JUSTICE

December 31st, 03:12 EST

The cave was quiet as you zeta’d in. You’d only managed a few hours of sleep before you woke up in a fit. Ollie’s penthouse was silent though. And a quick check through the security system told you no one but you was home, in fact no one had come home, since you had. The team had made the decision to host a debrief at 0730, the next day, allowing everyone (mostly you) to recenter.

Given that the penthouse was empty, you decided to head to the cave early, if you were lucky, you’d be able to check the logs and see if Ollie, Dinah, and Roy were still up in the Watchtower or not.

“Recognized: Nightingale b-14,” the computer’s voice echoed in the darkness of the cave, and a couple of light flickered on in response.

“Computer, pull Zeta logs for the last 24 hours to the Watchtower, Nightingale Access delta echo charlie zero six,” you call out your code after a brief look assures that you’re the only one around.

“Access Denied,” the computer’s response throws you off guard as you pull up a screen, but you’re treated to a red screen.

“Under who’s authority?”

“Designation 0-2.”

“Batman?” you whisper the answer to yourself, but you can’t understand why. You’ve had access to the Watch Tower logs since Ollie and Dinah told you about the tower. You couldn’t get there without them, but you could access the logs to see who’s there currently, and you could usually see the calendar to know when Dinah and Ollie were scheduled.

“Computer, Canary Override: charlie romeo yankee seven eight nine three,” you attempt.

“Override denied.”

“What? Why?”

“Override denied per designation A-0-4.”

“A-0-4? Who is A-0-4?”

“Access Denied.”

“Oh, fuck’s sake!” you shout.

“Perhaps yelling at our computer system is not the best use of your limited time to rest?” a new voice interrupts.

You frown as you turn to look at Kaldur, “it won’t let me access the Watch Tower logs,” you huff, pointing at the red message glaring back at you.

“Why are you looking to access the logs?” he asks, brows furrowed as he looks between you and the screen.

“No one came home last night, K. I needed- I wanted- I just need to talk to Dinah, after everything that happened? I just wanted Dinah or Ollie, and they weren’t home. I passed out on the couch waiting, and when I woke up, they still hadn’t come back. I just wanted to see if they were still there,” you explain.

Kaldur’s lips pull into a frown, “They may be pre-occupied, the League, as you know, better than most, can be demanding, even at the best of times, and with the best of offers,” he states.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you defend, sensing his double meaning.

“You mean to tell me, my King is but a liar?” he challenges.

You’re quiet for a moment, Kaldur knew better than anyone, just how much you respected King Orin, “what did he say, exactly?”

“That you were also accepted into the League, that you were by far the best candidate off all those who were inducted, and yet, you were the only one who has said no to date,” he admits.

Your voice is quiet as you look at your friend, before you sigh, “how long have you known?”

“Since the meeting in November.”

“You didn’t say anything…”

“Neither did you, I decided it’d be best to follow your lead. You would have said something when you were ready to,” he shrugs.

“I’m not ready. I don’t feel ready, to be there, at that level,” you explain.

“You owe me no explanation, old friend. I have always had faith in your decisions, I won’t start questioning them now,” he assures you.

“Thanks, K,” you sigh. “Did he really say I was the best candidate?”

Kaldur smiles knowingly, and gently places a hand on your shoulder, “Come, M’gann stress baked cookies last night upon our arrival. We can indulge in those while we watch something?”

“Yes, please.”

You both got settled on the green sofas with a plate of cookies on the coffee table before you, and two mugs of tea. You were flipping through the available options when Kaldur spoke up again.

“I watched when you were barely in double digits trying to learn how to sort through your feelings and emotions,” he began and your grip on the mug tightened, while your hand with the remote dropped. “I watched as you turned it into a motivator, a strength. I watched how you learned to center yourself and be objective, even with only a decade beneath you. What you feel now, how you feel now, might be stronger, but you know how to utilize that, you know how to sort it. But until you can, until you’re able and ready, I hope you know I will be here to temper it. Just as I was before,” his tone is firm, as he expresses himself.

Slowly your gaze moves to him, and you take him in. This Kaldur was nearly an adult, he had given up the Conservatory, and trained with King Orin. This Kaldur taught you Atlantean, he helped you learn how to open yourself to magic.

“Kaldur…”

“We used to spar, do you remember? You were so full of rage and I remember the Queen sending me to spar with you one day. Garth and Tulla thought it would be unfair, they thought that with my age, my size, my magical and home advantage, you would be unable to compete. Fitting, that you knocked me down in mere minutes, despite being slowed by the water, despite being in a new place, despite your age and size. It was then that we all realized that you hold so much raw power, much more than you ever seemed to realize yourself.”

“You’d think you would’ve learned your lesson after Wally,” you scoff, sniffing to yourself and recalling the first time you met the boys.

“Oh, I did. Which is why I asked for you to be included in our studies, it’s why you studied with me, specifically, at the conservatory. You needed an outlet, then. So, you studied with us, trained with us, and despite not being naturally adept at magic, despite being out of your element, you held your own, you beat us several times. You mastered skills quicker than we ever did. You needed the distraction, to let go of all that you had been forced to carry at such a young age. I just hope you can trust me to help you with that again.”

“You were my first true friend, Kaldur’ahm. I had Roy, but he had always been introduced as a brother, you were a friend. You saw me, the realest version of me, rageful, angry, upset, scared, all of the negative emotions and you still decided that you would help me. You have always looked out for me, and you have always had my trust,” you’re resolute in your answer, no one had supported you through the hard parts like Kaldur had, because he was right. He had seen you at your angriest, he’d watched you fight as an outlet, seen you train yourself to the brink of exhaustion just to be free of the rage, even for a minute, and instead of telling you that you were wrong for your methods, he instead offered you new outlets, new opportunities. He lent you his strength and stability when you had none.

“I am honored to hold that title, my bird. We made a promise, you remember? A piece of our histories intertwined,” he states, smiling at you as he tugs a gold chain from under his shirt. Your gaze lingers on it for a moment before dropping to the ring you’d been subconsciously fidgeting with.

The ring that had allowed you to breathe underwater, the one that allowed you to live in Atlantis as if you were an Atlantean yourself, it was obviously special. But what made it so treasured was not the gift it gave, it was the who the gift was from. The ring had belonged to Kaldur’s mother. It had been she, who when King Orin asked for a volunteer, a home for the girl from the dry world, had stepped forward. She had opened her home, and had offered the ring to be enchanted for you. She became your advocate while you lived in Atlantis, she treated you like you were one of her own. When it was finally time for you to return to your home, over a year later, she had told you to keep the ring, “I’d always hoped to pass this ring to a daughter,” she’d said, and you cried as you hugged her one last time.

On Kaldur’s first trip to visit you, merely a month after you’d gone back to Star City, you’d given him a chain. It had belonged to your father, and he’d worn it his whole life. Something that had been gifted to him when he was young from his father, who got it from his father before him. There’s a small pendent that hangs, your family’s crest, just like on your ring, they were a set technically.

You’d managed to enchant the item with your limited ability just in time for Kaldur’s first visit. “It’s meant to be passed to sons. I’d really like it if our histories were intwined. If I’m going to carry such a meaningful part of yours and your mom’s history, then I’d really like if you were to carry this of mine.” As far as you know, he hadn’t taken it off since you gave it to him almost three years ago.

The frown reappears on your lips as you look at the chain, and then at Kaldur. “Sometimes… I wish I was still there. It was easier living with you. There were no secret machinations, just you and me, and Garth and Tulla. I- I was hurting, I know that, but-”

“I understand,” he promises and you can’t help but let out a watery laugh.

“Of course you do. You’re Kaldur’ahm, no one ever seems to understand me as well as you do,” you smile.

“Rest, my friend, you have earned it. Our debrief with the Batman is 0730, however, I suspect he will be here early.”

“0700?” you ask.

“See you then,” he promises, tossing you a pillow and a blanket.

“Thanks, K, for everything,” you smiled, plopping back.

“Anytime, my friend, anytime.”

MOUNT JUSTICE December 31st, 06:30 EST

When you wake up again, it’s to Conner staring down at you with a quirked brow.

“Shit, Conner, why are you just staring at me like that?” you groan rubbing at your eyes.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you yet,” he admits, one hand rubbing at his neck.

“Yeah, I came earlier this morning. Canary and GA were at the Tower all night long. K, sat with me for a while.”

“Well, since you’re here… maybe we can talk about-”

“About your dad?” you ask, staring up at the roof of the cave.

“Don’t. Please don’t call him that. There's so much to figure out, but he’s not… not my dad,” you haven't turned back to him yet, but you can hear the tension in his tone.

“Genetic Donor then?” you offer turning back to him with a lazy smirk before adjusting yourself to lean against the arm of the sofa, tucking your legs beneath you.

“Genetic Donor works,” he sighs, sitting down in the now empty space on the sofa with you.

It’s silent for a minute as you both process, and then you're giggling. Conner’s eyes blow wide, as he stares at you. You cant help yourself though. Your giggles soon turn to full blown laughs, tears forming in your eyes.

“NG… nightingale… (y/n)!” Conners tone grew increasingly harried with each call to you.

“I’m sorry, I- I just… he killed my parents. I’m an orphan… be-because of Lex fucking Luthor, and he’s the only reason you're even here. He’s the reason I’m here!” you’re still laughing.

It has to be some sort of break, your mind finally deciding it's had enough.

That's when the laughs trail off, and you're left with tears.

You stop heaving and you take a deep breath, everything grows silent, you shut your eyes and center yourself. When you open your eyes you're staring at Conner again.

“I don't know how to fix this,” he admits.

You offer him a weak smile as your shoulders droop, “you can't,” you relent and Conner sags back into the sofa too.

“What now?” he asks.

“We be honest with each other, and the team. You and me, we're bonded by something now. I didn't realize it when we freed you from your pod, or when you helped us escape, but we are.”

“Allies against Lex?” he offers, holding out his hand.

“Allies against Lex,” you confirm, shaking his hand.

A not so innocent piece of you takes advantage and reads his emotions. You're reassured by the feelings of honesty, compassion, and belonging. You stare at Conner for a moment before letting go of his hand.

“What time is it?” you ask, stretching out a bit.

“You have about 15 until debrief.”

“Okay, thanks,” you sigh, standing up.

“I’ll see you in the cortex?” he asks, standing up as well.

“Yeah,” you confirm before heading to the locker room.

You're all standing in a line when Batman finally zetas in. You hadn’t had a chance to talk to Rob, or anyone else from the team about yesterday before he arrived.

He starts by asking for a rundown of events. Which we oblige. We explain everything from start to finish, the reveals, the truths, the plan for Santa Prisca. Everything leading up to the moment of Lex Luthor’s escape.

And when all of that is said and done you swallow your fears down hard before stepping forward, “Additionally, after defeating Bane with Robin and Zatanna, when I became aware of Luthor’s escape-”

“She was a little upset, which I’d argue is completely warranted considering everything we found out yesterday,” Wally cuts in, interrupting you before you can admit to how you lost control.

“Yes, but-” your second attempt is interrupted as well.

“Which is why we would like to request that the development of a case against Luthor be a Team priority,” Robin’s the one to cut in this time, proffering an official request on behalf of the team.

You risk a glance at the Team, and you don’t need M’gann’s abilities to understand what they're trying to say. So you shut up, and step back in line, waiting for Batman’s response to the debrief as well as the request.

He doesn't say anything for a minute, and then Kaldur is stepping in, “We have reason to feel proud of yesterday's victories. But one thing has not changed,” he alludes.

“Somehow, the bad guys are still getting intel about us,” Robin offers.

“Yeah, but at least we know none of us are the mole,” Wally counters.

For the first time that morning Batman finally speaks up, “That's correct,” he confirms, and he does so with serious conviction.

You want to be reassured by his confirmation, but something about the whole briefing was throwing you off, and it wasn't the discussion of Luthor.

“The mole,” he begins again, “was Red Arrow.”

Theres a brief silence as Roy’s image is displayed before everyone explodes.

“Roy?” Robin repeats disbelievingly.

“No way!” Wally’s voice had pitched up in his rebuttal.

You on the other hand, felt as the first of the strings holding you up snapped. Kaldur places a hand on your shoulder as if he knew, before turning back to the Dark Knight, “Batman, that cannot be. He was Green Arrow's protégé. We have all known him for years.”

“Unfortunately, the Roy Harper we have known for the last three years is another Project Cadmus clone,” Red Tornado explains.

You have to fight to catch your breath, this couldn’t be happening. You’d known Roy longer than that, you would've realized!

“We've learned the real Speedy was abducted and replaced soon after becoming Green Arrow's sidekick,” Batman explains and you finally step forward.

“No,” the seriousness of the word echoes in the cave. “I’ve known Roy longer than that, its been way more than three years! I would have noticed if CADMUS had substituted my own brother in front of me!” your argument is urgent, something had to be wrong.

“Unless they took a self fabricated opportunity to substitute the clone in a time of chaos. Where Speedy’s patrol partner and closest confidant was… gone?” Batman paints a picture but you're so hyper-focused on the Roy of it all you miss what he’s hinting to.

Theres a sharp intake of breath behind you, when you turn you see Kaldur, his eyes wide as he stares at you, “You came to Atlantis almost four years ago, you were gone from the surface world for over a year…” he reminds you, and you feel another string snap.

“No.”

“You said everyone seemed different, you were different, you were re-adjusting, it’d be reasonable to assume you wouldn't have noticed,” Kaldur’s tone is soft.

“No! Don't you understand?” you shout, turning to the team. “If that's true, it means the riot where they escaped was planned, they meant to cause a distraction, to throw us off guard so that they could switch-”

“Switch their Roy for ours,” Wally finishes, green eyes full of remorse on your behalf.

“And they waited almost year to put that into action, capitalizing off of the disarray of Star City's heroes,” Artemis tacks on.

“I would have noticed!” you argue, voice cracking as you try to reign in your emotions.

“The clone was pre-programmed with a drive to join the Justice League,” Batman intervenes, continuing to provide the information he had at hand. “Which is why he was so angry over any delays to his admission and why he refused to join the Team. This Roy Harper had no idea he was a clone or a traitor. And his subconscious programming drove him to become League-worthy. So he struck out on his own as Red Arrow.”

Your head was spinning, heart beating so fast and loud in your ears, it was a miracle you were still standing up. Something was wrong, something had to be wrong. Where was Dinah and Ollie? If this were true they’d come to tell you in person, they would. How could Ollie have not noticed? How could Dinah? Something had to be wrong.

“When he was finally admitted, his secondary programming kicked in and he attempted to betray the League to Vandal Savage.”

Your stomach flipped, Savage?

“Fortunately, I had already deduced Red Arrow was a clone. We were prepared.”

He had what?!

“I think I’m gonna be sick,” you whisper, Conner and Kaldur seem to be the the only two who hear you as they offer you mildly concerned expressions.

“Savage was subdued but Red Arrow escaped. He is now a fugitive, armed and dangerous,” Red Tornado continues.

“If you guys hadn't rescued me from CADMUS...” Conner trails off, eyes jumping from me to Kaldur.

“What happened to the real Roy?” Rob’s the one to voice the question and your heart stutters. Real Roy as if the one you'd known since your return wasn't real in some way. They were both real, at least they were to you.

“We don't know. He isn't at Cadmus. We have to face the possibility that the real Roy Harper is dead.”

You can't stop it. The bubble of grief, pain, and guilt. It bursts out of you, and of course Kaldur’s the one to catch it. His hand lands heavily on your shoulder, and you take deep breaths to center yourself. They don't know, you remind yourself. He could be alive and on ice somewhere, you repeat. You're forcing thoughts of hope down your own throat, hoping something will be digestible.

The last thing you're expecting is for Robin to grab ahold of your hand, not in front of Batman, and not after yesterday’s incident. Today, however, he doesn't waver or flinch back like he had the day before, so you can't tell if he can feel what you are right now. He simply snags your hand and tightens his grasp, until you're squeezing back.

“The clone Roy. The Team will find him,” Kaldur decides, his tone leaves little space.

Yet, somehow, Batman blows it wide open, “Negative. Red Arrow's a member of the Justice League now. Leave him to us.”

There's an argument forming on your lips, but a beep from his comms forces you to shut up.

“I'm needed on the Watchtower. Tornado, stay with the kids,” Batman decides and Robins hand slackens a bit. Kids? Since when did Batman call you kids?

The zeta lights up a second later, “Recognized, Batman, zero-two.”

You turn and run to the closest bathroom, you can hear as a few people shout after you, but you’re focused on making it to the bathroom. Your knees hit the ground hard as you all but collapse and then your heaving up the little that’s in your stomach. The protein bar and cookies that Conner had swiped from the kitchen for you, the orange juice Kaldur had poured for you, and the the blueberries that you’d scarfed down as well.

There’s a hand on your back, another keeping your hair back. “Wally?” your voice is a hoarse whisper.

“It’s me,” he affirms.

You nod and close your eyes for a second before you’re heaving again.

“I got you,” he promises, gently rubbing circles into your back.

You knew that, Wally’s always got your back. You know he probably didn’t hesitate to chase after to you, and that he most likely told everyone else to stay back. “I would have noticed,” you repeat.

“(Y/n)…”

“I should have noticed,” you say, sliding back, wiping at your mouth and leaning against the wall before turning to your friend.

“That’s not on you,” Wally argued.

“He’s my brother, my responsibility,” you shoot back.

“C’mon, let’s get you back before Rob starts panicking,” he huffs, pulling you up.

“I need to bru-” before you can finish Wally disappears and reappears with the toothbrush from your locker and a tube of toothpaste.

“Your teeth?” he asks cheekily.

You shake your head before quickly brushing your teeth. When you and Wally get back it’s to Kaldur’s awaiting stare. You offer a nod and he turns to face the rest of the team before looking back at you. He gives you a look signifying that it was your move this time, your call. Your stomach’s still unsettled but you swallow down your nerves and confusion before addressing the team.

  “Clone or no clone, Red Arrow was one of us. For three years, he was ours. We will go after him, and we will figure this out, on our terms,” you decide.

  You had planned to say more, but the sudden sounds from Red Tornado force you to stop. He freezes about a foot and a half away from you. Then, it's like he shut down. A sound as if he was being powered down, as the entire armor freezes, and his head tilts down.

  “Tornado!” M’gann’s shout is slightly panicked.

“What happened?” Conner’s squinting.

“He's powered down,” Wally notes, tone slightly curious.

“All functions off-line,” Robins got a frown as well, analyzing Red Tornadoes stats on his wrist-computer.

“Something doesn’t feel right,” you note, staring between the stats as well as Tornado.

“Guys, I'm sensing a low-level mystic force at play. I don't know if it caused his shutdown, but… now that I think about it, I was getting the same buzz off Batman,” Zatanna admits, and your frown deepens.

“Batman,” Robin repeats. “He called us kids. He never does that.”

  You step forward, analyzing every aspect of Tornado that you could, Wally comes up behind you and does the same.

  “Look,” Wally’s call pulls your attention. When he straightens up you can see something in his hands, “One of those bio-tech chips we confiscated off Cheshire.”

“Nightingale is right, something is not right,” Kaldur agrees. “Robin, Kid, Zatanna, Rocket, see if you can get Tornado back online,” he directs. “The rest with me to find Ro... Red Arrow.”

  The team pauses despite Kaldur’s clear instruction, and slowly they look from him, to each other, and then to you. You know why they paused, even Kaldur seems frozen as he stares at you. His decision would put you into the field, it would allow you to look for Roy, to be there when the Team finds him. Going with them would also separate you from both Wally and Dick.

  You must’ve stayed silent too long, “Birdy,” Wally’s voice seemed to echo as he called out your name.

“Sorry,” you mutter, looking up. “Kaldur’s right, we.. uh, we have to split up.”

  Wally and Dick look at each other and then they look at you.

  “It’ll be okay,” you tell them. “I have to find him, my brother, my responsibility. Plus, who knows him better than me?”

  No one has an answer and you nod.

  “Suit up,” you confirm once more before the team nods, and disperses accordingly.

  Wally, Dick, and Kaldur hang back. The three of them don’t speak, but they’re exchanging looks with each other and with yourself. No one says a word, but you offer a look of your own, and then roll your eyes at them. They pause and as always, Wally’s the first to crack. He throws his hands up looking at the two other boys and then gesturing to you. When that doesn’t get the response he wants, he throws his hands up again, waving them around.

You smile softly, hands coming to Wally’s shoulders. You offer a forced lopsided smile, tilting your head to the side. Wally responds by shaking his head, and you tighten your grip. You give him a pleading look, Wally’s face scrunches but he finally stares at you head on. You nod, gently and he sighs before nodding back.

You pass along a feeling of comfort, trying to make him understand that it’ll be okay.

“Yeah,” Wally confirms, before walking off.

Kaldur offers you a nod of his head and you nod back, before he walks toward the bioship.

You pause for a second and take a breath, and then there’s a hand on your shoulder and you’re hit with concern, longing, and a need to protect. You take another breath and turn to face Dick. He’s staring at you for a second, he opens his mouth and then closes it. In the end he stares at you making a closed fist with his right hand and rubs little clockwise circles on his chest. Your ASL was passable, a skill that Dinah and Ollie thought was important to learn for the streets, it seems like Bruce thought the same for Dick. Sorry, that’s what he was saying.

You know what he’s sorry for, you knew it the second he grabbed your hand. You take your right hand, rub a circle with your palm against your chest, and then with a flat hand swipe above your temple with your fingertips, I know.

He shakes his head, the barest of a smile on his lips.

You offer a soft smile at Dick one last time before walking towards the locker room. You’re quick to grab your gear, and you’re silent until your in the bioship, and in the air.

“Old friend,” Kaldur’s voice is soft inside the bioship, but you’re forced to pay attention to him regardless.

“I know what you’re going to say,” you sigh.

“Oh?”

“It’s not your fault, you couldn’t have known,” you trail off.

“Wrong,” Artemis interrupts.

“Am I?”

“Yeah, we were all going to say it,” Conner scoffed.

You soften at that.

“That’s where you’re wrong,” you say sadly.

“How so?” M’gann’s voice is as soft as it has always been.

“Because I did know, a piece of me did, at least,” you tell them, gaze focusing on the clouds as you pass them by out the window.

“What?” Conner’s accusation cuts clear.

“I knew something was wrong. I could feel it. Ever since my abilities… he would get angry, over things he never used to. I just wrote it off, I- I knew it was wrong, it felt wrong, it didn’t feel like natural anger, it was sudden, it was triggered but not by anything I could see. I should’ve said something, should’ve told someone,” you admit to them.

“You had no reason to suspect ulterior machinations,” Kaldur countered. “And though I know it bothers you, you both had grown apart since the foundation of the team.”

“Yeah,” you nod, fingers tracing over the ring dagger you’d been fidgeting with, “maybe.”

WASHINGTON, D.C. December 31st, 09:06 EST

“Logs indicate Red Arrow zeta'd to the Hall from the Watchtower,” Artemis stated, “But he could be anywhere by now, I also was only able to read the Hall logs, the Watchtower ones have been classified,” she adds on.

Kaldur clears his throat and turns to you expectantly, “So, I kind of didn’t appreciate how Roy tried to cut ties with everyone when he went solo, so I might’ve done some digging…” you trail, typing in new coordinates.

“Digging?” Conner asks.

“Okay, fine, investigating, and tailing, and the whole package pretty much. I found his main apartment, and discovered that he had installed equipment caches in several major cities,” you relent.

Conner coughs out, “stalker,” before clearing his throat, and you roll your eyes.

“One is here,” you continue as the bioship comes to a stop over an apartment complex.

“So… who’s going down, because, uh… not it,” Artemis muses weakly.

“I am,” you assure her.

“We are,” Kaldur corrects.

You nod and you both stand, you readjust your utility belt and pull a sweatshirt over the top of your suit, and then you pull your leather jacket on as well. It looks inconspicuous enough, at least as much as it would ever for your needs.

You and Kaldur drop to the roof, the access door was unlocked and you made your way down one floor. Roy had gotten an apartment on the top floor. When you come upon the door you crouch down with your lock picks, but between your latent anxiety, and the need to find Roy, your focus is slightly skewed.

“Perhaps, this is not the time for stealth?” Kaldur offers sagely.

You sigh and hang your head, hiding your lock pick tools in their place under your sleeve once again, “yeah.”

“Shall I? Or, would you like to?” he asks, gesturing to the door.

“I will,” you nod, standing back up.

You take a breath and stare at the door, and then with a heafty amount of force you kick down the door, you manage to put in enough force to rock the door off a hinge, and when it clears your vision you’re greeted by Roy holding up his bow with two arrows notched.

You notice the way his hand dips a second as he realizes it’s you he’s got an arrow focused on, “How’s it hanging, Roy?” you ask, but there’s a tough edge to your tone.

“You know, business as usual, Birdy,” he huffs out, but he retrains the arrows on you both.

“We have not come to harm nor apprehend you,” Kaldur cuts in. “But the Team requires answers-”

“Me first,” Roy interrupts. “Tell me something you haven’t told anyone else… tell me who broke your heart.”

Your jaw drops, “Roy!” your tone is more chastising than it was before. You know why it’s necessary, but it’s a low blow for Kaldur, a very low blow.

Kaldur places a hand on your shoulder, “Tula. The girl I loved chose my best friend Garth over me,” he answers, and you can hear the fight to keep his voice level. “While the man I consider by best friend on the surface world aims an arrow at my chest.”

Roy moves and suddenly both arrows are pointed at you.

“Roy-” Kaldur’s tone turned dangerous, but to your credit your eyes narrow and you tilt your chin up at him daringly.

“E.T. phone home,” Roy says, and you don’t need to touch Kaldur to feel the confusion rolling off of him.

There’s a pang in your heart, Roy, this Roy, was pulling on one of the earliest decisions you all made, code phrases. Methods to promise sanity, self, but also a warning when necessary. They were all movie phrases, famous enough to remember, but mismatched enough that no one would be able to guess. You’d both decided on them after you’d returned from Atlantis and Dinah let you return to patrol.

“Toto, I’ve got a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore,” you whisper.

Roy’s entire body sags. The bow and arrows clatter to the floor as he drops to his knees, and you’re quick to drop with him. You land on your knees right in front of him.

“You’re killin’ me, Smalls,” you whisper once again to him.

“As if,” he shoots back, and you crush him in a hug.

The both of you clutch onto each other, you grip him tight just for the minute being. You hug him tight and he hugs back, and you revel in it. In it’s familiarity. He might have not been the Roy that was brought home to you, but he is the one you spent the last three years with, he is still your Roy. The one who helped you readjust to being back in Star City, the one who would drive you to school, and would tap you gently when you’d accidentally slip back into Atlantean. The one who would reassure you that life was going to be okay, who would sit beside your bed, who would hold your hand, who watched your back, he was your brother. Your brother, your responsibility.

Slowly you both re-centered, and then you hauled him up to the roof, and then all three of you were pulled back up into the bioship. It’s quiet when you’re all back.

“We’re clear,” you say quietly and there’s a collective breath let out.

Everyone settled into their seats and soon enough we were back in the air.

Kaldur doesn’t waste any time, “We were told you were the mole,” he explains and Roy puffs out a breath.

“But we have reason to doubt,” you quickly inserted.

“Forget doubt. I was the mole,” Roy states, and you let out an audible groan, staring up at the roof of the ship.

“Batman and Tornado said you’re a CADMUS clone, like me,” Conner admits.

Roy turns to look at you, and you offer a slight nod, “That explains it,” he nods with a sigh that makes him seem more tired than surprised. “I was a sleeper agent, pre-programmed to infiltrate the League…. I think Sportsmaster was my handler. He had a key-phrase, Broken Arrow… that could shut me down, put me in a hypnotic state to steal secrets for his superiors, or incorporate further programming. I'd then carry out all orders subconsciously completely unaware of what drove me.”

Roy paused and you stared back at him, “take me back?” you whisper to him and he shut his eyes and nodded once more before turning back to the rest of the team, specifically the three seated behind you.

“I think one of those orders was to focus suspicion on the three of you. I'm sorry,” he adds on.

“How did Batman discover this and prevent you from betraying the League?” Kaldur asks.

Roy pauses, and looks at you, “He didn't.”

“Fuck,” you sigh.

“Birdy,” Kaldur’s voice is level, and there’s a request in it to make sure you remain so as well.

“So what happened?” you ask, pulling yourself together.

“The entire League’s been put under mental domination via those chips you guys found,” Roy sighs, scrubbing at his face.

“The ones we got off Jade?” Artemis cut in.

“Yeah, he called ‘em Starro-tech, an alien bio-organism infused with nanotechnology and magic,” Roy explained.

“Nanotechnology and magic?” you repeat. “Artemis, in the Bayou, you said you saw-”

“Klarion, the Brain, Gorilla Mallah, and Professor Ivo,” she answers.

“If there was ever a trust that could pull something like that off…” you trail.

“What do they do? The chips?

“It shuts down the mind’s autonomy, allows the controller to reprogram the individual to suit their needs,” Roy explains.

“Wait…” Conner calls interrupting. “You said He called them, who’s he?”

Roy grimaces, looks around the ship and then straight at you, and you already don’t like where this is headed, “Savage,” he says and you don’t even make it a second before you explode.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” you shout. “VANDAL SAVAGE? WHAT THE FUCK!”

“Language,” Roy says automatically, and then he twitches, like he hadn’t meant to say it. “And I knew you weren’t going to like that.”

“But this chip, it affected everyone?” M’gann asked, and you had no doubt she was thinking about her uncle.

“This Starro-tech, it worked on super-powered humans, four flavors of alien, an android, even Doctor Fate,” Roy explained.

“Defeating all of you without a fight?” Conner asks.

“Indeed. A remarkable achievement. One not easily countered,” Kaldur points out.

“I'm sorry, but how is it that you are no longer enslaved?” M’gann’s the one to ask and your body tenses up.

“No Starro-tech, for starters. Just my CADMUS programming, and once I had satisfied its last parameter, my mind began to clear,” Roy admits. “I'm sure Savage planned to Starro-tech me, but he paused to bask… I escaped.”

You turn in your seat and look back at M’gann, urging her to understand, and luckily, she does. She nods at you with a gentle smile, “I promise, I can clean any residual programming from your mind,” M’gann says, reassuring you, despite the intention being directed at Roy.

  “Linking both squads and de-camouflaging,” M’gann’s voice suddenly echoes in your head and you spot the super cycle as it moves into docking position.

“Great. Because we really need to compare notes,” Robin’s voice has an edge, and as you come face to face with him and the other half of your team, you spot Wally’s frown and notice Dinah.

“What the fuck?” your voice takes on it’s own lethal edge as your gaze jumps from your unconscious and tied up mentor to the rest of the team.

It took some time but eventually both halves of the team had been caught up, now the only think left was to figure out the next move.

  “What if we reverse engineer the starro-tech?” Wally’s the one to make the suggestion and it has all of you pausing.

“Great idea, but how?” Artemis’ tone is dry but she makes a valid point.

  It goes quiet and that’s when you have an idea.

  “ti tha ginótan an rotoúsame ti vasílissa?" (what if we were to ask the queen?) the question echoes across the link but only one person can understand.

Kaldur blinks slowly and in a hesitant tone asks, “*Rota tin gia ti akrivos?*" (ask her for what exactly?)

Your lip quirks a bit, “*an boroúme dioikitís Giatrós V?*" (if we can commandeer Doctor V?)

You’re not sure what you were expecting but you’re not sure why you were surprised, Kaldur’s always backed your plans, “Pistévete óti o Red échei akóma ton arithmó tis Roquette?" (Do you think Red still has Roquette’s number?)

You offer a lopsided smile, “**Tha chreiastoúme óli ti voítheia pou boroúme na pároume**." (We’re gonna need all the help we can get.)

“Would someone like to clue those of us not fluent in Atlantean in?” Conner’s tone cuts through your conversation.

  You share another look with Kaldur.

  “It’s your plan,” he prods.

“Wally has the right idea, we have to reverse engineer the chip. We don’t stand a chance if we don’t,” you remind everyone.

“But you have a plan that will address that,” Robin realizes.

“Of course she does, when it comes down to it, our girl’s always got a plan,” Wally snorts, but by the way he scrubs at his face you realize he’s on edge.

You nod, “what do we know about the staro-tech?”

“Alien bio-organisim infused with nanotechnology and magic… what are you thinking?” Roy trails.

“I think you have the number for a nanotechnologies expert who owes us a favor, and I happen to know a few individuals who specialize in magic and science, in fact they run a whole conservatory, that teaches kids like us, well, like Kaldur,” you hint to everyone else.

“Doctor Roquette and Queen Meera,” Robin realizes.

“Alongside Doctor Vulko, who runs the Atlantean Science Center, he’s the Minister of Science for the kingdom,” Kaldur adds.

“Doctor Spence too,” Connor adds, “She worked for CADMUS, she probably can help reverse engineer the chips.”

“Which means there’s also three people we need to pick up, ASAP,” you point out.

  Another silence fils the ship, Wally’s already shaking his head, and Rob’s still staring straight at you.

  “We have to split up,” Rocket’s the one to state the obvious.

“Again?” Zatanna’s voice wobbles a bit.

  You bite down hard on your lip to keep yourself focused.

  “We have to, the quicker we get them, the quicker we fix this. We have to fix this,” you say, voice level.

“How do you want to handle it?” Robin’s the one to ask, his own voice level, but you can see the twitch in his hand.

Your lips tug down as you prepare to answer, because there’s only one possibility, “Superboy and Miss Martian will pick up Dr. Spence. Kid Flash and Robin will escort Red Arrow-” you don’t mean for your voice to crack but it does. “Will escort Red Arrow and retrieve Dr. Roquette.”

“You’ve got to be joking,” Wally’s scoff, clearly depicts what he thinks of your decision.

“Dude,” Robin’s quick to cut him off.

“And Aqualad and I will take the super cycle to go to Atlantis,” you finish. “Artemis, Zee, and Rocket will play support, and keep tabs on Canary. Please do not lose my mentor. Plus they can run background with RT.”

  You’re met with silence.

  “This is the plan, if someone has a better idea, speak up now, otherwise, you know what you have to do,” you swallow back the anxiety, and focus your gaze on Kaldur, you can’t look at anyone else, not right now.

  You remember his words from earlier, to lean on him, and to allow him to support you. It was all so overwhelming, it’s all too much, but staring at Kaldur reminded you of the little girl who was barely 10 when she was dropped in Atlantis. The girl so full of rage she couldn’t sort through her own emotions. Kaldur knew how to help that girl center herself, taught her how to cope and handle things.

  “Well if no one else is going to say it; I have some thoughts,” Wally scoffs again.

“Trust me, we know you do, Wall-Man,” Artemis’ dry tone actually puts a smile on your lips, a small quirk of a thing, but it works.

“I’m only taking constructive criticism at the moment,” you tag on, and your gaze finally flickers to Wally who is simply glaring at you.

  You offer a shrug in response, and you can feel the heat of Wally’s glare, the discomfort radiating off of Dick, but you don’t have it in you right now to address it.

ATLANTIS December 31st, 13:13 EST

“Our friends are… displeased,” Kaldur notes cautiously once it’s just the two of you on the supercycle.

“I know,” you nod, and you did, you felt it in the air, rolling off your teammates, your friends, as you and Kaldur geared up to split off.

“What are you thinking, poulí?” the question weighs heavy on you.

“I am thinking that this is my only plan, K. I don’t have a back up if we should fail this time around,” you admit.

“Then it’s good we trust in your planning, old friend. Your plans have never led us astray thus far,” he muses.

“Define astray,” you scoff back, Kaldur lets a smile slip, and then a hand lands on your shoulder comfortingly.

“They believe in you, and so do I,” he reassures you. “This idea, utilizing our resources, it is a good plan.”

“Vandal Savage, Kaldur, it’s a big play we’re chancing at here,” you sigh, twisting your rings nervously.

“Yes, and we are making the most educated choices we can. Believe in yourself, poulí, just as we do.”

You nod silently doing your best to absorb Kaldur’s reassurances. Soon enough the Super-cycle begins to descend. It pauses part way submerged, and you reach out with the ring clad finger to touch the water. Kaldur is silent beside you as you ground yourself. You feel the current, the pull of the ocean, and firmly you say, “anapnéo,” the ring made from atlantean metal glows, and then with a tap to the Super-cycle it submerges completely.

The first breath is always a bit nerve wracking, it feels like you’re entirely out of practice, and therefore not prepared to breathe. But you do. You cautiously, slowly breathe in, and when it feels as normal as it does on land your body relaxes.

“pos niótheis poulí?" (how do you feel, Birdy?) Kaldur’s question jars your wandering thoughts back into the present.

“étoimo na cheiristeí ó,ti prépei na cheiristeí ,” (ready to handle what needs to be handled) you assure him and he nods.

Minutes pass and then you are confronted with the city of Atlantis, beautiful in all its glowing magic and technology. You smile at the city fondly and catch the wanting in Kaldur’s eye, this was him home, and for a year it had been your own. The two of you had developed your friendship in this city, it will always, without a doubt, be a very special place for you.

As the cycle passes through the gates and toward the conservatory, you push the melancholic nostalgia away, and do your best to focus in on the mission at hand, there was too much as stake to be distracted by memories of the past. As Kaldur disembarks, you follow, and the two of you make your way into the Conservatory of Magic.

MOUNT JUSTICE

December 31st, 15:42 EST

“So you need us to develop something that will work against, whatever magicked up alien technology that Mr. Big Bad, Vandal Savage is using against the Justice League?” Roquette’s tone was the same as it was when you first encountered her, and you share a look with Kaldur when you both notice it.

“The heroes have come to us for help, should we not so long as we are able?” Dr. Vulko, ever the voice of reason, and forever on the side of progress is the balm you didn’t realize you’d need.

“I agree, this is an opportunity to do good with the knowledge we have acquired over our years,” Dr. Spence’s agreement catches you off guard, but the pride and satisfaction rolling off of SB tells you this is exactly what he’d hoped for.

“It’s simple, Kaldur’ahm and Poulí told us what’s wrong, you’re either here to help, or they can show you the door,” Tulla’s blunt and to the point, and you have the choke down the snort as you stare appreciatively at the redhead, you notice that Kaldur’s doing the same, some things, you imagine, would never change.

You’d all regrouped at the Cave, scientists and specialists in hand. Tulla had been Queen Veera’s contribution and envoy as she could not leave Atlantis without a sane monarch, and especially not in a time where the King had been compromised. Each recruit had been given the details during their travel, but once they were all together, the gravity had seemingly begun to set in. Dr. Rouquette was as vibrant as she had been when you’d first met, despite that though, they had begun a prompt discussion on how the chip works, and a prefatory analysis on the confiscated chip.

  “So do we think this is gonna work? Or should we be considering a back-up plan?” Rocket’s voice echoes though the open link and while the specialists continue their discussions, the team sends knowing looks to each other.

“this is the plan, the only plan,” you tell them seriously.

“Wait, seriously? You always have a back-up?” Artemis’ surprise is evident, and your lips twist down in response.

“Figures, considering her go-to has also been compromised,” Wally’s judgement is clear and your eye twitches in response.

“Sorry about that,” Zatanna’s voice is meek in response, and you catch the way Artemis, punches Wally in the arm, and his accompanying wince.

“So not your fault,” you finally cut in. “And I don’t hear you offering something else up, Wall-Man?” you state bitingly, shooting him a glare at which Wally winces again.

“To be fair, this was originally his idea,” Conner cuts in.

“Semantics,” Robin disagrees, “plus, Birdy’s the one with the connections to make it happen.”

“Gee, thanks, Rob. My genius and l feel so appreciated,” Wally scoffs, rolling his eyes.

“Right, so… back-up plan?” Rocket asks again.

“I don’t know! Short of contacting any non-affiliated heroes, or intergalactic organizations, I’m not sure what else we can do,” you sigh, a hand coming up to pinch at the bridge of your nose, while you work to secure your emotions and constrain your frustration.

“Intergalactic organizations?” Rocket repeats.

“OA,” the response is echoed by Wally, Rob, Roy, and Kaldur, you can’t help but notice this is the first time Roy was participating.

“OA,” you confirm, and then catching the confused look, on Rocket and Zatanna’s faces you add, “The Green Lantern Corps.”

“Oh,” Zatanna’s understanding is soft, as her eyes widen.

“We have a line to them?” Rocket asks, surprise evident.

“…We have potential avenues,” Robin supplies, defending your point while making eye contact with you.

“We do?” Artemis’ question is fair, and you hesitate, but your eyes lock with Roy, and then with Dick.

“Earth has another Green Lantern,” You remind the team.

“Is he not a part of the league?” Zatanna squints.

“…There were some concerns about his attitude and maturity,” Dick supplies cautiously.

“But they let Roy in?” the dig slips from Artemis’ thoughts, and by the look on her face you know she didn’t mean to project that particular thought.

  You can’t help the very audible snort, and a hand comes up over your face in embarrassment as everyone turns to you.

You catch the small smirk on Dick’s face, and Wally’s chuckling a little bit too. And when Roy turns to you, betrayed, you can’t help but start to giggle, and when your avert your gaze, they land on Wally. Which really was the worst move because then you’re both laughing.

“Okay!” Roy huffs. “Laugh it up, Birdy,” he scoffs.

“Sor-” you try but burst into another fit, until you’re practically leaning on Kaldur to stay upright.

When you finally get control, you catch the small smile on Kaldur’s face, and even Roy’s scowl has faded a bit.

“Sorry,” you say seriously, bitting your lip and straightening up.

  “Should we be worried?” Rocket asks, wide eyes on you.

“No, sorry, I just… whew, I needed a laugh, thanks Artemis,” you smile.

Artemis blushes a bit in response, “What were you going to say about the other Lantern?” she prompts, pushing the conversation back on track.

“Right, Guy Gardner,” you share. “Kind of a bully based on Canary’s files, it’s the reason he hasn’t been inducted. But he is a Lantern, and the ring did choose him. He’s based out of Baltimore, Maryland. If we fail here, we just need to get word to him, hopefully he’ll take it seriously,” you shrug.

“Reassuring,” Rocket laments flatly, and all you can do is shrug again.

  “Kaldur’ahm, Poulí, I think we may have come to an understanding,” Vulko’s voice booms across the room, and your head snaps to him immediately.

“What do you need?” you ask, setting your shoulders, as the rest of the team turns to face the brain trust.

THE WATCHTOWER December 31st, 23:16 EST

Infiltrating the Watchtower was not something you’d ever thought you’d have to do. However, somehow, you really can’t find it in you to be totally surprised.

Dinah, now freed from Starro-Tech’s control, along with Roy and Red Tornado had gone in as a distraction, allowing the team to handle the rest. Part of you had been hesitant to let Roy out of your sight after finally finding him. Not to mention Dinah. You’d twitched a little too violently, when she volunteered to go back, and Roy and Dick had both given you cautious looks as a response.

The waiting was the worst though.

You watched as M’gann, Kaldur, and Connor broke through the wall where the Bioship had docked. Robin kept an eye on the alarms and scanners the entire time, covering the Team’s tracks as he went.

Eventually, it was time.

  “RT did it. Wirelessly bypassed security for us as soon as he arrived. Savage shouldn't know we're here,” Robin confirmed, once we’d all regrouped inside the watchtower.

Aqualad nodded, before casting a quick glance at the rest of the team, “move out.”

“Currently tracking five League members between us and Savage,” Robin shares as you and Kaldur begin leading everyone though.

“Which ones?” Artemis’ tone is dubious, even through the link, and you can’t really say you blame her.

“Plastic Man, Hawkman, the Atom, Captain Atom, and… well,” Robin pauses on the last one and you turn back to look at him. “Green Arrow.”

  The team pauses, as they wait for the next move. There were nine of you, which meant almost everyone could double up, almost.

A quick glance at Kaldur tells you he was thinking the same thing.

  “Here’s the plan…” you speak first, “We work quietly and quickly. Take every opportunity to knock as many of the Leaguers out as we can before Savage and his cohort baddies realize what’s happening. Artemis and KF, you two take Plastic Man. SB and Rob, Hawkman. Zatanna and Miss M, the Atom. Aqualad and Rocket, Captain Atom. Leave GA to me,” the team nods, but once again you notice their hesitation.

“What?” you press.

“Are you sure you want to handle GA? One of us can do it,” Wally offers tentatively.

“No. He’s mine. But Rob, I could use a favor…”

  Armed with one of Robin’s recording birdarangs you split off from the group. You’re following your map to where GA’s icon is moving, and periodically you get updates from the rest of the team.

First it’s KF and Artemis.

  “Plastic Man in gassed, and chipped,” you can practically hear Wally’s smirk as he reports in.

  You turn another corner.

  “Hawkman’s chipped too,” Robin reports.

“Probably going to be out for a bit. I might’ve hit him a little too hard,” Superboy admits.

  You pause when you hear Oliver’s footsteps. Spotting the crates, you launch yourself up. Walking on the balls of your feet, you climb up, silently.

  “We got the Atom,” Zatanna confirms.

  You catch sight of a support beam, a few feet above you, and launch yourself up with as much strength as you can muster. You manage to grab hold, and then you pull your body up, until you’re balanced on your feet, walking the beam.

  “Captain Atom is incapacitated, but chipped,” Kaldur’s the next one to confirm, which just left you.

  You pull the chip from your belt, as well as the birdarang. Following Oliver’s path ahead, you toss the birdarang, it lands solidly in the wall.

A beat passes.

And then a second.

And then-

  “Ha, Ha, Ollie, over here!”

  Your giggle echoes down the hall, and Oliver’s quick to turn to the sound.

  “NG, status?” Robin’s voice rings through the link but you ignore it.

  You take your grapple line and wrap it around the support, making sure it’s snug in place, before attaching the line to your belt.

  “Birdy, you copy?” Wally this time.

  Oliver’s almost in position, and so you count.

one.

two.

three.

  You hold your breath as you lean back.

For a second you’re falling, and it’s so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Luckily, the speaker starts again.

  “Ha, ha. Ollie, over here!”

  The recording covers the sound of the grapple going taught.

  “Nightingale, report in!” Kaldur, and he’s serious.

  You get about two seconds before Oliver realizes the birdarang’s what’s making the sound, and you’re suspended in the air, halfway between the ground and the support beams of the Watchtower.

The chip, which you’d been flipping around your finger’s is poised between your index and middle fingers, and right as Ollie turns, baring the side of his neck, you toss it. You throw it the way Dinah taught you to throw a shuriken.

The balance had practically been the same.

It hits Ollie and there’s a second when he turns to you, arrow drawn.

And then he collapses.

You tug on the grapple cord and it slackens. You land on your feet, twisting the cord back into your grapple as you walk up to the downed Green Arrow.

  “GA’s chipped,” you finally say, tuning back into the link.

“We’re not splitting up anymore,” Wally says quickly.

  You roll your eyes.

  “Don’t be ridiculous, KF-”

“You didn’t answer us!” Artemis cuts in.

  This time you scoff.

  “They have to realize by now,” Robin speaks up.

“He’s right, we need to move. Zatanna and Miss Martian, you two head for the dock Zeta, Rocket and I will join you,” Kaldur decides. “The rest of you head up.”

“On the way,” Zatanna confirms.

  You’d started making your way back up, sticking to the support beams as much as possible, so far, you’d avoided any further League interactions.

  “That’s Dr. Fate, Icon, and Captain Marvel taken care of,” Zatanna speaks up, and you pause for a second.

“Too bad Cure-tech doesn't work as fast as Starro-tech. We could use these guys,” Rocket huffs, and your lips quirk up, she’s not wrong.

“It is a small miracle Queen Meera and Doctors Roquette, Spence, and Vulko were able to re-engineer a cure and vaccine at all,” Kaldur reminds her.

“And their combined 8 PhDs,” you muse.

Before anyone can respond to your joke, KF interjects, “If you guys aren't busy...”

Your breath catches, but Kaldur’s already on the move, “On my way. You three rendezvous with Robin and Superboy.”

  You pick up your pace as well, and are only partially paying attention when Zatanna gives her confirmation.

  “Uh, I'll be right behind you,” she offers.

  You manage to arrive at the main deck in time to Batman hit Robin.

  “I am so not turbed,” is how you announce yourself, as your jump down from the level you’re on, using your grapple to loop down to the one where Robin is.

“Yeah, me neither,” he promises.

  You’re on your feet in time to fall in step with both Superboy and Robin, both seem to be smarting a bit after taking on Batman and Superman, understandably.

  “We're not gonna beat them one-on-one,” Robin finally announces.

“Plan B, then,” Superboy confirms.

“And I thought my contingencies were drastic,” you manage to joke out before taking Connor’s hand.

  Conner grabs a hold of you with one hand, and Robin with the other. Using his strength he spins you both, before launching you one after the other at Batman.

You land first, grabbing a handful of his cape to pull him with your momentum.

Robin’s body crashes into you both a second later, and then the three of you go into the wall. You can feel your bones rattle from the impact, but when you slide down, you manage to grab a hold of a chip as Robin hold’s Batman steady.

You place the chip, before changing your stance to drop into a roll. You pop up on one leg, escrima sticks in hand, and Robin lands crouched beside you.

You barely have a second to catch your breath before you hear Superman and Superboy go into a wall of their own.

You both take off and you hesitate when Robin reaches to his belt.

“You sure about this?” you ask as you both run up to them.

Superboy manages to grunt out a, “Just do it!” as he strains to hold Superman in place.

You grab hold of another chip while Robin opens a box.

The green light reflects off their faces, and you watch as it seems to drain them both. Conner and Superman both start sliding down, neither of them fighting anymore as they go.

As soon as Superman falls, you’re quick to place the chip, and once you do, Robin’s shutting the lead lined box tight.

You sit back on your ass and let out the breath you didn’t realize you were holding, turning back to check on Conner, who was pulling himself up to sit against the wall beside you.

He lets out a groan, looking at you and then at Robin, “Ugh. Kryptonite… hurts,” he admits, and you can’t help the scoff that slips past your lips.

It brings a smile to Robin’s face though.

“Which is why,” he begins, offering a hand to Conner. “Batman keeps it in an overwhelmingly impenetrable vault at the Batcave,” he explains, pulling SB back to his feet.

“Overwhelmingly impenetrable, huh?” you smirk up at the two.

Both boys smile down, offering you a hand.

“Well, more like a whelmingly penetrable vault,” Robin corrects.

You snort, taking their hands, and they’re quick to put you back on your feet as well.

“Let’s go. Vandal Savage awaits,” you remind them, and the two nod at you, before the three of you take off toward’s the main viewing deck, where the main Zeta point was for the Watchtower.

Unfortunately you get there just in time to watch Vandal Savage, Klarion, and his familiar, Teekle, disappear through a portal. Wally skidding into where they had been not even a second before.

You redirect yourself over to where Dinah and Roy are unconscious on the floor.

Wally whizzes up to you and grabs your spare de-programing chips, placing them on the leaguers who were up here, before sliding back up to the rest of you.

“Congratulations, Team. You have won the day,” Red Tornado announces, and you let out a tired chuckle at the thought.

None of you have an opportunity to respond though, because in the next second, a holoscreen appears.

“Happy New Year, Justice League,” the computer announces.

You don’t catch what Wally said, but when you turn to him, he’s holding Artemis, and they’re kissing.

Your lip twitches up, and then Connor and M’gann too.

“I’m liking this Team more every day,” Rocket decides, smirking as she kisses Kaldur’s cheek.

You roll your eyes and gag at Robin and Zatanna, both of whom smother their laughs. Zatanna looks away as she tries to keep her composure, but Robin stares back at you.

“Milkshakes?” you mouth to him while no one’s watching.

“Definitely,” he mouths back.

“Human customs still elude me,” Red Tornado announces in response to the kissing, and you can’t hold back your snort.

THE WATCHTOWER January 1st, 00:42 EST

It took some time, but eventually the Leaguer’s began to wake up, and slolwy they all arrived back in the entry deck.

“Everything I thought I knew about myself was a lie. I'm not a hero or a sidekick. I'm a traitor, a pawn,” Roy’s tone was low, dejected, in a way you’re not sure you’d ever heard it.

Dinah reaches out, placing a hand on his arm, “Roy, it'll be all-”

You wince when you watch Roy pull back from her. Bitting too far into your lip and tasting blood.

“I'm not Roy! I don't know what I am. All I know is I need to find the real Roy. I need to rescue Speedy,” he counters.

You’d been too anxious to sit when everyone else had. electing instead to stand across the table from Roy while Ollie and Dinah took the seats on either side of him.

“We’ll help you. The team I mean. And if not, then I will. We’ll find him,” you cut in, licking over your split lip.

“Guardian is already searching Cadmus,” Batman add, reassuringly.

Ollie had been unusually quiet.

“We should take Ro- Red Arrow, home, at least, for now,” Dinah decides.

You caught her slip up, everyone at the table probably did, but no one commented.

“Of course, all four of you can go,” Batman nods.

You catch the tonal shift, and you hesitate.

You’re not sure you would’ve noticed it if not for the rest of your abilities, but you know there’s something else.

“I’d like to stay,” you announce and everyone turns to you. “Just for a bit,” you backtrack, “I want to make sure the Team’s set, and I need to speak with Aquaman about how we deconstructed the chips,” you expound.

Roy looks like he wants to bolt, not that you balme him.

Ollie’s holding himself stiffly.

Dinah looks a little queasy at leaving you here on your own.

“I’ll be fine,” you reassure them.

“I’ll escort her, to Arthur, and then back to the Zeta’s,” Batman offers, and you notice as Dinah realxes, but only a little.

“Not too long,” she adds, though it’s perfunctory, you can tell.

“Promise,” you nod.

She smiles once more at you, weak and strained, before she and Ollie take Roy toward the Zeta’s

You wait until they’re through before you turn back to Batman. Robin and Kaldur had taken the seat on either side of him, and the four of you were the only ones left in the room.

Your hands land on the table with a loud smack that echoes thorough the room, and all three sets of eyes shift to you.

Yours, however, are focused on Batman, “Something else is wrong,” you say.

You’re not asking, you’re not, because you know.

Batman hesitates, looking to Robin for a second before turning back to you, and then nodding.

“The entire League was under Savage's spell for just over a day,” Robin begins, sharing a holoscreen with you. “We've accounted for most of that time. But these six went missing for a full 16 hours we can't account for.”

You stare at the screen. Batman, Superman, Green Lantern; John Stewart, Hawkwoman, Wonder Woman, and Martian Manhinter.

Powerhouses, all six. Each in their own right, different skills, different tactics. It’s terrifying to think what they could have accomplished for Klarion and Vandal Savage in sixteen hours, the implications were limitless.

“Sixteen hours,” Batman repeats, “what did we do?”

STAR CITY January 1st, 02:04 EST

It’s another hour or so by the time you make it back to Star City. You’d talked with King Arthur, shared with him how you and Kaldur had gone to Atlantis, and that Queen Meera had been appraised. And then you’d circled back to the cave to shower and change.

It’s two in the morning when you make it home, and frankly, you’re surprised to see Roy still up.

Dinah and Ollie weren’t around so you assumed they’d gone to bed. They probably thought he had too.

“Hey,” you greet lamely.

“Hi,” is all he offers back.

You drop your gym bag down by the door, and replace the lock before walking over to the sofa. You drop down beside Roy, but you leave a healthy space, not wanting to crowd him. You turn, tucking one leg under you, so that you can face him better.

“I know it’s a stupid question, but I’m going to ask anyways,” you begin, but he doesn’t look at you, focused instead on something just past your head. “How are you?”

He lets out a snort, but it’s dry, and sad, and you can hear it for what the answer it offers. Stupid question.

“I don’t know…” he says after a minute of silence. “But… I don’t really know anything anymore,” he adds on.

You bite on your lip again, wincing when your teeth make contact with the split lip you’d forgotten about.

“Fair,” you offer, agreeing.

“It’s fine,” he huffs, shrugging you off.

Your eyes narrow at that, it was a lot of things, fine isn’t one of them.

“Roy-”

“Don’t call me that!” he hisses, and you pause.

“Okay,” you concede, swallowing thickly. “What should I call you?” you prompt instead.

“I- I.. I don’t know, just.. I’m not Roy Harper, I’m not!” the last words come out as a sob, and you flick the piece of you that wants to give him space the recesses of your mind, scooting closer and wrapping an arm around his middle the best you can.

“How about Red, at least until we figure it all out?” you offer instead.

“Stop,” he cries. “Stop being nice, and understanding, I replaced him!” Roy’s voice is low, and sad, and you know he wants to make his point, but seems not to want to wake up Dinah or Ollie.

“She’s asleep so I’m going to say the bad words she tries to keep me from using,” you begin, delighted when it gets a wet snort out of the redhead. “But fuck that,” you say seriously, and he snorts again.

Finally turning to look at you, though he’s stuck with it, seeing as you’re practically pressing into his side.

“Look, I’m not blaming Ollie but I’m sure as shit not blaming you either. And I think it’s okay to acknowledge the fact that what you went through in the last few days has been harsh. That it was thirty-one flavors of traumatizing. God, Red! I’d be a fucking mess if it were Dinah coming after me, but it’s not your fucking fault or theirs!” you huff out.

“You owe Dinah at least $20, for just the last minute alone,” is all he says in response.

You scoff.

“Look, Roy or not, you’re my brother too. You have been for the last three years, and just because you’re a clone, it doesn’t make it less true,” you say seriously, and he goes quiet.

You let out a long sigh.

“You should get some sleep, tomorrow’s gonna be a long day,” you finally offer after the silence stretches.

“Yeah,” he huffs, standing up.

You stand after him, tugging him into a tight hug, that he doesn’t seem sure of how to respond to.

“Goodnight, Red,” you say gently.

“Goodnight, (y/n),” he whispers, before peeling you off of him, and walking away.

STAR CITY January 1st, 10:22 EST

You slept horribly.

The worst ever, actually.

Okay probably not, but it was still pretty bad.

The light at the end of the tunnel where the two hours of no questions you’d managed to wrangle out of Dinah.

You were already in a booth when he walked in.

Sat with your eyes closed, leaning against the linoleum seats, and when the overhead bell of the entry door rings, you blink them open in time to see Dick find you.

You offer him a muted lazy smile, and he gives you one in return.

“Hey,” he greets.

“Hey,” you say, sliding down.

He takes the invitation, settling down beside you instead of across from you.

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence. It seems you both were talked out after the events of the previous day.

Eventually, Mrs. Lenetii brings out a milkshake for you both, cooing over you, before siappearing to take care of another table.

Your head lands on his and his fingers interlace with yours.

“Bad night?” he asks after you’d both been ignoring your milkshakes for too long.

“yeah,” you nod.

“Yeah,” he repeats.

Slowly you lift your head.

You’re close, the two of you. His face is right there, his lips.

He’s staring at you with the wide blue eyes, and you wonder if he’s suddenly as nervous as you were.

You thought of Wally and Artemis at Midnight, of M’gann and Conner, even Rocket. But they were all older. You and Dick were the youngest on the team. It had never felt like it more until right now.

“Um-” he stutters out. “I… uh.. Can I?” he trails off.

“Have you.. ever?” you question back.

Neither of you have moved apart though.

“No,” he admits. “You?”

“No,” you share.

He offers you a shy smile, and it’s the first one in almost forty hours that doesn’t feel strained.

When he tilts down, you move up. There’s no fireworks. And your noes’ bump, and you giggle. And then your teeth clack, and he laughs. It’s awkward and kind of strange, and not at all what the movies make it sound like it’ll be, but it was your first kiss, and it was his too, and it tastes a little like the chocolate and strawberry milkshakes you’d both been sipping on, and all of it together makes it kind of magical in an of itself.

No matter what happened next, what came next, you had Dick, and you knew he had your back.

everything tags: @butterfly-skinnylegend

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[junnylunny]

Cafe Owner ˚

! synopsis: you specifically order two matcha lattes every morning for your boss. however, one day, the cute café owner's kind gesture breaks your repetitive schedule and begins a new chapter with him.

! word count: 722

=======================

you hurriedly got in line, relieved to see the short line in front of you.

"next in line, please," a familiar face welcomed the customer: it was the café owner.

a week ago, the café opened on the first floor of your company. in contrast to the past cafe's unpopularity, employees rushed to get a cup of coffee and especially a look at the café owner's face. his charismatic smile could only attract more customers, warming the café, with his built figure defining more clearly as he poured the drinks.

despite also finding the café owner cute, your daily mission was to get back to your desk with two iced matcha lattes in your hand; one for you and your boss.

you looked down at your watch to check the time: 8:30. you had exactly 30 minutes before making your boss cranky- which was the absolute worst.

"i can help the next person," the owner's eyes lit up as he called for you next.

you walked up to the register, being welcomed to a smell of warm coffee from him. 

"hi, how are you?" he greeted you with a charming smile.

"i'm doing well, how are you?" you asked back.

"i'm doing well too," his direct yet gentle eyes made you freeze as he looked down at the screen to input your order.

"would you like your regular today?" he asked, wanting to confirm despite it being your daily order. you stayed silent, your eyes not wanting to track off his face.

"two matcha lattes?" he looked up from the screen after your silence.

"um, yes please," you embarrassingly smiled. you looked away, wondering if he just saw you as the girl who only ordered matcha.

"and order for y/n..." he muttered as he plugged your order and name into the system. hearing him mutter your name, you couldn't help but look at his name tag: jay, you quietly said under your breath.

"yes?" he said, looking puzzled.

"oh, no. sorry," you awkwardly laughed. embarrassed he heard you. "you have my name memorized but i think it's the first time i've ever seen your name tag," you said.

"no, i understand. i see you're always in a rush, and i couldn't miss a regular customer" jay laughed. "and you know what, i'll have your drink covered today."

"what, are you sure? i use the company card anyways,” you looked puzzled at his kind gesture.

"yeah, i'm sure. it's on me." jay assured you.

"okay, thank you," you thanked him.

although it was nice of him to pay for your drink, you were curious to whether or not this occurred to other regulars. is he interested in me or am i reading the signals wrong? you thought to yourself.

anticipating to be discouraged with his answer, you shyly asked, “do you usually do this for other regulars as well?”

he laughed at your question, finding it silly. “not at all.” a small smile appeared on your face, making you feel special, even if it wasn’t true.

"your drink will be out soon," he said. you nodded and left to wait at a table.

within minutes, he came with a tray with your two drinks and a small packaged cookie. "here's your order!" he placed the tray down carefully. "the cookie is for you so don't forget to eat it."

"thank you. i needed this." you said, appreciating his thoughtful gesture.

happy with your response, jay gave you a genuine smile and left to go back to work. as he left, the corner of lips raised as you curled your lips in. unable to hide your smile, you grabbed the cookie and saw the note attached to it.

"i see you come to the cafe every morning and i think you're really cute. i want to get to know you better! i was wondering if i take you out on a date today after work if you have time. :)"

you looked up from the note to look at him working behind the counter. he noticed you looking at him and raised 7 fingers, mouthing the words, "is 7 pm okay?"

you nodded, happily agreeing to the date. you looked down at the note one more time, anticipating that maybe, you weren't going to find ordering two matcha lattes as a chore anymore.

=======================

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

On the discussions of leadership and leona finding fulfillment in the future, i’ve always found the times he’s stood out most in twst to be when he is mentoring someone. Subtly, never giving people answers but guiding them towards them, using language and examples they understand. We see it with ruggie, jack, jamil, all of savannaclaw and so many other characters.

which gets me thinking: what if leona becomes a teacher? he’d get the acknowledgment for his skills and ability he needs, but also be able to help improve sunset savanna by educating and equalizing the playing field for the next generation.

Ruggie’s dream got me thinking about it and now i can’t get it out of my head as a possible route to where he can get the things he ultimately needs to thrive.

Relevant posts: [ Does Leona need to be king to be happy? / Would Leona be a better king that Falena? / Catching up with him in book 7 ] [My thoughts on the book 7 part 11 Leona update is here!]

I agree that Leona tends to shine when he’s in a leadership or mentorship role to younger students! This occurs multiple times over, both in main stories (notably book 2, 3, 6, and 7), vignettes (his Camping Gear, Epel’s Union Jacket, etc.), and various voice lines (typically from younger students remarking on their admiration for him). He's actually really good at explaining things to others in a simplistic enough way and with realistic examples that slot neatly into their worldviews. I don't know that I would call it "subtle" though, there have definitely been times where Leona just outright tells others what to do or what's wrong with their way of thinking (mainly with Jamil in book 6, or ordering around his fellow magift/spelldrive team members). I think when you say "subtle", it's more like Leona has a way of leading others to acting in his favor, as he can occasionally have his own ulterior motives in imparting wisdom. (For example, he helps out the first years with mining for magestones so he can nap without being disturbed.)

Mmmm… I do think the idea of Leona as a teacher is interesting, but I don’t know if that would feasibly work. I think we as the players can appreciate, say, the NRC staff, but in reality teaching is often a thankless job where parents and/or the school board will blame you for students not performing. You also need to put in several (unpaid) hours of work outside of class grading, preparing lessons, going to meetings, etc. I don’t know that he would be satisfied with “grunt work” like that. I think he’d also have to go back to get his masters/teaching license, which means more studies 💀

I also think the scale of teaching is too small for Leona���s ideals. Yes, technically your lessons will have a continuous or long-term impact because your students might then graduate and go on to change the world thanks to your teachings. But, in my opinion, it better suits his grand ambitions to be the one establishing schools and then leaving others to run those institutions for him; he’d have a much larger impact (and more immediate results, which is what Leona is after) that way, similar to how it is portrayed in Ruggie’s dream. A single teacher, by comparison, can do little to change the system for the countless people who need it (for example, the starving children in the slums). Additionally, it’s easier for Leona to control his own projects as some higher authority, whereas it’s not do easy for him to control what students do once they leave his tutelage—and for Leona, bring in command is important (he had no vice dorm leader because of this).

I also have to wonder if teaching is really the right field for Leona to get into…? I think people often confuse “being good at something” with “liking something”. This is also true of many fandom depictions of Leona; fans tend to claim he’s just “being tsundere” when he acts grumpy around his juniors other nephew Cheka and that he secretly harbors great love for kids. And while I do love me a wholesome take, I just don’t see that 💦 His official profile states his pet peeve is “dealing with kids”; why would objective information from an official profile be a lie? His annoyance seems pretty consistent and genuine when he is assigned some kind of babysitting-adjacent task, and he acts like he would rather not if given the choice but has to anyway in order to avoid graver consequences for himself, a dorm leader. I don’t think he would want to intentionally sign up for a job that means he has to put up with kids on a daily basis—and especially rebellious teenagers that won’t necessarily do what he tells them to.

I guess the comparison you could make here is Crewel, who also seemed to be wild in his youth and also seems to dislike children and disobedience—yet somehow he changed careers from fashion designer to science professor. He had a lot in common with Leona, so I think it could be argued that Leona could still potentially go down the teacher path. If I recall correctly, Leona has also tutored Ruggie and helped him achieve okay grades in present day—so Leona has a track record with teaching. We don’t know for sure what could happen; a lot can change and the future’s unpredictable! But for now, I definitely still think Leona’s ambitions wouldn’t stop at just teaching classes; he’d want to do way more.

… Imagine the insanity of having a literal big-boobed PRINCE as your professor though 💀 I don’t know if I would be able to concentrate properly in that lecture…

[blurbofparadise]

This is so nice!

I sure wouldn't have 500 billion dollars for long, but I would have a lot of fun while it lasted!

I'm pretty sure that's enough money to buy politicians, so I would be able to do that and get some things fixed, like the Healthcare and educational systems. It would also be good to pass through a bunch of laws to protect the most vulnerable people in our society, such as LGBTQ, lower income individuals and families, womens rights, the unhoused, and at risk kids. Boom, funded.

This also would be enough money to start making pensions a thing again, and I would really like to work on bringing those back. And also making it a thing that partners receive benefits as well. That can be very important, especially for non heteronormative families.

There would be so many environmental issues I would want to fund, from protecting water and land to requiring clean ups and changes in operating procedures from big polluting corporations. I would like to also support organizations that are preserving endangered species, especially sea turtles because those are my favorite, but also the equally important but perhaps not as glamorous species that don't get as much now.

I would like to support the organizations that are regrowing the coral reefs, I think that's cool as hell. I would support research into new techniques for protecting the ocean, including new sunscreens that wouldn't be toxic to the reefs and trash cleanup projects.

I would also like to support organizations that are switching to biodegradable options for things like forks and take out containers. And I would like to get some better labeling on them so they are safer for people with food allergies.

I would like to end slavery and put in place global human rights. I would like to make sure everyone has access to reasonably priced Healthcare that covers both emergencies and preventative everyday care. I would like to bring down the maternal mortality and infant mortality rate, as so many of those are completely preventable, with money.

I would like to support the ongoing research into the AIDS vaccine, and make it available at no cost once it is ready, to slow and perhaps even stop that epidemic and provide hope for future generations.

I would like to create affordable housing, and bust up the corporations making excessive profit at the expense of humans who simply need a place to live, and who leave those who can't afford the cost to die in the streets.

I would abolish the for profit prison system that perverts justice and makes profit off the suffering and destruction of human life. I would abolish the legalized slavery of prison labor.

I might be out of money at this point, but I have so many ideas. So many things could be fixed with money, we live in a modern era and the solutions are right at our fingertips, just behind the paywall...

I have nothing to post right now I'm just laying in bed and I'm so sleepy

I hope you're having a really great day today, and that you have a lovely night sleep tonight. remember to always be cozy no matter what you're doing and drink some water also

also I hope you get five hundred billion dollars, I think it would be really cool if you got five hundred billion dollars and I want that for you

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

Hey batman, I’m wondering what should be the impetus for me getting a fresh full panel of STI tests. Unsure if it’s relevant but I’m transmasc nonbinary on T, I have a perisex vagina/uterus system. I can be a liiittle hypochondriac with my anxiety so I want to make sure I’m reacting adequately (not over or under) to the risk of STIs.

I’ve heard of people doing like tri-monthly or before every partner. I have very sparse and sometimes spontaneous encounters so I feel like I don’t usually do enough to warrant regular interval testing but I also don’t often plan ahead far enough to get a whole doctor’s appointment. And like,, what stuff do I need to do to warrant a test?? If I just want to make out with people and maybe give some protected head with a condom or dental dam, is that… enough? I don’t plan on letting someone touch or penetrate my genitals, certainly not unprotected, without us becoming more acquainted and probably both testing. Should I be worried about even just kissing randos?? I know it’s /possible/ to get oral stuff by kissing but how likely is it? What do people /actually/ do?

My doctor is suuuper cool and chill about all of this but there’s also all the nurses and stuff I can’t account for and it’s so embarrassing to ask so I’m hesitant to do it if I don’t have to. And like,, is my insurance going to see how often I get STI tests and judge me??

I have no frame of reference how worried I should be for all of this. Any insight would be super helpful and reassuring!! So sorry if I’m majorly overreacting I just want to safely live my best slutty life 😅🔥

hi anon,

the ideal time to get tested if you want accurate results is about two weeks after having sex with a new partner.

it is, and I cannot emphasize this enough, entirely up to you what litmus test you want to use to decide when it's worthwhile to get an STI test done. not having penetrative sex lowers your risk! using a condom for oral sex is a great protective measure, which will be effective at preventing the transmission of STIs around 85% of the time. kissing is generally considered a very low-risk activity, but it can transmit syphilis and probably (this is a pretty new find! very exciting!) gonorrhea, which will both require treatment, in addition to the nearly ubiquitous, virtually harmless, and and incurable herpes.

point being: as Dr. Devon Price says, there is no truly risk-free sex.

and it's up to you to decide how you want to manage the risk that does inevitably arise from intimacy while you live your best slutty life.

re: your second to last paragraph: there's actually nothing embarrassing about seeking healthcare, and your insurance company's opinion about the number of STI tests you get is completely irrelevant to this conversation.