#gamma-wednesday

[farsight-the-char]

Hulk approves of his gay step-son.

The Incredible Hulk pride-variant.

[carissimipaixao]

Your mission has always been the same. To locate any possible scientific inventions that imply they are capable of interfering with the space-time continuum, to hack through computers and devices of those who search anything remotely related to time machines and who may potentially be setting up a theory of their own. Your orders always come from above, a superior, but not quite the leader of the group. Those who control time control the world — the present, past and future. And, it’s a power which humans are unworthy of.

— nemesis (okabe rintarou)

[thedemoninme141]

The Maiden Of Death Part 2

Summary: You finally needed Wednesday for something and she learns some interesting things about you in exchange and yet she wants to know more.

Part 1

Pairings: Wednesday x Female reader. Wordcount: 5.8K-ish Warnings: Nothing Really? I guess roles reversed by Wednesday getting her feelings hurt just a tiny bit so a little angst?

The walk back from the bus station was a quiet one. Even Enid, who could usually fill any void with her endless chatter, seemed reluctant to speak. She kept glancing at you nervously, as though unsure whether to say something or not. Eugene walked close to her, shielding himself behind her as if you were radiating gamma rays.

You didn’t so much as glance back at the others, walking as if you were alone in the world.

Wednesday lagged behind slightly, her dark eyes fixed on you. Questions churned in her mind, but she knew that asking them outright would show her curiosity. And she would never, under any circumstances, let you know how deeply you intrigued her.

Still, the scene from earlier refused to leave her mind. The way you had dismantled those boys, it wasn’t just violence. It was precision, efficiency, calculated as if you had done this hundreds of times before.

But what stuck out the most was what she didn’t see. You hadn’t conjured any weapons. You hadn’t used whatever strange ability had allowed you to summon a parrying knife in the library.

Why?

The question burned at the edges of her thoughts. She tried to dismiss it at first, reasoning that it was none of her concern. But the more she tried to push it away, the more it consumed her. If you could summon a weapon in an instant, why bother with a bat and a chain? Why risk getting your hands dirty when you didn’t have to?

Without realizing it, she had quickened her pace and was now walking beside you. Your focus was still straight ahead as if you knew Wednesday is going to ask something.

The quiet stretched between you two, until Wednesday broke it.

“Why didn’t you just conjure a weapon?”

The question was direct, delivered with her usual bluntness.

You didn’t respond. You didn’t even glance her way.

Wednesday’s irritation flared. “It would have been faster. Cleaner. More effective.”

Still, you said nothing.

Enid and Eugene exchanged worried glances behind you. They really don't want to be caught between crossfire.

“Are you going to ignore me?” Wednesday pressed.

You finally stopped walking. Turning slightly, you met her gaze with a calmness that bordered on unsettling. For a moment, Wednesday thought you might ignore her again. But then, in a voice devoid of emotion, you said, “I can conjure weapons that I’ve… earned. Weapons that have accepted me. All of them are lethal.”

You didn’t elaborate. You didn’t explain. You simply turned and continued walking, leaving her standing there with more questions than answers.

Wednesday followed in silence, her mind racing. What did you mean by “earned”? And what exactly did a weapon have to do to “accept” someone?

She wanted to push further, to demand an explanation, but she stopped herself. It wasn’t hesitation, she told herself. It was strategy. She would learn the truth eventually, there was no need to rush.

But as she watched you walking ahead, your shoulders relaxed, your posture indifferent, Wednesday couldn’t shake the feeling that you were hiding something. Something deeper. Darker.

You were a puzzle, and Wednesday Addams would solve you.

No one exchanged a word until the four of you reached the main building. You walked away from the group without so much as a glance back. No goodbye, no acknowledgment of the people who had trailed after you all day.

Enid watched you go, a small frown tugging at her lips. “She could’ve at least said bye,” Enid sighed and nudged Wednesday. “C’mon, let’s go. I’m exhausted, and you’ve probably got some brooding to do or whatever.”

They walked in silence back to their shared dorm room. Enid occasionally glanced at Wednesday, her lips twitching as if she wanted to say something but thought better of it.

When they finally reached their room, Enid flopped onto her bed with a dramatic groan.

“I don’t even know where to start,” she said, stretching her arms above her head. “Y/N is just… wow. She’s like… you but not you. Does that make sense?”

Wednesday didn’t respond. She was already at her desk, pulling out a book and flipping it open. But despite her best efforts, the words on the page blurred together, her focus slipping.

“She’s so quiet,” Enid continued, propping herself up on her elbows. “Like, quieter than you, and I didn’t think that was possible."

Wednesday’s fingers tightened around the edge of her book.

“Did you see how she looked at those guys? Like they were… I don’t know, bugs or something. And then wham! Down they went. I mean, I get it, they deserved it, but still.”

“She handled it,” Wednesday said finally, her voice flat.

Enid rolled her eyes. “Yeah, she handled it, but it was… intense. And you don’t think I didn’t notice you staring the whole time."

“I wasn’t staring,” Wednesday snapped, her tone defensive.

Enid smirked, sitting up fully now. “Oh, you were staring. I don’t blame you, though. She’s… interesting. In a creepy, mysterious way. I mean, you two could totally be related or something. Have you asked your parents if you lost a twin or something?"

Wednesday ignored her, her eyes fixed on the pages of her book, though she hadn’t absorbed a single word.

The truth was, Enid wasn’t entirely wrong. You were interesting, irritatingly so. You were like a distorted mirror image of her, similar in some ways but fundamentally different in others. The quiet, the detachment, the sharpness, it all felt too familiar and yet so different.

As the night wore on, Enid sat cross-legged on her bed with her laptop, scrolling through social media and occasionally humming under her breath. Wednesday remained at her desk, engrossed in her book, though her thoughts strayed far from the text.

“Huh,” Enid said suddenly, breaking the silence.

“What?” Wednesday asked without looking up.

“Of course Y/N doesn’t have anything social. Can’t find her anywhere.” Enid frowned at her screen, scrolling furiously. “No Instagram, no Snapchat. It’s like she doesn’t exist. Does she even have a phone?”

“Maybe she doesn't want to be a slave to modern technology either,” Wednesday said coolly, though the revelation piqued her interest. "And why are you so concerned with finding her online?”

“Why are you so concerned with finding her online?” “Because I wanted to write a blog post about her!!!” Enid said, her eyes wide with excitement. “And, don’t you want to know more about her? Where she’s from? Why she’s here? What her deal is?”

Of course Wednesday wanted to know. She just wasn’t about to admit that to Enid.

Instead, she closed her book with a deliberate snap and said, “If she wanted us to know, she would have told us.”

“Or maybe she’s waiting for someone to ask her,” Enid countered.

Wednesday didn’t reply. For a moment, she let herself imagine what it would be like to ask you. How she would ask you. The thought annoyed her. She wasn’t supposed to care about such things. And yet, here she was, her mind tangled up in questions about you, questions she didn’t know how to ask, questions she wasn’t even sure you’d answer.

The calculated knocks startled neither of them, it was gentle but deliberate, three slow raps against the wood. Enid glanced up first. “Uh, I'll go get it.”

She hopped up and padded to the door, opening it cautiously. Her eyes widened when she saw you standing there, hands tucked into the pockets of your black hoodie.

“Is she here?” you asked.

Enid blinked, clearly surprised, before nodding and stepping aside, opening the door wider. Wednesday finally turned in her seat, and there you stood… you didn’t step in.

Wednesday’s dark eyes narrowed, reading your body language in an instant. You wanted to speak to her, but not here, not with Enid present. She closed her book before standing and as she passed Enid, she motioned with a small, firm gesture for her roommate to stay inside and close the door.

She stepped out into the hall, brushing past you with just enough space to show her own sense of control. You didn’t flinch. You didn’t even seem fazed as Enid let out a defeated sigh and shut the door behind them.

The hall was empty, silent. You didn’t waste time. “There’s another library in Nevermore.” It wasn’t a question. “Where is it?”

The Nightshade Library. Hidden deep within Nevermore, its entrance disguised behind one of the worst puzzles she has ever solved, "Snap twice", Couldn't they make it a bit more challenging?

“Why do you think I would know where it is?” she asked, her tone carefully neutral.

You tilted your head slightly, as if evaluating her. “Because if anyone knows, it’s you.”

The faintest flicker of satisfaction crossed Wednesday’s face. She liked being recognized for her intellect, especially by you.... wait what?

“And if I did know?” she countered. “Why would I share that information with you?”

You didn’t answer immediately. Instead, you leaned against the wall, your dark eyes meeting hers with an intensity that made her feel, for the first time in a long while, as if someone were looking through her rather than at her.

“What do you want?” you asked finally, your voice low and measured.

Wednesday hesitated. She could deny her curiosity, feign disinterest, but she knew you would see through it. So she decided on honesty, or at least a version of it.

“I’ve solved enough mysteries to recognize one when I see it,” she said, her tone steady. “And you, Y/n, are a mystery. You’re here for something. At first, I suspected it was something sinister, but…” Her lips twitched ever so slightly, not quite a smile. “Your actions at the shop earlier today disproved that theory. Not that I’m impressed or anything.”

For a moment, there was silence. Then, to Wednesday’s surprise, your lips curved into a faint smirk.

“One good deed doesn’t fix a thousand sins, Wednesday,” you said.

It was the first time she had seen you smirk, and something about it unsettled her. It wasn’t the smirk itself, it was the fact that it felt… earned. As if it was meant for her and her alone.

And it lingered only for a sceond before fading.

“I’ll make you a deal,” you said. “I’ll tell you about me. Not everything, but enough to satisfy your curiosity. How much depends on how much you help me get what I need.”

Wednesday’s brows knitted together, her mind working rapidly to process your words. This was a gamble, a game of secrets and trust or lack thereof. And yet, she found herself intrigued.

“Very well,” she said finally. “But don’t think for a moment that I’ll be satisfied with scraps. If I’m helping you, I’ll expect substance, not crumbs.”

You didn’t respond, but something in your gaze shifted, a silent acknowledgment of her terms. Without another word, you turned and began walking down the hall.

Wednesday followed, her steps light and deliberate, her mind churning with questions. What were you looking for in the Nightshade Library? Why were you so guarded? And why... why did she feel something seeing your smirk?

The statue of Edgar Allan Poe was just ahead as the two of you stopped.

Wednesday stepped forward, she glanced at you, her dark eyes daring you to comment. You remained expressionless, giving her nothing, as always.

She snapped her fingers twice.

The faint clicking of mechanisms echoed, and the statue shifted. Its heavy base slid back, revealing a dark staircase spiraling downward.

Neither of you spoke as you made your way down the stairs.

Once at the center of the library, Wednesday turned to face you. “What are you looking for?”

“That’s not part of the deal.” You said as your eyes were scanning the shelves, skipping over rows of books as though you instinctively knew what you sought. She internally sighed for even offering to help.

It didn’t take long. Your gaze landed on a dusty, leather-bound tome nestled deep in the recesses of a high shelf. The book was thick and worn, and it was tightly bound by some sort of green metallic wires. It was dusty, untouched for ages like most of the books here.

As you reached for it, Wednesday approached, her curiosity clearly piqued. She peered over your shoulder as you pulled the book free, revealing its cracked and worn leather cover etched with strange, arcane symbols. You carried it to a nearby table and set it down carefully, your fingers brushing away the layers of dust.

“What is it?” she asked, her voice quieter now.

Before you could answer or more likely refuse to answer, a faint sound from behind you drew your attention.

Without hesitation, you conjured a katana in one fluid motion. You spun on your heel, the blade slicing through the air, and lunged.

The blade sang through the air as you moved with precision, grabbing the intruder and shoving him against the bookshelves. Xavier’s mask clattered to the ground as he struggled against your grip, your blade pressed firmly against his throat.

“Wait, wait, wait! Stop! Whoa! Whoa!” Xavier stammered, his wide eyes darting between the blade and your impassive face.

Wednesday smirked, crossing her arms as she observed the scene. “You shouldn’t have stopped,” she mocked dryly. “Xavier could use an upgrade. He might finally get the touch he needs so much! Getting rid of his face.”

Xavier shot her a panicked glance. “Not helping, Wednesday!”

One by one, they all came out, the members of nightshade society—Bianca, Ajax, Yoko, Kent and Divina.

“You can’t just bring whoever you want down here,” Bianca snapped. “This place is supposed to be a secret.”

Wednesday rolled her eyes, her smirk deepening. “Clearly, it’s not much of a secret if you’re the ones guarding it.”

Bianca shot her a warning look before turning her gaze to you. “You don’t belong here,” Bianca said, her voice cold. “And in case you didn’t know, Ajax can stone you, and Yoko is faster than you’ll ever be. So I’d think twice before trying anything.”

You didn’t even flinch. Instead, you tilted your head slightly and replied in an even, calm tone, “Do you want to try?”

The group exchanged uncertain glances. Wednesday noted the faint flicker of fear in their eyes, a reaction she found... satisfying.

Yoko stepped forward, chuckling softly. “I’m not faster than you. Don’t mind Bianca; she’s still feisty from getting beaten by you in fencing.” She shot a playful look at Bianca, who scowled in response. Yoko’s grin awkwardly widened as she pulled Bianca back, making way for you.

“By the way,” Yoko added, glancing at Xavier, who was still pinned to the bookshelf, “can I make a tiny request? Not really important, but maybe let go of him before he has a heart attack?”

Your gaze shifted to Xavier, the look in your eyes promising, If you try that again, I won’t stop my sword next time. Slowly, you pulled the blade back as it vanished into the air as you unconjured it.

Without sparing another glance at the group, you reached for the book, tucking it under your arm as you turned to leave.

Wednesday followed, pausing only to glance over her shoulder at the stunned group. “I’d say it was nice catching up, but I’d be lying.”

You didn’t speak as Wednesday walked behind you. She didn’t expect you to. But the weight of unanswered questions was pressing on her. Finally, she broke it.

“What’s in the book?” she asked,

“Information,” you replied simply.

She frowned slightly, pressing further. “Information about what?”

“Not me.”

The two words were curt, but their meaning was clear. Wednesday’s mind immediately clicked back to the terms of your deal. She had taken you to the Nightshade Library, and in return, you had promised to answer her questions about yourself. But this book wasn’t part of that exchange. It was something else entirely.

“Fine,” Wednesday said “Now it’s my part of the deal. I ask you questions about yourself, and you answer truthfully. Do not attempt to lie. I can tell the difference.”

Finally, you stopped and turned. There was something unreadable in your expression—calm, detached, as always, but then it shifted. Slowly, deliberately, your lips curled into the faintest smirk. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but Wednesday caught it.

That smirk.

She hadn’t seen any emotion on your face Enid had tried to engage you, when the Nightshade Society had surrounded you with suspicion and hostility. She had only seen it when it was only you and her, it was there, just for her.

It was... unsettling.

Before Wednesday could dwell on it, your voice pulled her from her thoughts. “Ask your questions and be done with it.”

Wednesday’s fingers twitched behind her back as her mind raced through the countless questions she wanted to ask. But she knew she had to start somewhere.

“Why are you really here?”

You raised an eyebrow.

"What did you do at your last school to get transferred here, or did you come willingly?” she elaborated.

“I came willingly,” you said without hesitation, your voice calm, as if the answer was obvious.

“Why?” she pressed.

“I had work.”

“Work?”

“Demon hunting.”

It was so matter-of-fact, so devoid of emotion, that Wednesday was momentarily speechless. She blinked, half-expecting that smirk to return, telling her it was sarcasm. But you didn’t. Your face remained neutral, your posture relaxed yet guarded, as if you had just told her something as mundane as the weather forecast.

“What… what does that mean?��� she asked, her voice quieter but no less intense.

“It means exactly what it sounds like,” you said evenly. “I get hired to hunt demons. My father trained me.”

The words landed with an almost tangible weight. Wednesday prided herself on her composure, but even she found it difficult to mask the intrigue and unease bubbling inside her.

Her mind raced. Demon hunting? It sounded absurdly dangerous, but the calmness with which you spoke of it suggested otherwise. Still, she found herself grappling with the idea of someone her age taking on such a task.

“How old are you?” she blurted before she could stop herself. She instantly hated how curious she sounded, but the question lingered nonetheless.

You rolled your eyes, the closest thing to irritation she’d seen from you. “I age normally. I’m your age.”

It was such a simple answer, but it left her with more questions than before. Why would someone your age be hunting demons? Why would your father send you to Nevermore now? And more importantly, why did you move through the world with such deadly precision, like you were always preparing for the next fight?

“Why do you hunt demons?” she asked, her voice softer now, almost hesitant.

You didn’t answer immediately. For a moment, you simply looked at her, your expression unreadable. Then, finally, you said, “I think the questions you’ve asked are enough payment for your assistance.”

It wasn’t a refusal, but it was a wall, just like the one's she has built around herself. You weren’t going to answer. Not now. And yet, the way you avoided the question only made her more determined to uncover the truth. Wednesday wasn’t used to being denied, and she found the challenge you presented both infuriating and... intriguing.

She followed you silently as you began walking again, her gaze flicking to the book in your hands.

“Demons,” she finally said, her voice slicing through the quiet. “What are they exactly? Giant monsters? Beasts with claws and fangs? Creatures of folktales?”

You didn’t answer as if her words had evaporated into the night air.

The lack of response was infuriating and Wednesday wasn’t even surprised. She had expected resistance. Still, she persisted. “You claim to hunt them. Surely you can describe what it is you face. Or do you find it amusing to leave me in ignorance?”

Again, you didn’t respond, and Wednesday’s jaw tightened. Her dark eyes flicked to the book you held, its worn cover and metallic bindings catching the faint light. Now the book intrigued her just as much as you did.

Her mind raced with possibilities. She couldn’t simply take the book from you; you would sense her intent before she could act.

Dispatching Thing to steal it was out of the question as well. She could already envision the outcome: you sensing Thing’s presence, catching him mid-act, and possibly doing something drastic. The way you had nearly sliced Xavier’s throat in the blink of an eye without any hesitation just for sneaking up on you... No, she couldn’t risk Thing. She would need another way to learn more.

Her voice cut through the silence again. “Your swordsmanship, was that something your father taught you?”

This time, you slowed your steps, just enough for her to notice. For a fleeting moment, something flickered in your eyes, an emotion she couldn’t quite place.

“No,” you said simply. “I figured that out.”

Wednesday’s brows knitted together in disbelief. “You figured that out?” she repeated, her tone laced with skepticism. “No one simply ‘figures out’ swordsmanship. It takes years of training, discipline—”

You interrupted her “I figured it out,” you repeated, leaving no room for argument.

Frustration simmered beneath Wednesday’s composed exterior. Your cryptic responses were as infuriating as they were intriguing. She couldn’t fathom how someone could master a skill like that without instruction. But then, nothing about you followed conventional logic.

The two of you reached the steps to Ophelia Hall, for a moment, it seemed the conversation was over, but Wednesday’s curiosity refused to let her remain silent.

When the hallway to her dorm came into view, her frustration boiled into something she rarely allowed herself to feel: desperation. You had what you wanted now. There was no more reason for you to seek her out, no leverage she could use to force you into another exchange.

This was it.

For the first time, Wednesday Addams felt the sting of helplessness. And she hated it.

As you turned to leave, something in her snapped. “Wait.”

You paused, glancing over your shoulder. “What?”

Her mind scrambled for something, anything to keep the conversation from ending. The words tumbled out before she could stop them. “Show me.”

“Show you what?”

“The way you beat me,” she clarified, her tone sharpening as if to mask the vulnerability behind her request. “During our last fencing match.”

You turned fully now, facing her.

She continued, her voice cool and measured. “I know how to handle a rapier. I’ve studied various forms of swordsmanship. But the technique you used—it's unlike anything I’ve seen. It could prove… useful.”

“Useful?” you repeated, your tone neutral but tinged with curiosity

Wednesday hesitated for a fraction of a second, but she quickly masked it coming up with something. “Yes. I’ve been meaning to put Bianca in her place again. Your technique might be just the thing to humiliate her properly.”

“And what makes you think I’d teach you?”

She rolled her eyes as her tone sharpened. “It’s not a matter of ‘teaching.’ You wouldn’t need to explain. I can observe. All I need is for you to demonstrate. You seem to enjoy a challenge. Consider this one.”

You tilted your head slightly, studying her. The faintest smirk tugged at the corner of your lips, and Wednesday felt her irritation flare. That expression again. She hated how it made her feel—off-balance, as though you were the one dissecting her.

“I’ll think about it,” you said at last.

Wednesday’s eyes narrowed. “That wasn’t an answer.”

“It’s the only one you’re getting right now,” you replied.

You turned without another word, continuing down the hall toward your dorm. Wednesday remained rooted to the spot. Her thoughts spiraled, replaying every word, every glance, every flicker of emotion you had allowed her... only her to see.

She had what she wanted, another thread to pull, another opportunity to uncover more about you. But even as she told herself it was all for the sake of satisfying her curiosity, a nagging voice in the back of her mind whispered otherwise.

She ignored it. Or at least, she tried to.

When Wednesday stepped into her room, Enid bolted upright in her bed,

“Wednesday! Oh my god, you’re finally back!” Enid whisper-yelled, her voice a mix of relief and exasperation. She clutched her phone like it was her emotional support animal.

“I was so scared you were out there doing something... you know... Wednesday-ish. And with Y/N? Are you kidding me? I thought for sure I was gonna get a text saying you’d been arrested. What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking,” Wednesday finally replied, “that I do not require your approval or your concern.”

Enid huffed, crossing her arms over her pink top, “Well, someone has to worry about you because you clearly don’t!” She paused, “Anyway... how was the date?”

Wednesday froze mid-step as she turned to face Enid. “Excuse me?”

“The date,” Enid said, emphasizing the word with a mischievous grin. “You know, you and Y/N, sneaking off together into the night, exchanging cryptic looks and intense vibes. Classic romance. Sooo... how did it go?”

Wednesday glared at her, the look sharp enough to cut glass. “It wasn’t a date, Enid. It was an interrogation. One that, I might add, yielded frustratingly little information.”

Enid flopped back onto her bed dramatically, groaning. “Ugh, you’re no fun. How can it not be a date? I mean, the two of you are so...” She gestured vaguely, her hands mimicking some kind of explosion. “...tension-y.”

“Tension-y is not a word,” Wednesday deadpanned, moving toward her wardrobe to retrieve her nightclothes. She disappeared behind the changing screen, her voice carrying through. “And whatever you imagine my interactions with Y/N to be, I assure you, they are nothing of the sort. It was just an exchange of information, nothing more.”

“You’re no fun. Fine, it wasn’t a date. But you can’t deny there’s something going on between you two. Totally intense. And you-”

“Enough, Enid,” Wednesday cut her off, climbing into bed. “If you insist on fantasizing about my personal life, at least do so silently. I require rest.”

Enid rolled her eyes but smiled. “Fine, fine. Goodnight, Wens. Sweet dreams of a certain someone.”

Wednesday groaned internally as she closed her eyes, letting the darkness of sleep swallow her. But even as her mind began to drift, she couldn’t help but replay your last words to her: “I’ll think about it.”

Wednesday’s gaze flicked over the students passing by. You should be here, she thought, where are you?

“You’re weirdly quiet this morning,” Enid noted, glancing at Wednesday as they approached their table with breakfast “Not that you’re usually a chatterbox, but still.”

“I was reflecting on the peaceful silence I enjoyed before you began speaking,” Wednesday replied dryly.

Enid rolled her eyes but let it slide. The two of them sat down, Enid immediately reaching for the stack of waffles in front of her.

“So,” Enid began between bites " I was thinking-"

"Truly a groundbreaking moment in history." Wednesday muttered.

“Ha ha,” Enid said sarcastically. “As I was saying, the Poe Cup is coming up, and we need to form a team.”

Wednesday sipped her coffee, unimpressed. “You mean, you need to form a team. I’m not interested.”

“Oh, come on!” Enid said, pouting. “Last year was so much fun, and we actually won! Don’t you want to keep the streak alive?”

“No.”

“Please? Pretty please?” Enid got out her puppy eyes.

Wednesday sighed, setting her cup down with more force than necessary. “Why don’t you find someone else? I have better things to do.”

“Well,” Enid said, fidgeting with her fork, “that’s the thing. One of the girls on our team transferred out after all the drama last year. So... we’re already down a person even if you join.”

“Tragic,” Wednesday said dryly.

"And everyone seems too afraid to participate, no one seems to come up... So I was actually thinking about asking Y/N to join too.”

Wednesday froze. Slowly, she turned to face Enid, her eyes narrowing. “You were planning to ask her?”

“Yeah,” Enid said brightly, oblivious to Wednesday’s sudden tension. “I mean, if she says yes, you and her in the same team? We will have the most unstoppable team in Nevermore history. And if she says no... well, I’ll just have to work extra hard to convince her.”

Wednesday didn’t respond, her mind preoccupied with conflicting thoughts. On the one hand, she had no desire to participate in another Poe Cup. On the other, the idea of you aligning with Enid’s cheerful chaos—and possibly bonding with her—left an unpleasant taste in her mouth.

Finally, Enid broke the silence. “So? Are you in?”

She let out a tired sigh. “Fine. I’ll join your team. But only because your incessant whining is insufferable.”

Enid beamed, clapping her hands together. “Yes! You won’t regret it, Wens. We’re going to crush everyone. And when Y/N joins, it’ll be game over for the competition.”

Wednesday didn’t share Enid’s enthusiasm, but she couldn’t deny a flicker of curiosity. If you agreed to join the team, it would be yet another opportunity to observe you up close, to understand what makes you- you.

“Ready to lose, Addams?” Bianca asked, adjusting her grip.

“I don’t lose. I simply assess flaws in my opponents’ technique until they defeat themselves.”  Wednesday replied, stepping into position.

Strike, parry, lunge—her movements were precise, calculated, and relentless. But even as she focused on the match, her thoughts were elsewhere.

Where are you?

You weren't at breakfast, You hadn’t appeared for fencing class. She told herself it was curiosity, maybe her need for a rematch, nothing more. But the faint pang of disappointment at not seeing you was a feeling she couldn’t entirely suppress.

Bianca’s blade grazed Wednesday’s shoulder, snapping her attention back to the match.

“Distracted today, Addams?” Bianca taunted, taking the advantage to press forward.

Wednesday’s eyes narrowed. She wouldn’t allow anyone, least of all Bianca, to expose a moment of weakness. With a swift disengage and a perfectly timed riposte, she scored a touch on Bianca’s chest, earning a point.

“Hardly,” Wednesday replied, her voice icy.

The match ended in her victory, as expected, but it felt hollow. Even as she returned her rapier to its rack and packed away her gear, her mind kept circling back to you.

Alchemy class had started precisely ten minutes ago. Wednesday sat at her station, her notebook open and pen poised, ready to absorb whatever instruction was given. Despite her usual attentiveness, her gaze kept flicking to the door.

It wasn’t until the teacher began explaining the chemical interactions of reagents in transmutation circles then you finally entered.

You walked in as if you owned the room. No apology, no explanation. Your footsteps were measured, calm, as though arriving late was entirely intentional. The other students turned to look, whispering to one another, but you ignored them all. And took the empty seat beside Wednesday.

She waited for you to offer some explanation, but none came.

Finally, she leaned slightly toward you, her voice low enough not to attract attention. “Where were you?”

Without even looking at her, you replied, “I don’t think that’s any of your concern.”

The curt dismissal sent a flicker of irritation through her. She narrowed her eyes, studying your profile.

“Interesting,” Wednesday said, her tone flat but with a razor’s edge. “Your penchant for evasion is almost as impressive as your talent for making enemies.”

“I didn’t realize I was supposed to inform you of my every move. Should I start providing hourly updates?”

“I wouldn’t have asked if it weren’t relevant,” Wednesday countered.

"I fail to see how my schedule has any bearing on your life.” you replied, turning your attention to the potion ingredients laid out in front of you.

Wednesday’s fingers tightened around her pen.

After last night, she had thought they had... progressed, in some way. Not to friendship, she didn’t entertain such trivialities, but to something more than this cold indifference.

Evidently, she was wrong.

She turned her attention back to the professor, though her thoughts remained stubbornly fixed on you.

When class ended, Wednesday packed her things with more force than necessary. You, as usual, seemed unbothered, moving at your own unhurried pace.

She considered leaving without a word, but the thought of you dismissing her again was unbearable.

As the two of you exited the classroom, she matched your stride.

She didn’t speak immediately, her mind grappling with the questions swirling in her head.

Finally, she broke the silence. “About last night.”

“What about it?” you asked, not looking at her.

“I thought we had reached some… understanding,” she said, her tone carefully neutral.

You finally turned to look at her, your eyes sharp and unyielding. “I told you what I’d tell you. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Her jaw tightened. “And the demonstration you promised?”

“I didn’t promise anything,” you said evenly. “I said I’d think about it.”

“And?” she pressed.

“I haven’t had time to think about it,” you replied, your tone dismissive.

“You seemed to have plenty of time last night.” she said.

Your lips quirked slightly, not quite a smirk but close. “You think too highly of yourself if you believe I’ve spent the entire night pondering your request. And now that I do think about it, I don’t see why it matters. You’re not worth wasting my time.”

The words struck Wednesday harder than she expected. She kept her face impassive, but inside, a strange, unfamiliar ache bloomed. Her jaw tightened, her fists clenching at her sides. She hated the way her chest ached, hated the vulnerability that threatened to surface.

But she would never let you see it.

“I see,” Wednesday said finally, her voice icy. “Then perhaps I shouldn’t waste any more of your valuable time.” Without waiting for a response, she quickened her pace, leaving you behind. Behind her, your steps slowed, and she resisted the urge to look back.

Botany class passed in a blur for Wednesday. The usually calming task of handling deadly poisonous plants gave no solace. Her mind churned with your words, replaying them over and over. She hated how much they stung, hated the power you seemed to wield over her thoughts.

And yet, when class ended, you approached her.

“Meet me behind the greenhouse,” you said, your voice low and deliberate. “After the sun falls.”

Before she could respond, you turned and walked away. She hated how you left her with more questions than answers. But despite herself, she knew she would meet you.

[A/n: Tried another new route, in most fics I see that it is the reader character who earns Wednesday's smile, so I thought I should reverse the roles a bit, how did you guys like this one? Gonna entirely focus on Her Heartbeat now so next chapter will take some time.]

Taglist: @rqizzu @sevyscoven @kingoftheracoons @masterofpuppets-10 @alexkolax

[dottores]

HELIOTROPES

pairing: dottore x fem!reader & segments

summary: the gods were sick and twisted. for five hundred years, he believed he was fated to be alone. he had long accepted it—embraced it, even. that is, until a midwinter night when that elusive red thread finally appeared on his finger. but as much as he wants to ignore it, the pull of a soulmate simply cannot be ignored.

genre: soulmate au, canon compliant for the most part.

warnings: fem!reader, worldbuilding for snezhnaya & fatui & fontaine, theta hurts reader but only a little, this was not edited sorry for mistakes 😭

notes: alrighty guys, this is officially the last chapter of the regular schedule—after this one, updates are going to be sporadic but they will at the very least be monthly. wish i could keep up the schedule but its not going to be feasible considering i start law school this upcoming wednesday </3 i'll update the masterlist to reflect the change too

SPIT IN MY FACE

“Excuse me?”

The masked man—had Gamma called him Theta?—kept a tight grip on your wrist, holding it up in front of you so he could look at it himself. He was stronger than he looked, you tried to rip your wrist out of his hold but failed. His nails dug into your skin in response to the attempt, drawing blood. You grimaced as you watched a thin line of red seep down your forearm. 

“You heard me.” Theta’s smile didn’t budge as his other hand came up to grab your chin, turning your head away from where Kappa was still buried in the crook of your neck to face him. “Was he trying to keep you hidden away or were you trying to hide from us?”

He wasn’t looking at your hand. He was looking at your finger or more specifically… where your thread was hanging from it, leading off somewhere to the left of you wherever Dottore was. You remembered how Kappa had looked down at your hand curiously before deciding to come over to you, the way he was so at ease with you for no reason. And Gamma. Gamma had looked at your hand before he started panicking and ran off.

Could they… see it?

“Hm?” Theta’s nails dug into your cheeks now, just like how he had with the aristocrat—you didn’t even know where they went, if they had taken the opportunity to flee or if he had done something to immobilize them, you couldn’t turn your head to check. You grimaced as you felt his nails break skin again. “Answer me.”

How was that possible?

You could all but taste the poison in his words, the impatience and the frustration. You were at a loss as to how to proceed—your arms were tied up with Kappa, one of your hands was stuck in his and he was forcing you to look at him, and that unhinged look in his red eyes was causing your brain to fog with fear.

Think. You had to think. You had to free your wrist from his hand. You had to get back to your room, or to Pantalone’s. 

Where was Pantalone? Livid, you realized that the man was probably still listening in on the show, not getting involved, leaving you to deal with this unstable bastard. 

Think. What did he want to hear? What would make him settle down at least enough to loosen his grip on you?

But how the hell were you supposed to know what he wanted you to hear? Even with just the way he spat out those two questions, you knew both answers were wrong and would set him off more. But you had to say something, the longer you went without answering his question, the more his eyes flamed with impatience—you didn’t want to know what would happen when that thin thread of patience snapped.

“I came here, didn’t I?” you asked quietly. You tried to relax your shoulders and upper body, exuding a type of faux-comfort with the man. “I came looking for you.”

Theta’s red eyes narrowed with suspicion, watching you carefully—his grip did not waver, much to your distress. 

“You don’t even know who I am,” he said coldly, speaking the one truth you’d hoped he wouldn’t. His grip on your wrist tightened and his nails dug deeper into your cheeks. “I hate liars.”

“I’m not lying,” you told him, grimacing as his nail dragged against your skin. Kappa shifted in your arms, bristling, you couldn’t tell if he was watching or not. “You can see the thread, no? I may not fully understand how you can see it but the fact that you can speaks enough.”

Theta hesitated, the corner of his lip dipping in doubt as he tried to decide whether or not he thought you were lying. You watched with bated breath, tongue kissing the inside of your teeth, as a flurry of emotions rushed through his eyes ranging from anger to hesitancy and hope. Then his eyes hardened, decision made, and your heart sunk to your stomach.

“Liar.”

Again, his grip tightened but it was painful now and your body begged you to pull away or do something but he was stronger than you. He forced you closer to him, turning you so that if Kappa wasn’t between you, you would’ve been chest-to-chest with him. You wondered if you should let him go, let him flee somewhere safe, but he was still clutching your shirt.

Theta leaned in close, you could feel his breath hot against your cheek and the cool ceramic of his mask nudging against your skin where his nose would have been. You grit your teeth together as you felt something warm and wet press against the skin of your cheek where his nails had broken through, lapping at the blood.

Your face felt hot, anger and humiliation curdling your blood as Theta let out a puff of amused laughter against your skin.

“You taste like a liar too,” Theta crooned. “Lambda thinks you’re a fake sent to distract us. Are you a fake, little liar?”

Us. He kept saying us but you don’t know what that meant or how it was possible—they could see the thread but as far as you could tell, they did not have a connecting one. You had never seen anything like that before, nor had you ever read about anything like that. 

You thought you should say something but your mind was reeling as you tried to piece together the puzzle and figure out what was going on.

But before you could do or say anything, Kappa squirmed and twisted in your arms, hanging over you to whack his small fist hard against Theta’s mask—with more strength than you expected from the boy. 

Theta grunted stumbling back—he wasn’t hurt but the force of Kappa’s swing had partially knocked his mask off, revealing thick scars similar to the ones you had seen on Gamma. He fumbled trying to straighten out the mask and as he did, you whirled around to rush to your room.

You didn’t get far. 

Not because of Theta, who was cursing as he fastened the mask back on, but because you slammed right into someone else’s chest, broad and dressed in dark clothes. You glanced up as a pair of gloved hands grabbed your waist, irritation rising at Pantalone’s thin, close-eyed smile. You wondered if you had passed or failed whatever test he expected from this situation. 

The pads of his fingers pressed into your waist as he shifted you over to the side and behind him, leveling his attention on Theta as the man straightened back, narrowed eyes still trained on you instead of the Harbinger. 

“Theta.” Venom dripped from Pantalone’s words as he spoke his name. “I suggest you make your way back to the Doctor’s labs instead of bothering my guest.”

“Your?” Theta spat out, taking a step forward. His eyes were wild again now, far gone from the hardened look he had directed toward you after he made his decision. You stiffened, watching as Pantalone lifted his chin, raising his eyebrows, challenging Theta. “She is not your anything, banker. Go back to counting your coins and sucking noble cock to get further in the world, stay out of our business.”

Pantalone, to his credit, did not look bothered by the dig—the only sign of anger was the way his lip twitched before he spoke: “Take it up with your maker, fraud. You have no authority here, you are not the Doctor.”

“I am-” 

Sharp and loud, Theta’s voice rang up and down the hall as he took two long steps forward as if to attack Pantalone but the Harbinger only let out a huff of amusement as he cut Theta off mid-shout.

“I am not one of the subordinates who you can fool into believing you are him. You are a rabid dog running a thin line between life and death. It is only a matter of time before you’re put down, I again suggest you leave before I make that day come sooner.” 

You thought that you shouldn’t feel anything for the man standing a few paces away but something deep in you clenched when Theta drew back as if he’d been physically slapped, red eyes wide with shock. The feeling did not last long though because as quick as the hurt appeared, it was gone, twisting into something far more sinister as a wide smile spread across his lips, teeth bared much like the rabid dog Pantalone claimed him to be. 

“You think you can kill me?” 

Something manic stained his words, deranged and challenging as if he meant for Pantalone to back his words right then and there. Theta did not have a vision, not one that you could see or feel at least, but you knew in your bones that he was far, far more dangerous than he looked—he was strong and he moved faster than any visionless human you’d ever seen. Briefly, you wondered if he even was hu-

Pantalone stepped forward and the air around the four of you crackled with an energy that made your skin crawl. You let out a shaky breath, eyes widening as you took a step away from the man, unconsciously trying to get away from the source of the energy, an unnatural and uncomfortable feeling spreading through you. 

What is that? 

It felt sick. Corrupted. The air tasted stale and rotted as it seeped down the halls like poison. Your vision was reacting in response to it, the purity of the hydro energy trying to repel the new, malefic energy but it was curling all around you, trying to find chinks in the thin shield your vision was providing you from the decay. 

You had to get away from it but your feet were rooted to the ground, watching the scene play out before you. Neither Theta nor Pantalone looked bothered by the energy—in fact, Theta looked thrilled, eyes alight as his impossibly wide smile widened even more, a giggle slipping from his lips as he raised his hand as if to summon something, but before he could snap his fingers, his eyes dulled and his knees hit the ground hard. Almost like he had been turned off, just like that.

What-

At once, the energy around Pantalone dissipated and you could move, confusion riddling your mind as you tried to figure out what happened to Theta and what that disgusting energy was. You took a step forward, eyes wide and trained on Theta first—was that Pantalone’s doing? But as you turned to look at him, your gaze caught sight of a figure down the hall. 

Dottore. 

You were bleeding. 

Dottore could feel his cheeks stinging but he hadn’t been sure what it was until he got to the hall in Pantalone’s wing where Gamma had left you. Theta was on the ground, empty-eyed and still, turned off courtesy of Dottore, and Pantalone was standing to the side of you, seemingly unimpressed by the whole situation. 

But you were looking at him, and only him, and he could only focus on you, eyes tracing the blood as it dripped down your cheeks to your neck, dribbling down your skin. With creased brows and lips pressed together tightly, he couldn’t tell if the look you were directing toward him was suspicion or anger or something else entirely. The only thing he could feel from you was what he assumed were the remnants of the confrontation with Theta: fear, anxiety, skepticism, confusion, disgust. 

Disgust, was that directed toward him or Theta or both of them? It didn’t sit well with him. He wondered how much Theta had told you, and he wondered how much you’d been able to piece together from what he had. Dottore had been hoping to keep the existence of the segments a secret from you. 

The last thing he wanted to have to do was get into depth about what they were because if he knew you even half as well as he thought he did, he knew it would turn into an interrogation of all that he’d been up to with his research. Even when you were young, when the third phase of the bond had first manifested, he had to be careful about what he was thinking about so that it wasn’t transcribed to you. Countless times he received words from you that could have only been originally given by him: the names of the segments, residue, deactivate, and Dottore knew that you must be taking every word he sent you to relentlessly research into them. 

“Doctor,” Pantalone finally drawled as Dottore came to a stop in front of them, forcing his attention away from you just for a second. “It’s about time that you’ve leashed your mad dog, I’m quite tired of dealing with him.”

Dottore didn’t acknowledge his words. Instead, he focused his attention back onto you—the only apparent wounds were the deep scratch marks on your cheek and wrist, painful but mostly superficial. It would heal in a few days at most, he would pass along an ointment to Pantalone so he could give it to you to speed along the healing process. 

The issue for Dottore laid in the boy tucked neatly in your arms, hiding his face against your skin.

The Kappa segment. 

Dottore exhaled. That would be trouble trying to handle. The Kappa segment was skittish and nervous. He usually only stuck around Epsilon, Iota or Gamma, he even tried to avoid the other segments if he could. Dottore had a feeling that it was because they reminded him of their father but he couldn’t be sure. 

Either way, he had never latched onto someone like this before and Dottore had a feeling it would be an issue trying to get him away from you. He didn’t like shutting down the younger segments—or any of the segments for that matter because it tended to mess with their wiring—but he thought he might have to in order to get the kid back to the estate without alerting the entire palace to your presence and relationship to him. 

His eyes lingered on you, only for a few more moments, watching the way you held Kappa close, arms wrapped around him tightly as if to shield him from danger. Kappa seemed like he was on the verge of dozing off, his shoulders rising and falling steadily—he’d never seen him so comfortable with someone that wasn’t Epsilon before. Something unfamiliar tightened his chest. Longing? Desire? Whatever it was, he didn’t like it. 

He looked away sharply, finally turning his attention to Pantalone. 

“Regrator, don’t act as if you spend all of your free time reluctantly handling my segments. You are usually asking for them, in fact,” Dottore said dryly. He barely spared you another look as he said: “I’ll handle this. Go back to your room and rest.”

Your face twisted and Dottore bit back a sigh, realizing that round three of his war of words with you was about to begin.

“I am not a child,” you shot back, voice tight. “You can’t just send me to my room. I have questions and you will give me answers now. I’ve waited long enough.”

Dottore had a feeling that you were not just talking about the past few hours. You were talking about the decade he had spent ignoring your existence. Unfortunately for you, he had no interest in answering your questions, not now or ever. 

He turned his attention back to Pantalone, ignoring the furious look that spread across your face at being blatantly ignored. Luckily—or unluckily, time would tell—Epsilon stepped in. He watched as your brows dipped in suspicion, looking between Epsilon and Dottore warily. If you hadn’t put together something was very, very wrong with the existence of Kappa, Gamma and Theta already, he had a feeling that Epsilon’s appearance just sealed it. 

Dottore turned away as Epsilon took your hand in his to press his lips to your knuckles before he gently led you in the direction of the door on the left. Gamma and Iota followed behind, the latter far more excited than the former. Gamma cast one last pleading look in Dottore’s direction just as Iota slammed the door shut behind them. 

Dottore, as he turned his attention to Theta’s still body, thought this might just be the worst case scenario. All three of the children. Theta. Epsilon. The last segments Dottore wanted meeting you all somehow managed to do just that within hours of you being in Zapolyarny. This would spread to all of the rest of the segments in no time and then he would have Zeta demanding to see proof of your existence and Rho lurking about curious; he’d have Delta bashing down the palace door to get Iota away from you, convinced by Lambda that you were only here to deceive them. And he’d have Lambda doing god knows what to try to remove your existence from their lives so they could continue their research without distraction. 

He needed a plan of action and he needed it fast but first, he had to deal with this. 

“What happened?” 

“Two aristocrats came up looking for the Kappa segment,” Pantalone said off-handedly. “Your soulmate interfered.”

“Interfered?” Dottore demanded. “What was she doing wandering around?”

Pantalone raised his eyebrows. “Was I meant to lock her in her room?”

Dottore looked at him coldly, silently telling him yes, he should have. They could not afford to have any of their subordinates run into you, much less any of the Harbingers and he knew that some of them would be searching for you. He remembered Columbina’s cryptic comment about you a few months ago, Sandrone’s fury at your presence in Snezhnaya, Arlecchino’s odd interest in you—and if Arlecchino was interested, it was only a matter of time before she sent her attack dog after you to find out whatever she wanted to know. Keeping you isolated from the rest of the Fatui was paramount.

“What happened with Theta?” Dottore asked after Pantalone let out an exaggerated sigh of agreement. 

“What always happens with Theta,” Pantalone said dismissively. “He gets set off and lashes out. Was going on about her faking the bond, apparently Lambda is going around convincing them she’s lying.”

Of course, Dottore thought bitterly. He knew that Lambda had been talking to Zeta, Delta and Rho but he thought the segment knew better than to get Theta wound up about this. 

He took a deep breath, taking a step away to calm himself down. Well, that made that decision: the first thing he had to do was talk to Lambda, he couldn’t have him turning the segments against you, least of all Theta, who was very liable to attack those that he thinks did him wrong. After that, he would figure out what to do with the rest of the segments because in stopping Lambda, he would have to admit to them all that you were his soulmate, that this was all real. 

That this was all real. 

Dottore shut his eyes briefly, unconsciously looking in the direction of where you, Epsilon and the kids had disappeared behind the dark door that led to your room. His body itched to follow them in there—the bond in work, surely, but he could feel it was getting stronger. It was stronger than it was while he had been dancing with you, and even stronger than it had been while talking to you outside of the washroom. He should just grab Theta and drag him back down to his lab, leaving Epsilon to deal with your interrogation, but his feet weren’t cooperating.

“You should speak to her,” Pantalone said as he turned to go back to his own room. “If you’re going to have me confine her to this wretched place, you should at the very least, explain to her why… lest you have a very unhappy soulmate on your hands. I doubt that would be conducive to productivity.” 

Dottore hummed dismissively, glancing back at the door once. He supposed should, he didn’t want to deal with your turbulent emotions, especially when he was going to be dealing with the segments. 

Distantly, a part of him wondered if he was just using that as a logical excuse to give in to the pull of the bond. 

“And Doctor, do get me that prototype by the morning as promised.”

You felt overwhelmed. The older boy, Gamma, was sitting in the corner of your room, knees tucked to his chest as he watched you with the younger two. Kappa was fast asleep now, tiny arms slung around your neck as he slept—you had tried to place him down on your bed but whenever you tried to pull him away from you, his arms tightened and he started stirring awake. The other one, you didn’t know his name yet, was kneeling on the floor next to the bed where you were sitting, big red eyes peeked above the comforter, watching you with varying degrees of suspicion and distrust and longing.

He had the same scar on the upper half of his face that Gamma did, you couldn’t help but notice, down to the burn patterns and wrinkles. And they were identical, if Gamma was a few years younger, he’d be the spitting image of the kid. It was impossible. Not even brothers can be so similar as to be identical down to the wrinkles and patterns in scars. 

So, what were they?

You had to have been onto something when you thought it was some sort of experiment—Kappa was too young to have been born eight years ago, Gamma and the new kid were too similar in appearances, if you saw correctly when Kappa partially knocked off the mask even Theta seemed to have some scars on his face, and Theta and Kappa both showed a strength that did not reflect in their body.

A throat being cleared knocked you out of your thoughts, your eyes drew up from the kids to where the man was standing near the door. He gave you a small, apologetic smile as his eyes met yours—red and gentle. 

Who was this?

You watched the man with thinly veiled suspicion. He looked just like Dottore, silvery blue hair styled the same way and even wearing a similar dark button-up that he did. 

Except unlike Dottore, he was not wearing a mask. 

His skin was smooth compared to the scars of the children and instead of the ever-present frown of Dottore, the corner of his lips were turned up. You had grown used to the cold aloofness of your soulmate over the years, it unnerved you how someone could look so much like him and yet feel entirely different. 

You raised your chin as Epsilon came to sit on the edge of the bed next to you, keeping your expression stony, studying him to try to figure out what he wanted from you.

“Peace,” he murmured. “I’d just like to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine.” 

He had a white handkerchief between his fingers and you were acutely aware of the blood still dripping down your cheeks and arm. He raised his eyebrows, but sighed when he realized you weren’t going to budge, placing the handkerchief back in his pocket. 

“Very well,” he said quietly. “I’m sure you have questions. I can answer them if you’d like.”

Of course you had questions, but could you trust him to answer them? 

He didn’t appear as if he was trying to deceive you, his eyes were warm and his lips were lax, he had none of that tightness that Dottore usually had. Was he faking it? Or was he wanting to help you? You couldn’t tell, his demeanor was throwing you off.

“You’re really her?” a new, young voice said softly, voice hesitant but tinged with the slightest bit of hope that had your heart aching. You looked back toward the kid as he peered up at you through thick curls of hair cautiously. “Our soulmate?”

Our.

Your ears rang, distantly watching as the boy reached out for your hand, thin fingers playing with yours until he reached the one your thread was looped around. From the corner of your eye, you looked at the older man, who was watching you with a knowing expression.

Our.

How was that possible? He could clearly see your thread, trying to play with it and tug at it in the same way you used to as a child, but he had no connecting one, like the Doctor did. Did that make you his soulmate but he was not yours? Was there such a thing as unrequited soulmates? But you didn’t think it was that simple, there was a critical piece of information you were still missing.

But the kid was looking at you again, anxiously awaiting your response, and you didn’t have the heart to deny him. Even if you weren’t sure what was going on, he could undeniably see your thread.

“Yes,” you finally said, watching as he lit up, red eyes pooling with tears and lips trembling as he flung himself forward, burying his face into your lap. He jostled Kappa, who kicked his foot out instinctively, but the kid was unbothered.

“I knew you were real.” His voice was muffled into the cloths of your dress. “Everyone said you weren’t but I knew you were.”

Your throat tightened and your now free hand twitched from where it was laying on the comforter of your bed, coming up to pat his head.

You let out a shaky breath, lifting your gaze to focus on the man still sitting on the edge of the bed, watching you with an indecipherable expression.

“I’ve never seen them take to someone like this before,” he said softly. “I suppose it’s just further proof that you are who you claim to be. Some of the others thought it might be a ploy.”

Others, you wondered distantly but you were more focused on the last thing he said, face twisting.

“I would not fake a soul bond,” you said tightly, mind turning to your stepfather and your mother, your dead father and your destroyed family.

“I insulted you,” he realized. “My apologies, it was not my intention. I was not one of the ones that thought that way but I figured it was best for you to know and prepare, some of them might doubt you when they meet you.”

“How many of you are there?” you asked, but the more important question that you just couldn’t push out was what are you?

“Excluding the Doctor, there are nine of us. I’m called Epsilon. Kappa is the youngest, then Iota, who is on your lap, and then Gamma, who’s sitting over there,” he explained.

You looked back over to where Gamma was sitting. He wasn’t looking at you anymore, staring out the window into the dark night… or maybe he was. Amused, you realized that he was still watching you carefully through the reflection of the window. As soon as he realized that you noticed what he was doing, he turned his head away quickly.

“He’ll warm up,” Epsilon said quietly. You looked back toward him, watching as his lips turned up, red eyes glittering, as if sharing some secret with you. “He’s nervous.”

You couldn’t help the way you let out a puff of amusement, studying Gamma and the way he was digging his nails into the palm of his hand and tapping his foot against the wood of the window nook incessantly. 

“I don’t… really understand all of this,” you finally admitted, relaxing a bit with Epsilon. You let yourself lean back against the large, decorative pillows set up on the bed, watching the man that looked eerily similar to Dottore, wondering if this was what he looked like beneath the mask as well.

“This is new for all of us too,” Epsilon told you, “so I can’t really explain to you what all of the bonds might be or mean… but I’m sure that is not what you’re asking right now, is it?”

“Not entirely, at least. First I’d like to understand…”

What you are. What they are. Why you can see the thread and why the children think that I’m their soulmate too.

���Well, I’ll do my best at explaining then. You deserve that much at least.”

The heavy weight on your chest lifted, if only a little. You thought that this might be the first time in weeks, months, that someone was actually giving you answers. Your father passed and left you with only questions, the masked person from the inn gave you even more questions and not a single answer, and now even Dottore refused to answer your questions, he just sent you away for Pantalone to deal with. 

“Thanks,” you said softly, eyes meeting his again.

Epsilon gave you a small smile, lips parting to speak but before he could say anything, the door to your room opened again. Your gaze shot up, eyes falling upon a familiar masked figure standing in the frame, lips pressed together tightly. 

“Epsilon,” Dottore said coldly. “Bring Theta down to the lab.”

Epsilon sighed heavily, shooting you an apologetic look before rising to his feet. “Another time,” he offered, and you nodded, disappointed, ignoring how Dottore’s lips turned downward.

Epsilon made his way out of the room, slipping past Dottore, and Gamma threw himself off the nook and scampered after Epsilon, fleeing the room without another look toward you. 

The door slam shut behind them, an eerie silence sweeping over the room as he left you with Dottore.

Dottore’s already sour mood worsened when Epsilon flung him a triumphant look as soon as his back was turned to you. He wondered what he said to you in those few minutes he was in here alone with you but for some reason, he doubted that you would tell him and he by no means wanted to add more fuel to the fire by appearing interested in you. Narrowed eyes followed Epsilon as he left the room, shutting the door harshly behind him and the Gamma segment so he could speak to you without unwelcome ears listening in.

The Kappa and Iota segments made no move to leave—one being fast asleep and the other now watching Dottore suspiciously, shifting behind you to peek over your shoulder at him. Dottore could see the boy clutching something in his hand, knuckles white around the object and arms tensed as if ready to throw it. Dottore raised his eyebrows, albeit knowing neither of you could see the action anyway. 

He ignored Iota and drew closer to the bed, taking a seat on the opposite side of the mattress that Epsilon had been sitting on as he observed you. You looked exhausted—your eyes looked heavy and tired, they didn’t have the same spark in them that they had earlier in the night, and the blood from the scratch marks on your was smeared messily, staining your skin and dress. 

Irritated, Dottore wondered why Epsilon hadn’t cleaned it up, pulling out a cloth from his jacket pocket and shifting a little closer. He grabbed your arm first, ignoring that tingling sensation as it reappeared as soon as the pads of his fingers were pressed against your bare skin, and especially ignoring the red thread tied around your finger. 

He could feel your eyes on him as he carefully wiped away the blood, distantly noting that Iota had shimmied out from behind you and was darting to the opposite side of the room. 

“He will not bother you again,” Dottore finally said, sparing a look to the side as Iota approached from the side, this time with bandages. He eyed the boy curiously, wondering if this room was one of the places he fled to those rare times he was stuck in the palace and got overwhelmed by the amount of people. Iota turned his head away pointedly and Dottore just shook his head, taking the bandages and wrapping them neatly around your wrist and forearm. 

You didn’t respond to him and Dottore glanced up at you, waiting for you to say something. You looked away, Dottore bit back an irritated sigh, tying off the bandage and moving a bit closer to look at your face.

“Thought they just called you a doctor for the irony,” you snipped half-heartedly, keeping your eyes averted as his fingers grabbed your jaw, turning your head to the side to see just how deep Theta had cut you.

Dottore let out an amused puff of air. “They do,” he drawled, “but I’m usually presented as one to acquire more willing test subjects. I must at least know the basics.” 

You gave him a withering look from the corner of your eye, bottom lip pushed out. He was grateful for his mask hiding the way his gaze lingered on it, focusing back on the scratch marks. They weren’t too deep but he didn’t have an ointment with him to spread over them, so instead he just pressed the handkerchief to the skin, cleaning up the blood.

“What are they?” you asked, eyes steeled for an argument. 

Dottore sighed heavily, considering briefly trying to avoid the subject but you did not seem keen on letting this slide and he was not in the mood for an argument. He wanted to get this done and get out of your room as soon as possible, even if his body was betraying him by allowing his fingers to linger on your cheek as he wiped away the blood. 

“They are me.”

Concise and to the point, as he always was, Dottore waited for the explosion of questions and demands to come from you but you only stared at him, studying him. Again, Dottore was grateful for his mask because he did not like the way he felt beneath your gaze.

“How?” you finally questioned. 

“Experimentation,” Dottore said dryly, your eyes narrowed as if that was an obvious answer. His lip unconsciously pulled up into a smirk. “I was able to isolate and extract my consciousness at specific periods of my life after years of study into-”

“Irminsul,” you finished for him, voice little over a breath and eyes darting down to your forearm. 

Dottore’s lips pressed into a thin line, watching you carefully—he did not like that, or did he? A part of him was impressed that you’d managed to put it together so easily just from the little he said and the words that had been transcribed to you through the bond. But on the same note, he thought that the fact that the bond had given you enough words to so easily string together how he had gone about his research was unnerving. 

Not for the first time since the bond appeared, Dottore felt distinctly violated. 

“Yes,” he said slowly. “Study into Irminsul. All I had to do was create vessels for the consciousnesses after extracting them.”

“And they are… you?” 

You were looking at Kappa with a different expression now, Dottore couldn’t figure out what it was but it made him uncomfortable, vulnerable. There was a reason why he made sure to keep all of the younger segments far, far away from people. Dottore let his hand drop back to his lap, folding the handkerchief and placing it back in his pocket. 

“Yes.” His voice came out colder and sharper, and you caught the change in tone, looking up at him quickly with furrowed brows. “I’ll be taking them back to the labs.”

You didn’t look pleased, frowning as you looked down at Kappa, who was still fast asleep. Behind Dottore, Iota let out a noise of protest but Dottore only had to turn his head to the side to stop the boy from speaking his complaint out loud. 

“So what? You’re just going to leave again?” you asked harshly.

“Did you think I was going to stay?” he quipped back, sarcasm dripping from his words. “That you and the younger segments and I were just going to be one happy family?” 

To your credit, you didn’t look too perturbed by the harsh words but he knew it affected you, if the way your grip tightened on Kappa had anything to say about it.

“You can’t just keep me here,” you spoke through gritted teeth. “I’m not-”

“You’ll find that I can do whatever I want,” Dottore corrected, rising to his feet. 

You didn’t hesitate, shifting Kappa down to lay on the bed next to you as you moved forward, fingers wrapping around his wrist to hold him in place. A commendable effort, but all it would take was one quick snap of his wrist to free it from your hold…

But he did not snap away his wrist. As easy as it would have been, instead he just stood there, staring down at you, waiting for you to say whatever you wanted to say. He tensed as if to pull away but his body didn’t cooperate—he blamed it on the bond but he wasn’t so sure that was the case.

“I’m not done,” you said. “I have more questions.”

“Another time,” he dismissed, finally forcing himself to pull his wrist back. Again, he felt a strange void as soon as the pressure of your fingers was removed from him. “I’ve wasted enough time tonight.”

Wasted?

“Wasted?” you echoed his very thought, scoffing loudly before shaking your head. “You know what, I don’t really care. What I do care about is knowing what that energy was around Pantalone—what was that?”

Dottore looked at her steadily from beneath his mask. “That is none of your business,” he said coolly. “Do not go sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong lest you find yourself a guest here forever.”

The look you gave him was nothing short of murderous. “As if I won’t be already,” you spat, rising to your feet to take a few steps closer to him after he moved away. Dottore remained rooted in place, looking down at you. “I will not be kept here like a caged animal.”

“Then maybe you should not act like one.”

“Excuse me?” Dottore’s words held no weight, but he did very much enjoy goading reactions out of you, watching as your face twisted in fury at the insult. “I came here for a reason, Doctor, and that reason was not to be imprisoned by you. I have information I need to find and one way or another, I will acquire it. You can either-”

“You will do as I say so long as you’re in this palace,” Dottore said, cutting you off by pinching your cheeks between his fingers and tilting your face up to look at him. “Just because we have a bond forced on us by Celestia does not make you untouchable, control that tongue of yours before it lashes at the wrong person. Once I get the information I want, I will consider getting you what you want. Then, we will never have to see each other again. Until then, you have reaped what you sowed and it is no one’s fault but your own that you were not adequately prepared for the consequences of your actions, do you understand?”

Just for a second, he watched as a helpless expression spread across your face, eyes glassy and lips pressed together tight as you stared up at him. His tongue itched to say something else but no words formed on it before you snapped your face out of his hold, looking away. 

“Get out.”

A part of him wanted to refuse just to be spiteful—was it spite? Or was it something else, that heavy feeling weighing at his chest? That was a question he was not ready to answer, so instead, he smiled thinly:

“Gladly.”

i promise they’re going to start warming up to each other soon more than just in their internal narration <.< soon as in very soon wait til you see the scene i have planned

RBS APPRECIATED!

[suzukiblu]

congratulations, it's a metaweapon! for thr WIP Wednesday please I gotta know if Kon's really gonna hurt them or not

“I am fucking done,” Superboy snarls, his furious voice reverberating in strange ways and eyes wide and burning. Match feels his hackles rise and his skin prickle right before every single piece of the cracked floor all throws itself at Alpha and Gamma and Spence and the guards all at once. 

All of the floor, all the way down to the broken concrete and twisted rebar underneath it.

[perfectlovevn]

Perfect Love Devlog #40

I'll be going to be camping with family and friends until Wednesday, so I might just skip next week's devlog in that case. I was able to finish Ryan's extra route and I also made something for someone's birthday (cough Pandora) so that's also in the game now I guess.

I was watching a video on how undertale was coded and I got this horrible idea based off of the fun value that Toby Fox did. Well not horrible, but the idea is that you would get a random extra scene that gets rolled when you first open the game. Of course that would mean that I would have to make a bunch of scenes, but considering that I made two of the easter eggs on the menu screen the day before I released the game, well I could probably just make some scenarios for all of the character's interactions. Like I said, horrible idea.

If I have time next week, I'll either do some corrections based on Vivian's corrections or I'l try to do Valli and Gamma's route next. I still have no idea how I'm going to do the holographic look that Gamma's gonna have, but I'll just try it out. I'm really into dredge again though so I'm just going to go back to fishing.

[spacetimewithstuartgary]

New SpaceTime out Friday

SpaceTime 20241129 Series 27 Episode 144

Challenging current understanding of how planets are formed

Scientists have discovered an exoplanet that’s just three million years old, challenging current understanding on how quickly planets are formed.

A new theory reveals the shape of a photon

A new theory, that explains how light and matter interact at the quantum level has enabled scientists to for the first time define the precise shape of a single photon.

NASA's Swift space telescope celebrates 20 years in orbit

NASA’s gamma ray burst hunting Swift space telescope has just celebrated its twentieth year in space.

The Science Report

Claims blood thinners double your risk of internal bleed if you take non-steroidal anti-inflammatories.

The DNA history of moder day cattle.

The boundary between solid and liquid metals can be much less ‘solid’ than previously thought.

Skeptics guide to how your brain is primed to believe in the paranormal

SpaceTime covers the latest news in astronomy & space sciences.

The show is available every Monday, Wednesday and Friday through Apple Podcasts (itunes), Stitcher, Google Podcast, Pocketcasts, SoundCloud, Bitez.com, YouTube, your favourite podcast download provider, and from www.spacetimewithstuartgary.com

SpaceTime is also broadcast through the National Science Foundation on Science Zone Radio and on both i-heart Radio and Tune-In Radio.

SpaceTime daily news blog: http://spacetimewithstuartgary.tumblr.com/

SpaceTime facebook: www.facebook.com/spacetimewithstuartgary

SpaceTime Instagram @spacetimewithstuartgary

SpaceTime twitter feed @stuartgary

SpaceTime YouTube: @SpaceTimewithStuartGary

SpaceTime -- A brief history

SpaceTime is Australia’s most popular and respected astronomy and space science news program – averaging over two million downloads every year. We’re also number five in the United States.  The show reports on the latest stories and discoveries making news in astronomy, space flight, and science.  SpaceTime features weekly interviews with leading Australian scientists about their research.  The show began life in 1995 as ‘StarStuff’ on the Australian Broadcasting Corporation’s (ABC) NewsRadio network.  Award winning investigative reporter Stuart Gary created the program during more than fifteen years as NewsRadio’s evening anchor and Science Editor.  Gary’s always loved science. He studied astronomy at university and was invited to undertake a PHD in astrophysics, but instead focused on his career in journalism and radio broadcasting. Gary’s radio career stretches back some 34 years including 26 at the ABC. He worked as an announcer and music DJ in commercial radio, before becoming a journalist and eventually joining ABC News and Current Affairs. He was part of the team that set up ABC NewsRadio and became one of its first on air presenters. When asked to put his science background to use, Gary developed StarStuff which he wrote, produced and hosted, consistently achieving 9 per cent of the national Australian radio audience based on the ABC’s Nielsen ratings survey figures for the five major Australian metro markets: Sydney, Melbourne, Brisbane, Adelaide, and Perth.  The StarStuff podcast was published on line by ABC Science -- achieving over 1.3 million downloads annually.  However, after some 20 years, the show finally wrapped up in December 2015 following ABC funding cuts, and a redirection of available finances to increase sports and horse racing coverage.  Rather than continue with the ABC, Gary resigned so that he could keep the show going independently.  StarStuff was rebranded as “SpaceTime”, with the first episode being broadcast in February 2016.  Over the years, SpaceTime has grown, more than doubling its former ABC audience numbers and expanding to include new segments such as the Science Report -- which provides a wrap of general science news, weekly skeptical science features, special reports looking at the latest computer and technology news, and Skywatch – which provides a monthly guide to the night skies. The show is published three times weekly (every Monday, Wednesday and Friday) and available from the United States National Science Foundation on Science Zone Radio, and through both i-heart Radio and Tune-In Radio.

[leithlovesyou]

WIP Game!

Rules: You will be given a word. Share one sentence/excerpt from your wip(s) that start with each letter of that word

Thanks for tagging me @kalicofox ! The word's FAIRY

F - MLBxDC crossover

Fondness and nostalgia warred with the ever present grief in his chest. He missed them. He missed his best friends like a flower missed the sun.  “What if you could have them back?” whispered a poisonous voice in his mind. Tim couldn’t find it in him to even flinch. The same question had driven him to the abandoned CADMUS facility in the first place. “I can give you the power to bring them back.” Yeah right. As if that wouldn’t come at a cost. “All you have to do is bring me the Miraculous of Ladybug and Chat Noir.” The Persian heroes? Tim didn’t know much about them, but he was a Bat. How hard could it be? He had already sunk so far as to rob museums, what would it hurt?

A - there's an endless road to (re)discover (demigods Jason and Tim) chapter 2

A quick glance over to the dashboard had Jason laughing. “You don’t keep your fancy supercar full of gas?” Jason laughed, the hilarity fighting with his annoyance.  “Shut the hell up, Jason,” Tim snapped. His hands tightened on the wheel, making his knuckles turn white. “I drove from Smallville to Gotham and made it just in time for patrol and I didn’t see this coming.” “What, you abducting me?” “It’s not abduction if you came willingly.” Tim grit his teeth as they pulled into the next gas station. 

I - A Wednesday in Gotham (Spirit Halloween slowburn)

“I’m not letting you put yourself in danger by helping me!” Bruce snaps as he grabs Danny’s wrist. “And I’m not letting you be a self-sacrificing idiot by not accepting help!” He returned, bright blue eyes staring into gunmetal grey.  “I don’t need your help!” “Too bad!”

R - Alice, Alice (Tim Drake is the Young Wizard from Wizard101)

Rain stung my skin, startling me out of my thoughts. A shadow passed by the single lit window of the tower. “Whoooo?” Gamma questioned, looking at Professor Ambrose.  “How odd!” He exclaimed, starting towards the tower. “Come along, young wizard! Let us investigate the matter.” He wanted me to go with him?! Was he insane?! This whole situation was crazy! And now an old man wanted me to follow him into a spooky wizard tower in the middle of a storm. It was ridiculous, I could laugh! Except for the fact I still couldn’t make noise.  This was one screwed up dream. It had to be a dream, right?

Y - Nightwing!Tim

“You’ve done it once, you can do it again. Bruce may not be here, but you’re not alone Dick.” If only [Tim] could say the same for himself.  Dick stood from his seat, coming around to sit next to Tim on the counter top. Tim couldn’t help but lean against his older brother, taking solace in his body heat. One moment stretched into two, this silence more like a comfortable blanket than an oppressive weight. It felt like the nights Nightwing and Robin would spend trainsurfing instead of working cases.  Dick took a deep breath, tilting his head to look at the ceiling. “If I’m going to do this, I’m going to need you to stay by my side.”  “Of course.” Tim would follow Dick to the ends of the earth, if he only asked. “Batman needs his Robin.”  “Yeah. He does,” Dick agreed, “But I think you could be much more than Robin.”

Alright! Those were mine! @finemeal @littlestartopaz you're next! Your word is WINGS

[heroictoonz]

“So the O’Malley in your head,” Tucker started instead. “What was that then? If it wasn’t Omega. I never got to ask about that.”  Doc shifted almost nervously at the question. “Ah, that. Um, well. I guess when he was pulled out of my head my brain had to fill that gap with… with something else.” He crossed his arms over his chest but it wasn’t in the same casual way as Tucker. His seemed more guarded. Like he didn’t want to continue the topic at hand.  “And that ‘something else’ was O’Malley?”  Doc nodded again.  It didn’t make much sense to Tucker, honestly. Especially since no one else seemed to come out of having an AI with that.  “Yeah but also most everyone else who had the AI are dead now,” Church huffed. “Well, either dead or Carolina and Wash I guess.”  Tucker supposed there was a point there. Who’s to say how the others would have mentally coped with losing their AI like that. From what he knew about the project’s ends, most of them didn’t cope well with it. Tucker didn’t even wanna think about what might happen if all nine of these fuckers were suddenly ripped from him at once.  Not that he wanted to keep them either. He needed to find a way to get them all out safely that wouldn’t fuck up his brain in the worst way possible.  He could hear Gamma start to laugh. “You are too late for that.”  Tucker frowned. What the fuck did that even mean.  “Don’t listen to him,” Church hissed out. “The Alpha’s decite, remember?”  “The pot and the kettle sure are talkative tonight,” Sigma mused almost humored. 

I forgot wip wednesday but I wanna start doing wip wednesday but I was wayyyy too busy this week So have a day late wip

[mysticstronomy]

THE UNIVERSE COULD BE FILLED WITH ULTRALIGHT BLACK HOLES THAT CAN'T DIE??

Blog#400

Saturday, May 11th, 2024.

Welcome back,

Primordial black holes are hypothetical objects formed during the earliest moments of the universe. According to the models, they formed from micro-fluctuations in matter density and spacetime to become sand grain-sized mountain-massed black holes.

Although we've never detected primordial black holes, they have all the necessary properties of dark matter, such as not emitting light and the ability to cluster around galaxies. If they exist, they could explain most of dark matter.

The downside is that most primordial black hole candidates have been ruled out by observation. For example, to account for dark matter there would have to be so many of these gravitational pipsqueaks that they would often pass in front of a star from our vantage point. This would create a microlensing flare we should regularly observe. Several sky surveys have looked for such an event to no avail, so PBH dark matter is not a popular idea these days.

A new work, posted to the arXiv preprint server, takes a slightly different approach. Rather than looking at typical primordial black holes, it considers ultralight black holes. These are on the small end of possible masses and are so tiny that Hawking radiation would come into play.

The rate of Hawking decay is inversely proportional to the size of a black hole, so these ultralight black holes should radiate to their end of life on a short cosmic timescale.

Since we don't have a full model of quantum gravity, we don't know what would happen to ultralight black holes at the end, which is where this paper comes in.

As the author notes, basically there are three possible outcomes. The first is that the black hole radiates away completely. The black hole would end as a brief flash of high-energy particles. The second is that some mechanism prevents complete evaporation and the black hole reaches some kind of equilibrium state. The third option is similar to the second, but in this case, the equilibrium state causes the event horizon to disappear, leaving an exposed dense mass known as a naked singularity.

The author also notes that for the latter two outcomes, the objects might have a net electric charge.

For the evaporating case, the biggest unknown would be the timescale of evaporation. If PBHs are initially tiny they would evaporate quickly and add to the reheating effect of the early cosmos. If they evaporate slowly, we should be able to see their deaths as a flash of gamma rays. Neither of these effects has been observed, but it is possible that detectors such as Fermi's Large Area Telescope might catch one in the act.

For the latter two options, the author argues that equilibrium would be reached around the Planck scale. The remnants would be proton-sized but with much higher masses. Unfortunately, if these remnants are electrically neutral they would be impossible to detect. They wouldn't decay into other particles, nor would they be large enough to detect directly. This would match observation, but isn't a satisfying result.

The model is essentially unprovable. If the particles do have a charge, then we might detect their presence in the next generation of neutrino detectors.

The main thing about this work is that primordial black holes aren't entirely ruled out by current observations. Until we have better data, this model joins the theoretical pile of many other possibilities.

Originally published on https://phys-org.

COMING UP!!

(Wednesday, May 15th, 2024)

"DOES THE UNIVERSE EXPAND BY STRETCHING OR CREATING SPACE??"

[head-post]

Trump accused Harris of misleading voters about her race

Former President Donald Trump accused Democratic presidential candidate Kamala Harris of misleading voters about her race, according to AP News.

Trump made the statement while speaking before the National Association of Black Journalists (NABJ) in Chicago in a Wednesday interview. He claimed that Harris, the first black woman and Asian-American to serve as vice president, had only promoted her Indian heritage in the past.

I didn’t know she was Black until a number of years ago when she happened to turn Black and now she wants to be known as Black. So, I don’t know, is she Indian or is she Black?

Harris is the daughter of a Jamaican father and an Indian mother, both immigrants to the United States. As an undergraduate, Harris attended Howard University, one of the most prominent historically Black universities in the country, where she also joined the Black sorority Alpha Kappa Alpha.

Trump has widely criticised Harris since she replaced President Joe Biden at the top of the likely Democratic ticket last week. Michael Tyler, communications director for Harris’ campaign, said that “the hostility Donald Trump showed on stage today is the same hostility he has shown throughout his life, throughout his term in office, and throughout his campaign for president as he seeks to regain power.”

Katrina Pierson, a spokeswoman for Trump’s campaign, pointed to his previous political donation to Harris as proof that he was not a racist.

“The president, as a private businessman, donated to candidates across all aisles. And I’ll note that Kamala Harris is a Black woman and he donated to her campaign, so I hope we can squash this racism argument now.”

Fighting for Black voter support

Before he took the stage, Trump’s team showed news headlines from years ago that referred to Harris as the “first Indian-American senator” on the arena’s big screen. Trump’s appearance on Wednesday at the annual gathering of Black journalists was immediately heated, sparking a number of altercations.

I think it’s disgraceful. I came here in good spirit. I love the Black population of this country. I’ve done so much for the Black population of this country.

The former president’s invitation to address the organisation sparked an intense internal debate within NABJ that spilled out onto the Internet. Organisations of journalists of colour typically invite presidential candidates to speak at their summer gatherings during election years.

Harris briefly commented on Trump’s remarks on Wednesday night while speaking at a gathering of Sigma Gamma Rho, a historically Black sorority, in Houston.

“It was the same old show. The divisiveness and the disrespect. And let me just say, the American people deserve better.”

Read more HERE

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Helen Sullivan at The Guardian:

Kamala Harris has shrugged off Donald Trump’s questioning of her racial identity, saying that it was “the same old show” and that “America deserves better”, at a rally in Texas. On Wednesday, in an appearance at the National Association of Black Journalists (NABJ), Trump antagonised senior Black journalists and questioned Harris’s race, saying, “She was always of Indian heritage, and she was only promoting Indian heritage. I didn’t know she was Black until a number of years ago, when she happened to turn Black.” His interview, which was meant to last an hour, according to Axios, was cut short after 34 minutes. In Houston, Harris appeared unruffled and kept her remarks on Trump’s comments brief. “This afternoon,” she said, pausing for boos from the crowd. “Donald Trump spoke at the annual meeting of the National Association of Black Journalists.”

“And it was the same old show: the divisiveness and the disrespect. And let me just say, the American people deserve better. The American people deserve a leader who tells the truth. A leader who does not respond with hostility and anger when confronted with the facts. We deserve a leader who understands that our differences do not divide us – they are an essential source of our strength.” The presumptive Democratic presidential nominee was speaking at the Sigma Gamma Rho’s 60th International Biennial Boulé, the Black sorority’s gathering of its entire membership in Houston, Texas. Harris said she was there “as a proud member of the Divine Nine” – a group of Black fraternities and sororities in the US. Harris is a member of the Alpha Kappa Alpha sorority. The Harris campaign said in a statement: “The Donald Trump America saw at NABJ is the one Black voters have known for years.” On Wednesday evening, Trump spoke at a rally in Pennsylvania, his first in the state since the assassination attempt against him last month. Trump said of Harris, “Don’t forget. Four weeks ago she was considered, like, the worst,” and that she had had a “personality makeover … All of a sudden she’s considered the new Margaret Thatcher”.

Kamala Harris delivers a righteous response to Don-Old Trump’s sickening racist attacks on her racial identity at the NABJ convention: “it was the same old show.”

See Also:

HuffPost: Kamala Harris Says Trump’s Racist Attacks Show 'American People Deserve Better'

[greymoonfeelings]

Goddamn, Man-child

you fucked me so good that I almost said “I love you”

Pairing: Frat boy! Jake Seresin x Fem! Reader

Summary: Your Friday night doesn’t go exactly as planned, but what can you expect when you’ve fallen for a fuckboy?

Word count: 2.9k

Warnings: toxic fuckboy Jake, alcohol consumption, dirty dancing, jealousy, degrading names, oral (m receiving)/facefucking, unprotected PinV and creampie.

thanks to @green-socks for editing help!

•••

When you first started college three years ago, you had no interest in partying. Your top priority was getting good grades, not spending your weekends hunched over a dirty toilet seat. For three years it stayed that way. It wasn’t until your final year that you finally indulged in the partying and that was for one reason only: Jake Seresin, the president of the biggest fraternity on campus.

The first time you met Jake was two months ago when your friends dragged you to Gamma Delta Chi’s Halloween party. Apparently, he has a thing for sexy pirates because you hooked up that night. What had started as a drunk mistake turned into somewhat of a ritual for the two of you. Jake is by no means the “nice guy” you were hoping to meet when you started college, but he’s charming and gorgeous and he knows how to please a woman which is more than you can say for most guys his age.

After a long and stressful week, it's finally Friday night. Jake sent you a text Wednesday night saying he missed you, accompanied by a foggy mirror picture post-shower. You nearly ran over to his house right then but you knew you had an 8 am class the next morning. However, you planned on making up for it tonight.

When you first walk through the front door of the house, you’re hit by the overwhelming stench of weed and cheap cologne. As you push through the sea of bodies on the way to the kitchen, your eyes subtly scan the house for Jake. He’s usually easy to spot. He’s tall with a mess of blond hair and likely to be surrounded by a few girls or freshman boys who worship him like some sort of god.

You finally locate him when you make it to the kitchen island that’s lined with an array of alcohol. In the corner of the connected dining room, directly in your line of vision, stands Jake. He’s pressed up against some redhead, talking intimately. From the smile that breaks out on her face, it’s apparent that he’s flirting with her.

The sound of her giggling turns your stomach. Your grip on a beer bottle starts to slip as your palms grow sweaty and your heart hammers in your ribcage. You exchange the beer for something stronger, quickly screwing the top off so you can chug straight from the bottle.

No matter how much you drink, your mouth still feels like it’s full of cotton. The scene playing out before you is nothing new. Jake is notorious for flirting with any girl who crosses his path. You’re not officially his girlfriend, but that doesn’t stop it from hurting.

You exit the kitchen with the bottle of vodka tucked under your arm in search of your friends. If you can distract yourself for an hour or two, you’re sure Jake will eventually seek you out.

As the night progresses, Jake and his new friend stay attached at the hip. Jake hasn't looked at you once despite your circle of friends standing only a few feet away. Eventually, he brings her over to the pool table and starts to teach her how to play, the same thing he did with you and likely all his potential hookups.

How could you be so stupid as to fall for that and think that you were somehow special? You knew what kind of a man he was, a horny 22-year-old frat boy who prided himself on being a womanizer, but somehow, you convinced yourself he was different.

Deciding to leave and stop attending these parties completely would be the smart thing to do, but at this point, you’ve consumed too much alcohol to be making any rational decisions. Right now you need something to make you forget about Jake. Or someone…

That distraction comes in the form of a rowdy frat boy who bumps into you as he high-fives his friend that’s in your circle. You recognize the guy as Bradley Bradshaw. The two of you shared a few classes over the years and he’s always been nice to you unlike some of his frat brothers. He’s attractive, athletic, and gets good grades. You could do a lot worse.

“Hey, Bradley!” You throw your arm around his shoulder, leaning in to kiss his cheek.

“What’s up?” He greets you with a squeeze on the hip.

“Let’s dance!” Without a second thought, you grab the brunette’s arm and drag him toward the horde of dancing couples. He doesn’t question you, instead falling quickly into place with his hands on your hips as they sway to the beat of whatever song is shaking the house at its foundation.

As you dance, you put all your energy into forgetting about Jake. You get lost in the music and the feeling of Bradley’s body pressed against yours. The alcohol coursing through your veins helps and for a few minutes, the distraction works. That is until you catch Jake staring at you from across the living room.

He watches the way you move to the music along with the man pressed up against your back. The sight of someone else feeling you up causes his body to tense up and his grip on his beer bottle tightens, squeezing it the way he wishes he could to Bradley’s neck.

You smirk proudly at Jake ignoring the oblivious girl in favor of glaring at you and your dance partner, obviously jealous. This was not your original intention, but Jake deserves a taste of his own medicine.

You keep your eyes locked with his as you begin to grind your ass harder against Bradley’s front. One of Bradley’s hands snakes around your waist to pull you flush against his chest. He presses his mouth into your neck, warm breath fanning the exposed skin.

Jake stands there seething until he can’t take it anymore. His reserve finally breaks when you grab Bradley’s neck and turn to smash your lips together. When Bradley tries to slip his tongue into your mouth, you decide it’s time to pull away, but before you can, he’s being pulled off of you.

Everything is a blur as Jake grabs your waist, pulling you through the crowded house past other couples and into the first-floor bathroom. The door slams behind him with a resounding thud.

“What the hell are you doing with Bradshaw?”

“We were dancing!”

“His dick was pressed against your ass!” Jake is now mere inches from your face and you can’t help but think that he still looks hot even when he’s angry. His beautiful green eyes darkened, nostrils flared and that prominent vein popping out of his neck. God, you wish you could bite it.

Fuck. You remind yourself why you’re furious with him in the first place.

“Fuck you!” You push him away. “Why don’t you go back out to Strawberry Short–”

Before you get the chance to finish, Jake is all over you like a cheap suit. He captures your lips in a heated kiss that sends you stumbling backward. You bump into the wall just as he slips his tongue into your mouth.

Part of you wants to shove him off, keep yelling at him for being an asshole and maybe even slap him just to prove a point, but you won’t. Your need for him significantly outweighs your anger and frustration. After all, he’s here with you, isn't he? Not that other girl.

Running your hands through the hair at the base of his neck, you use it as leverage to pull him closer and force his tongue even farther into your mouth. One of Jake’s hands trails under your skirt, groping the supple flesh of your ass before drifting between your thighs.

“Pathetic,” Jake growls as his fingers trail over the wet patch of your panties. “So wet just from grinding like a bitch in heat.” He rips the flimsy fabric down your legs. “You were a little slut teasing him like that. I bet he thought you were gonna fuck him. He’s probably standing out there with a tent in his pants. I bet he’ll be rubbing one out to the thought of you later on. Maybe I should let him in here, let him use you any way he wants.”

The response that pulls from you is something between a whimper and a moan. Jake lets out a dark chuckle, “I bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Well, that’s too bad. The only guy you’ll be taking care of is me.”

“On your knees,” he orders and you oblige, slipping off the counter and onto the tile floor. You sit on your heels, watching patiently as Jake undoes his belt buckle and pulls his dark-wash jeans down to his calves along with his boxers.

Jake smears your lips with precum as he taps his leaking tip against the delicate skin before ordering you to “open up”. You stick your tongue out and relax your jaw, allowing Jake to slowly feed you his cock. He starts slow, letting you take your time to get adjusted to the feeling of him in your mouth. He’s gotten you well-trained over the past two months though and within a minute you’re taking him back until your nose rubs against the curly hair at his base. When your hands grip his thighs and you look up at him through your long fluttering lashes, Jake knows you’re permitting him to use your mouth.

He holds your head still as he pulls his dick almost completely out before forcing it back down your throat. The surprise jolt causes you to gag around his thick cock as your eyes water and drool pools at the corners of your mouth. Peering up at him through wet lashes, you try to hold eye contact with him, but his eyelids flutter closed as he revels in the feeling of your warm mouth.

Jake looks down at your flushed face to admire your ruined eye makeup. Black mascara is smudged under your eyes, running with tear tracks. The sinful sight fuels his arousal. You focus your breathing to avoid violently gagging anymore as Jake begins to steadily fuck your face.

“Knew you had to be good for something,” he grunts.

Between the spit you’ve coated his cock in and the feeling of your warm mouth, Jake can feel his orgasm creeping up on him. You swallow around him as he pushes to the back of your throat once more and Jake decides that’s enough. You whine at the loss of contact but he tuts.

“Did you think I was gonna let you taste me?” You nod solemnly. “Nah, that would be too easy. I gotta make you work for it.” Jake motions for you to stand up and then bends you over the counter. The temperature of the granite is a stark contrast to your body which feels like it’s on fire.

When he nudges your legs apart and flips up the fabric of your skirt to expose your wet cunt, Jake notes the glimmer of your slick-coated thighs under the warm light. He leans down so he can whisper in your ear. “You get off on me using you, don’t ya?” You can hear the amusement in his voice. His heavy drawl sends a new wave of arousal to your neglected cunt. If you don’t feel him inside you soon, you fear you might die.

Your wish is granted when Jake lines his cock up with your dripping entrance. Within one thrust he’s fully sheathed inside your pussy. You yelp as your body slides forward, your head nearly hitting the mirror from the force of his pelvis slamming against your ass.

The sensation that comes with being full of Jake’s thick cock is nearly too much. It’s a painful yet delicious stretch, one you’ll be feeling for days after. Every time you think you might have gotten used to his size, he proves you wrong.

“I can feel your tight little pussy squeezing around me, sugar. I can tell I’m splitting you open.” Jake uses his grip on your hair to gently lift your head off the counter. Your eyes meet in the mirror as he watches you squirm on his cock. He’s got that shit-eating grin plastered on his face like always. “Always so needy for some cock, huh? My greedy little cockwhore.”

Jake’s pearly whites tug on your earlobe before releasing your hair, allowing your head to lull back against the counter. He pulls his cock out halfway then slides back in. His first few thrusts are slow yet purposeful. Slender fingers dig into your hips as he pulls them back to meet him with each deliberate punctuation of his cock.

With your face buried in the crook of your elbow, your moans are muffled. This doesn’t please Jake. “I want to hear you, sugar. I want everyone to hear how good I make you feel”, he growls. You obey, letting your arm fall to your side.

Your volume increases as Jake picks up his pace, now mercilessly pounding into you. The high-pitched cries that fall from your open mouth are like music to Jake’s ears. Your hands clutch onto the edge of the granite as if your life depends on it and it might as well with the way Jake is fucking you.

“Is this what you wanted?” Jake’s angry voice snarls in your ear. “Wanted someone to fuck you like the dirty slut you are?”

He lifts your left leg to rest it beside you on the counter, allowing him to slip in at a new angle. Your body rocks against the counter with each snap of his hips. The nudge of his cockhead against your cervix is unrelenting as he takes his frustrations out on your body.

The tiny bathroom is filled with the sounds of skin slapping and euphoric screams but the music booming through the frat house muffles it from the unsuspecting crowd.

“Please,” you cry. You’re so close to your orgasm, but you need something else to push you over the edge. Jake knows exactly what it is that you need, but he refuses to give it to you.

“Please?” Jake taunts. “Please what?”

“Please make me cum!”

“Make you cum? I don’t think so. I think I’ll just fill you up and let you walk around the rest of the night unsatisfied with me dripping down your thighs. Maybe that will teach you a lesson.”

Your head shoots up from the counter. Looking at Jake in the mirror again you cry out, “No, Please! Please don’t! Please!”

Suddenly, the door bursts open. A deep voice yells out, “What’s going on in here?”

Your head snaps to look at the intruder, embarrassment flooding you as you come face to face with Bradley. You’re even more horrified at the fact that Jake is still pounding into you as if his sworn enemy hasn’t just walked in on the two of you fucking.

Bradley’s face turns beet red as he realizes what he walked in on and that it was not, as he had thought, some girl getting harassed. His brain is screaming at him to run away, but he stands in place frozen and wide-eyed as he grapples to understand what he’s witnessing.

“What the fuck are you looking at, Bradshaw? Get the fuck out of here!” Bradley finally scrambles out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him. “Fucking idiot,” Jake grumbles. “Now, I believe you were asking me for something?”

All your embarrassment dissipates as Jake’s cock rams against your sweet spot again. “Will you make me cum? Please, Jake?” Your voice quivers as you plead.

He considers you for a moment, eyes glassy and a pout on those perfect lips of yours. Jake loves to tease you, but he loves the feeling of you coming apart on his cock even more.

“Guess Bradshaw knows not to mess with you now.” Jake resigns as one hand trails to the front of your body. Two deft fingers find your swollen clit, offering you the stimulation you desperately craved.

“Thank you! Thank you!” You cry out as you reach your climax. The white-hot pleasure spreads through you like wildfire, causing your entire body to shake against the counter.

Jake’s body folds over yours as he’s propelled closer to his orgasm by the feeling of your sweet cunt pulsing around him. His teeth sink into your shoulder as his cock twitches inside of you. He ruts into your spent pussy, pumping you full of his cum that will surely leak out of you just as promised.

Once he catches his breath, Jake pulls out of you and redresses his bottom half. You stay propped up against the counter trying to compose yourself while Jake picks your underwear off the floor. He tosses the article of clothing onto the counter before pulling off his baseball tee.

“Here. You should probably clean yourself up before you go back out there.” He extends the shirt out for you to take before reaching for the door. “I’ll see you around.”

“That’s it?” You ask, incredulous. Jake’s brows furrow as he gives you a quizzical look. “Are you kidding me?”

“What?”

“You can’t just fuck my brains out because you were jealous that I was dancing with Bradley and then not say anything. You’re the one who ignored me all night while you flirted with some other girl.”

“I am *not* jealous of Bradley.”

“Then what do you call what just happened?”

“It’s called hooking up, sugar. We do it all the time.”

“and now you’re just gonna leave?”

“There’s nothing to talk about. We’re not a couple. We can do whatever we want.” With that final remark, Jake walks back out to the party, still shirtless, leaving you alone in the bathroom to process what just happened.

When he nudges your legs apart and flips up the fabric of your skirt to expose your wet cunt, Jake notes the glimmer of your slick-coated thighs under the warm light. He leans down so he can whisper in your ear. “You get off on me using you, don’t ya?” You can hear the amusement in his voice. His heavy drawl sends a new wave of arousal to your neglected cunt. If you don’t feel him inside you soon, you fear you might die.

Your wish is granted when Jake lines his cock up with your dripping entrance. Within one thrust he’s fully sheathed inside your pussy. You yelp as your body slides forward, your head nearly hitting the mirror from the force of his pelvis slamming against your ass.

The sensation that comes with being full of Jake’s thick cock is nearly too much. It’s a painful yet delicious stretch, one you’ll be feeling for days after. Every time you think you might have gotten used to his size, he proves you wrong.

“I can feel your tight little pussy squeezing around me, sugar. I can tell I’m splitting you open.” Jake uses his grip on your hair to gently lift your head off the counter. Your eyes meet in the mirror as he watches you squirm on his cock. He’s got that shit-eating grin plastered on his face like always. “Always so needy for some cock, huh? My greedy little cockwhore.”

Jake’s pearly whites tug on your earlobe before releasing your hair, allowing your head to lull back against the counter. He pulls his cock out halfway then slides back in. His first few thrusts are slow yet purposeful. Slender fingers dig into your hips as he pulls them back to meet him with each deliberate punctuation of his cock.

With your face buried in the crook of your elbow, your moans are muffled. This doesn’t please Jake. “I want to hear you, sugar. I want everyone to hear how good I make you feel”, he growls. You obey, letting your arm fall to your side.

Your volume increases as Jake picks up his pace, now mercilessly pounding into you. The high-pitched cries that fall from your open mouth are like music to Jake’s ears. Your hands clutch onto the edge of the granite as if your life depends on it and it might as well with the way Jake is fucking you.

“Is this what you wanted?” Jake’s angry voice snarls in your ear. “Wanted someone to fuck you like the dirty slut you are?”

He lifts your left leg to rest it beside you on the counter, allowing him to slip in at a new angle. Your body rocks against the counter with each snap of his hips. The nudge of his cockhead against your cervix is unrelenting as he takes his frustrations out on your body.

The tiny bathroom is filled with the sounds of skin slapping and euphoric screams but the music booming through the frat house muffles it from the unsuspecting crowd.

“Please,” you cry. You’re so close to your orgasm, but you need something else to push you over the edge. Jake knows exactly what it is that you need, but he refuses to give it to you.

“Please?” Jake taunts. “Please what?”

“Please make me cum!”

“Make you cum? I don’t think so. I think I’ll just fill you up and let you walk around the rest of the night unsatisfied with me dripping down your thighs. Maybe that will teach you a lesson.”

Your head shoots up from the counter. Looking at Jake in the mirror again you cry out, “No, Please! Please don’t! Please!”

Suddenly, the door bursts open. A deep voice yells out, “What’s going on in here?”

Your head snaps to look at the intruder, embarrassment flooding you as you come face to face with Bradley. You’re even more horrified at the fact that Jake is still pounding into you as if his sworn enemy hasn’t just walked in on the two of you fucking.

Bradley’s face turns beet red as he realizes what he walked in on and that it was not, as he had thought, some girl getting harassed. His brain is screaming at him to run away, but he stands in place frozen and wide-eyed as he grapples to understand what he’s witnessing.

“What the fuck are you looking at, Bradshaw? Get the fuck out of here!” Bradley finally scrambles out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him. “Fucking idiot,” Jake grumbles. “Now, I believe you were asking me for something?”

All your embarrassment dissipates as Jake’s cock rams against your sweet spot again. “Will you make me cum? Please, Jake?” Your voice quivers as you plead.

He considers you for a moment, eyes glassy and a pout on those perfect lips of yours. Jake loves to tease you, but he loves the feeling of you coming apart on his cock even more.

“Guess Bradshaw knows not to mess with you now.” Jake resigns as one hand trails to the front of your body. Two deft fingers find your swollen clit, offering you the stimulation you desperately craved.

“Thank you! Thank you!” You cry out as you reach your climax. The white-hot pleasure spreads through you like wildfire, causing your entire body to shake against the counter.

Jake’s body folds over yours as he’s propelled closer to his orgasm by the feeling of your sweet cunt pulsing around him. His teeth sink into your shoulder as his cock twitches inside of you. He ruts into your spent pussy, pumping you full of his cum that will surely leak out of you just as promised.

Once he catches his breath, Jake pulls out of you and redresses his bottom half. You stay propped up against the counter trying to compose yourself while Jake picks your underwear off the floor. He tosses the article of clothing onto the counter before pulling off his baseball tee.

“Here. You should probably clean yourself up before you go back out there.” He extends the shirt out for you to take before reaching for the door. “I’ll see you around.”

“That’s it?” You ask, incredulous. Jake’s brows furrow as he gives you a quizzical look. “Are you kidding me?”

“What?”

“You can’t just fuck my brains out because you were jealous that I was dancing with Bradley and then not say anything. You’re the one who ignored me all night while you flirted with some other girl.”

“I am not jealous of Bradley.”

“Then what do you call what just happened?”

“It’s called hooking up, sugar. We do it all the time.”

“and now you’re just gonna leave?”

“There’s nothing to talk about. We’re not a couple. We can do whatever we want.” With that final remark, Jake walks back out to the party, still shirtless, leaving you alone in the bathroom to process what just happened.

[michdoodles]

Pfft, I don’t have time to find the og post without reblogs on it but I remember @thefantastician assigning sonic fans the homework of playing sonic adventure 2 by December 20th which happens to be next week as I’m posting and I am proud to say as of Wednesday night, I was finally able to get through crazy gadget and left off on Final Rush for hero story and Final Chase for dark story. (I also played through gamma’s story in Sonic adventure last night cuz that was the only story I had left in that game to unlock super sonic but left off at the boss fight against beta cuz he’s a bastard)

Kinda can’t wait to finish the game cuz I wanna get the randomizer mod and the mods where everybody is dressed as either Amy or Rouge

[suzukiblu]

happy wip wednesday!! i would love to see more of congrats its a metaweapon or weird kryptonian bonding rituals 💕

"Subject Match isn't your child, it's our weapon," Director Gamma says, looking dubious, which is an objectively correct statement but just makes that idiot Superboy growl again. Beta looks tense, curling her fingers in on themselves, and doesn't say anything.

The growling is a very, very strange sound.

----

Superboy is fast, fast enough that Clark has to actually try to keep up with him, and Clark feels an odd rush of ecstatic energy chasing after him. Superboy darts around an office building and loops his way up a skyscraper, and Clark could cut him off or intercept him, but watching him fly ahead excitedly is just . . . 

He just loves it. Superboy looks so happy, so pleased, so excited and delighted, and Clark . . . 

And Clark feels less strange and alone than he has in a long, long time.

[musicismymoirail]

wip wednesday (but a day late)

Thanks for the tag @autumnfangirler ! I have many too wips at the moment. :') Here's two ...snippets?? I guess?? First is some designs for a short comic about Vendetta arguing with nir Super-Ego and Id, as one does. I wanted them to have their own designs and I think they're quite cute. Maybe I can get another half-page down this weekend. ^^!

I love them, so much fun to draw and color~~ Second, words! From the next chapter of Gamma's silly story~~

"I think I'm gonna give them the Kiddie Kingdom." They were sitting outside of the Cappy Cafe, and Gamma was trying to shove a Fancy Lads snack cake into a bottle of Nuka-Something. He'd found a few old recipes laying around the different venues, and he was dead-set of trying them all. Or he was simply trying to make Gage vomit because the chunky concoction in the bottle right now was turning his stomach. "Any reason why?" It was nasty, and he covered his eyes as the bottle went to Gamma's lips. "They're children. It's fitting." Gamma said drolly, wiping his mouth and tugging down the gask mask again. Gage still hadn't seen his face, not entirely. Kid stripped fully and jumped into the Fizztop fountain during their Galactic Zone adventures, and Gage had caught a glimpse of Everything. Everything, except his face. The mask stayed even as Gamma dog-paddled naked around the man-made pond. …that actually might've explained the increase in propositions the Boss was getting.

Mhm. I'm not sure who to tag (need to make a tag-list again and I'm late, sorry) but @indecentpause @glitterdustcyclops (if y'all want to, no pressure!) and anyone else who'd like too. <33