#but like I called him out and he sorta backtracked

[slowdive1994]

lmao I met a homophobe yesterday

[kittyhui]

“we should stop” trope with cheol

no smut, just suggestive MDNI

content tags: mutual friends to lovers (???sorta), cheol is a smoker (dont smoke..), reader is introverted, mentioned alcohol use, making out, being a bit freaky outside, cheol is hot

meeting your friends’ friends always had your introverted head reeling. “do i have to go?” you whine to jeonghan, one of your closest friends.

“no but you really should leave the house, y/n” he laughs. he was right. it was only a small get together at joshua’s (your other friend) apartment, it would only be a few other people, “you’ve met most of them anyways. plus you can stay with me and kyeomie as long as you want” he smiles at you as you finally agree to coming along.

…

surprisingly, it wasn’t as bad as you had thought. even though it was getting tiring dokyeom pulling you to meet all the people you haven’t been introduced to before, it was manageable.

“oh! i almost forgot” dokyeom says, looking at you, “you need to meet, cheol” he grabs your arm again, walking you over to another person youve never seen before. “coupsie!”

you watch as the man dokyeom calls for turns around, red hair looking like fire around his head, arms looking oh so delicious in the black shirt he was wearing, and his lips; god his lips, looking cherry red like he had just bitten them so hard they bled. he looked so intimidating with a scowl on his face, until he looks at kyeom and pouts.

“i told you to stop calling me thatttt” he sulks, lip jutting out. he finally seems to notice your presence, raising his thick brow before speaking again, “is this your friend you were talking about?”

“im sorryyy, the name is so cute, cheol. but yea! this is y/n!” dokyeom introduces, your face heating up with nervousness at the redhead staring down at you.

“hi. nice to me you…” you murmur, extending your hand for a handshake. what you didn’t expect is for him to take it and pull you a little closer to him.

“sorry” he laughs, “what did you say.. its too loud in here” you repeat yourself, stuttering over your words, before he finally pulls away, hearing the complains from dokyeom about cheol ‘teasing his friend’. “I’m seungcheol by the way. most of my friends just call me cheol tho. i prefer that.” you smile again before dokyeom pulls you away again to meet someone else.

….

the rest of the night went by smoothly, and now you finally had the chance to slip away from all the noise and step outside for a breather after having a bit too much to drink. the summer breeze felt refreshing compared to the heat coming from the apartment you were just in and you could finally take a deep breath in, admiring the night sky.

“too many people in there for your tastes?” you jump at the sudden voice, turning to see the red haired man from earlier, “sorry! i didn’t mean to startle you. it’s too many people in there for me too, if that makes you feel better” he smiles at you, before turning back to face the sky, putting a lit cigarette to his lips and inhaling the smoke.

“you know thats bad for you, right?” you say, backtracking when you see his eyes widen and him beginning to burn it out, “no its fine! i dont mind.. sorry im bad at small talk” you look down at your fingers, playing with them, still feeling his eyes on you.

“you’re cute.” he laughs. he takes another inhale from the cigarette before sitting on the steps of the apartment building. “sit with me” he pats the concrete next to him, signaling you to come.

as you sit close to him, you can smell the mix of smoke and his cologne on his clothes, the scent of them seemingly driving you insane, the alcohol running through your body making you scoot even closer into him, as if to try and smother yourself in the fragrance. “you smell really good” you say without thinking, immediately burning hot in embarrassment at the reality of what you just said. he turns to you, laughing loudly.

“thank you, cutie.” he smiles, looking into your eyes, “and you look very pretty. thought that since dokyeom introduced me to you. was trying to get you alone but hannie was protecting you like a mama bear.” you laugh before his words sink into your brain.

“what- what did you want to do when you got me alone?” you question, eyes looking him up and down. you were beyond close to each other at this point, you had practically one leg draped over his thigh, and you could feel his hand on it, steadying you a bit.

“you know what i wanted to do.” he says, eyes shifting towards your lips before looking back into your own, “i can still do it now.. if you’d like.” you only murmur a faint ‘yea’ and his lips touch yours, hands cradling your head, pressing you closer and closer together.

your mind sobers up a bit, realizing that you were currently outside, in front of your friends house, kissing a guy you met barely an hour ago. “we. should. stop.” you breathe out inbetween kisses. you know you don’t want to stop but your left brain was screaming at you to think logically.

“we- can. stop. if you want” cheol slurs out, lips kissing the corner of yours, a smirk resting on them. the moment you shake your head, he pulls you onto his lap fully, having you straddle his thighs. “you’re so pretty..” he sighs out, lips gliding down your neck, sucking a few times, leaving marks in their wake. your hands rest in his fiery locks, combing your fingers through them every so often as he pulls whines out of your mouth.

“cheolie…” you sigh out, grinding lightly on his thigh, testing the waters. he groans at the sight, pulling you in for another kiss before- ring ring ringgg

“fuck-“ he groans looking down at his phone now long abandoned along with his burnt out cigarette you didnt even realize was gone, “its shua. hold on, pretty. yea. uhhuh? oh. oh okay- okay bye.” you try to listen in but your attempts were futile. he hangs up the calls, lowering his phone and putting his hands on your waist. “‘m sorry, pretty. soonyoung is currently um- puking his guts out in a bedroom.. i’ll spare the details, but i have to help shua clean the mess.” he sighs, looking at you with guilty eyes.

you look at him a bit disappointed but nod, slipping off his lap. “its fine, cheol. go deal with that.” you smile and he smiles back before kissing your lips wetly once again.

“give me your number first. just incase i don’t see you before you leave.” he shyly speaks again, opening his phone again for you to type in your number.

“alright, here” you say, finishing up your contact information. “text me whenever.. now go! there’s vomit for you to clean” you giggle as he stands up and rushes inside again.

finally standing up again yourself, your legs feel like jelly as you walk into the apartment again, spotting jeonghan and dokyeom on the couch. “hey” you say as you sit down next to them.

“oh my lord, we were wondering where you were.” jeonghan say before looking at your state and gasping, “you look a mess? who were you with??” dokyeom laughs as your face heats up again.

“n-no one..” you splutter, biting your lip remembering the man you were just with. they roll their eyes at you, whining at the lack of details you were spilling as a ping comes from your phone.

Unknown Number

Hey. This is Seungcheol.

Want a ride home?

you can hear your friends gasp, obviously reading your messages at the same time.

You

yea :) would love that <3

you send your response and jeonghan nudges you teasingly, “seriously, choi seungcheol? that loser??” all you do is smile dumbly, excited to see him once more.

[writefightandflightclub]

Blorbo thought of the day #7

Call me: (feral!Steven Grant x fem!reader)

Summary: Steven needs you. What else is new?

Genre: pwp, established relationship

Author’s note: ya seemed to enjoy feral!Steven getting sucked off and so… I brought him back. So, here is Steven just being all out needy and desperate for you… at the most inconvenient of times. (Dashes of Marc.)

Warnings: masturbation (at work), phone sex, sorta dirty talk.

MINORS (and ageless/untitled blogs) interacting will be blocked. 18+ only

“I’ve got a bit of a problem,” Steven breathes through the phone, and you immediately note how his voice sounds alarmingly wobbly.

In response, you pace just as urgently to your office, seeking privacy, and keeping your voice hushed as you swerve through the corridors. “What is it? Is everything alright?”

“Mmhmph. I need you.” His voice is quivering now, and it only adds to your sudden, spiking concern. ���So good to hear your voice, I…”

“Okay. Okay, Steven, I can be there,” you reassure without a second thought, clicking your office door closed behind you and scanning your desk for your car keys. “Just tell me what happened.”

“Oh. Oh, no. I’m fine, love,” Steven backtracks. “I don’t want to worry you. It’s just. It’s just that I… I need you.” His emphasis on the word need is a little bratty. Almost petulant. Stretched out, low and slow.

Oh. Oh it’s like that, is it?

You plonk yourself down into your office chair, with relief that he’s okay. And then, it doesn’t take long at all for you to reframe the conversation so far. To rethink the breathiness and tremor in his voice.

You recognise it.

That desperation.

That want; the pleas normally delivered into your skin, your throat, your arousal, spoken in between obedient swipes of his tongue.

“Oh, you do, baby? Well, I need you too, Steven,” you purr, voice hushed - as though someone else in the building could possibly hear you, even though you’re relatively sure that would be impossible. You slam the lid on your laptop shut all the same though, just in case you somehow initiate a video call against all conceivable odds. Then, licking your lips, you think up something tantalising to offer him, and it doesn’t take you long. “Just wait until later, baby. I’ll take all of you in my mouth until-“

“-No.”

“No?” But he usually likes that.

“No. I can’t wait,” he pleads, and the neediness in his hoarse, fractured voice has you pulsing with your own want. Squeezing your thighs unconsciously together. “You’ve got to help me. Please.”

“Fuck. Where are you?”

“I’m downstairs. In inventory.” You bite your lip. Steven hates that room. His need must really be a problem if he’s willingly taken himself down there. Out of sight. He must really be driven to distraction, and God, the thought of him working himself up behind that gift shop desk - with no possible hope of relieving himself - makes you feel some kind of way.

“Are you alone?”

“Of course I’m alone. I’ve had to lock the bloody door, haven’t I? I’ll get blimmin’ arrested if I walk around the museum with this in my trousers.” Your mind short-circuits a little at the thought of his bulging arousal. “I’m just so… uhhhhh. You have to help me, love. Can’t stop thinking about you and your beautiful body and I…” he huffs a punched breath into the receiver. “I need you.” The plea sends a warm honey melting through you core, and you can’t help but tease the pad of your finger along the centre seam of your trousers, enjoying the pressure against your now aching clit.

“Mmmm. Are you all hard for me, Steven?”

“Y-yes,” he flusters, and you can imagine his pretty eyelashes fanning against his cheek. “Aching. I thought hearing your voice would make it better but it’s… even harder to… concentrate on anythin’ else…”

Fuck.

The effect you have on him. How open he is with his want. Some men would be derogatory about how earnest Steven is, you’re sure. Personally, however, you find a man who knows what he wants and who isn’t afraid of it so endlessly hot. Especially, of course, when what he wants so badly is you.

Thinking quickly, you unfurl your headphones from your pocket, plugging them into your phone and leaving it on the desk. If you’re going to make Steven come, you want it in surround sound. And, of course, you might just want your own hands entirely free, after all. “It’s okay, Steven,” you soothe, voice smooth as silk and dousing some of his urgency. You hear a relieved exhale sound into the shell of your ear. “I’m going to help you, baby boy. Don’t worry. I’m here.”

“Th-thank you.”

“Good, Steven. Now. Can you… can you take yourself out of your pants?” You fight now to keep your own voice level, your chest heaving slightly - getting worked up for him too.

“Wh-what? Here? You can’t be bloody serious. Donna would have a-“

“-Yes. Right there, Steven,” you say more firmly. “It’ll be okay. It’ll be good. Can you do that for me?”

You can tell that he doesn’t have the will to argue. That he wants this. “O-okay. One sec. I’m gonna-”

You vaguely hear the clink of a belt buckle being loosened. Imagine that you hear the crank of a zip. But you most definitely do hear Steven’s muffled groan into the receiver, which lets you know - with certainty- that he’s now gripping his aching, weighty shaft in his broad, warm hand.

Tension hangs taut on the line, and his voice comes back little more than a whisper - which somehow fills your head all the same. “What now?”

“Move your hand, Steven. Up and down that thick shaft of yours. Really slow. Don’t rush.” Steven is breathing so hard that the sound crackles through your headphones, like a rumble of thunder in your head. “Are you hard, baby boy? Tell me.”

“‘M so hard.”

“Feel tender?” Steven’s in the most sensitive cock you’ve had. You think of the way he jerks and bucks against every touch. The way the flushed head of him throbs. The gusts of breath which billows out as his hands twist in the sheets. As he tries to stave off his end and fails. As you make him come over and over, just the way he likes, until he’s made a mess of himself, load after load covering his toned stomach. Edging him and milking him until he can’t take it anymore - and still, he begs you not to stop.

“Mmmmhmmm,” he hums affirmatively.

“Most sensitive cock I’ve had, aren’t you, my sweet thing?”

His breath and his voice are shaking now, fluttering against the receiver like fragile bird’s wings. “Y-yes. Only for you. Make me feel so g-good.”

“Mmm, Steven. Fuck. You’re making me all wet at my desk, do you know that? Keep touching yourself for me. Don’t you dare stop.”

“Won’t. Can’t stop. Anything you say.”

“That’s good, sweet boy.”

“W-will you… will you do it with me? Can you? Please.” The words are being squeezed out of him now, the way the circle of his fist must be squeezing down on his shaft. Gripping himself hard. Rolling his palm over the sensitive head of him, spreading that leaked bead of slick over his flushed, veined length. “Need to hear you, darling. B-been thinking about it all morning. The way you moaned into my ear last night when we made you cum. Like an angel, so beautiful. Keep thinking about you touching me. Making me give you everything, love.”

You can’t be blamed, can you, for popping the button on your trousers. For slipping them down around your ankles beneath the desk so you can part your legs just enough. For dragging your knickers aside just enough to skim a finger through your heat, finding it sensitive and slick. “I’m soaking, Steven. All wet for you. Do you want me to touch myself? Is that what you need?”

“Yes.” The man sounds broken. Levelled by want. You think back to how shy he was when you’d first gotten to know him. When he’d never had anyone touch him like that. About how quickly all of that unravelled as soon as you had gotten your hands - and mouth, and heat- on him.

“I’m going to put a finger inside of myself now, just for you.”

“No,” he counters.

“No?”

“Two. Spread yourself open.”

“Fuck. Okay.” You slip two fingers inside of yourself and you find that your cunt swallows them eagerly, so ready to be filled. “Still touching yourself for me too?”

“Yes. I wanna…”

“What do you want?”

“Wanna be good for you.”

Hnnng. From the bashfulness in his tone you can imagine the crimson flush creeping up his neck and reddening his cheeks all too well. You wonder if, with your words, you can make him blush more deeply again, even if you aren’t there to see it. “You are good for me,” you purr, and his breaths grow more ragged, the sounds coming hard and fast through the headphones. “You’re so good for me, Steven. So handsome. So beautiful. Touching yourself so well. Going to give me everything, aren’t you?”

“Mmmhhhmmm.”

“Use your words, baby boy. How does it feel? Tell me.”

“N-nothing like you,” he stutters. “But f-feels good. Feels n-nice.

You moan too, as you pulse your two fingers inside your heat, curling them and gathering up your dripping juices. Steven moans too as he hears your own sounds filter through the phone, and you can only imagine the glassy-eyed, pussy-drunk look washing over his face.

“So beautiful,” he gushes. “Want to be inside you.”

“Steven.”

“Again. Please.”

“What, baby?”

“Touch yourself, and say my name again. Please. Not anyone else. Need you all for myself.”

“Who’s a greedy little thing today, hmm?”

“Yeah. I am. Don’t care. Want you to be all mine. Need you so badly. Please.”

His broken, cracked apart plea breaks you, and you relish the pressure and glide of the slick pads of your fingers as you circle them against your wanting clit. “Steven,” you suspire, and that’s a wrecked sound too. You realise then the state you’re in, his brazen want inching you towards your own precipice. Dragging you over that edge with him. “Fuck, Steven, you’re going to make me come at my desk.”

“Want you to. Need you to. Please.”

“Are you close?”

“I’m going to make a mess.”

“Mmmm. That sounds delicious.”

Steven submits some broken apart syllables to you then, unable to get his words out.

“What is it, baby boy?”

“What should I think about when I…?” He huffs out a taut, loaded breath, and you know it signals that he is close to his end.

You increase the pressure and ministrations of your own hand, thinking about him doing the same. Thinking about how, if he were here, he could so easily glide the swollen head of him inside you and pulse himself into the depths of you. “Think about opening me up on your cock, Steven. Think about-“

That’s enough.

That’s enough and Steven’s blissed-out noises fill your head. You slip your fingers back inside of yourself as you picture him spilling himself over his own knuckles, the slight look of awe and surprise that always settles over his pretty face when he comes undone for you. You thumb at your clit and it’s enough. More than enough as Steven’s breathy noises punctuate each relieving pulse of his cock.

“Yes, that’s it, Steven. I’m coming now too. Fuck, baby. So good for me.”

Shit. You’re coming hard. So hard that you buck yourself against your own hand. That you screw your eyes shut as his disbelieving moans fill your head, right in the shell of your ear as though he is next to you. The sensations explode out through your whole body and you shudder with aftershocks, nervy and shaking, and sitting in a pool of your own juices on the sticky, faux leather office chair.

You relish it. Stay silent for a moment as you listen to Steven squeeze out every last drop. Wring himself dry. You enjoy each little nuance and variation of his ragged breaths right in your ear. All his little noises as he comes down, increasingly slow instead of urgent. Calm and sated rather than distressed. “Mmmm,” he hums as you curl your fingers inside of you one more time, the sound drawing a final, blooming aftershock from you which seeps warmly through your core. “Thank you, love.”

“Better?” You smile softly, feeling sleepy and cosy, despite it being the middle of the day. Despite being in your goddamn office.

“Much, thank you. You’re a goddess, you know?”

“So I’ve been told,” you smile, thinking of the man who has met actual deities and still sees fit to address you as such. It makes you feel special. Continues the warm buzz emanating through your body.

“Are you all gooey now?”

“I’ve made quite the mess,” you giggle.

“Me too.”

“Can you clean up?”

“Think so. Mostly went on the wall, thankfully. Bugger - there’s so bloody much of it.”

“Just couldn’t wait for me, baby?”

“No, angel.” There is a beat, as Steven’s feral state recedes, and his unfortunate thud back to reality begins. “Oh god, you weren’t busy when I called, were you, love?”

“Nah. Was only in a meeting with Royce. The twatty foxhunter prick?” Steven hums to signal he remembers. “Trust me. This was much more fun.”

“I’m glad. I’m gonna have to go though, love, I’m so sorry to dash.” You glance at the clock. He doesn’t have long left of his lunch break. “I love you, so much.”

“I love you too, Steven.”

“See you later tonight, yeah?”

“Bye, baby.”

You feel blissed out as you prepare to hang-up the call; however, something prevents you from doing so. Another, even more unexpected voice on the line.

“Wait. Don’t hang up.”

Marc.

Your stomach churns pleasantly, wondering if he’s been listening to you. Maybe even watching Steven. “I’m here. Been missing you.” It’s been a few days since he fronted.

“Good. ‘Cause it’s my turn next. How’s that little clit feeling, princess? Can it take another thrashing?”

“Jesus, Marc.”

“What? Getting Steven all worked up like that… Think you don’t do the exact same thing to me?”

“Mmmmph.” Words fail you right now, honestly. Sometimes, you truly can’t believe how lucky you are. “Alright. Tell me then. How can I be of service to you, Marc?”

“First thing’s first. Send me a picture of the mess you made.”

A dark smirk blooms over your mouth. “I will if you will.”

There is a beat. You hang on his every word, until he responds to you. “Copy that. But you’ll have to get me to make one first.”

Well. You might be in the office, but today, you really love your job.

[carbonh1ck4]

Divergent is the worst book I have ever read, and I couldn't get past the second book

The factions are dumb as shit and I haven't a clue how those were made. "Ok, you're 16 now, time to leave your family and choose between smart, brave, self-hate, honesty, or happy and kind farmer!"

Like, what? Oh, looking in a mirror, wearing bright clothes, doing things you enjoy, having birthdays, all prohibited because it could make you actually like being alive? Crazy shit, how does that even get incorporated into a government? Bullshit, selfless faction is definitely the dumbest.

Honesty makes sense to an extent, I guess? Not really the strongest personality trait, like, what? Ok I guess? You don't lie, good job, good work.

Happy and kind farmer, you get to just be happy! And kind! And you get to farm! This is all fine and dandy, farming is important! But, does being kind have anything to do with this? To an extent maybe?

Brave. Just, jump off trains with blind faith that no one is lying to you about the net. Go to war. What do they even fight? Like, why is the city so cut off from the world? What is with the rest of the world? Maybe they answer that in later books, but ehhhh. We're coming back to this one.

Smart. Yeah, advancing technology is important, but it's so... Broad? Like, smart, learning, knowledge. Do they have it split up more? Tris' brother went here, what was he learning? Idk, also seems sorta reductive, is this just like choosing to go to college in a way? I guess.

Back to the Dauntless faction, it's so weird? Let me backtrack.

Tris chooses to go to the edgy ballsy faction at 16,has no family, friends, or self respect (she comes from the self hate faction), and also not really a personality (for easy marketing and projection!) She meets a guy only two years older than her, but he also is highly regarded in the new society she lives in for being having four fears, and being called Four. He's her teacher and really buddy buddy with the faction leader. No, definitely no power imbalance.

Also, I didn't like reading about her anxiety and fear about being intimate with him. It just, didn't sit right? Especially since I read this in 6th grade and with the definitely their power imbalance, even if it wasn't used against her directly, still there. Gross.

AND it was one of her six fears, which a bunch of grown adults were giggling about. Wow, 16 year old scared of intimacy. Haha, funny Tee hee. Gross-er. Somehow, even more icky.

Also, dauntless is just so.... What are they protecting the people from? Do they state that out later? And, if they're protecting the people, shouldn't they be outside the city with the farmers? Wouldn't they intermingle more? The farmers would be in the most danger and are pretty god damn important, and would probably make the dauntless seem less... Child torture-y? "This teenager is disobedient! Start throwing the knives!" This also makes no sense. Like, yeah, ok, throwing weapons at the children will make them stop flinching away from weapons being thrown at them because they want the weapons to stop being thrown at them. Wtf.

I liked the farmers. They made sense and weren't gross at all. Just, yeah, kindness and farming! Yippee!

Also, they just ship 16 year olds off to different factions to potentially never see their family or anyone they know again? Like, why? Doesn't make sense.

I don't understand how a government like this could even be formed. It blatantly would never work long term, and I sorta wanna know more about the world outside of the city and about how this society and government formed, because it makes zero sense. It doesn't seem like there's some sorta threat or societal collapse that led to them completely reshaping society?

Anyway, piss poor book series, piss poor romance, piss poor world building. 0/10, hate that shit, gross

[launching-a-thousand-ships]

Kurt Glee Rewatch: Theatricality

We deserved more Kurt singing in Gaga songs, just saying.

So, obvs I love Carol but I do find this scene kinda weird? She knows how difficult it was for Finn when she first started dating Burt so why didn’t she have a private convo with him first? Could’ve given him time to process. But then, that’s not entertaining TV.

Also, v small note, but when Kurt mentions the tuna crudite, Burt corrects himself to use the correct term. V subtle change from before, when he wouldn’t really bother (the Maria bonnet before lol). Just thought I’d point it out. He’s already trying...

And why does a house with 2 (and a half) bathrooms not have another room? There are more bathrooms than bedrooms lol.

Def feel bad for Finn here, prob could’ve handled it better. Also, don’t see Kurt as really crushing on Finn at this point? More just excited, trying to make things work. Also def blinded by the thought of getting to redecorate lol.

Theatricality and Funk were switched when aired so timeline is of Vocal Adrenaline is weird but... oh well.

How dare VA do Gaga when that is his identity (and yet he only got to do 2 Gaga songs, blasphemy)

This always makes me think of the story of Chris Colfer meeting Lady Gaga and saying ‘Nobody’s talented but you’ lol

Love Kurt’s reaction to the assignment. Hasn’t been this hype since Madonna.

Kinda side-tangent but oof, Finn, casual homophobia is showing.

First off, he says they’re always doing what the girls want to do?? No?? They do what Will wants. Maybe he means Madonna but a) that was Will inspired by Sue and b) that was bc the guys were being sexist asses.

I do like the idea of bringing in different types of theatricality but would be interesting to have the whole club do both kinds, maybe do Gaga one week, Kiss the next. And oof, the way Finn says ‘except for Kurt’ here bc of all the annoyance he has at the situation... yikes. Trouble ahead.

aw, Kurt and Tina allowed to be friends. Enjoy it while you can, not much time left.

Not gonna lie... not a huge fan of Kurt’s outfit? Maybe it’s the wig giving rococo vibes? Idk, fits with his usual fashion of being hella covered up, but eh. Heels are iconic tho

And damn, the way he talks back to the jocks. And how he tries to sorta backtrack, to just defending Tina. Prob less confident when it comes to just defending himself.

It was made as a big deal in s2, like Kurt wouldn’t have stood up for himself witout Blaine’s courage text but Kurt’s been calling them out all along?? Or maybe by s2 he was more beaten down and unwilling to do anything.

Also, kudos to Azimio for knowing what crepe paper is.

I cannot even with this number. I mean, we get Kurt, Santana, Mercedes, Tina(!) singing lead and freaking rocking it! Wish they got to sing together more often.

And the dance and Kurt getting to use his lower register and just. Lowkey better than numerous competition performances. I love this so much.

Wtf is this reaction to one of the best songs they’ve ever done? Esp you Matt, We know nothing about you but I expected better. Ugh, finn and puck complained about not wanting to perform gaga, fine, but you can’t even support your friends and appreciate a freaking amazing number???

And ofc when the boys perform these guys are all hella into it. Bc they support their friends and are able to appreciate a good performance. Oof.

Jeez, Tina and Kurt are going through it this ep. Why is no one else getting grief? Is it bc the other girls are cheerios? What about Rachel and Mercedes? The lack of adult supervision in this school is astounding.

This look of pure derision Kurt throws Finn... why I think the crush is practically gone at this point oof.

Kurt has spent so damn long working to accept himself, to build up some confidence to be who he is. And esp now that he has acceptance from his dad, the only opnion he cares about, ofc Kurt has no desire to ‘blend in’. 

“It’s just a moist towelette!”

I mean, I was also struggling with Finn trying to wipe off make-up with a dry paper towel like dude. And Kurt prob wants to just comfortably hang out with another guy, but Finn freaks the fuck out. Back in Ballad they hung out pretty closely and Finn never said anything and legit hasn’t called Kurt out on any of it yet. Kurt had been very intense before, but here Kurt is being casual about things.

Kurt kicking the chair slays me. He learned it from Finn. 

Omg this room. Like, lowkey, I’d love to have a room like that, but also.

We saw Kurt in his Mellencamp phase. We know he knows how to ‘butch’ things up if he needs to. Also, this is nothing like any of his past aesthetics and nothing we ever see again?? His style is very modern, usually more sleek and monochrome. I feel like this room was made way more extra to incite the argument cuz like. Wow. I do appreciate the privacy partition, Kurt trying so hard.

Omg this scene. How Kurt was really sincere in trying to make something finn would like. And then the turn around to sadness, embarrassment, regret. Legit a million emotions on his face.

The way Finn is shocked when Kurt starts shouting. Lowkey we don’t see Kurt shout often, normally he goes for cutting remarks etc. Kurt is def in defensive mode.

And when Finn starts using the f-slur like damn. And how Kurt barely reacts to it bc he’s used to the word being used against him (tho never before by Finn) and he prob still feels guilt about the crush and about the room oof.

Then Burt Hummel. Omg. I love how he calls Finn out like ‘you weren’t talking about the blanket, you meant it towards Kurt’ bc yes.

And Kurt jumps to Finn’s defense bc he’s used to being bullied. He’s upset it’s from Finn, but it’s not super out of the ordinary

And Burt calls Finn out like, you won’t use the n-word, the r-word, but you’re totally fine using that slur? 

And how Burt brings it back bc he was the same when he was a kid. Kurt being gay prob had Burt thinking back on all the crap he’d say with his friends and he has lots of guilt over it.

And how Burt says he thought Finn was this ‘new generation of man’ and honestly, that makes me so upset that we barely see anymore Kurt and Finn friendship after this until like. Furt. And after that, even less. And they lowkey don’t give Kurt any male friends (until Elliot, which is nice but ofc he’s also gay).

After all this, and the stupid ‘predatory gay’ trope they gave Kurt earlier, it would be cool to see Kurt getting to be friends with straight guys without it being a big deal ugh. I’ll rant more in Duets tho.

I do think the last scene was when Kurt’s crush officially died. Finn was no different than every other bully he’d dealt with. At least he’s eventually able to forgive him and accept him as a brother tho.

“My balls keep falling off” “I’ve been there” this line kills me.

Kurt’s reaction to every bully: “go ahead, hit me” like boi

Also, I love the quiet ‘oh my god...’ when he sees Finn bc. Ya. Same. Love the speech, and kinda love that even tho Finn is giving this intense speech, he doesn’t clarify ‘my brother’ or ‘my friend’ bc he doesn’t care what the others think. This is just about making it right with Kurt.

And Will appears after this and... no check in with Kurt. Doesn’t go after Karofsky and Azimio bc they were about to beat a kid up. Like... dude. 

This is why I rewatch omg. Kurt pets Finn’s shoulder, and when Finn does it back Kurt immediately waves him off like ‘don’t touch the costume’. Lol.

Also, how tf did Finn make this costume.

[delicrieux]

corpse husband... 👀 could I get a soft pastel aesthetic reader playing among us with the group and being absolutely terrible at it. maybe like she sees him kill someone and doesn’t say anything or report it and he follows her around to sorta protect her from the other imposter? at the end she asks why he didn’t kill her and he says it’d be too easy but ofc someone’s gonna make jokes and be like “no you’re just a simp” idk i think that’d be funny? you dont have to tho- no worries

⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡author’s note: we love pastels and corpse in this house. we love the “i’m helping cuz u cute” trope. we love the public simping. gotta stan this request

masterlist.⁀➷｡˚⸙͎۪۫⋆ ༄

There is a long list of things you’re terrible at, and Among Us is at the very top. But besides your lack of prowess at the game, it is perhaps luck you should curse, for what you have just witnessed will send you into the afterlife: Corpse’s little black astronaut murdering Rae in cold blood. You still by your keyboard; out of the corner of your eye, you see he chat going nuts. The stream just got ten times more interesting.

For a long few seconds neither of you move. You’re not exactly surprised Corpse is the Impostor, it’s just that you desperately did not want to get in his way - you’re bad enough at this game as it is, and trying outmaneuver the master at this game of chess? Impossible. 

Shrugging, you glance at your camera, “I ain’t see nothing.” Before, in-game, you promptly turn on your heel and glide to the other side of the map. Corpse follows. You start sweating, “Noooo, I swear I’m not gonna snitch, please spare me, sir. I swear on my” You idly tap your cat headphones with your hand, “-only prized possession. And my plushie collection.” He’s still trailing after you, even when you hop into Navigation. Turning to the chat, you ask, “Guys, how do I telepathically convey to Corpse that I’m not going turn him in? No one tell him, though, that’s cheating.”

“girl, start manifesting” one comment reads.

“Oh, manifesting, okay. Saw that on TikTok. I also heard it’s like a big thing in LA.” 

You’d imagine that if somehow you were actually transported to the cool chamber of a dying spaceship, cornered by a black figure with devil horns blocking your exit, you would probably start crying. But you’re safe in your little stream room, decorated in fairy-lights and soft colours and even softer blankets. That initial primal fear of having nowhere left to run lingers, though, and you gulp.

A meeting is called and you breathe out a heavy sigh of relief before unmuting your mic, the first to chime, “What happen--No! Rae! Who killed Rae, fess up now!”

“Well, maybe you killed Rae!” Sean exclaims, and even if you can’t see him, you instinctively know he’s pointing a finger at you. 

“It wasn’t (Name).” Corpse says smoothly, “We’re together.” He backtracks quickly, laughing anxiously, “Uh--In game, I mean.”

The conversation rages on, though you’re forgotten, which is a small reprieve. Corpse is quick to frame someone else and everyone agrees to vote. Momentarily you can’t believe you’re betraying your fellow crewmates and wonder why you’re doing it exactly. To make an entertaining stream? That’s definitely part of it. Charlie is flung into lava and you know it should’ve been Corpse but you’re having a bit too much fun to care.

“nooooo!!!! they corrupted her!!!! our sweet baby is on the villain arc!!! RIP”

You hope not mentioning what you had seen transpire minutes prior will dissuade him from killing you - he still could, but he’s just standing by the door, watching your movements. You decide you will only figure it out once your back is turned to him, whilst doing your tasks. Apprehensively, you get to it and--

Nothing happens.

Once you’re finished, you run circles around him. He joins in soon. The olive branch had been accepted. You grin. Rush out of Nav and he, once again, follows after you. 

The game continues like this, you doing tasks and he hoovering by your side like some little guardian devil. You almost forget that he’s the Impostor until he murders Sean right in front of you. You slap your hand over your mouth. Did Stockholm Syndrome kick in already? He self reports and his first words are, “(Name) and I found a body in Weapons.”

You aren’t sure how much your betrayal aided the Impostor victory, but you were the only survivor left between two serial-killers. Your chat spams celebration emoticons and fake-deep monologues about living in a society. While you were an unofficial Impostor, your audience single-handedly decides you were the best one.

It’s all laughter and apologies from your part to your slighted teammates, though even they have to admit it was a good game. Everyone agrees to play another round, but before it can start, you just have to know, “Hey, Corpse?”

“Yes, (Name)?”

“Why didn’t you kill me?”

“Oh,” He mutters, a small chuckle following after his words, “it would’ve been, uhh, too easy, I guess?”

“Lies.” Sean interrupts, “It’s because you’re a fucking SIMP!”

The discord call choruses “SIMP SIMP SIMP” in surprising harmony. You sit in your chair, giggling, smiling so brightly your cheeks start hurting.

“Guys, come on--” Corpse says, sounding like he’s smiling, like he’s got his face covered with his hands, like he’s embarrassed; he laughs - it’s a light, pretty sound, “I just wanted (Name) to have fun. And not be killed by Sykkuno.”

“Wait--” Sykkuno pipes up, “So you just...followed her around the map?”

“...Yeah.”

“Oh my God, you stupid simp!” Sean laughs, “(Name) was there when he killed me, I was so confused why she didn’t say anything because I figured she was the other Impostor, but turns out he just kidnapped her. Don’t worry, (Name), we don’t blame you for betraying the crew. You did what you had to do to survive.”

“It’s the her seeing Corpse kill me and pretending she’s blind for me.” Rae snickers.

“Wait a fucking minute,” Charlie says, “you mean to tell me, (Name), our little pastel princess fucking peach over there, saw Corpse slitting your throat and fucked right off, and then lied like a grade-a-politician during the meeting? Who killed Rae fess up my ass, you all are saying Corpse played us like a fucking fiddle but it was actually (Name) the whole time.” You hear a smile in his voice, and somehow feel a surge of pride, “(Name)--” He’s cut off by Sean trying to interject but quickly shushes him with a few choice words “Jesus fucking Christ, shut up, I’m trying to figure something out. (Name), did you or did you not use Corpse for protection?”

You’re giggling; you can’t control the sporadic giddiness mixed with light anxiousness, “I just...I just didn’t want to die!” You exclaim. More laughter.

“I rest my case, she’s a fucking wolf in sheep’s clothing, it’s always the nice one’s that stab you in the back for the fuck of it.”

“Guys,” Corpse says, “guys, guys, guys...Let’s play another round?”

“Yes”es are exchanged like trading cards. Before long, your screen lights up and you gape at the word IMPOSTOR written over you little astronaut standing right next to...Corpse.

You grin: if the last game was crazy, this one will be straight up insane.

.

hope you liked it! xx

.

[ooooo-mcyt]

I have a feeling Grian is gonna be gunning for Scar now. And absolutely not in a "You didn't give me a life and im mad 😠" way. In a Jilted Ex Here To Fuck Up Your Life way.

I mean I have zero doubt that there's lingering resentment from Grian to Scar over last season. The sense that he did everything for Scar and gave up his other friends and prospects to get dragged out into a desert with nothing. The hurt and rage spurred by that betrayal in the finale that Grian didn't get an opportunity to really fully vent out or address.

Possibly even moreso I have no doubts that there's lingering affection and devotion from Grian to Scar over last season. Yeah he said that it doesn't count. But he clearly didn't mean it. In episode one, Grian made multiple very noticable slipups in counting Scar as a friend/ally before stammering and backtracking as he realizes he's not. In episode one Grian hardly takes it seriously when he gets a life from Scar, playing off the accusations of swindling as if they were silly (and, well, they sorta are. scar himself was already planning life scams, he would have realized what grian was doing, and he took it fairly lightly, eventually brushing it off and commenting that there's no better person to protect one of his lives. all in all i would hardly call that a trick?) and he seems genuinely honest to god upset when he loses the life, not because he's yellow, but because that was Scar's life. Later on when he coaxes Mumbo with sand there's something off in his tone and his attention seems to float away from Mumbo- he seemed to be moreso gauging Scar's response- and something in his demeanour audibly hardened at Scar's (possibly double meaning) comment about how sand is overrated anyways. Grian brushed off any suspicions and follows Scar when he coaxes him off his horse only to be swindled. In episode two Grian rushes to help Scar in the nether, putting himself, a yellow lifer, in one of the most precarious positions possible and trusting that Scar wouldn't take advantage of it. Then Grian follows Scar home giggling about how Weird it is that he gravitated towards Scar so easily while making no moves to leave. And while he waves his new friends over as soon as they arrive, he still follows Scar. He sticks by Scar till he's revealed as the boogeyman. Even after Joel's failed trap, Grian has no suspicions on Scar and panicks as Scar falls into the trap and nearly dies, clearly worried about him. Grian trusts him until he kills Mumbo. Grian asks why Scar didn't kill him and seems almost...oddly unsatisfied by the answer. Going into episode three Grian rushes to offer Scar an alliance. Episode four continues with this and dear GOD that forest scene was like. Heartwrenching. Actually.

There's a common theme of Grian trying. Searching Scar's demeanour, following him, creating situations in which they're together, offering alliances.....and being rejected. Completely unable to make a dent. He takes Scar's comment about him being the most trustworthy person to hold his life seriously and is genuinely distressed when he loses Scar's life only for Scar to not react much and regard the exchange as swindling as if the lowkey soft "there's noone more capable <3" interaction didn't actually have any weight on his end. Grian slips up and acts as if he's on Scar's side as well as bringing up sand (a clear reminder of their shared past) only to have it shut down under a very thinly veiled double meaning about how overrated sand is (or at least it would easily have been read as a double meaning given how grian was scanning scar's behaviour and his demeanour seemed to harden after that). Grian gets off his horse when asked and it's stolen. Grian trusts Scar and he turns out to be the boogeyman. Grian dares to ask why Scar didn't kill him and it's a logistics issue regarding Grian being a yellow lifer. Grian follows Scar around, lingering near him in ways that are barely disguiseable as normal behaviour 'since my friends aren't here' and Scar never takes the obvious bait being laid out to gauge his feelings. Grian offers alliances, offers to leave all of his new teammates behind, to be partners again, and yeah its part of a deal but Scar has six-seven lives- Scar has so many lives he's SELLING them- and Grian sounds so obviously and genuinely desperate and hurt when he's brushed off as not having a good enough deal (the forest scene in the most recent episode crushed my fucking heart oh my god i don't know if scar doesn't realize or doesn't care but that hurt). He's rejected. Over. And. Over.

He's quite possibly replaced as well. Scar grabs a four-legged herbivore with a dumb name and some random green lifer and drags em' off to build a house on a mountain and try to get leverage over the other players and oh doesn't that get across the message well that Grian was just so damn replaceable? I highly suspect that Grian's choice to kill Yellow Snow was super driven by that. Scar rejects him at every turn but he'll have to really see Grian if his horse is on the line. But it doesn't even make a dent. And it's not that Grian wants to see Scar sad or scared but it's so much better than this stranger act and the level of emotion that woulda hit him as Scar shrugs and walks away...? Unreal. U n r e a l. There was so much put into Grian's line, "So nobody cares about this horse?!?" So much anger and an odd amount of hurt. It wasn't about the horse. It's not hard to get a life in other ways and even if there was no other way Scar could have been bluffing and even if he weren't bluffing a horse is a valuable asset that's better kept than killed and Grian's never been so explicitly impatient that his frustration would overwhelm him over such a minor setback if it didn't mean more. Grian has ample reason to feel....replaced. In some weird way...partially by the damn horse. The damn horse that Scar didn't even care about and dismissed as easily as he dismissed Grian. And oh boy do I suspect the level of overflowing frustration that lead to him so unflinchingly cutting that rope came from a pretty uncontainable hurt and anger over the fact that Scar seemed to look right through him and got over the replacements for his little life with Grian somehow even quicker than he apparently got over Grian. A painful reminder of how Scar jilted him hanging right there.

And then Grian's apparently murdered by Joel. Minutes after the forest scene in which he's once again pretty heart crushingly rejected by Scar. Scar who had seven lives which he was literally selling. Scar who didn't view a partnership with him as valuable enough payment. Scar who burned the pre-order crystal right in front of Grian and shoved past him to go talk to Joel (part 2 of his replacement for the life he built with grian!). Scar who's going to fucking pay now that Grian's a red life if he's got anything to say about it.

[mandoalorian]

I Believe In Love [Maxwell Lord x F!Reader] — Eleven: Love - SMUT

Summary: When you find your calling to leave Themyscira, you venture out to the World of Man with intentions of helping and healing a very specific person’s relationship with his son. You’ve heard his voice before, but only in dreams. You’ve felt his pain and anguish and you’ve never been able to relate to anything more. But things don’t come easy for you, and they certainly don’t come easy for him either. [This series contains spoilers for WW84 and is my interpretation of what happens after the movie ends].

Warnings: 18+ smut, unprotected p in v, cunningless, tit play, breeding kink, mentions of pregnancy, cursing, food and drink mention, emotional because we’re nearing the end, a family being brought together and our favourite soft, sad dad loving his son and, well… you.

Word count: 4300>

REBLOGS APPRECIATED.

Masterlist 

Previous - Chapter Eleven - Next

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

Just entering Black Gold Cooperative again, when you thought the previous night would be your last, drew tears to your eyes. This extensive size office was the place you’d first journeyed too upon venturing to the world of man. The building meant more to you than you had first realised, and it held so many amazing memories of self discovery. Your eyes flicked between the velvet sofa where you had once slept on, and the plants that peppered each corner of the lobby. They were vibrant and filled with life, symbolic of new beginnings. Now, the only magic in the air was love. You could feel it, Maxwell could feel it, and from the way Alistair perked up as you sneaked up behind him, he could feel it too. Love truly was the most powerful thing.

Seeing the way Alistair ran into his father’s arms, and the way he squeezed Max so tight -- like he was afraid to let him go, was enough to make your heart melt into your chest. “Daddy! You’re back!” he exclaimed excitedly. “Did you win?” He asked, his dark brown eyes glittering with hope. Alistair tugged on Max’s dark blonde shaggy hair as he waited for a reply.

“Yeah buddy, I won,” Max chuckled breathlessly. With those two words of affirmation, Alistair burst into tears. You took a step back as you watched the interaction, sensing how high the emotion was. You knew that Max had waited for this day to come for a long time. “No no, don’t cry. You should be happy.” Max cooed apologetically, his eyes widening as he tried his hardest to comfort his son. You were no longer a Goddess, and you had been stripped of your powers, but you could still feel the compassion between them both. And it was beautiful.

“I am happy,” Alistair choked out in between sobs, pulling back to look at his father. Max wiped away Alistair’s tears and offered him a weak smile.  “This is all I’ve ever wanted.” Alistair confessed, nuzzling his face into his father’s chest.

Max sniffed and pressed a kiss to his son’s forehead. “I’m going to redeem myself for everything, Ali. I know… I know I’ve done terrible things and made big mistakes, and I really am a pretty messed up loser but--”

“No,” Alistair cut him off, his tone chaste. “Daddy, you’re a winner. Thank you for fighting for me.”

“Always,” Maxwell hummed, picking up Alistair and cradling him in his arms. “Let’s go home.”

***

Maxwell drove, and Alistair insisted that you sit in the back of the car with him. You obliged, unable to ever refuse the bright eyed little boy. Alistair’s small, clammy hands squeezed yours and he watched intently as you gazed out the window, entranced by all the things you passed. There was still a lot you had to get used to, but it brought you comfort knowing that now, at least you had the time. There was no pressure to return back to Themyscira. D.C. was your home. Wherever Alistair and Max was, you were home.

Alistair nuzzled his head into you and closed his eyes, feeling completely content with your company. “I like your new outfit.” he hummed, his fingers tracing your glimmering gold belt.

“You do?” you asked curiously, and felt Alistair nod against you. “You know Ali, I sorta prefer the normal clothes.” you shrugged, and caught Maxwell smiling in the reflection of the rear view mirror.

“I like this,” Alistair admitted. “You look like a superhero. Like… from my comic books.”

“You don’t need a fancy costume to be a hero, Alistair,” you said, tapping his chin so he looked up at you. “Your dad is proof of that.”

***

Maxwell dropped his keys on the side table by the front door when the three of you returned home. “Are you guys hungry?” he questioned, scratching the back of his head. After a day in court, he’d worked up quite the appetite, he must admit.

Alistair grinned and nodded his head. “Starving! Can we get pizza? Please daddy, oh please can we get pizza?” 

“Hmph,” Maxwell grumbled, displaying a faux annoyance before bursting into an adorable grin. “I suppose so. Since it’s a day to celebrate.” 

“Yay!” Alistair cheered, running into the living room and jumping on the sofa. By the sounds of it, he’d found the remote control for the television and turned on one of his favourite kiddie TV shows.

Walking over to the telephone, Maxwell caught a glimpse of his reflection in one of the many mirrors in the hallway and frowned. He was happy, but Gods did he still look a mess. The blonde in his hair was rapidly fading out and he was in desperate need of a trim. He’d been neglecting his biotin supplements and forgetting to moisturize, and oh, his tired eyes. You caught him hyper analyzing his appearance and approached him from behind. Pressing a kiss into his shoulder and wrapping an arm around his waist, you sighed.

“What are you thinking about?” you wondered out loud.

Maxwell swallowed. “I just… I’m not the man I once was,” he ran his fingers through his hair and gestured down to the power suit that he’d worn to court. “I’m not Max Lord anymore. Not this… big oil tycoon businessman. Not on TV anymore. This whole thing is a facade. It’s not me. And everytime I look at myself… I’m reminded of all the mistakes that I made,” he admitted quietly before taking a shaky exhale. “It’s fine,” he quickly backtracked. “Guess I’ll just have to suck it up.”

“The worst part is over, Max. And you’re a survivor,” you told him, taking his hand. “The world can forgive you, but it means nothing if you can’t forgive yourself. You need to learn to love yourself.”

“Will you help me?” Maxwell asked quietly, a nervous tone prominent in his voice.

You offered him a warm smile. “That’s why I’m here,” you reminded him sweetly. “To help.”

Maxwell turned around to face you fully and placed a hand on your cheek. You swore, in that moment and under his touch, that you had forgotten how to breathe. Max might not have been able to see it, but he truly was so beautiful. The gold in his former life may have been gilded, but the gold in his heart was pure and authentic. And now, it was all yours.

Maxwell pulled his tie off his neck and shuffled out of his suit jacket. “I think it might be time for me to hang up this tie for good.” Maxwell sighed sadly, running the patterned silk material between his fingers.

“Do you want to?”

Maxwell paused for a moment. “No, I don’t think so. I’ve worked so hard to get here… I just can’t give Black Gold up.”

“Then don’t.” you whispered, shuffling your body into his. He snaked an arm around you and sighed even louder.

“It’s not that easy, darling. I don’t have the money to keep it going.” 

“I won’t let you give up on your lifelong dream, so… we’ll figure something out. Maybe you’ll have to downsize. If oil isn’t making you any money then maybe… you might have to specialise in something else. If the past week has proved anything it’s that all our problems can be figured out through the power of love. And you have that. Right here,” you maneuvered his hand and placed it on your heart before pointing your free hand into the living room at Alistair. The door stood slightly ajar. “And right there.”

Maxwell smiled. “There’s a thing, here. In the world of man…” you could tell he was about to start rambling about Goodness know what. He looked up slightly, avoiding your eye contact as he talked. “Where two people… love each other, a lot. And so they make a promise to dedicate themselves to one another. Asking you to be my girlfriend sounds a little childish,” Maxwell chuckled softly and your eyes widened when you realised where he was going with this. “But I guess… if you wanted…”

“I do!” You said quickly, cutting him off before he could even finish.

“You do?” Maxwell asked, truly stunned that you had agreed so fast. He couldn’t believe someone as magnificent as you would love him back, let alone want to be with him. He never thought he was deserving of love, especially after everything that had happened. If Maxwell had never met you, he would’ve been certain that he’d grow old, cold and alone. 

“I do.” you confirmed, grinning and pressing your lips into his.

The genuine smile that was on his face when he pulled away was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen. More beautiful than the sands and oceans on Themyscira. More beautiful than the landmarks and caves in Athens. It differed to his television smile. This was one hundred percent authentic. This was Maxwell Lorenzano. “I’m going to change into my pajamas,” you announced. “And I’ll bring Ali upstairs with me and have him get ready for bed.”

“Okay,” Max acknowledged, still grinning. “I’ll set the dining room table for the pizza.”

You guided Alistair upstairs and followed him into his bedroom. You sat down on his bed, and pulled him down to sit next to you. “I told you I had a gift for you, from Athens.” you smiled and watched as Alistair’s eyes lit up with excitement.

“Yes!” Alistair cried out, bouncing up and down.

You detached the lasso of Hestia from your tunic and placed the rope gently in his hands. “This is my lasso of truth. Remember that one night when I met Julianna and Theodore, and I came to visit you? And I showed you how it worked? Do you remember?”

Alistair nodded slowly. “Yes. You told me the lasso wasn’t powered by you. It was powered by the truth.” 

“That’s right,” you confirmed, your heart swelling at how Alistair had retained that piece of information. “The lasso is important to me because it was a gift from my mother. And now, I’m passing it down to you. I didn’t get this in Athens, but it is from Athens originally. I hope my lasso will be a constant reminder for you to always tell the truth, and always see the good in people.”

Alistair’s jaw was agape and he was struck with awe as his fingers traced the magical rope. “I love it…” he whispered.

“I’m glad,” you smiled. “It’s very powerful Ali. Who knows, one day you might be able to use it.”

“And I can be a superhero just like you…” Alistair grinned before biting his lip. “And just like my daddy.”

“Exactly. Just like your daddy. C’mon now, I want you to go brush your teeth and get ready for bed. Then we can go order our pizza, okay?”

Before you left his bedroom, Alistair called your name. You sensed hesitancy in his voice, almost like he was nervous. “Can I… can I try out the lasso... on you? Maybe?”

You wanted to ask him why the child might possibly want to do that, but then you realised, he was probably just curious. So, you obliged, and held out your wrist. Remembering how you’d shown him before, Alistair wrapped the rope around your arm and took a deep breath.

“Do you love my daddy?” Alistair asked, after taking a deep breath.

“Yes.”

“Will you promise not to leave him, ever?” 

“I promise.”

“Would you mind if… if… I called you mommy?”

You felt warm tears prick the corners of his eyes. A mother. It’s everything you had always wanted to be. You were the goddess of home and hearth. The urge to one day have a family was in your nature.

“I’d love that, Ali.” you admitted.

Alistair pulled the rope from your wrist and enveloped you into a tight hug. “Okay. Because I love you mommy.”

“I love you too.”

***

“What do you want?” Maxwell asked his son, pen in hand. He’d been scribbling down the order, the businessman in him wanting to have everything planned out before he made the phone call.

“Pineapple pizza! The biggest one!” Alistair exclaimed gleefully, stretching out his arms. You couldn’t help but laugh.

“Ali, you won’t eat it all,” Maxwell frowned. You nudged him, as if to say, ‘let him have this’. “Okay,” Max sighed. “The biggest pineapple pizza. And what do you want?” he asked, turning to you this time. You furrowed your eyebrows together, taking another look at the menu that had been passed around the dining room table.

“How do I know what’s good?”

“Well, not pineapple.” Maxwell grumbled. 

Alistair gasped, unable to believe the words that had just left his father’s lips. “Don’t listen to him,” Alistair said, grabbing your hand. “Daddy is wrong. Pineapple pizza is so delicious. Will you try some of mine?”

You squeezed the little boy’s hand. “Sure,” you agreed. Maxwell swore his heart melted everytime he witnessed interaction between you and his son. It was so pure, it was like you and Alistair had known each other forever. Granted, you’d known the little boy longer than you knew Maxwell. The day you woke up in the park felt like yesterday. “What do you like, Max?” you quizzed, eventually giving up on the menu. 

“Pepperoni, I guess. I don’t eat pizza much.” He admitted sheepishly. Before you could reply, Alistair’s voice made you jump up in shock.

“Boring!” He called out. Max shot him a playful glare and you rolled your eyes. 

“Don’t be rude!” Maxwell chastised, wiggling his index finger, and you couldn’t hide the smile on your face.

“He’s like you,” you pointed out. “Always has something to say.”

“My son.” Maxwell declared proudly, pulling Alistair into his lap and ruffling his dark hair.

Just like Max had anticipated, Alistair couldn’t eat the large pineapple pizza. In fact, he’d fallen asleep on the sofa after only two slices, a Star Wars blanket draped over him and a stuffed toy curled tight into his chest.

“Alistair asked me if it would be alright if he called me mommy,” you admitted quietly as Maxwell gathered the plates and empty glasses. His head snapped to face you the second the words left your lips. “I told him yes. But I figured… maybe you should have some say in it? I don’t know.”

“It means a lot to me that Ali can put his faith in you, and that he sees you as his mother. But this is a big deal. Family is for life and I don’t… he’s already lost one mother. I don’t want him to lose you too. So of course, it’s fine by me. As long as you promise to always be a mother to him, no matter what.”

“Always,” you whispered in reassurance, cupping Maxwell’s cheek and gazing into his dark eyes. “I promise.”

“I believe you,” Maxwell replied, kissing you on the forehead. “I should take him to bed.”

“Let me handle it,” you replied, stretching before leaning down to pick up the sleeping boy and cradling him in your arms. Clearly, somewhere down the line, you had forgotten you had been stripped of your powers and you were now a mortal. You let out a yelp. Once able to carry Alistair easily, you were now struggling. You wobbled slightly and Max hurried to your side to hold you and help you keep your balance.

“You okay?” Max asked, quirking an eyebrow. “He’s heavier than he looks.” you gasped, already a little breathless.

“Wanna trade?” he quizzed, raising a plate.

You mumbled a ‘yes’ and passed Alistair over to his father. “I’ll do the dishes and meet you upstairs.”

***

Max was still with Alistair by the time you had finished up the dishes and headed to the bedroom. You sat by the dressing table, brushing out your hair, and looked at the pile of discarded armour sat in the corner of the room. Maybe one day it would come of use, but for now, this was it. This was the start of a new life where you didn’t need no Amazonian armour. With Maxwell and Alistair, you had all the protection you could ever need.

“Hi,” Maxwell whispered, padding into the bedroom. You turned to face him and smiled. “I’m glad to be home… now… with you. Glad this is all over.”

He placed his hands on your shoulders and began to rub them affectionately. “Me too.” you replied warmly, leaning into his touch and nuzzling your head into his chest. You closed your eyes in contentment. Every second you spent with Max, you spent wishing it would last forever. Although you knew better than to make a wish.

“Are you tired?” Max pondered, smoothing out your hair and admiring your face.

Pushing back your hair and admiring your beauty was up there with one of his most favourite things to do. Your eyes looked like home, your lips tasted like home. You were home.

“Mm, no, not really…” you confessed, staring at the image of both you and Max in the reflection of the dressing table mirror. But Max’s gaze was fixated only on you. “Actually. I had an idea, since you know, we’re celebrating and all,” you confessed after a brief moment of comfortable silence. Maxwell raised a curious eyebrow and waited for you to continue. “Remember our first night back in Athens when we…” you trailed off and glanced over towards the bed.

“Yeah.” Max answered, already breathless from the thought.

“I liked it a lot.” You admitted bashfully as you reminisced on your first time with Maxwell.

“Me too.” he agreed.

“So do you want to do it again…?”

Max didn’t reply with words, but instead he pulled you up from the stool that you were sitting on and twirled you around so you were facing him. He crashed his lips onto yours and let his large hands freely roam your back, desperate to feel every inch of your body. He’d been waiting to do this again.

Without breaking away from the kiss, you pushed him towards his bed and climbed on top of him. You straddled his hips and began to run your hands over his chest, leaning over and kissing along his jaw and down his neck. Feeling his cock already hot and heavy, he cursed under his breath, dipping his hand under the hem of your silk nightgown and smirking upon finding that you weren’t wearing any underwear. He slowly slid his thick fingers between your folds, causing you to gasp at the sudden bolt of pleasure that ran through you. His thumb began to circle your clit and you dug your fingers into his shoulders as he worked at your bundle of nerves.

He loved to look at you and watch as your face twisted in pleasure. He liked to know you were feeling good. His fingers were like magic, and he truly had a golden touch.

“Want you to cum on my fingers, okay?” Max asked, increasing the speed. You tried to push out a word but just came out as a mangled moan. You nodded your head, feeling your cunt desperately clench around nothing and your thighs tighten as you neared orgasm. 

When you came undone, Max’s dark eyes gleamed with desire and pride. He pulled his fingers from under your nightgown and placed them on his tongue, sucking your arousal from his own digits.

“You taste amazing baby,” He praised, unable to contain his smile. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” You replied back with a smile.

Both you and Max made your way over to the bed, stripping yourself out of your clothes and intertwining your bodies together. 

“I don’t ever want this moment to end.” you confessed with a shaky exhale as Maxwell squeezed your breasts, peppering kisses down the valley of your chest.

“It doesn’t have to, princess, we have the rest of our lives to spend together.”

There it was again. The dumb nickname he’d called you from the day you first met. You’d insist that you weren’t a princess, and by no means royalty, but to Maxwell, you were. You were his princess. A rose stuck amongst a bush of thorns. You were the epitome of hope, beauty and love. And you were all his.

So the nickname grew on you, and you’d come to like it.

You felt the tip of Maxwell’s cock tease against your entrance as he swiftly rubbed his length up and down, between your glistening wet folds. By the time he pushed himself inside of you, just the scrunched up look on his face was enough to make your stomach erupt into butterflies. The crinkle in between his eyebrows and the way his perfect lips parted into an ‘o’ shape as your walls clamped around him.

“Fuck, you-you’re so tight,” He gasped, the Adams apple in his neck prevailing as he tried to swallow away his desire. “Always so tight. So per-perfect. Good girl. Such a go-good girl.” he praised, a small strand of dark blonde hair falling out of place and crossing his forehead.

You shuddered at his words.

“Look at me,” you begged, and he obliged, his chocolate coloured eyes snapping open. Despite the glaze of lust that seemed to cloud his vision, he was able to fixate on you, spending a few moments adoring your face -- the face he fell in love with -- as he remained seated deep inside you. He was stretching you open and Gods, it felt delicious, but you needed more. You desperately needed more. “Move, please.” you whimpered, bringing your hands up to cup his face.

Maxwell began to rock his hips into yours, his cock hitting that sweet spot inside of you with every thrust. He leaned over you and pressed his forehead against yours as he picked up his speed. “Don’t be too loud,” he warned quietly, his warm breath fanning over your ear.

It wasn’t long before he felt his cock twitch inside of you. “Shit,” he moaned, squeezing your shoulder to signify that he was close. “Neither of us are protected-- fuck, I need, I need to pull out.” 

“Mm, no, no Max. Keep going. Don’t stop.” You begged, your fingers tugging on the hair at the nape of his neck.

“You could get pregnant.” he rasped out, suddenly remembering you were now a mortal.

“Would it really be so bad?” you asked, and your question alone was enough to throw Maxwell over the edge.

Would it really be so bad?

You had a point. Max had never imagined having any more kids. Hell, he’d never really planned on having Alistair. But times had changed, and he was so in love with you. He figured -- maybe kids were something he could give another go at. Little mini you’s running around the house would simply be so adorable. And who better to have children with, than the goddess of home and hearth? Having a family was written in your destiny. It was always meant to be. Given the time and the place, the prospect of having kids, getting you pregnant… it just felt right.

The start of a new life… both figuratively and literally.

Of course he was certain that this was what you wanted, and evidently, you wanted it to. But the idea of seeing you swole and round, carrying his children… well that was a whole different thing.

“Fuck princess, you’re gonna look so good carrying my baby.” Maxwell grounded, nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck.

You felt your orgasm wash over you, and your walls clamp around his cock. That was enough to push him over the edge.

Maxwell came inside of you, and he made sure to cum deep, too. Once he’d regained his breath, he grabbed two pillows from his side of the bed and propped them under your butt so the lower half of your body was higher than your upper half.

“What are you doing?” you giggled.

“Making sure not a drop of it goes to waste,” Maxwell replied as he pressed sloppy kisses along your inner thighs.

And when he caught a glimpse of his seed beginning to spill out of you, he plunged his index finger and pushed it back in. 

“I love you so much.” You whispered as Maxwell smoothed out your hair and kissed your lips.

“I love you too, darling. And I can’t wait to embark on this new life together.”

You pondered for a moment, relishing in the comfortable silence before you brought your index finger and pointed it towards Maxwell. “Life is good, but it can be better.”

Maxwell was trying his damn hardest to fight the grin that was edging to cross his lips. How could one person be so adorable?

“It can always be better.” he whispered, bringing his hand down to your stomach and kissing you again.

———————————————

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I Believe In Love taglist : (tagged in replies!)

[parachutingkitten]

Imma go on a rant here, and like... this isn't something I care about... at all, but screw it, I'm tired, and this irritates me, it's rant time.

Anyway, it's a Tommy tweet. And like, Tommy tweets are great and they can be cute and fun but when they go into establishing important lore, I feel like they should be taken with a massive grain of salt or just completely ignored as a suggested theory because most of them are just... so weird on so many levels, and are very clearly just his personal opinion or HC, and yet people treat them as fact and... this one just got under my skin something different.

It's surrounding the whole "What is Lloyd's element" debate, and in season 4, Chen calls him the "Master of Power" which would imply that a good or at least acceptable name for his element would be power. But Tommy... doesn't like that name, so his retcon is that Chen is a villain, so you can't trust him about... what elements are called?

Like, why would he lie about this?! What possible motive would he have?! Does this imply that he's lying about other element names? And what would it profit him to call elements incorrectly? What name could Lloyd’s power possibly have that would be so earthshattering that he needed to call it something entirely different?! He's studied the elements, his whole plan revolves around getting all of them, that takes research, it's not like you can argue he's uninformed on the topic or something- he's spent his life obsessing over it! If anyone could give us an answer, he might very well be a good option! How does this line of logic make any sense?! I don't get it. Because he's a bad guy you can't trust that he's truthful about basic names of stuff?

Like it's possible that there is a storyline you could write where he misleads Lloyd about what his element really is and later reveals the true nature of it once he's obtained the power or something, but if you were gonna make some sorta revelation about Lloyd's element... time has long passed for it to happen.

No no no. This is a case of the writers needing a name for the element for the tournament, picking one, and then Tommy trying to backtrack afterwards cuz he doesn't like it or has some, much more convoluted thoughts about how it all works.

Why are we gatekeeping basic lore about the show's main character? Why?! Maybe you can say that because Lloyd's power hasn't had a master before, it doesn't have a name, that's why it's referred to as so many different things! That even keeps it open for a reveal later down the road if you really wanted (although, at this point idk of anything you could do that would really be that much of a twist). There's this whole thing about "essense" in some of his tweets where creation and destruction come from, and supposedly whatever Lloyd's power is is an "essense" too, but like, Lloyd's power functions as an element, it's treated as an element. What makes essenses any different than elements? And why does it necessitate that he can't be called the "Master of [whatever]" that title doesn't even necessitate the power be an element! Why have this distinction? Why make it so complicated?

And why isn't any of this worldbuilding, that's pretty damn vital if it's supposed to be canon, estabLISHED IN THE SHOW?!?!?

The writers gave lloyd this vague green energy in season 2, and instead of just addressing it by giving it an explanation, or keeping it as a funny running joke like the show's tried to do, Tommy comes in here like "Oh, the main character's power is ~undisclosed~" implying that there is an answer, but they're just not telling us. Not only does it withhold information, but by refusing to give the fandom an acceptable name to use to even reference this power, it renders basic discussions about the show massively confusing and contentious. He dances around the information like the fandom needs to wait another ten seasons before we can figure out basic facts about the main character that aren't even set up to be a mystery.

THE HELL IS THIS?!?!?!?

I'm sorry. I need to stop. I have gone on a little too long here. See, this is why I'm not a ninjago lore person. It would break me... so quickly.

Anyway. Goodnight everyone.

Side note: Please don't try and argue with me about what Lloyd's power is, like I said at the top of the post, I honestly don't care. I just wanna watch the color ninjas go spin.

[mino-diabolik]

From the distance the girl already looked nervous, as soon as she saw Mystic in the distance she ran to him, grabbing his arms. — I'm glad you're here... I'm kinda scared.

They walked to a lonely place where they could talk calmly, the girl seemed very worried as she held Mystic's hand walking by the snow, with only some light posts as light source. She looked at him in the eyes.— I, uh... Yesterday I heard my father talking about sending us to a place far from here, he talked about "adam" and "eve" and uh... God, he said so many random things... The thing is that he's been all weird, he normally isn't like this, and I'm afraid something bad is happening... He pronounced a name, "Sakamaki", I tried listening more but he hanged the phone. Do you... Do you know anything about a guy called "Karl Heinz"? I know it sounds weird, but I have a bad feeling since I heard all of that...

Sakamaki?

[A wave of recognition washed over Mystic’s pale features at the mention of that name. If he traveled to their mansion from the Demon Realm, it wasn’t exactly a difficult trip. He could go visit without issue if that eased her worries.

Still, the moment the name “KarlHeinz” left her mouth, he backtracked on everything. Whatever it was, as long as it involved that man, was definitely not safe nor smart to intervene.]

I… wouldn’t be able to say for sure.

[He wanted to tell her it most likely was nothing good, but he chewed his tongue amongst rushing thoughts.]

The Sakamaki brothers are my friends. Sorta. Don’t worry. If you’re able to reach a phone, or they let you keep one at hand, you know my number, okay? Always shoot me a text or ring me up in case of anything. Sometimes I drop by their place, so keep an eye out for that.

. . . I don’t… really have a right to intervene in their family’s affairs. Nor do I know exactly what that man is planning, but… all I can do is offer emergency help. Remember that… my family cannot get involved in any further arguments with clans of the Demon Realm. It wouldn’t be safe for anyone.

[the-actor-himself]

A hand-delivered invitation. How fancy! (He's almost sure the last invitation he received was hand delivered too, but that's not a thought for now) "Good! I oughta pay that little tyke a visit next time I'm not hoppin' between places. Gotta make sure he knows me apart from everyone else he's met!" What if someone else has cooler facial hair? That won't do at all!

There's a sly chuckle at the confirmation that the feelings are mutual. "I did try talkin ta him once or twice. He might wanna ram a horn through my gut, buuuut I'll figure that out." Maybe. Provided there isn't any further mishaps on either end. As for the part about the Manor... Wilford hummed in thought. "Considerin' it fucks with my head if I stay there fer too long, an' all th' tragedy an' sorrow linked with it -" and a poor, angry spirit haunting the walls but who was currently hiding in a room downstairs, "- I can see why yer so iffy. I guess ya can't just, uh, move out? Or convert th' sheds into an outhouse? Doubt any of ya go golfin' anywho." Maybe? He has no idea what goes on in that place half the time. "Answer me somethin': are th' doubts 'cause of th' house itself, or are ya gettin' some sorta nerves since, well, it's been a while?" (rosetintedgunman, who should actually be asleep right now oops)

“ He’s always happy to see you, Wilford. ” His beloved space bear had yet to be replaced as his favorite stuffy, even with all the growing he’d been doing lately. “ You know you’re welcome to stop by. ”

Mark smiles despite himself. “ Asterius is even more old-fashioned than you or I ever were. But he’s receptive to gifts. I’m sure the two of you will work something out. ” If his long lost brother had been able to win himself back into the Actor’s good graces, it was difficult to imagine anyone that could resist his attempts at being charming forever.

He sighs, and sips his drink.

“ It’s… a little of both, I think. I… I don’t know if I can move out. I… feel as though I can’t. ” Even the thought now set up a frantic sort of fluttering behind his ribs. Something knotted around veins and through bones, that cried out at the thought. That begged to go back and sink back into the safety of that overcast home with its living shadows.

And that wasn’t even taking Yancy into account, but things were still such a mess it almost felt like overconfidence to mention him to Wilford now. There was still too much that could go wrong. He couldn’t handle needing to backtrack from it later. Not yet.

“ The Manor isn’t somewhere that anyone should have to call home. Star doesn’t seem to mind it, but inflicting it upon anyone else feels selfish. Terribly so. It— ” The words choke upon his tongue.

It was the site of such terrible betrayal. Both to him and from him. Love rotted from the inside out within its halls too many times. Even with that foul host now cast from its halls, were the remnants still enough to ruin everything? Or was he finally - possibly - safe from the curse of the Barnum estate?

How could he know without trying? How could he risk more of those he cared so deeply for?

Yet Asterius had sworn not to abandon him. As had Yancy.

[chickwiththepurpleguitar]

congrats on 500!!! 🥳

can i request boggie (romantic or platonic) and “can i hold your hand?” 🥺

Thanks bestie!! This is my longest prompt fill so far lol, it kind of got away from me. This is my very first time writing Boggie, and my first time writing in Reggie’s POV, so have fun. Also you asked for sensory overload Bobby but I didn’t think I could do that justice so I did migraine Bobby instead. This technically takes place in my headcanon universe of my longfic, but you don’t need to have read that to understand this. Hope you like it!

--

Bobby’s gone.

Reggie doesn’t think anyone but him has noticed yet. Luke and Alex are too busy arguing with each other (good-naturedly, with no real anger or malice; Reggie can always tell the difference, without even having to pay attention to what they’re arguing about, though this time he’s pretty sure it has something to do with which color m&m is superior).

But anyway, Luke and Alex aren’t paying attention to anything but each other, and Bobby slipped out twenty minutes ago with a pained expression and a mumbled excuse and he hasn’t come back yet, and apparently only Reggie has noticed.

He’s not sure what he should do about it, though. Reggie likes Bobby—he’s a great guitar player, and his movie collection is unparalleled, and one time when Reggie showed up at school with a black eye, Bobby got suspended for two weeks because he decked a guy who tried to make fun of Reggie for it—but as much as Reggie would like him and Bobby to be friends, it can’t be denied that Bobby is… well… Luke’s. And not just because Luke is even more touchy-feely with Bobby than he is with everyone else, or because Luke spends every other night sharing Bobby’s bed because he has nightmares (something Reggie doesn’t think he’s actually supposed to know), or because whenever Luke and Bobby are in a room together, they can’t stop looking at each other. But also because the only reason Bobby joined the band in the first place was because he was there for Luke when Reggie and Alex weren’t. He was Luke’s best friend when Reggie failed to be.

And Reggie hates to take sides (especially because Luke once got really mad at him and literally accused him of taking sides), but if Luke is on Bobby’s and Alex is sorta vaguely not, Reggie feels like he’s kind of statistically obligated to balance it out. So as much as they’re all a band, and as much as Luke will always be Reggie’s first and best friend, and as much as Reggie would love to get closer to their rhythm guitarist, sometimes they just can’t help pairing off, and when they do, Sunset Curve becomes, well, Luke and Bobby—Reggie and Alex. 

But anyway. Reggie checks his watch. Bobby has now been gone twenty-five minutes, and Luke and Alex have moved on to discussing which animated m&m from the commercials they would date if given the option, and Reggie’s starting to get a little worried.

“Hey, guys?” he says, putting aside the bass he’d been sort of plucking at. “Can you shut up for a second?”

Luke and Alex immediately stop their bickering and turn to look at him, faces lit with matching concern. “Yeah, Reg?” Alex says gently.

“You okay, bro?”

Reggie manages a smile. They both know him so well. He gives a quick shake of his head to assure them he’s fine, their arguing wasn’t too much (later, once he’s sure Bobby’s okay, he might even put his two cents in, since the answer to both debates is obviously Green). “Do you know where Bobby went? He hasn’t come back yet.”

Alex frowns, and Luke looks around the studio as if he’s just then realizing that Bobby’s not still sitting on the couch next to him where he was half an hour ago.

“Where’d he go?” Luke gets up off the couch and clambers over the coffee table to cross the studio, past Reggie and Alex. He hauls open one of the doors and peers out into the driveway, then frowns back over his shoulder at them. “I don’t see him. He must’ve gone into the house.” A flash of something crosses his expression and he glances nervously from Reggie to Alex and back again. “I—I’d go look for him, but I don’t know if his parents are home, the car’s here.”

“I’ll go,” Reggie offers before it can become a thing, the fact that Bobby is Luke’s but Luke can’t even go after him when he leaves the studio because Luke is a missing person who Bobby’s parents don’t know lives in their garage.

“Thanks, Reg,” Luke says, and Reggie gives him a comforting pat on the shoulder as he passes.

Reggie doesn’t have to go far. He follows the path up from the driveway and catches sight of Bobby right away, sitting on his front porch with his face buried in his knees and his arms wrapped protectively around his head.

“Hey, there you are!” Reggie calls out without thinking, and then regrets it when Bobby’s head snaps up and he flinches with his whole body, a tiny whimper escaping his mouth just loud enough for Reggie to hear across the garden. Bobby’s face is so pale it’s almost green, and his eyes are hidden behind these thick dark sunglasses Reggie’s never seen him wear before.

Reggie’s heart lurches, and he hurries up the rest of the path. He sinks gently onto the porch step next to Bobby and asks as quietly as he can, “Bobby, what’s wrong?”

Bobby shoots him a shaky, unconvincing smile and whips his shades off. “Nothing, Reg, I’m—fuck.” Reggie gets half a glimpse of Bobby’s eyes—squinty and dull and full of so much pain—before Bobby goes another shade whiter, shoves his sunglasses back on, and presses his face into his lap with a groan.

Reggie’s concern spikes. He hovers a hand over Bobby’s shoulder, wanting to help but not sure if touching him when he’s like this will only make things worse. “Bobby? What—what’s going on with you, man? You’re scaring me.”

Bobby gives a miniscule shake of his head, still hidden in his folded arms. “I—it’s just… headache,” he mumbles, the words slow and slurred and muffled like even just opening his mouth too wide hurts him. He breathes heavily for a moment or two, then adds, “Really bad headache.”

“Oh.” Somehow, that’s… not what Reggie thought was happening here. Part of him relaxes some, even though his worry doesn’t lessen.

If Bobby were having a panic attack, like Alex gets sometimes, or one of those everything’s too much feelings that make it physically impossible for Luke to wear sleeves most days, then Reggie wouldn’t know what to do, how to help. Stuff like that is too personal, too individualized, and Reggie doesn’t know Bobby that well. But pain—physical pain—that, Reggie can deal with. That, Reggie knows all too well.

“Can I get you anything? What do you need?”

Bobby’s quiet for a moment, then: “Dark. Cold. Quiet… Maybe some medicine if I can keep it down.”

Reggie nods, even though he knows Bobby can’t see him. “We can do that. Is there a reason you were sitting out here in the first place? Probably easier to get dark and cold and quiet in your room, don’t you think?” He cranes his neck to see Bobby’s window above the porch roof. Reggie’s only been in there a handful of times, but if Bobby gets these headaches often, the blackout curtains on Bobby’s bedroom window suddenly make a lot more sense.

(Though, Reggie can’t help but wonder, if Bobby gets these headaches often, how has Reggie never noticed before?)

“Dizzy,” Bobby mumbles, and Reggie cuts his gaze sharply back to him. It takes a second to register that Bobby’s answering Reggie’s question and not necessarily describing how he feels now. “Couldn’t… stairs.” A pause thick enough for Reggie to get the sense there’s more, and then Bobby admits, his voice smaller than Reggie’s ever heard it, “Tried to ignore it too long. Been kinda coming on all day, but I didn’t wanna ruin rehearsal.”

Reggie’s heart gives a pang of sympathy. He makes a mental note to give Bobby a talk later, when he’s feeling better, about hiding stuff like this—and then maybe he’ll give Luke and Alex (and himself) a talk about whatever they did to make Bobby feel like he has to.

But all that can wait. For now, his only priority is getting Bobby settled in bed with all the lights off and an icepack on his head. “Okay, Bobby, I’m gonna get you inside so you can rest, okay? But can I try something first?”

Bobby stiffens. “Try what?”

Reggie’s heart’s beating a little too fast, though he’s not sure why. He swallows, tries to ignore the fact that he’s definitely blushing, and says, “Can I hold your hand?”

Bobby’s silent and still for so long that Reggie starts to worry he’s overstepped. But before he can figure out how to backtrack, Bobby grumbles something unintelligible into his lap and flops a hand in Reggie’s face. Reggie grabs it, hoping his own hands aren’t too sweaty, and expertly applies pressure to the point between the base of Bobby’s thumb and index finger.

The effect is almost instantaneous: Bobby shudders, and his muscles relax like a ripple going through him, and he slowly sits up and raises his head. Reggie can’t really read his expression with the sunglasses still on, but what he can see of Bobby’s face looks less pinched, less pained, and he’s gotten some of the color back in his cheeks.

He stares at Reggie, mouth hanging open, and breathes, “Whoa.”

Reggie blushes, self-conscious, but doesn’t stop gently massaging Bobby’s hand. “Better?”

Bobby nods. “How—how did you know how to do that?”

Reggie manages a sheepish smile. “My mom gets migraines. And, well, hangovers. So I’ve kinda picked up some tricks. Coffee really helps her, too, if you can stomach it.”

Bobby’s still staring at him, and Reggie swallows, his stomach giving a weird little flip that’s not exactly unpleasant. Finally, Bobby looks away and gingerly pulls his hand out of Reggie’s to rub at his temples. “Well, thanks, Reg, that really helped. I’m gonna go inside before it gets worse again. Can you, uh—”

“Yeah, yeah, no, I’ll—tell the guys… something.”

Bobby gives him a shy, grateful smile, and then slowly pushes himself to his feet.

When the front door closes behind Bobby, Reggie lets out a shaky breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He feels jittery and out of breath, like he just drank seven sodas or ran a marathon or something. His hands are tingly where they’d touched Bobby’s, and he can’t get the image of that last little smile out of his head.

Bobby doesn’t smile very often, and when he does, it’s not like that.

(And if it is, it’s not at Reggie.)

Reggie mutters a curse and copies Bobby’s earlier position, his face hidden in his hands. Because he thinks he might like Bobby.

But Bobby is Luke’s.

sorry bestie

Send me a pairing and a prompt to celebrate my 500th follower!

--

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[strangedreamings]

The next chapter of I Choose You (AO3) is up!

Chapter Six: Crush

Darcy woke to the sound of her phone ringing. Groaning, she reached out to grab it and accept the call without opening her eyes. “Unless a world is ending, whatever it is can wait until I’ve had a few more hours of sleep,” she muttered.

“It’s noon, Darcy,” Jane said patiently. “You said you were going to bed eight hours ago. What were you doing if not sleeping?”

That got her to open her eyes. “Thinking about Tall, Goth, and Handsome.” Despite being so desperately sleepy, she couldn’t help a smile at the thought of Stephen.

Jane let out an exasperated sigh. “Please tell me you don’t mean Loki.”

Darcy smirked. “I said ‘Tall, Goth, and Handsome,’ not ‘Tall, Goth, Handsome, and Despotic.’ No, this is … someone else.”

“A crush?”

She stalled for time by sitting up and arranging the pillows so she could lean back. “Um … yes?”

Her best friend’s eyeroll was practically audible. “Name?”

Darcy grinned. “Stephen with a P-H, as in ‘pretty hot.’” She could hear Jane typing. “Please tell me you’re not looking him up.”

“Not without a surname.”

She rolled her eyes fondly. At least it’s proof she cares. “Strange.”

“Looking out for you isn’t strange.”

“No, I mean his last name is Strange.”

Another sigh. “Darcy, I’m dating a Norse god, I’ve seen plenty of strange names.”

“No, S-T-R-A-N-G-E is his name.” I bet he goes through this all the time.

“Oh.” More typing. “Age?”

“Not sure. Early forties, maybe?” Give or take a few centuries.

“Darcy…”

“What? I’m in my thirties. Nothing wrong with liking a guy in the next age bracket.”

“No, I mean you don’t know how old he is?”

“The subject hasn’t come up yet.” We haven’t exactly had time for details.

Jane sighed again. “What subjects have come up?”

“He’s a former neurosurgeon.”

There was a pause. “Please tell me the next thing you’re going to say isn’t, ‘He’s good with his hands.’”

Darcy smiled a bit. “I wouldn’t know.” But I can imagine.

“That’s something, at least.” More typing. “I’m not finding anything on him.”

“Do I want to know where you’re looking?”

“Agt. Hill gave me access to SHIELD’s database for emergencies.”

“Me having a crush on a guy isn’t- Okay, yeah, this probably counts.”

“Is he in Witness Protection?”

“What? No. He’s not in hiding, he’s, well, he’s not from around here.”

“Darcy…”

“By ‘here,’ I mean this universe.”

“You mean-”

“Yeah, I’m crushing on a guy from an alternate universe.”

“I insist on meeting him. I should be at your place in forty-five minutes, can you ask him to come over?”

“That’s the thing – he kinda, sorta-”

“‘Kinda, sorta’ what, Darcy?”

“Lives here? In my apartment, I mean.”

There was a beat. “I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”

Darcy sighed. “Okay. Just … go easy on him?”

“Not a chance – I have to make sure he’s 1) not dangerous and 2) good enough for my best friend.”

“Thor’s taken.”

“I mean you.”

“Oh, right. Okay, I’ll put the coffee on.”

“Bless you. See you soon.”

Without enough time for a shower, she simply got up and put on her slippers before heading to the bathroom then the kitchen. Stephen wasn’t there, so she backtracked to the guestroom door then knocked lightly. “Stephen?”

*

Stephen cracked open one eye then groaned quietly. While his body had gotten the rest it needed, his mind had decided to tease him with the sweetest, most romantic dream he’d had in years and he didn’t want it to end. Just me and Darcy, slow-dancing in the kitchen, in love and- His eyes widened as the realization hit him. Married. Yeah, it’ll never happen. I would’ve married Christine eventually, when both of us were ready for it, but we were so focused on our careers and living in the present that we didn’t talk much about the future.

Then there’s the fact that Darcy and I together wouldn’t be a good idea, however you look at it. Even though she’s perfect, and perfect for me.

He imagined Christine’s warm voice in his head. You and I had our happiness, Stephen. Don’t let another chance slip through your fingers.

There was a knock on the door and he realized that’s what had woken him. “Stephen?” Darcy asked. “You up? I hope so because we’re going to have company in-” there was a pause “-twenty-five minutes.”

Curiosity winning out over his desire to get back to the dream despite his reservations, he got up then pulled on his robe and opened the door, unable to keep a smile off his face when he saw her. “Who’s coming and how dressed do I need to get?”

“Dr. Jane Foster.”

“Your ‘mentor and bestie?’”

Darcy grinned. “That’s the one. I, um, kinda told her about you and she wants to make sure you’re on the up and up.”

Stephen raised an eyebrow. “What, exactly, did you tell her?”

“That you’re from an alternate universe, you’re a former neurosurgeon, and you’re living here with me. I maaay have mentioned your goth hotness, but I swear, I didn’t tell her that you’re a sorcerer and I didn’t say anything about what happened to your home universe.”

He couldn’t help a smile, Darcy was that adorable. “I see. Let’s keep all that to ourselves for now. The last thing we need is to have her running away screaming.”

“Right. So, to answer the second part of the question,” she looked him over with decided interest in her eyes, “jeans and a tee are fine.”

Stephen smirked as he took in her pajamas. “What about you? Not that you don’t look good in blue.”

Darcy smirked. “Flatterer. Jane’s used to seeing me in my pjs.”

“And I should get dressed so she doesn’t get the wrong idea about us.”

“No fear of that,” she muttered, “but it wouldn’t hurt. I’ll get the coffee going and figure out breakfast.”

“I’ll eat anything.”

She grinned. “That I don’t doubt.” She headed down the hall and he chuckled as he shut the door again. You’re making it very hard to keep my distance, Dr. Darcy Lewis.

*

Jane didn’t know what to expect when she walked into Darcy’s kitchen but a tall, lanky, gorgeous man who looked like he just walked off the set of a vampire movie wasn’t it. All he needs is a pair of fangs.

He smiled at her and Jane had a feeling she knew why Darcy had a crush. “You must be Dr. Foster.” He held out his hand. “Dr. Stephen Strange.”

She smiled a bit as she shook it. “Please, call me Jane.”

“Only if you call me Stephen.”

“It’s a deal.” She raised an eyebrow. “Can I ask what you’re doing in this universe and how you got here?”

Darcy shoved a cup of coffee (black, no sugar, just the way Jane liked it) at her. “The pancakes are ready. Can the interrogation wait until after we eat, please?”

“Of course.” The three of them sat at the kitchen table and Jane noted approvingly that, whatever else Stephen was, he had a healthy appetite. Or maybe he just really likes Darcy’s cooking. When everyone was down to just their second cups of coffee, she asked, “Would you like me to repeat the question?”

Stephen smiled a bit. “No need. I’m here because this universe is one of many and all of them are under threat. I was brought here by a powerful alien called the Watcher, he keeps an eye on the different universes and when he realized some threats span multiple universes, he knew there needed to be people to neutralize those threats.”

“They’re called the Guardians of the Multiverse,” Darcy said proudly. “Stephen is the first.”

Not even the weirdest thing I’ve heard this week, Jane thought before turning to her best friend. “How did you get mixed up in this?”

Darcy grinned. “You’re looking at the Watcher’s assistant. I’ve got plenty of experience in both being vigilant and making sure geniuses on a mission eat and sleep regularly.”

Jane raised an eyebrow. “I’m not even going to question that.” She turned back to Stephen. “Why did the Watcher recruit you?”

“I’m a sorcerer.”

She probably likes his bluntness too. “You look more like a vampire to me.”

Stephen chuckled as he leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed in front of his chest, and his clothes morphed into something out of a fantasy video game. “Does this fit into your pre-conceived notions better?” Dressed like that, it was easy to sense the dark and powerful aura she had previously overlooked.

No wonder Darcy’s falling for him – everything together makes for quite a package. Still, he didn’t come across as evil. And when he caught Darcy’s eye and his gaze softened, Jane realized something else.

Darcy’s not the only one with a crush.

[pourleavechooses]

Dream vs Techno Manipulation

This is all roleplay and discussion of roleplay characters and personas. They’re all friends outside of this so don’t try and start unnecessary drama. Also probs spoilers idk.

So, everyone who’s up to date on the DreamSMP knows Dream manipulated Tommy. He manipulated Tommy into becoming dependent on him, believing nobody but Dream wants Tommy around, and spends several streams conditioning Tommy to think that way. Dream literally makes Tommy hand over his stuff to be destroyed so frequently that when he allows Tommy to keep it Tommy sees it not as an enemy having “mercy” (if you can twist it around enough to call it that) but instead as a special act of kindness from a friend. The true trauma Dream inflicted with this manipulation can’t really be seen until Tommy starts working with Techno.

Techno isn’t manipulative in the same ways as Dream due to the presence of morals. Dream has no morals as far as he’s shown, only a hunger for power and control he believes can only come about through the destruction of any countries or divisions, through returning to the “chaos” before nations. Techno, on the other hand, has played his character to have strong morals that he adheres to. It’s to the point that he literally says on stream on November 15th when Quackity asks if Techno is going to betray anyone he says, and I quote, “I would never betray my personal ideals” (timestamp 2:13:19). Techno’s loyalty is quite fickle when it comes to people because of his steadfast belief in upholding his own morals and ideals, leading many to believe he’s betrayed them. In reality, Techno makes his intentions quite clear to these people so more often than not it’s him being betrayed. Obviously we’ve seen that he’s against the government, believing it to be the problem. After the attempted execution Techno decides revenge for all the betrayals and attacks he’s suffered is right and fair, that repaying kindness is correct and punishing those who’d choose to hurt his friends and himself is completely fine.

So, where Dream’s manipulation is constant and clear as day from the outside, Techno’s is a whole lot more infrequent and subtle.

For instance Techno doesn’t have to pretend to care about Tommy like Dream does. Dream never cared about Tommy, only controlling him. Techno is used to allowing himself to act friendly with his allies (and occasionally an enemy who’s not all that bad) and doesn’t have to pretend or force himself to be nice to Tommy. He doesn’t worry about Tommy hating him when they argue because he doesn’t care what Tommy thinks of him. He’s not manipulating Tommy into liking him, he’s manipulating Tommy into sharing his ideals and hating the government (which by extension means Tubbo). Techno doesn’t have to lie to Tommy to do it, either, which kinda leads into a debate of whether or not it’s really manipulation, but for the sake of this post I will continue addressing it as manipulation.

Techno is honest with Tommy about everything except his plan to destroy new L’Manberg because he knows it’d be a deal breaker for Tommy as he is now. He tells Tommy all the horrible things the government has done to him (i.e pointing out the execution stage when they’re in new L’Manberg) and it seems to be working. However, the problem comes in when Tommy’s trauma from Dream and natural tendency for loyalty to a fault (emphasis on “to a fault”) leads Tommy to believe he’s bonding and becoming close friends with Techno.

It’s for Tommy’s own sake that Techno tells him that’s not the case even if Tommy doesn’t listen because Techno isn’t trying to bond with Tommy. Techno knows Tommy will likely see him destroying new L’Manberg as an act of betrayal, so he tries to make it clear that he’s using Tommy just as much as Tommy is/should be using him. Techno is always being used, so he sees no problem with a mutually beneficial arrangement where they use each other.

That being said, it’s unclear right now whether Techno truly intends to help get the discs back. For all we know the destruction of new L’Manberg will come first so Tommy could end up breaking off his agreement with Techno before he gets his discs back.

Also, backtracking a bit because I couldn’t find a good spot to fit this in earlier, Techno is kinda helping Tommy with his trauma. As mentioned earlier, Techno is friendly with his allies and expresses a certain level of care for them. He doesn’t tell Tommy his trauma is stupid, just points out rash actions Tommy takes because of them (i.e where he’d run off without Techno and then freak out when he was alone). When Tommy talks about wanting to see Dream or missing Dream, Techno tries for remind Tommy of his situation even if Techno doesn’t know how severe Dream’s manipulation was. When Techno accidentally says something that triggers Tommy’s trauma he backpedals to correct himself and avoids the mistake in the future. Techno doesn’t know fully what Dream did or really a whole lot of what Tommy has been through outside of their time together in Pogtopia, but he’s not heartless and will express care for those not against him. This sorta accidentally leads into Tommy believing their close friends or that Techno might just be a better version of Dream to him. As stated previously, however, this isn’t a role Techno wants. Tommy has used and betrayed Techno before, so it makes sense Techno wouldn’t want anything outside of a work relationship with Tommy. He’s also not interested in Tommy blindly following him which is proven when Tommy asks Techno what he should do like he’s expecting an order. Dream would’ve given that order, but Techno tells Tommy to make the decision himself, avoiding the role of “new Dream” in Tommy’s life. Techno doesn’t want to use Tommy without Tommy using him, so these little chances for Techno to take more control or trick Tommy into only doing what he wants are important in emphasizing that their working relationship is a two-way, mutually beneficial, street.

TLDR I guess: Dream doesn’t like Tommy but manipulates Tommy into thinking they’re friends and only Dream cares about him. Techno doesn’t care about Tommy’s feelings towards him, only that Tommy starts to see that the government (and thus Tubbo) is bad.

-

Side note but like they really did a good job building the characters on the SMP so it’s not a simple black and white “this person is bad, this person is good” type thing. Like the hero of one POV is the villain of another’s, and like the characters built with no real good to them are well written, well executed characters.

[themagicmistress]

Heere’s an excerpt from the first draft of ‘Flowers, Soft Beneath My Heels.’ Scrapped most of it, but I liked this scene! Soo, here it is

~

Rumblecusp is a nice place. The sky is clear and has been most of the days they’ve been here. The air is still and windless save the light breezes that simply ruffle the tree leaves.

Despite the relative peace of the environment, which on any other day would be idyllic, her view of the town is one of slight chaos, and in a different way than it had been last night. People are angry, stone-faced and yelling at each other, faces darkened with rage. Yelling is fine. She has a feeling they’re just doing it to do something instead of nothing in their situation. Some, however, wander through the village with lost faces, looking pleadingly up at the sky as if for answers. It has none to give them, she knows. The Moonweaver has said her piece.

But Yasha’s not looking for trouble, or any of the previous followers of the not-god. She peers curiously around the village, trying to call back to mind the location Anola had told her to go looking for.

She has to knock on a few doors and then awkwardly backtrack as she’s met with more than one tear-streaked face until Yasha finds an older man with a long wispy beard and weary black eyes.

“No alcohol here,” he says roughly and goes to slam the door. She wedges her toe between it and the frame before he can. His eyebrows fly nearly to his hairline. “Of course,” says the man she really hopes is Kresh, “I could always reconsider.”

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Yasha reassures and he leans back from her a bit. “I’m not going to hurt you,” She says more insistently and Kresh nods quickly. She stifles a sigh. “Look, I’m just looking to buy something nice for a friend and Anola said you were the person to go to.”

The pressure on her foot lessens and the door swings open. “Oh,” his face is sheepish, “Something sweet, right?”

“Yes,” Yasha tells him. Her heels ache and her heart’s still hopping a half-beat too fast from the earlier scare. She wants to be safe beneath the protection of the dome, her friends breathing warm beside her.

The candies are twenty-five gold, a bit more than mainland prices, but well worth it.

She sticks her head into the dome and there’s a second of relief as she sees them all sitting next to each other, not having moved an inch. 

“Jester?” Yasha makes sure her voice is quiet with Beau leaning against Caleb’s shoulder, the two of them having dozed off. “Can I talk to you?”

Jester looks up from underneath Fjord’s arm, who doesn’t appear to notice his own slow attempts to pull her closer. “Sure, what do you want?”

She hesitates. “Just about stuff. Stuff that happened today.” The cleric’s face falls and for a second Yasha feels bad but she didn’t want Nott or the others to bug the tiefling about the candies.

“Oh. Coming.”

They don’t go far from the dome, Jester’s steps short and hurried. She’s also reluctant to go far, to stray more than she needs to.

Yasha pulls out the small sack out and hands it to her. “Here. I thought you’d like these and I also thought you’d prefer to not share, so… here I am giving them to you away from the others.”

The moment Jester figures out what the rock-like amber stones are, her face lights up. “Yasha!” she gasps, and her face breaks into a grin, “You didn’t have to do this.”

“Well, I know you’ve been under a lot of pressure lately, and tonight was a lot. So.” She rubs the back of her neck. “You deserve it.” 

Jester pops one into her mouth and groans and her stomach does a split-second drop as she thinks oh-no-I-messed-up before she realizes it’s a happy noise.

“These are so good!” Jester shoves the bag back into her hands, “They’re really sweet and sorta crunchy at the same time. Holy cow, I can’t believe you got these here, Yasha, because when we leave I’m never gonna be able to get them again.” Her words are a little garbled with the candy in her mouth, but then she gives a pointed look to the bag. “What are you waiting for, are you going to eat one already or not?”

“They’re for you,” she refutes.

“Yeah, but I want you to have one, so eat it,” she tells her flatly. Yasha eats the candy. 

It’s a little caramelly and it melts in her mouth, with tiny hints of vanilla, all flavours she only knows because of Jester. It spreads in her teeth, sticky but pleasing, and in the center is a hard middle she discovers is a nut as she grinds it between her molars.

The tiefling’s fingers are deft, plucking candy after candy from the bag. They don’t shake and her friend’s demeanor remains unbothered by the night’s events.

What had her face looked like, fingers clenched around green robes, eyes teary toward liquid moonlight? She can only see what Jester shows her now. Someone delighted, maybe a little too delighted, by a simple gift of confectionery. Yasha only knows how she felt, watching a friend drift into the sky, glittering with chains like early morning dew on spiderwebs. Her pulse drumming in her ears, a war drum, teeth clenched, sword clenched, and useless.

Would that she could fell a god for her friend, but Yasha has never been able to claim herself saviour.

“Wanna ‘nother?” Jester offers, face curious now. She swallows. “How are you, Yasha?”

She blinks, taken aback. “I’m fine. Jester, are you okay? That’s— that was a lot up there.”

The answer is immediate. “I’m—” Jester stops. Frowns. “I’m fine too. You don’t need to worry about me, Yasha. I got what I wanted, didn’t I?”

That’s one way of looking at it. She got what she wanted, so all the other stuff, herself gone forever, separated from her friends, the Traveler, didn’t matter. A rationalization, driven by necessity, like the kind Yasha made in battle. Help Beau before she’s impaled on those spikes below her instead of helping Fjord, it’s fine Caduceus is right there next to him, and don’t waste any effort on that last guy Caleb’s about to torch. A different kind of survival, the kind where you swath your hurts in anything that makes it stop just so that the raw and aching parts of you can shrivel and die inside your chest. Whether that means smiles or bloody fists.

“I don’t think you wanted this,” she says softly. “Things suck. And they’re going to keep being like that.”

Jester’s lips press together very tightly. She doesn’t look at her. Yasha has never thought of any of her friends as delicate, but now, she thinks that’s the problem. They’re strong. All of them. Strong enough to fight false gods and save villages and reverse death. Strong enough to face horrors most would never dream, and then lose. Someday, she fears they’ll go charging in somewhere they shouldn’t, into a chamber of laughing mouths, swallowing her whole. A clouded night and a clear moon leaving them devastated beneath it, one less to their number.

Not tonight. But it was close enough that her mind instinctively shies away from it.

“You ever think that maybe you put too-high expectations on someone without knowing it,” Jester says, breaking the silence. She tugs at the sleeves of her high-priestess outfit, “And then they try to live up to what you want them to be, but they can’t and then it goes wrong and you know that when it does it’s because of you and kind of really your fault? Like you were the one to set them up for failure in the first place?” It all comes out in a rush, her voice wobbling on the edge of tears as she rambles. “D’you ever feel like that, Yasha?”

There’s a tumultuous set to the lines of her mouth, pulled back into a grimace, too stiff for smiling, too desperate for frowning. What do you say to something like that and how can she say it with Jester looking at her like she knows the answer to her question, the plea she’s making. How do I make it right?

She licks her lips, still sticky-sweet.

“You know it wasn’t your fault, right?”

“I know,” she whispers. And then, softly, an admission of guilt, “but I would have left you guys. I would have.” Jester chuckles. “How did this happen? I didn’t mean— I mean, how did I even make him a god?”

Yasha doesn’t know anymore than she does how to make Jester feel better now. To reassure her this wasn’t her fault, at its core, none of it. “I don’t know.”

“No. That’s alright.” No words have ever sounded so small.

She thinks of Zuala. She’s always thinking, at least a little, about Zuala, but right now she thinks of her pulling them up the side of a hill, a little ways away from the tribe, about the way her fingers had fit neatly between Yasha’s own and how the last thing she remembers before leaving Xhorhas is the sound of thunder.

“You ever think,” Yasha repeats slowly, “people choose to leave because of you? Or not you personally, but because of your decisions, the choices you make. And when you think back, you realize if you had done something different, they might not have chosen to leave at all?” Jester listens in rapt silence and then her mouth opens into a horrified little ‘o’ and Yasha forges on. “And then, if they’re going to leave, should I just go first so I don’t have to watch them do it?”

“Yasha, we’re not going to leave you,” Jester says, almost demanding, voice cracking with the remnants of tears swallowed back.

“No, I know. But I’ve always left you guys,” She says, the night cold against the back of her throat. “And today, you almost left us. You weren’t going to come back from that. We would have gone to get you, but would you have tried to come back to us?”

“Of course!”

“Even if it meant leaving behind the Traveler?” Yasha asks, “Even if it meant letting him take his punishment?”

Jester bites her lower lip and Yasha watches as a brief conflict plays out across her body, fists clenching and unclenching. “That’s not a fair question. I can’t answer that.” She says it like an apology.

Yasha takes a breath and accepts it. She expects nothing less from her, the girl who painted flowers in her room, who stakes her whole self on what she would do for her friends.

She can taste iron and bitter wind like dread in her mouth. “That’s okay. Just— just don’t leave in the first place. We would be sad without you. I’m not even sure what we would do. Probably just mope around all day. Get nothing done.” There’s a ring of truth to the words that hit too close to home to be even remotely funny.

Then, there are arms around her, enveloping and warm. “I’m not going anywhere.” The words are muffled against her chest, likely to hide the quiet sound of rasping around more tears.

“Don’t leave,” Yasha says.

“Do you think,” Jester asks, “ having to ask all these questions is worth it because at least now I have more family to keep worrying about?”

There used to be a hollow in her heart, one that now purrs in some kind of satisfaction and she allows it it’s victory. “Yeah. In a weird way, I’m kind of glad to have someone to leave.” The arms grow tighter around her and Yasha squeezes back comfortingly. “I don’t want to, don’t get me wrong, but if I didn’t have anyone to leave,” She hesitates, “I’d just be running away. If I leave, I know someone will miss me. I would exist in my absence.”

“I would miss you. Beau would definitely.” Jester pulls back, the rim of her eyes a little darker than before.

Her lips curve into a smile without her prompting, though she can’t quite bring herself to care. ““I have no plans to go anywhere unless it’s where the rest of you are all headed.”

“Good.”

The cleric is stiller, and though she hadn’t seemed outright distraught in the dome earlier, now she seems steadier. A port in the storm rather than the raging waves themselves, standing firm instead crashing out and into herself over and over.

“Does asking these questions help you usually?”

Jester shows the nearly-empty velvet bag of candy to Yasha who notices she has to almost unclench her fingers from their stiff position around it. “Not nearly as much as the candies.”

“You think,” she echoes in a mimicry of their earlier conversation, “you’re ready to head back?”

“Yeah. Yasha?” Jester asks, tucking away the little bag.

“Thank you.”

“You’re important to me,” Yasha tells her and finds a little more joy in the soft smile that graces Jester’s mouth as she does. “Thank you for staying.”

She keeps her eyes on her friend’s back, her steps not quite the light skip they are usually, but lighter now. A part of her wishes she could take their group and bundle them away from the world, cruel and unfair to the best of them. Another part looks at the sea line, just barely visible over the tips of forest trees, and wonders how long into the night she would have to trek to make it there before the others wake. If Yasha squints, she can see a tiny light somewhere between the waves. A lighthouse on the shore, maybe, or a star touching down where the horizon meets the sea.

Ahead of her, Jester runs her fingers through the little velvet bag Yasha had given her over and over again like she can’t help but remind herself of the gift. A smile still rests on her lips.

[thelastspeecher]

The Six Senses - Chapter 4: Ugly Things in the Darkness

Chapter 1   Chapter 2   Chapter 3   Chapter 4   AO3

It’s been three years since I posted Chapter 3 of this fic.  And now, I’m finally finishing it!  I had a lot of ideas and plans to do more than just four chapters, but inspiration is a fickle mistress, and I ran up against basically a wall.  Not to mention, while I was working on this last chapter, my Word doc kept freezing, so I think the Universe is trying to tell me to end the fic here.

Enjoy.

---

Summary: The assault on the company.

Ugly things in the darkness Worse things in store In the declining years Of the long war - The Mountain Goats, “In the Craters on the Moon”

——————————————————————————————

              Shermie’s van came to a stop outside a small, cozy cabin. Stan, Ford, Fiddleford, and Shermie got out.  Ford eyed the cabin.

              “Really?  This is where the kid lives?” he asked.

              “I think it looks lovely,” Shermie said. “Small, but homey.”

              “It’s the size that’s throwing Ford for a loop,” Stan explained, leaning against the van.  “The place is barely big enough for Dan’s voice.”  Shermie frowned.  “You’ll see.  Let’s head inside.”  The four headed for the cabin.  Just as Stan raised a hand to knock, the door opened, revealing Wendy.  Wendy beamed up at Stan.

              “Uncle Stan!” she chirped.  Stan scooped her into his arms with a playful growl.

              “Hey there, little gremlin,” he cooed.  Wendy giggled, throwing her arms around his neck. “Where are your parents?”

              “Mama’s in bed.”

              “And your dad?”

              “Right here,” a voice rumbled from behind the men. The men turned.  Dan Corduroy stood there, apparently just done with his work, judging by the dirty axe hefted over one shoulder.  “And ANGEL is STAYING in bed.  GOT IT?”

              “Angel?” Shermie asked.  Dan scowled.

              “My WIFE.”

              “Ah.  Yes. Is that- is that her name?” Shermie asked, clearly trying to be polite.  Dan’s scowl deepened.

              “It’s her NICKNAME.  Ever HEARD of one?”

              “Ah.  Okay.”

              “Good to see ya again, Dan,” Fiddleford said, holding out a hand.  Dan shook the offered hand.  Shermie goggled at how Fiddleford’s hand was dwarfed by Dan’s.  “How’s m’ sister doin’?”

              “All right, but NOT involved with THIS,” Dan said firmly.  “Doc says she CAN’T have more STRESS.  She’s staying OUT of this.”

              “Understood,” Ford said with a nod.  Dan sighed heavily.

              “But I can’t stay out of it,” he said somberly. Stan raised an eyebrow.

              He doesn’t use his inside voice very often.  He’s serious about this.

              Yeah, no shit, Ford said tartly.  Stan glared at him.

              Get outta my head, Sixer.  Ford rolled his eyes.

              Fine.

              “What do you mean, Dan?” Stan asked.  Dan sighed again.

              “These people…they’ve gone after my wife. They’ll go after my daughter, too. I can’t let them.”  He met Stan’s eyes squarely.  “Whether you like it or not, I’m coming with.”

              “We’ll be glad to have your help,” Ford said. He looked at Stan.  “Stan?”

              “Yeah, with Dan as backup, our odds are even better,” Stan confirmed.

              “Why do you think the company will go after your daughter?” Shermie asked.  Dan looked at Wendy, still in Stan’s arms.

              “Show ‘em, SWEETIE.”  Wendy nodded.  She closed her eyes.  Stan began to float off the ground.  He hovered for a few seconds before slamming back down onto his heels.  “Started happening LAST WEEK.  ANGEL says that’s how SHE started.”  Dan gripped his axe so tightly his knuckles turned white underneath his ginger hair.  “They WON’T do to Wendy what THEY did to my WIFE.”

              “No, they won’t,” Stan said firmly.  Dan looked at him.

              “Do you…KNOW?” he asked.  Stan reached for the information.  After a moment, he nodded.

              “Wendy’s safe.”  Dan’s shoulders slumped in relief.  “But only if we rescue Shermie’s grandkids.”  Dan grinned viciously.

              “Sounds GOOD to ME.  My AXE gets sick of TREES sometimes.”  Shermie, Fiddleford, and Ford blanched.  Stan, however, set Wendy on the ground.

              “Hey, kid, did you hear what your husband just said?” he called, cupping his hands around his mouth.

              “Yes, I certainly did!” the kid shouted from inside the house.  “And I’m not happy he made that sorta joke in front of people who don’t know his sense of humor!”  Stan smirked at Dan.  “You better all come inside so I can catch up with my family and scold my dear spouse!” Stan ruffled Wendy’s hair.

              “Go get your mama, sweetie.”  Wendy bolted inside.  Stan looked at Ford.  “Let’s go see our little sister.”  Ford smiled.

              “But of course.”

-----

              Dan’s pickup truck came to a stop inside a wooded clearing a little under a mile from the company’s headquarters.  Stan practically fell out of the car in his haste to be away from Dan’s distinctive body odor.

              “Do you ever shower?” Stan choked out.  Dan got out of the truck, scowling.

              “ANGEL likes it.”

              “Yeah, I don’t understand her sometimes,” Stan muttered.  Ford and Fiddleford got out as well.  “So, we all understand the plan?”  The other three men nodded.

              “We should go over it quickly, though,” Ford said. “We will break in by stealing some of the uniforms worn by the workers.  While Fiddleford causes a distraction, Stan and I use the map to track down Mabel and Mason.  Fiddleford leaves after causing his distraction, Stan and I leave after rescuing the infants, and we all meet up here with Dan.”  Everyone nodded.

              “If you NEED me, you can…”  Dan grimaced.  “You can get INSIDE my HEAD, Stanford.”

              “Really?” Ford asked.  Dan nodded.

              “I might HATE it, but it’s the EASIEST and FASTEST way to contact ME.  Can’t waste TIME with these PATHETIC worms.”

              “Usually I use more four-letter words to talk about the people who work for the company, but ‘pathetic worms’ isn’t bad,” Stan remarked. Dan grinned.

              “I just HOPE your CITY-SLICKER BROTHER takes care of my WIFE.”

              “Shermie will take great care of the kid and Wendy,” Ford said smoothly.  Dan nodded. Stan took a steadying breath.

              “We better go soon.”

              “Do our odds get worse if we wait?” Ford asked.

              “Yeah.”

              “Any particular reason why?”

              “‘Cause I’m gonna lose my nerve if I have to think about it much longer.”

-----

              One strong mental blast from Ford was enough to knock out the three guards by the back door.

              “You’ve gotten better at that,” Stan remarked as he removed the guards’ uniforms.

              “I’ve been practicing,” Ford replied.  Stan handed him a uniform.  “You’re physically much stronger than I am.  I have to be able to protect myself somehow.”

              “Yeah, yeah, I get it.  It’s just a bit surprising to see three men drop when all you did was look at them.”  Stan tossed a uniform to Fiddleford.  “Get dressed. We’ve gotta move fast.” Fiddleford nodded.  The three men pulled on the uniforms.  To Stan’s relief, the uniform included a full-face mask. Stan opened the door.  “All right, Fiddlenerd, go make us a distraction.” Fiddleford nodded and ducked inside.

              Stan and Ford waited a few minutes, then entered as well.  The moment they stepped into the building, Stan swore softly.

              “They’ve got dampeners up.”

              “We don’t need our ESP for this, though,” Ford said.

              “If everything goes right, we don’t,” Stan corrected.  “But that’s not what I’m worried about.  Mabel and Mason are babies.  The company’s already got power dampeners up for them, at this age?  Even the kid didn’t get dampeners until she was a toddler.” Ford stilled.  Stan couldn’t see Ford’s expression, but knew the blood had to be draining from his twin’s face.

              “Shermie’s grandchildren must be something special, to warrant such protection.”

              “Yeah.”  Stan shook his head.  “We can’t think about that right now.  We’ve gotta focus on getting the kids outta here.”

              “Absolutely.”  Ford pulled out the map.  He inspected it closely.  “I know which way to go.”

              “Well, age before beauty,” Stan said, gesturing for Ford to lead the way.  Ford huffed slightly, but began to walk.

              The company’s facility was different than Stan remembered.  He wasn’t sure whether it was because they had decided to switch up the design after relocating, or because he hadn’t seen it much when he was in the facility, since he had spent so much time locked in blindingly white rooms.

              Clearly, they haven’t changed their favorite color. The tile floor, walls, and even chairs and tables they passed were all white.  Would it kill them to have one piece of furniture that doesn’t look like it was bleached?  In the sea of white, a bright yellow plaque on the wall caught Stan’s attention.  He came to a stop in front of it.  Luckily, Ford noticed before he had walked very far.

              “Stan, we have to move,” Ford hissed, backtracking to where Stan stood.  Stan gestured at the plaque.

              “Apparently, this place has an actual name,” Stan said quietly.  The plaque proudly listed the names of donors that paid to construct the new headquarters of the Cipher Paranormal Studies Corporation.

              “I’m not surprised,” Ford whispered.

              “We were never told the name.  That’s a dick move.”

              “Stan.”

              “You’re right, this is the least dickish thing they’ve done.  But I still feel like we shoulda been told the name of the place we grew up in.”

              “Stan, we need to move fast.  We don’t want Fiddleford’s distraction to go to waste,” Ford insisted.  Stan nodded. He followed Ford away from the plaque, but glanced back at it briefly, a strange feeling in his chest.  Almost like his dampened clairvoyance was trying to tell him something.

-----

              “Here,” Ford whispered, coming to a stop in front of a closed door.  A sign on the door read “Subject Incubators”.

              “Damn, that’s a creepy way to say nursery,” Stan muttered.  He pushed open the door.  Like everywhere else in the facility, the room was bright white.  The furniture was the same color, including two cribs tucked against the back wall.  “There!” The brothers rushed over to the cribs. Stan’s heart sunk.  Only one crib had a child in it.

              “This must be Mabel,” Ford said, gently lifting the baby and nestling her in his arms.  Mabel giggled loudly.

              “But where’s-” Stan started.  The door opened behind them.  They spun around.  Two employees stood in the doorway, one carrying an infant.

              “Who are you?!” one of the employees snapped. In lieu of a response, Stan bolted across the room, tackling the employee who wasn’t carrying a baby before they could raise the alarm.  He kicked the door shut.  A jolt of pain accompanied the movement, making him gasp.

              Fucking hell.  My age is catching up to me.  The employee he’d tackled quickly recovered, shoving Stan off.

              “They said nanny duty was easy,” the employee spat.

              “Well, whoever told you that was lying,” Stan retorted, grabbing the front of the nanny’s uniform and pulling them in.  He then grabbed the nightstick attached to his hip as part of the uniform and whacked the nanny over the head with it. The nanny dropped to the floor, unconscious.  Stan got to his feet, prepared to attack the second nanny.  Instead, he saw Ford holding both babies and standing over the second nanny’s unconscious body.  “Huh.”

              “Please take one of the infants,” Ford said, panting. Stan took Mason from him.  “Thank you.”

              “Good work, Ford.”

              “Save the praise for after we’ve left the building,” Ford said.

              “Fair enough.”  Stan opened the door.  He caught sight of movement at the far end of the hall.  “Shit, more nannies are headed this way.  We gotta go.”  Stan and Ford sprinted out of the room, running until they had left the nursery far behind.  They came to a stop, breathing hard.  “Okay.” Stan gently cradled Mason in his arms, muscle memory from Wendy kicking in.  “We got the babies.  We got away from those evil nannies.  Now what?”

              “You’re the clairvoyant,” Ford snapped, holding Mabel close to his chest.

              “I can’t really do the clairvoyance thing if they’ve got power dampeners going,” Stan snapped back.

              “Fine, fine.”  Ford looked around.  “Should we go the way we came?”

              “Wh- you’re the one with the map!”

              “…I dropped it,” Ford mumbled.

              “You dropped it?!”

              “It was either the map or Mabel.  I chose to drop a piece of paper over our infant relative,” Ford said snidely.  Stan rolled his eyes.  “You helped to draw the map.  Do you remember anything from it?”

              “Not really, no.”  Stan looked up and down the hall, yearning for the familiar sense of churning in his guts to guide him.  “Maybe…that way?”  He turned left, going up the hall.  Ford followed.  “If the power dampeners weren’t up, this’d be a piece of cake.”

              “We might rely upon our powers too much,” Ford said quietly.

              “You might be right about…that…”  Stan trailed off.  They had reached a dead end.  A single, open door was in front of them.  Through that door, something was glowing.

              “What is that?” Ford asked.  He walked into the room.

              “Stanford, we’ve gotta get these kids outta here!  We can’t waste time trying to figure out whatever bullshit the company is doing now!” Stan hissed.

              “Oh, my god,” Ford whispered.  Stifling a groan, Stan entered the room.  His jaw dropped.  The room was massive.

              Well, it’s gotta be, to have room for…that. There was an enormous structure in the middle of the room, an upside-down metal triangle.  A circle was cut out of the center of the triangle, bordered by strange symbols.  Two metal circular platforms stood in front of the triangle.  An identical pair stuck to the ceiling like stalactites.  The platforms glowed a faint blue, as did lines of lights along the edges of the triangle.

              “What is that?” Stan asked.

              “My ride out of here,” a voice boomed.  The door slammed shut.  Stan and Ford spun around.  They were still alone.  “And you boys, as well as the other members of your deliciously powerful family, are my ticket.”

              “Okay, first, it’s gross as hell to call babies ‘delicious’,” Stan said.  “Second, who the fuck are you?”

              “I’ve had many names,” the voice said vaguely. Ford elbowed Stan.  When Stan looked, Ford pointed at a loudspeaker on the wall, from which the voice was coming.  Stan nodded.  “But the one you’ll recognize is Cipher.”  Stan’s blood ran cold.

              Cipher.  Cipher Corp.  The company’s real name.

              “Cipher,” Ford said.

              “That’s right!” Cipher said cheerfully.

              “Are you the boss of this whole fucked up shindig?” Stan asked.

              “Obviously,” Cipher scoffed.  “I have to admit, it was a delight to watch you grow up.”  The ice in Stan’s veins was promptly replaced with fury.

              “You stole us from our family!” he snarled. Cipher sighed.

              “I took you in,” he said, sounding disappointed in Stan.  “Your parents didn’t want you.  They didn’t want either of you.”

              “You-” Stan started.  Ford put a hand on his shoulder.

              “Cipher, what do you want with us?” he asked.

              “I already told you.  You’re part of my triumphant return home.  You, your twin, those darling children you’re holding, and even that young lady you think of as your sister are part of this.”  Stan heard a hitch in Ford’s breath.

              “Leave the kid alone,” he snapped.  “She’s been through enough!”

              “I’m not sure that she has,” Cipher said. Stan opened his mouth to shoot a retort, but before he could, there was a loud explosion.  Ford stumbled back a few steps, nearly falling.  The loudspeaker crackled.  Stan knew what had happened.  He knew.

              “Cipher’s gone,” Stan said confidently.  Ford looked at him.  “He probably went to find out what happened to knock out the power dampeners.  Now, let’s get the hell outta here before he comes back.”

              “We don’t have the map.”

              “We don’t need one now.”  Stan furrowed his brow, focusing as hard as possible on what route they should take to get out.  “The shortest route has a bunch of guards.  Looks like you’ll get plenty of chances to practice that telepathic attack of yours.”

              “At this point, I’ll take anything over more physical exertion,” Ford muttered.  “Lead the way.”

-----

              Exhausted and sweaty, but still alive, Stan and Ford finally arrived at the clearing Dan was waiting in.  Fiddleford was already there, pacing back and forth anxiously.

              “We’re here,” Stan croaked, removing his mask. Ford removed his as well. Fiddleford and Dan’s heads shot up.

              “Oh, thank the Lord,” Fiddleford said, resting a hand over his heart.  “I was startin’ to get mighty worried.  Did the distraction help ya or was it too late?”

              “It was perfectly timed,” Ford said.  He and Stan walked over to the truck. Fiddleford sighed in relief.

              “Good.  I had some issues tryin’ to decide how to set up the distraction.”

              “It worked out great,” Stan said.  Fiddleford grimaced.

              “Not really.”

              “What do you mean?”

              “He DROPPED the doohickey he made with my WIFE’S magic,” Dan rumbled.  Fiddleford glared at Dan.

              “I told ya, that ain’t how the lil tie I made works!”  He looked back at Stan and Ford.  “But…yes, I did drop it in the chaos.  Ya don’t think that’ll be a problem later on, will it?”

              “Of course it’s gonna be a fucking problem!” Stan burst out.  “You just handed over the kid’s powers to the company!”  Fiddleford quailed.  Ford put a hand on Stan’s shoulder.

              “Stanley.  It’s okay. That’s something we can deal with at a later point.  Right now, we need to be glad that everyone got out unharmed.”

              “Yes, how are the lil ones?” Fiddleford asked.

              “Surprisingly quiet,” Ford said.  Mason abruptly began to fuss in Stan’s arms.  “Never mind.”

              “They had power dampeners on for these little gremlins,” Stan said quietly.  Fiddleford cocked his head.

              “Well, ain’t that just their policy?”

              “Not for babies.  They put in the power dampeners when they decide that someone’s ESP is getting strong enough to cause problems,” Stan explained.  “Your sister only got power dampeners when she was a toddler, and you know how powerful she is.”

              “So these lil sweeties ‘re goin’ to have some strong ESP,” Fiddleford remarked, peering at Mason and Mabel.

              “That would be the logical conclusion, yes,” Ford said.  Fiddleford grimaced.  “We can finish this conversation at Dan’s place, I think.”

              “Yeah,” Stan said, “I wouldn’t be surprised if the company decided to start combing the woods looking for us.”  He felt a nudge at the back of his mind and let the knowledge wash over him.  “Yep. They’re already coming.  Let’s get outta here.”  Dan got into the truck.

              “Took the WORDS out of my MOUTH.”

-----

              Shermie and Wendy cooed over Mason and Mabel, who were buckled into carriers, ready to be brought home to California.

              “They’re so little!” Wendy gushed.  Shermie smiled at her.

              “Yes, dear, they’re newborns.  When your younger brother is born, he’ll be as small as them.”  Wendy’s eyes widened to the size of saucers.

              “Whoa,” she whispered.  Shermie chuckled.

              “Hey, uh, Sherm, can we talk to you in private?” Stan asked.

              “Sure,” Shermie said.  “Fiddleford, Dan, mind keeping an eye on the babies?”

              “No problem,” Fiddleford chirped.  Dan nodded.  Shermie followed Stan and Ford outside.

              “What’s going on?” Shermie asked.  Stan crossed his arms.  He looked at Ford, waiting for him to start the conversation.  Ford sighed.

              “The company already installed and turned on power dampeners for Mason and Mabel,” he said.  “Power dampeners are expensive to maintain, so they’re only turned on when necessary.  The fact that they’d already turned them on with Mason and Mabel being so young…” Shermie paled.

              “They’re going to be particularly powerful, aren’t they?” he whispered.  Stan and Ford nodded.  “Oh, no.” He ran his hands through his hair. “I’ll- I’ll have to warn my son and daughter-in-law.  But even with the warning, I don’t know how well they’ll be able to handle it.”

              “I’m going to go to California,” Stan said. Shermie stared at him.  “Ford and I realized that one of us should stick near you and the kids, to keep an eye on them, and we decided that I would.  I don’t really have much of an attachment to any particular place.  Not to mention, I can see danger coming from a mile away.”

              “Stan, that would be fantastic,” Shermie said, audibly relieved.  Stan shrugged.

              “It’s important to look out for family.”  He smiled.  “Even if you’ve only just met them.”  Shermie smiled back.

              “Still.  Thank you.” He glanced back at the cabin. “What about Wendy and her mother? They could probably use some protection. I know that Dan is rather formidable, but…”

              “I’ll be staying in Gravity Falls,” Ford interjected. “Stan and I saw something in the company’s facility that concerned us, so I won’t just be staying to keep an eye on Wendy and the kid, but also to find out what I can about what we saw.”

              “What did you see?” Shermie whispered.  Ford shook his head.

              “I honestly don’t know.  But it can’t be good.”

              “If I get any bad vibes or if Ford or the kid give me a call, I’ll head up to help out,” Stan said.  He grinned at Ford.  “But Ford proved he can hold his own today, so I think I can leave him here without too many problems.”  The door to the cabin opened.  Wendy sprinted out.  She tugged on Shermie’s pant leg.  Shermie looked down at her.

              “Yes, dear?” he asked.

              “Mr. Shermie, the babies laughed!” she enthused. Shermie’s eyes widened.

              “Well, that sounds like something I should be there for!”  He looked at Stan and Ford.  “Are you going to come inside as well?”

              “In a moment,” Ford said.  “Stan and I need to have a quick conversation.”  Stan nodded.

              “All right,” Shermie said mildly.  He took Wendy’s hand and went inside with her. Stan and Ford looked at each other.

              “Do you really feel comfortable being on your own in California with Shermie, Mason, and Mabel?” Ford asked quietly.

              “I’ll figure it out.  I don’t foresee any big problems,” Stan said.  Ford sighed.

              “Still.”

              “What about you?” Stan asked.  “Are you sure you can handle the kid and Wendy and the company?”  He scowled. “Or, I guess, the Cipher Corporation?”

              “I’ll be fine.  Like you said, the second there’s any issues, I’ll contact you for help,” Ford said smoothly.  Stan felt a nudge at the back of his mind.  When the information came, it made him raise an eyebrow in surprise.  “What?”

              “This town has more secrets than just the company. You better be careful.”

              “I will,” Ford promised.  Stan snorted.  He turned around to head back inside.

              “Ford, I don’t need clairvoyance to know that you just lied through your teeth.”