#even if;;;;;;;;; she's not intended for the group;;;;;;;;;;;

[eddiemunsonbrainrot]

i was looking through my room and found an SFX magazine that I got when stranger things 2 came out, and some of Finn’s answers are super interesting and massively point towards byler endgame even back then 👀

Note how Finn says Mike isn’t happy because a) he doesn’t like outsiders, and b) he’s ’envious because they like Max’. Firstly, there’s no mention that he doesn’t like Max because she’s trying to take El’s place, like lots of milkvans claim he is. Mike only doesn’t like her, because she’s trying to get into the group generally. And even though Finn might not have meant it like this, the wording makes it sound like Mike is jealous that Dustin and Lucas like Max romantically, and he’s frustrated that he doesn’t.

This answer specifically pushes Mike and El as solely platonically especially! Finn directly compares El’s love for him to the love his friends have for him. He turns into a leader when he is motivated and loved, and that’s exactly what Will does for him in season 2. Will operates exactly the same as El for Mike. Finn even says he’s focusing too much on El, which Mike literally says in season 4. Doesn’t sound much like true love to me if this is a repeated insinuation.

Also Gaten only differentiates the bond Mike and El had to Dustin and El by saying it was stronger, not that it was different in nature. He could have easily said that Mike was struggling more because he romantically liked El, but he didn’t. This just proves that Mike and El were never intended to be endgame if you ask me.

[jacksabbotts]

·˚ ༘ ┊͙ ˊˎ - QUIRK AND STEALTH ( part three )

main masterlist || series masterlist || inbox || join the taglist || dividers by @cafekitsune

. ᵒ . ➛ PAIR . robert floyd x bartender!reader

. ᵒ . ➛ SUMMARY . in which you ( the reader ) agree to bartend for one night, the dagger squad walks in with sunburned smiles and no idea who you are, bob floyd drinks ginger ale and watches you like you’re something holy, everyone assumes you and bradley are together ( gross ), your father shows up just to kiss your mother, and the only thing stopping you from falling apart is the boy with the quiet eyes and the soft hands who kisses like you’re the only thing that’s ever made sense.

. ᵒ . ➛ TRIGGER WARNINGS . lowercase intended!!! parental abandonment / estranged parent , emotional neglect , emotional hurt / familial tension , mentions of therapy and identity crisis , alcohol use ( implied ) , mild profanity , post topgun : maverick events , kissing ( this is not a drill, bobby's got some moves lmao )

. ᵒ . ➛ AUTHORS NOTES . i Hate ( with a capital H ) making mav and penny the bad guys but all in due time lmao. there is a happy ending in store for these three. reminder!!!! i am not responsible for your media consumption. read at your own discretion.

. ᵒ . ➛ WORD COUNT . ~ 3.0k

the hard deck smelled like citrus cleaner, lime wedges, and salt—like someone had wiped up last night’s chaos and lit a matchstick under the remnants.

the floor was still sticky in places. the jukebox was humming to itself in the corner, not yet playing, like it was warming up for a show. and the air had that thick, coastal heat to it—something that clung to your skin and made your hair feel heavier than it should.

you checked the clock on the wall.

5:57 pm

three minutes to open. you were behind the bar already, hands moving on autopilot as you sliced fruit, stacked glassware, double-checked your garnishes. it was the kind of busy work you could do with your eyes closed—and right now, that suited you fine. you didn’t want to think. thinking led to feeling, and you were already hanging on by a thread.

your hands stilled just long enough to pull your hair up and off your neck, tying it with a thin elastic band from your wrist. you could still hear your mothers voice in your head from earlier, trying too hard to act like everything was fine. 'just tonight.'

as if she hadn’t some how planned for this. as if she hadn’t known that asking you to step behind this bar again would make you feel something you weren’t ready to name.

at exactly 6:00 pm, you flipped the open sign on the front door. it clanged slightly against the glass, a sound that felt too loud in the empty space.

you exhaled. rolled your shoulders. braced yourself.

the first hour passed slow and quiet. a few locals drifted in. regulars who knew better than to flirt with the girl behind the bar when she had that look on her face. you poured beers. you wiped counters. you didn’t smile, but you were polite.

it wasn’t until nearly 7:15 that the shift started to change.

you clocked them before the door even finished swinging open. the kind of group you could spot from a mile away : loud, golden, sun-drenched energy wrapped in aviator shades and cocky grins. dagger squad.

you’d been briefed. your mother told you they might show. 'be nice,' she’d said. 'they’re good people.' she'd said.

you didn’t trust good people.

jake seresin, better known as hangman, walked in first, like he owned the air. sunglasses pushed up into his hair, smile already dialed to lethal. 'well, well, well,' he drawled as he slid up to the bar. 'you must be new.'

you raised a brow without looking up from your bar mat. 'or you’re just not very observant.'

jake laughed, unbothered. 'feisty. i like that.'

you handed him a coaster. 'good for you. what’ll it be?'

'whiskey sour. make it two—my friend’ll have something boring. ginger ale, probably.'

'you say that like it’s a bad thing,' a quieter voice said.

you looked up and there he was.

soft blue eyes, kind smile. something gentle in the way he held himself, like he knew how to take up space without demanding it. his hair was slightly mussed from the wind, and he wore his uniform like it didn’t quite belong to him.

'ginger ale?' you asked.

he nodded. 'yes, ma'am, please.' you poured both drinks, slid them across the bar. bob gave you a polite nod. jake winked. 'you always this charming, or is this just for me?' jake asked.

you didn’t miss a beat. 'this is me being nice. don’t ruin it.'

jake howled with laughter, turned to the others now pouring in behind him. 'god, i love this place.'

bob stayed quiet but he didn’t take his eyes off you.

you noticed. you pretended you didn’t.

seven-thirty turned to eight. eight to eight-forty-five.

the golden streaks of sunset dimmed into the blue-black of a navy evening, and the jukebox began its slow crawl through classic rock. the bar glowed low and amber beneath the bulbs strung across the ceiling, each one humming with life.

pool balls clicked in the back corner. laughter rolled like ocean waves. penny’s place—always alive at night—felt like it pulsed with something bigger than sound.

you kept moving.

you didn’t have time to think. that had been the plan. your hands flew through orders, your smile sharp-edged and practiced. you poured beers, wiped down counters, shook cocktails you didn’t care to name.

you laughed when someone told a joke. you winked when someone flirted. you checked ids and scanned crowds and kept your heart two steps behind your body.

because if you let yourself pause, you might think about the fact that your father was still texting you and asking you to reconsider staying.

and you couldn’t think about that. not right now. not when you were trying so fucking hard to hold it together. not when every single shift in the corner of your eye made you flinch.

'can i get two whiskey sours? please ma'am.” said a voice to your right. you turned, pen ready—and found yourself staring the same soft blue eyed aviator from earlier.

and now without hangman's incessant flirting you were able to actually take him in. he was tall. blonde hair in a tousled cut. clean-shaven. blue eyes clear as day behind wire-rimmed glasses.

'uh, hi,' you said before you could stop yourself.

he blinked. 'hi.'

you nodded toward the end of the bar. paused forgetting for a moment that he had asked for something. 'two whiskey sours?'

he glanced briefly, then back at you and nodded. 'for you?' it was really none of your business but you just had to ask because the other aviator had mentioned that his friend was boring and drank ginger ale. 'no, for, uh, my friend, hangman.'

you blinked, of course you knew of callsigns, you grew up right next to base and your father was an actually legend in the field of naval aviators, but you had never heard of one quite so ridiculous as hangman. 'hangman?'

'it’s a callsign. i’m bob.' you stared. then snorted. you took it back, that was the most ridiculous callsign of all time. he raised a brow. 'something funny?'

'no, no,' you said, grinning despite yourself. 'it’s just… i thought callsigns were more unique.'

'what do i look like?'

you squinted at him, sizing him up. 'i dunno, quirk or maybe stealth.'

'quirk?'

you shrugged. 'you seem kinda quirky. no offense. to be honest, i dont know much about how callsigns work. my dads in the navy but we're not really close.'

'none taken,' he said, straight-faced. 'i’ve been told i give strong ‘baby chick who volunteers at the library’ energy.'

you laughed. genuinely. he smiled, wide and toothy. 'so whats your real name. i'm getting a clark vibe. maybe peter.' he flushed instantly, his cheeks beet red and he looks down embarrassed. 'its, uh, my real names bob, too.'

'you're kidding?' you ask.

he shakes his head. 'unfortunately not. technically robert, but everyone calls me bob.'

you laugh again, and it is infectious. bob can't but join but not without a little quip of his own. 'you gonna make me those whiskey sours, or keep roasting my government name?'

you raised your brows. 'don’t tempt me, robert.' ( and damn him if his khakis didn't tighten at the sound of his full name coming from your lips. ) bob’s smile widened—just slightly—and something inside your chest shifted. it was quiet, small, but there. a warmth. a pulse.

you turned to grab the shaker. 'one sec.'

as you worked, bob didn’t try to fill the silence. he didn’t lean over the bar or try to impress you with some recycled pick-up line. he just stood quietly, watched you with gentle interest, and—when you slid the drinks in front of him—he said a soft, 'thanks.'

you hesitated. then carefully you asked. 'another ginger ale?'

it was almost as if you were quite ready for him to leave your little bubble you had created. he shook his head, lifted his glass, still half full. 'i think i'm good, but thank you.'

'you dont drink?' now you were prying.

'don’t really do alcohol.'

you tilted your head. 'religious?'

'nope.'

'bad history?'

'nope.'

'just don’t like it?'

'pretty much.'

you blinked. 'huh.'

'what?'

you shrugged, glancing around. 'nothing. just… this place isn’t exactly packed with restraint.'

bob chuckled. 'i’ve noticed.'

you hesitated, fingers tapping the counter. 'so you're a pilot?'

he shook his head and that made you pause. you look down at the uniform he was wearing, you'd see it a dozen times and always worn by pilots. 'weapons systems officer, actually.'

'oh,' you said. noncommittal. neutral. the last thing you wanted was another reminder of your father. bob didn’t seem to notice. he sipped his drink.

you looked at him. really looked at him.

he wasn’t like the others. he was observant without being invasive. present without being too close. and maybe—just maybe—that was why your guard slipped. even for just a second.

before you could say anything else, a sharp voice broke the moment.

'hey, bartender!' you turned—only to find a tall, golden-haired man, hangman you now know, leaning against the other end of the bar like he owned the damn place.

you knew the type. smirk too smug. smile too shiny. eyes that scanned you like a game to win.

he winked. 'that my whiskey sour. you know, i'd love your number, if it’s on the menu.'

bob cleared his throat. 'jake—'

hangman grinned. 'what? can’t a guy appreciate a beautiful bartender?' you rolled your eyes and pushed the drink away from bob and towards hangman. 'appreciate with your eyes, not your mouth.'

'ouch,' hangman said, clearly unbothered. bob muttered something under his breath. from behind you, another voice chimed in. 'bagman, knock it the fuck off.'

you didn’t need to turn to recognize it. bradley.

hangman lifted his hands in mock surrender. 'easy, rooster.'

'hey, brad.' you mumbled as he walked by you and towards hangman. he gave you a smile and nod. hangman had backed off, and bob offered a subtle, apologetic glance.

you nodded once. then turned back to your station. your heart thudded dully in your chest.

hangmans eyebrows jumped, hands lifting in surrender. 'whoa, okay,' he muttered. 'didn’t realize it was like that.'

you turned away before you could register the look on Bob’s face. or the thousand wrong conclusions leaping into place behind his eyes.

you didn’t see the way bob’s fingers tightened around his glass.

didn’t see the hurt flicker across his face, fast and quiet and politely tucked away. didn’t see bradley glance sideways at him, jaw clenched. but you did feel the heat rise in your chest.

and you did pour the next drink harder than necessary. you were used to being misunderstood. but this time?

this time it stung.

especially when bob didn’t say anything at all.

it was just past ten when the door swung open.

you were wiping down the bar, arms aching but brain finally, finally still. for the first time in days—maybe weeks—you felt like you could breathe.

bob had stayed near the counter, nursing his ginger ale and offering occasional, quiet conversation that didn’t make your skin crawl or your heart spike. he was sweet. smart. Kind in a way that didn’t make you flinch.

you were mid-laugh—something small and private and real—when the wind shifted. the door creaked open and pete mitchell stepped into the bar. he didn’t look toward you.

didn’t scan the crowd.

didn’t check the corners.

he just beelined for penny.

your body stiffened. you stopped mid-wipe, rag clutched in your hand like a rope.

he smiled at her. warm and familiar. your mothers face lit up. not cautiously. not hesitantly.lLike it was normal. like it was easy. like he hadn’t been a ghost for two decades.

he leaned in and kissed her cheek. she laughed at something he said. and that was it. no glance at the bar. no glance at you. you stared down at the rag in your hand. something cracked—deep and invisible and ancient.

you gave a single, tiny nod to yourself. like a game piece being taken off the board.

of course

of course.

everyone chooses him.

penny, who once told you he wasn’t worth your time.

bradley, who used to rage at him with you on the phone like he was the world’s biggest disappointment.

even pete himself—who couldn’t look at you for five fucking minutes without folding, who always took the easy road, who got to walk in here like nothing had happened.

you blinked. swallowed. let the rag drop to the counter.

you felt like a ghost behind the bar—present, but not seen. you could’ve screamed and no one would have noticed. except bob. because he saw absolutely everything. 'something wrong?' bob asked gently.

you forced a smile. 'yeah. peachy.'

but he didn’t look convinced. his eyes flicked past you toward the far end of the bar, then back again—like he’d just caught the last few seconds of a movie he didn’t understand.

your hands shook as you turned away. and you didn’t look at the door again for the rest of the night.

the hard deck had thinned out, significantly.

most of the dagger squad had migrated to the beach or piled into ubers, laughing too loud and smelling like salt and bourbon. bradley was already gone—dragged out by fanboy and payback, who insisted on one last late-night taco run.

nat had winked at you on her way out, mouthing, 'call me later,' and you hadn’t had the heart to tell her you probably wouldn’t. and your mother, she'd disappeared after you saw pete kiss your mom.

everyone was gone except bob stayed.

and of course he did.

he was at the far end of the bar, nursing his second ginger ale like it was a glass of whiskey, watching you stack empty pint glasses with practiced precision. you weren’t looking at him—but you could feel him.

when you yanked the register drawer open a little too hard, a cascade of coins spilled onto the floor. you swore under your breath, crouched to pick them up.

'need a hand?' came that soft southern lilt.

you looked up. bob floyd was already off his stool, setting his glass down carefully before moving to help you gather the scattered change.

'i’ve got it,' you muttered.

'i know,' he said, crouching anyway. 'but i’ve been told i’m helpful. it’s my one flaw.'

you huffed a small laugh. he grinned at the sound of it. a beat passed. just the clink of quarters in a jar and the quiet static of the jukebox winding down.

then he said, 'you okay?'

You blinked. The question shouldn’t have surprised you. But it did.

'no one’s asked me that tonight, besides you.' you admitted. 'not really.'

he tilted his head. 'i'm sorry.'

you stared at him. bob, who had been polite, lowkey, golden-retriever-level respectful all night—who gave you space without being distant. who didn’t flirt, didn’t leer, didn’t interrupt, just… watched.

'you’re too nice,' you said, softer now.

bob stood, brushing his hands off on his jeans. 'that’s a new one.'

'i mean it.'

'i believe you.'

the silence stretched, electric and unresolved. your pulse skittered. you stepped closer. he blinked once, but didn’t back away. 'i want to kiss you,' you said plainly. he froze.

'…I don’t think you should do that,' he said gently.

you stared at him. stung. 'wow. okay. that’s…'

'wait—no, not like that.' he looked pained. 'it’s just—i thought you and brad—bradshaw, i mean—'

you squinted. 'me and bradley?'

'i just—' bob scratched the back of his neck, flustered. 'i don't want to make assumptions but you two seemed close. and he told Hangman to back off you, and i figured—'

you burst out laughing. not unkind, just stunned.

“oh my god,” you wheezed. 'i'm not laughing at you, i swear. just the thought of bradley and i, ugh.' bob was turning pinker by the second. 'he’s very protective.aAnd you guys—'

'i've known him since i was literally in diapers. he's like my actual brother.' you explaied ( conveniently leaving out the fact that bradley was technically your god brother ). bob blinked. '…oh.'

'yeah.'

a pause. you turned back to him and this time you didn't ask.

it wasn’t explosive. it wasn’t messy. ot wasn’t rushed, desperate, or fast.

it was sweet.

bob kissed you like he wasn’t sure he deserved to. like he was memorizing your mouth one gentle pass at a time, like the moment might slip through his fingers if he wasn’t careful.

you kissed him like you were starving.

his hand came up, cautious, settling at your jaw, thumb brushing under your ear. you grabbed his shirt with both hands and pulled him in harder.

his breath hitched. 'god,' he whispered. 'you’re not making this easy.'

'good,' you murmured against his lips. 'i don’t want easy.'

his forehead rested against yours. 'when i thought you and bradley were a thing, god, i felt so stupid.'

'we are hundred percent not a thing.'

'are you sure?'

'i’m so sure,' you said, fisting the fabric at his chest. 'please shut the fuck up and keep kissing me.' he blushed at your vulgarity but there was nothing that was gonna stop him from kissing you in this moment.

it hit you later.

not in the moment—when his hands slid to your hips, when you tangled your fingers in his hair, when your back bumped against the bar and you thought god, finally, something that feels good.

it hit you after.

after bob helped you close out the till. after he'd kissed your cheek like a goddamn gentleman. then your mouth, then your forehead, and said, 'i’ll call you tomorrow, if that’s okay.'

you said yes. of course you did. then leaned against, hands shaking, heart racing, wondering what the hell you just did. you didn't have the heart to tell him you were leaving the state in the morning.

and yet here you were—grinning like an idiot into a dirty bar rag, cheeks flushed.

🔖  .    @princesssunderworld  @qtmoonies  @spooky-librarian-ghost  @Soupie_MeowMeow  @gardeniarose13  @flyinglama  @kmc1989  @letstryagaintomorrow @madzleigh01  @qardasngan  @sweetdayme4427

[runningincircl3s]

idk if i’m way too late for this but kinda curious with noah’s pov when he happened to meet reader at the cafe 🥹

noo it's never too late! i’d still write any moment throughout the entire story! :) also i didn't know how long to make this, so i just rewrote the entire cafe scene from his pov <3

Noah got back home a couple days ago, but you didn't know that. He had been hanging around by the gym, just hoping to catch you coming home from work or going out somewhere with your friends, but he hadn't seen you once.

He wanted to apologise for missing the last class, he could just imagine your face when you'd turn to find out he wasn't coming. He felt awful, he was supposed to let Tasha know so she could tell you, but he forgot to send the message.

He had quite a busy day today, he was supposed to spend it in the studio working on the next album, but he went out to take a quick break. He knew there was a cafe near your street, it was almost in between yours and his home, but he didn't go with the hopes of seeing you today.

He ordered his usual, a fruity tea, and sat down at a table. He'd planned to go through some emails, reply to some and delete the others…

And then he heard the bell above the door jingle, he looked up out of instinct, expecting it to just be some stranger. Maybe a mother, maybe a little group of friends, maybe a businessman on oh his break… but he didn’t expect it to be you.

You walked in, an unusual frown on your face, your eyes glued to your phone as you stepped into the line. His heart sunk a little as he looked at you, you looked tired- exhausted even. You moved with the line, and when it was your turn to order, he got up.

Maybe this is what you needed, he thought, a little pick me up, a kind gesture. Just as you reached into your pocket to pay, he tapped his card on the machine, waiting for the little beep.

He saw you look up suddenly, surprised, and then your brows furrowed as you saw his hand, he watched your eyes trail up his arm, his shoulder, his neck, before you looked him in the eyes- relief and something a little sad crossing over your face.

"Thought I recognised you," Noah said with a soft smile, "Didn't expect to see you here." That was only half a lie.

Noah handed the receipt over to you, watching your brain malfunction as you tried to form a sentence.

"I... Thank you." You finally managed, your voice a little shaky.

Noah couldn't help but notice how you didn't seem yourself, like the light in your eyes had dimmed, the tone in your voice had flattened, your shoulders were a little hunched. He tilted his head, his eyes searching your face before asking,

"You okay?" It came out a little softer than he intended, but you quickly nodded, almost a little too quick to be believable.

"Yeah... I just didn't expect to see you here."

Noah smiled, tucking one hand into his pocket, the other holding his tea.

"Yeah, I was thinking the same thing." He chuckled.

"But I... I only live down the street from here," you explained, "I come here pretty often."

"Oh, really?" Noah's eyebrows raised, "I've never seen you in here before." Because he certainly would've noticed you before if he did.

You chuckled at that, and just seeing you smile made him feel warm inside.

"You come here often?" You asked, looking up to meet his eyes.

"Sometimes," he shrugged, "I don't really drink coffee anymore, but I like the tea here."

"Oh," you smiled, your voice a little curious, "I've never tried their tea before, but I like their latte's."

Noah thought for a quick moment, would it be weird to offer some of his to you? But before he knew it, he was holding his cup out to you, with a look that said try some.

He saw how you hesitated for a moment, but then you reached out, your fingers brushing his slightly as you took it from him.

He watched as you lifted the cup to your lips, taking a little sip. He hoped it wasn't too hot, but he didn't see you flinch so that settled him a little.

"That's really nice." You nodded as you handed it back.

"Told you." Noah said with a proud grin as he took it back, and he couldn't help but notice the little smudge of whatever lip balm you must've been wearing on the cup.

Your name was called, and you collected your drink. Noah stood a little awkwardly behind you, not wanting to leave without apologising first.

So, as you turned back around, he said it.

“I'm sorry for missing the last class, I had to go out of town for a few days... work stuff." He explained, hoping you wouldn't question it too much, "I didn’t mean to vanish. I was supposed to let Tasha know, to tell you, but I kinda forgot.”

He watched as relief visibly crossed your face, and he couldn't help but feel awful.

“I thought maybe I’d scared you off.” You said with a little laugh, you tried to play it off as a joke but he could sense the truth behind it.

"Because of your friends?"

He watched you nod slowly, almost as if you were ashamed.

"They can get a little too much sometimes... I'm sorry-"

“No,” he said, still smiling as he tried to reassure you. “I liked them.”

“You… liked them?” You asked, as if it was impossible.

But the truth is, he did like your friends. He liked the things you had told him about them before, they reminded him a little of his own friends.

“I thought they were funny,” he nodded, “But they clearly care about you a lot. That’s cool.”

He saw your expression change a little at those words. He watched you swallow, your eyes suddenly softening again as you fiddled with the corner of label on the cup in your hands. He could tell something was on your mind, even without you saying a word.

"I felt a little lost without you there," you finally said, confirming his suspicions. It must've been playing on your mind, "I had no one to laugh at me when I tripped!"

That made him chuckle, and the two of you began to move away from the counter, realising you were getting in the way of the next customer.

"Well," he began, a spontaneous idea popping into his mind, surely this isn't too forward... "If I get your number, I can let you know if I ever have to miss a day again..."

"Really?" He watched your eyes widened as you spoke, you looked as if you've won on a lottery ticket, and he tried not to show how that made him feel.

So, with a smirk, Noah reached into his hoodie pocket and pulled out his phone, unlocking it before offering it to you.

"Really." He nodded.

You looked down at the device like it was something sacred, then up at him again.

“You sure?” You asked, looking up at him with big, careful eyes.

"Yes." He laughed, "Unless you want to keep living in suspense every week."

That got a little playful eyeroll out of you. But he didn’t miss the way your fingers trembled a bit when you took the phone, or how your cheeks were getting redder by the second as you typed your number in.

You were flustered, and it was adorable. He tried to hide the smile on his face, knowing it was him making you feel this way.

But then you handed the phone back over, and he immediately spotted the heart you had put next to your name.

“There,” you said, “Now you can’t disappear without warning.”

“A heart?” He teased, one brow lifting. He knew he wouldn't change it... it was perfect.

“Shut up. I panicked.” You waved a hand like it was nothing, but the flush of pink in your cheeks revealed the truth.

“No complaints," Noah smirked as he slipped his phone back into his pocket, his voice unintentionally dropping a little lower, "It suits you.”

Noah caught the way you tried to hide your grin behind your coffee cup as you took a sip, he caught everything- the way you were standing closer to him now, the way your body language was a lot more relaxed now compared to when you first walked in, the way the frown on your face vanished the moment you saw him.

He tilted his head as he watched you, wanting to say more, to say anything- but then he heard your phone buzz in your pocket. He watched as the colour drained from your face, your eyes widening as you read whatever message popped up on your screen.

“Shit,” you whispered. “I’ve gotta run... I'm working from home and I'm supposed to be on a meeting... my boss is going to kill me.”

Noah stepped aside, letting you pass. He knew how you were in trouble with your boss already, you had opened up to him about that during the last class, and he didn't want to be responsible for you losing your job completely.

“Go. Save your job. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

He watched you nod as you made your way to the door in a rush, coffee in hand.

“Yeah. Tomorrow. Same time?” You nodded, waiting by the door as an old couple came walking in.

“Wouldn’t miss it.” He smiled, because it was the truth. He had missed you more than he should've whilst he was gone, and even just seeing you today for these five minutes was enough to put a smile on his face for the rest of the day.

The couple had passed, and you were holding the door open. But before you left, you glanced over your shoulder once more.

He was still watching you, still standing in the spot you left him, and as your eyes met he gave you a wink. Not to be cocky, but to tell you I'm thinking about you too...

[thatemoartist]

So....I went back to the drawing board for my Ultrakill AU: Heavenly Blossoms of Love (I am changing the title.) and after some rewrites, axed characters, and added characters... As well as AU lore... I finally have something... Decent actually!

New Title: Ultrakill: Purpose AU

Why Purpose? Because that's largely the theme of this AU... Everyone is either finding purpose, or understanding their purpose... Or realizing their differences hold their own purposes.

The main cast consists of Gabriel, V1 (Now named Eddie), and 2 OCs: Maya (Gabriel's student/daughter figure), and Cyrilis (a young angel whom Gabriel took under his wing (no pun intended.)

Story of each:

Gabriel: He was assigned to watch over/raise Maya by The Creator (God), the purpose was for the Sword of Heaven himself to learn gentleness through fatherhood which he does. Through raising Maya and learning gentleness, he takes Cyrilis under his wing, and he even shows mercy to V1 (more on that later.) Gabriel's still himself, but now he has that gentle, parental edge to him. He's the leader, mentor, and father of this group.

Eddie/V1: Eddie gains a new purpose after being destroyed, rebuilt, and cleansed by Gabriel... He learns to value things and not kill everything in sight. He learns the concept of family through his siblings relationship with Maya. He learns loyalty to a team... So essentially, the formerly bloodthirsty machine gains his purpose through his newfound humanity. Also... Eddie was the new name given to him but Maya (because V1 sounded weird to her). He's aloof, childish, just trying to understand himself and this family.

Maya: The (somewhat) adopted daughter of Gabriel... She's a human (sticks out in such a roster, eh?) She was assigned to Gabriel by the Creator... Gabriel was reluctant to raise her at first... But she grew on him. He trained her body and taught her how to wield heavenly powers. She's a bubbly, and intelligent young lady, with a silly streak!

Cyrilis: A young lower level angel who felt purposeless and lost... Until Gabriel decided to teach him... This Tagalong student becomes part of this family unit! Despite him trying to be serious at all times, he's actually quite a funny guy.

The three: Maya, Eddie, and Cyrilis are trained by Gabriel himself and they become his team, his unit.

Like, this AU could be a mixture of action (As Ultrakill is action based) and slice of life moments amongst the four (because I wanted the AU to be a bit wholesome.)

I like this idea WAYYY MORE than what I originally had!!!

What do you think though?

[lenishhiew]

Visitors (1/?)

ch1 of my first snzfic! hope it is up to standard (there will be more sneezing in chapter 2, which i plan to post in a couple of days)

cw mess

It’s the field mice, definitely. The girls in town have been raving about them, “take pictures! Take pictures!” every time Junie travels up to grab something from the market stalls that she can’t forage for herself. But, as she tells Mara and Lillian over and over, she can’t take pictures, because she can’t see the damn things.

They rustle around like parchment paper, they squeak in the middle of the night, she finds bite marks in her baby spinach – she’s sick of them. She hasn’t laid traps – god, no – they deserve to be there just as much as she does. After all, she built her house on their grounds.

Recently, though, they have been annoying Junie more than usual. Her crops, all of them, ripped to shreds by tiny yellow teeth. Her poor lettuce. At least they’re out of salad season now – the sharp bite of mid-autumn makes it clear that it’s time for her to focus more on soups and stews.

This, along with a vague craving for chestnuts, is what brings Junie to the outskirts of the forest early one rainy morning. Mushrooms, several kinds, ones you can use for just about anything, should be scattered everywhere – unless the mice have gotten to them already – and she intends to use them for said just about everything. So, there she is, bending over and squinting at a group of what she thinks are large-ish white buttons, when she suddenly hears a branch crack a few yards away.

She whips around to face in the direction of the noise, straightening up as quietly as she can manage, hand clutching at the pocket knife in her apron. She rarely gets visitors here, and much less so in the woods.

Closing her eyes to gather her bearings, Junie reminds herself there are deer, hedgehogs, foxes, and rabbits inhabiting the forest. Right – that would make much more sense. She loosens her grip on the knife, about to continue inspecting the mushrooms, when a pained-sounding “uuurgh” comes from the same area.

Okay, definitely not an animal. Okay. Junie grabs ahold of the knife again, creeping toward the noise, hearing a couple more moans, followed by a wet-sounding cough and a few sniffles.

“Hello?” she calls, edging closer until she can see the source of the noises. It’s a girl, lying prostrate on the forest floor. Junie lowers her weapon and walks around the other side of the girl, trying to see her face – she looks about Junie’s age. She also looks sick, her face slightly ashen, her curly hair sticking to her sweat-soaked face, and Junie bends slightly to get a better look. “Hey. Hey, can you hear me?”

The girl frowns, mumbling something unintelligible in her semi-conscious state, and Junie sighs. She knows very well that she needs to take this girl back to her cottage so that she can recover from whatever illness she’s battling, but the one thing Junie hates more than visitors is visitors who stay in her house.

She stares at the girl for a moment, sizing her up – could Junie take her in a fight? Where had she even come from? Would it be okay to just put her on the couch, or would she have to give up her bed? Eventually, she sighs, crouching down to pick the girl up – thank heaven it’s not far to her house.

In her arms, limp in the bridal position, the girl coughs weakly, and Junie sighs as she walks up the path to her house. A sick visitor who stays in her house.

Great.

-

While the girl sleeps on the couch, Junie takes it upon herself to clean her living room. And her kitchen. And her bathroom. And her bedroom, for whatever reason. It’s stupid, but she feels self-conscious about somebody seeing where she lives, where she eats, where she lays curled up with her cat on her stomach after a long day in the garden. She shouldn’t care, considering she found this girl literally covered in mud and bark – she can’t really judge, can she? – but Junie does care. She cares immensely. So she wipes the kitchen counters, sets her laundry to fold itself while she stacks cups and saucers in the cupboard, scrubs the bathroom mirror until it’s practically sparkling. And then, once she’s determined her house sufficiently clean, she sits in her armchair and stares at the girl, listening to her raspy breathing, studying her fever-damp face.

She doesn’t look bad. Even sick, even covered in dirt, she doesn’t look bad. She’s pretty. Her hair is messy and knotted from laying on the forest floor, but Junie can tell that when she’s healthy, it gleams and bounces as she moves.

There’s something on her face. Not mud. Something orange-ish, almost shiny – oh, she knows what that is, what do they call it – makeup? Junie wonders where she got that – it’s difficult to come by, even in town.

Suddenly, the girl shifts, her face contorting in discomfort, her nose scrunching up. A soft sneeze escapes her – “heh-ishh –” and Junie freezes, hand instinctively flying to her knife, still tucked in her apron from earlier. She lets go, knowing the girl can’t actually do her any harm in this state, but heaven, it’s hard to remember that.

Slowly, the girl’s eyes open, dull with fever, blinking a few times before she locks eyes with Junie.

For a moment, neither of them say anything, and then the girl sneezes again. “Ha-iisch!”

“… Heaven bless,” Junie says after a second. “Are you… what’s your name?”

The girl’s eyes narrow, and she sits up. “What’s my name? What’s your name?” she demands accusatorily, and sniffles, which slightly offsets her arrogant tone. “And where am I?”

Junie sighs. “My name is Junie. You’re at my house, in Fairglade.”

“What’s – where’s Fairglade?”

“A few miles south of Lovalley.”

The girl stares. “You’re not even saying real words right now.”

Junie pulls her mouth to the side. “… Where are you from?”

“Boston.”

Junie feels a twinge of recognition in her chest, but she can’t place it. “Right… well, this isn’t… Boston. This is Fairglade. You’re here. Now, what’s your name?”

The girl seems to evaluate the situation for a little while, and then she mutters, “Nava.”

“Okay. Nice name.”

The girl – Nava – shifts uncomfortably, rubbing her dripping nose with her sleeve. “I’m… I’m sick.”

“Yeah.”

“How… did I get here?”

“I found you. In the woods, just down there.” Junie points vaguely in the direction of the woods. “You probably would’ve frozen to death if it weren’t for me. Just saying.”

Nava scowls. “Probably wouldn’t have. My body is a temple.”

“You weigh, like, ninety pounds.”

“One hundred and forty, actually.”

Junie smiles despite herself. “I like that you actually know that.”

“Well, I’m in the gym a lot. So.”

“I don’t know what that is.”

Nava frowns. “… Okay.”

They sit in silence for another five-ish minutes, until Nava inhales sharply, and lets out a few wet, messy sneezes. “Heh-ischh! HAisch! Hiih-DSHiew!”

“Heaven bless,” Junie says automatically. “Do you need a handkerchief?”

“A – a handkerchief?” Nava says in slight disbelief, holding her sleeve to her nose. “Um… ew. Do you have tissues?”

Junie stares for a few seconds, and then she murmurs, “Oh my heaven.”

“Oh my heaven what? You think tissues are less gross than a handkerchief that you use over and over again with the same germs on it?”

“Oh my heaven, you’re a human,” Junie says, all the pieces clicking together in her mind. The makeup. Boston. The gym. Tissues. Nava is a human, of all things to be.

“Of fucking course I’m a human! You’re not?” Nava cries, a bewildered expression on her face, and Junie sighs in exasperation. “No, I’m a witch.”

“Are – are you serious?” Nava edges back, pushing herself against the couch cushions, and Junie rolls her eyes. “Heaven, I’m not dangerous. You’re more likely to hurt me than I am to hurt you.”

“Me? You’re a witch!”

“I’m a healing witch! I literally had to take an oath not to harm offensively!”

“Well, how am I meant to know that? Jesus, this is insane!”

Junie takes a deep breath, seeing how genuinely freaked out Nava looks, putting her hands out, palms facing outward. “Okay. Okay, let’s just calm down. You’re not going to hurt me, and I’m not going to hurt you, so let’s just – calm.”

Nava breathes heavily, snot dripping from her nose, going back up a little when she inhales. Junie tries not to stare. When it looks like she’s a little calmer, Junie says calmly, “Now, do you want a handkerchief? I’d imagine you probably need to blow your nose.”

Nava stares for a moment, and then nods begrudgingly. “… Yes, please.”

Junie smiles slightly, clicking her fingers and grabbing the handkerchief that floats from the dining table. She holds it out to Nava, who hesitates a moment before taking it. “Thanks.”

Junie looks away politely as Nava blows her nose wetly into the handkerchief, gingerly placing it on the coffee table when she’s done. “Um… do you have, like, a healing thing to make the illness go away?”

“That’s not really how it works,” Junie says, smiling apologetically. “I can bring your fever down easily if you want me to, but I can’t do much about symptoms.”

“Ugh… do you have any Dayquil?”

“… Again, I don’t –”

“ – know what that is. Got it,” Nava sighs, rubbing her nose again. “Hey, I’m really congested still… you don’t have, like, a witch shower or anything, do you?”

Junie stares. “Yeah, I have a shower. Not everything is so human-centric, you know.”

“Okay, fine! Sorry.”

“It’s down the hall. Just to the left. I’ll bring you a towel and some clean clothes, too.”

“Thank you,” Nava says, her eyes crinkling as she gives a small, genuine smile. Junie smiles back, and watches as she pushes herself up and stumbles down the hall.

There is a human in her house. A sick human stranger. Sleeping on her couch. About to use her shower.

She can’t bring herself to care.

[steamberrystudio]

The Q&A's are really fun, but they got me wondering. Who on the crew have the closer friendships with the ROs? Does anyone not get along so well with anyone else? I love found family and i got to wondering about the little family dramas.

I couldn't tell if this meant to be about the ROs themselves or the entire crew so I'll answer both.

With the ROs/LIs, Asher and Daaz are of course best friends. Raif and Yren are closer friends and Yren and Daaz are closer to each other.

Raif and Noel are late night talking buddies sometimes. And Kav and Noel ended up forging a fairly close friendship after Kav's arrival. Noel is well aware that Kav has a lot of secrets - it worries him sometimes but he never presses for them because they have known each other less than two years at this point and he figures Kav will share it at some point if he's comfortable with it. But sometimes at night he does wonder if or when Kav will find him trustworthy enough to open up. The wall there is sometimes REALLY obvious and when it's super apparent the distance Kav hold everyone out, it bothers him a little.

Raif and Asher bicker but they still care about each other in that sibling sort of way. Same for Raif and Kav. Raif and Kav have a slightly more tense relationship because Raif knows Kav is lying his ass off about a lot and it bugs him. He can't sense anything from Kav but he's really good at reading people's demeanor as well and he can just tell that Kav's lies aren't malicious. There's just too much there - years and years of stuff Kav doesn't want to talk about. It puts him on edge because he keeps waiting for the shoe to drop and the lid to get blown off whatever Kav is hiding.

Aside from that there isn't any particular drama amongst the main cast. Everyone actually has a pretty chill personality so there isn't much room for not getting along.

The side characters we see are the ones that are closest to the main cast.

Gates is obviously very close to Noel and they've known each other since his "stupid and reckless" days.

Cim and Raif are friends. She doesn't appear as much as Gates but they actually get along really well and he hangs out with her and Kaeto after hours sometimes. Cim is a little high strung and can get him on edge sometimes with the sheer force of her emotions but Kaeto is generally really chill so it balances out.

Lerin and Fraise are friends with everyone but not super close. Originally Fraise had the role of Gates but Gates ended up being a bit more fun to write so I pushed him into more of a spotlight. Where Lerin ended up being the mature parent of the group. So the two of them ended having a slightly different dynamic with everyone than originally intended. Lerin and Kav...clash. Not in an unfriendly way but he absolutely drives them nuts. Which is on purpose. Which they know. Which...does not prevent it from working.

Fraise and Asher clash some but usually in a very bicker-y sort of wait. Asher really likes to tease Fraise and sometimes Fraise gets revenge in ways that genuinely get on Asher's nerves because Fraise sees him as "a kid" which Asher hates. But they generally get along.

Kaeto, again, is also meant to be friends with everyone but just doesn't show up as much because there's just not really room for those interactions.

I guess the point is that the visible named characters are all meant to be a part of the main friend group even if we only see some of them then during the big, chaotic group scenes.

And there really isn't a lot of drama on the crew in general because everyone is pretty laid back. LoL My take on found families is usually that everyone roasts everyone all the time and they all love it. 🤣🤣

[darkxwolfdoesart]

AGHGHGHHGHG- Lizzy’s own confidence boosting Uzi’s- AGHHHHH- that is so cute- I love it!-

also, I can definitely see Lizzy’ features integrating with her normal look being around the time she lets a bit more of her actual personality out, she’s still a fair bit bitchy, but shes certainly a queen bee, aka, she acts a bit like an alpha, not the “alpha male” people have built up, but the one friend in the group who has a fanny pack of emergency essentials lol-

MAYBE BEAU AND LIZZY ARE SIBLINGS[twins] IN A WAY—— that would be interesting, since both have big like traits [Beau being a spider and Lizzy being a bee], and would kinda explain why Lizzy has deer traits, it’s her systems, still connected in a way to her twin, subconsciously adopting some traits of the drone her sibling learned to call “mom”-

I can picture V being the one to find the notes on the Savior Initiative while checking through the Cabin Fever Labs for important shit and to give Beau’s body a proper burial-, she doesn’t recognize any of the UNN’s listed [Lizzy’s listed as L-45, Beau’s listed as B-44, and yes, their numbers are intended to kind of signal they were created right before Yeva was infected/her Solverpod form was created lol-] but she does take the notes home-

can of worms opened, too late to close to now-

I feel like Lizzy, due to being a high energy drone who has to work hard to fly lol, since she’s a B E E, has a very high oil intake level normally- hence her chonk, she’s not safe from the chonk- she uses any methods to hide any trace of the bee like fuzzy chonk at first, but she eventually gets a bit more confident in it, mostly because she notices how V doesn’t hate her for it, and even Uzi doesn’t make any comments, so Lizzy relaxes and does accept it- [the gold and black patterns along her spine and faintly on her sides are pretty she decides lol-]

The DD's tails have like no feeling at all. Of course they feel it if you cut it off but if you step on a DD's tail there's a likely chance they wont even notice, they can't feel it.

Uzi's tail though? it's kind of fleshy, just a bit and that's something she's not used to. She can feel every single little breeze, even single little brush against it, and she even claims she can feel someone LOOKING at her tail. It all bothers the crap out of her, it's overstimulating. Lord help anyone while accidentally steps on her tail or accidently whacks it, she will go ape shit

[moeblob]

Because his inner monologues really are just. So long. And I think it's important to show how much this guy thinks in order to say "not quite".

[sezja]

FLUFF-uary 2025 Day 1: First Meeting

Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV Relationship: OC & OC (Tajna Ratyasch & Lytora Envers) (Particularly for @morocosmos, who once requested a glimpse into Lyte and Tajna's shared childhoods.)

She snuck out.

She snuck out!

Hunkering deeper into the fuzzy collar of her coat, Tajna creeps cautiously around the corner of the house, scarcely daring even to breathe. Every little sound - a bird chirping overhead, the wind rustling the grass, even the distant muttering of voices - makes her jump; each noise threatens to send her scurrying back to the safety of her bedroom.

If her grandmother finds out she's snuck out - when she's meant to be napping... ohhhh, she'll be grounded for weeks.

But no one would ever dare imagine that shy, flinching Tajna would ever break the rules; no, she's a good girl. All her tutors say so, and so do her parents, and yes, even her grandmother, strict as she is. No one would ever dream Tajna might be capable of disobedience. No one will even think to check in on her, to make sure she's sound asleep in her bed...

But no.

No, she's creeping her way along the walkways that wind through her neighborhood, trying to - all at once! - avoid being seen, remember where she's going, and look casual while she's at it.

She's got a secret.

It's not a very big secret, of course. Not the kind of secret that would, on its own, get her in trouble. Probably. Maybe. She's not testing it, and that - that little act of rebellion, not reporting what she's doing to her parents - lights a little fire of exhilaration in her core. Maybe she feels brave, a little. Maybe she likes feeling brave. A little.

Heart thumping against her ribs every step of the way, she at last reaches her destination: a little house at the far end of her street, nestled in among some sleepy trees. She knows the man who lives there is a retired gleaner - his wife was a professor at the Studium, and their daughter is one of Tajna's tutors, specializing in botany. Plants. Flowers. Her studies are rudimentary - she's only seven years old, after all - but she does like to flip through her tutor's books, gazing with quiet delight at the diagrams of the various plants and trees from around the world... or at least Eorzea, where the bulk of the research was done, evidently.

Eorzea. Her parents say the word like it's some faraway fantasy land; as though Tajna herself wasn't born in the Dravanian colony just across the way.

Her tutor has been to Eorzea, though.

Tajna's secret is a greenhouse: a glass haven where it's springtime year-round, stocked full of plants from distant Eorzea. Lilies from the depths of the Shroud, roses from the gardens of wealthy Ul'dah monetarists. Bellflowers from La Noscea. Some of them even came from floating islands in the sky, gifts from Ishgardians. Tajna doesn't even know what any of those places are, not really, but her tutor does, and she tells the most wonderful stories...

It tugs at her, a little. A little pull under her heart; a little whisper she can't quite hear just yet.

She settles into the grass just outside the greenhouse, just as she has the last few times she's dared to attempt this escape. She'd worn her boy clothes again today - they almost don't fit anymore, but she hadn't wanted to explain grass stains on the knees of her skirts, and she's grateful for it now; the ground is a little muddy. If her tutor was home, she could've just knocked at the greenhouse door and been let in-

"What are you looking at?"

The voice startles Tajna so badly, she yelps, biting her tongue in the process. No! She couldn't have been seen, she couldn't have been caught-

It's a girl.

A little hyuran girl, more or less her own age, with dark blue-violet hair pinned up in a neat braid, and eyes the color of stormclouds, standing there with her hands fisted at her hips. Tajna's mouth goes dry: she knows this girl, sort of. One of the bossy, brassy, popular girls, always with a gaggle of friends surrounding her... but she's alone for the moment. Or at least she seems to be. Who knows how many other girls might be lurking in the shadows, ready to mock Tajna for being quiet and odd...

"F... flowers," she manages, after too long a pause. She'd hoped the girl might wander off, bored.

Instead, much to Tajna's dismay, the interloper delicately pads her way over across the grass, lifting the hem of her long skirt ever-so-slightly. She stands a moment by the hrothgar's side, peering through the misty glass. Tajna feels cold all over, and it owes nothing to the chilly Sharlayan air: this girl could ruin everything! If she tattles, if she decides to mock and tease, if she just... just knows about Tajna's secret, then-

"Flowers," the girl repeats, a little bemused. "So there are. I wonder how they keep them from freezing?"

"It... it's a greenhouse..."

"Yes, but," the girl gestures impatiently at the air around them. "Is it kept warm with fire shards, do you know? Or magic?"

"I..." She shakes her head, feeling stupid. "I don't know. I just... I just like to look at the f-flowers."

The girl looks at her then, really looks at her, looking a touch surprised - as though it only just occurred to her that Tajna was there. She blinks. And then she grins, a little dimple appearing at the corner of her lips.

"And so you should," she declares. "They're lovely, aren't they?" And then, heedless of grass stains or mud or even Tajna's flinch, the girl takes herself a seat at the other girl's side, and together they gaze at the flowers in amiable silence.

And just like that - whether she likes it or not - Tajna has a best friend.

[spiderwarden]

Minthara approving and being inspired by the major GOOD acts will never not be funny and ironic to me…

[doberbutts]

I've told this story before but the non-negotiable in allyship really reminded me of my gaming group. So one of my best friends is a twin and while I know *her* pretty well I don't really know her brother as well despite knowing him for roughly same length of time. We play videogames together and her brother asked to join us so at some point I took him aside and had The Talk with him because we at that point had a recently out trans fem within the group and she had just barely started hormones and hadn't done any voice training etc so I fully intended to head any trouble off at the pass.

So I basically had the "respect my friend's pronouns or die by my sword" discussion because while he knows I'm a trans guy and had so far been chill, I didn't know if that extended to all trans people.

What I did not expect was for him to pull an uno reverse on me and invite his two trans woman friends to game with us as well and did a "no no, *you* respect *my* friends' pronouns or die by *my* sword".

When I was working at Petco, one of my coworkers came to me having a total panic and anxiety meltdown and when I finally got them to tell me what was going on, the revealed they had sought me out because they were having Transgender Feelings and wanted advice. I ended up giving them my old binders that were too small for me but a perfect fit for them, and one of my roommates gave them their first masc haircut.

A few weeks later a customer speaking Spanish was saying many nasty things about my coworker and reacting with disgust. Another coworker- a cis gay man who speaks fluent Spanish- came to get me first so I could pull the other coworker away while he effectively cussed them out in Spanish. He told us the sparknotes version of the English translation and it was mostly horrifically transphobic drivel. My coworker had responded mostly neutrally to me being trans, but for him to be visibly steamed the rest of the day over my other coworker definitely bumped my respect for him.

And I've talked about how a cis lesbian friend of mine visibly bristles at anyone she even thinks is being shitty to me about being trans to the point of making them splutter and back down.

A cishet woman I am only sort of acquaintances with once caught me wincing at being she/her'd at a trial and asked if that had been happening all day. When I responded the affirmative, she stormed off and I didn't see her the rest of the day. The next day, any time anyone referred to me there was an audible pause before a deliberate choice to choose masc versions.

Another trans woman who is a friend of mine once beat up a bully for calling her trans boyfriend a heshe when they were in schooling together.

It's about holding the line. It's about making the active choice to show up for each other. And it's about linking hands and refusing to budge.

If you cannot hold the line with me by your side, then we are not moving together.

[plethorawrites]

Image how confused the entire Bat family would be if Jason— touch repulsed, wants to work alone, barely even tolerates them most days— Todd finally gets sucked into one of Bruce's charity events, only to come with a date who he *cannot* keep his hands off. I'm talking, has his arm draped around her waist or over her shoulder whenever they're walking, hugging her from behind with his jaw on top of her hair (carefully though, so he won't mess it up), occasionally randomly kissing the back of her hand, or her cheek, or very quickly her neck before she smacks him away playfully.

And the media LOVES this.

The reporters who usually bother Bruce about his company, Dick about his romantic life, Damian about school, Duke about being recently legally adopted, Cass about her improving speech skills, Tim about recent publicity statements, all suddenly leave them alone to take picture after picture of Jason and whoever his date is. And Jason—has threatened, attempted, and actually punched reporters— Todd doesn't even care. He doesn't bat an eye, (pun intended) because they should take pictures with how gorgeous she looks.

He'd be offended if they didn't.

And when she blushes, getting a bit shy after hearing a few too many clicks, he runs a hand up and down her arm, tearing her away from the buffet to dance. Dance. Yes, Bruce thought he'd lost his mind when he saw his son whisk a beautiful woman into the middle of the room, willingly, even eagerly wrapping his arms around her comfortably and familiarly, while she rests her head against his chest and he rests his cheek against the side of your head, his eyes fluttering shut every once in a while.

Of course, his family tried to get to talk to him, really, they did. Something or someone conveniently got in the way every single time, until the event is over and Jason and his date manage to slip out in the crowd before the family gets to interrogate him about it.

His phone? He has to shut it off from all the calls and texts that overwhelm his inbox. Alfred even sent an email.

When he eventually does pick it up after having it on do not disturb for a while, he simply types in the group chat, "You told me to bring a date." Before putting it face down on the nightstand and rolling over in bed to wrap his arms around her, kissing her temple softly as she sleeps, out of your fancy dress and in his arms, where she belongs.

[foldingfittedsheets]

In honor of my nine year anniversary with my beloved wife please enjoy a story from our third date.

Just gonna reemphasize that. Our third date. We were still very much getting to know each other. We were virtually strangers.

We had been intending to do a meetup at a nerdy cafe with a group of people, but unbeknownst to us there had been a tragedy in the group and everyone else bailed. My beloved and I made the best of it. We had a nice date. I horrified them by eating sliders in three bites but it wasn’t a deal breaker.

Afterward I was driving us back to my place when a car came up and rear ended me. It was a pretty light bump but I was still like, well. That car hit me, time to pull over and exchange info.

Except the other car decided to instead shoot past me and drive away.

Infuriated, I pursued.

From the passenger seat, a captive on a third date with someone else in control of the car and pursuing strangers into the darkness, my beloved said, “Uh, what’s the plan here?”

“They hit me! We need to exchange information!”

Indeed. I did not have a plan. The plan was that when you hit someone with your car you exchanged insurance information. I would pursue until that happened.

The offending car led us a merry chase and as I followed through winding pitch black forest roads I felt the tiniest inkling of misgiving. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea? Pursuing someone into the darkness? But I persisted.

I wasn’t being propelled by a plan or even stubbornness but instead I followed a blazing righteousness. Fundamentally I knew that when you hit someone’s car you talked to them afterward. It was an inexorable fact. They would not escape the talking portion of this event.

When the car pulled into a trailer park I fully realized that this was not, in fact, a good idea. Inside the other car was a couple who were clearly having an argument and it seemed increasingly unlikely that they had insurance info to swap.

With a sigh I said, “Will you pull out your flashlight? Let’s see if my bumper is damaged.”

We got out of the car and inspected my bumper together. It actually looked fine, and I was about to call it when the woman got out. It was instantly clear she was under some chemical influence, her pupils dilated absurdly large. She attempted a poor performance as she said, “Oh, did we hit you?”

“Yeah,” I said flatly, “but I think it’s fine. I don’t see any damage.”

“We weren’t sure, uh, if we did, we didn’t think we did but we just weren’t sure.” She shifted anxiously foot to foot.

It was time to leave, a fact which became clearer when the man stepped out, eyes buzzing in his skull. He feigned innocence and radiated an aura of someone barely tethered to reality. My beloved and I waved them off and got back in my car to drive away.

As we did my beloved let out a huge gust of air as if they’d been holding their breath.

“Are you okay?”

“I was so squared up ready to fight them,” they said. “I’m glad we didn’t.”

I turned to look at them in astonishment. “Why would we have fought?”

“Are you joking? You followed them at 11pm to a trailer park! The second we got out of the car I was in a fighting stance. What did you think would happen?”

“I- I don’t know. That we’d talk and then go home? But. I can see now that driving after a car that tried to do a hit and run may not have been that safe…”

“You think!!!”

We sat in silence for a while before we burst out in relieved laughter.

“You were ready to fight?” I asked.

“I do kung fu! That guy looked so shady, I was ready to kick his ass, but I really didn’t want to.”

Unbelievably, they agreed to more dates, and eventually married me, but more often than not they’re the one driving.

[mwphisto]

It was an accident, you swear it was just a misclick.

Two texts that came in at the same time, one from your group chat with Tara and Simone, the other from Caleb. What you thought was being sent to your girls got sent to Caleb instead...

"What do you think of this?" A picture of you standing in your full length mirror, your bedroom dimly lit, a scandalous little black nightgown hanging off of your body. You never treated yourself like this, never felt the need to buy such short, silky nightgowns covered in frilly lace and a sleek satin shine. But Tara had convinced you.

Something about having a nice figure, just in case of an emergency, and that you'd look soooo hot in such an item. Hell, she even offered to pay for it, hand picking the little thing herself and well... now you owned it and now your face was red-hot as you stared at yourself.

“Holy shit, Pips.” You glance down at your phone, brows furrowing at the use of that nickname. Why in the world would Tara… oh. Oh no. Your mouth dropped open, realizing your fatal mistake way too late.

“Caleb! Oh my god! I’m so sorry!” Rapid fire, your hands trembling as you sent message after message. “I didn’t mean to send that to you! I was just trying it on, my friends convinced me to buy the damn thing!” You fell onto your bed, staring at your phone in genuine horror. Luckily, it was just Caleb. No one else. But still.

"No need to apologize, Pips." the text bubble popped up again a moment later. "You look gorgeous, good thing you listened to them." Now? Your face was hot for a different reason. "These friends are also girls, right? Don't tell me you're sending this to other men..."

"Of course they're girls! Who do you think I am lol." You swallow, fingers still shaking as you typed another message. "I appreciate the compliments but I really am sorry for the jump scare. Just delete the picture from our chat, forget you ever saw it."

Delete it? Forget? You've lost your mind. Still... "No worries, pips."

Caleb clicks the image again, cheeks flushed and pants uncomfortably tight. It's like he's looking at a real life goddess. He's zooming in shamelessly, committing every dip and curve to his memory. The way the lace hugs your breasts, the thin straps revealing you're not wearing bra at all. The nightgown itself ends just below the apex of your thighs. One little movement and...

"You're going to ruin me, pipsqueak." Caleb's fingers are undoing his zipper, eyes still glued to every pixel that makes up your dips and curves on his phone screen. "I should feel guilty, shouldn't I?" His voice is bouncing back at him, you had disappeared from the chat, likely sending your friends the picture that was intended for them.

He's freeing himself from his briefs, yanking open his bedside drawer to pull out one of the pairs of panties he had snatched from your apartment the last time he visited Linkon.

"Such a pervert, can't help it."

[reasonsforhope]

"During an archaeological dig in a desert area north of Jerusalem 40 years ago, a seed was discovered which was determined to be in pristine condition but had obviously seen many a year.

Now, despite falling from its parent 1,000 years ago, it has grown into a mature tree, and botanists examining it believe it may be an extinct species that was used for medicinal purposes for thousands of years—even receiving a nod in the Bible.

Neither Israeli botanists, nor Dr. Sarah Sallon, a physician who founded the Louis L. Borick Natural Medicine Research Center at Hadassah University Medical Center in Jerusalem, could determine what species it was from simply from the seed covering. So they did what nature intended—they planted it.

Using a well-documented technique that saw 2,000-year-old date palm fruit pits germinate, Dr. Sallon soaked the seed in hormones, liquid fertilizer, and water, and then planted it in a pot of sterile seed; then waited.

Despite its genetic code being exposed to environmental stressors for over 1,000 years, the seed sprouted after 5 weeks. The shoot was protected by a caplike feature called an operculum. As the shoot grew, the operculum was shed—leaving something for the team to radiocarbon date. It narrowed down the age of the almost 10-centuries-old seed to between the years 993 an 1202.

Fast forward 14 years and the plant has become a 10-foot-tall tree. Dr. Sallon shared images of the tree, its bark, and its leaves with botanists around the world. One expert suggested it belonged to the genus Commiphora, found across the Arabian Peninsula and parts of Africa. A genetic analysis subsequently revealed this was the case, but a perfect match was lacking.

Pictured: The tree, now 14 years old.

Dr. Sallon and her team thought it was an extinct species known from history as Judean Balsam, but the best way to confirm that suspicion would be to have some aromatic traces similar to the resins of the myrrh tree to which it is related. However, no such fragrant compounds were detected.

Instead, the chemical analysis of the leaves identified a group of phytochemicals known as guggulterols which have been observed in a related species called Commiphora wightii that’s known to possess certain cancer-fighting properties in its resin.

A medicinal balm, the origin of which is not known, is mentioned in multiple historical texts including the Bible as ‘tsori,’ and rather than the fragrant Judean Balsam, it’s this tsori that Dr. Sallon and her team believe they have found.

They must wait until the tree, now 14 years old, produces flower or fruit to know for sure if it’s an extinct species, and if so, how to perhaps keep it alive.

Dr. Louise Colville, senior research leader in seed and stress biology at Royal Botanic Gardens, Kew, in London who wasn’t involved in the research, told CNN that it was a major accomplishment to grow a seed that old and possibly lead to a resurrection of this Biblical botanical.

“What’s surprising in this story is it was just a single seed and to be able to have one chance for that to germinate is extremely lucky,” she said.

“Working in a seed bank, seeing the potential for that extreme longevity gives us hope that banking and storing seeds that some at least will survive for very long periods of time.”"

-via Good News Network, October 8, 2024

--

Note: This is such a good demonstration of why seed banks are so important!! They give us such real and massive hope for deextinction and the revival of endangered species.

[arcticmist0324]

Yesterday I had the realization that back in the early-mid 2010s, I had a pretty huge squish on my marching band section leader who I haven’t seen regularly in a decade and last saw probably 8 years ago. It’s like oh so that’s what was going on.