#i just hope the rerun treats me well...

[momo-shut-the-fuck-up]

A successful anni i d say. I hope everyone s pulls went well. Happy anniversary everyone

[readsaboutreid]

Everything To Me | S.R.

summary: Spencer is in love with his coworker and best friend and goes all out to celebrate her birthday on the day after when she catches her boyfriend in bed with another woman when they arrive home from a case.

this is 100% season 1 spencer

warning: cheating, making out, angst/comfort

“(Y/N)! Wait up!” Spencer stumbled, tripping over his feet as he hurried to catch the elevator with his friend. He covered the distance from his desk to the elevator doors in record time as (Y/N) hit the button to presumably hold open the doors for him. He slid in and stood next to her while panting lightly. He really needed to do some cardio, he noted to himself.

“Wow, with speed like that I should start calling you Barry Allen,” she giggled, making Spencer's heart flutter in the best and most terrifying way and drawing a laugh out of his throat (even though he didn’t really get the reference). He couldn't help it when all he could think about was how much he wanted to hear that laugh every day for the rest of his life.

“Sorry,” he flashed a sheepish smile at her and ducked his head a little bit as he felt his cheeks heat up slightly.

“Hey, uh, I was wondering if you had any, uh, any plans for the evening? There’s a Star Trek: The Next Generation marathon and I know that’s your favorite Star Trek series so I was thinking maybe we could hang out and maybe get some takeout?"

"That sounds like it would be a hell of a time," she began. Spencer could already feel the incoming, "but I promised Warren I'd spend the evening with him since it's my birthday and all." Spencer had to keep himself from making a face at the mention of her asshole of a boyfriend, not wanting to upset her, and so instead he opted to skip over that and react to the next part of her statement.

"Wait it's your birthday? Why didn't you say anything? We all would have done something to celebrate before going home today," Spencer started kicking himself internally. How could he not have known today was her birthday? The two of them had become attached at the hip pretty much since she started at the BAU 4 months ago. She had even celebrated his own birthday with him and the rest of the team.

“Hey, it’s okay! You don’t need to feel bad or anything, I tend to just treat my birthday like it’s any other day so I often just don't even tell anyone when it is,” she shot him a sweet smile in an attempt to assure him that it was okay but it didn't make him feel any less guilty.

Spencer's heart sank a bit at the thought of not being able to celebrate (Y/N)'s birthday with her, but he knew Warren was important to her regardless of how much Spencer and the team disliked him. He mustered a smile and nodded, "No worries, spending time with Warren sounds great. Happy birthday, (Y/N). I hope your day is as wonderful as you are."

(Y/N) blushed at the compliment, waving it off modestly. The elevator dinged softly, indicating they had reached the ground floor. As the doors slid open, they stepped out into the bustling lobby of the FBI building. Spencer glanced at his watch and realized it was already late in the evening.

"Well, I should let you get going. Have a fantastic birthday night with Warren," Spencer said, trying to hide his disappointment behind a cheerful facade.

"Thank you, Spencer. I really appreciate it. We should definitely catch that Star Trek marathon another time," she replied with a warm smile before turning to head towards the exit.

Later in the evening, Spencer found himself sitting on his worn-out couch, a container of lukewarm Chinese takeout resting in his lap as he absentmindedly watched reruns of Star Trek. His mind kept wandering back to the encounter in the elevator with (Y/N) earlier that day. The missed opportunity to spend her birthday with her weighed heavily on his heart.

Just as Captain Picard was about to make a diplomatic decision that could change the course of an entire star system, Spencer's phone rang, jolting him out of his thoughts. He glanced at the screen to see (Y/N)'s name flashing brightly.

With a mixture of confusion and worry, he answered the call. "Hey, (Y/N), is everything okay?" His heart clenched at the sound of her quiet sobs on the other end of the line.

"Spencer," her voice cracked, "can you... can you come pick me up?"

Without another word, Spencer sprang into action. "Of course, (Y/N). I'll be right there. Where are you?" Spencer's voice was filled with concern as he quickly grabbed his keys and rushed out the door, leaving behind the half-eaten container of Chinese takeout and the flickering TV screen showing Star Trek.

As he drove through the quiet streets towards (Y/N)'s location, thoughts raced through Spencer's mind. Why was she crying? What had happened? He couldn't bear the thought of her in distress, especially on her birthday.

Finally reaching the spot where she said she would be, Spencer spotted (Y/N) sitting on a bench outside of a sketchy looking apartment complex, her head buried in her hands. He parked the car and hurried over to her, his heart breaking at the sight of her tear-streaked face.

"(Y/N), what's wrong?" Spencer knelt down beside her, gently placing a hand on her back. She looked up at him with red, puffy eyes, and he felt a crack in his chest

as her trembling voice filled the cool night air.

"I... I waited for Warren at my apartment, but he never showed up or called. I got worried and went to his place," she paused, taking a shuddering breath before continuing, "I let myself in with my key, and... and I found him in bed with another woman."

Shock rippled through Spencer as he struggled to process her words. The image of (Y/N) standing in the doorway of Warren's apartment, witnessing such a betrayal, tore at his heart. Anger flared within him, directed not only at Warren but at the unfairness of it all. How could someone as kind and genuine as (Y/N) be treated so callously?

Without hesitation, Spencer pulled (Y/N) into a tight embrace, offering her solace in the warmth of his arms. He felt her tears soak into his shirt as she clung to him, seeking comfort amidst the storm of emotions raging within her.

As she sobbed into his chest he felt tears pricking his own eyes. He gently cupped her head and started stroking her hair in an attempt to soothe her before saying, “let’s get you into the car, okay?”

As Spencer led (Y/N) to his car, he couldn't shake the image of her devastated face from his mind. The weight of her heartbreak hung heavy in the air, suffocating him with a sense of helplessness. He opened the car door for her, watching as she settled into the passenger seat with a heavy sigh.

"I'm so sorry, (Y/N)," Spencer murmured softly as he started the engine, casting a sympathetic glance her way. "You deserve so much better than this."

(Y/N) let out a bitter laugh, devoid of any humor. "I should have known better than to get my hopes up. This is why I never celebrate my birthday. It’s more trouble than it’s worth," she confessed, her voice laced with resignation and nothing more than a whisper by the very end. Spencer's heart clenched at her words. He wanted nothing more than to ease her pain, to show her that she deserved all the love and happiness in the world.

"You deserve to be celebrated, (Y/N)," Spencer said with conviction, his eyes meeting hers in the dim light of the car. "No one has the right to make you feel otherwise. You are kind, beautiful, and deserving of all the love and joy that life has to offer."

Spencer's words echoed in (Y/N)'s mind as they drove through the quiet streets of the city, the soft glow of streetlights casting a serene ambiance over the car. The heaviness of her heart began to lift ever so slightly, buoyed by the sincerity in Spencer's eyes and the comfort of his presence beside her.

As they reached a stoplight, Spencer turned to (Y/N) with a tentative smile. "How about we make a detour?" he suggested gently. "There's this little ice cream shop a few blocks away. Maybe some ice cream might help lift your spirits."

(Y/N) managed a small smile in return, touched by Spencer's thoughtfulness. The simple gesture felt like a ray of sunshine breaking through the storm clouds that had gathered around her heart. "That sounds nice," she replied softly, her voice still tinged with sadness but with a glimmer of gratitude shining through.

They parked near the ice cream shop, its cheerful neon sign beckoning them inside. The bell above the door jingled as they stepped in, greeted by the sweet scent of freshly made waffle cones and a colorful display of ice cream flavors. Spencer guided (Y/N) to a cozy booth by the window, where they could watch the world pass by as they indulged in their frozen treats.

As they savored their ice cream, the heaviness in (Y/N)'s heart began to thaw, melting away with each spoonful of creamy sweetness. Spencer listened attentively as she shared snippets of her favorite childhood memories, her voice soft and wistful against the backdrop of cheerful chatter from other customers.

Once they had finished their ice cream, Spencer suggested another detour. "There's this little vintage store down the street that always has some classic movies on sale. How about we pick up one of your favorites and head back to my place to watch it?��

(Y/N) hesitated before saying, “I don’t know about picking up anything from a store but is that Star Trek marathon still on?” The slight amount of hope in her voice made Spencer’s heart flutter with a mix of relief and warmth. He had been longing for a chance to make her smile, to see a glimmer of happiness light up her eyes once more.

Nodding enthusiastically, he replied, "Absolutely! We can swing by the store another time. For now, let's head straight to my place for that Star Trek marathon." The anticipation in (Y/N)'s eyes was palpable as they made their way to Spencer's cozy apartment. The familiar scent of old books and fresh laundry greeted them as they stepped inside, the soft glow of string lights casting a warm ambiance over the living room.

Spencer turned the TV back on, dimming the lights to create a cozy home-theater atmosphere. They settled on the couch, surrounded by plush pillows and soft blankets, basking in the nostalgic thrill of the sci-fi classic unfolding on the screen.

As the episode played on, Spencer got up and reheated the Chinese food from earlier and putting it on plates for each of them. He grabbed himself a fork and got one of the sets of chopsticks from the restaurant for (Y/N). As he made his way back to the living room he saw (Y/N) happily rocking back and forth as she watched Data and Geordi share another one of their intriguing engineering discussions. Spencer couldn't help but smile at the sight, a flicker of contentment lighting up his own heart as he handed (Y/N) the plate with her food and settled back onto the couch beside her.

Between bites of General Tso's chicken and sips of hot tea, Spencer couldn't help but feel a sense of peace settle over him. The soft glow of the TV cast shadows across the room, creating a cocoon of warmth and familiarity around them. The gentle hum of the spaceship's engines on screen seemed to lull them both into a comfortable silence, broken only by the occasional chuckle or comment about the characters.

After a few episodes, Spencer found himself stealing glances at (Y/N) out of the corner of his eye, admiring the soft curve of her profile as she watched intently. He could see a spark of joy in her eyes, a fleeting moment of escape from the weight of unspoken emotions that lingered between them. Sensing a rare moment of vulnerability, Spencer cleared his throat softly before turning to (Y/N) with a gentle smile.

"Hey, (Y/N)," he began, his voice soft and tentative. "I was wondering... If you could have done anything for your birthday today, what would it have been?"

(Y/N) paused, her gaze shifting from the screen to Spencer. Her expression softened as she considered the question, a faint blush dusting her cheeks. "You know, I've always wanted to visit the Smithsonian," she murmured, her eyes distant with longing. "And maybe the Botanic Gardens too... It's on my list of things to do someday."

Spencer nodded, committing her words to memory as he filed away the simple desires she shared. He made a mental note to himself, silently vowing to make those dreams a reality for her someday.

As they finished the last episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation, Spencer noticed the clock on the wall ticking closer to midnight. With a sense of reluctance, he turned to (Y/N) and said, "I hate to cut this short, but it's getting late. I should call a cab for you."

(Y/N) looked up at him, a mixture of disappointment and understanding in her eyes. She nodded quietly, gathering her things and slipping on her coat. As Spencer dialed for a cab, he couldn't shake off the feeling of missed opportunities hanging heavy in the air.

The subdued sound of the approaching cab echoed through the quiet street outside. Spencer opened the door for (Y/N), his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer than necessary. "I'll be picking you up at 11 am tomorrow so be dressed and ready," he said, surprising both himself and (Y/N) with his sudden declaration.

Confusion flashed across her face as she stammered, "But... why? Where are we going?"

"Just make sure you’re ready,” he smiled, ideas blossoming in his mind as he decided he was going to show her what her birthday meant to him. He closed the cab door behind her and waved as the car drove off before turning on his heel and heading back inside, preparing to show his best friend the time of her life tomorrow.

Spencer woke up at 8 am the next morning to the soft rays of sunlight filtering through the curtains, illuminating his room in a golden hue. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he stretched his arms above his head and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. Today was going to be special; he was determined to make it a day that (Y/N) would never forget.

Remembering her mention once that morning glories were her favorite flower, Spencer decided to start by weaving a delicate flower crown out of the vibrant blooms he had picked from his backyard garden. As he carefully intertwined the petals and vines into a crown fit for a queen, he couldn't help but smile at the thought of seeing (Y/N) wear it.

After finishing the flower crown, Spencer's thoughts drifted to a memory she had shared with him long ago. Before her parents had passed away, they used to build her a pillow fort and hang fairy lights in it on special occasions. Determined to recreate that sense of childhood magic for her, Spencer set about constructing a fort in his living room. He gathered every pillow and blanket he could find, stacking them strategically to form the walls of the fort. With a bit of effort and creativity, he managed to fashion an elaborate yet cozy hideaway filled with soft cushions and twinkling fairy lights. His PhD in Engineering was finally seeing some use.

As he stepped back to admire his handiwork, Spencer's heart swelled with a mix of emotions. The soft glow of the lights cast a warm, inviting aura over the fort, creating an atmosphere of whimsy and nostalgia. He could almost picture the look of wonder on (Y/N)'s face when she saw it, and the thought filled him with a sense of anticipation.

With the fort completed, Spencer glanced at the clock and realized it was almost time to pick up (Y/N). Quickly changing into a clean shirt and vest and grabbing the flower crown he had made earlier, he made his way out the door, excitement bubbling in his chest.

As he drove to (Y/N)'s apartment, Spencer's mind was a whirlwind of nerves and anticipation. He parked the car a few blocks away, wanting to give himself a moment to compose himself before their day together began. Taking a deep breath, he stepped out onto the sidewalk and started the short walk to her building.

The street was alive with the sounds of the city waking up - the distant hum of traffic, the chatter of early risers going about their day. But in Spencer's mind, all he could focus on was the image of (Y/N) in his mind, wearing the flower crown he had made for her.

Finally reaching her apartment building, he climbed the steps to her floor, his heart pounding in his chest. Standing in front of her door, he took one last deep breath before lifting his hand to knock.

The sound echoed through the hallway, reverberating in Spencer's ears as he waited with bated breath. After what felt like an eternity, he heard footsteps approaching from inside the apartment. The soft shuffling of footsteps grew louder, and Spencer's pulse quickened in anticipation. Suddenly, the gentle click of the door being unlocked filled the air, and it slowly swung open to reveal (Y/N) standing before him.

She looked breathtaking. (Y/N) was wearing a simple yet elegant dress with cute buttons lining the front and a delicate peter pan collar. Her chin length bob was slightly curved under her chin and her bangs fell across her forehead in such a perfect way and Spencer looked away quickly, his cheeks burning when he realized he was staring. For a moment, they stood there in silence, the air thick with unspoken words and emotions.

Then, Spencer slowly brought forward the flower crown he had hidden behind his back, holding it out towards (Y/N) with a shaky hand. “Happy birthday," he finally whispered, his voice barely above a breath as he nervously offered her the crown. The soft petals of the flowers brushed against her fingertips, and (Y/N)'s eyes widened in surprise and delight as she took the flower crown from Spencer's hand. A small gasp escaped her lips as she held the delicate creation, a mix of awe and gratitude shining in her eyes as she looked up at him.

"Spencer, it's beautiful," she murmured as she gently placed it atop her head, her voice soft with emotion. The sun was just beginning to rise, casting a golden glow that illuminated her features, making her look even more ethereal. In that moment, caught in the gentle morning light, Spencer felt a swell of affection for her that threatened to overwhelm him.

After a beat of silence filled with unspoken words hanging in the air between them, Spencer cleared his throat and offered a hesitant smile. "Are you ready to go?" he asked, his heart beating a little faster at the prospect of spending the day with her.

(Y/N) returned his smile with a nod, her eyes sparkling with anticipation as she looped her arm through his, the flower crown perched delicately on her head. They strolled down the bustling street, the city waking up around them with a cacophony of sounds and scents. Spencer couldn't help but steal glances at (Y/N), her presence beside him filling him with a warmth he hadn't felt before.

Their first stop was a cozy bookshop just across the street from her apartment building. The bell above the door chimed softly as they entered, and the scent of aged paper and ink enveloped them in a comforting embrace. Rows upon rows of books lined the shelves, each one whispering promises of new worlds and adventures.

"Pick out as many as you'd like," Spencer said, gesturing to the endless array of titles surrounding them. (Y/N)'s eyes widened in delight, a soft gasp escaping her lips as she wandered through the aisles, her fingers trailing over spines in search of stories. He watched as she made her way through the shelves until she reached the SciFi/Fantasy and Horror section and begin removing books from the shelves, reading the backs and either adding them to the stack in her arms or placing them back on the shelves.

Spencer couldn't help but admire the way (Y/N) immersed herself in the world of books, her eyes alight with a passion that made her even more enchanting. She moved with purpose, carefully selecting each book as if it held a piece of her soul within its pages. His heart swelled with fondness for her, her love for literature reflecting a depth to her character that he found endlessly captivating.

As (Y/N) returned back to him, her arms filled with a stack of books that seemed to reach towards the sky, she gave him a sheepish smile. "I might have gotten a bit carried away," she admitted, a hint of embarrassment coloring her cheeks. “Could you help me narrow things down a little bit?”

Spencer chuckled softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners in amusement. "No need to apologize. Let's see what treasures you've found," he said, reaching out to take a few books from her arms. Together, they perused the titles she had chosen, discussing the plots and themes. After they had no luck in narrowing down the pile, Spencer scooped them all up into his arms in a stack and began making his way to the checkout stand.

"Why bother narrowing it down?" Spencer's voice was filled with a playful lilt as he carried the stack of books towards the checkout counter, (Y/N) trailing behind him with a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

"Impressive selection," the bookstore clerk commented as he rung up the stack of books, each title a window into (Y/N)'s interests and desires. (Y/N) beamed at the compliment, her eyes shining with confusion and gratitude as Spencer pulled out his wallet and paid before she could even reach for her own from her bag.

As they left the bookshop, the sun had climbed higher in the sky, casting a warm glow over the crowded streets. The sounds of the city swirled around them—honking cars, lively chatter, and the distant rumble of a passing train. Spencer glanced over at (Y/N) walking beside him, her face illuminated by a soft radiance.

(Y/N) quickly unlocked the door and placed the bags of books onto her dining room table before they walked back outside. Spencer patiently waited as she locked her door before holding his arm out again for her to grab on to as he lead her to his car.

As they arrived at the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum, Spencer's steps were light with anticipation. The air was alive with the promise of discovery, and he couldn't wait to share this world of wonders with (Y/N). The museum loomed before them like a giant treasure trove, its grand architecture a testament to human ingenuity and ambition.

Stepping inside, they were greeted by a vast hall filled with aircraft suspended from the ceiling like metallic birds frozen in flight. (Y/N)'s eyes widened in awe, her gaze flitting from one exhibit to another as Spencer led her through the maze of history and innovation.

"This is the Wright Flyer," Spencer said, pointing towards the iconic biplane that started it all. "It's incredible to think that this simple machine paved the way for all modern aviation."

As they moved deeper into the museum, Spencer's voice became a gentle murmur of knowledge and passion. He regaled (Y/N) with stories of astronauts who dared to venture beyond Earth's atmosphere and the technological advancements that made it all possible. (Y/N) listened with rapt attention, her eyes shimmering with wonder and admiration for both the exhibits and the man beside her.

Each artifact held a story, a piece of history waiting to be unraveled. Spencer's explanations brought life to the static displays, turning them into vibrant tales of human courage and scientific progress. He pointed out the intricate details of each spacecraft, each spacesuit, each photograph, as if they were sacred relics in a grand temple of human achievement.

As they entered the lunar module exhibit, (Y/N) gasped in awe at the sight of the actual spacecraft that had touched the surface of the moon as well as a piece of rock from the moon that was free for visitors to touch. She reached out a hand as if to touch it, but stopped herself, as if afraid to disturb the fragile connection between past and present.

Spencer noticed her hesitation and smiled softly. "It's okay, you can touch it," he encouraged. "Feel the history in your fingers."

(Y/N) tentatively reached out and brushed her fingertips against the cool, pitted surface of the moon rock. A jolt of electricity seemed to pass through her as she made contact, connecting her to a distant world that had once seemed so unreachable. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, overwhelmed by the weight of history and the magnitude of human achievement.

Spencer watched her with a mix of admiration and fondness, his heart swelling with a bittersweet ache at the sight of her emotional response. He longed to reach out and comfort her, to share in this moment of vulnerability and connection, but he held back, knowing that some experiences were meant to be felt in solitude.

As they moved on to the space shuttle exhibit, Spencer's voice took on a reverent tone as he explained the intricacies of space travel and the courage of those who dared to venture into the unknown. (Y/N) listened intently, hanging onto his every word as if they were precious treasures. The stories of the astronauts and their daring adventures resonated with her in a way she couldn't quite explain. It was as if each tale of exploration and discovery tugged at something deep within her, awakening a yearning for the stars that had long been dormant.

After exploring the wonders of the cosmos in the Air and Space Museum, Spencer suggested they visit the Museum of Natural History next. (Y/N) eagerly agreed, her curiosity piqued by the promise of delving into the mysteries of the natural world.

The moment they stepped into the museum, a wave of earthy scents enveloped them—the musty aroma of ancient fossils, the fresh green fragrance of preserved plants, and the tangy scent of minerals. (Y/N) took a deep breath, savoring the rich tapestry of odors that surrounded her as they ventured deeper into the exhibits.

Spencer guided her through halls filled with towering skeletons of dinosaurs, exotic taxidermy specimens, and sparkling gemstones that seemed to whisper tales of ancient worlds and forgotten creatures. His voice, now a gentle hum of fascination, wove intricate stories of the natural wonders before them, each exhibit a chapter in the never-ending book of Earth's history.

With every step, (Y/N) felt herself being transported back in time, her senses overwhelmed by the sights, sounds, and scents of a world long gone yet preserved within the walls of the museum. She marveled at the sheer diversity of life that had once inhabited the planet, from the majestic bones of a towering T-Rex to the delicate wings of a butterfly frozen in time.

As they reached the Butterfly Pavilion, (Y/N)'s eyes lit up with childlike excitement. She walked among the lush greenery, her fingers gently trailing over velvety leaves and vibrant petals as she inspected each plant with keen interest. Spencer watched her with a soft smile, his admiration for her knowledge and passion shining in his eyes.

"It’s like stepping into a living kaleidoscope," (Y/N) breathed, her voice hushed with wonder. "Each butterfly and moth, every plant here tells a story of adaptation and survival. Look at this one," she gestured to a plump monarch butterfly sipping nectar from a bright orange bloom, "did you know they migrate for thousands of miles to escape the cold?"

Spencer was happy to listen intently to her spout knowledge that he already held, captivated by the gleam in her eyes and the animated gestures that accompanied each explanation. He found himself falling even more deeply under her spell as she shared her wealth of knowledge, her voice growing more animated with each tidbit of information.

As they wandered through the pavilion, (Y/N) pointed out the intricate patterns on the butterflies' wings, explaining their purpose and significance with a mix of scientific precision and unbridled enthusiasm. Spencer couldn't help but be swept up in her passion, feeling a warmth bloom in his chest at the sight of her so fully immersed in her element. Her rarely used PhDs in Botany and Microbiology shone brightly through her words and actions as she explained the importance of every living thing within the enclosure down to the network of fungal mycelium in the dirt, making Spencer see her in a whole new light. The way she spoke about each species of butterfly or moth, each plant or fungus they saw, showcased not only her expertise but also her deep love and respect for the natural world.

Spencer found himself hanging onto her every word, just as she had done with his tales of space exploration earlier. He admired the way her eyes sparkled with excitement, the way her hands gestured animatedly as if conducting a symphony of knowledge and wonder.

As they reached a secluded corner of the pavilion, (Y/N) knelt down beside a cluster of milkweed plants, her voice soft and reverent as she explained their importance to the monarch butterflies. Spencer watched her intently, a sense of peace settling over him as he observed her in her element. He then checked his watch, his eyes widening in realization as he saw the time. They were going to be late for the dinner reservation he had managed to secure at the new Italian restaurant (Y/N) had been longing to try for months. With a gentle touch on her shoulder, Spencer interrupted her explanation about the symbiotic relationship between the milkweed plants and monarch butterflies.

"(Y/N), as much as I hate to interrupt your fascinating lesson, we should start heading out. We have a dinner reservation," Spencer said apologetically, a hint of regret in his tone.

Startled by the mention of dinner, (Y/N) straightened up, her eyes widening in surprise before a sheepish smile crossed her face. "Oh gosh, I completely lost track of time! I'm so sorry, Spencer. Let's go."

They hurried through the Butterfly Pavilion, their steps quickening as they made their way to the exit. Spencer opened the passenger door for her as they approached his car, and they soon found themselves seated inside as Spencer started the engine. The warmth of the setting sun bathed the interior in a golden glow, casting long shadows across (Y/N)'s face as she fastened her seatbelt. She glanced over at Spencer, her eyes shining with a mix of excitement and anticipation for the evening ahead.

The drive to the Italian restaurant was filled with comfortable silence, the only sound the soft hum of the radio playing a mellow jazz tune in the background. Spencer stole glances at (Y/N) from time to time, admiring how the fading light accentuated her features, casting her in a soft, ethereal glow.

Arriving at the restaurant, they were greeted by the tantalizing aroma of garlic and tomato sauce wafting through the air. The cozy ambiance of the place enveloped them as they were led to their table, nestled in a corner with a flickering candle casting dancing shadows on their faces.

As they perused the menu, (Y/N)'s eyes widened in delight as she scanned the offerings, her excitement palpable. Spencer couldn't help but smile at her enthusiasm, feeling a warmth in his chest that had nothing to do with the romantic candlelight surrounding them. This moment, this simple act of sharing a meal with her, felt like a glimpse into the life he had always wanted but never dared to reach for.

Their conversation flowed effortlessly, filled with laughter and shared stories. (Y/N)'s eyes sparkled with joy as she recounted a hilarious mishap at work, and Spencer found himself hanging onto her every word once again. It was moments like these that made him forget about his own worries and fears, immersing himself in the present moment.

As the waiter brought out their food, the table was soon filled with plates of steaming pasta and fragrant sauces. The first bite sent a burst of flavors dancing on (Y/N)'s tongue, and she couldn't help but close her eyes in bliss. Spencer watched her savor each mouthful, her expression a symphony of delight and contentment. The flickering candlelight played on her face, accentuating the curve of her smile and the sparkle in her eyes.

Spencer's gaze lingered on her, a sense of longing tugging at his heart. He wanted to freeze this moment in time, to etch it into his memory forever. The warmth of the restaurant, the soft glow of the candle, the sound of (Y/N)'s laughter – all of it wove together into a tapestry of perfect happiness.

But beneath the surface of their shared joy, Spencer felt a pang of bittersweet realization. This was just a moment, a fleeting interlude in their lives. Tomorrow, they would return to their separate paths, their separate dreams.

As (Y/N) reached for her glass of wine, her hand brushed against his, sending a jolt of electricity through him. Their eyes met, and in that brief moment of connection, Spencer felt a surge of courage wash over him. As they finished their meals, the waiter returned to their table with a flourish, presenting a tray of decadent desserts that Spencer had secretly ordered while (Y/N) was in the bathroom. A smile played on his lips as he watched her eyes widen in surprise and delight at the unexpected treat.

"Spencer, you didn't have to do this," she murmured, her voice soft with gratitude.

"It's my pleasure," he replied, his tone gentle yet tinged with a hint of nervousness. "Would you like to enjoy it here or take it to go and eat it while watching something?"

(Y/N) hesitated for a moment, her gaze flickering between the cozy restaurant ambiance and the promise of a quiet moment elsewhere. After a brief pause, she decided, "Let's take it to go."

Spencer nodded in agreement and politely requested the bill. As he settled the payment, a sense of resolve settled in him, guiding his actions as they left the restaurant. The cool night air caressed their skin as they walked towards Spencer's car parked just around the corner. He opened the passenger door for her, a gesture that was both chivalrous and intimate.

As they drove through the city streets, (Y/N) couldn't shake off the feeling of curiosity that gnawed at her mind. Why were they headed to Spencer's apartment instead of hers, as she had anticipated? Her thoughts raced, trying to find an explanation for this unexpected turn of events.

Upon arriving at his apartment building, Spencer handed her the to-go boxes with their desserts before unlocking the door. A sense of bewilderment washed over (Y/N) as she followed him inside. Before she could voice her confusion, Spencer moved behind her and gently covered her eyes with his hands, guiding her further into his apartment.

The faint scent of his cologne lingered in the air as (Y/N) let herself be led by Spencer through the dimly lit hallway. Her heart raced with a mix of anticipation and curiosity, her trust in him unwavering as he guided her with careful steps. The soft shuffle of their feet echoed in the corridor, creating a rhythm that seemed to match the beat of her own pulse.

After what felt like an eternity of darkness behind her closed eyelids, Spencer's hands finally left (Y/N)'s eyes, revealing a mesmerizing sight before her. As she blinked away the temporary blindness, a gasp escaped her lips at the magical scene that unfolded in front of her.

The room was transformed into a whimsical wonderland – an elaborate pillow fort stretched across the space, twinkling with fairy lights that cast a warm, inviting glow. Soft blankets cascaded down like waterfalls, creating nooks and crannies that held the promise of cozy comfort. The air was scented with old books, eucalyptus, and lavender, adding to the ethereal atmosphere that surrounded them.

Spencer watched (Y/N) with bated breath as she took in the sight before her. The flickering lights danced across her face, illuminating the awe and wonder reflected in her eyes. It was a moment frozen in time, suspended between reality and a dream.

"Happy birthday, (Y/N)," Spencer's voice was barely a whisper, filled with a vulnerability that he had never dared to show before.

Tears welled up in (Y/N)'s eyes, moved by the effort and thoughtfulness he had put into creating this enchanting surprise. She turned to face him, her heart overflowing with emotions she struggled to put into words.

"Spencer, this is... it's perfect," she finally managed to say, her voice trembling with emotion. She reached out to grasp his hand, holding onto it as though afraid this magical moment would slip away if she let go.

As they settled into the cocoon of blankets and pillows, Spencer grabbed his laptop from his desk and popped a DVD into the disc player. The opening to a movie he had never seen but had heard her talk about multiple times, Clueless, played in the background but all he could do was look at her. Under the twinkling of the fairy lights he could almost swear she had to be a fairy herself. That’s the only thing he could think of that would explain her beauty.

As the movie played on (Y/N) explained to Spencer that it was actually an adaptation of her favorite novel by Jane Austen, Emma, which did little to make him feel the main character was more likeable but watching her happily chatter about the movie filled him with a sense of comfort and affection. This is how it should always be, he thought to himself, wrapping his arms around her as she settled against his chest.

They sat and cuddled in a comfortable silence until it was broken by her voice, soft and timid as she said, “hey Spence?”

“Hm?” He hummed into her hair, his eyes closed.

“Why did you do all of this?” She queried, sounding like she was on the verge of tears, which immediately pulled Spencer from his half asleep haze.

Spencer thought about his next words carefully, taking so long that (Y/N) was about to ask if he had fallen asleep before he finally responded. “After seeing you so heartbroken last night and seeing how Warren just tossed you aside like you didn’t matter I just felt like I should show you how much it means to me that you exist." His voice was gentle, barely a whisper as he confessed the depth of his feelings for her.

(Y/N) felt her breath catch in her throat at his words. The vulnerability in his voice touched her heart in a way she had never experienced before. She turned to look into his eyes, seeing the sincerity and care reflected back at her.

Tears glistened in her eyes as she reflexively leaned into his hand as he reached to cup her cheek, caressing it with a tenderness that spoke volumes. "Spencer," she murmured, her voice filled with emotion, "you didn’t have to—I’m not worth all this—I-I don’t—"

He placed a finger on her lips, silencing her words. "That’s what I’ve spent all day trying to show you, (Y/N). You are worth it. You are worth everything to me," he whispered, his gaze unwavering.

In that moment, (Y/N) felt a rush of emotions swell within her, a mix of disbelief and overwhelming gratitude. Her heart pounded in her chest as she gazed into Spencer's eyes, seeing a depth of love and sincerity that she had never expected to find. The weight of his words hung heavy in the air, wrapping around them like a warm embrace.

As they sat there, suspended in time, (Y/N) felt a gentle tug at her heart urging her to lean forward. She hesitated for a moment, uncertainty clouding her mind as she debated the implications of such a gesture. Could she allow herself to be vulnerable again after everything she had been through? Was it worth risking her heart for the possibility of something more?

But before she could overthink it any further, Spencer's gaze softened even more as he leaned in towards her. In the briefest moment of hesitation, his lips hovered centimeters away from hers, silently asking for permission. And just as he began to pull back, (Y/N) plunged forward, closing the distance between them as she pressed her lips against Spencer's. It was a tender, tentative kiss filled with all the unspoken words and emotions that had lingered between them for so long. The world seemed to stand still as they shared this intimate moment, their hearts beating in harmony.

Spencer was momentarily stunned by the sudden turn of events, but as he felt (Y/N)'s warmth against his lips, all doubts and insecurities melted away. When they finally pulled away, they were both met with flushed cheeks and wide eyes. There was a charged energy in the air, a newfound connection that sparked between them like a flame igniting in the darkness.

"(Y/N)," Spencer whispered, his voice barely above a breath as he searched her eyes for confirmation.

(Y/N) simply smiled, a radiant expression that lit up her face with joy and relief. “I love you, Spencer,” falls from her lips before she crashes them back against his.

[another-goblin]

Dr. Ratio's fate

I'll be a downer for a minute, but I feel a worrying trend in how the game treats Dr. Ratio as a character. He holds a uniquely unfortunate position (at least from my point of view as his fan).

His introductory mission was well done. It told us about his personal philosophy, methods, and life goals, although it wasn't about him technically, and he didn't pursue any personal goals.

His appearance on Penacony was very much appreciated too, but it wasn't about him in any way at all. The only reason he was there was Aventurine. His philosophy, values, and personality didn't factor into it at all and weren't elaborated on. The only new thing it told us about him is that he really cares about Aventurine. Which isn't insignificant, but, in his own words, he was just a "supporting character."

Then we met him on the Radiant Feldspar working on the Divergent Universe with Screwllum.

And then he dared to appear for a day on Amphoreus and was apparently grounded for that. Probably forever.

Despite kind of taking on the role of a mentor for the Trailblazer, he isn't shown talking about us with Herta and Screwllum on the Feldspar (despite presumably being there working on the DU).

BTW, I kind of expected him to be somewhat connected to the Genius Society's shenanigans through Screwllum, but no.

And, although the Trailblazer knows that DU is Screwllum's project together with Dr. Ratio, he's nowhere to be seen in our "pirated" version of DU (that's basically based on our memory of the real DU from what I understand). Why can't we even have memories of him? Why do we instead remember Ruan Mei being involved with DU?

So what's left for him to do in the game?

He's a member of an insignificant fraction that's mostly treated as a butt of a joke in the story. He's the only playable (or vaguely important) member of it.

He isn't involved in any ongoing plotline.

He doesn't have any personal goals to achieve or conflicts to resolve.

He doesn't belong to a major known world, so there are no chances to see him in a world-themed event.

His only remaining meaningful connection with another character (Aventurine) seems to be functionally one-sided. I wouldn't mind seeing Aventurine helping Ratio in return, but he has more interesting and important things to do in the story. So that's not going to happen.

And helping with what? Giving away free textbooks?

The closest character (in terms of being removed from everything that's going on in the game) I can think of is Argenti, but even he kind of has a personal goal of searching for Idrila. And he just appears everywhere. I half expected to see him on Amphoreus (but yeah speaking of Argenti I kind of worry about him too btw).

The best thing for Dr. Ratio I can hope for is that he continues to appear from time to time in small random events, following his role as an absolute "narrative orphan" and a self-proclaimed "support character".

So the future looks kind of grim for his fans, I'm afraid. (I've been swipe typing this, and it wrote "fun" instead of "grim" in the last sentence. Please be a sign!)

Seems like a waste of an interesting character.

upd. By the way, his first rerun might be his last if I understand this new "pseudo standard character pool" thing correctly. The 3 characters they'll add to it in 3.2 aren't going to rerun anymore, right? And they'll probably continue to add new characters. They'll probably add Ratio much sooner than he'd have his second rerun. Correct me if I'm wrong, though. I'm not sure about this one.

[lisupandowntown]

The Break, Part II

A/N: special thanks to @writing-whump for listening to me babble instead of going up to bed earlier. Hope you enjoy this when you wake up later. Also, you convinced me to write a short ficlet with Rory's POV before I get to my plan for Adam to catch the bug next and be a little bitch because - Avery.

“What do you mean, you left Rory?”  Gabe stared at his sister in confusion.  “Where’d you leave him?”  It was 7 pm on a Monday night and normally Gabe wouldn’t even be home from work yet.  But Logan had texted him earlier that she was tired and going home and on a whim Gabe had decided to leave with her and finish working from his apartment.  Now Logan was curled up under a big blanket on his sofa drowsily watching reruns of Modern Family and Gabe was making them gluten free grilled cheese in his new panini press.  Or, he had been making gluten free grilled cheese until Noa texted that she was in the lobby and needed to come up.

Now she was standing in the doorway, her announcement lingering in the air along with the smell of his neighbor’s Italian takeout. The elevator dinged and Noa jumped, her eyes dragging back the direction she’d come.  A woman talking on a cellphone got off and walked briskly down the hall in the opposite direction.  Noa sagged but made no other effort to move. 

“Well come in, then.”  Gabe grabbed his sister’s arm and pulled her inside his apartment.  Now that he could see Noa properly he thought she looked terrible.  Not only terrible, though - shell shocked. And as soon as she started telling them what had happened, Gabe understood why.  

The part about Rory not wanting her to work with a group of drug addicts wasn’t surprising.  He hadn’t been exactly quiet about wanting to keep Noa the hell away from Damian Smith.  Her working with an entire group of Smiths? There was no way Rory would be voluntarily okay with that. 

And of course Noa wanted - even insisted-  that she was going to treat that group.  They needed a lot of help and his sister was going to give it.  Gabe privately wondered if it was Noa’s way of proving she was okay, by helping the kind of people who’d hurt her.  

So none of that was a surprise.  But Rory putting his foot down and Noa walking out?  Gabe had no words for how he felt about that.  And apparently neither did Noa. Sure, words spilled out of her mouth in a singsong stream, but it was clear she had no idea what she meant to say.

“I shouldn’t have left; I shouldn’t have left; I shouldn’t have.  I should have just . . . what? What should I have . . . What? Done? Should’ve talked more?” She stuttered and paced and looked pleadingly at him and Logan.

“What did you . . “ Gabe began, and then stopped, unsure of what he wanted to tell her.  Noa kept babbling as if he’d not spoken.

“But I don’t know what I could have said that would change his . . . I mean, he wanted me to be the one to . . .and I couldn’t.  I just couldn’t.  Not just because it’s my job, but this group . . .”  She finally stopped walking and looked back and forth between Gabe and Logan.  “I really want to work with them.”

Gabe locked eyes with his girlfriend.  So far he’d only understood about half of what his sister was saying and he hoped Logan would have a better question to ask.  Preferably one that didn’t imply that Noa had made some monumental mistake by walking out.  Rory too, for that matter, for letting her go.  What the hell had he been thinking?

“Did he . . .hic . . . ‘scuse me,” Logan began.  She rubbed roughly at her chest and worked up a soft burp.  

Gabe’s phone dinged and Noa froze.  “Is that . . .” 

“Rory, yeah.”  The message - is she there - said he already knew the answer.  “What should I tell him?”  

“Tell him . . .”  Noa grabbed at her face for a second.  “What should I tell him?”  She looked at Logan for an answer.  “I mean, he should know where I am at least, right?  So he doesn’t worry?” 

Logan nodded slowly.  “At least that,” she agreed. “And then . . .umm . . .” Her stomach gurgled suddenly and she palmed her side.  Gabe jumped up.

“You’re hungry.  Hold on and I'll finish the grilled cheese.”  It was something to do while he tried to get his head around the fact that his sister was standing here in his living room and she’d just walked out on Rory when Gabe barely knew how to think of them other than as a single unit.  

“It’s okay, go ahead and . . . ahem . . . text Rory back first.”  Logan cleared her throat with a harsh cough.  

“What do I say?”  Gabe didn’t know if he was asking his girlfriend or his sister.  He felt supremely out of his element.  Noa was pacing again and seemed to be waiting for one of them to make a decision.  So he turned to the sofa.

“Lo?  What should I say?” He figured she’d know; she was an expert at figuring out relationship stuff with him, after all.  But instead of telling him what to do, Logan just shrugged.  

“Maybe, umm . . . hiccurrRP!”  Logan’s body jumped with a deep hiccup that turned into a kind of a burp at the end.  She blew out a breath.  “Tell him she’s here,” I guess.”  Her eyes darted around the room.  “D’you know where my sparkling water is?” 

Gabe went to his refrigerator to get Logan a new can of LaCroix just as his phone dinged a second time.  “He texted again,” he told his sister. 

“Tell him I’m here, and I’m okay.”  Noa wrung her hands together.  “Or not that I’m okay . . . maybe just that I’m staying here tonight; is that all right?”

Gabe automatically looked at his girlfriend.  It was his apartment, sure, but she’d left work early because she was tired and he knew she’d been looking forward to a quiet night. Which this clearly wasn’t going to be.  His phone started ringing.  

“Fuck.”  Noa stared at the screen, where Rory’s name and photo were now flashing.  “What should you . . ?”

“Don’t answer but text . . . hrrup . . . text him back,” Logan ordered through another hiccup.  Gabe looked at his sister for confirmation.  After a second she gave a small nod.

“Tell him I can’t talk right now,” she said quietly.  

Feeling like an absolute ass, Gabe disconnected the call and sent Rory the text.  Almost immediately his screen began lighting up with words, the ding ding ding of incoming messages sounding too loud in the otherwise quiet room. 

“I’m surprised he’s not texting you too,” he told his sister. Her lips tightened.  

“I turned off my phone on my way here,” she admitted.  “I . . . I didn’t want to see.”  Her eyes darted to Gabe’s phone and then just as quickly away.  “What’s he . . .no.” She shook her head. “D-don’t tell me.”  

And then, right there, Noa began to crumble.  “Oh god, I shouldn’t have left.”   She whirled around and looked back and forth between Gabe and Logan.  “It was a mistake, wasn’t it? I should have stayed, and should have made him . . .what? Talk?  We could have talked more, right?” she pleaded.   But instead I just . . .”  

Tears were dripping down her cheeks now, disappearing into the collar of her sweatshirt.  Her words came out in choking gasps as she got more worked up.  “I . . .I. . . panicked.  I just . . . and he was . . . and fuck, he wasn’t even feeling well.”  She drew in a deep, shuddering breath and stared at both of them, horrified.  “He had an upset stomach - indigestion - and I . . . I walked out on him.  I fucking walked out on him while he was sick!”  Noa collapsed in a chair and buried her head in her hands, beginning to cry in earnest.  

Gabe looked helplessly at Logan.  To be honest, he’d expected his girlfriend to be more invested in the situation. There was an odd frown on her face, as if she’d smelled something bad and was trying to figure out where it was coming from.  And he still hadn’t gotten her dinner.  

“Let me get your grilled cheese; then we can figure this out.”  Noa was still crying and Gabe’s phone was still dinging with texts and right now feeding his girlfriend felt like the only thing he knew how to do. So he ran off to the kitchen to escape the feeling that the world was tilting.

After putting the sandwiches back in the panini press to warm, he finally dared to look at a few of Rory’s messages.  There were 23 of them and from Gabe’s first look it sounded like Rory was in a very similar state as his girlfriend.  I shouldn’t have let her leave . . . I just can’t believe . . . but I don’t know what to tell her; I hate the thought of her . . . was puking so I couldn’t even go after her.

Gabe was certainly not going to tell his sister that Rory had actually gotten sick over her leaving. He was about to text him back - something simple that would hopefully not escalate things any further - when he got a text from Avery.  

AMorrison: I’m going to Rory; you’re good with Noa?  Not sure if I’m going to smack him or let him cry on my shoulder.

Gabe let out a shaky exhale and responded.  About the same here. I don’t know what to think. He started to type more but then stopped.  Morrison was a really good guy, but still, Gabe didn’t know him that well.  Definitely not well enough to pour out his own worry and frustration about his best friend and his sister.  So instead he added a keep me posted and then quickly sent two other texts. 

Back in the living room, Noa had mostly stopped crying.  She was sniffling and grasping her phone so that Gabe knew she was trying to decide whether to turn it back on.  Logan was still curled up on the sofa and when Gabe put a plate with the grilled cheese on the coffee table in front of her, she gave a small grimace.

“I’m actually feeling a little . . . queasy,” she confessed quietly. Her body jolted with a soft hiccup.  “Don’t really want to eat anything.”  

“Oh no, sweetheart.”  Now that Gabe looked closer, he realized Logan was pale and clammy looking.  It was a little more than a week since he’d had the stomach flu, but Drew and Rory had been sick since then too.  He rested his hand on Logan’s cheek.  “Do you want to go lie down?  There wasn’t much to do besides ride out the illness but maybe she could sleep through some of it.

Logan delicately shook her head.  “I’d better . . . stay,” she gulped, glancing at Noa.  “But can you get rid of . . . this?” She gestured weakly at the plate Gabe had just put down.

“Shit, yeah, hold on.” He picked up the grilled cheese.  “Do you want another LaCroix?”  

“No; I’m already too full.”  Logan wrapped the blanket more tightly around her.  “Gonna try to help your sister; maybe it’ll distract me.”  As if to prove her point, Logan carefully slid down to the other end of the sofa next to where Noa was on the loveseat - blanket and all.  

“How are you doing?” she asked the other girl carefully.  Gabe could hear the nausea in his girlfriend’s voice. He wished he could take her to bed but to be honest, he wasn’t sure how to deal with his sister by himself at the moment.  Part of him wanted to grab Noa and drag her back to Rory.  Force the two of them to figure it out while he came back here to take care of his sick girlfriend.  Rory and Noa never fought; it couldn’t be that hard for them to continue to not fight right now.

Logically, Gabe knew it didn’t work like that.  But it didn’t stop him from wishing it would.

He was dumping his and Logan’s sandwiches in the trash when the buzzer rang at his door. Thank fucking god. 

Adam barely acknowledged Gabe.  “She in the living room?” he asked briskly before striding into the apartment and right up to Noa as if he was her personal life manager and relationship god.  And for all Gabe knew, that might be one of his areas of expertise.  Adam’s ego was huge, but the guy actually did know a lot about a lot.  Maybe he would know how to put Noa and Rory back together.

But instead of insisting that Noa suck it up and go back home to talk things out with her boyfriend, Adam dumped his coat on a chair and sunk down onto the loveseat next to her. “You did the right thing; Rory was overreacting.” Adam grabbed both of her hands.  

Gabe had no idea how his brother already knew what was going on; the text he’d sent had had the barest details.  But he seemed all caught up. Noa sniffled.

“He’s just worried,” Noa protested weakly.  “I . . . I shouldn’t have just dumped it on him like that.  I should have realized he’d . . .”

“Hey now, no blaming yourself.”  Adam took Noa’s cheeks in his hands and forced her to look at him.  “Rory’s a big boy and a fucking FBI agent, right? He’s more than capable of understanding that you’re not in danger.  Whether chooses to recognize that or not is his own problem, not yours.” 

“It’s . . . it’s our problem,” Noa sniffed. “I knew he was still upset about everything with Damian Smith.  I should have guessed how he’d react.  I could have handled it so differently.” Her face twisted.  “We could have talked more, instead of my walking out.  What the fuck was I thinking?”  Her voice broke and she began crying fresh tears. 

Personally, Gabe agreed with her, but Adam rolled his eyes in Gabe’s direction.  It was a look the two of them had shared probably hundreds of times when they were younger, whenever Rory and Noa were being just too . . . Rory and Noa for them to deal with.  But Gabe couldn’t remember any time it had been because the couple was in a fight.  Usually Rory would be ridiculous and overprotective and Noa would lean into it and let him, and everyone else would give them shit.  

Noa made a sudden, convulsive gesture.  “Give it back, Adam,” she growled, and Gabe saw that he’d taken her phone and was holding it out of reach.  

Adam shook his head.  “Not if you’re going to read all his whiny, pleading texts and want to go running back there.  Here, catch.”  He tossed the phone in Gabe’s direction.  

Gabe jerked to the side and barely caught it before it landed on the coffee table.  “A little warning next time,” he groused.  At some point Noa had turned it back on and it vibrated in his hand.  Before he could help it, he read the words that popped up on her lock screen. Please Noe, please just talk to me - I can’t stand this.  

Noa caught him looking. “What’s it say? He’s all alone; please let me respond to him.” Noa raised herself halfway off the sofa and Adam pulled her back down with a chiding don’t even try it.

“Avery’s there,” Gabe answered distractedly.  There had been a sudden quiet burp from the sofa and he was more focused on that and the way the pile of blankets wrapped around his girlfriend jumped. 

“Of fucking course he’s there.”  Adam’s voice was bitter but Gabe ignored his siblings and sat down next to Logan..  “How are you feeling?” he asked softly, wrapping his arms around her.  This close, he could hear her gulp down before she answered.  “Nauseous,” she muttered.  “But hanging in there.”  Her eyes flicked to Adam and Noa.  “Don’t give her the . . . urhp . . . phone yet.” 

“Why can’t I have my phone?” Noa turned her attention away from Adam.  “C’mon Logan, I figured you’d be on my side.”

“I . . . hic . . . I am.  I am on your side.”  Logan exhaled a shaky breath.  “If you go running back to Rory tonight what’ll happen?”  She hiccuped again and rubbed her chest.  

Noa sighed, apparently too caught up in her own misery to notice Logan’s.  “I’d probably give in,” she agreed.  “But maybe that’s . . . “

“Stop right there,” Adam commanded.  “You were about to say that maybe that’s for the best and if you do, I’m going to have to smack you.” 

“Who’s smacking who now?”  Gabe hadn’t even heard Jeremiah come in but suddenly there he was in the living room.  The man caught his eye and gave a tiny shake of his head.  Rory was in bad shape. Gabe grimaced to himself, relieved Avery was over there at least. He didn’t want to think about what his best friend was going through right now, although he had a fairly good idea.  Gabe was going to support his sister, of course, but unlike Adam, he didn’t believe that meant leaving Rory high and dry.  They’d been best friends for over twenty years,  and no matter what he’d said to Noa, Gabe refused to believe that Rory had meant it.

Noa got up from her seat and threw herself into Jeremiah’s arms. “Did I make a mistake?” she asked him, sounding miserable  “He told me he didn’t want me to go to work tomorrow and I just . . . lost it..”  She pulled on Jeremiah’s sweater.  “I knew he was upset about Smith but never thought that meant he’d . . .Did you have any idea?” 

Jeremiah shook his head.  His eyes had flicked to Logan while Noa was speaking and then over to Gabe.  Gabe mouthed I got her, and gestured him to answer his sister.  

“I’m not entirely surprised at Rory’s reaction, but mostly because I’ve been watching you for the past weeks, sweetheart.”  Jeremiah walked Noa back to the sofa and then sat down on the coffee table so he was facing both her and Logan. “You haven’t liked how worried he’s been - unreasonably worried - and it’s made you . . . well at the courthouse it made you sick.”  

“Noa got sick?” Gabe was startled.  “When?”  Did Rory know?”

“Of course he didn’t know,” Noa answered impatiently.  “He was already wound so tightly; do you think I was going to tell him it was making me nauseous?”  She shook her head.  “I didn’t like feeling like Smith was going to be constantly looking over my shoulder; like I had to be scared and cautious all the time.”  Her voice grew softer.  “And . . . Rory . . . he made me feel like I did.”  

The confession had obviously been a lot.  Noa dropped her head in her hands and started to cry again.

“He shouldn’t,” Adam said roughly.  He scooted over to put his arm around his sister.  “He shouldn’t have made you feel like that.” 

“I don’t know if he realized,” responded Jeremiah mildly, and Gabe was relieved he’d said so.  The doctor’s eyes flickered back to Logan and rested there for a longer moment.  She’d started burping softly under her breath and Gabe wasn’t sure if they were involuntary or she was forcing them up on purpose.  

“Not feeling so hot, sweetheart?” he asked, reaching forward to cup Logan’s cheeks. “Have you vomited?”  

Noa looked startled.  “You’re sick?” She turned and for the first time seemed to really see Logan clearly.  “Shit, you’re white as a sheet; why didn’t you say something?” 

Logan gave a small shrug.  “You . . .uhhlp . . . had a lot going on,” she finished weakly, fingers against her lips.  She gagged slightly and then looked around the room.

Gabe knew what she needed.  “Here.”  He shoved the cup of water he’d been drinking from into her hand.  “Spit in this and then I’m taking you to the bathroom.”  

“Good idea,” agreed Jeremiah.  “And while I’m confident in your ability to comfort your girlfriend while she throws up, I’d be a terrible excuse for a doctor if I didn’t come with you.”  He stood up and held out his hand to Logan  “We’ll take it slow.”

Noa stood up too.  “And I’m already a terrible excuse for a friend because I didn’t even notice.”  Her voice sounded more determined than it had since she’d arrived.  “I’m coming too.” 

“You don’t . . . UrrRHRUP . . . have to,” panted Logan through a thick, wet burp.  “Oh god,” she moaned.  “I hate the stomach flu.”  

Jeremiah chuckled  “Drew said the same thing when he had it.  C’mon now.”  Gabe got on Logan’s other side and helped her slowly shuffle down the hall.

“Well hell, if everyone else is going to camp out in the bathroom I guess I will too.”  Adam stood up and followed the group.  

In his arms, Logan gave a queasy chuckle.  “I’ve never had such a big . . . hic . . . audience for puking.”  

“As long as you don’t mind,” Gabe told her.  Logan shook her head.  “I think it’s good for . . . urrp . . . Noa.”  After she finished with the burp she glanced back where the other woman was following them.  Noa nodded.

“I’m not going home tonight,” she announced grimly.  “I may as well be useful here.”  

Gabe wasn’t sure what had changed his sister’s attitude but she seemed to have come to some sort of decision and didn’t look quite so weepy now.  His own stomach clenched and the question - you’re not breaking up, right? - hovered on his lips.  He shook the thought away.  Of course they weren’t, he told himself.  Don’t be ridiculous, Gabriel. 

But he had no more time to think about that.  Logan had put on pajamas earlier when they’d first gotten home but now she tugged at the waistband of her pants, pushing it down over the swell of her tummy.  “Fuck I’m bloated,” she groaned, lowering herself to the floor of the bathroom. “Any chance I can puke once and then go to sleep?”  

“R-Rory threw up all night when he had it.”  Some of the determination had leached back out of Noa’s tone again.  Her mouth twisted.  “He was pretty miserable; I’m sorry.”  She looked like she wanted to say something else and Gabe saw her eyes darting around.  Probably looking for her phone.  He’d left it on the coffee table and made a mental note to get it again as soon as Logan was feeling a little better.

Because for now she clearly wasn’t.  Jeremiah had knelt down behind her and now he helped her up to her knees so she could retch over the bowl.  Gabe dropped down on her other side and began rubbing her back.  “It’s okay, sweetheart,” he soothed.  “I’ve got you.”  

There was a sudden, harsh cry behind him but Gabe wasn’t in a position to deal with his sister right then because Logan took that moment to begin throwing up.  Vaguely through the sounds of her sickness he could hear Adam’s voice.  Hopefully comforting Noa and not winding her up.  

Logan was shaking and Gabe took the wet washcloth Jeremiah handed him and began wiping her face in between heaves.  

“Why’m I still so nauseous?” she groaned, spitting inelegantly into the bowl and then reaching up a shaky hand to flush.  

“That’s the virus,” explained Jeremiah. “Here, rinse your mouth but don’t swallow; you’re not ready yet.”

“No shit,” grumbled Logan.  A gross, wet burp came up and she hauled herself back over the toilet to gag.  

“Sorry if any of you get this,” apologized Gabe.  “What is she, number four?” 

“I’ve been exposed so many times already I’m probably immune,” chuckled Adam.  “And no, Noa, I’m not giving you your phone back.”

Gabe twisted around.  “When did you. . .?” he began, then stopped.  “Actually, I don’t care.”  Logan was whimpering in between empty gags and sounding completely miserable.  Gabe knew exactly how she felt.  “Are you almost ready to lie down?” he asked.  

Logan spit again.  “Yes please.”  She slumped into his side.  “S-s-sorry I couldn’t help more, Noa,” she rasped.  “But yeah.  Stay here.  Sorry if you end up puking.”  

Noa gave a watery chuckle.  “Wouldn’t be the worst thing that happened to me today. Not by a mile.”

[broareweabouttoviberightnow]

i'm absolutely in love with the tim doing johnny's locs concept, immediate follow

AOUGH!! You actually have perfect timin cause I JUST finished this fic!! I hope ya like it!!! (as a lil treat for bein real sweet!!)

Whatta ya want, Cade?" Tim stands in the doorway, leanin' against the frame 'n blockin' his way in. Not that it's personal. Just a habit you pick up from livin' in a rough part a town long enough. "You only ever show up when you want somethin'."

Johnny tucks back a stray loc absently into his hood, shivers, 'n wraps his jacket tighter around his shoulders. "Runs in the neighborhood."

"Real funny, kid." Johnny rolls his eyes, has no problem lettin' Tim know he don't approve of Tim callin' him a kid when he's only a year 'n change older.

"Who the hell is it, Tim?" Curly's voice hollers from somewhere deep in the house 'n Tim scowls.

"Come see for your fuckin' self if you're so nosy." He half turns to shout back, swings the door open a lil' more.

"Ya gonna let me in or do I gotta beg at you're door all night." Tim's scowl deepens but he backs up to let Johnny in.

"Why do I even bother." Johnny toes his shoes off at the door, peers back into the apartment where Curly 'n Angela are sprawled over the couch 'n each other watchin' some show rerun, distractedly kickin' 'n shovin' every now 'n then. "Curly, get your ass up 'n actually fix dinner."

"In a goddamn minute! Oh, hey Johnny." Tim narrows his eyes, picks up a shoe 'n chucks it hard into the livin' room. His aim is surprisin'ly good 'n Curly lets out a sharp yelp in response as it connects with the back of his head, twistin' to throw it back. He misses 'n it hits the wall with a resoundin' thump.

"Asshole." Tim mutters 'n Curly flips him off before Anglea kicks him in the ribs for squirmin' so much 'n his attention is rapidly redirected.

"I almost forgot how fun y'all are." Johnny cracks a grin, neatly lines his boots up on habit at the door. Tim shoots him a look, rolls his eyes again, 'n jerks his head towards the kitchen. Johnny follows him as Tim starts bangin' around pots 'n pans as loud as possible.

"You just here to crash, Cade?" He bangs down a pot aggressively on the stovetop, lookin' over his shoulder to make sure Curly's gettin' the message.

"Naw, but I bet you're gonna wish I was." Tim stops slammin' shit around 'n glarin' at his kid brother to side-eye Johnny.

"You in some kinda trouble, Cade?"

"Always. But not tonight." He snorts a laugh, relaxes mildly, rips open a cabinet 'n starts shufflin' around dry pasta.

"So spit it out then." Johnny shifts, rocks back 'n forth on the balls of his feet.

"I was, uh, wonderin' if you could help me with my hair?" Tim abruptly drops the boxes he's holdin' 'n spins on his heel.

"Your hair? Jesucristo. Do you know what time it is? You know how long that shit takes?" Tim cocks an eyebrow, crosses his arms. They both instinctually glance at the glowin' clock over the oven.

Johnny puts his hands up placatingly. "Sorry, man. Look, don't worry about it. I can come back some other time."

Tim lets out a huff, rubs a hand over his face. "Entre tu y Curly, vas a ser mi muerte." He mutters, mostly to himself, 'n Curly spins around at the sound of his name, already glarin'.

"¿Qué fuck he hecho?" He scowls, one hand on Angela's head to hold her at arm's length as she thrashes around, intent on hittin' him again.

"Well, to start with, be born." Tim rolls his eyes, shakes his head, 'n looks back to Johnny. "Well, mi dios, sometime today, Cade."

"You ain't gonna like it." He reaches up 'n pushes his hood back, locs fallin' loosely back into his face. He shakes them out once, looks everywhere but Tim's face.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ. Johnny. When the fuck was the last time your shit was done?" He hesitates a moment 'n Tim points a finger at him warningly. "'N if you say last time I did it I'm gonna shave you fuckin' bald."

"Uh, well now I don't wanna say it."

"Cade."

"I thought I could just leave 'em for a bit!" Johnny rubs a hand over the back of his neck, pointedly ignores Tim's baffled stare.

"On who's advice? I bet it was fuckin' Dallas. Estúpido blanco de mierda." 'N no one brought him up but now Tim's got himself on a tear so Johnny ain't gonna interrupt. "His white ass glows in the fuckin' dark. Don't know shit about shit. Motherfucker has white people hair 'n don't even know how to take care a that."

"He slash your tires again?" Tim cuts himself off, eyes Johnny.

"What gave it away."

"Just a lucky guess." Tim groans, massages at his temples, huffs out a sigh 'n comes to some kinda conclusion.

"Ay, you two." Curly 'n Angela have settled back in, barely glancin' back at Tim. "Turn that western bullshit off 'n find a rerun of the FBI. It's gonna be a long night."

They both immediately whip around to protest 'n Tim silences them with another well-placed throw that manages to clip both his younger siblings.

"Goddamn Tim, you should have gone fuckin' pro with that goddamn arm." Angela scowls but shoves Curly off of her 'n moves to change the channel.

Tim ignores her, turns back to Johnny, standin' therewith one eyebrow cocked. "Now what the hell are you lookin' at?"

"Nothin', nothin'. Just... cop shows?"

"Aw, don't you fuckin' start with me. I already hear it enough from fuckin' that one," he jabs a finger out at Curly, "'n Dal. Now hush your mouth 'n move your ass."

Tim cuts back into the living room 'n Johnny follows, hangin' back until Tim has manhandled, wrestled, 'n brawled both Curly 'n Anglea onto one side of the couch, glarin', poutin', 'n plannin' murder. Johnny eases himself down onto the floor in front where Tim can reach the top of his head.

"Alright." Tim doesn't waste any time. Gets straight to untwistin', slender, practiced hands that can just as easily pick a lock or hotwire a car. "You know your part in this."

Johnny furrows his brow in thought, moves to start untwistin' the locs fallin' over his forehead. "Hmm. Oh, I know. Didya hear Sylvie two-timed Dal again?" He can't see him but he can practically feel Tim roll his eyes.

"What's new about that?"

"So I guess it ain't true then." He shrugs a shoulder absently, doesn't elaborate until both Curly 'n Anglea are leanin' forward in his peripheral 'n he's got an audience. "Nothin' really, I guess. Just that's she's sayin' she was two timin' with you."

"What the hell." Anglea shoves Curly backward so she can better see Johnny's face. "That true?"

"Which part?"

"Well I certianly ain't taken up with Sylvie, knucklehead." He finishes a lock, reaches over to knock his sister on the back of the head, then pauses thoughtfully. "Though, I guess that does explain the slashin' the tires shit, yeah?"

"What else you heard, Johnny?" Curly ducks under Anglea's arm, leans so far forward he nearly slips straight off the couch 'n busts his mouth.

"Mi Dios, Curly I ain't takin' you to the fuckin' hospital tonight. Míralo." He shifts to grab a clip left scattered across the coffee table from some other forgotten hair day. "But do go on, Cade."

"Well, the other day I heard down at the drive-in..." They lapse down into the easy back 'n forth of hair night. Gossip traded idly back 'n forth 'n only one-fourth of it believed. What was new with who, who was hired, who was fired, whose prices went up, the newest tidbit from the south river gangs that only ever made it into Tusla by way of a friend of a friend of a friend.

Two hours in Curly 'n Angela start to bitch about dinner (though neither make a move to fix nothin') 'n Tim relents (if only to shut them up) 'n sends 'em down to the Dairy Queen on the corner.

It's four long hours, seven ('n a half) reruns of The FBI, two milkshakes, 'n one real migraine, by the time they're done untwistin' all Johnny's locs.

"Well, whatcha thinkin', Cade?" Tim kicks at his back so he can stretch 'n Johnny moves outta the way. His shakes his head 'n grins, pullin' here, shapin' there.

Curly's asleep, head thrown back on Angie's shoulder, limbs tangled together in sleep, the one time they ain't fightin'. Tim half smiles, snatches a blanket off the back of the couch 'n throws it over his kid siblin's shoulders.

"Damn, I owe ya big time, huh Tim?" Johnny instinctually lowers his voice like the Shepard's couldn't sleep through a shootout.

"Ya don't want it back in braids or nothin'?" He shakes his head again, natural hair shakin' out in a loose afro around his head.

"Naw, not for a bit. I gotta give ya a break, huh?" Tim chuckles, twists his arms above his head so both his shoulders pop.

"Just come back over if ya need help takin' care of it, bien?"

"I will man. Do I, uh, owe ya somethin', man?" Tim yawns, reaches down to absently push a curl outta Curly's face, pauses to think.

"Yeah, actually, I can thinka somethin'." He grabs Johnny's jacket from where it's slumped on the carpet. "Don't take that estúpido chico blanco, Dallas' advice for shit. 'N if you're feelin' extra generous, Cade? Try to convince 'em I didn't have nothin' to do with Sylvie before he puts a pipe bomb in the mailbox."

[starkwlkr]

let the light in (sv5)

cause i love to love, to love, to love, you i hate to hate, to hate, to hate you — lana del rey

i wait for you masterlist

ABU DHABI

The following morning, Sebastian had woken up to Sofia on his bed while he was on the sofa in the most uncomfortable position ever. He was pretty sure his body would ache for the rest of the day. Sofia was perfectly fine, apart from a small headache from last night’s previous events. She sat in Sebastian’s bed watching reruns of the Golden Girls.

“Morning, champ. I thought you weren’t going to wake up until the afternoon.” Sofia chuckled.

“You thought wrong. I’m actually going to be productive . . as soon as my bones stop aching.”

“Let’s go get breakfast, my treat.” Sofia said as she stood up, letting the sheets fall to the ground. She had slept in one of his shirts and her favorite pair of silk pajama shorts, something Sebastian liked. “I’ll meet you in the lobby.” She said to him before leaving his room.

On her way out, she had bumped into into Mark and Fernando, who were also on their way to get breakfast. “Hey.” The woman greeted them casually as she walked back to her room.

“Hi?” Mark gave a tiny wave then looked at the room she had just come out of.

“Are they . . . you know?” Fernando questioned Mark.

The Aussie shrugged. “I don’t know. . .” They stayed silent for a few seconds then heard the hotel room door open once again. Sebastian, with his hair all messy, walked outside. “Hey mate, what’s going on?” Hoping they would get an answer out of him.

“Not much.”

Fernando wasn’t taking that for an answer. “Are you and Sofia seeing each other?”

“Oh god.” Mark mumbled clearly embarrassed.

“Me and Sofia? Why? Who’s asking?” Sebastian was fully awake now.

“Me.” Fernando replied. “I did hear one guy from MotoGP was thinking of asking her out. I can’t remember his name though.”

Suddenly Sebastian felt like his world came crashing down. Someone else had a crush on Sofia? No, that couldn’t be true.

“MotoGP? So . . . We should find out who because those MotoGP guys are not good enough for Sofia.” Sebastian confidently said. “They’ll break her heart and probably leave her crying.”

“Oh! I remember his name!” Fernando said. “Casey Stoner!”

“Another Aussie?” Sebastian rolled his eyes playfully.

“Funny.” Replied Mark, followed by a deep sigh. “Just don’t do anything stupid. Knowing you, you’re going to do it anyway, but just remember that I warned you.”

“You’re such a dad or maybe like an older brother. Are you an older brother? You give me dad vibes though.” Fernando told Mark as the pair walked away to the elevator.

Sebastian brushed it off and thought about his choices. He could either tell Sofia about his true feelings and possibly get rejected or say nothing and watch the love of his life be with someone else. . . Why did life have to be so confusing?

“Shit.” He mumbled to himself. “Fuck!” He said rather loudly which caused Mark and Fernando to give him some confused looks.

“What’s wrong with him? He’s the world champion, he’s got nothing to worry about.” Fernando said as the elevator doors opened.

‘If only you knew’ Mark thought to himself.

—

Sofia was talking to Jenson when Sebastian spotted her in the lobby. She had some denim shorts and a simple white shirt that fit a little big on her. She said goodbye to Jenson since he was leaving for his flight. It was all fine until she turned around to face Sebastian. On her shirt was a Casey Stoner graphic. Sebastian could feel his world come crashing down. Yeah it was just a shirt, but it felt like a thousand knives stabbing his heart. Dramatic? Yeah, but this was Sebastian we’re talking about.

“Nice shirt.” He looked at her outfit.

“Thanks! I got it a few months ago, well I didn’t buy it. Casey gave it to me when some friends and I went to a MotoGP race. We should go to a race together, come on, it’ll be fun.” Sofia encouraged.

“Casey? You two are on first name basis now?” He wondered.

“Well that’s his name?”

“Yeah, but . . . Never mind.”

All Sofia said was a simple “okay?”

Instead of being the usual talkative person, Sebastian stayed rather quiet during their entire breakfast. He would occasionally make a little conversation, but he didn’t make an effort, which didn’t go unnoticed by Sofia.

“Alright, what’s wrong with you?” She had enough of the quietness that Sebastian was giving. “You’re acting weird and honestly, Seb, you’re upsetting me in front of my waffles.”

“It’s only weird if you make it weird.” He replied.

“Now you’re being an asshole. What’s wrong? Are we not friends?”

Friends. That hurt.

“Yes, but nothing is wrong.”

It was clear that he had made the wrong choice, one that he would regret for so many years.

[xxmia0wm4yh3mxx]

☆*̥˚☽ • NIGHTLIGHT • ☾*̥˚☆

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

A Crackship based on a dream I had, this is probably really poorly written but whatever

Nacha

Mr. Ring-a-Ding

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

Nacha sighed as the endlessly clock ticked, accentuate her solidarity.

Her Daughter, Anastacha, had to stay with her father this weekend, it had been about two years since the divorce and she still held on the hope that she could've had a chance with him, was it her fault? maybe if she just communicated together better with him? Maybe that marriage counseling could've worked if the couples therapist didn't have six eyes...

She never got used to the silence, even though Francis was never the talking type, she still missed having someone to listen to her, she stared at the chair across from her where Francis used to sit, the full moon illuminating its silhouette in a shining, pale blue light, in fact, the whole room was illuminated in the light, it was so blindingly bright it almost looked like it was day time.

She saw her reflection in the black TV screen, she saw herself alone, eating the reheated leftovers from the restaurant she worked at, on nights like these her and Francis would've been cuddled up together until they both fell asleep, She missed him, or rather, the version of him that only existed in her head... It would have never worked out, they where just too different.

She was desperate at this point, desperate to forget about her loneliness, to forget about him... She grabbed the remote and turned on the TV.

Their wasn't much on these days, mostly reports of Doppelgangers terrorizing the world right now... still she flipped through the channels looking for something to distract her from her worries, Until she stumbled upon a rerun of a recent Cartoon. Nacha loved cartoons, she would've put them on all the time when Anastacha was Little, she would always put them on after she finised her day at school,They where short escapes from reality and they could just relax and watch the show together, she missed those days and the happy little girl Anastacha used to be.

She pushed her dread down and she relaxed her head on her hand as the show rolled, trying to ease her nerves.

"Well Golly gee, what a beau-tiful day!! I think I'll ask Sally If she wants to go to the park later!"

It was that little blue man again, she had only seen him a few times but she found him amusing, Anastacha would've loved him when she was the little girl she used to be

"Why, Hello there Ms. Sunshine! Would you accompany me to the park today?"

The blue critter asked his sunny friend, A grin stretched across his face from ear to ear.

"Oh Mr. Ring-a-Ding, I would love to! But Already have plans tonight, my Fella is taking me to the fancy new diner! Oh I hope you understand Mr. Ring-a-Ding!"

"Oh of course I understand Sally! A nice lady should always have a Fella to treat them!"

"Wouldn't you agree, ms. Nacha?"

Nacha jolts to sound of her name being called through the Television, The cartoons eyes gazed into her, like he was staring back into her soul silently like he was waiting for a response.

"Wah- What?" Nacha whispered, her eyes went wide with suprise

"Look at you, poor girl, All alone! And whats that I smell?"

Mr. Ring-a-ding took a big, overexaggerated sniff

"Is that.. Herb-Crusted Lamb Chops? With Garlic Roasted Potatoes!?"

He adjusted his bowtie and pointed at her

"YOU my dear Nacha deserve some company!!" The cartoon announced to her, A glint of mischief in his eyes

"W-what is happening?? How are they doing this??

Nacha tried to turn off the TV, flicking the off button repeatedly, but it wouldn't work, the glow from the TV shined through the room, getting brighter and brighter, blinding her

"Get ready my lovely red-headed princess, Because im going 3-D!!"

She watched in horror as the cartoon pushed himself through the screen, drawing his exist into her world.

A silhouette of light wriggled into the apartment, taking the form of a two-foot tall cartoon character standing in her living room, the TV screen turning into static.

He brushed himself off, like this was the most normal thing in the world

"Now, where was a I-"

Suddenly, he was cut off as a lamp was thrown right at his head, tossing him into the wall.

"Yee- OUCH! What was that for??"

Nacha grabbed the knife from her table and pointed it at him

"S-stay Back! And don't you dare touch my daughter! I- I'll call the D-D-D, a-and you'll get taken away!! P-please..."

"Woah, Woah, WOAH, woah. Calm down little ladybug! I wouldn't hurt a fly! Let alone a lovely, little ladybug like yourself!!"

He did a cheeky wink at her, clicking his tongue.

Nacha tilted her head as she slowly put down the knife, cautiously stepping towards him, she crouched down to met him eye to eye.

"What... are you? I'm sorry! I don't mean to be rude, but.. you don't look like a doppelganger."

"Doppelganger?! DOPPELGANGER?!" He gave a overly-emoted scoff

Nervous sweat dripped down Nacha's forehead

"A-are you, a Doppelganger?"

The little Blue man rolled his eyes and made a overly-dramatic gesture with his hand

"Don't make me Laugh! I'm no Doppelganger!"

Mr. Ring-a-ding started to do a little dance as Music started playing from nowhere and everywhere at the same time

🎶"I'm Mr Ring-a-Ding!"🎶

🎶"I make your heart bells sing!"🎶

🎶"Please don't make me laugh"🎶

🎶"Just take my autograph!"🎶

🎶"Now look at me Cha-Cha, my lovely Nacha"🎶

🎶"Cause I know just one thing"🎶

🎶"For I am HE, oh, yes!"🎶

🎶"I'm Mr Ring-a-Diiiiiiing!!!!"🎶

He ended with a striking pose by throwing his hands into the air

"Jazz-hands!!"

Nacha felt her anxiety start to fade as she watched him dance, she started laughing, it was the first time in a while she let a real laugh, the little blue man looked up at her with a innocent-looking smile

"Ya know, You're really funny!" Nacha chorted out through giggles

"Don't make me laugh, of course I am! I was designed to be funny!"

Nacha looked out the window, the moonlight beaming into the the shape of the life form's body, she tilted her head in curiosity

"If you're not a doppelganger... What are you then?"

"Don't make me laugh!"

He rolled his eyes again and skittered behind her, he looked around the apartment, taking a minute to gaze at every piece of furniture, picture and light switch there was.

"Boy! You sure do gotta lot of locks on that thing!"

He announced, gesturing to the heavily locked door.

"Gosh! You must be terrified of those creepy copycats, YUCK!"

The small blue figure turned around to look at Nacha, a sort of mischievous mystery laced behind his cheeky expression.

"Surely, you must have some hero to protect you and your neighbors, I mean those flimsy locks can only do so much against shapshifting abominations!"

"well..." she stammered for a minute

"We do have a Doorman, and if we see anything suspicious we could always call the D-"

"Oh Don't, Make, Me, LAUGH!" He sneered

"You think the two mortal eyes of an underpaid, good-for-nothing, lazy bastard is enough to determine who is a fake and who isn't?"

There was much more bitter ridicule and sarcasm in his tone, yet uncannily, still keeping his signature jovial body language

"What about Kelvin Anthony? Todd Whitman? Mrs. Harvey and her Three kids!"

To Nacha's horror, Mr. Ring-a-Ding Listed off every person who used to live in the building who went missing due the Doppelgangers or... who they thought who were doppelgangers

"There used to be forty-two people living in this building, and now there are only twenty.."

"do you really think that they were all doppelgangers, or do you that your little D-D-D, is just SO Great that they have never made a single mistake?"

"And how about all those doppelgangers who entered the building? What if tomorrow one of them gets in? What if its you? Or one of your little friends? Or even your little Anastacha? A little mistake is all it takes my darling!"

Nacha stared at him in shock and horror, a chill went down her spine as she heard him repeat her daughter's name

"H-how do you know all of this?"

"Don't make me Laugh, Im much more than one of your silly little cartoons Ms. Nacha"

"Now, I'm here to make a you a deal, I can protect you, your daughter and all your little friends from all those nasty, BLOODTHRISTY abominations on ONE condition.."

Nacha knealed down to come closer to his face

"Y-yes?"

"I'll help if..."

He pointed to her table

"If you can make me a plate of those Lamb-chops!"

"...Oh.. Haha!"

Nacha laughed to herself, of course he just wanted some Lambchops, they were her one of her best dishes!

She put down a plate across from where she was seated, The little man sat down his head hidden by the table, Nacha could only see his antenna and little hat.

"Um... Do you need a booster seat?"

"Dont make me Laugh! Watch this!"

The beam from the moon shined brighter, illuminating him and making him grow bigger until he was just tall enough to see her eye-to-eye. Nacha watched in shock

"Neat trick right?"

"How did you do that?"

Mr. Ring-a-ding looked at his form and let out a soft sigh.

"Ahh Light.. You cannot escape it, its everywhere, coating every surface in its beaming glory! You cannot hide from it, you cannot run from it, it is far too fast, even in the darkest of nights it is there, it is everything and at the same time, Nothing"

"Now tell me my dear, What does Nacha mean?"

She looked up at him, a bit of caution in her eyes

"Hmm?"

"Your name dear, what does it mean?"

"Oh! I was told that it means Night, why?"

He took a big sigh as looked at out the window dreamily

"Night... what a beautiful time, the icy cold moonlight beaming amongst the stars, the Light!"

"You really like light don't you?"

"Like it? Don't make me laugh! I Love Light! I live for light! I AM Light!"

Nacha watched him as he stretched out his arms letting the moonlight glow through him, his silhouette towering over her

"But enough about me, Lets talk about you!"

He gestured towards her

"Me?.. well.. I have been thinking about starting a film club and maybe even building a inhome theater! I haven't really found the time although..."

"A FILM CLUB!?"

He bursted out of his seat, throwing his arms into the air

"That sounds like the most WONDERFUL Idea I have ever heard!!"

He lunged over the table, getting closer to her

"What films?? Horror? Comedy? Romance?"

Nacha giggled, covering her mouth with her hand

"Well, I wasn't really thinking about a specific genre, I was just thinking maybe we could bring film reels and discuss them together!"

"Oh that sounds lovely! What films do you have?"

Nacha talked to the Stranger into the late hours into the night, the moon shining brighter every time She spoke, It might have just been her loneliness talking but She was really appreciating the strange man's company. Even though He definitely wasn't human, or.. even real and not a hallucination but it really felt like He understood her and He always had something interesting to say or add

" -and she says What are talking about? I don't have a dog!!"

They both laughed together, the blue man giving that strange melodic laugh he had, her sides sore from how much she laughed from His jokes somthing she really needed right now.

"My goodness you are hilarious! You're much more lively than my usual company"

"Glad you think so! though I'm having trouble believing a lovely lady like yourself not being able to find good company"

"Well, its a bit hard having to stay instead all day, We do have alot of house parties though!"

"Right!... is there..."

He let out a fake sounding cough

"...alot of dairy products at these house parties?"

Nacha choked on her drink for minute, she looked at him, that stupidly innocent grin on his face, she sighed in defeat, he obviously knew so no harm in pretending

"Well... look I have to be honest with you, I um.. I recently divorced my husband and the main reason was... well he just didn't have any emotion! Like, at all! Not at our wedding, not on our honeymoon, not even at the birth of our daughter! It was driving me crazy!"

She let out a deep sigh

"I'm sorry... I didn't mean to get so riled up like that"

"Oh no, no, no! Thank you for sharing! You should always feel comfortable enough to share your feelings!"

He grabbed her hand gently, his hand felt weird, static like tv but warm like sunlight

Nacha looked but at him, something a bit warmer and kinder in his gaze as he looked backed into her mismatched eyes

"Boy, He sure sounds like a MILK-toast kinda guy!"

She giggled again, her freckled faced blushed a rosy red color

"You know, you have to the funniest guy I've ever met Mr. Ring-a-Ding!"

A waved a hand playfully at her

"Don't make me laugh! Cut all the formalities, where all friends here! You can call just me LUX."

[basilone]

71) a crucifix and a thigh tattoo for whoever strikes your fancy!

Thank you very much for sending this! 💙 When I saw it, I immediately went "this is a John Brady thing" and that naturally led to a "Brady as tattoo artist"-AU that I didn't even know I needed until I had it. 😂 Soooo. I'm sharing the goodies.

“That looks really blasphemous.”

John exhales softly as the latest line, by some miracle, still ends up looking straight despite her snicker of amusement. “What does?” he asks, wiping at her skin just to check. Yeah. Straight line. “Stop moving, Maddie”– he adds, tapping her hip in warning –“unless you want these flowers to look wonky.”

“Sorry,” she says, booming her apology around the shop with all the aplomb of a woman who’s never been quiet a day in her life. Her next words are slightly quieter. Reserved only for him, if he listens closely enough. “Your necklace. It was on my thigh.”

He grunts, squinting at the rest of the linework that still needs doing. “And?”

“Crucifix on a demon? I’m surprised I didn’t catch fire.” She snickers again, louder once more, nodding at her leg. “See what I mean?”

John glances down, sighing as he realizes his gold chain has indeed escaped his shirt. Half his crucifix is dancing a slow pattern on her thigh, almost as if it is following the lines of the many peacock feathers that adorn the demonic figure he has painstakingly tattooed on her. He’d laughed when she’d first shown up with the idea for it – something from a French illustrated dictionary of demons, fine-lined and intricate – and the flowers he is crafting on her skin now flow forth from the topmost feathers well enough.

“I see it,” he says, mouth quirking around a smile he can’t bite back. “You should really get that angel done on your other thigh, Maddie”– he bows back over his work, not bothering to tuck his necklace back into his shirt –“instead of relying on me to save whatever’s left of your soul.”

“Oi!” Her indignance is a playful bark, as is the tease that follows. “Do you treat all your very beautiful paying customers like that, John?

“I’ll let you know,” he says evenly, starting work on the next petal, “once I find one.”

Maddie’s groan thankfully is not accompanied by any further movement on her part. He smiles to himself as she taps the table twice. You win, she says without speaking. Concedes her defeat more easily than he would, though he has a hunch she’ll try and find something else to win over him before the session’s done.

She always sits without complaint. Marathons a tattoo session the way Bucky Egan marathons baseball reruns, which is as admirable as it is mildly terrifying. He knows to clear his schedule for her. Gets Evelyn to run out for lunch and dinner, in the rather vain hopes that the girl will somehow find her voice somewhere between all the order mix-ups. He hasn’t had to threaten Maddie into eating in the shop since that first session when she’d almost fainted, with Buck’s mild tsk sound the only warning John had gotten just in time.

“You still good?” he asks, all the same, even though it hasn’t been twenty minutes since he last asked. Taps a pattern of don’t lie to me on her lower belly, just above her waistband. “Feeling okay?”

“Peachy, John,” she sighs, head tipping back onto his table when he wipes the excess ink off her skin. “I like this area a lot, it’s a fucking good ache you’re giving me. Don’t know what the heck Max was complaining about”– she continues, obviously remembering Maxine’s loud bitching session on Lottie’s table as well as he does –“because it ain’t as bad as the one you tried on my foot.”

“The one you almost kicked me in the nuts about some four times before Lottie finally quit laughing herself sick and took pity on me,” he grumbles, holding her steady on his table with one hand splayed out on her stomach. “I think Buck’s still got a photo of it that he’s keeping as blackmail material.”

“Blackmail material for you or for me?”

“Me,” he answers, shrugging as he dots a few short lines at the heart of her new flower. “Buck’s not that mean about you girls.”

“Unless your name is Lottie and he’s stinkin’ mad at you.”

John lets out a snort. Leans his arm on her and bends over the last line, which he has planned to sweep up to her ribcage. “They’ll make up. Last time she punched him before they made up and he got weirdly proud about that.” He rubs a small circle on Maddie’s stomach as he hears her sharper breath intake. “Breathe it through, Maddie,” he murmurs, keeping his voice soft and his touch even softer amid the sharp needle punctures, “that’s it. Good. You’re doing great today.”

She sounds almost drowsy. “Yeah?”

“Like a real angel.”

“Means a lot, John, comin’ from a Catholic and all. You’re still trying to balance my scales, huh?”

“Well,” he remarks, working as quickly as he can in the area he knows aches the most, “I’d have you know angels aren’t like those Cupid garden statues you keep thinking I’d tattoo on you. Real angels are beautiful and terrifying at the same time.”

“How does that work?” she asks, softer-voiced than he’s ever heard.

“They exist so close to God that the human mind cannot comprehend what it sees. We know there’s beauty in that – in the colors of a gemstone, the glowing coals of a fire, whatever they are likened to – but also a deep and strange sense of being other, of a sort? They do introduce themselves with be not afraid,” he remembers, as lost in his knowledge as he is in the very last of this line on her skin, “and I believe at least one prophet saw many eyes and many wings.”

Maddie’s voice doesn’t rise above a whisper. “Maybe you should draw a real angel on me after all, John. Just to be sure.”

“Next time I will,” he promises, and tucks his crucifix back into his shirt.

[thuganomxcs]

YuYu Hakusho: Dark Tournament???? Dunno if you ever played that one. If not uhhhh.... Honkai Star Rail? XD

𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐄 𝐀 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄 | 𝐀𝐂𝐂𝐄𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆

First impressions: Definitely assuming you mean the PS2 version and not the GBA tactics game so it's a anime fighter and it's YYH I was all-in when I saw this. Would I buy/Download I do own this game..or at least owned is the better word, It's one of those games that got lost when I moved. What I rate it 1-10: I love my YYH but even at the time I can give this game a 4/10 What I like about it: They tried a little something and I can appreciate their efforts. What I dislike about it: The controls, lack of fluidity in movement, lack of a good roster they could have added at least 4 more fighters..honestly they should have let the tekken guys handle this Personal opinion: I always hoped this game would have sparked some interest for another passionate developer to take the lead in designing one but it never happened. It's a pretty good game to play if you've had a couple to drink with the homies.

Honkai Star Rail

First impressions: A turn based Genshin? Sign me up. Would I buy/Download: I have it, still playing it til this day. What I rate it 1-10: I'd give this game a 7-10, solid experience all around though. What I like about it: The fact that they gave us soo many ways to collect jade as free players, a pretty okay gacha system (if you wanna bitch about this? Play FGO and then come speak to me), quality of life changes made constantly, an auto battle mode, pretty much easier to get into in terms of gameplay, simple mechanic, reruns occur way more frequent here. What I dislike about it: Reruns occur way more frequent here (lol sometimes you want more than 3 months to save XD), the fact that they don't just give us one big cutscene over walking 2 minutes for more story, then another 3 minutes for more story, no co-op simulated universe or at least a co-op chaos memory. Personal opinion: I understand that Genshin Impact walked so this game could run so i won't go comparing the two games. But this game is pretty solid, it's clearly not the best as it doesn't do anything out of the ordinary for me but I mean it's still pretty good to get into if you want a good enough free to play experience. It's treated me pretty well.

[earthtooz]

hello earth!! i’m checking up on everyone this week, so i hope you’re doing well on your end 💌 absolutely adore all the phainon content you’ve been sharing, it’s feeding into my fixations so much 🤍

hope you don’t mind me asking a question as well, it’s something silly but who’s your fave hoyoverse character and why? (only one!!) no pressure on the answer, i was curious on who you’d pick

hello kou!! that's so kind, thank you for the check-in!! i'm well, just tired so i'm about to zzzzzz but i love the new dr ratio (+ aventurine sneak) theme, it's so nice :> <them3

but how are you?? how has your february been treating you?

also, this is not a silly question- it's actually a very difficult question, you sure knew how to make me go ??!????!?!? bc i'm currently wracking my brain for every hyv character i know...

at this very moment, i would have to answer lighter from zzz, i'm obsessed with him and am endeavouring to get as many pulls as i can for his next rerun mwahaha i should have known an emo edgelord like him would have me gripping the edge of my seat and shoving my fist into my mouth :/ but what about you?? who is ur fav hyv character?

[chiyoso]

Hiiiii

I am checking in on some of my mutuals because I was away for a while.

How are you? I hope you have been eating and sleeping well. If not, imma haunt your dreams 😼

Your new work was so nice *chefs kiss*

Don’t push yourself too hard, love and make sure you are kind to yourself, okay?

Treat yourself the way you would treat your favs. That helps a ton

And and I love you 🥰 and I am here for you so reach out whenever you feel like it, okay?

WELCOME BACK NAT!!!! im so glad you're back!!!

your absence was definitely noticed!!! i missed you!! hehe, and thank you for my recent work, its just a silly impulse drabble derived from my sudden innate desires the night i published it!

with how i'm faring... it's been really hard for me to type anything into my drafts, that includes the violinist x alhaitham reader im cooking up, along with the long ass scaramouche fic that im prioritizing right now, but eventually ill get them both out! - OH and ive recently met alhaitham in the archon quest!!! HE'S SO DREAMY AND CUNNING AND CALCULATIVE I HAVE A CRUSH AND HE CALLS OUT TO ME TO WRITE ABOUT HIM AAAHHHH

gahhh i miss your writing too! i find myself rereading your lyney fic when im in need of lyney (which is often) i also cant wait for my own requests too! you've been hard at work right? dealing with whatever life throws at you? i just wanted to let you know, thank you for being there for me! as a writer, friend and a mutual

ilysm nat! may alhaitham come home to you in his next rerun hehe

[nogenderbee]

The world of rng...you gotta love your stay there me with multiple def sands with crit stats... I swear, I would do almost anything to get a skip button on their game AND trading system for artifacts cuz those in the back aren't getting any younger D:

I'm pulling for silver wolf since she is on the next phrase I believe? Though it's not guaranteed since I literally got topaz a few days before they announced the next banners...if I don't get her, that's fine since that's mean I'm guaranteed a luocha. I don't really have anyone else in mind besides those two for now.

FOR REAL!! They are really good at making pretty and likeable characters to be honest, I don't think I have anyone that I dislike? Well besides the traveler and paimon...lately, they become almost unbearable to watch...? Idk how to describe it but I get a little mad with how they treat the twins like I get they lie but it's not like they did it to hurt you :( What about you? Is there a character like that to you?

Omg YES, like I can understand why they won't make character trading, lots of scammers, but artifact trading? I don't see a problem as long as you keep the 5★ for 5★ rule! Sure, stats may be bad that's why they should definitely let us see what others stats are before making final decision. It would literally make life's of manys so much easier!!

Waaait Silver is on next phase?! I didn't watched the HSR stream because I choose to watch the Genshin one but omg if there's actually Silver rerun I might be a little fucked- I mean I have some crystals thanks to the long event that's on right now but still- Well either way I'm gonna pull and even if I won't get Silver, I'm gonna be hoping for Gepard or so since I also want him in my 2nd team!

YES, I mean, I was a big Lumine lover but all the forcing on Furina... and overally how they acted in Fontaine? It just made me kinda dislike them... They're literally on friendly terms with Childe, Harbinger who tried to literally kill them and yet they hate on 3 siblings for being in Fatui even tho all they did was rescue them!!!

I love the angst but make it have sense ToT

So yeah recently, Traveler and Paimon got a bit down on my list but besides that I don't think I have character that I hate really... like there's really little characters I dislike...

[fancoloredglasses]

[RERUN] Dungeons & Dragons (Gilligan’s Fantasy Island)

[All images are owned by Marvel Disney and TSR Wizards of the Coast Hasbro. Please don’t sue me]

[QUICK NOTE: Unlike most of my other RERUN reviews, very little will change in the latter half of the series since I changed to my current style of reviewing in the middle of all of this; the latter half won't see many changes other than minor edits and updating video clips. However, as I originally reviewed this before the pandemic started, many haven’t seen this. Hope you enjoy!]

(Thanks to retrowhiztv)

Unless you’ve been living under a rock for the past 50+ years, you have at least heard of Dungeons & Dragons (or D&D as many call it) Created in 1972 by E. Gary Gygax and Dave Arneson, the role-playing game (or RPG) known as D&D has undergone 4 major rules rewrites (and three “soft rewrites”: Advanced Dungeons & Dragons (or AD&D), D&D 3.5, and D&D 2024), two major motion picture (well…a major motion picture and another theatrical release, anyway), and a number of comic books, novels, and video games. They have inspired numerous other RPGs (including at least two that licensed the rules from earlier editions of D&D to use as the basis for their own games)

And then there’s the Saturday morning cartoon.

(Thanks to Noble Knight Games)

Dungeons & Dragons follows the adventures of 6 youths from modern times (well, the 80s) who become trapped in a D&D realm and are imbued with the abilities of some of the classes (or adventuring occupations to the layman) of the realm and given magic items to assist them as they try to find their way home.

I will be taking an interesting approach to reviewing the series and its episodes: I will be treating this as if it were being run as an actual campaign (or series of interconnected adventures) of AD&D (since a few of the classes being portrayed were not available in D&D at the time, but were introduced in AD&D. Head hurt yet?)

A word of warning: In order to properly review the show (as well as its episodes), a certain amount of basic knowledge of D&D will be required. When I need to cover a new phrase or idea related to the game, I will do my best to explain it.

That being said, let’s meet our wayward heroes, the PCs (or Player Characters: literally the roles the people playing the game will be assuming) [NOTE: a group of PCs is known as a Party]

The party’s leader is Hank, a Ranger who has a magic bow that fires bolts of magical energy that act however the plot demands.

When Hank isn’t around, Diana the Thief-Acrobat (or simply "Acrobat" in the series) takes charge. She is aided by a quarterstaff (or, as she calls it for some reason, a javelin) that can extend its length to assist for high or long jumps.

Sheila the Thief uses her Cloak of Invisibility to assist in her stealthy maneuvers.

Bobby the Barbarian (Sheila’s kid brother) has a club that greatly enhances his strength (and a good thing too, since he looks like he’d need a good windup just to slice through warm butter)

[FUN FACT: The voice actor is the only minor of the cast. He’s the son of the show’s producer]

On their arrival, Bobby found and adopted a baby unicorn the party named Uni (whom many consider the most annoying member of the party. I disagree for reasons I’ll explain shortly)

Presto the Wizard (or "Magician", as they call him in the series) is the only member of the group who doesn’t use his actual name (I seriously doubt that’s what his parents named him) He has a magic hat that from which his spells are cast. More often than not, he’s used for comic relief as his spells almost never work as intended (for example, while attempting to conjure hamburgers for the hungry party, he instead summoned a cow)

Last, but certainly not first, we have Eric the Cavalier, who has a magic shield that can expand its protection like a force field (but for some reason, despite being a warrior class, doesn't carry a sword) Eric thinks he’s better than pretty much everyone and never passes on an opportunity to belittle others’ mistakes or toallow himself to hog the spotlight (which usually fails miserably) Three guesses who I think the most annoying character is.

[FUN FACT: If you are of a certain age, you may recognize Eric’s voice. He was voiced by Donny Most (AKA Ralph Malph from Happy Days)]

Guiding the group on their journey is Dungeon Master, who often gives cryptic advice to start each adventure and sums things up at the end. He's supposedly all-powerful, but generally doesn't help the party (usually showing up after the danger is gone)

In D&D, a Dungeon Master (or DM) is there to craft the story the PCs are the heroes of, assuming the roles of all the monsters and NPCs (non-player characters: pretty much everyone the PCs interact with that doesn’t actively want to kill them) and describing everyone and everything they interact with. For clarity’s sake, the Dungeon Master running the adventure I will refer to as “the DM”, while the character of Dungeon Master I will refer to as “Dungeon Master”. (Dungeon Master is, of course, an NPC used by the DM to attempt to point the PCs in the right direction)

In addition, there are two major adversaries:

Venger (voiced by Peter Cullen, whose voice acting resume is extensive, including Optimus Prime) is the main antagonist. He is looking to take the party’s magic items to add to his power so he may reign supreme in the realm.

Venger’s chief rival (besides Dungeon Master and those meddling kids) is…

…Tiamat the Chromatic Dragon. Tiamat has undergone quite a few changes since she was introduced in 1975. Back then, she was a greater devil and was Queen of Evil Dragons, and her size in comparison to the party is impressive, but let’s look at how the now-GODDESS of Evil Dragons looks in comparison…

(Thanks to Wizards of the Coast)

Definitely intimidating.

Research leads me to believe Tiamat and Venger are on equal footing in terms of power within the cartoon (which makes me wonder exactly where Venger came from if he’s as powerful as a five-headed draconic demigod), which will be important later.

The plot of the episodes are fairly formulaic: The party runs into Dungeon Master, who gives them cryptic clues (usually in regards to finding their way home) The party encounters the adventure and figures out what the clues mean, and usually runs into Venger. The party thwarts Venger's plans, but fail to find their way home.

As I stated earlier, for my review Dungeons & Dragons, I am going to do something very unusual. I am going to treat Dungeons & Dragons like D&D. That is, I’m going to review each episode as if it were an adventure in an ongoing campaign, with the characters growing in power accordingly. But first, two more D&D terms you’ll need to know:

Experience Points (or XP): An award by the DM to the PCs at the end of an adventure. They are awarded for successfully completing tasks such as solving puzzles or defeating adversaries (usually “defeat” = “kill”, but since this is children’s programming I have to be a bit liberal with my definition of “defeat”) As an example: according to AD&D at the time Dungeons & Dragons aired, defeating Tiamat awards 63,580XP. Usually, XP awards are divided equally among the party members (though awards can be given to individual party members for tasks that don't involve the whole party), which would be just shy of 10,600K each. Since Venger is supposed to be on-par with Tiamat, I’m going to assume his XP award would be the same.

Level: AD&D uses the term “Level” to describe at least 4 things. The one we are interested in is Character Level. All players start off at Level 1. When they gain enough XP (depending on their class and current level), they advance to the next level and their abilities increase (this is often referred to as "Going up a level" or “Leveling up”) It should be noted that in AD&D, a character cannot level up more than once per adventure, so if a character gains enough XP to advance two or more levels…well, first we have to question the DM’s competency since they shouldn’t get giving out so much XP in an adventure, but more importantly the characters would only gain enough XP to be 1 point shy of the following level (all the rest vanishes) Don’t worry, this will make sense once the players bitch because they aren’t getting their full XP for defeating Venger at level 1.

The series ran for 3 seasons. I have yet to find a streaming service that has the series, but several fans have uploaded the series to YouTube.

One quick note before signing out: Yhere has long been a rumor of a “series finale” that sent the party home. This is not entirely true. There was an episode written at the end of Season 3 that could have either been a good place to end the series or take it in a new direction, depending on whether the series was picked up for a fourth season, but was never completed or produced.

However, the auto manufacturer Renault (those who grew up in the 80s in the US may remember them as partners with AMC/Jeep before AMC merged with Chrysler) made an unofficial ending to the series for their Brazilian dealerships. Unfortunately, it’s in Portuguese…but enjoy!

(Thanks to Fred Vergano)

One more note: the PCs made a cameo appearance in the most recent D&D film (Honor Among Thieves) See if you can spot them!

(Thanks to Paramount Pictures)

Anyhoo, stay tuned for the beginning of the campaign!

[gldrushh]

GUILTY AS SIN? | DRABBLE #1

→ PAIRING: brother in law!jungkook x widowed fem!reader

→ WARNINGS: oc being a damsel in distress, emphasis on distress, mentions of insomnia, handyman!jk because he got us all feelings things, oc driving him insane (quite literally), whipped jk, flirty jk, unholy thoughts (can you blame her?), suggestive, kissing, fluff, domestic moments

→ W.C: 5.5k (whoops)

→ A/N: request from a cutieful ask that I accidentally deleted 😭😭🤦‍♀️ I'm so sorry anon I really hope you see this!! This was the ask for more context or if anyone's curious (I really hope I did it justice): "since you said you accept requests for drabbles etc.-or did you or am i making this up lol- i’d like to request a little thing. since i want y/n to understand how jungkook fits her life so easily, i imagined a little scenario in my head where something in her house gets broken and she can’t fix it by herself and gets it even messier and everything, and jungkook comes in and being a perfect handyman. Like literal husband material. Would fit in her house so well omg don’t judge me please you know what i mean right? Maybe she’ll get struck by a lightning and finally understand how jungkook is perfect for her and stops treating him with only little’s “i don’t hate you”😭😭😭 like helloo that is the most husband thing ever don’t live apart live together!!! plus handyman jk got me feeling things in my head ngl lol don’t judge me I’M SORRY HAVE A NICE DAY!💌"

Fridays didn’t discern as Fridays anymore.

There was a time when you perceived the days with the smell of oven-warm pizza and the enounce of laughter that made your cheeks hurt.

Nowadays, you have kept track of how they arrive tranquilly, slipping in like a breeze through the kitchen window, brushing past your ankles before vanishing again.They were tired, you presume. Dragging their feet behind a week’s worth of lectures and papers, staff meetings and half-hearted nods in break rooms with bad coffee.

Tonight is no different. You return home just shy of the rise of moon, the university car park already thinning out as you sling your bag over your shoulder, exhaustion gnawing at the edges of your limbs. Your bag slumped onto the floor, missing its usual hook, but you didn’t bother correcting it. You barely managed to toe off your shoes when you enter inside, your mind already curled up beneath the comfort of your duvet, not asleep, but still the thought as cozy as it is.

And you'd have to give credit to the warmth here, that is a familiar fondle. The scent of coffee beans lingering from the blurry kind of rushed morning, a sweater thrown carelessly over the arm of the couch, your favorite mug turned upside down on the drying rack. You nudge your shoss beneath the bench for some dignity, and hang your lanyard on the little ceramic hook shaped like a leaf--a flea market find you told yourself you didn’t need, but bought anyway.

You tell yourself you’ll spend the night in. Maybe watch reruns of that one reality show where couples decorate homes under a tight budget, even though the drama feels scripted and the contestants are always suspiciously good-looking. You’re too tired for anything else. And sleep isn't exactly your best friend. Hasn't been for years and the slender orange bottles in the bathroom shelf only help so much.

But you'll try to make peace with it. You'll pour yourself some tea. You'll pretend to rest.

You shrugged off your coat and padded into the kitchen, your socks catching on the cool tiles. Your mother had sent a whole box of chamomile tea and though you had deemed the purchase dramatic and unnecessary, it had become a part of your routine, even had helped. Maybe not with the sleep exactly, but with the ritual. The motion of it. Perhaps there was something about the way the steam curled from the mug, about the soft floral taste blooming on your tongue.

You flicked the kettle on with one hand, digging through the tea box with the other, thumb brushing over foil packets and paper tags. You were just reaching for the mug—the one with a tiny chip on the handle, the one you never threw out because it had once been Minho’s favorite—when it happened. A sputtering hiss, like the dying breath of an appliance on its last leg. You freeze.

You pad toward the sound with the kind of dread that only adult independence teaches you. The overhead light flickers as you walk in—rude. You flick it again, squinting into the sudden brightness, only to be met with the absolute betrayal of your faucet spurting water like it’s trying to reenact a geyser, sounding alarmingly like a cough—if sinks could cough.

You turned, slowly. The faucet gave one last shake like it was shivering, then spat out a violent stream of water that shot sideways—directly across the counter and onto the floor.

“Oh, come on—!”

It happened fast. One second you were watching, horrified, and the next, you were slipping on the tile, a yelp caught in your throat as you stumbled forward, narrowly avoiding a face-first dive into the cabinet doors. Water sprayed in chaotic, unholy arcs, and all you could do was scramble for the towel drawer and grab anything vaguely absorbent to try and... do what? Patch it? Mop the mess?

The kettle beeped softly behind you, as if offended that you weren’t paying attention.

You drop to your knees, arms full of misguided hope and whatever towel you had on hand. You tug open the cabinet beneath the sink, only to be greeted with a far more dramatic leak than you were prepared for. It's not just dripping—it’s running, and you don’t need to be a plumber to know that water should not be forming a shallow puddle across your kitchen tiles.

Still, you try.

From what you learned from that one experience ages ago. Atleast it felt like it. The last time this had happened, Minho had still been here. Not that he was a great help. He had crouched down next to you, equally clueless, wearing an old college hoodie with the sleeves pushed up and a flashlight clamped between his teeth. The entire operation had failed in spectacular fashion—he had twisted the wrong knob, somehow made it worse. You remember him saying, “This is why plumbers make so much, sweetheart,” shaking his dripping bangs out of his eyes like a soaked retriever and you both ended laughing so hard you forgot to be mad.

You wedge the towel beneath the pipe, curse softly when it does absolutely nothing, and press your palm against the cabinet in frustration. It doesn’t help. “No, no, no,” In fact, the towel slips, sending a fresh arc of water across your shirt, soaking you down to the skin.

“Cool. Great."

The kitchen light above you flickers again. The universe, it seems, has a flair for theatrics.

And somewhere deep down, as water laps against the hem of your slacks and frustration coils behind your teeth, you think that maybe you should call your father but even if he dropped everything, it would take him hours. And any plumber worth their salt wasn’t showing up past eleven on a Friday night.They’d quote you something ridiculous and half of them wouldn’t even show.

You sat back on your heels and stared at the faucet as if it had personally offended you.

“I just wanted tea,” you said to it, as if it cared.

The towel slipped again. A fresh wave of water hit your calf.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath.

When you opened them, you stood, sedate and careful, the weight of water squelching in your socks. The kettle had long since finished boiling, and the kitchen now smelled faintly of wet cloth and chamomile. It hit you then. Sharp, stupid, and far too late.

You were going to have to deal with this yourself.

You looked around the mess—water creeping toward the rug, the under-sink cabinet now a tiny swamp—and, you felt like stomping on the floor.

But you didn’t. Descions. Descions.

Instead, you walked toward the living room, your wet socks squelching softly on the floor like some small betrayal with every step. To your phone.The living room lamp glowed with its usual mellow burke, casting a familiar amber tepidity against the old armchair and the book you never finished last week.

You considered, briefly, knocking on a neighbor’s door. There was that older couple two houses down, always kind, always offering extra tangerines from their tree. But it was too late. Every window was dark. This wasn’t the kind of neighborhood where people stayed up. It was made on the foundation of quiet porches, retired teachers, and families who went to bed after the ten o’clock news. You didn’t know many of them by name.

Besides, no one young lived here who had a wrench or a better idea or just... two working hands and a sense of plumbing.. Not anymore.

Your thumb hovered over your contact list. You scrolled aimlessly at first, names passing in a blur—colleagues, an ex-classmate from grad school, your old roommate who now lived somewhere with palm trees and said things like “detox weekends."

You paused when the screen stilled on him.

Jungkook.

The last message between you was just hours ago. You tapped it open, heartbeat hitching like it always did when you saw his name.

Jungkook [10:03 PM]:

"I can come pick you up."

You had replied right before you clocked out. The university halls had been emptying, and his voice had played in your head, low and patient in a way he rarely was with anyone else. But you had remembered his mother’s voice too—her mentioning something about an urgent meeting, his father stressed, something about a time-sensitive deal.

So you had told him no.

You [10:04 PM]:

"I heard mom talking about some big deal tonight. Focus on that. I’ll be fine, I promise."

Jungkook [10:05 PM]:

"I want to focus on you, angel."

You’d stared at that one a little longer. Your reply had come thorough.

You [10:06 PM]:

"I’ll be okay. Just heading out now. I’ll text you when I reach."

Jungkook [10:06 PM]:

"Send me your location anyway, yeah?"

And you had. You remember the map loading. The little pin that showed you halfway between the library steps and the bus stop, your tired feet dragging. You had gotten home. You meant to message him.

You just… hadn’t.

And now you thumbed over his contact again, chewing the inside of your cheek.

Would it be selfish? What if he hadn’t wrapped up work yet? What if that deal was still unfolding across tense boardrooms and cigar-stale air, with his father pacing like a panther? You didn’t want to pull him away from it just because you couldn’t tame a faucet. You should figure this out alone. You could figure this out alone.

Your phone buzzed before you made a decision.

A message. From him.

Jungkook [11:40 PM]:

"Tell me you've reached home, angel."

Your stomach twisted. Guilt blooming like mold in the back of your throat. You opened the message and typed quickly.

You [11:41PM]:

"Yes! Sorry. I got in and just crashed a little. Long day. I forgot to text."

The typing bubble appeared immediately.

Then disappeared.

Then appeared again.

Jungkook [11:43 PM]:

"Live location. Again."

Your fingers hesitated. You frowned. That was odd. He sounded off. Sharper than usual. Not even the restrained protective version of him that surfaced on late walks or busy subway platforms. This was tight. Worried. Paranoid? You don’t wanna argue with that.

You tapped the map again, sent your updated location.

Your phone lit up again the second after, not even giving you the chance to type out and ask if he's good with his hands? (He is.)

Jungkook [11:43 PM]:

"I'm coming over."

You stared at the message. Read it twice. It was… certain. No question mark. No soft preface like he usually gave. Not like, “Should we stop by that bookstore again?” or “Feel like something sweet tonight?” No, nothing of that sort. He sounded definite.

You [11:45 PM]:

"Wait, now? Why? Is everything okay?"

Jungkook [11:46 PM]:

"It will be after I see you."

You sat back against the armrest, stunned silent for a second. And then, unexpectedly, your chest loosened. Not all the way. Not enough to erase the mess in your kitchen or dry your clothes or make you feel less like a walking soggy dishrag. But enough to let the weight shift, to let something else settle in.

You didn’t have to ask.

You didn’t even get the chance to ask.

He was just coming.

There was something wild and lovely in that. And you had no reason to say no.

If anything, your knees were starting to ache and the towels weren’t doing much and if one more cabinet decided to leak, you might genuinely lose it.

You padded back into the kitchen with an exasperated sigh, hair tied up in a lopsided bun, wet socks thrown in the laundry basket and sleeves shoved past your elbows. The faucet was still dripping—not a full-on spray anymore, but enough that you had to keep a rag pressed under it while kneeling on a folded towel, praying the water wouldn't reach the hallway. The bucket you’d shoved under the sink was nearly full now.

“Come on,” you muttered, gripping the wrench tighter. “Just cooperate for once, you stupid little—” The knock came—two sharp raps, low and firm. The kind that didn’t ask for permission, just announced itself.

You startled, bumping your shoulder into the edge of the cabinet with a muffled curse. You stood up too fast, nearly slipping on the wet tile again as you shuffled your way toward the door, leaving a trail of soggy towel behind you like the saddest version of Hansel and Gretel.

When you opened the door, the hallway light spilled over the man in front of you—and for a moment, all you could do was stare.

Jungkook looked… wrong. Not bad. Just undone.

His hair was mussed, not in that calculated, magazine-cover way but like he'd dragged a hand through it too many times. His under shirt that complimented his navy blue suit jacket real nice was half-buttoned, slightly crooked, and the faint glint of moisture on his collarbone made you think he might’ve walked part of the way in the rain without noticing. Or maybe he’d driven with the windows down. You didn’t know.

But it was his face that startled you most.

There were creases that hadn’t been there earlier. Between his brows, along the line of his jaw—like worry had clawed through the muscle. His lips were pressed into a firm line, but his eyes—God, his eyes—landed on you like an earthquake landing on calm soil.

You opened your mouth to speak, maybe to ask what was wrong, but he beat you to it.

“Jesus, y/n.” He crossed the space in two strides and hauled you into him.His arms came around you, sudden and firm and full.

He pulled you to his chest like he needed to feel you breathe. You didn’t move. Couldn’t, really. Your cheek bumped against his chest and a sound of confusion spilled out of you, the worn material of his shirt warm under your skin, and his breath stuttered above you. You wondered if he hadn’t been breathing right. You wondered why.

Your forehead barely brushed his collarbone. He smelled like wind and smoke and his usual cologne, but the sharp edge of it was dulled by warmth. You didn’t even know what to say at first. Your hands fumbled before curling into the fabric of his coat. Your heart beat a little faster. “Jungkook…are you okay?” you managed, a little breathless, a little confused.

He didn’t answer immediately.

You felt it more than heard it—His chest rose again. Slowly this time. Not panicked. Just… relief. You felt the faint tremor of it, the way he exhaled like he’d been holding his breath for too long. His hand at your back tightened, his other curled lightly around your shoulder, fingers flexing once, like he was still checking you were really there.

"You gave me a fucking scare." He rasped against your temple, low and rough like tension left him one muscle group at a time.

Your brows pulled together, breath catching. "What?"

"Your location glitched." His hand curved around the back of your head, his voice dropping to your ear. “Said you were halfway to some fucking bridge, then blinked out. You didn’t text, you didn’t call—” He closed his eyes for a second.

You blinked, contrition and some sort of realization crashing into your chest like a tidal wave.

His grip tightened as if remembering it. "I think I broke half the traffic laws in this city trying to get to you." he muttered, jaw clenching as he leaned his forehead against yours. “Red lights. Lanes. Might’ve clipped a side mirror. I don’t know. Don’t care.”

“Oh my god,” Your voice went small. “I—I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to— I thought I sent it properly. I didn’t mean—”

He looked down at you then, brows still furrowed, frustration still etched into his face, but it was laced with something softer. Content worry. A tension he couldn’t seem to shake off even now, not when you were in his arms and clearly fine.

“I thought something happened to you,” he said, quieter now.

You couldn’t hold his gaze for too long. The penance burned too hot. You ducked your head, pressing your face into his shoulder, cheeks going warm. “I’m so sorry,” you whispered.

“You should be.” he muttered, but one of his hands came up to cradle the back of your head. It took you a second too long to realize your fingers were still curled in his coat in an embarrassing grip.

Inevitably, you did pull back—just enough to catch your breath, to speak properly.

But his eyes didn’t leave you. They tracked you, unwavering.

And then they dropped.

His brows furrowed again, more subtly this time, like he was recalibrating. His eyes skimmed your form with a confusion you couldn’t quite place, until he paused halfway down, raising a lone brow.

You followed his line of sight and—

Oh.

Oh, shit.

Your dress shirt had soaked through somewhere along the way. You’d been too distracted, too frantic, to notice that the thin cotton now bore a dozen little damp spots where stray faucet spray had kissed your chest and abdomen. The fabric clung in places it shouldn't, half translucent under the low light, revealing the outline of the camisole underneath, and your cheeks went hot in record time.

Your eyes widened. You stepped back fast. “Shit—oh, god, the kitchen—” you breathed, half to yourself.You turned abruptly, feet splashing against the wet tile again, panic reigniting as the sound of dripping water resumed its dominance in your ears.

Jungkook followed. Of course he did. His long strides eating up the hallway carpet before he stopped at the kitchen threshold.

You, for lack of a better word, flung yourself inside and the sight that greeted you was even worse than before. The bucket was near overflowing. Towels had started slipping from their makeshift barricade. Water gleamed beneath the fridge now, threatening to reach the living room carpet. You cursed again, louder this time, and bent to wrestle the mop back into place even though it had already given up.

There was a beat of silence behind you.

Then Jungkook’s voice, dry and unimpressed: “What the hell happened in here?”

You turned your head, heat rushing to your face, your soggy sleeves dragging like guilty flags. "I didn’t mean for it to get this bad. The faucet handle cracked while I was making tea, and then it wouldn’t stop leaking. I tried to turn it off underneath, but I think the valve’s jammed or something, and then I slipped, and the towels weren’t enough, and—”

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face now. Exasperation flashing over his features—but not directed at you, or you'd hope so. More at the mess itself you think, at the helplessness it had clearly stirred in you.. "Baby."

"I know I didn't do great." You wipe your hands on your thighs uselessly.

He didn’t answer right away. Then—with that bone-deep steadiness you had come to expect from him—Jungkook moved. Sliding off his suit jacket with one smooth pull, the fabric whispering against itself as he tossed it over the back of a dining chair, careless in a way he never was in public. His undershirt clung to his shoulders in a way that made your stomach tilt.

Then he undid his watch with practiced fingers, slipping the leather strap open before placing it gently on your counter, far from the puddles. Like he had done this a thousand times. Like fixing your mess was just the next item on his list. The silver caught the light, but your eyes didn’t linger there long. They trailed upward. To his arms.

The moment he reached for the knot of his tie, you forgot how to breathe properly. He reached up, his fingers working the knot loose with one practiced twist, tugging the fabric from his collar slowly. His throat flexed as he did, and you felt something stuff in your stomach again. The black silk slipped from his collar like a sigh, and your eyes followed it. His sleeves rolled up.

That’s when the stuck breath made a movement. Stuttered in your throat.

Ink emerged from beneath the fabric-those familiar lines, curves, the dark threads of his tattoos curling up his forearms like they had grown there, like they belonged. They caught the light and your memory all at once. Your mouth went a little dry.

His voice low, almost careless, as he crouched beside the sink. “Where’s the valve?”

You blinked. “Um. Under—under the cabinet.”

The same hands that had once made a mess of you in entirely different ways, in stolen moments, now curled around a rusty wrench.

"You need to do nothing." He gave you a brief look over his shoulder. “I’ve got it.” I've got you.

You stared. Blankly. Still half-dripping, still overwhelmed. "Do you… actually know how to fix that?”

A small, sardonic huff left him, like he found your surprise kind of insulting. He looked at the wrench—smaller than his palm, honestly—and turned it in his hand before answering.

“One of our safehouses in Daegu had pipes older than me,” he said, voice low, casual. “No plumber, no hot water. I figured it out. Got pretty good at it too. Don’t act so surprised.”

"I'm not. I know you've been good with your hands." You're not being cheeky when you say this, and are definitely not filing away the movement of his hand as he runs a practiced palm along the copper pipe.

Jungkook glanced up then. His eyes looking at you again. His gaze heavier this time, traveling down your soaked sleeves to the water-darkened hem of your shirt that clinged stubbornly to the side of you, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You sound like you’re remembering something, angel."

You turned quickly, heat crawling up your neck, your voice tumbling out too fast. “I’ll go change.”

Jungkook chuckled behind you. Low, deep, satisfied. Your silhouette vanishing behind a bedroom door with the softest click. He didn’t realize he was still listening for your footsteps until the silence settled in, heavy and warm and whole.

It was the first time in a long while that he’d been in your home like this. Not standing stiffly by the entryway waiting so he could steal you away.Not brushing fingertips against yours in a room half-full of people who didn’t know better. But here in a exact way.

He let his eyes wander.

The place smelled like you. Something sweet, something alike. A little bit like cinnamon and tea leaves and the faintest trace of your shampoo, clinging to the walls like the wallpaper.

His gaze drifted as he adjusted the position of the pipe, letting it drain into the bucket beneath. He didn’t rush. He didn’t want to. The metal pipe groaned as he tested the pressure, the familiar resistance grounding him. It was easy, this—manual labor. Straightforward. You tighten what’s loose. Replace what’s worn out. Drain what’s overflowing.

If only the rest of life were that obedient.

The photo frames caught his eye next.

They were perched on the shelf beside the kitchen door, slightly crooked from where you’d bumped them a hundred times, probably too tired to fix them. His knees ached slightly as he shifted for a better look.

The first was a wedding photo. Your wedding photo with his brother kissing your cheek. You were by his side, the most beautiful, your eyes squeezed shut, mid-laugh, a smear of cake icing on your chin.

Somehow, instead of jealousy, instead of resentment or guilt or the thousand other things he’d prepared himself to feel, what rose in him now was something fonder.

Before he could read more of the notes sticked to the fridge, you walked in, in softer clothes—an old cotton shirt that had seen too many laundry days and a pair of worn drawstring sweats that swallowed your ankles. Your hair was still damp at the ends from where the faucet had christened you earlier, but your skin was warm, your breath easier.

Your hands rubbed at your arms as if still chasing the chill away, but your eyes found him instantly. Crouched in front of the sink, sleeves rolled up, inked arms flexed in motion as he twisted the wrench one last time.

You watched the slow ripple of muscles beneath his skin, the way his jaw ticked in concentration, how his thumb brushed the valve like it mattered and obviously it did. The faucet had personally wronged you and he was going to make it pay for its sins. There was something magnetic about the way he worked—focused, assured, steady like he belonged exactly here, doing exactly this.

“Is it… better?” you asked, voice soft, tentative, almost afraid to interrupt.

He didn’t turn, but you saw his shoulders relax at the sound of you. “Better than it was,” he murmured, tightening the last screw with a grunt. “Still leaking a little. I’m gonna seal the joint. Won’t be pretty, but it’ll hold.”

You nodded. And then you stepped forward without thinking.

“I can hold the light,” you offered. “Or the bucket?”

He blinked once. “You know I've got—”

Your shirt pooled at your wrists when you pushed up the sleeves. "I know."

He glanced up then, eyes catching on your legs first—his eyes always had a way of pausing before they moved—and then up to your face. He slowly blinked. Slow enough for you to catch a flicker of something unreadable behind his gaze. But it softened when you sank to your knees beside him, close enough for your thighs to brush.

He passed you the flashlight without a word, and you angled it as best you could while he unscrewed the makeshift clamp he’d used. Your shoulders brushed. His hand bumped your knee. You didn’t move.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed his gaze shift again. Upward, this time. Toward the shelf by the kitchen door.

He was looking at the oldest photo. The one most guests skimmed over. Minho in the middle with his mouth wide open in laughter, arms slung around Jungkook and her both, pulling them close like they were parts of himself. Jungkook’s hair had been longer then, messier.

That photo had never made sense to others. Why he was in it. Why the three of you looked so stitched together. But you’d always known. Jungkook had been there. Not just in the periphery of your memories, but rooted in them. Always just close enough to feel like something vital.

He turned his head then, catching your gaze, that made the tips of his ears turn pink and averted his eyes back to the situation in his hands so quick, you assumed it was to hide the color before it got any more prominent. You suppressed a giggle. Cute.

You looked back at the photo, softer now. “That was the summer he dared us to eat all the ice cream in one sitting.”

Jungkook’s lips twitched. “You threw up. On my shoes.”

You grinned, head tipping back just a little. “That does sound like me.”

“Got it,” he said suddenly, wrench twisting one final time, the valve clicking into place. The pipe stilled. No more dripping.

Relieved and stupidly proud, you said. "You actually did it."

“I said I would." He confirmed.

"Just had to find the right valve. It’s mostly just pressure build-up now.”

You didn’t really understand what that meant, but you nodded anyway, watching his hands as they moved, shoulders finally sagging with something like satisfaction as he leaned back against the cabinet door and sank onto the kitchen floor fully, legs stretching out across the wet tile without care. His hands that was damp, calloused, smudged faintly with sealant fell to his thighs, fingers flexing once, then going still.

He looked… tired. In that content, bone-deep sort of way that follows after fixing something with your own hands. There was a smear of dust on his cheek, his shirt clinging to his frame in places from residual dampness. But his jaw was loose now, his brow no longer furrowed, and the sharp concern in his eyes had faded into something tamer.

You watched him for a beat longer than necessary. "I could make you coffee." You offered, gently.

His head turned slowly to look at you, blinking like he hadn’t heard right. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, already rising to your feet and brushing off the knees of your pants. Pretending it's not a excuse to have him longer.

for a second, he just processed, like the idea hadn’t occurred to him. And then his lips curved into a lopsided smile. “Okay. Yeah, I’d like that.” Pretending he's agreeing not because that he'd get to stay around you more.

You moved through the space like you’d done a thousand times before—reaching for the coffee tin from the cabinet, setting the kettle to boil again (this time with crossed fingers), and pulling two mismatched mugs from the drying rack.

You poured the dark roast into one mug and the steeped chamomile into your own, then carried both back toward the floor where he still sat, one knee bent, arm slung casually over it, eyes trailing the edge of your bookshelf like he was trying to learn by heart every title. He looked so at home, it hurt a little.

You sank down beside him, passing him the coffee, fingers brushing, fleeting but lingering just long enough. He murmured a quiet "thanks, baby" and took a sip, eyes falling shut for half a second.

Your though dipped to his wrist.

The thread; Wrapped still. Faded, frayed, stretched just a little thinner than it once was; all crooked knots and uneven loops, a charm shaped like a crooked star dangling lopsided from the string.That same dumb knot you tied when you were kids, tangled so tight neither of you could undo it without scissors.

Your nose scrunched. “It’s going to fall off if you keep pretending it’s not ugly.”

Jungkook glanced down like he didn’t even know it was there. Like it had become part of him. He flexed his wrist, the fabric barely clinging to the bend. Then he said, almost immediately. "It's not ugly."

You gave him a look. Is it?

Jungkook took a slow sip of his coffee. “A little angel once told me to never take it off.”

You rolled your eyes. “That angel was, like, ten.”

He leaned back against the cabinet again, looking at you sidelong. “She knew what she was talking about.”

You didn’t say anything to that. Just looked—really looked—and saw every year layered across his face. The boy, the teenager, the man. The moments between. And how maybe you weren’t so different from him.

His eyes slid toward you again, a subtle flick of attention like the tug of a thread. “What’re you drinking?” he asked, nose twitching, playful.

You blinked. “Hmm?”

He nodded at your mug, brows pinched slightly in thought. “That’s not coffee. I smelled it when you handed it over. Doesn't seem like mint, either."

You raised a brow. “What, are you some kind of tea sommelier now?”

"Just curious, angel. Smells like flowers."

You opened your mouth to respond. You really did. The words were halfway to your tongue—about how it was a new chamomile blend, how your mother sent it to you from some little organic store that also sold hand-knitted socks and lavender bath salts—but before you could speak, Jungkook leaned in.

And kissed you.

It wasn’t urgent. It wasn’t a gallop. It wasn’t even planned, you were sure from the way his hand didn’t even touch you. He didn’t brace your face or cradle your jaw like he had in other moments-those aching, desperate ones.

Your breath caught-stolen in the way it always had been with him. His mouth brushed yours-warm, careful, lips parted just enough. You didn’t move. Couldn’t. Your hand hovered somewhere between your mug and your lap, suspended like your pulse.

His mouth was doing all the grab and push.

He coaxed yours open, suckled at your bottom lip like he was trying to draw the flavor from it. Tenderly sucking at your bottom lip before he bit it, just barely, like he couldn’t help himself.

A sound escaped you, half-breath, half-surprise.

He pulled back just a fraction. And when your eyes fluttered open, he was already looking at you with that maddening calmness of his, like he hadn’t just unmade you with his mouth.

“Chamomile,” he said, deadpan.

"W-What?"

He didn’t look even the slightest bit ashamed while licking the taste from his lips. "With a little honey. Suits you."

You scramed for coherence. “You're ridiculous.”

“And you’re flushed.” He smiled into his mug. "So pretty when you're flushed, angel."

You scoffed into your own mug, taking a long sip of tea you no longer needed to explain.

Fridays are forever changed. Perhaps, they are now for laconically returns and falling over people who never stop feeling like native land.

[hwanwooyoung]

hello !! lads anon here 🩷

no worries abt late replies !! i hope work settled down a bit + hope ur feeling better :(* what do u do for work? i hope any of ur responsibilities didnt get in the way of ur recovery

im doing well tho ! i work currently and things are getting busier w the year in full swing now😔 but i gotta be happy im employed and all things considered its a good job 🙂‍↕️ i def play lads the most on wkends (mainly sundays now bc im cramming all the weekly things before they reset) but i do "clock in" on time for the stamina 🫡 i treat it very seriously (esp as a f2p 😭)

oo tip if u didnt know alrdy but when playing kitty cards normal, u can exit the game as soon as it loads and still get choco + tokens ✨️ it helps when u have less time but still wanna make due w the wkly cap

i feel u on the decorating tho haha if i do it once im basically done 😆 like the desk mechanic 😅 i did it before the update (it was only static vertical view!) so now its painfully under decorated haha

i think sylus is taller ! by 1-2 cm iirc haha there was some buzz abt that bc everyone saw how big caleb was 😳 and sylus is HUGE esp next to rafayel or xavier but omggg playing on a tablet i think id melt bc when they lean in 😳😳 theyre Actually Right There (im so delusional theres no going back)

im hopeful for reruns !!! 1 of rafayel's cards for his bday was a rerun so there is hope 🫣 or im delusional. maybe both. i wish theyd add it to galaxy explorer AT LEAST if not the permanent wish pool w low probability 😭

but yess all my xavier cards make me so happy 🥹🥹 i find him soo endearing no matter what 🥺 i rlly want the rest of the cards tho haha im def missing a Lot still

also omg this ask is alrdy so long i will send a pt 2 !!

HI LADS ANON!!!! 🥹💖

thank you for waiting 😭 i'm so sorry my reply is so late again but i can only ever reply on my laptop and i use it like once a week 😭😭

i'll reply under the cut!!

i'm a marketing assistant! but that means i'm basically a receptionist/customer service officer/graphic designer/video editor/photographer all rolled into one 🥹🥹 that's why i'm so exhausted but it is what it is i suppose... and the pay is crap but what can i doooooo in this economyyyyy~

omg!! what do you work as if you don't mind me asking? but truly the way the work gets busier as the year progresses 😭😭 you're absolutely right tho!! it's amazing to have a job fr especially since it's so difficult to find one these days

oooh sundays is lads day for you!! that's so cute tho hehehe (and i admire your dedication to clocking in for the stamina, we love that!!) i assume you must probably spend a really long time on the game tho if you cram everything on sunday 😭😭

WAIT WHAT!!! you can do that? i totally didn't know so thank you!! i've just been playing it sped up 😭😭 but there's a limited drop now (or is it ending?) i'm not too sure if that method works for the limited drop too?

oooh the desk is the one that is under "with him" right? same here 😭 i placed one plushie and then called it a day oopsy... i would love to see your setup though!!

is sylus huge or are raf and xavier just tiny 🤏🏼🤏🏼🤏🏼 heheh kidding... but i guess it does make sense that sylus is the tallest!! definitely adds to his intimidating leader aura <3 (also yessss it drives me CRAZY when they lean in bc their faces are just so huge especially if i hold the tablet at the right angle 😭😭 i'll be delusional for the both of us hehe)

i hope there will be more reruns!! i see soooooooo many interesting cutscenes on twitter and it infuriates me that those cards don't seem to be available anywhere 🥺

also!! i saw a tinie clip of the xavier's cat butler kindled and also another clip (idk which card it is but it was a nsfw scene </3) and uhhhhh he's freaky 😳😱 👀 i did not expect that from cutie patootie xavier hmmmm 🤔🤔🤔

but that aside, xavier is soooo endearing you're so right!! i play with the english voices and his voice is so soft and breathy and it's just super calming? it's such a joy listening to his voice... and he's so adorable 🥺🥺🥺 i hope you can get more of his cards soon!!! esp the 5-star ones hehehe 🥰

i'll reply your other ask right now heheh hold onnnn

[flyingcookierambles]

genshin survey lol 1/9/2025

As a 1.0, 2nd day player, Genshin has gone from very satisfying to somewhat satisfying. While some is just because some contents and expectations are normalized now, I have some issues with the current roster of characters. Namely, the lack of male and/or tall male characters. I am hoping that Capitano becomes playable to rectify this lack of male characters the entire year. It seems confusing that Genshin, a general audience game, is ignoring their female players. The only new male released all year was Kinich. While he is cool, he barely has any role/time in the Archon Quest. Instead, the game has begun to release only female characters for male players. Additionally, the online communities have become very hostile and unwelcoming to female players. It no longer feels fun to discuss Genshin with others. I want to know what happens in the future Archon quests, however the way the company and community treats the female fans with neglect and/or cyberbullying, I am becoming discouraged from playing Genshin as frequently as I used to. With no male characters as well, I don't have much motivation to purchase Primogems or Welkin Blessings. I don't understand, does the company not want money from women? Wouldn't the company make more money by appealing to a wider audience of men and women, not just men? I just don't understand this business decision, there is no logic to it to me or many other disappointed female fans. Unless Ifa (and Capitano?) can somehow exceed expectations, and/or there are other male characters upcoming, we just don't have much motivation to continue spending money. Some like me are content to keep using the same male characters we already have, while others just stop playing. Either way, we don't have motivation to spend money on any new characters if the new characters are just female/waifu-type characters. Mihoyo's business decisions to only have waifus is driving away potential paying customers and their wallets. How much revenue must you lose before you realize neglecting half the audience is not good for your profits or reputation? And Mavuika. Archon characters have been incredibly flexible in many teams as both main/on field DPS and off field DPS/Support. Many Pyro characters are also already on-field DPS, minus rare characters like Bennett or Dehya. When I learned that Mavuika was yet another on-field DPS, I was very sad. I already have Arlecchino and Lyney, there is no need to have Mavuika. So I did not pull her. If she were an upgraded Bennett and/or very flexible on/off field like the other Archons, I would have been more motivated to pull her. She is not a proper Archon-type character with a flexible playstyle and she is in too saturated a field to enhance or fit into my teams to replace supports like Bennett. It is sadly too late to change her character playstyle as well. Perhaps the next Pyro character will be an off field DPS/support/healer? Maybe on a rerun I will attempt to pull her, but only for me Archon collection. I already have very strong teams and Pyro DPS like Arlecchino, so I just don't know what to do with her honestly. Please, just no more main/on field Pyro DPS!