#but nope! gotta use the emergency line

[killjoy-prince]

Dude gave us an item we can use to call upon him and his fleet whenever we need help but before he said the above I had the silly idea that the crew get into a heated argument over something stupid and they use the device to call for him and he has all his knights at the ready and is like 'So what's the situation?' And the crew's like 'Oh can you settle the matter on [inane topic]' and he just looks at them dumbfounded and is like 'I issued an order out to all our fleets. We've made many jumps to get to you thinking it was life or death. My plants were in the middle of being tended to and this is what ails you?'

[cultofdixon]

A peaceful moment

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • When the chaos settled, the two finally got to as well…preparing to bring a little one into the new world • ANGST/SFW/NSFW - Nudity • TW: Pregnancy / Anxiety

Requested by: Anon

The archer quietly enters the house expecting no one and nothing going on, and for the most part that was true. He placed his crossbow by the door before making his way to the bedroom. To his surprise his partner was awake and he immediately brought himself up behind her wrapping his arms around her.

“Why are you awake?”

“Why did you come home late?”

“Don’t turn this on me, woman.” Daryl scoffs, pressing a kiss to her shoulder before pulling away about to lay in the bed when he noticed everything scattered on the mattress. “What’s all this?”

“The maps are of the communities. A few books on farming, composting,…uh. Infrastructure…”

“Why yea taking on all this stress when we’ve got somethin’ coming in two months?” The archer pointed to the belly on his now annoyed partner as she tosses the books she was holding onto the mattress, the baby books that Maggie has found/given to her. “Yeah Carol gave me one, but should’ve gone to yea if you had so many”

“Why are they all different! They all have the same scary things that could happen to me or the baby—-LIKE THE APOCALYPSE WASN’T ENOUGH” She snaps only for Daryl to push aside everything on the bed and making her sit down.

“Y/N, everything is different cuz of the apocalypse. But everything right now is fine” Daryl frowns sitting beside her trying to soothe her anxiety by rubbing up and down her leg. “Shouldn’t take on any extra stress, there’s a fuckton of people to take care of everythin’ else”

“I’m usually the one preaching that to you” Y/N giggles for a short lived moment as she looks down at her belly resting her hands on the bump. “…I just..”

“Hm?” Daryl gently nudges her, not receiving the rest of that sentence for a while as he brought himself closer. “Sunshine?”

“It’s just hard…having all this control back when he’s still around” She frowns feeling her hormones get the best of her, making the tears fall on the matter.

“He’s not gonna come anywhere near yea, unless he wants a death wish. You’re safe, we’re safe…he’s locked up and we gotta enjoy these moments”

“Before your attention is only on our son or daughter?”

That made her partner glare for a split second before bringing his arm around her shoulders pulling her in.

“If they’re anythin��� like you, it might be difficult to give yea both my undying love” Daryl jokes listening to her giggle as she smacks his chest.

The next morning came and the static from the radio picked up the voice from the other line. Daryl groans slightly when he heard it go from nothing to a clear voice.

“Daryl? You copy?”

“What” He sighs holding the radio up to his face as he returned to his laying position.

“You helping us today on the runs or the farming plans—-“

“Nope” Daryl cuts him off tossing the radio back on the nightstand before turning away wrapping his arm around Y/N who was half awake for that short lived conversation.

Then the static from another radio made both groan to the sound.

“Y/N, you around? Daryl cut me off. Was it poor connection?” Rick voices came through Y/N’s radio that she only had for emergencies or when she was a bit more involved in the rebuild since the Savior’s war ended. “I could really use him today. So please chime in. He’s most likely—-“ Y/N took her radio, turning her channel off before tossing the radio into her nightstand then returning back on her side already uncomfortable.

“He’s going to come to our door”

“I’ll punch him if he does” Daryl mumbles into her shoulder once he brought himself back against her.

The two slept in for a little while longer until Daryl got up to go make breakfast for his partner. He approaches the front door looking through the peep hole seeing the retired sheriff approaching, only for him to lock the door and continue on with his day.

Once Y/N eventually made her way to the kitchen after smelling something good, even if it took her a few minutes just to get out of bed. She noticed the front door was forcefully opened that when she rounded the corner to see Rick’s apologetic expression along with a red blotch getting worse on his face. She debated turning around and leaving.

“I thought y’all got hurt for ignoring and cutting my channel off”

“So…you broke in…with known residents that have PTSD?”

“When yea put it like that, then I don’t gotta have Daryl apologize for punching me in the face” Rick scoffs as Daryl came into view with a plate of food for Y/N noticing her debating expression.

“I’ll apologize when he fixes the door—-and yea ain’t eating this in bed” Daryl states setting the plate down and smacking Rick’s hand when he tried taking a piece of toast as Y/N quickly (in her own way) swiped the plate and eating her food in the kitchen.

“If y’all wanted a day off. Yea couldve—-“

“I’m seven months pregnant I shouldn’t have to ask”

“And I’m her husband”

“So you don’t have to ask because you’re the baby daddy?” Rick asks as he watches both of them turn toward him with an immediate glare. “Alright. I’ll fix the door tomorrow, give y’all the day” he got up from the table and went on his way, not knowing how he’ll explain the growing bruise on his face to Michonne.

Y/N started to laugh at the situation while eating the breakfast of toast, eggs, and fresh vegetables, Daryl prepared for her. “You should’ve asked, he would’ve said yes”

“I asked Michonne, she should’ve told Rick”

“She was most likely watching Judith, and forgot. I wonder how she’s going to react to the wound on her man”

“Like yea when I’d come back hurt”

“…I do hope Michonne doesn’t kill you, because that’s what I did last time” Y/N reminds Daryl as she brought herself back into the dining room taking a seat.

“She better be as feisty as you are” Daryl sat beside her resting his hand on her belly while she continued to eat.

“Think it’s gonna be a girl?”

“Mmm. I’d like a girl”

“Not a boy?”

“Well, do yea want me to tell yea I’d like one of each with yea when we haven’t even experienced one yet?” Daryl smirks with a bit of a head tilt as Y/N thought about it before smacking his forehead gently with her empty hand. “Yeah. We’ll see if she’s a monster and that’ll determine—-“

“He will not be a monster! May have your attitude but—-“

“Oh I’ve got an attitude?” Daryl leaned back crossing his arms as Y/N gave him a look that made him fold. “Alright. Sometimes. But she’s gonna come out more like yea”

Y/N snickered a bit, setting down the fork as she gestured for him to give her his hand which he did. She immediately places it on the part of her bump that is feeling a lot of the baby’s kicking.

“She is kicking the shit out of me—-and you are a feisty over-protective beast of a man, she’s turning out like you and I’d prefer it”

“So…we are agreeing on she?”

“If you agree on her personality being more like you” Y/N smiles taking another bite out of the tomato.

“She will have my strength, our feistiness, and if she’s over-protective with whatever it may be when she’s around? It could be either you or me” Daryl kept his attention on the baby as they continued to talk.

Once breakfast was done, Y/N made her way to the nursery while Daryl filled her canteen up again before meeting up with her.

“Should we get started on this?”

“Nah, no ‘we’”

“Seriously?” Y/N laughs, taking the offered canteen as she watches her husband push the rocking chair that Ezekiel gifted them into a clear corner. He then gestured her to come sit which she’ll happily do at this stage of the pregnancy.

“You direct and I’ll do. But I gotta get my tools for half of this” Daryl states taking a quick note of everything he’d have to hang up and as he did so, Y/N went through the basket of toys gifted and what Daryl has found on runs. “Alright I’m gonna—-“ he stopped when he noticed Y/N start sobbing while holding a plush bunny.

“Look how cute it is”

“Y/N…”

“It’s gonna be our baby’s! She’s gonna snuggle it at night and cry to you to check for monsters in the closet, reassure her and her bunny.” She continued to sob as she played with the bunny ears on the plush, feeling Daryl’s presence over her as he leans down just enough to wipe away her tears and give her reassuring kisses. “Oh my god we better have a girl”

“And why is that?” He says softly, brushing the hair away from her face and the stray tears.

“Daddy’s little girl…I can just picture it” Y/N smiles through the joyful tears. “This sweet little girl just attaching herself to you…always being held protectively by her daddy…you reading her bedtime stories, checking for monsters under the bed, always making sure she has her favorite plushie with her…you’d even cave when she has nightmares and wants to sleep with us. Her just fast asleep on your chest while you rub soothing circles on her back…”

Daryl can definitely picture it now, and this baby better be a girl. He’ll always make sure both his girls are perfect.

“You’re gonna make me cry if yea keep going”

“Okay…okay, go get your tools and let’s get some of this room done so we don’t stress later”

“Mhm. Not like she won’t be in a crib in our room for the first few months of her life”

“Oh I know she’s going to be on your side. You’re going to hog our baby” She laughs wiping away the dried tears as Daryl kisses the top of her head.

“Only seems fair cuz you’re carryin’ the little pumpkin for nine months”

“Oh I know my love. But unlike you? My breasts are useful” Y/N adds only to laugh after when he scoffs to that comment.

“Instead of us fightin’ for the baby, it’s gonna be me and the baby fightin’ over yea” Daryl made one last comment before going to get what he needs while Y/N continues to laugh and think about their little girl.

The archer worked on the nursery for a couple hours while listening to his girl talk about their baby and following her occasional instruction. She continued to talk about how this little girl will be his little princess that he wouldn’t dare let anything happen to her and a few moments he would have to stop to console his wife when she would start crying all over again at the thought. He even started to go on about how overwhelmingly in love he’ll be at the sight of both his girls together. Even in the apocalypse, he will try to get both his girls to match because he always thought that was a cute idea.

For someone whose exterior is mean and scary, he’s a total softie inside and that will only ever be shown to his girls.

“Think we should stop here”

“Yeah, thinkin’ I’ll shower before making yea dinner”

“Or…we could take a bath together and make dinner together after”

Daryl pondered the thought for a moment before ultimately agreeing, even if it’ll be a bit of a squeeze getting both in the tub.

Once they eventually got in and relaxed, Y/N leans back into Daryl after a moment in the bath looking up at him comfortably as he presses a kiss to her temple.

“You think…I’ll be a good mom?”

“Of course I do” He frowns wondering where that came from. “Everyone’s seen how you were with Judith…and Carl…even Sophia back then…”

“Yeah…but this is our baby, it’s going to be different”

“Yeah, it is…but just like the others, we have a village in case we need anybody. You’ve got me first though. Not like you’d need my help anyway”

“I’ll always need you, D” Y/N shifted slightly feeling Daryl’s arms wrap around her and continuing to leave occasional kisses to her temple. “It’s just scary. You’re a natural with kids, and you’re saying I am too…but this is going to be our first baby. I’m just scared of messing it up”

“Y’know messing up comes with the parenting job right?” Daryl chuckles lightly resting his cheek against her head. “It’s okay to fumble. We’ve got each other and we’ll be great in our own way. Baby ain’t even here and we love her to pieces”

“She’s going to be perfect”

“Yes she is…”

She’s going to be perfect because of you Daryl thought as the two were now back in their bed hours later, Y/N fast asleep facing her partner as he had his hand on her belly keeping an eye on her for a little while.

Before falling asleep himself and keeping close to the both of them. He really enjoyed these peaceful moments…

And can’t wait to spend it with both of them.

[tuulikannel]

Yeah... it's incorrect quotes from the generator, again. This time with the 5 virtuosos, plus a few extras with Karma thrown in too. ^^

Shuu: Good responses for being stabbed with a knife? Ren: Rude. Araki: That’s fair. Koyama: Not again. Seo: Are you going to want this back?

Shuu: Anyone d- Ren: Depressed? Araki: Drained? Koyama: Dumb? Seo: Disliked? Shuu: -done with their work… what is wrong with you people …

Shuu: Nothing in life is free. Ren: Love is free! Araki: Adventure is free. Koyama: Knowledge is free. Seo: Everything is free if you take it without paying.

Shuu, trying to convince Seo to join the group: You know… I thought it'd be good to have someone come along who's really… strong! Ren: And loud! Araki: And grumpy! Koyama: And oblivious to reality! Seo:

Shuu, walking into their house: Hello, people who do not live here. Ren: Hey. Araki: Hi. Koyama: Hello. Seo: Hey! Shuu: I gave you the key to my place for emergencies only! Karma: We were out of Doritos.

'Can I copy the homework?' Shuu: I can help you with it! Ren: Yeah, sure. Araki: Bold of you to assume I did the homework. Koyama: lol nope. Seo: Wait, we had homework?!?!?! Karma: *read 5:55pm*

Shuu: I CAN'T DO IT! Ren, laughing: I CAN'T EITHER! Shuu: I CAN'T FUCKING DO IT ANYMORE Araki: WELL I'LL TELL YOU WHAT, YOU CAN EITHER GIVE UP NOW, OR YOU CAN FIGURE IT OUT. BECAUSE WE CERTAINLY CAN'T DO IT WITHOUT YOU, AND WE KNOW YOU CAN'T DO IT WITHOUT US. Shuu: Shuu: I appreciate it, Shuu: BUT LOOK WHAT WE'RE DEALING WITH- Koyama: Shuu- Shuu: YOU GOTTA DRAW THE LINE SOMEWHERE! Seo: Shuu we gotta- Shuu: YOU GOTTA DRAW A FUCKING LINE IN THE SAND. YOU GOTTA MAKE A STATEMENT. Shuu: YOU GOTTA LOOK INSIDE YOURSELF AND SAY 'What am I willing to put up with today?' Shuu, motioning to Karma: NOT FUCKING THIS!

[amythystraine]

Embrace Your Inner Goddess... really

The following are excerpts from my book "The Divine Me", a 2023 release that is available at Amazon.

[excerpt]From the chapter: The Goddess in Every Day

Saturday, let's cleanse

Burn candles of black; burn incense of mimosa, hemp, and comfrey; carry in your pockets or adorn your body with black onyx, Apache tears, and obsidian.

Let’s work on… making ourselves feel safe, in whatever capacity this entails; taking extra precautions to secure our home; laying a line of defense against unexpected negativity; drawing boundaries that may be difficult but necessary to our wellbeing.

Kali ~ Hindu

Kali is the banshee screeching warrior goddess, the goddess of death and doom. The black goddess of revenge and bloodlust. But you gotta’ love her. It’s her energy that will fight to protect the innocent; it’s her energy that’s needed for retribution and accountability for the bad guys.

As the myth goes, Kali was born when she emerged from the forehead of the Goddess Durga and is believed to be the manifestation of that goddess’s anger. No wonder Kali has an attitude.

The most notable story I found on Kali involved her husband, Lord Shiva. After Kali was called upon to save the world by going on a rampage against a demon army led by Raktabija, she had herself so wrapped in murderous energy that she couldn’t stop herself and began destroying any living thing within her reach.

To cease this frenzied murder spree, her husband Shiva laid down in her path, blocking her way. Apparently, he thought that this would stop her. Silly idea. She was blinded to rationality and restraint, and she wildly started stomping the sh… er, bejeebers out of her own husband.

Oops.

Upon suddenly realizing her terrible mistake, overcome with remorse, laced with a wee bit of embarrassment, it’s said that she stuck out her bloody tongue. In some versions, it’s stated that she pulled her tongue out, either way, it makes for quite a visual.

[excerpt]

From the chapter: Facing the Mirror ~ How Do You Connect with Yourself

Be aware of your energy

Yes, learn to do this. It could save your life.

I was at a stop light in Fremont, Nebraska, southbound on Broad St. I was driving, my now ex-husband was sitting in the passenger seat. All of the sudden, yep, there it was, that “change” in energy. It’s so hard to describe because it can be so subtle. My reaction to it was that I froze. The red light turned green, and still, I sat there, frozen. My ex was shouting at me now, “Move, go!! The light is green!”

Nope, my body wouldn’t budge.

Within seconds, a car went speeding through a red light in front of us, west bound on 23rd St., at 60 or 70 miles an hour. If I would’ve been making my left hand turn onto this street, it would have broadsided us.

After this vehicle whooshed through this intersection, yep, there it was again, that weird change in energy. I was no longer frozen. I was also miffed at the man in the passenger seat and his attitude, so I turned to him calmly as he sat there now in shocked silence, open-mouthed, and I said, “Okay, now it’s time to move.”

[xavier-elrose]

Look, 'good' is...kind of an ephemeral concept.

Take me. I saw a world that had loads of problems, and I thought to myself, "I can solve those problems!" And so I set out to do so.

But problems have a tendency to be complicated, and sticky, and intertwined. Not to mention structural. I set out to improve the world, and eventually that turned into something that looked an awful lot like conquering it.

For that, they called me the Demon King.

And...fair enough, I guess? I certainly employed a fair few demons to get things done, grabbed power from whatever source I could, as long as the price wasn't too great.

I firmly stand by the idea that 'good' isn't in the appearance of a thing, but in how it changes the world. Feeding a destitute person looks nice, but I strongly believe that it's nowhere near as good as creating a functional economic system, such that that person is never destitute and hungry in the first place. Don't just solve a recurring problem once- make it go away permanently.

Which is not to say I was good- I certainly wasn't. I tried to be, and that's not nothing, but...

Well. It turns out that problems, and people, are complicated. I solved some problems, caused others, used some...less than thrilling methods, in trying to get everything cleaned up, and eventually there were rebellions everywhere. I had no options for saving the village that didn't involve destroying it. And, if you think about that statement, you will realize that destroying a village does not, in fact, save it.

The hero 'beat' me. I was pretty tired of trying to figure things out, anyway. Let someone else screw things up for a while. I'm just gonna retire, write my memoirs, and hope that the whole thing will prove useful to someone, down the line.

Not the hero, of course. It took all of five minutes for him to turn into a power-hungry despot. Revolutions can be like that. At least it's not my problem, any more.

Up until it suddenly was.

My Panic Stone started chirping. My family had shown...less than perfect discipline, when it came to the "only use these in an emergency" thing, but it was still better to check it out, just in case. It's not like teleportation took much magic, anyway.

Which is how I found myself staring down the hero who had 'defeated' me, and several of his thugs, who had been threatening and extorting my family.

I sighed. Really wish it had been a false alarm. "Look. Just this once, I'm willing to look the other way. No harm, no foul- you guys leave, I give my family some hugs, we call the whole thing a misunderstanding."

The hero spat. "Hell no. Taxes need to be collected, and this household hasn't paid theirs."

"How do you know?"

"They've got a house, and clothes, and they're obviously well-fed. I've never seen such an obvious group of tax cheats."

Ah, the splendors of a victorious strongman. Things had gotten pretty nasty, in my absence. And now the problems of the new regime had come home to roost.

"If you listen to what you just said, you might find a hint of an underlying problem. As it stands, this is your last chance- leave, or get your ass kicked."

There was a cruel grin on the heroes face, and he drew his sword. "Oh? I've gotta kick your ass again in order to collect my taxes, old man? Then I guess we're doing this."

I sighed. It had been a stupid threat on my part, but I'd hoped that the hero was clever enough to figure out that, when I lost, I hadn't been fighting with my full strength. Or technique. Or maybe just clever enough to notice that I'd been awfully quiet, for a still-living former sovereign, and that maybe he should read something into that.

Nope. 'Clever' doesn't get you very far, if you want to be a proper hero. People don't want clever solutions, they want sword-chopping and ass-kicking. They want a show.

The hero charged, a good opening move for a fight that's going to be a show.

I teleported a specialized weapon into my hand, a pole with a hook on the end. I teleported myself just past the hero, positioned just right for hooked pole, held behind me, to drive itself into his eye.

It wasn't very showy at all- I'd have never become a hero with moves like that. I just fought to win, and audiences never want to see that.

Still. A little mana, the tiniest smidgen of physical exertion, and my opponent was down an eye (and disoriented). Give the hero credit, though- he didn't flinch at the pain, and swung at me with his sword, even though he didn't have the firmest idea of where I was.

Not that it would have mattered if he had, because I swiftly wasn't there. I didn't go far- I just changed position enough to show off that a hook on a pole is also, in skilled hands, a pretty effective disarming weapon.

It was at moments like this that I wished I really was a deeply-evil demon king. I'm sure one of them would have loved the look on the heroes face, rage and desperation slowly being overcome by plain fear. As it was, I mostly felt a profound sense that the world should have been better. He hadn't set out to be evil, any more than I had. Things just...hadn't gone very well. He deserved it, no question, but...did he, really? How different was he from me, when you got down to it?

I sighed, and lowered my weapon. The thugs around us still had theirs up, and were trying to look tough. But they also knew that their boss seriously outclassed them in combat, and that he'd just had his ass kicked, painfully, by someone who wasn't really trying.

Even thugs can have a smidgen of sense, if the price of stupidity is obviously high.

"Are we done here?"

The hero snarled, and seemed to fight a strong urge to go for another weapon. He had a few daggers and similar, but he, too, was having to drag his rage forward against a tide of sense, and the knowledge that more stupidity would likely be even more expensive.

Sense, in the end, prevailed.

"Fine," he spat, "men, we're headed back."

I watched as they left. There, but for the grace of actually thinking every once in a while, go I.

You were once the demon king. “Defeated” by the hero, you went into hiding to pursue a simpler life. Today the “hero” has appeared, threatening you family to pay tribute, not realizing who you actually are. Today you show them what happens when you have something worth fighting to protect.

[tsugarubecker]

I gotta say - I was not at all looking forward to a fucking love triangle of all things in Young Royals season 2. I was like. Really? Serious? What a tired trope. Thought y’all were more inventive than this mundanity, and these two have so many other external stressors - do we really need to add this into the mix in order to create drama?

But nope I stand corrected. I have probably never seen a more realistic portrayal of what it looks like to try to rebound with someone, kinda keep them on the line just in case, use them when you’re feeling rebuked, etc etc. Simon is definitely not a perfect person - he’s human - and man if we haven’t all been in his exact shoes before. I know I’ve had similar experiences.

The best part about it was that it wasn’t a love triangle. We the audience knew that Simon’s heart was never in it - he was utterly emotionally unavailable and incapable of feeling anything for Marcus from day one. Again, the most realistic portrayal. I think of Love, Victor season 2 and the ridiculous love triangle there and how shallow it felt (the emergence of comparable depth of feeling over the course of 24 hours? Fuck off). The difference in how this was handled - striking. So much depth and grounding in reality.

Bravo to YR for being probably the only show I’ve ever seen introduce a “love triangle” that I didn’t detest.

[doctorprofessorsong]

A dramatic re-telling of my SPNDen adventure

So, I was supposed to go to the gold panel, but I had to run to the room for something. The elevator stops on the third floor and the doors open a few inches, close again, open a bit, close. Stop. I'm decidedly stuck.

I calmly (frantically) press every button, nothing happens.

So I call the emergency services with the call button. "Please hold for emergency services. *hold music."

Well fuck. Like a modern person with 12 minutes to get out of the elevator, I send completely normal messages like "HELP. I'M STUCK IN THE ELEVATOR." Nothing goes through.

It occurs to me this is my fault for locking Dean and Cas in an elevator in TBATT.

Someone comes on the line "emergency services how may I help you?"

I inform them I am stuck in the elevator. The operator responds as if I have ordered a value meal and she needs to know what soda I want: "is the power out?"

I confirm that my new prison is well lit. She says OK I'll let them know call if there are further emergencies. Click.

I am like: she didn't even ask me where I was? The doors open again a few inches.

I try pulling them. They stubbornly mock me. I wish Misha Collins, beefcake, was there. I try pacing a bit to see if I can get service. Nothing happens.

Finally, I hear someone walk by. I scream through the crack in the door to go tell the front desk and thankfully they do.

The facilities guy shows up and informs me the fire department is coming. As an added bonus to intermittent opening and closing of the doors, the emergency alarm also goes off sometimes.

I am now not making the beginning of the panel.

The fire department shows up. Finally! I will be free! This is gonna make such a great story in the panel if I'm...nope. they can't get the doors open. But now in addition to the intermittent wail of the alarm, the elevator is shaking as they try to use a tool to pry the doors open.

The doors are as stubborn as Cas, who ignores all my prayers to fly me away. Ass (affectionate). Perhaps I am an abomination.

A firefighter decides to pry the door open from the top. Much shaking ensues. He yells down that the doors are bent.

I joke: so are you saying I live here now?

The firefighter: haha. No. We'll just bring you through the top.

Me: oh nooooooo.

See I am doing great in my new tiny room actually. What I don't enjoy is heights.

And this is high. And small. And actually, I'm good.

The firefighters, unconcerned with the impending hit to my pride (it's as if they are unimpressed with my CLEAR bravery. I'm basically a hero at this point 😅)

They drop a ladder straight down. Understand this ladder is too short. It barely reaches the panel and it's supposed to be angled.

This is definitely how I die. Cool.

I hear the following discussion:

Firefighter 1: you gotta go down

Firefighter 2: oh am I the smallest on the truck

Firefighter 1: yeah. Neither of us are going to fit.

My brain: oh no. What if my ass doesn't fit through the skyhole? I am gonna be like Winnie the Pooh stuck in the cave, getting pushed.

Me (probably).

The firefighter does that cool slide thing they do without touching the rungs.

He has me climb up the ladder. I cannot overstate how much I, and therefore the ladder, is shaking. My buddy firefighter 2, bless him, is like: I'm not gonna let you fall, ma'am.

I get to the top of the ladder and very cooly (complete and total panic) point out (hysterically screech) there is nothing to hold onto.

Firefighter 1 (bless him) says: ma'am, do you want to hold on to me?

I grab his arm so tight the poor man probably has bruises and pull myself out. My ass and I make it...

But not to the J2 panel.

I thank them profusely. Confirm I do not require medical assistance and resolve not to see them again.

I see them a few hours later responding to the fire alarm and medical event.

The Aurora Fire Department is the real MVP of the con.

[chill-pills-yandere-haven]

Incorrect Quotes From the Sagau Programmer au!

An: I put some names into an incorrect quote generator and voila! Enjoy

Programmer au pt 3 should come out on the weekend, I hope.

For those who don't know what Programmer sagau is, basically, you are a programmer for mihoyo but you get isekaied into the world of genshin by the Sagau characters. The story for my programmer au is called "God is overworked, underpaid, and touch starved. Triple threat!"

:readmore:

*The squad is over at Programmer!Darling's house*

Araashita: Ohhhh, we each get our own oven?

Programmer!Darling: ... N-No...

Programmer!Darling, laughing: How many ovens do you think I have???

Araashita, motioning to their kitchen: Three, I thought!

Venti: I see a-

Programmer!Darling, motioning to one device: This is a microwave.

Araashita: Oh, well I-

Programmer!Darling: Hey wait wait, actually- hang on- *fiddles with the buttons on the microwave*

Programmer!Darling, amazed: Its got a bake setting!

Kaeya: Ohoho, you learn something new every day!

Childe: Do we- Do we roshambo for who gets to pick first?

Programmer!Darling: Now I've just discovered I have more ovens than I thought, we don't have to roshambo nothin!

Programmer!Darling: I am someone who owns four ovens...

Programmer!Darling, louder and way too happy: I am someone... who owns FOUR OVENS...

Programmer!Darling: I didn't know I was so rich with ovens...

Ei, pointing to another appliance: Also the toaster oven!

Programmer!Darling:

Araashita: Ohhh, toasty boy! Four- Five ovens!

Programmer!Darling:

Programmer!Darling, fucking ECSTATIC: I AM SOMEONE WHO OWNS FIVE OVENS'

Can I copy the homework?'

Programmer!Darling: I can help you with it!

Araashita: Yeah, sure.

Venti: Bold of you to assume I did the homework.

Kaeya: lol nope.

Childe: Wait, we had homework?!?!?!

Ei: *Read 5:55pm*

*The squad right before Programmer!Darling's wedding*

Araashita: Well I have to go, I have a wedding to attend.

Venti: Wait... Oh! I have a wedding to attend too!

Kaeya: Oh, I have a wedding to attend as well

Childe: I THINK WE ALL HAVE WEDDINGS TO ATTEND

Ei, panicked: I THINK I HAVE A WEDDING TO OFFICIATE

Programmer!Darling, walking into their house: Hello, people who do not live here.

Araashita: Hey.

Venti: Hi.

Kaeya: Hello.

Childe: Hey!

Programmer!Darling: I gave you the key to my place for emergencies only!

Ei: We were out of Doritos.

*Squad reactions to being told ‘I love you’*

Programmer!Darling: Thanks fam!

Araashita: oh no

Venti: *cries* I love you too

Kaeya: Sounds fake but okay

Childe: *A flustered mess*

Ei: can i get a refund

Programmer!Darling: I CAN'T DO IT!

Araashita, laughing: I CAN'T EITHER!

Programmer!Darling: I CANT FUCKING DO IT ANYMORE

Venti: WELL I'LL TELL YOU WHAT, YOU CAN EITHER GIVE UP NOW, OR YOU CAN FIGURE IT OUT. BECAUSE WE CERTAINLY CAN'T DO IT WITHOUT YOU, AND WE KNOW YOU CAN'T DO IT WITHOUT US.

Programmer!Darling:

Programmer!Darling: I appreciate it,

Programmer!Darling: BUT LOOK WHAT WE'RE DEALING WITH-

Kaeya: Programmer!Darling-

Programmer!Darling: YOU GOTTA DRAW THE LINE SOMEWHERE!

Childe: Programmer!Darling we gotta-

Programmer!Darling: YOU GOTTA DRAW A FUCKING LINE IN THE SAND. YOU GOTTA MAKE A STATEMENT.

Programmer!Darling: YOU GOTTA LOOK INSIDE YOURSELF AND SAY 'What am I willing to put up with today?'

Programmer!Darling, motioning to Ei: NOT FUCKING THIS

Programmer!Darling: I'm incredibly fast at math.

Araashita: Alright, what's 30x17?

Programmer!Darling: 47

Araashita: That's not even close.

Programmer!Darling: But it was fast.

Programmer!Darling: What the fuck is wrong with you?!

Araashita: Wow, you could start with a 'good morning'.

Programmer!Darling: Good morning. What the fuck is wrong with you?!

Programmer!Darling, Araashita, and Venti are sitting on a bench

Kaeya: Why do you guys look so sad?

Programmer!Darling: Sit down with us so we can tell you.

*Kaeya sits down*

Araashita: The bench is freshly painted.

Programmer!Darling: You lying, cheating, piece of shit!

Araashita: Oh yeah? You’re the idiot who thinks you can get away with everything you do. WELCOME TO THE REAL WORLD

Programmer!Darling: I’m leaving you, and I’M TAKING ZHONGLI WITH ME

Kazuha, picking up the monopoly board: I think we’re gonna stop playing now.

Programmer!Darling: What time is it?

Araashita: I don’t know; pass me that saxophone and we’ll find out

Araashita: *Plays sax loudly and extremely out of tune*

Zhongli: WHO THE FUCK IS PLAYING THE SAXOPHONE AT TWO IN THE MORNING

Araashita: It’s 2 am

Programmer!Darling: What do you think Araashita will do for a distraction?

Zhongli: They’ll probably, like, make a noise or throw a rock. That’s what I would do.

*Building explodes and several car alarms go off*

Zhongli: ... or they could do that.

Programmer!Darling: If you bite it and you die, it’s poisonous. If it bites you and you die, it’s venomous.

Araashita: What if it bites me and it dies!?

Zhongli: Then you’re poisonous. Jesus Christ, Araashita, learn to listen.

Kazuha: What if it bites itself and I die?

Childe: That’s voodoo.

Ei: What if it bites me and someone else dies?

Araashita: That’s correlation, not causation.

Kazuha: What if we bite each other, and neither of us die?

Childe: That’s kinky.

Programmer!Darling: Oh my God.

Programmer!Darling: Just be yourself.

Araashita: 'Be myself'? Programmer!Darling, I have one day to win Zhongli over. How long did it take before you guys started liking me?

Kazuha: Couple weeks.

Childe: Six months.

Ei: Jury’s still out.

Araashita: See, Programmer!Darling?

Araashita: 'Be myself'. What kind of garbage advice is that?

[skellebonez]

Because I'm sure this is going to be inevitable, how about some angst for the Chaos Trio (Mei, Jin and Yin)? With 61 and 52

Oh I have been looking forward to Chaos Trio angst since you sent me this, anon. Despite how they act in show... I think Jin and Yin are not exactly harmless. Especially if you mess with people they start to consider family.

The Cursed AU and the Chaos Trio in it come from @winterpower98!

Warning: blood and head injuries, enemy demons limbs (not detailed).

That is not a good hiding spot./I am a really bad actor.

Things had been going pretty well, all things considered. Jin and Yin had no problem getting Mei to join them in a little bit of... let's say "competitive insurance" as it were. They had to make sure they were secured in their own little tech related ventures, and after some financial setbacks they needed extra fallback. They’d planned the whole thing out with her help, more than 2 steps and everything! She was good at that.

The problem was that someone got a lucky hit.

They would have made it out with no problems, if they all hadn't decided going on Mei's motorcycle as a group (which, now that Yin thought about it, was probably incredibly dangerous and illegal with 3 of them on it... not that they cared about legality for themselves but somehow when it came to Mei that suddenly made them concerned). But nope. 1 bike. 3 people.

One lucky shot to the rear tire.

The three of them went flying, Mei landing very impressively on her feet whole Jin and Yin bounced on a bush and thanked anyone listening that demons were sturdier than humans. They didn't thank anyone for the pieces of bike that came flying at them all, and they were certain that they heard a piece make contact with something hard, maybe the nearby light pole, but couldn't be sure.

By the time they looked up they just knew they had a group of very angry demons that were pissed they stole and then wiped their code for... something, didn't matter to the twins what it was. They just wanted their competition out of the way. For solely selfish reasons. Nothing else. Not like they wanted it to see what it was and maybe figure out a counter attack so that certain overpowered people with monkey motifs would have an easier time in the future.

Not a chance.

As they fought off the attacking demons they insisted to themselves they didn't care that much.

"That is not a good hiding spot!" Jin yelled across the battlefield as Yin ducked behind crates. "Just chuck it for now and beat em with the blunt end of something else!"

"Just give me 2 seconds, I can fix it!" Yin yelled back, trying his best to reassemble a part of his sword hilt that had broken off.

"Come on, these guys ain't so tough!" Mei laughed out, easily dodging projectiles and backsliding and slicing and dicing as she went. No one was actually killed, but they were lucky because the only reason for that was the young woman wasn't exactly out for blood. They'd be feeling every single hit well into morning though! She was doing much better than the two of them. "Grab a pipe or something! Wish I had MK's magic building power though, I'd rather not be here all-YIN!"

The younger twin looked up from where he had been crouched, eyes widening as he saw the form of a much larger demon hulking over him and ready to batter him with a club.

Things had been going well. All things considered. Then someone got a second lucky hit.

Right as Mei dove in to push the younger silver twin out of the way.

For a second the fighting stopped. There was just the sound of wood hitting hard plastic and fiberglass as the club was sliced in half by her sword and the lopped off half continued it's trajectory and slammed into Mei's head to lead to her crumbling on top of Yin. Jin stood on too of a pile of crates, watching as a line of red seeped through a crack in her visor and stained the white of her suit.

And then his entire vision was red as he lunged at the demon and sliced, sending his arm flying in the opposite direction.

The demon screamed, holding the stump that was his arm from the elbow down, backing away as quickly as he could. "W-what the hell!?"

"Mei," Yin said softly, carefully clicking the emergency release button to make her helmet digitize away. Her eyes were closed, blood dripping from a slice running along her scalp... but as far as he could tell it was from part of the helmet being cracked and cutting her. She was most likely knocked out from the impact, breathing odd but steady in her unconscious state. "You... we're going to get you to the hospital."

His tone hardened as he carefully laid her on the ground, standing tall as he grabbed his broken weapon and a nearby piece of broken steel.

"You. Are going. To pay for that," Yin said coldly, stance no longer lose and half playful as it had been the whole battle. His stood tall, eyes wide and cold and the demons surrounding them felt a chill run down their spines.

Jin stood in front of him, blood from the other demon splattered across his face and chest in a stark contrast to his orange visage.

This... this wasn't the pair of Gold and Silver Demons they had heard about before. They were known for not taking almost anything seriously, making bad deals and pacts and weird blood oaths they wasted on bizarre favors. They were known for being good at tach but not much else, most demons in the area knew vaguely of their history with the Monkey King but even that ended in failure. Their plans were half baked, goofy, and lately they'd heard they'd gotten roped in with the Monkey King's successor and renewed flame of the Six-Eared Macaque.

The two standing before them did not look like the demons they'd heard about.

Mei hadn't wanted to seriously hurt anyone. The demons heard her yelling as much on the battlefield. But now Mei was hurt.

And the twins did.

It happened fast. They wanted to get it over with quickly. Mei had also not wanted to kill anyone at the very least the twins could do was keep up their promise from earlier in the day to avoid that. And they did.

That didn't mean there weren't lost limbs. Hands and arms. A leg or two. More than a couple eyes were lost. Someone lost an ear. Another a tail and horn.

Injuries they could recover from meant as warnings.

All it took was 3 minutes and the entire storage area they crashed in was a mix of grey and brown and red. Demons holding their injuries or running off.

The one who had attacked Yin and hurt Mei stood in awe and fear, looking down at the smaller twins who has decimated an entire group so fast.

"I-how!?" He yelled, backing up slowly. "This isn't possible, you're not this strong!"

"Who told you that?" Yin asked slowly, tilting his head and watching as the demon realized... he'd never heard they couldn't fight. "We don't fight like this because we don't want to. Never meant we can't."

"Why?"

"We are really bad actors," Jin said, wiping the blood off his weapon on an unconscious demon's shirt. "Why bother trying to hold back when we can just hide it by not trying?" He turned to the demon, glowering coldly as he watched his brother pick Mei up carefully. "Tell anyone who asks nothing. We'd like to keep it that way. Unless you want a round two where someone else doesn't hold us back."

And then they were gone.

~

"What in the actual hell happened?" Macaque asked in an even tone. Practiced even. A dangerous even.

"Well-" "You see boss-" "we kinda-" "-there was-"

Jin and Yin tried to think of a reasonable excuse, faltering as everything they thought of sounded worse and worse in their heads.

The two sat in Mei's hospital room, towels draped around their shoulders. They’d been smart enough to stash Mei's bike somewhere safe and wash off in the ocean before coming to the hospital, less covered in demon blood meant less scared humans when they rushed in with Mei in tow, and it was easy to make the nurses believe them.

Simple bike accident, friend hurt, help please.

With Macaque staring them down with his patented death glower, shadows growing and warping around the room in response to him, it was infinitely harder.

Of course Mei's emergency contact was MK. Of course MK could call Macaque before her parents (who were apparently on their way back from some kind of dragon family business trip when they learned). Of course Macaque would show up almost immediately and begin asking questions.

"It was my fault," Mei chimed in, voice slightly off from having awoken with a nasty concussion. "I thought it'd be fun to go on a joy ride late at night, I've done it before without issues! But, uh... I've never had two passengers before... and we hit something. Don't be mad at them?"

Macaque looked like he believed Mei as much as he believed Tang would lose interest in the Monkey King and switch his field of study to obscure methods of basket weaving. Which is to say: he didn’t. But he sighed, giving Mei a small smile as the shadows returned to normal.

"Ok," he said softly, tone much more gentle with the dragon descendant as he reached out to brush loose hair out of her face. "I won't be mad at them. I'll be very disappointed-" his tone hardened for a second at those words as he turned to the twins with a glower again. "-but I won't be mad. Do you need anything?"

"Maybe a candy bar from the vending machines outside?" Mei asked with a smile.

"Sure," Macaque laughed and shook his head, moving to the corner of the room. "I'll be right back."

He sunk into the shadows, a cool trick that the twins would always be impressed by, and they breathed a sigh of relief at knowing they were alone. For now.

"You didn't have to do that," Jin said, frowning at Mei in concern. Maybe it was just because he was now the eldest in the room, but some kind of protective feel pulled at him.

"I know," Mei said with a tired laugh, laying back into her pillow. "But you guys are like... my bros. I gotta stand up for my bros."

And that made both Jin and Yin pause. They looked at each other, eyes widening as they both came to a realization that was probably a very long time coming at that point.

"Yeah..." Yin said, a soft smile forming on his face. "We'd do the same for you... you know, if you didn't take that hit for me you probably would have kicked everyone's ass way better than us! We barely got out by the skin of our teeth!" A full truth and a blatant lie, but he hoped Mei wouldn't pick up on that second part.

"You know it, boi!" She didn't.

It was odd for him in particular. Yin had never really thought of himself as an older brother before.

First time for everything.

[youngbeezer]

The Morning Shift | Alex Turcotte

A/N: Since we all seem to collectively be in our alex feels the past few days, I’ve decided to write a lil blurb for him (ft. his canadian bf quinton)!! Feedback always appreciated and hope you like it :)

Warnings: None; short & sweet

Word Count: 835

Tagging a few people who follow me (if you wish for me to stop tagging you just lmk I won’t be offended!!)

@mysoftboybowen @fratboyzegras @sorokns @maattamatthews @jamiesdrysdales

I don’t normally work the morning shift, I’ll admit I like my sleep so I tend to stray towards picking up any afternoon or closing shifts at the cafe. Last night though, one of my coworkers texted me last minute asking to pick up her shift because she had a family emergency. Of course I take it, which leads to the present moment: me tiredly dragging my feet around trying to keep up with the morning hustle. 

From the corner of my eye I see the front door open with two huge (incredibly handsome) dudes strolling in. I make eye contact with the shorter of the two before quickly averting my gaze when he gives me a little smirk. Continuing to organize all the utensils and sugar packets I unintentionally eavesdrop on the two guys' hushed conversation. The most I could make out was around the lines of ‘make a move, you won't’, ‘what would I even say?’, ‘bro just go already or I will’, ‘fuck off, I’m going.’ 

When I hear footsteps approaching, I immediately try to act casual and like I wasn’t just full on listening in on their conversation just now. Then the next minute, the cute guy is standing right next to me browsing through our sugar packets. 

I give him a quick once over and then glance over to his friend who has his eyes glued to us like we’re his favorite soap opera. I bring my attention back to the boy next to me who now has his eyes focused on mine. He clears his throat before giving me a little head nod in greeting before bringing his attention back to the sugar packets. Ok… 

“So, you come here often?” He finally speaks. And lemme just say one thing, his voice is sexy.

I quietly snicker to myself before replying, “Well, considering I work here, yes.” 

I hear his buddy choke on air in the background before letting out a loud hoot that causes the cute guy to start blushing. 

He recovers by asking, “Are you new? I’ve never seen you around before.” 

“Nope, I’ve worked here for 2 years. I do usually work the afternoon shifts though,” I answer.

“Ah got it. Guess I gotta start coming in here later then eh?” He looks down at my chest when he discovers a name tag and adds, “... y/n.” 

Raising my eyebrows at his sudden boldness, I go back to my task at hand smiling to myself. 

He heaves out a sigh before continuing, “I’m totally butchering this, aren’t I?” 

Chuckling I respond, “Eh I’ll give you a solid 6/10. Gave you a few bonus points cause you’re cute.” 

Shining me his pearly whites (he has a great smile by the way) he questions, “Does a 6/10 earn me a number maybe?” Then he adds with a little smirk, “Keep in mind that you think I’m cute.” 

“I don’t even know your name.” I remark.

“Alex--”

“And I’m Quinton!” His buddy juts in while giving me a cheeky little wave and smile. 

Letting out a little snort, I start making my way back over to the registers to help the customer impatiently waiting for assistance. 

While I start making the customer’s drink order, Alex makes a little pit stop to where Quinton is standing and mumbles a quick ‘dude’ before giving him a light slap to the back of the head. He then makes his way back over to me. Leaning against the counter Alex questions, 

“Sooo… about that number?”

Instead of replying I give him a question of my own, “Are you going to order anything?”

Huffing out a breath of air he sighed out, “Uh yeah, I’ll just get an iced coffee.” 

Getting to work on making his coffee, I see Alex make his way over to his buddy giving him a little shrug. Smirking to myself, I take my time on making sure everything is right before grabbing a sharpie next to the register. 

“Iced coffee for Alex.” I announce while putting down the coffee on the pick-up counter. Alex makes his way over awkwardly, taking his coffee and giving me a quiet ‘thanks’ before making his way out of the shop with his buddy Quinton trailing after him. 

Waiting patiently, I finally see him take a peek at his coffee cup noticing writing on it.

His head whips around to meet my gaze once he notices what is written on the cup. A number. Giving him a little wink, he lets out a surprised laugh before grinning at me one last time and exiting the cafe. 

Smiling to myself, I get back to work, but not before getting interrupted by a little pang coming from my phone. Quickly sneaking a peek I find a new text message: 

‘Hey it’s Alex, the cute 6/10!’

‘What’d say to maybe getting dinner one night so I can try to bump that 6 to about a 7 or 8/10?’

Maybe the morning shift isn’t so bad... 

[guqin-and-flute]

[You know how there’s a set of fics I promised to work on first? Apparently that was a lie! 😘 This is just epilogue, Post-Reconciliation fluff with teenage Jingyi--he’s probably 15-16 CW: Moderate descriptions of dead bodies and injuries in reference to a game they’re playing]

[3zun Raise Jingyi AU] [Main Fic][Ao3 Link]

“Are you you cold?”

“Oh yeah, very.”

“Are you animated?”

“No.”

“Do I know you?”

“Nope.”

“Hmm.”  Yellow-Father flipped the page of the book he was examining, eyes still on his work. “Are there obvious wounds?”

“Yup, my organs are all chewed up, throat torn out, and...let’s say my nose is gone.” Jingyi thumped his chin into his hands, sticking his legs straight out under the low table in the middle of Yellow-Father’s office, idly waggling his feet. 

Next to him at the table, Gray-Father looked like he was falling asleep, his cheek all smushed against his propped up fist, eyes mostly closed, but he still grunted, “Shape of the teeth marks?”

Jingyi squinted into space and wrinkled his nose, considering. “Oblong?”

Yellow-Father twitched a half smirk without looking up from what he was signing. “Oblong teeth?”

“No, oblong...jaw shape or whatever,” Jingyi waved his hand dismissively, wiping away his previous words before drawing a long, thin U-shape in the air with his index finger. 

Gray-Father cracked one eye open to take in the sketch, then closed it again. “Not a fierce corpse, then.”

With an air of exaggerated mystery, Jingyi shrugged, then sprawled backward on the floor so he took up the rest of the walkway in front of the door. “Whoooo’s to say? Is that your guess?”

“Boy, I said it wasn’t a fierce corpse, why would that be my guess?”

“Well, you’re trying to fish for unauthorized information, Chifeng-zun, you gotta play by the rules,” Jingyi shot back sternly, jabbing a serious and admonishing finger in his direction.

Though his eyes were closed, it was very clear that Gray-Father rolled them.

Yellow-Father heaved a sigh and drummed his fingers idly on his desk, gaze roving over the piles of paper as he sucked on his teeth in thought--though, Jingyi had to admit, probably not just about their game. Yellow-Father seemed to operate on several levels at once at all times. “Are there deep puncture marks?” 

“Uhhh...sort of?”

Finally, Yellow-Father looked up to shoot him an amused glance over his desk edge.  “’Sort of?’ That’s hardly fair or specific.” Rising, he gathered a stack of scrolls and came around his desk, stepping easily over Jingyi’s supine form before rapping smartly on the door with his knuckles. 

“Like...teeth marks are technically puncture marks.”

After a moment, the door slid open and a harried looking Jin courier took the pile without a word and disappeared down the hall. Yellow-Father closed the door and turned back. “Yes, I suppose. I’m asking specifically about fangs.”

Lolling his head over, Jingyi watched as he stepped back over him without even looking, robe hem brushing over his belly. He barely fought the sudden urge to grab his ankles as he might have when he was younger. He managed not to--but it was definitely a close thing. “It’s not a snake.”

“What?” Gray-Father demanded, sounding offended.

Jingyi lolled his head back to see his eyes open, glaring at him in mock reproach. “You’ll tell him it’s not a snake but you can’t confirm it’s not a fierce corpse without threatening to take away my guess? How is that playing by the rules?”

“Aha,” Jingyi raised his finger straight into the air again as he proclaimed, “But it is.” Then, he pointed back down at himself. “Because I make the rules.” 

Gray-Father gave a derisive huff through his nose, but smiled. “Yeah, that was cute when you were 5. Not so much anymore.”

“Um, whatever, I’m adorable. Dieeee, are you done yet? I’m bored. When is Blue-die done with his meeting? I wanna gooo.” 

“Patience, Jingyi, I need to clean up. And he’s coming.” Yellow-Father rustled about on his desk, neatly packing everything away into drawers and piles that Jingyi thought were a little excessive--like, why did it need to be that clean? “Where did we find you, again?”

With an exaggerated scoff, Jingyi shook his head slowly, feeling the hard floor beginning to dig into the knob at the back of his skull. He’d have to sit up soon. “Wooow, you find a dead body and you don’t even care enough to remember your surroundings. This must be just any other day to you.”

“In the woods, he said,” Gray-Father betrayed him easily, so Jingyi raised his head to shoot him a glare, but his eyes were closed again. Wriggling closer, he punched the side of his rock of a thigh, earning him a chuckle and Gray-Father leaning down to flip the ends of his fanned out hair over his face.

“Woods, thin, oblong jaws, deep tooth marks, throat torn out, organs and nose gone--or at least chewed on,” Yellow-Father ticked off precisely down an imaginary list as he turned from shelving to continue puttering around. “I’m guessing; wolves.”

Heaving himself upright, Jingyi crashed his hands together just as the gold, white, and blue painted door slid open once again and he bellowed. “GUAAAUAUAUANG!” 

Framed in the doorway, Blue-Father stopped short and blinked at the sudden noise but smiled in amusement. “’Guaaaung?’” When Jingyi thrust out his hands demandingly, he stepped in and obligingly gave him custody of one of his arms. “Hello.”

“Almost done, Er-ge,” floated Yellow-Father’s voice from the closet.

“Clearly, it’s a gong noise.” Jingyi used his arm to haul himself to his feet--Blue-Father didn’t even sway. “They won; I was murdered by wolves.”

At this pronouncement, his blue father cocked his head down at him, smile turning quizzical as Jingyi dusted off the seat of his robes. “...Ah?”

Gray-Father blew out a breath and shook himself awake, unfolding slowly from the table.  “We were playing Dead Body while we waited for you and A-Yao to be done,” he explained, then gave a hugely expansive stretch, scrunching his face up. “I was thinking it was wolves, but I was waiting for the usual twist.”

Yellow-Father emerged from the closet with a smug smile and murmured, “Mmm, of course you were,” to which Gray-Father leaned over the desk and swatted at his butt--he easily dodged. 

“The twist was that there was no twist, this time,” Jingyi said sagely, hands on his hips. “Are we good to go? Finally?”

“I...yes.” Blue-Father still had on that ‘I still don’t know what’s going on here’ smile as Yellow-Father closed the shutters against the streaming sun and joined them. “How does one play Dead Body, exactly?” he asked curiously as he leaned down to let Yellow-Father kiss his cheek hello just before they made their way out into the hall.

Pretending to hold back barf was something Jingyi did less because he cared about them kissing and more because it was his job as annoying teenage son to do things like that. In any case, he was rewarded by Gray-Father wrapping him in a casual headlock, then ignoring him when he flailed to escape as Yellow-Father locked up his office. “You mean you’ve never played Dead Body with him?”

“Mm, not that I recall--and I feel like I would remember something like that.”

From his chaotic and squished vantage point, he saw Yellow-Father look down at him--all captured and partially strangled and sputtering under Gray-Father’s arm. He rolled his eyes, and fondly scolded, “Let him breathe, Da-ge.”

Easily, Gray-Father complied. Wonderful, blessed air flooded back into Jingyi’s lungs--which he immediately used for retaliation by leaping onto Gray-Father’s back like a monster spider and wrapping him in a headlock of his own. Yellow-Father winced and hissed, “Mind Baxia, Fufu, for gods’ sake--”

“Dead Body isn’t a Lan game,” Jingyi panted dismissively, tightening his grip and bracing himself when Gray-Father planted his feet to take stock of the situation. 

His other 2 fathers continued to walk on, out of range of Such Antics. It was a good thing, too, because in a whirl of walls and ceiling, Gray-Father managed to very neatly flip him over his shoulder onto the ground. With a smack, all the breath stuck in his lungs for a few agonizing moments while his horrible, rotten Gray-Father grinned down at him and laughed, “You little ass. What did you think was going to happen?”

“Vengeance,” Jingyi wheezed back several seconds later when he could breathe again again. The ring in his ears hadn’t completely left, yet. 

“--and then you have to diagnose what killed him. It was very popular back when he was around 7 years old,” Yellow-Father was explaining to Blue-Father ahead of them, ignoring the intense drama of betrayal and revenge happening just up the hall. “Though, what on earth makes it not a ‘Lan game’ is beyond me.”

Staggering to his feet with the grudgingly accepted hand of his gray father, Jingyi caught up to them 2 of them. “Right, like shu-gong would want me lying around shouting about my limbs being torn off. He doesn’t even like me yelling about normal things; I would get so many lines.” He flopped down onto his yellow Father’s shoulders and leaned as they walked, even though he was just a little taller, now (and oooh, didn’t Yellow-Father hate it).

 Automatically, his father reached up and pet his head, even as he said, “You’re crushing me, Fufu.”

Transferring over to Blue-Father, he hung from his shoulders when he patiently slowed to allow him to do so. “You find a body,” Jingyi intoned, dramatically. “It’s Lianfang-zun.” He spread his other hand wide as if painting the scene. “He’s folded up like a letter in the halls of Koi Tower! Cause of death?”

“A ridiculous son,” Gray-Father chuckled from behind them, and Jingyi twisted to kick up a foot and stuck out his tongue.

“Wrong.”

“Usually, there was a lot more posing, as a child,” Yellow-Father informed Blue-Father in a heavy tone over Jingyi’s head. “And props. It was a whole ordeal. I’m forever grateful it’s now entirely theoretical.”

“Ahh, I see,” Blue-Father shook his head and put a steadying arm around his shoulder as Jingyi hopped along on one foot, waggling his other one behind him as bait for Gray-Father to take amused, cursory swipes at. “Is there a reason I never got to play Dead Body?”

With exaggerated patience, Jingyi put both feet on the ground and reached up to pat his blue father’s cheek, smiling sympathetically. “Die, whenever I wanted to play war, you always asked if there was a peaceful solution--and I just wanted to stab people.”

All 3 fathers burst out laughing as they rounded the corner of the hallway, the sun shining warmly over their sides from the garden windows. “Oh, so you decided that I just didn’t have the stomach for it, is that it?” Blue-Father asked with a grin.

Jingyi heaved himself off, spinning around to walk backward in front of all of them. “I mean, sort of? I think maybe I figured it would make you too sad to imagine me dead?”

At this, Gray-Father’s eyebrows shot up with a sharp, incredulous laugh and Yellow-Father reared his head back in offended bafflement, demanding, “Oh, and for some reason we wouldn’t be sad to imagine you dead?!”

Shrugging aggressively, Jingyi held up his hands in defense. “I dunno! He seemed like he would handle it worse! I was 7, what do you want from me? It doesn’t have to make sense, I was an idiot!”

“Oh, you were not an idiot,” Blue-Father protested, tilting his head and crinkling him a smile. “You were wonderful.”

“You were 7,” Yellow-Father agreed with Jingyi’s first statement, darkly. Apparently, he was still highly offended, because he muttered, “’Handle it worse’...” under his breath before saying, “You’re about to run into a vase, Jingyi, turn around.”

Instead of obeying, Jingyi just veered away from the obstacle and continued to shrug at him when he sighed and looked to his blue father for help. Before it could come, Gray-Father nudged Blue-Father with his shoulder, teasing, “Congratulations on being the only one to actually care about our son, apparently.”

“Holy hell, fine, if it’s going to be A Thing, we’ll all play and mourn my death together. Happy?” As he rolled his eyes, Jingyi nearly ran into the wall as the last corridor before the outside door ended, but Yellow-Father caught his sleeve and steered him right with feigned annoyance in his pursed lips.

Blue-Father laughed, the light sparking off his spikey guan when he shook his head fondly. “Alright, I’ll play if you turn around. What do we find?”

Obediently, Jingyi spun back around and waited to fall into step with them, pondering the details of his gruesome demise. Beside him, Yellow-Father rolled his eyes to the ceiling with one dimple showing and Gray-Father shook his head with a grin. Then, Jingyi snapped his fingers and spread his hands theatrically just as they all rounded the corner of the hallway. “Alright, so, I’m face down in a river and I’m covered in boils--” 

[gwoongi]

wordless pt.4

jeon jeongguk / reader genre: hitman (john wick au), sugar daddy au, angst, crack, fluff rating: mature words: 3.5k warnings: toxic relationships, non graphic sex a/n: u guys asked and i delivered...tag yourself i’m me saying dancer in the dark was coming first....i was wrong...this is also very sweet considering part 5 will not be :D enjoy while u can!

Sometimes, saying “I love you” is inappropriate, and given your circumstances, you think it might send Jeongguk over the edge if he hears them again.

Parts: One, Two, Three, Four, Five

(31) Pulling a chair out for them to sit down at the table.

Jeongguk’s not a gentleman.

Everybody knows it, and he’s not ashamed of admitting it. Half of the time, he thinks that it’s what makes him unique, at least. If you (or anybody else, even though since you walked out on him that one time, he’s been seeing all the others less and less) were going to be with somebody, then you might as well just make it different. Spice it up a little bit.

“It will be nice.” Jeongguk, because he’s not a gentleman, is not really listening to you. He sits behind the steering wheel and tightens his hand against the wheel, the other is on the clutch.

“Are you listening to me?”

“No,” Jeongguk replies. He turns the corner, and the car slightly leans you to the right.

A sigh fills the car as he pauses as a set of traffic lights further down the street.

This red light drags forever, and Jeongguk sighs instead and looks at you pointedly, “What, then?”

It takes reluctance to pull your gaze away from the pigeons near the bins on the side of the road, but you do, and you look at Jeongguk. “I just think it will be really nice to grab dinner together.”

“We do that all the time,” Jeongguk says.

“Yeah, but I don’t mean us, or just us,” you affirm, “I mean, like all of us. Family, I guess.”

Jeongguk bristles. “Family? We don’t have any family, baby.”

“We do,” you moan. “I mean. Not family-family, but family. The kind of family we get to choose. Taehyung, and Eunji and whoever.”

Jeongguk nods sarcastically, “Oh. Wrong F word, Y/N, those people are called friends.”

“Oh, whatever then,” you huff, turning back towards the window. “Forget I said anything, Jeongguk.”

Jeongguk wants to forget, but he doesn’t. Something about that line, about the way that it stuck with him: The kind of family we get to choose. He thought about it all night, groaned, and then swore and called Taehyung. Alright motherfucker, we’re going to dinner with Y/N so you better shut the fuck up, get a suit, and meet us at that fancy Gangnam restaurant.

So, it’s a Friday evening, and it feels like a Disney Channel crossover episode. Eunji definitely feels out of place in this restaurant, and Jeongguk acts uncomfortable about the way Taehyung sits opposite you, gauging your every move and word with overacted enthusiasm. Actually, all Jeongguk is thinking about is the moment that they got here.

“Here, honey, let me get that for you,” had appeared to be Taehyung’s favourite sentence to say to you; he used it when he opened the door for you, and again with the chair to the table. Jeongguk sat seething, almost red like a ruby. Eunji sips nervously from her glass as Taehyung laughs again at something you said.

Dinner went great, he would have to admit that.

“Oh, we booked the patio for desserts,” Taehyung says. One of Jeongguk’s other friends, Seokjin (who honestly came to observe rather than to fill in for the surprising lack of family at this family dinner) looks left and right to each person on the table and follows the crowd as they leave for the patio once the main courses are done.

Taehyung once again reaches for the door and lets you walk outside. As Jeongguk passes Taehyung at the door, he glares at Taehyung with eyes that could murder. Taehyung doesn’t waver but he does get the hint, even more so as you stroll towards the table. Before Taehyung can even move towards the table, Jeongguk curves in front and puts his hand on the back of your chair.

“Here you go, baby, let me sit next to you,” Jeongguk says, dragging it out for you to sit. You watch him with one raised eyebrow but say nothing. Taehyung says nothing for a few minutes but decides to get right back to it as the desserts begin. It pisses off Jeongguk to the point where his hand leaves fingerprints in your thigh, but you can’t find it in you to be mad about it.

(32) Wrapping a blanket around them when they are sitting on the couch and watching a show.

“You gotta stop letting yourself in here, it scares the shit out of me.”

“I own this dump.”

You gape over your shoulder, “Fucker, you own this dump that you call a dump but you gave me this dump, it’s my dump, don’t call it a dump.”

“Say dump one more time,” Jeongguk warns, shrugging off his jacket and ruffling his hair. It’s wet thanks to the torrential rain outside. His socks squelch across the floor because he left his slippers back at his place, and he’s not here often enough to have his own pair at your apartment.

The apartment is toasty and warm, the heating on high. Except the living room is chilly and dark, dark blue almost.

“What are you watching?”

Jeongguk moves towards your bedroom but can still hear you as he moves.

“Just this show I found,” you reply, watching the screen. “Dead To Me.”

“Never heard of it,” he yawns, and emerges from the room. He’s holding a heavy blanket in his arms, moving to the living room to sit next to you. He plops next to you and glances at the screen, wrapping the blanket around your shoulders, over your head like a cocoon.

You laugh softly, shifting it off your head and leaning up against him. “It’s American. It’s got Velma in it.”

“Linda Cardellini?” Jeongguk asks, settling back. “She’s hot as fuck.”

“I know, that’s why I thought I’d watch it, I love her,” you say.

Jeongguk wraps an arm around your shoulder and smushes closer towards you.

“Good day?” you ask quietly.

He takes a few seconds, like he’s truly trying to think about whether he wants to answer or not.

“Okay,” he admits. “Don’t care, it’s over, I’m here, don’t wanna think about work.”

You don’t push him to talk, and instead, let him sit next to you. He likes the darkness because there’s no way you can see his discomfort, his pain, the blood under his fingernails.

(33) Throwing away their piles of tissues when they have a cold.

Jeongguk travels for work a lot, and it’s no secret to anybody he knows. It was midday when he got a call, just a few words over the phone, and then he was moving out of the shower and into the bedroom to get ready.

He had told you to stay, stay until he got back. Unfinished business, he said, that would need dealing with when he got home. So you did, you stayed and he left, and that was that.

Jeongguk sighs and shuts the car door. Until next time, he thinks to himself as he watches the car pull away. Frowning, he straightens his blazer and walks up the steps to the complex he lives at and enters. When he gets to his apartment, he kicks his shoes off right away and as he steps inside, he notices that the apartment is unusually silent.

Normally at his home, his big mansion that he loves up in the hills, there’s some sort of noise. Maybe it’s the sound of the TV on in the kitchen, or the bubbles in the hot tub, or the sound of Elio prowling around the bedroom. This apartment is in central Seoul, closer to work and closer to school. He hates how silent it is, how empty it feels.

“Y/N?”

There is no instant reply. He moves across the apartment, searching silently.

“Babe, you here?”

Worry bubbles in his stomach and he moves in search of you. After searching everywhere, Jeongguk scoffs like it’s a sick joke that you’re not here, until he hears a noise, a croak and a cough from the spare bedroom.

“Y/N?” calls Jeongguk. He moves to the door and twists the handle, and is a few shuffles inside when a grottal, gross noise emerges from the darkness.

“What?” he asks.

“I said don’t come in here,” you croak out in reply, because it’s you, and who else would it be in his apartment?

Jeongguk enters and reaches for the light, pausing when you grunt in his direction. He can see you in the dim light of the spare bedroom, the sun outside the curtains, and he suppresses a smile.

“What happened? I said we had unfinished business.”

“I know,” you rasp. “But one of the kids in my class came to the lab with a sore throat, I thought I’d be fine. But, ta-da.” He can see in the light that there’s a plethora of tissues around your body, like a barrier. So many, snotty and probably damp and scrunched into balls. “Guess he had a cold.”

He grimaces, shuffling into the bedroom despite you telling him otherwise. It’s unsurprisingly stuffy in the room, a given since the room is closed off from the sunlight that bleeds behind the curtains. Like you requested, he doesn’t turn on the lights, keeping you safe in the darkness.

“Shitty kids,” Jeongguk grunts. Finding a lack of interest in the germs that breed in the tissues scrunched into balls, he moves them from the covers and tosses them towards the small bin next to the bedside cabinet. You sniffle, snotty and stuffed, and peer from over the duvet at him.

Jeongguk looks tired, as he always does when he gets back from work. He sports a brand new cut on his lip, one that will probably scar when it’s done showing crimson. There is blood on his shirt, and you know that it’s probably not his. That doesn’t make you feel better.

“How long you had it?” Jeongguk asks.

“Two or three days,” you estimate. He’s been gone almost a week, the seventh day being tomorrow. “Should go soon, don’t worry.”

He smiles, “Not worried. Did you get medicine, or something?”

You sniff once, the air hot in your nostrils. “Nope. I haven’t managed to leave since I came down with it. I only went to the door to collect soup and then I went back to bed in here.” Another sniff and Jeongguk’s eyebrows raise with amusement, “Didn’t want to infect your bedroom, so I came here instead. Hope that’s okay.”

“Sure, it’s okay,” he replies. “I’ll find something for you, I’ve got a bunch of shit that might help.”

“Really?”

Jeongguk nods, “Yeah. Stay put, buttercup, B-R-B.”

(34) Mending an item of their clothing that was ripped.

“Who even takes the subway anymore?”

In reply, Jeongguk gets an appalled scoff. “I’m sorry, not all of us are rich enough to have fucking chauffeurs taking us places.”

“What’re you talking about, you’re rich,” Jeongguk says, his voice kind of muffled due to the sewing needle between his teeth. He sits on the edge of his sofa, your skirt spread over his lap like a napkin at dinner. Down the leg, the seam is torn, showing what could have been an erotic amount of leg. Unfortunately, he’d only got a glimpse of your skin when you shuffled into his home.

As the CEO of ripping his clothes, Jeongguk became familiar with sewing over the years, figuring it was less expensive to sew than it was to replace. So, of course, when your skirt got torn on the subway home, Jeongguk tested his principles and dug out the sewing needle.

“No thanks to you,” you sigh. “You didn’t need to, by the way.”

“Need to what, pay you?” Jeongguk laughs, sewing the seam. “Come on, Y/N, it’s overdue.”

“True, but I don’t really need your money that much anymore.”

“Funny, since you needed it when you didn’t have it,” he sighs dramatically. “Anyway, it’s barely a dent out of my bank account, I wanna spoil you. You’re welcome.”

You frown, shuffling to the couch and throwing yourself over the back so that your head is by his legs. Jeongguk spares you a glance from the skirt and smiles, returning back to the work.

“Thanks,” you mumble. Nothing is said, but he appreciates it, even if he did it out of guilt.

(35) Running out in the middle of the night to get a food item they’re craving.

“I think I’m pregnant.”

“What the fuck?”

Jeongguk shoots up from bed into a sitting position, his eyes blown wide as he stares at you. Whenever Jeongguk invites you to stay at his apartment, he always keeps a light on in the evening. His apartment is in a somewhat busier area compared to his house, which is stationed in a private neighbourhood only touched by the wealthiest of the wealthy. His apartment was supposed to be for ease, for if he had to do dirty work in the city and didn’t want to tie his name to a hotel. It wasn’t often that you stayed the night here.

In the light of the dim lamp on your side of the bed, Jeongguk can make out your face. You’re still lying down, staring up at the ceiling. After he stares long enough, you look over at him.

“Why the fuck would you say that,” he breathes, like it’s an insult.

“Wow, would it really be so bad?” you ask, curious now.

He blinks like an owl. “Obviously, dipshit.”

Sigh. “And here I was thinking it would be like the movies and you’d love me.”

“Even if I loved you, do you think I wanna have kids?” Jeongguk questions rhetorically, because he’s actually already talked to you about this. Jeongguk never wants to have children. His life is constantly on the line. There is no way he’d bring a child into the world, just for them to either be used as bait, or grow up in a world without their father. He knows how that feels.

“Fair,” you reply. “Still.”

Jeongguk shudders, it’s cold in here. “Wait, are you for real?” He shifts, the covers make a disruptive noise in the night, “what makes you think that you’re...you know…”

“I keep getting weird cravings,” you explain, like it’s the craziest science that he won’t understand. As soon as you say it, he feels almost instantly better. It’s not like cravings are the most reliable symptom of a pregnancy. Besides, you’re on the pill, and when you’re not, he’s safe. He’s not an idiot, he’s not about to accidentally ruin both of your lives with a few squirts.

“Like what?”

You shrug, “Really craving the Fairway to Heaven ice-cream.”

Jeongguk scoffs. Actually, it’s almost a tch under his breath. “Yeah, of course, you’re craving the most expensive icecream. Predictable. Cute, almost.” He pats your leg over the covers, “We all know Phish Food’s the better flavour, by the way.”

“Tell that to the cravings, sir,” you reply. You frown, then, “I’ll pick some up tomorrow. Maybe I’ll dream the cravings away…”

“As if,” Jeongguk barks, knowing you better. If he knows you at all (which he confidently does), you’ll press about this for the rest of the night until you fall asleep bored of trying. So, Jeongguk enjoys the last few seconds inside a warm bed before climbing out, switching on the light so it burns your eyes as the room fills with it.

“Ouch, too bright!”

“Pussy,” he smirks. “Bro, get your coat, we’re going out.”

“Oh yeah, at midnight?” you ask sarcastically, sitting up. “Where’re we going?”

“Ice cream,” he replies, like it’s obvious. To him it is. “That store down the road sells it and it closes at 2, so get your big coat and let’s get moving!”

“Are we seriously going to get ice cream at midnight?” you laugh, doing as he says.

“We both know you’re not gonna shut up about it if we don’t.”

Jeongguk grabs his own coat and zips it up. Nobody’s gonna care that he’s wearing PJ’s, and even if you’re sleepy and grumpy on the way there, it’s better than keeping you at the apartment alone. He’d have to be crazy to leave you here than he is going out for ice cream at midnight.

(36) Helping brush their hair after a shower.

You’re the best he’s had, really.

Jeongguk knows this, because he’s not stupid or blind or oblivious. Compared to the other girls he’s had, and the ones he left not too long ago, he knows how lucky he is to have someone like you. Someone who doesn’t just want him for the sex and the money. Although scary, it’s reassuring.

Jeongguk comes out from the kitchen to the bedroom where you’re sitting, hunched over a laptop watching a YouTube video that bores you to sleep. Your hair is damp and matted, left to dry as you watch. Fourty minutes into an hour video. Jeongguk narrows his eyebrows, wondering if he’d ever have the patience to watch something like that. Probably not. He barely has the patience when he works, and he has a job that demands it 99% of the time. When he can be hasty he is, but when his job is to kill and protect, patience is a must.

As you watch, Jeongguk moves to sit behind you and he sets his chin on your shoulder, boredly looking at the screen. Your eyes are glossed over, possibly not even watching at all. Regardless, he stays there and slowly rakes his fingers through your hair, straightening out the curls that are close to knots.

He still blames the video for you falling asleep, although it’s probably his fingers. He won’t admit it.

(37) Making sure to be quiet while they’re taking a nap.

It’s not just that. Jeongguk enjoys being gentle, but only when nobody can see him doing it. When you fall asleep, slouched over like a zombie, he smiles and gently closes the screen of your laptop. Whatever garbage your Uni have you watching can be watched tomorrow.

Until then, you must sleep. He moves the laptop away to the cabinet across the room and comes back, collecting you in his arms and moving you into the bed. Once the covers are draped across your body, he takes extra care to be quiet leaving the room and shutting the door. There’s some food leftover in the kitchen from dinner that he’ll eat before joining you, and you don’t wake up, not even when the bed dips as he climbs into it.

(38) Letting them warm their cold hands under your shirt.

Despite his work often demanding him to be around people, Jeongguk isn’t really a big fan of crowds. If he can get out of going out in public, he will jump at the opportunity. He just can’t see why you’re so miffed about not being with the crowds of people on the Hangang Bridge waiting for the fireworks- he’s got a balcony that looks out over the city and the river, so what’s the big deal?

“It’s all about the vibe,” you say with a slight sigh. Your arms are draped over the balcony banister, legs slowly vibrating in the bitter winter air. “As a broody killing machine, I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

“That stings,” Jeongguk replies, closing the door behind him as he wanders back towards you with a blanket. His eyes glaze over your face as he arrives and Jeongguk rolls his eyes, “Hold your face that way and it’ll stick.”

“Heard it all before from my Mom,” you reply boredly. A quiet thanks is spoken as you take the blanket shield and snuggle closer to his chest, staring expectantly at the black sky. “What time will they start?”

Jeongguk presses his cheek to your hair. “Considering three minutes ago it was only ten to midnight, I can safely assure you that it is not time yet.”

“I’m bored.”

“Why are you so hard to please today?” Jeongguk groans. He wriggles around, “And don’t try me with that ‘I think I’m pregnant’ bullshit. Spare me the moody bitch performance for today, please?”

You pug to yourself. “Sorry. Sorry, you’re right. And I shouldn’t be so...I don’t know. I’m sorry. Thank you for tonight.”

Jeongguk shakes his head slightly. He may never understand women.

“You really that mad over the bridge?” he asks quietly, his mouth against your head. It’s hot, and you lean back towards his minimal body warmth. “I’m sorry I didn’t pass your vibe check for tonight, but I thought it might be romantic or something for us to be up here.”

You almost laugh. “It is romantic. You’re right.”

Jeongguk brushes it off. Lately something has shifted, a comfort in the air that grants you permission to be in his life as someone more important than a ‘sugar baby’. Dare he say it, but Jeongguk actually considers you a friend. Now, you’re at the point where neither of you give much of a shit about the sugar clause you wrote yourselves into quite some time ago. An unspoken thing hangs there like Christmas mistletoe, seen but prayed away.

Distant laughter and a bang grows near the direction of Hangang bridge, and Jeongguk feels you perk in his arms. As a small warmth bursts across his chest, Jeongguk hisses in the cold and stuffs his hands up your shirt, where they curve around your body to cheekily hold both of your boobs. You jump, because his hands are freezing.

“You’re cold!” you whine. “What are you doing?”

Jeongguk shrugs, “My hands are freezing. I’m keeping them warm.”

You briefly glance down at his knuckles outlined by your jumper. “Oh yeah, because I’m sure that’s the reason why you’re literally groping my tits right now.”

“They feel warmer already,” he continues.

(39) Giving them your dessert when you eat out because it’s their favourite.

On the rare occasion that guilt consumes Jeon Jeongguk, he allows his guilt to control his feet. Usually, they end up on a pathway to the bedroom, or in the car where he drives you somewhere nice, or perhaps he picks you up from school instead of cruelly leaving you to take the subway. Now that things have shifted slightly in your dynamic, Jeongguk isn’t sure what flies as romantic anymore. He doesn’t want to leave you with the wrong impression. You’ve had the talk together, the one that touched upon what the future looked like and how quite definitely it looked as though you wouldn’t be with each other, but surely, dinner overlooking the sea in Busan isn’t too fancy or romantic, right?

“Here is your patbingsu.” The waiter circles around the table and gently lays a dish in front of you. Jeongguk carefully watches over his glass of wine as the waiter also announces his own dessert, the exact same. His eyes move down to the display set before him.

He’s never really been keen on dessert, but Jeongguk is the type of person who doesn’t enjoy the idea of one person eating when the other isn’t. So he had just ordered the same thing as you had, nice and simple, without giving it much thought.

“I love this,” you sigh happily, fiddling the metal spoon in your hand and peering up at him, “This is sick. Thank you.”

“I didn’t make it,” he replies.

You roll your eyes, spooning out some of the dessert, “you know what I mean.”

Something in the beach-fronted restaurant shifts as the sun sinks deeper into the ocean, and Jeongguk twirls his spoon anxiously whilst observing the patbingsu. He’s never been a huge fan of bingsu in general, and he looks with slight distaste at the green blob on top of what looks like cornflakes. He doesn’t get Korean desserts. Why can’t Korea be satisfied with an ice-cream sundae?

He dips his spoon into the dessert, taking a polite amount and very quickly taking a bite. For around twenty seconds, he thinks it’s okay, but the aftertaste makes his whole body shudder. Fucking hell, he really hates desserts.

After a few minutes, you finally move your attention away from the scraped clean dessert dish and take a glance over at Jeongguk, who is already watching you with a lack of interest for his own dessert.

“Is everything okay?” you ask, subtly wiping around your mouth just in case. You take in the sight of his unfinished treat, “not hungry?”

Jeongguk shrugs awkwardly, “I don’t really like bingsu.”

“Then why’d you order?” you question quietly.

“I panicked,” he replies, “you ordered it and I don’t like desserts but I didn’t want you to be eating alone.”

You pause, eyebrows quirked: “I don’t mind.”

He sighs. Of course. “Well…” He twirls the dessert dish and pushes it in your direction, “Since it’s your favourite, or whatever, you can have it.”

Your eyes light up, “Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool,” you squeal, happily taking it from him. “Thank you~”

Jeongguk rolls his eyes playfully and sits back in his chair. Whatever he didn’t eat from the dessert he instead eats up in the sight of you.

(40) Making a goofy face until they notice and laugh.

You don’t quite know how you ended up at Jeongguk’s work, but here you are. You could probably trace it back to Taehyung swinging by to get you from school since Jeongguk felt bad he couldn’t, and to be honest, you had been confused when Taehyung drove past the turning to your apartment and kept going further into the city.

Jeongguk’s workplace is pretty big, but still significantly hidden inconspicuously to avoid attention. As you slowly wander around the hallways, you begin to daydream about where Jeongguk’s office may be, what he might be doing and what he might think if he sees you.

Quietly passing through what appears to be a recreation room, filled with tired faces who blink curiously as you brush by, you finally step out into a web of hallways that connect to small rooms walled in glass. Each is empty, besides one at the very end that bustles with tense conversation, and you’re drawn to the sound of Jeongguk’s voice as it carries through the silent hallways.

You push forward, stopping not too close to the doorway so that if somebody who isn’t him happens to see you, you can make a hasty escape.

The room is filled with strange faces, strange men in tight suits and briefcases next to their feet. A man stands up beside Jeongguk at the head of the table, his hands animated as he presses on about something you’re not well read on. Hell if you know a single thing about gun models and firing ranges. You can just about tell apart Fortnite weapons and that’s only because they’ve got colours.

Jeongguk, however, is a sight that captures your gaze. For a while, he sits with his back turned to the man standing, his eyes observing each individual around the table, of who squirm under his watch. He eventually looks back at the man, his jawline sharp and his hair styled so that it only slightly falls into his eyebrows. God damn it, he looks sexy as hell; his shirt is black, cuffed, unbuttoned at the top revealing his skinny collarbones. He’s probably wearing the tight trousers too, the ones that make his ass look good.

A thought strikes you: how would he feel if he saw you outside? While it shouldn’t, the thought fills you with adrenaline. The idea of not him but somebody else seeing you, a girl dressed in white jeans and a red shirt, your coat discarded somewhere on an office chair. Would he be mad? Would he be turned on?

Would you die?

Deciding that the worse case scenario only involved you being yelled at, you decide to dip your toes into the water and tease the sharks; you wonder how long you can hold this silly face for until he finally notices you out there.

It seems like a long shot, and you’re quite close to giving up when finally Jeongguk returns his attention to the table. Heads begin to move in conversation, and Jeongguk’s gaze passes from gentleman to gentleman until they pause abruptly, locking onto you behind the glass. For a moment, he does nothing besides stare. Perhaps he doesn’t care. Then, his eyes widen, like he’s confused and alarmed and slightly impressed. Before his disturbed posture is noticed, you laugh to yourself and run away, back in the direction you tiptoed through.

(Later, Jeongguk finds you in Taehyung’s office sitting on an uncomfortable and torn armchair, a Rubix cube moving back and forwards in your hands. You’re not matching any colours. It’s going nowhere. He smiles.

“Field trip?” he questions, making your head snap up suddenly. He slides next to you on the free chair, “I’ll skin that prick alive, you know you’re not supposed to be here.”

“I know, but I’m here against my will!” you promise, putting the cube down. “I really wanted to go home. Dead To Me episodes don’t watch themselves, you know.”

“Yeah, I know,” he sighs. “I gotta go to a meeting again, then I’ll drive us home, okay?”

You nod. “I’m sorry I distracted you, by the way. I realise now I’m actually very lucky that it was you who saw me and nobody else.”

Jeongguk laughs, kissing your forehead as he rises to leave. “Yeah, well, I’m the most dangerous guy in there, so consider yourself very lucky.”)

[refinedbuffoonery]

Looking Through A Window (7)

macriley married undercover au

masterlist.

Sorry for the delay! I either have my shit together in real life or fandom life, but never both at the same time lol. Anyway, I got endless joy from reading all your reactions to last chapter’s clifhanger (sorry not sorry). I didn’t respond to comments because I don’t trust myself not to spoil anything, but just know that I appreciate every single one of your theories. Also, many of you were at least somewhat correct. (Yikes am I becoming predictable?? Gotta fix that.) This chapter ends at a good stopping point, so I’m going to switch gears and write a couple chapters of other fics (which I encourage you to read!!) before coming back to this. But fear not! I have big plans for the future of this fic, and I’ll send you all down the theory rabbit hole soon enough. xoxo

*****

The world narrows until Mac is only aware of two things: his racing heart and the fact that Riley is gone. 

The blood is fresh, but there’s no sign of a struggle—no sign of anything, really. The windows are locked and unbroken, the bedroom door is half-closed the way it always is. Not a single thing is out of place…except for Riley. 

So, where the hell is she? 

His body goes taut as the worst case scenario plays in his mind. Please don’t be gone, Mac silently begs. Please. 

The apartment is quiet. Too quiet. So when the shower turns on with a loud thunk, Mac flinches. Hard. Without thinking, he scrambles out of bed and lunges for the bathroom door. 

As he bursts through the door, Mac’s awareness shifts to three things: Riley is alive, she’s naked, and she’s screaming. 

“Mac!” She hisses, glaring over her shoulder. If looks could kill, he’d be very, very dead by now. At least her back is to him. “What the hell?” 

Mac barely hears her over the roaring in his ears. He scans her naked body, trying and failing to be professional as he scans for injuries. 

His eyes land on the blood smeared between her thighs, then the thin stream rolling down the inside of her knee. As understanding dawns on him, Mac holds out his own blood-covered hand in silent explanation. 

Riley winces. “Sorry about the blood.” 

Mac still feels a little disconnected from his body when he says, “I was afraid you were dead.”

Embarrassment floods Riley’s face. She begs,“Can we please finish this conversation when I’m not naked and bleeding all over the floor?” Mac’s gaze automatically flicks to the drops of blood between her feet, but he doesn’t move. His limbs are still frozen in place, the way they’ve been since he found her. “Get out!” Riley snaps. 

His own embarrassment finally taking hold, Mac stumbles backward, tripping over the door frame on his way out. 

While Riley showers, Mac busies himself by stripping the bed and washing the sheets and blankets. Not just because it needs to be done, but because it’s easier to process emotions when his hands are busy. It feels like he just experienced the entire spectrum of human emotion in the span of three minutes, and now all these untethered feelings are floating around in his head. As he works, Mac examines them one by one. 

He woke up this morning wanting to cuddle with Riley. Not just wanting to, but comfortable enough to act on that desire. 

When his hand landed in the blood, his brain immediately jumped to the worst case scenario. He is deeply afraid of said scenario. 

Then panic set in, as he desperately tried to prove himself wrong. 

Followed by relief at finding Riley and learning the blood was not from an injury, but from a normal bodily function. 

Then embarrassment, because he freaked out and barged in on her over something he could’ve deduced for himself if only he’d just stopped to think. He’s supposed to be smart, so why couldn’t that big brain of his, as Jack would say, figure this out? 

The answer to that question, at least, comes easily: Because it’s Riley, and he doesn’t always think with his head when it comes to her. 

For example, while he’s mortified at seeing her naked, a part of him wishes she’d been facing the other direction. 

Mac starts the washing machine and decides to do the mature thing and hide in the kitchen for the entire foreseeable future. He spies Harley lying on the couch, gazing out a window. “And where were you for all of this?” he asks. “A heads-up would’ve been nice.” 

Harley stares at him for a few seconds before resuming her vigil, and Mac hears the message, loud and clear: You’re on your own. 

When Riley still hasn’t emerged from the bedroom long after the shower turned off, Mac suspects that she’s hiding too. He doesn’t blame her. 

It’s late morning by the time the laundry is finished, and Mac can’t hide any longer. Clutching the still-warm sheets and blankets to his chest, he cautiously ventures into the bedroom. Riley is lying on the bed with her knees tucked up to her chin, and a pang of sympathy echoes in Mac’s chest. Her eyes are closed, but Mac doubts that she’s actually asleep. 

Dropping the sheets on the floor, he asks, “Are you alive?” 

Riley groans. “No.” 

“Could you please go die on the couch then, so I can make the bed?” She groans again and mumbles something incoherent. “Also you’ll feel better if you eat something.” 

“No I won’t.” She sounds like a whining toddler, and Mac has to stifle a snort. Still, a bit of the awkwardness dissipates. But only a bit. 

“Yes you will. I know you, Miss Hangry.” 

“I’m not hangry.” 

“Says the one who skipped breakfast.” 

“I was hiding from you.” 

“So was I,” Mac confesses. Riley cracks a single eye open at that, just in time to see his cheeks heat. “Trust me, I am way more embarrassed than you.” 

It takes him a second to notice that she’s blushing too. “Wanna bet?” 

Mac starts putting the fitted sheet on the unoccupied side of the mattress. “I didn’t see anything, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Nothing he hasn’t seen before, anyway, but Mac wisely decides to keep that part to himself. “Victoria’s secret is still a secret,” he adds with a wink. 

Riley rolls her eyes. “You did not just say that.” 

“Made you laugh, didn’t it?” Mac gives her a shit-eating grin, and despite her best attempt at hiding it, amusement slips through the cracks in Riley’s unimpressed facade. 

“Whatever. We don’t have to do anything today, do we?” Mac raises his brow at the question. For all the years he’s known Riley, she’s always been more of a ‘suck it up’ kind of person, not a ‘stay in bed’ person. So her question is surprising, if not mildly concerning. 

“Nope.” He pauses. “Are you okay? This isn’t like you.” 

Riley rolls onto her back. “Dude, it feels like someone took a cheese grater to my insides.” 

Mac winces at the mental image. “Ouch.” 

She pauses, as if contemplating her next words before she says them. “I got a new IUD a couple months ago, and this one makes my cramps way worse. I used to be able to ignore them, but this sucks.” 

Not knowing how to reply to that, he squeezes Riley’s ankle in a way he hopes is reassuring. Mac flicks his gaze up to meet hers and finds Riley already looking at him. Her gaze is warm and steady, but Mac can see hints of pain clouding her dark eyes. He thinks it isn’t fair that her body turns on her like this. 

"I'm getting back in bed the second you're done making it," she warns. 

"Go right ahead." 

Riley wanders into the kitchen, and, true to her word, reappears right when Mac finishes smoothing down the comforter, with Harley at her heels. To Mac's surprise, Harley jumps on the bed, waits for Riley to get situated, and then tucks herself into Riley's side. A smile blooms on his face. Riley puts an arm around Harley, pulling the dog into her stomach before moving to scratch her head. When Harley licks Riley’s face in return, Mac suddenly gets the feeling he's watching something private. 

Satisfied that Riley is in capable hands, Mac leaves without another word.

*****

Beneath the weathered wooden conference table, Harley’s head rests on Mac’s foot as she dozes through the Patriots’ council meeting. When they arrived, no one looked more put off by their presence than Conrad, but, true to his word, Ethan welcomed Mac and Riley with open arms and encouraged their participation. A murmur of dissent snaked through the room, but no one openly questioned Ethan’s decision to include them. 

Twenty minutes in, Mac would rather be anywhere but here. The “meeting” so far has been very little business and mostly rehashing some fishing trip a few of the guys went on over the weekend. Mac is holding out hope that it won’t be a complete waste of his time, but said hope dwindles each time someone exaggerates about the size of a fish. 

There’s nothing interesting to look at in the room, save for Riley. No art, no plants, no wall of guns. Not even a clock. Just drab gray walls with no windows. And he doesn’t dare study any of the men for longer than a second or two each. Making an enemy is as easy as looking at someone the wrong way, and Mac has no desire to antagonize the other members of the Patriots…at least not yet. 

Extricating his foot from beneath Harley’s head, he’s just about to make an excuse about needing to use the restroom when Ethan’s phone rings. After quickly checking it, Ethan excuses himself from the meeting with a curt nod to Conrad. Mac understands the look; he’s given and received it countless times himself, after all. Permission to continue without him. Because despite his tendency to toe the line, Conrad is still Ethan’s trusted lieutenant. The exchange is subtle, practiced, and apparently insignificant to the other men at the table, who are somehow still talking about fish. 

When the storytelling finally lulls, Conrad clears his throat. "Let's start with recruitment. Report." No nonsense, right to the point. Maybe he’s tired of the fish conversation too. 

As Conrad steers the conversation through the various items on the agenda, Mac realizes two things. 

One, the Patriots are far more organized than he originally made them out to be. This is no grassroots startup, and their plans go much deeper than protests and parking lot shootings. 

Two, Conrad is careful not to let anyone share too much information, instead asking everyone to give their detailed reports in individual meetings. And it's more than just trying to keep him and Riley in the dark. It's almost as if…almost as if Conrad doesn't want anyone to see the big picture besides himself. 

Mac decides to take his theory for a test drive. "I know I'm new here," he says, "but why have everyone meet with you a second time individually instead of sharing their full reports now? Wouldn't that be a better use of time?" 

Conrad sneers. "On the contrary, boy, why would I waste everyone's time making them listen to information they don't need to know?" 

It takes every ounce of Mac’s self control not to roll his eyes. 

Beneath the table, Riley grips his knee, nails digging in through his khakis. Mac wants to tell her that he’s thinking the same thing she is, but he can’t. The best he can settle for is a brief touch on her arm before needing to do something with his hands to distract himself from the way his skin burns under her touch. He elects to drum his fingers on the table, mostly to push Conrad’s buttons even further. 

If Conrad’s furrowed brow is any indication, it works. 

“Do you mind?” Conrad says with a pointed glare at Mac’s hand. 

Feigning ignorance, Mac replies, “Mind about what?” 

“The tapping.” 

“Oh!” Mac makes a show of sliding his gaze down to his hand before flattening his palm against the table. “My bad.” 

Looking none too pleased, Conrad moves on, but to Mac’s surprise, the man sitting beside him leans in to whisper, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. He's not the one to piss off." His words are tinged with genuine concern, and under different circumstances, Mac would appreciate the advice. 

"He's a man," Mac whispers back, "just like everyone else at this table." Minus Riley, of course. 

The man presses on. "The previous occupant of your seat was shot point blank for asking too many questions." Mac's brows raise at that. "You're sitting in a dead man's chair." 

Mac pockets that little detail gratefully, but he hesitates before ultimately heeding the man's warning. He fiddles with the button on his sleeve, impatiently waiting for the meeting to end so he can share his theory with Riley. 

What Mac doesn't anticipate is Riley beating him to it, pulling him aside before they're even back in the car. "Conrad's compartmentalizing information," she says in a quiet, confident tone. 

They’re too exposed to be having this conversation. Mac nervously checks for eavesdroppers, but doesn’t spot any. Deeming it safe for now, he replies, "Yeah I thought so too." 

"He's made himself essential. No one else knows how everything works." Riley pauses, eyes catching on something over his shoulder. Barely audibly, she adds, "An asshole and a control freak." He doesn’t need to turn around to know she’s looking at Conrad, not when she has a white-knuckled grip on Harley’s leash. 

"So if we eliminate him…" 

Riley nods in understanding. He’s controlling everything in an attempt to rise through the rankings and seize power. So if they eliminate Conrad, the whole organization may very well come tumbling down in his wake. 

Now they just have to figure out how the hell to accomplish that. 

"What if we help him?" Riley suggests, reading Mac’s mind. 

"What?" 

"We've spent all this time looking for the weakest link, but maybe…maybe we need to attach ourselves to the strongest one." A stray curl falls in Riley's face, and as she brushes it behind her ear, Mac absentmindedly wishes his fingers were brushing it back instead. Riley continues, "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I think we should help him become more powerful than he already is. That way, we can do as much damage as possible when we take him out." 

A man they don't know walks by, and Mac nods in greeting. Waiting for the man to move out of earshot, Mac drops to one knee, giving Harley a good scratch. She wags her tail and opens her mouth in a smile, clearly enjoying the attention. When the coast is clear again, Mac says, "You just made this op so much longer, but I think you're right." 

Riley snorts. "What, is there somewhere else you need to be?" 

Gazing up at the woman before him, the answer is obvious. Not unless you're coming with me. 

*****

In the gray hour before dawn crests over the world, Mac wakes to something tickling his nose. He exhales sharply, trying to blow it away, but the tickle persists.

His face is pressed into the nape of Riley's neck, and a deep inhale causes a few strands of her hair to go up his nostrils. Reaching up to brush Riley’s hair out of his face, he hesitates right before his calloused fingers brush her skin, afraid that even the barest touch will shatter the moment. As soon as Riley wakes, he'll have to hide behind his mask of indifference, and Mac isn't ready to do that yet. 

For as long as he dares, Mac allows himself to imagine what it would be like to wake up with Riley for real, in his own home. He sees her curled in his bed, sheets pulled up to her chin, hears the soft, steady cadence of her breathing, smells the lingering traces of perfume on her skin. 

Riley stirs in his arms, and the vision blurs, moving out of reach. Mac grasps for it, but it evaporates into nothingness as she settles back against him. 

He shifts his focus to the very real sensation of Riley’s body tucked into his. Her back to his chest, his leg slotted between hers, her ass pressed against his—

Shit. 

Mac jerks backward, trying to put as much space between them as possible before Riley wakes and realizes just what she scooted back against. 

Except, in his haste, Mac doesn’t realize there’s a third party present until his foot slams into the small, warm body lying at the foot of the bed. Guilt washes over him at Harley’s ensuing yelp. 

Awake, Riley mumbles, “Did you just kick the dog?” 

“It was an accident!” Mac insists, sitting up. He turns his attention to Harley. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. You can come back if you want.” He pats the bed in a way he hopes is reassuring, but Harley merely eyes him with suspicion before slinking out of the room. 

“I can’t believe you kicked the dog,” Riley says, still half-asleep. “She finally slept with us, and you betrayed her.” 

“I told you it was an accident!” 

“Betrayal.” 

Mac rakes a hand through his hair. “You’re never going to let this go, are you?” 

“Nope.” Riley sighs, rolling back to her side of the bed, and Mac isn’t sure whether to be relieved or disappointed. Or maybe a little bit of both. “You better go apologize.” 

Mac scoffs. “And let you take over the entire bed while I’m gone? I don’t think so.” 

And there it is. The closest they’ve come to acknowledging the evolution of their bed-sharing habits. Particularly the newfound lack of sticking to their respective sides. If he’s being honest with himself, Mac doesn’t know where to go from here. He wants to see it as a sign of things changing between them. Obviously Riley is aware of their precarious positioning, but based on her casual relocation, she doesn’t see this any differently than the dozens of times they’ve slept squished in a small space together in the past. Whether she’s aware of the other thing, she doesn’t let on. 

“Your funeral,” Riley says, pulling Mac out of his head. 

Right. 

The dog. 

The dog whose forgiveness he needs to earn via extra breakfast. Maybe extra dinner too. 

Sighing, Mac goes after her, cursing his inability to get things right with either of the females in this house. 

.

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[yoshi-self-ships]

Shuichi: Hewwo.

Kokichi: Hihiiiiii!

Kiibo: Greetings, Humans.

Rantaro: Three kinds of people.

Kaito: I want pudding.

Shuichi: Four kinds of people.

Miu: WHAT’S UP FUCKERS?

Rantaro: Five kinds of people.

Shuichi, walking into their house: Hello, people who do not live here.

Kokichi: Hey.

Kiibo: Hi.

Kaito: Hello.

Rantaro: Hey!

Shuichi: I gave you the key to my place for emergencies only!

Miu: We were out of Doritos.

Kiibo: Would you guys be there for me if I was going through something?

Shuichi: Nope, absolutely not.

Kokichi: I hope it sucks, whatever you're going through.

Kaito: I hope it emotionally scars you for the rest of your life.

Rantaro: I hope you reach out to me so I can ignore you.

Miu: I can't wait to go to your funeral, knowing I could've changed that outcome.

Miu: Dumbest scar stories, go!

Kokichi: I burned my tongue once drinking tea.

Shuichi: I dropped a hair dryer on my leg once and burned it.

Kaito: I have a piece of graphite in my leg for accidentally stabbing myself with a pencil in the first grade.

Rantaro: I was taking a cup of noodles out of the microwave and spilled it on my hand and I got a really bad burn.

Kiibo:

Kiibo: I have emotional scars.

Kaito: Just be yourself.

Kokichi: 'Be myself'? Kaito, I have one day to win Rantaro over. How long did it take before you guys started liking me?

Shuichi: Couple weeks.

Kiibo: Six months.

Miu: Jury’s still out.

Kokichi: See, Kaito?

Kokichi: 'Be myself'. What kind of garbage advice is that?

Shuichi: If you bite it and you die, it’s poisonous. If it bites you and you die, it’s venomous.

Kaito: What if it bites me and it dies!?

Kokichi: Then you’re poisonous. Jesus Christ, Kaito, learn to listen.

Kiibo: What if it bites itself and I die?

Miu: That’s voodoo.

Rantaro: What if it bites me and someone else dies?

Kaito: That’s correlation, not causation.

Kiibo: What if we bite each other, and neither of us die?

Miu: That’s kinky.

Shuichi: Oh my God.

Shuichi: Croissants: dropped

Kokichi: Road: works ahead

Miu: BBQ sauce: on my titties

Kaito: Shavacado: fre

Rantaro: Miss Keisha: fuckin dead

Kiibo:

Kiibo, grumpy: I didn’t understand a single word of that and I hate every single one of you.

Miu: Who the fuck added me to a fucking group chat?

Kokichi: >:O language

Kiibo: Yeah watch your fucking language

Kaito: OKAY WHO TAUGHT KIIBO THE FUCK WORD?

Shuichi: 'The fuck word'.

Rantaro: Are you stupid? You guys use the f word all the time

Kiibo: Oh my god they censored it

Shuichi: Say fuck, Rantaro.

Kiibo: Do it, Rantaro. Say fuck.

Shuichi: I CAN'T DO IT!

Miu, laughing: I CAN'T EITHER!

Shuichi: I CANT FUCKING DO IT ANYMORE

Kiibo: WELL I'LL TELL YOU WHAT, YOU CAN EITHER GIVE UP NOW, OR YOU CAN FIGURE IT OUT. BECAUSE WE CERTAINLY CAN'T DO IT WITHOUT YOU, AND WE KNOW YOU CAN'T DO IT WITHOUT US.

Shuichi:

Shuichi: I appreciate it,

Shuichi: BUT LOOK WHAT WE'RE DEALING WITH-

Kaito: Shuichi-

Shuichi: YOU GOTTA DRAW THE LINE SOMEWHERE!

Rantaro: Shuichi we gotta-

Shuichi: YOU GOTTA DRAW A FUCKING LINE IN THE SAND. YOU GOTTA MAKE A STATEMENT.

Shuichi: YOU GOTTA LOOK INSIDE YOURSELF AND SAY 'What am I willing to put up with today?'

Shuichi, motioning to Kokichi: NOT FUCKING THIS

*Squad reactions to being told ‘I love you’*

Kaito: Thanks fam!

Rantaro: oh no

Shuichi: *cries* I love you too

Kokichi: Sounds fake but okay

Kiibo: *A flustered mess*

Miu: can i get a refund

(Part 1, part 2, part 4)

[someguynamedstevewrites]

My Roommate is an Apparition: An Apparition A-Pink-ciation of Culture

Based on characters created by @reddpenn

From the diary of Lily:

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

When I was little, I used to talk to my stuffed animals all the time.  They were my soft, cuddly friends who were always there for me, and even though they never spoke a word, I always imagined I could hear what they wanted to say.  Even as an adult, I still treat inanimate objects like they’re people too.  In fact, everyone does at some point or another in their adult life.  Anyone who has ever argued with their car that refused to start knows what I mean.

But recently, I realized that sometimes people can do... well the opposite. That sometimes we don’t treat people (who are actual, real people) like they’re people.  It’s not something we consciously think about, but it’s more like we forget that, well, people are people.  I know this sounds really dumb, but I felt like I needed to write about this after a... well after an “argument” I had with my roommate.

I’ve lived with my roommate for a few months now, and I thought I had gotten to know them pretty well.   They like to watch cartoons (like, seriously LOVES them) and we had worked out a TV viewing schedule to make sure that we got along together.  But the other day, I realized that I wasn’t necessarily treating them like they were their own person.  I didn’t mean to do that, but it just kind of happened, and...

...well it gets really complicated because, technically, they aren’t a person.

I mean, they aren’t human; they’re an apparition.

It made me think about all those stories about monsters and ghosts.  Like a ghost used to be human, but then they died, and their spirit became a ghost.  Do we still treat the ghost like the person they were when they were alive?  Outside of a few exceptions, the answer’s a definite yes.

But what about an apparition? It’s kind of like a ghost, but it’s not. I mean, it’s not the soul of someone who died or anything. They just sort of exist. (Would Slimer from Ghostbusters be an apparition or a ghost?).

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

So anyway, reason I’m bringing this all up is because of what happened last weekend. I was channel surfing through the Cable Guide and as I’m flipping through, I pass by Boomerang (you know, the cable channel that spun-off Cartoon Network to hold all the older cartoons?) and all of a sudden, my roommate appears out of nowhere (literally) and practically grabs the remote out from my hands.

“Hey! What gives!?” I say to them.

They immediately change over to Boomerang and my TV screen is suddenly filled up with the color pink. At the same time, my roommate starts “doot-ing” along with the song and goes, “Doo-Doot! Doo-Doot! Do-Doot-Do-Doot-Do-Doot Do-Doot-De-Dooooooooo-Doo-Doo-Doo-Doo-Doooot”. I have no idea what they’re doing, but then the cartoon starts up and it’s the Pink Panther.

Rhetorically, I go, “What’s this?”

“Pink... Panther...” my roomie says.

And then I make my first mistake by saying, “Huh. Never seen it before.”

Now if I had been paying attention to them, I probably would have seen the face of shock they were making. “You... NEVER... saw it!?” They gasped.

“Nope. Must have been before my time,” which was totally true. I mean, I later found out my Dad used to watch it when he was a kid. It wasn’t on TV when I was growing up. (Why am I defending myself for not watching a specific cartoon?)

Anyway, roomie asks, “Watch... with me?”

And then I, being a total dumbass, say, “Nah. Think I’ll get some dishes in,” before getting up and walking away.

If I had stayed put for just a few seconds longer, I would have heard them asking, “...please?” (In case you’re wondering, they told me about that later.)

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

Yes, I hurt its feelings.  Yes, it was insensitive.  Yes, I am sorry.  But like I said, the thought didn’t even cross my mind back then.  As far as I knew, as long as my roommate had their cartoons, they were happy.  It didn’t occur to me that they cared about anything other than the cartoons themselves.

For the next week, my roommate made sure I knew, now and forever, that this was not true.

My first clue that they were mad at me was later that evening when I went to the living room to watch my usual shows.   It was my turn on the TV, and usually I have to pry my roommate away so I can watch what I want to watch. But that night, the instant I walked into the room, they changed the channel to what I wanted, put the remote down on the couch, and left the room without saying a word.  I thanked them, plopped myself down, and went straight into couch potato mode.

This should have thrown so many red flags in my head, but for some reason, it didn’t.  Maybe I was being too self-absorbed at the time? Maybe I was just tired and thinking, “Aww man, I gotta work tomorrow!”?  No matter the excuse, mistakes were made, and I started paying for them the very next morning.

My “haunting” kicked off with waking up to find most of my rock collection missing.  I have a particular affinity for pretty rocks and gems (I’m kind of a rock nerd) and have my favorites out on display.  But that morning, the only rocks that I could see were the pink ones.  Someone had pilfered almost every pebble from every pedestal to perturb me.   (I saw a chance for alliteration and took it! So sue me!)  I was still waking up and too tired to care about it at the time (me making excuses again) and had work, so I got ready to go and left.

Now I’m not sure how they did it, but my roommate did something to my car radio.   I turn it on and all I get are tunes by Henry Mancini.  Fifty percent of the time, it was the Pink Panther theme, twenty-five percent was the theme from A Shot In The Dark (I had to use Soundhound to figure out that one), and the rest was a mix of some of his other work.   It didn’t matter what station I tried changing it to!  Although I did learn that Mancini composed Baby Elephant Walk, so that’s something.

By now, I’d already figured out what was going on (roommate did it), but couldn’t really do anything about it because I still had work to go to.   As if the daily grind working at an art supply store wasn’t hard enough, I had to work while having the dang Pink Panther theme stuck in my head all day.  Not even the music that played over the store radio could get rid of it.  (Given the quote un-quote “music” they play over the speaker system, I eventually considered it a good thing.)

Then I came home, and that’s when things REALLY escalated.  First words out of my mouth after I walked in was, “Hey, I’m hoooOOOOOLY~!”  Every single wall in the apartment, from the living room, to the kitchen, to the bedroom, and even the bathroom...

PINK!

All of them were painted PINK!

Like strawberry frosted doughnut pink!

As I’m gawking at the interior design sugar rush nightmare, out walks my roommate from around the corner.  Immediately, the first thing I noticed was that they had feet. (Normally, they don’t have feet; they just kind of “hover” or “emerge from the ground” or something.) They had their eyes closed, head held up, and made a point of showing off these noodle legs they had constructed by skipping every other three steps.

They were doing the Pink Panther shuffle.

They walk out of my line of sight and I run over to have a word with them, but by then they disappeared.  I look around and all I see is more and more pink.  From behind me, I hear a mix of snickering slash wheezing.  Like you ever hear of this cartoon dog named Muttley?  They were laughing like him.  And of course, I turn around, and the only thing I see is more pink!

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

I knew that my roommate could be ornery at times, like that time I tried to get an idea of their daily routine by setting up a webcam, but this...

I mean, where did she even get the paint?  (Upon reading back here, I realized I referred to them as a ‘she’ even though I’m not sure if they are a ‘she’ or not.  Yeah, I can edit it to a more neutral pronoun, but something tells me I ought to point this out instead of editing it, for some reason.)

I was half tempted to get back at them by painting the walls back to their original color (they do sell paint by the gallon where I work, and I get the employee discount), but realized they’d just paint(?) the walls pink again.  Like I’d turn around after thinking I finished only to find the work I did completely undone.  I could just picture my roommate doing that and finding it hysterical.

Anyway, tacky as the pink walls were, I didn’t get too angry about them.  For starters, my lease agreement said that I couldn’t paint the walls without landlord approval.  But my lease agreement also acknowledges that my apartment may be haunted.  If the landlord ever brought it up, I’d just tell them the “ghost” did it.  Second, these pranks my roommate was pulling were kind of amusing and didn’t really bother me that much.  (I mean sure, I wanted my rock collection back but I doubted my roommate would have thrown them away.  They know how much they mean to me.)

The one thing I was putting my foot down on was that I wasn’t going to ask my roommate what was wrong.  I got the hint, sure, but I wanted them to know that if something is bothering them, they need to, y’know, actually say something instead of leaving spooky pink clues.  They were being a butt, and my hope was that when they saw how much the pink wasn’t bothering me, then they’d finally open up.  This went on for about a week with me going about my daily routine only to be surprised by the occasional pink interruption.

Like on Wednesday, I go to the fridge to get something to drink, and all I find in there is Pink Lemonade.  It actually wasn’t that bad, but I have no idea how my roommate actually got it given that they never leave the apartment.  Thursday, I get a notification saying a package arrived, and find my roommate used my debit card to order the entire Pink Panther cartoon series on DVD.  And earlier on Tuesday, I got a call from my landlord asking if I knew why someone had called in an order, in their name, to have Owens Corning insulation installed.  In case you weren’t aware, that’s the pink insulation who has “you can guess who” as their mascot.

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

So, Friday rolls around, and by now, the entire apartment is pink.  Like EVERYTHING.  The furniture, the electronics, the toilet, the sink, the appliances, the TV, and everything in between has been made pink somehow.  I’m not sure who out there still makes pink toilet paper, but apparently my roommate has either some special powers I don’t know about yet, or they got connections.

At this point, since my roommate had yet to approach me about “The Pink-ening”, I began playing the reverse-psychology card.  I came home and got to making dinner.  While some of this was a bit more expensive than what I usually spend on food, I figured it was worth it if it meant getting my roommate to talk to me.  My menu included delicious smoked pink salmon, some crab linguine with a nice amount of pink to it for a side dish, and some mashed red potatoes that turn out nice and pink if you got the right recipe.  To wash it down, I picked up a glass of pink lemonade from the fridge, and in the freezer, some strawberry sorbet.

I get down to eating at my pink table, with a pink wooden chair, pink napkins, pink silverware, pink glass of pink lemonade.  It took a little more effort to put this together, but I made an exaggerated point of showing off how good this pink meal was and how much I was just enjoying all this pink.

About halfway into my meal, I get a feeling that someone’s standing behind me.  It’s hard to put into words how you know someone’s there especially since my roommate doesn’t really eat or breath.  It’s like the hairs on the back of your neck become sensitive like cat whiskers and can just... feel that someone’s there.  Usually sends a chill down my spine when that happens, but this time, I was ready and waiting for it.

“Care to join me for dinner?” I say without turning around.  If I had, they probably would have vanished on me again like they had been doing all week.

“Looks... good...” they say in their ever so familiar by now raspy voice.

“Got something you want to talk about?” I ask between bites.  There’s a brief pause as my roommate thinks to themselves.

“...yes,” they finally answer.

“Okay.  Pull up a chair!  It’s been a while since we just, y’know, talked and stuff,” which was true.  

The instant I said that, I realized that even before the “week of pink” began, we hadn’t spent a whole lot of time together outside of our usual TV time.  I had long since figured out that my roommate wanted me to watch Pink Panther with them, but I just thought they wanted to show it to me to show off how (subjectively) good the cartoon was.  Only then did it hit me that they wanted me to watch it with them because they wanted to watch it together with me.  It was like they were hoping for some roommate bonding time or something like that.

Now, it wasn’t like we weren’t talking to each other before this.  I greeted them whenever I saw them, and let them know whenever I came home or was leaving. but we hadn’t actually talked, like... “talk-talk” in a few weeks.  Instead, the conversations over the last few weeks were like the kind of conversations a person would have with their pet cat or pet dog.  Like you’d talk to them, but not really expect an answer from them.

I had been treating her like a pet more than a person.  (Did it again!  I’m thinking I’ll ask them later what kind of pronouns they’d like me to use, or if they’ve even given any thought towards gender or anything).

My guess is that my roommate picked up on this themselves, and just like a disobedient pet who is bored, lonely, or other, they made a mess of the place.  Maybe they were thinking that if I was going to treat them like a pet, they would act like one too?

Of course, I didn’t mean to treat them like that.  I don’t think anyone really does mean it when they do.  It just kind of happens without thinking about it.  The whole reason I’m writing this down here in you, diary, is so that I can make a mental note slash reminder to be careful of doing that kind of thing.  It’s especially important to remember when interacting with other people, like my co-workers or the store customers.  (Unlike my roommate, they can’t get on my case by making my entire apartment pink.)

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

Now where was I?  Oh yeah, our talk.  I think I remember the most important bits of it.  It went something like:

“So, whaddya wanna talk about?” I ask between bites of food.

“Pink...” they say to me.  I wait a moment, expecting them to say “panther” after that, but it when it doesn’t arrive, I step in.

“Yeah!  Pretty amazing what you did with the place!  I didn’t know things could even get this pink!” which was one-hundred percent true.

“...Thank...you...” they say with a smile.  I can tell that was not the answer they were expecting as I could have swore they turned and blushed.  Although I couldn’t tell because of how pink everything else was.

“Although,” I add, “I don’t think the landlord is going to like the apartment being this pink.  If it stays like this, they might kick me out.  And we wouldn’t want that, right?”

Now my roommate, the apparition, actually looks shocked for a moment.  The thought hadn’t entered their head, and for a moment, they looked a little scared.  “N-n-n-no...” they stuttered.

“Well, I’m sure together, we can get this place back to the way it was before the next time they have an apartment inspection.  Whenever that is,” I reassure them.

“Yeah...” my roommate nods.

“Say I got some time off this upcoming weekend.  Want to watch some Pink Panther with me?”  (Oh my God, you should have seen the smile on my roommate’s face when I asked this.)  “I see I have the DVD collection now, apparently,” I say with a wink, “and we can even watch the movies together too.”

“...movies?” they ask.

“Yeah, the Pink Panther was a movie first before it became a cartoon.  It was a live-action movie, but... well some of it’s like a cartoon here and there.  Lots of slapstick comedy that I think you might like.”  They were practically beaming and agreed immediately.  

After Friday’s dinner, we watched some of the cartoons (which are actually pretty funny) and for the upcoming weekend, we’re doing a Pink Panther movie marathon with cartoons mixed in to spice it up.  I also found out that my roommate doesn’t just watch the cartoons, but actually knows a thing or two about them.  Like how Friz Freleng, one of the directors and creative minds behind the original Looney Tunes cartoons, was involved in the Pink Panther’s creation along with a new studio after he left Warner Brothers.  I don’t know how my roommate came to know so much, but it’s pretty cool.

Anyway, I got me some sweet, pink treats to snack on during the movie marathon.  The apartment is still pink as can be, but my roommate said they’ll take care of it once the marathon’s over.  Exactly HOW they plan to take care of it, I have no idea.  Oh well.  No use pinking too hard about it.

(HA!)

[z0mbie0fzombies]

Here’s some lollipop chainsaw incorrect quotes stuff

@douglasalba here you are, king

Zed: Dumbest scar stories, go!

Vikke: I burned my tongue once drinking tea.

Killabilly: I dropped a hair dryer on my leg once and burned it.

Josey: I have a piece of graphite in my leg for accidentally stabbing myself with a pencil in the first grade.

Lewis legend: I was taking a cup of noodles out of the microwave and spilled it on my hand and I got a really bad burn.

Mariska:

Mariska: I have emotional scars.

Zed: We need to distract these guys

Vikke: Leave it to me

Vikke: Centaurs have six limbs and are therefore insects. Discuss.

Mariska, Josey, and Lewis legend: *Immediately begin arguing*

Killabilly, watching in horror: Oh this. I don’t like this. I don't like this at all.

Zed, walking into their house: Hello, people who do not live here.

Vikke: Hey.

Mariska: Hi.

Josey: Hello.

Lewis legend: Hey!

Zed: I gave you the key to my place for emergencies only!

Killabilly: We were out of Doritos.

Zed: Rules are made to be broken.

Vikke: They were made to be followed. Nothing is made to be broken.

Mariska: Uh, piñatas.

Josey: Glow sticks.

Lewis legend: Karate boards.

Killabilly: Spaghetti when you have a small pot.

Zed: Rules.

Vikke:

Zed: Croissants: dropped

Vikke: Road: works ahead

Mariska : BBQ sauce: on my titties

Josey: Shavacado: fre

Lewis legend: Miss Keisha: fuckin dead

Killabilly:

Killabilly, grumpy: I didn’t understand a single word of that and I hate every single one of you

*Squad reactions to being told ‘I love you’*

Zed: Thanks fam!

Vikke: oh no

Mariska: *cries* I love you too

Josey: Sounds fake but okay

Lewis legend: *A flustered mess*

Killabilly : can i get a refund

'Can I copy the homework?'

Zed: I can help you with it!

Vikke: Yeah, sure.

Mariska: Bold of you to assume I did the homework.

Josey: lol nope.

Lewis legend: Wait, we had homework?!?!?!

Killabilly: *Read 5:55pm*

Zed: I CAN'T DO IT!

Vikke, laughing: I CAN'T EITHER!

Zed: I CANT FUCKING DO IT ANYMORE

Mariska: WELL I'LL TELL YOU WHAT, YOU CAN EITHER GIVE UP NOW, OR YOU CAN FIGURE IT OUT. BECAUSE WE CERTAINLY CAN'T DO IT WITHOUT YOU, AND WE KNOW YOU CAN'T DO IT WITHOUT US.

Zed:

Zed: I appreciate it,

Zed: BUT LOOK WHAT WE'RE DEALING WITH-

Josey: Zed-

Zed: YOU GOTTA DRAW THE LINE SOMEWHERE!

Lewis legend: Zed we gotta-

Zed: YOU GOTTA DRAW A FUCKING LINE IN THE SAND. YOU GOTTA MAKE A STATEMENT.

Zed: YOU GOTTA LOOK INSIDE YOURSELF AND SAY 'What am I willing to put up with today?'

Zed, motioning to Killabilly: NOT FUCKING THIS

Swan: I’m gonna need a human skull and I can't have you ask any questions why.

Killabilly: Only if you also don't ask why

Killabilly: *Pulls out 7 pristine human skulls* Take your pick.

Swan:

Killabilly:

Swan: This one is fine

Swan: Can you please be serious for five minutes?

Killabilly: My record is four, but I think I can do it.

Swan: Killabilly...

Killabilly: Oh no, 'Killabilly' in b-flat.

Killabilly: You're disappointed.

Swan: Don’t worry, I have a few knives up my sleeve.

Killabilly: I think you mean cards.

Swan, pulling knives out of their sleeves: No, I do not

Swan: I know you’re deflecting by making jokes about how hot you are.

Killabilly: It’s not a joke.

Killabilly: *sniffles*

Killabilly: I’m a legit snack.

Swan: What are your goals?

Killabilly: To pet all the dogs.

Swan: No, fitness goals.

Killabilly: To be able to run fast enough to pet all the dogs.

Swan: Do you have any skeletons in your closet?

Killabilly: You mean literally or figuratively?

Swan: Honestly, the fact that I have to specify...

Swan: So are we flirting right now?

Killabilly: I AM LITERALLY STABBING YOU

Swan: That doesn’t answer my question

Swan, watching the news: Someone tried to fight a squid at the aquarium today!

Killabilly: *walks in covered with ink* Well, maybe the squid was being a dick.

Swan: So that’s my plan.

Killabilly: Are you alright with constructive criticism? I don’t want to sound mean.

Swan: No, go ahead, I want to hear it.

Killabilly: It fucking sucks.

Swan: That’s not constructive criticism.