#i know that won't happen stop typing right now it's called a joke

[gothamite-rambler]

Batfamily Mitzvah: Bruce tried to make sure Selina never learned about cousin Linda

Context: As the family birthday gathering approaches—an event they can hardly stand—Kate discovers some new information about the bar mitzvah. Specifically, she learns that it's called a bar mitzvah for boys. With this fresh insight, she decides to make a surprise visit to share the news with her favorite cousin, Bruce Wayne… right in the middle of his date with Selina Kyle. Isn’t she thoughtful?

Kate strolled past the tables of a high-end restaurant, catching the attention of a few patrons who raised their eyebrows at her disheveled appearance. As she reached Bruce's table, she slapped her hand down dramatically on the surface to announce her arrival.

Kate: Bruce, have you—

Bruce: How were you able to enter this place? That's not an insult about your appearance; you already know how I feel about that. They won't allow people in unless they pay an entrance fee.

Kate (raised an eyebrow): Oh, like Golden Corral?

Bruce (frustrated): You know that's not the same.

Kate chuckled, snatching a piece of broccoli from his plate and quickly popping it into her mouth before Bruce could grab her hand.

Kate: I'm just messing with you. I told the guy at the front that I was your jilted mistress and that I'd stab him if he tried to stop me from confronting you.

She gestured toward the nervous reservation man, who trembled slightly and quickly raised his menu to hide his face as Kate waved. Bruce sighed, burying his face in his hands.

Selina (taking a sip of her wine): So I'm not the other woman? Nice.

Kate: Love your dress, Selina. You dumping him soon?

Selina laughed, shaking her head with a hint of bemusement.

Selina: You're not my type.

Kate (pointing to Bruce): He is?

Bruce (impatient): Hey, why are you really here? To embarrass me? Because it's not going to work this time.

Kate: I’ll just have to try harder then. Anyway, I messed up a few details about our cousin Linda's grandson's Bar Mitzvah. First, I got the name wrong; apparently, the girls have a Bat Mitzvah. Why didn't you tell me that?

Bruce: You mocked me for not knowing I’m Jewish, which was a mistake that can happen to anyone who watched their parents die in an alley.

Kate: I should have a jar for the times you use your orphan status as a get-out-of-jail-free card. A dollar every time it's used.

Selina (joking): You'd need more than one jar.

Bruce gave Selina a look of betrayal at her comments about him. Selina smiled, sipping from her wine glass.

Selina: I say that not to be mean, Brucie. It's just that sometimes you overuse it. Like avoiding a paintball event at your job because 'my parents were shot in an alleyway.'

Kate: Or when you ducked out of a wedding because you said it reminded you of 'Mom and Dad getting married.' You weren't even a thought when they got married.

Bruce (bending his fork): Kate, you skipped out on that wedding too!

Kate: Yeah, but I’m awesome and don’t need an excuse. I just said I wasn't going because Cousin Marty sucks and has been married nine times, and that bride number ten isn’t 'the one.'

Selina: How long did they last?

Kate: He's married to bride number twelve now. I’ve stopped bothering to learn their names, right, Bruce?

Bruce had his face covered again as Kate playfully slapped her hand against his back.

Bruce: Please circle back to the details about the Bar Mitzvah so you can leave.

Kate snapped her fingers, remembering why she originally made this visit.

Kate: I forgot the name of the synagogue, but I wrote down the directions. The party afterward is at The Grand Oak Banquet Hall, where Beth and I had our Bat Mitzvah—I got it right this time.

Kate slapped Bruce on the arm again while chuckling. Selina covered her mouth with her cloth napkin, nodding in agreement with a smile.

Kate: Linda is apparently going all out for this, and while I hate her so much, it's best we’re on our best behavior. She might put us in the will.

Bruce: I'm good.

Selina (interjecting): Linda was the one who stabbed her husband with a poker from the fireplace?

Kate: No, that was our great-aunt Susanna. Linda was the one who hit her husband with a car.

Selina (correctly guessing): After he slept with her sister, they stayed together not because they believed in marriage, but because that sister later died in a hospital fire.

Kate: That's the one! Damn, you remembered the fire too? Wow, cuzzo, you’ve got a great listener here.

Selina (pointing her thumb at Bruce): I've had decades of practice with this guy.

Bruce muttered curse words under his breath, still trying to comprehend how this was all happening during his date with Selina.

Bruce (muffled): Don't forget the part where you said you'd do the same to me after I told you the story.

Selina: I said it was on a list if you ever betrayed me.

Kate: Hot, smart, and vengeful. I can see why he loves you.

Selina: Aww, thanks.

Bruce (raising his voice): Can you just tell me why you’re here?!

Nearby patrons stared at the trio perplexed causing Bruce to blush with embarrassment. Kate smirked, pleased by his discomfort.

Kate: Right, so the Bar—not Bat—Mitzvah is going to be at that event hall at four in the afternoon, but we can be twenty or thirty minutes late. It gives us time to grab a few drinks at the bar next to the hall. I'm a regular there because of these events.

Bruce (lamenting): I hope they have strong drinks.

Kate (relating): Oh, they do. It's formal, and the color Linda picked is all shades of blue. Her son and his wife apparently have no say in the matter.

Selina (surprised): Oh wow. Wait, is it connected to an inheritance or will?

Kate (nodding): Yeah, she’s crazy but rich as hell. Like as rich as him.

Kate pointed to a mortified Bruce, who stared at his plate of steak, zoning out of the conversation, prompting Kate to flick him on the ear to get his attention.

Kate: As I was saying, she demanded blue everything because—

Kate cleared her throat.

Kate (hoity-toity New Yorker accent): "He's a boy, and boys love blue, and I'm payin' for it."

Bruce rubbed the temple of his forehead at how accurately Kate imitated their cousin. Selina listened with enjoyment, not touching her plate of salmon.

Kate: I'm thinking we could wear blue suits, but the shades need to be different because we aren’t matching. All right, Bruce? Bruce?

Selina (playfully hitting Bruce on the arm): Make sure your shade of blue doesn’t match hers.

Bruce rolled his eyes.

Bruce: Got it. Why aren’t you wearing a dress again, Kate? Worried it’ll look ridiculous on you?

Kate: I know I can rock a blue dress; I have in the past. But this is a protest so that Linda knows I’m into women and won’t try to set me up with her friend from church who totally can "change my mind about being a lesbian." I’ll wear combat boots and get a buzz cut until she sees and tolerates it. I’ve accepted that I’m never going to get to acceptance.

Kate chuckled at her own joke.

Selina (agreeing): I swear, my mother was the exact same way. I totally get wearing the suit.

Kate: Thank you, cousin-in-law. Hey, Bruce, I’m starving; I didn’t stop for food before making this important visit. I’m just going to do this real quick.

Kate took the knife next to Bruce’s plate and sliced a small piece of steak, chewing it for a few seconds while nodding.

Kate: Medium rare, good pick.

Bruce: Yeah, I was enjoying it too. Let me see if I got everything: You got the address to the synagogue, it’s at the banquet hall that side of the family has used since I was a child, Linda is insane but we have to behave so you can get her beach house in the will, the formal color for the event is blue because she’s crazy, and you want me to wear a darker shade of blue for my suit. Did I miss anything?

Kate: Bingo you got it all correct! And Lenny will be there; he got released from Oaks Asylum, and he’s going strong on being a vocal Batman truther. He hasn’t let up about that.

Selina (confused): Batman truther?

Bruce (exhausted): They think Batman is a mythical entity, which is why he always lurks in the night. They don’t consider that more crimes happen at night—nope, he's a cryptid. I stopped enjoying the rumor when it spiraled into other nonsensical conspiracy theories.

Kate quickly swiped a slice of potato from Bruce’s plate before he could react. He huffed in annoyance but reminded himself to stay calm since they were in a public restaurant.

Kate: To be fair, the guy wears a bat suit.

Selina giggled, enjoying the exchange as she sipped her wine.

Bruce: It’s not funny; he won't shut up about it. And you’re not one to talk, Kate.

Kate: Don’t be jelly; Batwoman looks better than you.

Bruce: Selina, am I actually unconscious in a hospital right now?

Selina (shaking her head): Sorry, this is real.

Kate (mocking her cousin): He’s upset I interrupted your date, like you won’t be having sex later.

Bruce groaned, tapping his fingers on the table as he desperately wished for Kate to leave.

Selina: She's not wrong, but Bruce, you've held off on asking if I want to attend this Bar Mitzvah.

Bruce: It’s better for your sanity if you don’t meet them.

Kate: Oh, come on, Bruce; she’s used to the crazier aspects of your life. She should come with us. The more the merrier… and Linda not talking to me. Fair warning, though: She likes to be called Aunt Linda by everyone except her kids, and she will ask you a ton of evasive questions about your criminal past. It's a good laugh once you realize she's batshit insane.

Selina: I've dealt with intense interrogations and my own insane family reunions. I don't mind—

Bruce (interrupting, at his limit): No, no, you are not coming. I'm doing this to protect you—

Kate (correcting): He's worried they'll embarrass him in front of you.

Bruce (pointing to the way she came in): Kate, leave! Thanks for the info, but leave now or I will have security drag you out of here.

Kate: I think I successfully embarrassed you enough, and you’re welcome. Just remember, in two weeks, we’re going to the synagogue. I know churches scare you because you’re a baby, but at least try to step foot in this one.

Bruce blinked with suppressed frustration, choosing not to reply.

Selina: That means he’ll do it.

Kate: Good, now you’re not eating that steak, and I’m still starving, so I’ll take this off your hands.

Kate quickly grabbed the plate that Bruce was still prodding at, earning a fierce glare from him. He resigned himself to the fact that he wouldn't be getting that plate back.

Kate: Oh, and this—

With a swift motion, she slapped her cousin across the face with enough force that he fell to the ground.

Bruce (high-pitched): WHY?!

Kate: I LOVED YOU, YOU BASTARD! YOU CAN HAVE HIM; HE'S BROUGHT ME NOTHING BUT GRIEF!

Selina (playing along): Yes, get out of here; he’s mine!

Kate: Good riddance.

Dramatically, Kate stormed out as Bruce recovered, sinking back into his chair while rubbing the stinging side of his face. The surrounding patrons looked on with mixed reactions—some were shocked, some disgusted by Bruce Wayne being a cheater, and two old men nodded in approval.

Selina: She is such a delight.

Bruce groaned, annoyed that he lost his meal and looked like a fool.

Bruce: She took my steak! Dang it.

Selina (sliding her plate over): Want my salmon? I'm full.

Bruce: I appreciate that; thank you. I can't believe I'm going to have to be around Linda, Lenny, and all of them. Selina, if you truly love me, please don't go.

Selina: I have insane family; I get it and won't go, but if you change your mind, I have a dress that's perfect for parties like this.

Bruce: Thank you, and I'll consider that, but for right now, let’s enjoy this date.

Selina nodded.

Selina (jokingly): You think people here will figure out she was your cousin?

Bruce closed his eyes and held his head down, sighing at that realization.

Bruce: I'm going to get her back for that.

1st part -> Batfamily Mitzvah

[sanaexus]

please please please- "this better be a fucking joke"

keeping your phone back in your pocket, you try to think of an solution which isn't the easiest thing to do when your ex is breathing down on your neck. but hey! positive thoughts only right? he didn't recognize you yet, which made sense considering the last time he saw you, you probably looked like an oompa loompa with a haircut that could rival michael kaisers's, but that was in the past (right?)

suddenly something clicked, if he didn't recognize you, you could just leave without being noticed and feeling bad. so that's exactly you tried, until a voice called out to you.

"leaving so soon?" the heterochromatic called out.

"just like you did every time?" oh. OH. you weren't supposed to say that, you didn't even realise you said that.

he let out a chuckle, "credit where credits due, i was a pretty stupid kid."

"pretty is bit of an understatement no?"

"debatable, i guess i own an explanation huh?"

"you kinda sorta definately do."

"well should we head out? not anywhere far away of course, just not with much people around"

"yeah alright" is all you said before you follow him to some corner of the arcade, looking around you spot a certain blue-headed man, an unconscious smile graced your lips, which didn't go unnoticed by the man beside you.

"who's got you smiling like that?"

"can you shut up and get to the point?"

"yeah yeah, but before i do, just hear my side out i know it doesn't excuse what-"

"nothing's ever gonna excuse cheating ok no sorry continue"

"like i was saying before i was VERY rudely interrupted, i know no matter what i say, it won't justify what i did but that aside-"

suddenly you see a mop of light blue hair infront of you, T-posing for 'asserting dominance' "DON'T FEAR WHEN I AM HEAR-oh fuck wait am i interrupting something important?"

"hiori OH MY FUCKING GOD WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"

"gaslighting gatekeeping girlbossing of course" the man flipped his almost non existent hair and shaking some of that gyatt

"get out please get out oh my god why are you like this"

hiori before glaring at the purple headed-man, "this creature is staying?"

"yes now go, i'll call you when i need you okay?" you do a shoo-ing motion as hiori skips away.

"right uhm are they always like that..?"

"no, not really, now please for heavens sake stop stalling and explain yourself already"

"right so uh i'd like i was a very dumb high-schooler, and no doesn't excuse me cheating but i was a horny fuck, and you were always so busy i just couldn't do it anymore.."

"first of all you're still a horny fuck, and second why didn't you just end it then why did you have to resort to cheating..?" you were trying really hard not to cry but the voice crack probably gave you away, even just the thought of you not moving on from him nearly 2 years later, disgusted you.

"i don't know, i liked you i really did and i didn't wanna lose it but i didn't want to stay either, and i couldn't exactly explain myself, so i resorted to cheating." he explained, it was confusing if he really was feeling guilty and regretful.

"oh, uh i forgive you, ok no i don't but i've moved on from that, we were just kids and shit happens and i can't always hold it against you relationship goes both ways and so does the break up."

"i'm glad we got that cleared out wait you forgive me, so does that mean i can take you out on a date maybe?" he asked a bit hopeful

"oh my god aik-oliver you haven't changed at all, have you?"

"not aiku this time? you wound me, but is that a yes?"

"nope i still need some time to think uh how about you give me your number and i text you within this week if we can go out?"

"yeah that sounds nice." you take out your phone handing it to him as he types his number and saving it as "baby daddy"

"oh ew oliver ew!" you make fake gagging noises.

"hey! i'm not that disgusting...right?"

"i never said that, you're putting words in my mouth, but it was nice meeting again i'll see you around yeah?" and before you could reply you run off to find hiori and when you don't (big shocker) you figured you'd let the gc know (big mistake btw)

please please please ¡! - an isagi yoichi social media fic

synopsis modeling was fun, especially when you go to make friends and what happens when that exact friend goes to the same high school? the friendship of course continues into college. where you get your heart broken and the internet gets to know but then you meet a certain someone that makes you fall for them. so what happens then? chaos.

taglist is open¡! : @fairlyfuji , @semisutopia, @someprettyname , @csbnova , @ashlovelys , @chateaaa , @yeurisstuff , @starchivves , @m3gitsune ,@muffin-0 , @gojosexpiredcum , @bbmsxlene , @profesionalglazer

divider by @/xxbimbobunnyxx. all credits to her!

sorry guys no funfacts today 🙁 GUYS TRUST ISAGI WILL COME JS LET ME COOK PLS 🗣🗣💯💯🤬🤬😎😎💣💣🔥🔥‼‼💯💯🔛🔝

also I AM SO SORRY WHY IS THIS SO BAD WHY CAN'T I WRITE SHIT OMG I'M GONNA CRY also maybe double update bc i dont wanna fall off and seeing 99+ notifs makes me happy

[songbirdseung]

blurred hearts / park sunghoon ft. sim jake

synopsis: I can't wait for the next life to be with you, i want you now and forever. what can I do to have you see me the way you see him?

pairing: bestfriend!sunghoon x reader, boyfriend!jake x reader, love triangle

warnings: one sided love, relationship troubles, lmk if i missed anything.

wc: 2.3k

masterlist

Your upset best friend, Park Sunghoon hangs up the phone for the third time this week. You called late at night to ramble, rant and cry about your boyfriend who has not been the best towards you these days. The other days of the week were spent face to face, you; running over to his house to ramble, rant, and cry about the same thing. With the messy emotions boiling within you, you fail to notice the same messy whirlpool of emotions swimming in Sunghoon; the man who remains stuck in the friendzone.

"Why don't you just break up with him?" He says as he hands you another box of tissues. "You don't understand, I love him."

"You'd know how it would feel if you loved someone the same way I love Jake." He looks at you as you wipe your tears, seeing you in this state for a past few weeks has given him another reminder why he wants to protect and care for you.

"I do love someone, maybe even more than the way you love Jake" Oh, how he wished he could cast a spell over you to stop crying over your boyfriend and wake up and see what was right next to you, him, Sunghoon.

"Who's that?" This time you actually stop and look at him for the first time again since you opened the door for him. He shakes his head indicating how he won't tell you. "I did not come here to discuss my love life while yours is in shambles." and with what he said, you start crying again, lightly shoving him "Then why did you say it, gosh I hate you." Not effected by your emotional and physical jab, he laughs it off and pulls you into a hug "I love you too."

Back at his house, he knew you were right. It doesn't matter if the odds are not in your favor, it doesn't matter if the other person is hurting you emotionally, if you love them...you stay because apparently love is blind.

Sunghoon lays in his bed as he tries to fall asleep, his head turns to the left to look at the picture frame with a photo of you and him during your vacation after high school graduation.

The two of you got permission from both of your parents to go to Switzerland together, you traveled for the first time, just you two. Luckily you did not get lost or had any bad experiences and made yourselves back home in one piece. The picture reminded him always of that core memory you two had but also reminded him of when the kind lady who took the picture for you calling you two a cute couple, you were about to correct her, but Sunghoon just said thank you and joked about how he can't wait to marry you when you both are older.

Sighing as he turned off the lamp, bitterly going to sleep as he realizes that that may never happen, as long as you're under Sim Jake's love spell.

He's sleeping alone with his weighted blanket while you were cuddled up with your boyfriend. Jake was always the cookie cutter, picture perfect, straight out of a rom com (written by a woman) type of man.

The past week just seemed like an off day for you both, a misunderstanding and conflict that caused you to keep running to your best friend. "I'm sorry for the past week baby, I did not mean to make you feel the way you did." Jake soothes you by caressing your back as you lay you head on his chest. "I'm sorry for projecting my work issues on you, I don't know why I let myself do that."

"It's okay, I totally understand. I mean I would get mad at anyone too if my boss was a complete asshole." You both share a chuckle and Jake kisses your forehead, falling asleep to each other's warmth and presence.

The next day after work, you made your way to the main exit of the building and you find both of the men waiting for you outside, leaning against their cars. "I didn't know you and douchebag made up" Sunghoon was never fond of Jake, he would tell you how he could see pass his "good boy" facade, Jake on the other hand never understood how Sunghoon could hate him when they barely exchanged a few hellos back then. "Dude, I-" you walk up to Jake quickly asking him to just leave it. "Baby, don't. It's okay, He didn't mean it."

"Yes, I did." Sunghoon says, not sparing a glance at the both of you. "Sunghoon, why are you here? and what's with the attitude?"

"I thought to pick you up since you and lover boy were not on good terms, but I guess you two made up." He tries to play off the jealousy by shrugging and having a nonchalant look on his face as he enters his car. "See you around, yeah?" Without waiting for a reply he drives away.

"That best friend of yours really hates me" Jake draws little circles on your back as he pulls you closer for a hug. "I guess after all the times you've made me cry the past week, it's safe to say, yes he does."

He laughs, looking unbothered by it "As long as you're always gonna be mine" he says as he opens the passenger side door for you. "Always."

The car ride home was better than the last time he picked you up, now there was less tension and back to normal. His free hand holding yours while stealing kisses from you during a red light or a stop sign. "Why don't we head to the store, pick up a few things and drive home to have a game night?" Jake suggested. "Let's make sure this game night, stays as game night, alright lover boy" teasing him with the nickname Sunghoon called him earlier. "You know the name Loverboy doesn't bother me, love." shaking your head, you just continue to watch Jake drive you both to the store safely.

Meanwhile back at the bar, Sunghoon is seated next to his friends Heeseung and Jay. "You know, Sunghoon...I hate to say this but-"

"Shut up, I know you're gonna tell me I don't have a shot with yn"

"Oh, so you do know but still decide to be an idiot?"

"We might as well record our same old advice and you could replay it every time you're back in this situation." He rolls his eyes and shoves Jay's face away from his. "You guys are such 'great' friends" the other men laugh and nudge Sunghoon. "We are only joking but also, it's the truth man, I know you like her a lot but she's happy with Jake."

"Also, he's not that bad of a guy, I used to work with him." Heeseung shares a short story on Jake. But this doesn't change Sunghoon's outlook on him. "Clearly jealousy is clouding your judgment" Jay takes away the drink from Sunghoon and reminding him he has work tomorrow.

"Wait, have you ever tried confessing to yn?" He shakes his head, telling them how it was clear that you never liked him. "Really? I remember her telling me in college that she had a crush on you when we were in-" not caring about the rest of Jay's story, he books it out of the bar and heads to your house. "Great, you made him delulu, thinking he can pull her now" Heeseung and Jay laugh seeing their friend stumble out the chair and run to his car.

Yes, he was still sober, but he was drunk on you. As he drives, he's thinking about all those times back in college, wondering if you really had a crush on him back then. But as he pulls into your driveway, he spots Jake's car in the garage, oh how lovely.

Nonetheless, he's at your door, ringing the doorbell. "Hello how-" Jake's sentence was cut short once he sees who's at the door. "I need to talk to yn" Sunghoon enters your house, not looking at Jake and just makes his way over to you. "Okay..." Jake awkwardly closes the door and goes over to you.

"Woah, Sunghoon what are you doing here?"

"He said he wanted to talk to you, So, I'll give you to some privacy. I'll be in the room, love." Kissing you and walking away. To this, Sunghoon looks away but rolls his eyes. Once he hears the bedroom door close, he jumps into action. Sitting next to you on the floor that was decorated with blankets, fairy lights, and snacks. The tv screen illuminated by the game you put on pause.

"Jay told me you had a crush on me back in college, that true?" You blink more than you usually do, bewildered on why that made him come over so suddenly. "Well, yeah but only for like a month?"

"Why didn't you tell me?" You think back to the time, and you remember the day you did see him in a different way. "I think it was just because I just got dump by that guy I was seeing, after that I kind of reminisced about how different you two would treat me." You looked at Sunghoon who was waiting for the direct explanation, so you continued. "You always treated me like a princess and reminded me how worthy I was, so I guess during that month I started developing feelings for you."

"And?"

"I didn't do anything about it because that same month, you started dating that one girl from your class." At this point, Sunghoon was now wishing he just stayed for the rest of Jay's story. "Why did you rush all the way here, also, were you drinking?"

"Maybe..I was with Jay and Heeseung."

"Answer my question.

"I did"

"The first question, Hoon"

"I don't remember what it was."

"Don't bs me, you're not drunk" He sighs and quickly thinks on an excuse to give you. "I was so curious, that's all, besides I was driving home, thought I stop by" you weren't convinced in the slightest, but you know there was no more budging this dude, so you nod and tell him whatever.

A little later Sunghoon goes back home, and Jake comes back into the living room. "What was that about?" Sitting back down in his spot and picking up his controller. "He found out I had a small crush on him back in college before you and I dated, he was curious..."

"Well, yeah the guy has a huge crush on you now, maybe he thought you were-"

"Wait what?"

"Oh, c'mon babe, it's so obvious." You pause the game again and face your boyfriend, waiting for more explanations. "I'm a dude, he's a dude, I basically know he likes you based off on how he acts, especially around me with you." Still not believing it, Jake suggests you call him, being direct and just ask him. So, you do, he hands you your phone and you dial his number.

When you call, Sunghoon has just entered his house and locked the door when he hears your ringtone. Picking up and he immediately wants to go run and hide. "Do you like me, Sunghoon?"

"Of course, you're my best friend. Of course-"

"Not platonically, Sunghoon. Do you have feelings for me?"

"What you gonna do if I do?"

As much as he wants you to drop that boyfriend of yours and be with him, he knows it too selfish to take you away from your happy relationship. But with the number of times where he put you first before his own self, was we wishing you would do so? "You know what, yn let's forget about it, I don't want to ruin what you have with Jake" then hangs up the phone. "So?" Jake looks at you with 'I told you so' look, making you glare at him. "He does..."

"You'll probably have to talk to him seriously next time you guys meet" this time when you pick up your controller, you don't have the same excitement you had before, now you're nervous and scared that you might have just lost your best friend. "I'm sorry I even brought that up, now you're in this predicament."

"No, babe. It's fine, it's better I find out than never."

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to help him move on?" confused with your own answer that it came out as a question. "That'll be awkward."

And for sure it was, because the next two days Sunghoon manage to dodge you and hide away, but those victories of avoiding you ends now. You stand at his front door. With the help of Jay and Heeseung, you three manage to plan something to get him to come out of his house. Sunghoon got ready to meet Jay but when he opened the door to leave, he saw you. "We need to talk."

"What is there to talk about? Yn, you know now that I like you but there's nothing you can do about it." Sunghoon tries to walk past you to get to his car but when he looks in the driveway, his car isn't there. "Jay took your car but don't worry, you're coming with me." Taking his arm and bringing him to your car. "I don't understand how you say I can't do anything about it when-"

"It's not like you're going to break up with Jake to be with me yn, you love him. You don't love me that way, I can't just force you to." You stop walking and face him again. "I can't get you to fall for me by making moves on you because that's not fair to Jake and you. So please, just forget about it."

He gently removes your hand off him and fixes his jacket. "Just go home yn" you try to walk close to him, but he just backs up, away from you. "Sunghoon, I don't want to lose you."

"But yn, I already lost you years ago." He takes your silence a chance to retrieve back into his house and locking the door behind him. The barrier keeping you two apart.

[yorutsuki]

「 ✦ You Won't Die... ✦ 」

↳ Immortality - the ability to live forever; eternal life..but is it really living or is it just forever?

[ this does not follow the plot of the original series! ]

Tags:

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Invincibility, one of the ways to describe immortality—your quirk. You didn't find out until the age of 9 when you drowned. Well, not quite. You should've but you didn't. You had been under water for a good 20 minutes and yet lived to tell the tale.

The doctor that you went to did say you had a quirk but didn't quite know himself what it was, and it was to stay that way; nobody would know your quirk apart from immediate family, why? Immortality was a heavily rare occurrence, one that would be for sure exploited and experimented on, or if not, you'd be exploited at most. And because you told you friend once and they used you as a testing bag for their quirk and other physical attacks—ultimately calling it a 'joke' or to relax since you couldn't die anyways.

Though even with this promise it didn't stop you from being carefree. Throughout your time of living, you've used your ability to it's semi-fullest. You were in a way reckless with precaution.

With your quirk, it allowed you to have a sense of freedom and less worry of dying, allowing you to do things that would otherwise kill or seriously injure someone. Though still keeping to the promise, you didn't do reckless stunts that would kill without reason or excuse to back it up.

With all of this, it would have been a waste if you couldn't use your quirk to it's potential, no? So here you were, in the famous hero school; UA, in class 1-A, of coarse.

Throughout your time at the school, you had miraculously managed to successfully avoid any quirk confrontation, thanks to your skills in lying and carefree attitude. Though your homeroom teacher and recovery girl were exceptions, as it was standard measures that needed to be met.

Because of your immortality, you'd love to scare some of your friend's and classmates with some stunts that would be considered deadly. On occasions you would be on near death experience and narrowly miss it by someone saving you but you laugh it off in the end. You couldn't die. You were nicknamed by some, "The Miracle" by these incidences. Otherwise, you believe people just assumed you had a accumulation-type quirk which wasn't too far fetched..well that was until now.

"What the hell!? Bastards just keep spawning in!?" Bakugo yelled, explosions booming left and right.

"Wasn't this supposed to be a simple, task? To get food and go!?" You shouted back, slashing a whip-like chain towards the on-coming enemies.

"It seems we're the primary targets for the majority." Todoroki sighed, freezing more bandits.

Food, all you four volunteers' task was to get food for a movie night though unfortunately you guys went to the wrong place at the wrong time as a robbery soon took place.

Thankfully Bakugo and Midoriya were able to get the innocent away from the danger before anything else happened.

"Hey, you brats are from the UA sports festival!" One of the bandits shouted, catching your attention. "You especially.." He turned to you as you furrowed your brows, the others alert.

"Boss said that he'd reward us for your head..." He whispered, though in vein as you heard it.

"He's been watching you, waiting for a time for you to die...but now..NOW IM GOING TO KILL YOU FOR HIM!" He screamed, hastily taking his gun out and blindly shooting. Midoriya was able to disarm the man quickly, easily avoiding the bullets while Todoroki made a ice wall.

Within a few minutes all the bandits were unconscious and tied up while one of you dialed the pros.

"I can't understand...why..no, who would want you dead?" Todoroki mumbled, his brows furrowed in concerned.

You mentally laughed at whoever this person was because apparently even with their stalking, they still didn't understand your quirk.

You shrugged, "dunno, we've faced many people before, too many to really count." You commented.

"Well then I believe we should probably-" Within a split second, you heard a loud bang then heard white noise. You felt a sudden pain in your eye as the others screamed your name, rushing to aid you.

You lifted your hand to gently touch your eye, a crimson liquid trailing down. Another bang shot throughout the area, the same liquid trailing down your chest. The others panicked, Bakugo quickly finding the person behind this mess and without hesitation went after them with quick time.

Midoriya was panicking, his eyes widened with tears as he rushed to your side. Todoroki's face was plastered with frozen fear.

The downside to your 'immortality' was that you could feel everything, you just couldn't die.

"H-how are you still alive..?" Todoroki uttered, his brows nit with confusion, his eyes widen, searching for answers.

Before you could answer you heard footsteps behind you. Turning around, you were faced with Bakugo as the scene behind him was relieving, seeing a unconscious scrawny man who you'd presumed to be the cause for this...mess—being carried away by police.

"What the hell..?" Your attention turned to Bakugo who'd bore the same confused expression as your dual quirk friend though he quickly replaced it to a calmer yet skeptical facade.

"You...You're going to explain this later..." His voice was gruff yet in a sense, soft.

You nodded just as medics pushed through, starting to question you.

......

The four of you sat down on a bench in the yard outside the UA dormitories, surrounded by muffling foliage.

"My quirk, i've never fully explained it exactly and kept it hidden quite well if I do say so myself." You grinned, but the others dead panned, Midoriya sighing. You cleared your throat, "anyways, my quirk is what i'd like to call, 'Ambrosia'." You smiled.

Todoroki and Bakugo looked a bit puzzled while Midoriya pondered before his eyes lit up, looking towards you, "You're immortal!?" The others eyes widened, well Bakugo's a bit more calmer. You nodded.

"So that's why you always act so recklessly." Shoto deadpanned while you huffed, rolling your eyes playfully, "I'm hurt but yes." You smiled.

"Why did you hide your quirk all this time?" Bakugo raised a brow. "Bad experiences with people who knew." You shrugged, not wanting to go in detail, which thankfully the others got the message.

Bakugo glanced at you. "Great, not only do I have to compete with this green haired-All Might wannabe but now I gotta deal with your immortal ass?" He hissed, you knew all too well he didn't mean it in a bad way. You glanced to Midoriya who looked at you with curious interest, "If you don't mind, is there anything else to your quirk? Does it affect your overall strength? Intellect? Speed?–" "Woah, woah, thats a convo that not everyone needs to hear." You chuckled as you watch his face go beat red of embarrassment. "Ah, sorry."

A wave of silence washed over you all, it was a moment to process everything.

Todoroki looked up, his brows nit. "Your eye..is it going to be alright?" He asked, gesturing to the bandage covering the said organ. You smile turned soft. "I'm..not sure. I've been pretty reckless but not to the extant to lose limbs. I..I'm pretty sure I can't regrow full body parts." You chuckled, trying to make lighter of the situation.

The silence over the four of you felt more tenser, a saddened aura floating above your heads.

You didn't want to think about it but, thinking back, you had scarring from some of the stunts you've pulled, some deeper than others. Using that as proof, if something minor such as your skin didn't regenerate to perfection then you doubt a whole limb or organ would grow back.

"Wait..so would that mean, if the shot went above your eye, you'd.." Midoriya paused, not sure if he should continue. The others looked at you for an answer, warily. You nodded, "Possibly. Though the tissue would possibly regenerate a tinge bit faster."

Bakugo decided to hit the big question. "What would happen if you got shot in the heart."

You furrowed your brows. "Well, I never really put much thought into it but..after these events.." You cleared your throat. "I think in all, I can't die from natural causes or well 'disasters'. My heart will keep beating but if that were to be destroyed then my best guess is—" You paused, finally realizing it all.

"H-holy...holy shit..." Your heart is the only thing keeping you 'alive'. If that were to be killed, you'd be a walking corpse, rotting away.

Your immortality doesn't preserve, it only keeps you alive no matter what.

"I...I won't..it...it..

...I can't die."

.

.

.

.

Whooo! Another fanfic! Hopefully this has enough drama and darkness to it :)

My inbox is open for any suggestions! <3

[loulovingho]

My Biggest Advocate

(Part 4 of my Wedding series. All parts can be read separately, or together. Read here or on ao3)

Summary: After letting everyone else know that his parents wouldn't be coming to his and Tommy's wedding, Buck had one more person to inform... Maddie.

This was the conversation Buck had been dreading more than any of the others. Telling Maddie that their parents wouldn't be coming to his wedding was going to be difficult enough, but he knew that through all of her anger she would still give him those wide, sad eyes and that was going to be what broke him.

He had gotten to the cafe early, settled in and ordered them each a drink. He knew Maddie would be getting there any second, and he couldn't stop his leg from nervously bouncing up and down as he waited.

Sure enough, just after the drinks arrived, Maddie did too. Buck smiled, waved her over, and got up to give her a hug.

“Okay,” she said, setting her bag down in the empty chair beside them as she sat down. “Spill.”

He wiped his sweaty palms on his pants. “Spill?” he asked with a nervous laugh. “Spill what?”

She crossed her arms and rested them on the table as she rolled her eyes. “You remember who my husband is, don't you? Chimney was acting sketchy the second he got home from work this morning. I already knew something was up when he faked a call during our phone conversation last night, but I knew for sure when he got home and apologized for “all the words I cannot say” whatever that means.”

“Why... What makes you think thats's, uh, got something to do with me?” God, why was he even questioning this? It wasn't like he could hide it from her forever. He needed to get it out. Say it.

Just say it.

Maddie looked at him knowingly, her head slightly tilted to the side. “Buck, Chimney tells me everything. If he's keeping something from me, it's gotta be serious.”

Buck took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “Maddie, I...”

“Did you call the wedding off?” she questioned, concern all over her face. “Did something happen? Is Tommy okay? Are you-”

Buck reached out and took her hand in his, stopping her spiral. “We're fine, Maddie. I promise. Tommy is... he's perfect. It's not about him, or us, really.”

“Then what?” she asked. “I've been kind of freaking out all morning.”

“Okay, okay, but before I- I tell you, I just need you to promise that you'll stay calm.”

“Oh no.”

“And that you won't try to do anything irrational, because I don't need you too. I'm okay.”

“Buck, just-”

“Mom and dad aren't coming to the wedding,” he let out quickly, ripping off the bandaid.

There was silence. A lot of silence. Way too much silence.

“What?” Maddie pulled away from Buck's touch, sitting straighter. “Are you... are you joking?”

“I'm not.”

“What do you mean they're not coming, Evan? Of course they're coming to the wedding.”

He shook his head. “They called me a few days ago to tell me they couldn't make it.”

“Well, why not? Is one of them sick or something? Hurt?”

“No, no, they, um,” Buck sighed. This was the worst part, every time. “They have a cruise.”

Buck could've sworn Maddie's eyes got darker when she heard the reason. “They have a cruise?”

“Apparently so.”

“Buck, I don't... I can't-” She reached over and grabbed at her bag, beginning to dig through it, “I'm calling them right now.”

“Maddie!” Buck reached over and held onto the back, keeping her from getting her phone. “Maddie, please, don't. Just... please don't.”

She stopped, stared at him for a moment before releasing her grip on the bag. Buck dropped it back into the chair.

“They can't do this to you, Buck,” she said, her voice low and angry. “Not after everything we've been through. We've come such a long way with them, and they do this?”

He shrugged. “They're still mom and dad. Always will be, I guess.”

“That's not an excuse, and you know it. They know better than this, Buck. They know what a big deal this is. They could make some type of effort to get their heads out of their asses and actually be there for you.”

“I don't think-”

“And why aren't you more angry about this?” she asked, unable to hold back. “You should be pissed.”

Buck laughed humorlessly. “Oh, I am pissed. I've been pretty angry on and off for days, but I can't let them ruin it all. It can still be a good day. I want it... I want to be happy.”

And there came the look. That wide eyed, tear filled look that Buck had been dreading. “Buck, I... What are we gonna do?”

“I've got all the wedding stuff taken care of,” he began. He needed to keep focused on giving her all the information, so he didn't break down himself. “Ravi actually invited his parents for seat fillers. I've never met them, but the fact they accepted coming their son's random co-worker's wedding at the last minute makes me think they must be good people,” he said with a laugh. “Athena and Bobby are going to walk me down the aisle.”

He got a smile from Maddie at that. “Good choice,” she let out shakily, tears still threatening to fall.

“And I would have told you sooner,” he added quickly, “but I wanted to, to do it in person and we hadn't been able to get together lately, and I guess I had been acting weird at work and that's how all the other guys found out and-”

Maddie reached out her hands for Buck to take. “It's okay, Buck, I understand.”

“You do?”

“I do. Listen,” she gave Buck's hands a squeeze before letting go. “Why don't I call mom and dad,” she started, giving him a look to hold on when he went to protest, “and ask them to video in for the wedding? They should at least be there in some shape or form, if they won't be there physically.”

“Tommy suggested that,” Buck admitted, “and I said no. I just feel like, why bother, you know? If they can't come, why should I bother to try and have them there anyway?”

“I get that. But, I also know you. And while I'd love to never speak to them another day in my life-”

“Maddie-”

“I also know that sometimes we make a decision when we're upset and then we have to live with that regret forever.”

“I had been thinking about it,” Buck said. “Every time I do, I get so mad that I even have to think about that I just say no and move on.”

“Mom and dad will get to live with this decision for the rest of their lives. If I call and just throw that option out there, you won't have to think of it anymore. You'll know you've done everything you could.”

Buck thought for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah, yeah I guess you could call them for that. Just don't get all big sister on them, not right now.”

“Pinky promise,” she said, reaching out her pinky for Buck.

He smiled, accepting the promise.

“However,” she said, once they were done, “after the wedding, all bets are off.”

Buck laughed, his smile reaching his eyes for the first time in a while. “Deal.”

[olderthannetfic]

How does one get considered by a major publisher? Is it just luck and the people you know? I can’t imagine they’re willing to look at everything that gets sent to them.

--

This is something that's actually pretty easy to research. I don't keep on top of it because I'm not interested in pursuing this, but I can give some basics.

There are hundreds of publications and blogs and agents' and publishing professionals' own social media accounts that talk about this.

You have to look it up imprint by imprint. Most of the time, in the current day, the imprints people really want to get published with don't accept unagented submissions. The open slush pile is a thing of the past many places.

Agents, however, often do accept unsolicited manuscripts, and they're frequently the first step for people trying to break in. There are various books and indexes where you can look up who's in business, who's looking for submissions, and what kind of content they cover.

Knowing people can certainly help, but new authors do break in all the time without nepotism or industry ties.

I don't think luck has much to do with it.

There's luck involved in those rare cases where someone is picked up by the first agent they approach, the agent is able to successfully sell the book right away, and it goes on to be a bestseller.

But most authors' success stories involve a number of years of sending their manuscripts around to various agents while writing more. That's not luck: that's perseverance.

I suppose there's some luck in happening to have tastes and strengths suited to whatever is trendy right now, but if you're envisioning a long-term career as a writer, even that won't be consistent.

--

As for how you get out of the slush pile...

Write a complete manuscript that is ready to publish as-is in terms of plot, pacing, and characterization.

Proofread it extensively.

Format it in the requested manner. (Could vary by agent/venue.)

Send it to an agent/venue that actually covers the genre/subject matter in your manuscript.

You would be surprised at just how many people don't follow any of these suggestions.

They think it's the publisher's job to be their beta reader and do extensive plot and style revisions with them, but in the modern day, most types of publishing don't have the time or money for that. They're going to proofread you and change your punctuation to house style. They might do more, but that's the most you can rely on.

If there is anything in your manuscript you wouldn't want to see on bookstore shelves today, fix it.

The others are even worse. People are always sending poetry books to fiction imprints and fiction to nonfiction ones, etc. Or they write three chapters because that's what submissions call for but don't have the rest of the book ready when an agent is finally interested. Or the first paragraph is littered with typos.

Basic professionalism like with any job interview goes far.

--

We all like to joke about all the total crap that does end up getting published, and yes, sometimes if you're already a celebrity or you happen to hit a trend just right or you're great at marketing yourself and have connections, that can be you.

But writing a really good book still works.

A lot of the time, people who are actually writing publishing-ready manuscripts and lots of them who submit to publishers for 10 years will eventually break in. People who stop after one manuscript or a dozen submissions generally won't.

[usmsgutterson]

Achilles Heel - Givenson

oooookay!! This is the second chapter of this work. If you missed the first chapter, this chapter probably won't make sense, and if you'd prefer to read it on ao3 here's the link!

fic type - this is, once again, like if hurt/comfort and fluff had a weird child of neutrality

warnings - just like the last chapter--alcoholism and it's adverse effects are discussed (heart attack is mentioned a lot in this one and once is used for a dark humour-y kind of joke, the root cause for it is revealed and specified a bit more, and the seizure is mentioned at least once) tims time in the military is discussed a little, PTSD manifests as an anxiety attack and a bit like a flashback at the same time. Tims childhood trauma is discussed so physical abuse, as well as mental and verbal abuse are mentioned. There are a few mentions of guns in correlation to said trauma and a lot of talk about booze in the general sense.

“Well,” Rachel says as she enters Tims apartment a week later, having gotten in using the spare key he’d surrendered to her seven weeks beforehand. “That explains the kitten formula in your truck.”  

He’s lounging on his couch wearing an old pair of cargo pants and a shirt that he’d gotten when he first joined infantry two and a half decades back—it's one with the military logo on it as well as his unit number from those days. It's one of the only things he got from his military days apart from the PTSD and it's only something he wears when there's just about nothing else, but it's laundry day in the Gutterson manor so he's decided to give himself a pass.

“Found her in the engine of my truck,” Tim says. “After my last appointment with Alexander. Any new leads?”  

“WIth the Boyd case? Nah,” she says, objecting to sit on the floor in the space between Tims couch and his coffee table because Tim has sprawled out over his couch and has the kitten on his chest. “Figured I’d get Raylan’n we’d come and bug you for a while, try to get inside Boyds head a little bit.”  

“There in lies the reason you left the door unlocked,” Tim nods, having noticed she left it unlocked after she came in. “Are Dunlop, Stevens and Marino invited to this meetin’ of ours?”  

“They don’t know Boyd as well as we do,” Rachel shrugs. “What’s the furballs name?”  

“Her name is Roulette,” Tim answers. “Found her in the engine of my truck so I figured it would be funny if I named her after a transformer, and she was almost named Megatron, so I feel like I could’ve done worse.”  

Roulette is a cat of five weeks old who’s got a calico pattern of primarily orange and black with some white on her chin, stomach, and paws. She meows at pretty much all hours of the day and has given Tim’s heart a few jumpstarts since he’d found her in the engine of his truck, as well as having costed him nearly $600 in vet bills across four appointments.  

“You could’ve,” Rachel shrugs again. “She’s cute, for what it’s worth.”  

“Yeah, and she keeps me off the booze,” he says. “You told Raylan the full story yet?”  

“No,” she says. “Figured I’d leave that to you. Has he stopped trying to get details?”  

“Mostly,” Tim shrugs, rapidly opening and closing his fist in lieu of enrichment for Roulette so that he doesn’t have to think about Raylan more than he already has been.  

“You gonna tell him anything, ever?”  

“The way I see it, he doesn’t know right now and he can go on blissful in his ignorance. If I tell him, he’ll just get mad nobody told him when it happened. Act like he woulda been on a plane down here with the drop of that stupid fuckin’ stetson had you or anyone else called.”  

“You don’t think he woulda meant it, had he said it?”  

“Not really, no,” it kind of hurts to admit, but it’s the truth. Tim doubts that Raylan would’ve been at his bedside had Rachel called him, doesn’t even think he’d pick up the damn phone had Rachel gone against Tims wish and called him anyway. “I think that he’d say he would’ve, but I also think that if I looked him in the eye when he spoke, I’d see that he wouldn’t mean it.”  

“You’re only sayin’ that because of that weird little affair you two had goin’ on on and off while he was around,” Rachel says. “I notice things, Tim, and it was damn near impossible not to notice that.”  

Tim smiles, his chest slightly aching. “Careful, Rachel,” he says cautiously. “Don’t need my heart givin’ out at the reminder of that whole mess.” He says it with a clear intent in his head—get Rachel the fuck away from talking about their relationship, even if it means they talk about The Incident again,  

“Don’t make jokes like that,” Rachel says. She grabs one of the stupid decorative magazines Tim keeps on his coffee table for appearances sake and thwacks him over the head with it before she sets it back down and Tim finds himself celebrating it silently. Talking about the attack and the seizure is, for some reason, better than talking about Raylan. “Your heart attack wasn’t funny, neither was seein’ you in the middle of a damn seizure covered in your own fuckin’ vomit. I know you like a bit of dark humour, but—you gotta understand my perspective. You lived, sure, but when I walked into that bathroom, I thought you were gonna die on me. I can’t have that.”  

“I know,” he says, letting his voice take on a gentle tone as Roulette the kitten bites his finger. It’s a tone reserved for Rachel and Roulette alike, something that Raylan Givens has never heard a day in his life. “I’m sorry.”  

Waking up from the heart attack was scary enough—he couldn’t remember much about before he’d passed out apart from the drinking and the chest pain he’d thought nothing of, figuring it was a harmless side effect of the booze. Then he turned his head to the right and saw Rachel and guilt opened it’s gnarly mouth and damn near swallowed him whole.  

He doesn’t think about it much—can't unless he wants to go down a spiral that'll induce a second heart attack—but Rachels perspective of the events of that night were chronicalized so that Tim could try and jog his memory and try as he might, seven weeks gone from the day he woke up in the hospital and he has yet to forget the words she wrote on that piece of paper.  

He remembers the way her hand shook as she wrote in the notepad, remembers the steeled, determined expression on her face, completely and totally determined not to show weakness despite it all.  

“It was terrifying,” Rachel says. “Don’t you ever put me through that again.”  

Roulette the cat curls up on his chest and starts purring up a storm, and Tim reaches out, gives Rachels shoulder a squeeze.  

“You and I have spent the last eleven years since Raylan left saying that the only way we’d ever leave Kentucky was if we were transferred out by force, or we were shufflin’ out the same way we’d shuffle off’a this mortal coil, in a body bag,” Rachel says. “You promised me that once, that you’d stop being reckless.”  

“I didn’t keep that promise,” Tim says. “I know. I’m an ass at my best, Rachel. You know that.”  

“I like that about you, usually,” Rachel shrugs. “I can’t shake it, though. Every time I walk in here I get scared I’m gonna see you in the bathtub again, vomit all over your chin and your heart having gave out. I’m sorry to be a burdensome chief and friend, but I can’t deal with that alone anymore.”  

“You’re not burdensome,” Tim says. “Do you—would it—you need me to tell Raylan, for your sake, don’t you?”  

Rachel smiles. “If you wanna tell him, you can.”  

“If he wants to tell me what?” Rachel and Tim both flinch at the sound of his voice, and the sound of the door closing behind him wakes up Roulette, who protests the sleep disruption by getting on her feet and meowing as loud as her little lungs will let her.  

Tim sits up. Raylan sits across from Rachel, his gorgeous brown eyes piercing Tims in a way that makes the ache in his chest intensify.  

Tim looks at Rachel silently. Please don’t make me tell him.  

Rachel looks back at Tim. I don't think you have another option.

Tim takes a deep breath in, tries to will himself into some version of less irritated.

“You need to do a better job of making your presence known when you’re entering someones goddamn home,” Tim says, tone a bit angrier than he means for it to be. “You--it’s not—you are not allowed to freak out. No yelling, no glaring—if I see your nostrils flare or one hand gesture while you talk at me, you are picking your ass up off my floor and getting the fuck out of my apartment.”  

Roulette settles in Tims lap. Tim takes a breath in, and Raylan nods.  

“Must be serious,” Raylan says. “You have a deal.”  

“Seven weeks ago I had a heart attack,” Tim says. He watches Raylans face contort in shock, then disbelief, then anger all the space of thirty total seconds. “Rachels the one that found me, and if it weren’t for her, I’d probably be dead.”  

“And--what--” Raylans lips form an angry line and he directs the anger at Rachel first. “He had a heart attack and—seven weeks! Seven weeks and neither of you called?”  

Tim immediately takes the defense. “Hey! Don’t do that,” he says. “Don’t. If you’re gonna be angry at anyone, be angry at me. Rachel isn’t the one at fault here, and neither of us called because we didn’t see the point. You have a life in Miami, Raylan, forgive me for not calling because you have a kid and a job and a thousand different reasons as to why you wouldn’t’ve been able to drop everything and visit a coworker you haven’t worked with in more than a decade.” By the time Tim finishes, he’s out of breath but he decides it’s worth it.

He can see that his words touch a nerve, too. “You know that’s bullshit,” Raylan says. “I would’ve come running the minute Rachel asked, or the minute you did. You had a heart attack, Tim. That’s not just anything. You could’ve died.”  

“He didn’t,” Rachel says. “Calm your ass down, Raylan. I need you to focus on Boyd right now—he could be headin’ this way and we need at least an outline of a game plan to take to Mariano, Stevens and Dunlop in the morning. You know him best, so you’re at least in charge of ideas.”  

Raylan turns his glare to Tim. "I want details about this, the second you get a chance," he says. "You don't get to tell me you had a heart attack like it's as simple as asking me about the damn weather."

Tims lips form a line. He bites the inside corner of his mouth in silent protest and hates how every single emotion Raylan feels or has ever felt is displayed in his eyes. As he gives a begrudging, mildly aggressive, singular nod, he sees care that goes back a decade and anguish lingering somewhere in Raylans eyes and almost hates him for still caring after so long.  

“Fine,” he says. “Now--let’s do our jobs for an hour or two, why don’t we?”  

Rachel reaches up, scoops Roulette out from Tims lap and tucks her into the space under her chin. “I like that idea,” she intones, looking pointedly at Raylan.  

- 

That night, they do manage to get somewhere and the following day, Tim wakes up feeling refreshed and optimistic.  

Rachel does the mean thing, though. She sends him and Raylan down to Harlan to interrogate witnesses as a few have come forward with having seen Boyd down at what used to be Johnny Crowders bar, before Boyd had him killed across state lines.  

The drive to Harlan starts out silent, but Tim can tell Raylan has things he wants or needs to say, so half an hour in, he breaks the silence of his own volition.  

“All right,” he says, putting his hands up in mock surrender and glancing at Raylan, who’s sitting in the drivers seat. “That’s it—I'm done dealin’ with this. You say what you need to say to me while we’re in this damn car, and when we get to Harlan and have to step out, we get real civil with each other real quick because I spent a decade in the damn military. I can handle silences, Raylan, just as well as I can handle havin’ to sleep on a freezin’ mountain in Afghanistan or sitting in the scorching heat in Iraq, but I can’t handle ‘em when it’s clear you have shit to say and you expect me to listen but you ain’t sayin’ none of it.”  

“Why didn’t you call?” Raylan asks.  

“I didn’t think you’d come if I did,” he answers. “You say that you woulda but—it's like I said last night. You have a job, a kid, and a thousand other things keepin’ you in Miami. I didn’t think you’d come, didn’t wanna risk gettin’ my heart broken again, and didn’t wanna waste your time when I came out the other end just fine.”  

“What triggered it?”  

“Got home at midnight, drank my way through three entire bottles of Jack Daniels, a sixer of beer and an entire bottle of peach wine that my sister had sent along last Christmas,” he answers. “Guessin’ that was too much. My BAC was 0.38.”  

Raylan glances at Tim. Tim returns the gesture and their gazes meet.  

“You should’ve called,” he says. “Knowing you how I do--”  

“How you used to,” Tim cuts. “Knowing me how you used to know me—what? What are you gonna say, Raylan. You best make it believable because if you know me as well as you think you do, you know I’m gonna be able to see right through it if you’re lyin’ to me. Don’t do that.”  

“Knowin’ you how I used to to—the Tim that I knew woulda called in a heartbeat,” Raylan says. “That guy—he knew I’d drop everythin’ to get to him, no matter how far away I was.”  

Tim leans back in his seat, looks at Raylan through a lense more skeptical than he ever thought himself capable.  

“Yeah?” He asks, voice even, tone practically showing off the fact that he’s looking for a fight. “I don’t think you knew the guy I was back then, either. If you think I thought that way for longer than half a second before I came to my senses, you’re as dumb as I was goin’ into the fuckin’ military thinking it’d fix all of my issues instead of load me up with more of ‘em. I was eighteen then, Raylan. I have an excuse. What excuse do you have at 56?”  

It’s a low blow, and Tim knows that. It hurting as much as it does is the intention, and the hurt is, just like all of his other emotions, clearest in Raylans eyes. 

“That’s hardly fair,” Raylan says. “I would’ve--”  

“You keep saying that,” Tim cuts. “You’re saying it like you’re trying to make yourself believe it. I’ve got a decade of military experience under my belt and sixteen years total with the Marshals, Raylan. I pick up on that shit. Half of the sentences you’ve spoken have begun with ‘I would’ve’ like this is some sort of hypothetical. It’s not.”  

Raylan goes to defend himself, but Tim cuts him off again.  

“It’s not a hypothetical. I drank myself into a heart attack, had a seizure amidst that mess, and then when I woke up in the hospital after almost dying with Rachel sitting at my bedside as the one and only person who has consistently stuck by me whether or not I wanted her to, I told her not to call,” he says. “That--that is the reality. I don’t give a damn what you think you would’ve done had I called, whether you’re telling me that you would’ve dropped everything so that you can eventually get to a point where you believe the shit you’re spewin’ or if you actually mean it. I’m done with this conversation, Raylan. I had a heart attack, I didn’t want you there, and that’s that.”  

He’s lying, but at least he acknowledges that with himself.  

He’d told Rachel not to call Raylan and when she could see that Tim wanted him there, she offered to do it anyway. He said no again, insisted that she go home so she didn’t have to deal with the mess he’d made of himself by drinking himself into heart failure. When she refused and pretty much put her foot down, Tim had known he had no choice. He was in bed for the following few days recovering, a big part of him yearning for Raylan more than he’d ever admit to anyone, let alone Raylan himself.  

“Just--let me have this one thing,” Raylan says. “If you’d called, or if you asked Rachel to, what do you think would’ve happened?”  

Tim glares at Raylan for a second but gives in nonetheless. “All right,” he says. “Fine. I’ll play your game, but we’re doing this my way. Had Rachel been the one to call you after the ambulance had carted me off, she’d’ve called you at about quarter to seven in the morning. It’s pretty much obligation to have your ringer on in our line of work, but would you have picked up the phone that early?”  

“Yep,” Raylan says. Tim searches his face and finds he’s telling the truth.  

“All right,” he shrugs. “Would you have, our history with or notwithstanding, called Dan to tell him you wouldn’t be able to make it to work that day and gotten on the earliest flight you could get?”  

“Absolutely,” Raylan says, even nodding that time. If he’s trying to convince Tim, he’s doing too good a job at it. “Without hesitation.” 

“And--would you have stayed for at least a week, if not two, had I asked?”  

“Yeah,” Raylan gets this really sincere look in his eye when he meets Tims gaze again, and Tim swallows thickly. It’s shit like that that got his heart broken a decade past, and he’s not about to let anything like that go down again, especially not when Raylans only in Kentucky because of Boyd and would otherwise be content in avoiding it for the rest of his life. “You done?”  

“Yeah,” he says. “All right—let's play it your way. Ask me your question again.”  

“If you’d called or asked Rachel to do it, what do you think would’ve happened?”  

“Well--the Raylan I knew a decade ago would probably take at least a few minutes to answer the phone especially if he were asleep and even more so if he’d taken the day off,” Tim answers. “I don’t think you woulda picked up and I think Rachel would get tired of dialin’ your number after the fourth time, which is being generous as to her patience as I know it. I think, despite the fact that I’d had a heart attack and wasn’t picked up til about quarter to seven, even if Rachel called, when you missed the call and woke up about two hours later, you’d be in my hospital room for four thirty just like she was.”  

“Four-thirty ain’t bad.”  

“I had a heart attack and was carried away at almost seven. Had Rachel called when the ambulance came and you failed to call her back until about nine then you didn’t get into Kentucky til 4:30, it’s still bullshit. Gate to gate, Miami to Lexington is two and a half hours. What exactly coulda been more important than flyin’ in to see me that leads you to wait about four hours to catch a plane?”  

“Callin’ Dan, first off,”  

“Takes fifteen, tops. Provided you don’t shower, you can do it while you get dressed.”  

“Then Winona--”  

“That is another fifteen minutes,” Tim says. “Half an hour if it’s your week with Willa. Adding in that time, ten to two o’clock is still three hours.”  

“You’re being pedantic,” Raylan says, exasperated.  

“You used to love that about me,” Tim says, and he knows it’s the truth. Raylan had said it a few times back in the day and it's because of how odd it was that the compliment had stuck with him.

“Didn’t particularly like being your partner for a year and a half, then two years later being the rebound to your rebound.”  

“Our--” love affair? Relationship? Those words to describe it feel juvenile because he knows it was more but can’t find the word to describe ir, and partner doesn’t feel right, either. “--Thing had ended eight months before I even so much as thought about Mark like that. Do me a favour and either shut up or avoid making this into something it’s not.” 

“I’m not--” Raylan shrugs. “I just—you shot Colt over it, Tim.”  

“My motivations for shooting someone who was pointin’ a gun at me are absolutely none of your concern,” Tim rebuts. “And--it wasn’t like that.”  

“What was it like, then?”  

“It was—damnit, Raylan,” Tim laughs. He and Raylan began a weird friends-with-benefits type deal around the tail end of his first year in the Marshals service. That lasted all of a year and a half, give or take, and eight months later after they'd stopped, into his fourth year, Mark had called him for something unrelated to the debts he owed from his days of active addiction.  

He and Mark had only really fooled around a bit but in true Tim Gutterson, unwaiveringly loyal to anyone who he thinks deserves it style, he felt something real and true. It was there, and it lingered for far longer than Tim was comfortable with, and when Tim had shown up to the scene where Mark and his dealers body were both dead, that feeling evaporated without choice but simultaneously without incident.  

“How long after you shot him were you on my doorstep, just barely sober enough to make the drive over?”  

“Almost eight months,” Tim grits his teeth.  

“And--what you two had—the grief you felt, it was gone by then?”  

“You and Mark are two different people,” Tim says. “I’ve never spent much time on grief, Raylan, so yeah.”  

“Did the military teach you that?”  

“Bein’ raised in southern Indiana with siblings who ain’t spent a day in their lives worth their salt and parents who are somehow worse taught me that,” Tim rebuts. “I grieved Mark once, now shut up before I shoot you and have to grieve you twice.”  

Raylan, at least, does as Tim asks. He stops talking and the car stays quiet for the rest of the trip down to Harlan.  

- 

Raylan does the nice thing and lets Tim deliver the news, citing a need for coffee and telling him he’d bring one back around for Tims sake because they’ve finally gotten somewhere.  

Tim knocks on Rachels door with a big, stupid smile, and when she lets him come in, her expression remains neutral.  

“You get a lead?” She asks.  

“We did,” Tim nods. “A few, actually. Locals at what used to Johnnys Bar but is now a veterans bar named Kingstons gave us leads that put Boyd near Louisville but comin’ in hot.”  

“You said you had a few,” she says. “Please tell me you got one better than that or that someone elaborated with specifics as to Boyds current whereabouts even though the initial lead already put him in Harlan?”  

Tim sits down in the chair opposite her desk, grin big and wide and stupid—he's gotten himself a victory. It’ll be something positive to bring up with Alexander, who asks him for something positive at the beginning of every single Friday session.  

“Other lead puts Boyd a little more’n four hours outta Harlan,” Tim says. “Holed up in a pay-by-the-hour style motel called Charlies out in an Indiana spot called Crawford. The first lead I gave you was elaborated by someone—that lead says Boyds in Louisville but will be sniffin’ around Lexington in a couple’a days, when it becomes safer to do so, and he’ll only stay around Lexington for half a day before he heads down to Harlan, gets in touch with a few old contacts he used to have and waits it out.”  

“What’s Crowder got to wait for?”  

“More’n a decade gone and he still wants Raylan dead,” Tim shrugs. “Says the good patrons at Kingstons, anyway. Raylan and Ava are his biggest targets and try as he might, he apparently can’t find any leads as to Avas whereabouts. I say we put Nelson, Marino and Stevens on the Crawford lead.”  

“’N you, Raylan and I go check out Louisville? I like that brain of yours even when I know it’s primary objective is avoiding Indiana in it’s entire,” Rachel laughs. “Only took two weeks’n we managed to get somewheres good. Did the Louisville lead get you anywhere else?”  

“A few of his local haunts, all of which are primarily way out in the country,” Tim says. “It’s not a lot, but it’s good. More than we’ve had the last two weeks, at least.”  

Rachel nods. “You’n Raylan managed not to kill each other,” she says. “That’s good too. You two have it out?”  

“Yeah,” Tim nods. “We did, kind of.”  

“Kind of?”  

“He said his piece, I said mine,” Tim shrugs. “It’s not—we're not—it's not like it was. No hard feelings or let downs or—well—I fuckin’ hate it when you put me on the spot.”  

“Yeah, you do,” Rachel nods. “But Raylan texted asking me to make sure you don’t leave til he comes back with your coffee, so I’m doin’ it for his sake. You got an appointment with Alexander tonight?”  

“Eight through nine,” Tim says. “Or nine thirty, or ten, depending on how long I need to talk for. Raylans gonna come over once I’m done with it, and we’re going do the thing we would’ve done had the—thing—never happened. We’re gonna catch up for a bit, and the only Corona I’m having tonight is nonalcoholic.”  

“Nonalcoholic booze and pizza from—let me guess—Antonios? You lucky, lucky bastard,” Rachel smiles.  

“Yeah,” Tim nods. “How much longer do you think Raylan is going to take?”  

“The VFW is like—it's closer to the office than your apartment is,” Rachel says, tone skeptical. “What is it? Does coffee still make your chest hurt?”  

“Only if I drink it right after a run or right before or right after I’ve eaten,” Tim says. “Or if I drink too much. Just kind of—wantin' to get there, you know? They do have free decaf.”  

Rachel laughs. “What is it, really? Don’t lie to me and tell me you miss Roulette.”  

“Is a guy not allowed to miss the kitten he finds in the engine of his truck?”  

“Who, Roulette?” Raylans voice comes through the room as he enters and Tim jumps.  

“Damn it, Raylan!” He curses. “I had a heart attack seven weeks ago. You are not allowed to do that to me.”  

“Yeah,” Rachel says. “Roulette the kitten.”  

“She’s cute,” Raylan smiles. “Was always more of a dog person, but cats are the self sufficent type so I always debated gettin’ one.” 

“I didn’t pick her,” Tim says. “Found her in the engine of my truck after therapy.”  

Raylan sets down a drink tray and passes them out accordingly, giving Rachel hers first and then passing Tims to him.  

“You said coffee makes your chest hurt—I did decaf,” Raylan says. “Dunno if it’ll make much of a difference, but I figured I’d try anyway.”  

“What would—what would thirty-four year old Tim Gutterson say if he learned that forty-five year old Tim Gutterson couldn’t drink coffee without chest pain?” Rachel asks, tone teasing.  

“He’d make fun of me, no doubt,” Tim shakes his head. “Probably do the smart thing’n assume it wasn’t just age and then lose his shit at me upon learnin’ I drank us into a heart attack at forty-five years old. Then again—that dumbass has still been out of the military less time than he was in it for and he has no fuckin’ clue what’s comin’.”  

Raylan laughs and sits down to Tims right. Tim takes a sip of his coffee and hates how perfect it is. 

“Time check?” Tim asks. Raylan glances at the clock.  

“Quarter to eight,” he says. “We’ve got you for what—five more minutes, if not eight, am I right?”  

“I never went to the VFW while you were kickin’ shit up here through the beginning to the middle of the twenty-fuckin'-tens, how the fuck do you know that?”  

Raylan shrugs, smirking gently. “Guessed,” he says. “Not my fault I got it right.”  

“Bullshit,” Tim sing-songs. “Nope. No way. Did Art call? He knows I’ve been goin’.”  

“You still talk to Art?” Rachel asks. “I mean—more than once or twice very few months?”  

“He calls me every other week,” Tim shrugs. “Found out I was booze free and just about demanded he be my sponsor. I think he’s discovered how boring retirement is in the last decade since his age forced him out of the service, and now he’s projecting that onto me.”  

“You tell him about ‘The Incident’?” Raylan asks.  

“No,” Tim answers. “With how big your goddamned mouth is, I was hopin’ you’d do it.”  

“Whys he think you’re sober, then?”  

“I dunno,” Tim shrugs again. “Haven’t asked and don’t intend to.”  

Rachel laughs. “What’re you gonna do, if Raylan does tell him? Say Raylan assumes your accusation and insult are open season on tellin’ Art everything he knows, and then Art calls you all pissed off?”  

“I’m going to be dodgin’ those calls like Avas managed to dodge the US Marshals service’ locatin’ her for the past eleven goddamned years,” Tim says. “Not for eleven years, though. Eleven days, at most.”  

Rachel laughs a bit more, and Tim checks the clock before getting up in a manner that’s almost too excited.  

“Ah, it would be time,” Rachel says. “You meet Raylan and I back here for seven, all right? Louisville is only an hour and some change away, but we need as much daylight as we can get if we wanna get Boyd before he does some serious damage.”  

Tim smiles, nods, grips his to-go cup of coffee just a tad tighter than usual, and heads out.  

He makes it to the VFW with a minute to spare, is walking through Alexanders open door for eight on the dot.  

“Something positive,” Alexander says in a voice that’s almost singsonging it but not quite there.  

“We got a break in the case we’ve been workin’,” Tim says, closing the door behind him before he plops down onto Alexanders couch. “Two weeks of nothin’ and finally—we got somewhere! I’m so happy right now I could just—I could pour all of the booze in my fridge out like I’ve been meaning to do for seven weeks now.”  

“I really hope you’ll do that once you get home,” Alexander says. “Now for the heavy stuff. You been thinkin’ much about your time in the military in recent?”  

“Not since Wednesday,” Tim smiles, tight lipped, and moves into a laying down position so he can stare at the ceiling because doing that, oddly, always helps. “Bet I’m about to start, though, aren’t I?”  

Alexander gives a hearty laugh. “Monday and Wednesday we focused on your time in the infantry,” he says. “We’re not doing this structured in any particular way and you’ve had a rough few weeks and I thought we’d hit infantry first, child and teenhood trauma second, then rangers trauma last. Today is child and teenhood trauma day, likely much to your chagrin.”  

Tim takes a deep breath in. A full hour spent talking about all the ways in which his father failed him? He can handle that. Totally.  

“Okay,” Tim nods.  

“All right,” Alexander says. “First and foremost, when did you get the idea to take the ASVAB?”  

“I was—it was January of my senior year,” Tim says. “I’d grown up in an awful environment and joinin’ the military seemed like the only way out. I figured I’d take the test, join on the day I hit eighteen and then be set to go from there.”  

“How bad was your life at home?”  

“My father drank almost all the time,” Tim says. “Every single day, unless my grandparents came around.”  

“How did your mother feel about the drinking?”  

“She hated it,” Tim says it earnestly, almost hates admitting that he’d been around his family long enough to make that observation because that—by default, that means the eighteen years he’d spent under their roof were absolute shit instead of just inherently bad or difficult. “She and my old man used to get into fights over it all the time.”  

“Did those fights ever become physical?”  

“No--my father always told my brother and I traditional shit like ‘boys don’t cry’ and ‘don’t ever hit a woman!’,” Tim sighs. “My brother turned out to be worse about the alcohol than my father was, and I turned out gay, so my hitting a woman has become something of very little concern over the years, but that’s besides the point. My father never laid a hand on her; verbal and psychological abuse suited his needs just fine.”  

“And you thought that joining the military was your golden ticket?”  

“Yeah,” Tim nods. He clenches and unclenches his fists, needing something to do to distract his mind, even if that distraction is momentary. “I did. I was seventeen when I took the test, barely more than eighteen when I joined up.”  

He’d joined the week after he’d graduated, four days after his birthday. He could operate a gun and knew the precise mechanisms and tools required for cleaning one before he could legally drink in the very USA that he spent a decade serving.  

“How did your family feel about it?”  

“I left my childhood home the night before I was due in Georgia for basic,” Tim answers. “I’d told my mother—she was scared shitless but she knew there was nothing that’d stop me. My father tried by attempting to barricade me into my bedroom from the outside in, but I just climbed out the window. Neither of them liked it, but they had different reasons.” 

“What are those reasons?”  

“My mother didn’t want me to go because the idea of me dyin' scared her shitless,” Tim laughs. “She didn’t wanna lose me to the military, and no matter how much I reassured her, nothing did the trick.”  

He sits up, slides his hands down his face and plants his elbows on his knees.

“My father hated it because it meant he couldn’t control me anymore, and he didn’t realize that until he saw what little of my life I cared to bring along tucked into a suitcase, the rest of it sold or donated.”  

“Did you ever see your dad again after you left?”  

“He died before I got back from Basic,” Tim shrugs, leans back, tries to force himself to relax even though nothing does the trick. “I wasn’t even there for the funeral.”  

“Do you wish you had been?”  

“Not even a little,” Tim admits, laughing a bit, fighting the anxiety that’s creeping up on him just like it always does when he talks about his childhood or his parents, or those last very tepid few days before he joined the military. “My mother played the grieving widow and my siblings and I grieved in our own ways—Keith took to the very menial amount of booze that my father had left behind, I went to the shooting range everyday until my anger subsided and Lisa poured herself into her degree. My mother inherited the house, I inherited a few of the guns he’d wave around to scare us as kids, my brother claimed his booze collection and my sister claimed the law school textbooks he kept in his study.”  

“All right,” Alexander smiles. “Seems like we’re getting somewhere and we’ve barely been here fifteen minutes! Nice.”  

Tim knows it’s a ploy to get him to relax—he can feel the tension in his shoulders, the way that his teeth are clenched and his jaw is set.  

“Yeah,” Tim nods. “I don’t wanna lose momentum and I’d rather just get this out in the open so I don’t have to think about it—so—next thing.”  

“Tell me more about your families structure,” Alexander says. “As a start.”  

“Lisas the oldest—she's five years older than I am so she’d be fifty by now, if not close to it,” Tim says. “She sends booze at Christmas in a bid to win me over so I give her the house but we don’t talk so I can’t really remember her birthday anymore. Keith is forty-seven.”  

“Do you and Keith talk?”  

“He calls me once every few months,” Tim shrugs. “I should really stop pickin’ up the phone, but—he's my brother, you know?”  

“It can be hard to let go of family ties,” Alexander nods. “How did your siblings feel about you bein’ in the military?”  

“Keith thought it was cool. He joked a few times that I’d be the only one in our family to ever make it out of Indiana. He was right and sometimes I hate him for it a little bit, you know?” Tim says. “If Lisa felt anything, she didn’t show it—the opposite of love is indifference, and sometimes I think that's all she's ever felt."

Alexander laughs a little. Tim, absently, finds that he'd rather shrivel up and die than divulge more of his childhood or teenage years, but he does it anyway for his own sake.

Alexander asks him more about his family, and Tim tells him everything he wants to know, dissociating his way through the process because of how mentally draining it gets.  

He talks about his first ever time seeing a gun—he was seven, his father was pissed, and he was threatening to kill everyone in the kitchen a la murder suicide—and then the first time he ever watched his father get so angry over something he felt the need to scream—he'd been nine, it was because a candle his mother had lit had been left to burn til the wick was put out by being submerged under the wax—and then went on further to talk about the explosive reactions his father had to every academic failing during his middle and high school years, the way that his father used to smile when Tim would flinch and how by the time he was seventeen, he stopped flinching and learned that just staring straight ahead was the best option because eventually, his father would get bored of his torments and either go locate his mother or go to his study.  

When he’s done, it’s 9:30 and he’s drank the coffee Raylan had gotten him in it’s entire. He leaves the VFW with a certain kind of weight in his chest, the kind he’d’ve drank away if he could still drink without fearing one sip would send his heart into overdrive.  

- 

Fourteen hours later, they have a lead at last. Raylan and Tim are cooperating with each other and despite the fact that Raylan, ever one to enjoy the front passengers seat, has been booted to the middle back seat of Tims truck, things are going decently.  

After spending a good three or so hours in Louisville, they have a concrete lead that will place Boyd in or around Harlan come nightfall. He’ll be at Kingstons bar and Rachel has decided to have Tim and Raylan there while she waits posted with Dunlop, Stevens and Marino just down the road from Avas old place, just in case Boyd swings by on the off chance the lead was wrong.  

What used to be known as Johnny Crowders bar among the locals is now Kingstons, a spot not too unlike the VFW: only vets and their guests are permitted entry.  

He and Raylan linger at a table near the back, Tim nursing a nonalcoholic modelo—which, having drank the alcoholic version of the same, he will never understand Rachels preference for Modelo over Corona or just about any other beer on the market—and Raylan is drinking a bourbon.  

They’re in a spot just hidden enough to not be visible from the door but visible if you take a seat at the bar and decide to look around a little bit. Raylan isn’t wearing his hat, thankfully, and Tim is dressed as nondescript as he can be, wearing a pair of black jeans, the same green carhartt he’d decided to wear upon going back to the VFW for therapy, and a black leather jacket because it’s fuckin’ mid-October in Kentucky and therefore, cold.  

He’s deep in thought like he always is whenever he’s surrounded by people who’ve had experiences similar to his own, and Raylan is quick to pick up on that.  

“Relax,” Raylan says, his voice gentle. “I can see the cogs turning in your fried veteran brain.”  

“My brain’s not fried, my heart is,” Tim rebuts. “And--there are no cogs to turn anyway. I’m fine.”  

“Are you?” He’s thinking about his time in the rangers after hearing a few guys his age talk about their time only a table or two away, so he’s not, but he’s not going to tell Raylan that.  

“Yes,” Tim says, albeit a little forcefully. “I’m good. You don’t need to worry about me—I'm asking you not to worry about me.” 

In truth, his mind is on his second tour in Afghanistan and his second-last tour with the military as a whole. He’s somewhere between the glint of the scope on his rifle and laughing with Mark on base, feeling his shoulder touch Marks as he finally eases up enough to be capable of sleeping through the night.  

Raylan shrugs. “You seem jumpy,” he says. Tim picks up the Modelo, takes a sip and fights his grimace. He’s going to finish it no matter how much he dislikes the damn thing—it costed him too much not to drink it entire.  

“I’m not,” Tim denies. He has half a mind to tell Raylan the truth but he doesn’t. Raylans not a vet, he wouldn’t understand, he works in law enforcement. but he’s always lived a civilian lifestyle--or at least these are the excuses Tim uses to justify it. Raylan has spent his entire life a civilian, never gone a decade without it like Tim had done willingly when he thought the military was his only way out of a crappy home and a crappy city in Indiana.  

“Okay,” Raylan says. “Just--talk. You look to me like you’re three seconds away from wanderin’ off on me entirely and I would really rather not have that happen. We’re going to talk about The Incident.”  

“I thought we were done with that,” Tim realises that Raylans doing this because he can sense that something is off, and even as his mind runs through active zones of combat from his days working infantry, he’s grateful for it.  

“I told Art,” Raylan confesses, the words whispered and the guilt evident in his tone.  

“Well,” Tim laughs, grips the Modelo like his life depends on it as he tries to remember what Alexander had told him to do when his trauma was manifesting in the form of brutal flashbacks and anxiety. "I’ll be avoiding his calls for the next several days.”  

“Are you havin’ a panic attack?” Raylan asks, voice calm and even. “It looks to me like you’re havin’ a panic attack.”  

He takes a deep breath in, his mind somehow trapped in three separate places all at once.  

“I dunno,” Tim says. He takes another sip of the Modelo, tries to calm his mind again, only to find it doesn’t work. He takes in another deep breath, and then he feels the rough but still sort of soft skin of Raylans palm against the top of his left hand, and that—it just—fuck.  

It snaps him right back to reality, works better than any deep breathing ever has, and he snaps his hand away despite wanting that contact. Raylan, he decides, does not get to touch him like that. Not given their history coupled with the fact that he'd never have come back to Kentucky if not for a case or the fact that it'd been Rachel who'd asked him back around.

“Okay,” Raylan says. “I told Art about the heart attack.”  

“How’d he react?”  

“He was angry you hadn’t told him,” Raylan says. “He said he’d mention it eventually, but only if you didn’t first and he got sick of waitin’. He was shocked Rachel didn’t call either, but that doesn’t surprise me at all. I suspect she ran the necessary channels by you, and you vetoed everyone except her and maybe Dunlops presence in the—what, three, four days you spent in the hospital recoverin’?”  

Tim takes his lip between his teeth, the sound of Marks laughter and the smell of gunpowder fading just to a point where they’re tolerable.  

“Just Rachel,” he says. “No Dunlop. Just her.”  

“You two have been workin’ together since—well, forever,” Raylan snorts. “And neither of you have transferred out?”  

“Contrary to what you believe, Kentucky is not a universally hated state,” Tim laughs. “I’ve lived here for sixteen years and I like it just as much as I did my first week. Rachel and I have had a running joke since before you came around—only way either of us is leavin’ Kentucky is if we’re transferred out and forced, or if we go at the same time we shuffle off this side of the ground.”  

Raylan laughs in turn, and Tim sighs. It, really, doesn’t feel like Boyd’s gonna come in. Maybe the lead they had had fed them bullshit?  

“Where abouts did you grow up, anyhow?” Raylan asks.  

“Indiana,” Tim shrugs. “Small town about ninety miles outside of Corydon. Smaller than Corydon, too.”  

“How much smaller?”  

“Corydon has more than three thousand people,” Tim says. “My town has barely enough to breakeven with 1000, and that’s on a good day.”  

Raylan snorts, and of course, their conversation somewhat slows. Raylan gets up to piss and Tim heads out to smoke the last cigarette in his pack, sticks close to his truck in the process. He idly checks his phone, sees that Rachels found nothing while waiting at Avas. He reports back that he and Raylan have yet to hit the jackpot, finishes his smoke down to the last puff and puts it out with his foot.  

Instead of going back in, searching for a trashcan, he objects to put the empty cigarette carton back in his truck. He stores it in the center console, figuring he’ll just throw it out once he’s home and the only person who can judge him for smoking at all is himself.  

As soon as he closes the door of his truck, he’s knocked out cold.

[teddybeartoji]

mickey !!! mickey !!!!! bonking my head against yours so gently <3333 i’m here with more selfship questions…… the train never stops

first of all!!! mickeyshoko…… i neeeed to know the Lore pls. ALSOOOO what are some ways you express your love for one another??? :3 since it’s not an established relationship exactly (from what i understand!!) i was also wondering how either of you would respond if someone asked if you were dating LMAO… i’m just imagining stsg making bets with each other over it. they’re silly.

AND THEN. mickzai. the kitties of all time. i’d love to know more abt the general dynamic!!! and how you got together!!!!! and also what petnames you call each other :3 bc i feel like dazai would be….. insufferable. genuinely. you need to muzzle him i think.

OK THAT’S ALL here r flowers for you 💐💐 i hope you’re having a cozy day so far!!! and that you’re resting lots and eating lots :3 ilyily <3

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEARIIIII I'M GIGGLING SO BAD RNNNN

misho oh misho..... i still don't have a proper name for us (how ironic lmao)(it's almost like i don't really know what we are huh). anwayyy i like to show my love through acts of service!!!!!! she works so hard so i try to make her life a little easier yk? i spend a lot of time at her place (we're practicaly roomies at this point) and i like to make her coffee in the mornings!!!!!! and at night when she comes home after a long, tiring day i draw her a bath and i was her hair!!!!!!!!! she can just soak and relax while i sit on the edge of the tub and scratch her scalp i'm pretty sure i've heard her purr actually. she usually just peeks at me very lazily with the tiniest little smirks. mm she kinda makes me feel dizzy i won't even lie. she's so effortlessly charming in her own way you know? also to add to the "no lines to cross" thing - nudity is also just very normal. as in there's no shame and no embarrassment, i literally sometimes help to dry her off bc she likes to be a little dramatic and act even more tired (she IS actually that tired but she's trying to make a joke out of it).

and she shows it through physical touch!!!!! hugging from behind as i make the coffee, playing with my hair, sitting on my lap, hands on the waist, kisses on the corners of my lips (???????????????i'm so unwell). and then she always laughs at the little lipstick smudge before wiping it off. anyway all of those things could come off as very relationship-like right???? but no. we're friends. definitely just friends. we both want to dissect each other. as friends.

the dating thing!!!!!! what a good question lmao i think we'd just laugh it off really easily actually. i just go "hmmmm i don't know... are we?" and then we stare at each other and then she just squeezes my thigh with a smile????????????? nothing normal is happening here honestly i think even stsg are a little weirded out hahahshasha even they (by they i mean suguru bc satoru is genuinely stupid sometimes<3) can't figure us out

and not to make myself lose it even more but..... utahime.............. she's not safe from us either lmao. we both have pretty strong gazes i think and we simply can't keep our hands to ourselves. fleeting touches and keen eyes... we like to tease utahime a little. but only in a good FRIENDLY way. we love her she's sooooooo cute.

btw can you tell i'm typing this out just as it comes like the lore is just writing itself at this point. it also seems that i'm making mickeyshoko sound like some predators:333 like yea so what if we're kind of freaks ok it's fun don't judge. blood is cool. humans are cool. we just wanna learn more.

(=◑ᆽ◑=)ฅ(ටᆽට=) this is mizai hehehe. also yes. i rebranded. hehehehehhee anyway. two kitties!!!!!!! two dysfunctional kitties lmao

ok but mizai feels like a we-knew-each-other-when-we-were-kids-but-then-we-didn't-see-each-other-for-years-and-now-we-met-again-but-it's-not-weird-ok-it-is-but-only-a-litte-it's-just-that-the-surpressed-feelings-are-threatening-to-spill-and-that's-a-little-scary

and we have another No Label relationship on our hands fuuuuckk.... anywho. he's coping with this better than i am. no matter how much i shove him around and tease and joke, he flusters me way too easily. it's annoying. and i wanna hate it. but i can't bc it feels so good to link pinkies with him. he's super clingy - he's constantly resting his head on my shoulder, loosely wrapping his arms around my waist, tugging on my sleeves when he wants attention. he boops my nose and pretends to count my freckles.

the tender moments aside, this is still very much a partners-in-crime thing too!!!!!! and i mean that quite literally lmao. we both have authority issues so good luck to anyone who's trying to boss us around; we've definitely also done some schenanigans - stolen some things here and there bc why not, broken into places, trespassing etcetc. it's not even necessarily for the thrill of it, most of the times he's just showing me quiet places where we can just sit with each other. he likes to rest his head on my lap and then talk my ears off. sometimes he falls asleep and i refuse to wake him bc he needs the rest. i kiss his forehead and hope (me when i lie) that he didn't feel it (he did). but yeah the overall dynamic is pretty much just skk i won't even lie. bickering and teasing, petty fights over nothing just bc he likes to rile me up - it's all way too familiar.

he doesn't bring it up though bc he doesn't really know how. he wants more of it but he doesn't know how to ask for it. how to really ask for it. so he'll take whatever he can get and he'll try to push me to give him more because he's greedy!!!! and i will fold and i will, in fact, give him everything soon enough.

he fucking breaks into my apartment all the time btw. and when i offer to idk... give him a key he just goes "eeh, no need." ?????????? idk he's weird. (i like it when he comes over but i won't tell him that)(he'd be way too smug i can't allow that)

when i first got into bsd i didn't really like the bella nickname but honestly... it has grown on me. but yeah overall he uses literallllyyyy every possible nickname that pops into his head i kinda hate him (me when my pants are on fire)(yk bc.. liar liar pants on fire)(whatever). now that i'm thinking abt it i feel like another name he'd call me is just Kitty ????? not in a discord kitten kind of way though he just genuinely sees me as a cat. and he thinks it's funny. and cute (i like the name smhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh)

o wait i didn't even finish the meeting story. he disappeared into thin air at the ripe age of 15 hmmmmmm but he found his way back into my life three years later and then we were inseparable again yayy (there is definitely some angst hidden away in here lmaoo pls i'm scared of angst i don't wanna think abt it)(i wouldn't know how to ask about the missing years)(it sucks)

OKEEEEEEE THIS WAS A BIG RAMBLEEE I HOPE YOU CAN UNDERSTAND EVERYTHING HEHEHEHEHE it really is so fucking fun to delve into these holy fucking shit. like i'm learning things abt myself too lmaoo

YAYAAA OKAY ARIIII THANK YOU SOOO MUCH FOR THE QUESTIONS I LOVE YOU SOSOSO BAD I HOPE YOUR DAY IS GOING WELL AND I HOPE YOU SLEPT WELL AND I JUST NEED YOU TO BE WELL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I CAN'T WAIT TO HEAR MORE ABT YOUR SELFSHIPS TOO I AM ALWAYS READY TO LEARN MORE!!!!! MWAH MWAH MWAH MY FAVOURITE LITTLE IRIS<33333333

[vermillioncrown]

ands snippet: duck tolling and retrieving

as teased yesterday, the snippet on how vivienne meets tim, and how tim gets involved with the bats in this 'verse. tim accidentally noses his way into bat business and makes a mess. vivienne is the collateral and is not happy about it.

(tim is 11, jason is 13, dick is 18, bruce is early 30s and ros&vi are mid 30s)

if you guys spot cursed aughties teen fashion/styling choices -> @rozaceous and i made choices okay

===

In a rush of sudden, sobering clarity, Vivienne stands up from the table. "I need to make a call." She glares down at the preteen across the table and adds, "Don't run. You won't like it if I have to chase you down again."

Her captive audience nods, long bangs flopping comically with his vigorous motion. Wide baby blue eyes, looking at most 100 lbs sopping wet, still clutching his skateboard in a death grip—Timothy Jackson Drake would pass as a commonplace patron of Robinson Park. Innocuous. Benign. But the trouble he's caused her over the past month…

Right. That's why it was on sight for her as she was driving off for lunch break. But it's also a reminder that she doesn't often let her temper get the best of her, despite the naysayers at the office. She's curt and all business, and the type of work that's under her purview doesn't tolerate carelessness. Every action is carefully considered and executed to the best of her ability.

And this fucking teenybopper, this little skater boy, almost ruined everything.

Even so, her reaction was admittedly…rash.

"So, I might have done something rash," she says as such to Ros as soon as her girlfriend picks up the phone.

"You’re lucky I’m in between clients and you have ten minutes until I’m at Marius’s place.” Despite the snappy comment, Ros isn’t mad. Little chuckles come out naturally with her exhales as she walks. “Which closet do we need to clear out now? Can you fit everything into the car?”

“What? I’m not keeping a child in a closet!”

“—what?”

“—huh?”

Vivienne stops. Finds herself at a loss for words with the complete overshoot of the conversation’s trajectory.

“Go on—you have me piqued. Why do you have to put a child in a closet?” She pauses for dramatic effect, letting Vivienne stew. “Which, by the way, is not where we put children.”

“Okay, this phone call was…kinda rash, then,” Vivienne admits.

“Well, you’ve got me now, no take backs.”

“Okay, fine—I saw him.”

“Him?”

“The Termite.”

“…no. Nooooo, Vi, don’t—he—he’s still whole and healthy, yes?!”

“I’m already in a fucking metric ton of hot flaming garbage, I’m not adding homicide into the mess!” Vivienne hisses. She glances back through the crack of the door, view to the table clear where Drake—the Termite of her life, as they’ve been calling him for the last three weeks of this debacle—is still sitting like someone glued him to his seat. “…it could be aggravated assault if his parents catch wind.”

“Vi, I was joking, please tell me you’re joking.”

“He’s fine. Just rumpled from some. Um. Manhandling.”

Ros doesn’t say anything for a minute. But Vivienne knows her well enough to know that she knows Vivienne well enough to know exactly what happened.

Weeks of internal investigation, legal red tape, forced paid leave, all devices checked and wiped…it all forms the toxic legal mire that’s export control and proprietary information being so blatantly compromised. Important projects due for a midterm review halted. Possible lawsuits if collaboration was involved with certain data. The budget—

Forget the corporate throat-slitting some of the other D-Suites and ladder climbers are trying to leverage with this incident—annoying but ultimately, being the equivalent of Lucius’s favored workplace poodle means he’ll swat away all detractors. She won’t lose her position and it’s not like she cares to climb any higher.

But the indignity of the damage done from the harebrained plot of a fucking kid, to her—

That he targeted her and her device for some incomprehensible reason and fucking managed—

It’s like someone knocking on her front door, her opening to answer it in good faith, and they rush in to pee on the carpet before anyone would have the wherewithal to stop them.

What is anyone supposed to do in that situation? How is someone supposed to feel after that?!

She saw him ditching class at the skate park, like he didn’t have a single worry in his little puffball bobblehead brain, and admittedly lost her shit. He’s lucky she only scruffed him—she could have strung him up by his oversized crew neck sweater sleeves and tied him into a knapsack instead.

…a fucking emo kid skater boy, with the quintessential TWLOHA crew neck, managed to hack into her fucking laptop. The audacity.

“…That’s aggravated assault, yes.” Ros’s voice breaks through the current wave of anger.

Vivienne lets out a frustrated whine in response. They both let the situation sink in for a moment as they consider their next moves. It takes more than a minute but the mutual silence is productive.

“Well, he must be terrified out of his goddamn mind right now,” Ros brings the conversation back, tone forcibly casual.

“You’d immediately fall for his ‘I’m baby’ wet eyes if you were here,” Vivienne says. The quipping grounds her, brings her back to focused assessment.

Ros laughs and it makes her feel better immediately. “Considering Kevin fears for his immortal toad-shaped soul every time you breathe around him and you actually like him, the Termite might count himself lucky to escape with life and limb intact.”

Huh. That…might be the play here.

“Of course, just a talking-to, and then I’ll send him on his way,” Vivienne promises. “Being that he nearly got away with what he did, I don’t think he understands that he’s bitten off more than he can chew. It’s only fair that someone tells him.”

“Yeah, it could be worse next time—skipping grades straight to Yale,” Ros agrees.

“All Yale, no Yob.” Vivienne’s chest feels lighter. It’ll be fine. “Okay, thanks for picking up. I’ll see you tonight?”

“Won’t be too late. Oh, and I’m sending the cavalry with the expensive lawyers your way.”

“Oh Jesus, no—”

“—bye!” And Ros hangs up.

Vivienne looks at her phone. She has…twenty minutes to an hour to impart the fear of god and federal-level criminal repercussions without outwardly threatening a twelve-year-old. In a public, if secluded, restaurant.

At least she asked for private seating?

Whatever, she’s worked with less. Vivienne rolls her neck, hears the satisfying crack, breathes in deep, and puts her Workplace Smile on before making her way back to where she’s left the Termite.

===

“You vibrating the car isn’t going to make us go faster,” Dick calls out peevishly. “Are you auditioning for the Flash?”

“Shut up, Dickiebird. I’m worried about Aunt Vi,” Jason snaps back. He does stop shaking his leg, though.

Dick’s worried, too, which is why he’s trying to concentrate on the road—traffic picks up earlier on Fridays, and he doesn’t need to add a car accident on top of extracting Aunt Vi from a possible lawsuit, on top of the information security compromise she’s currently dealing with. Jason’s obnoxious frosted tips keep distracting him in the periphery every time he turns his head, looking out the windows like he can mentally will the car to teleport.

Why the hell did Aunt Vi egg Bruce on to let Jason do that to himself? And why the hell did Aunt Ros not stop either of them?

…if Aunt Vi goes to jail for murdering a kid, justified anger or not, none of these questions will be answered, and though Aunt Ros is a deft hand with Bruce she’s not the one that wrangles the Batman.

Jokes aside, he’s not as worried as Jason because Aunt Vi’s not the type to get violent, even if her demeanor is like a psychic aura that inflicts fear based on proximity. It’s not like she beats people up, even at her workplace where her subordinates scuttle like little bugs around her. She doesn’t even swat at Bruce when he’s pissing her off, despite having the stones to jab her finger into his chest plate as she reams him out for fucking up the Batmobile’s suspensions again.

But she’s usually in control or a position of power. She’s never been made to lose her cool; at least, not while Dick’s been around to see or hear about it. This is the first time she’s been brought this low—even when Bruce was bleeding out all over her that night, Aunt Ros performing first aid on panicked autopilot, Aunt Vi was coolly deciding their next move to get Bruce to safety unnoticed. She had no qualms plucking the control fob for the Batmobile from him and told him to, “Sit the hell down, boy—that car’s more mine than His Dark Grace’s, with the amount of man-hours I’ve put in.”

(And he did sit the hell down at that tone.)

Little Timothy Drake did a number on her; Dick can’t help but feel guilty for not nipping it properly in the bud when they first met. He’s still not sure what to make of the kid. It’d be easy to write him off as an obsessed thrill-seeker, one of those nuts on the conspiracy boards he checks every so often…but what he did goes beyond the risk and effort for those types. From Aunt Vi’s recounting and Bruce’s investigation, it’s most likely that Timothy swapped her USB dongle for a fake one—a ducky—when he was visiting Drake Industries on the day she was meeting with the Drakes themselves. From that, he brute-forced connected to her laptop and was able to hold her device hostage unless she heard him out.

Aunt Vi’s never the type to let herself get pressed. She immediately shut it all down and turned her everything over to WayneTech’s IT department, which then got their internal affairs department involved. If only that was the end of that—she explained, with forced patience to Jason’s naive questioning, that she might also be in trouble with federal regulations because of the type of projects she has her hands in and what data might be compromised from the incident. And then because she’s private sector, IP laws and proprietary rights might be involved as well. So, the legal department was now involved as well as law enforcement.

“But you didn’t give the hacker anything?!” Jason was indignant on her behalf.

“Doesn’t matter. Compromised is compromised. I’d be facing federal prison if I didn’t report it and something got traced back to me.” She looked exhausted, despite being two weeks in on her forced paid leave while Lucius Fox put out fires on her behalf. “This is serious shit, Jason. Can’t just yell or punch it away.”

It took a few days for Bruce and Dick, off the books, to establish with high confidence—based on scant security footage, careful questioning, and timetable corroborations—that a kid literally walked into the meeting room of his parents’ company, plugged something in, and walked right out. The laptop has already been scrapped by IT so they couldn’t trace the connection to confirm. But there was enough circumstantial evidence, along with hints that Timothy knew their identities when they met, that this was some desperate attempt to get into contact with Gotham’s nocturnal denizens.

He sure has what he wanted, now. Bruce looked into everything—him, his parents, their dealings, contacts, family friends, family history, his nannies, hired help. Janet and Jack Drake, with Drake Industries in a bit of hot water, started arranging discreet shipping services for certain families with points of contact in Gotham. Likely, something about that situation spooked the kid into asking for help in all the wrong ways.

Thing is—Aunt Vi’s collateral. There are a few things she’ll admit to hating with a passion: unnecessary collateral (with that, wastefulness), ungratefulness, and cockroaches dead or alive. What she’ll never admit to hating: Dick’s hair (he’s working on it, it just needs a little time), being caught off-guard, and needing to ask for help. Here, she’s their collateral, caught off-guard in the worst way, she needs their help, and this could have all been avoided if they took a direct approach earlier. Aunt Vi doesn’t do upset well, so she gets angry. And she doesn’t like getting angry, so it makes her angrier.

She doesn’t have an outlet right now. All she has had to do for two weeks was to sit with her anger and think. She’s really good at thinking hard, and even better at acting decisively when she’s done.

Oh jeez…last Bruce heard from Aunt Ros, the kid’s still alive. Dick prays it stays that way.

===

They pull into the valet parking lot of the restaurant given by the address. Both him and Jason give it a once over, make eye contact, and come to the same conclusion: it’s too nice of a place for Aunt Vi to lose her shit in. Homicide is looking less likely with each passing minute. As for Timothy’s mental state—jury’s still out on that one.

It takes a bit of name-dropping to get the maître d' to lead them to the private dining parlor where Aunt Vi and her victim are seated. The main dining room isn’t too busy at the moment and none of the patrons look perturbed. That means no yelling or hysterics thus far. When they reach the parlor and the maître d' smartly dismisses himself to get more waitstaff, Dick can finally see the situation. Jason sucks in a breath through his teeth.

“Early dismissal today?” Aunt Vi dabs the corners of her mouth with the serviette before facing them. Yikes—she has that smile on. “You two must be hungry, then. Come sit; keep Little Timothy company.”

Dick doesn’t know a single kid over the age of seven that would tolerate being called ‘Little’ the way Aunt Vi does. Contrary to that, Luke’s his age and bitches non-stop about Aunt Vi condescending him, yet he’s the first to ask “how high?” if she orders everyone to jump (he also takes everything she says as gospel, but that’s neither here nor there). In the same way, Timothy looks like a bug subjected to the sun under a magnifying glass, writhing and dying under her considering gaze. Not that he’s actually dying at the table—it’s just the terrified misery on his face, and the way he squirms without showing signs of wanting to bolt. It’s like he can’t bring himself to even think of fleeing.

Aunt Vi, on the other hand, is back to her regular polish and cool affect. Lipstick without a single smudge, hair pinned, business wear tailored to the millimeter. She looks untouchable and far from the wanness of just a few days ago. That smile, in particular, means nothing good for the recipient. It’s not a happy smile; in fact, it’s not a smile at all—the expression is the socially acceptable version of a predator baring their fangs before going for the throat.

Nonetheless, he and Jason immediately take their seats. It should seem like the two of them are flanking Timothy on Aunt Vi’s behalf, but it feels more like ‘her half of the table’ and ‘their half of the table.’ Dick catches her once-over of both him and Jason, the micro-expressions of judgment before flattening, and then she reaches over to baby Jason.

“You’ll like this,” she says like it’s a foregone conclusion, neatly cutting up a portion of the fish on her plate and placing it on Jason’s. “If not, there’s another dish that’ll sit well with you until dinner.”

“I’m not being starved,” Jason protests, but he immediately picks up his fork and eats what she puts on his plate.

“And you”—Dick freezes when she turns to him—”eat a fruit and get some sunlight. Did you find your true calling as a ninja turtle up in New York?” She says ‘New York’ with the typical Gothamite sneer that’s now noticeable after being back in town.

Her comment, however, makes his face immediately heat up out of his control. But he still tries to do what he came here for; if it wasn't for Bruce's literal cracked ribs, Dick wouldn't bother being 'delegated'. “Uh, Aunt Vi, B sent us to help you out?” The way his voice cracks at the end makes him want to wince.

Jason snickers and Dick kicks him from across the table.

“No need. It’s Little Timothy that needs your help, rather,” she says, turning her gaze onto the kid in question. He looks at them with the comically bug-eyed expression that combines the remnant of fear, incredulity, and quiet awe. “If you’ll tell them what you told me?” She gives him an expectant look.

Timothy rattles off on command. Thankfully, they’ve been looking into the Drakes recently, otherwise the deluge of information that spills out of him would be a mess to keep up with. Most of what he says has been covered by their investigation, some bits add more context, and it turns out the Drakes’ lives are in more danger than their outside perspective showed.

And damn, does this kid get around.

“Very good,” Aunt Vi stops him. “I’ll leave it in your capable hands,” she tells Dick—who feels himself automatically straightening his posture—and then looks down at her watch. “Lunch ran later than I wanted. Make sure Little Timothy gets home. He could do with more supervision.” She gets up from the table and pushes in her chair, grabbing her handbag from the console table by the parlor door. “Feel free to order more if you’re hungry, it’s on my tab. And Little Timothy”—the kid snaps up at the address—”remember to tell your parents.”

“Y-Yes, Ma’am!”

The three of them wait until the clacking of her heels disappear once far enough into the main dining space, and both Dick and Jason turn towards Timothy. He shrinks back at the sudden attention.

“I’m really sorry,” he blurts out, looking miserable and contrite. “Ms. Yang said I caused a lot of trouble that could have made things worse for me, and I really didn’t mean to—”

“—kid, it’s fine—”

“—I just needed help,” he ends his verbal vomit on that browbeaten note.

Dick and Jason give each other discreet looks.

“We know, we’re gonna help,” Jason says. “It’s taken a bit of time, but we have a plan, okay?” He then peruses the spread on their table. “We should get dessert.”

“I’m down,” Dick says with a shrug. “And then let’s get you home, Timothy?”

“…Tim,” he mumbles.

“Tim—pick whatever dessert you want, and I’ll take you home, alright?” Dick coaxes the kid. “Don’t want your parents to worry.”

Jason perks up. “Right…wait, what did Aunt Vi want with your parents?” He gives Dick a quick look. “Thought she just told us to ‘handle it.’”

The distress that was slowly ebbing away with Aunt Vi’s departure suddenly wells up again on Tim’s face. He looks completely beside himself.

“She, uh, some—something about an internship? At WanyeTech.” Tim doesn’t look like he knows enough details to explain. “Which is really cool, don’t get me wrong, but I don’t know what—” he clams up again. It’s apparent he has no idea what to make of anything and looks to be giving himself a huge headache with trying to detangle his thoughts. “Aren’t I in a huge boatload of trouble? I already messed up with the laptop, what if I mess up on this internship?” His hands grab at his hair. “I don’t think I’m allowed to say no if I’m being offered an internship like that?”

“Sixth graders don’t get offered internships,” Dick says slowly. “And why do you even know about them?”

“My parents talk about them a lot,” Tim explains, tone still miserable and panicked. “And I know—so maybe I’m still in trouble and Ms. Yang is going to set me up to get in trouble because she already knows—”

Jason’s expression says it all: ‘Forget I asked.’

Dick agrees. Whatever Aunt Vi did to lecture poor Tim Drake—she now lives as a rent-free boogeyman in his mind. Come what may, that’s not his business anymore. As long as Tim’ll make it life and limb intact, that’s all Dick is able to handle.

===

end summary:

tldr vivienne points out exactly the shitload of trouble tim's hacking could have gotten him into, especially because he got caught. she's also dissecting his whole plan and ripping it (and his fragile preteen ego) to shreds the entire time.

bc tim actually is a smart freak and vivienne's been around enough of these smart freaks to know you can't ignore them, the 'internship' is more like summer camp + keeping tim out of trouble + her fixating on his thought processes and going "no. wrong. do better."

the hacking investigation does go away, was hairy for a bit

he ends up following her around like a little duck, coupled with the ducky and his last name, ros nicknames him 'duckie', he doesn't end up caping in this 'verse. runs comms and ops, tho

dick to luke fox: lol aunt vi's replaced you

dick, later: i did not mean to make a 17yo start beefing with an 11yo

[paradox-destroyer]

Unsung Allies

October 16, 4:30pm

"That's what you wanna know?" Giacomo turned his head slightly and scratched the back of his neck. "As it happens, we're actually waitin' on a pal... Though we don't know if they'll be comin' back."

"A pal...?" Clive pushed his glasses closer to his face as he pondered the words he heard. "A close friend of yours, are they?"

Arven rolled his eyes as he listened to the man in the giant pompadour talk to the now-former Dark-Type Team Star boss.

This is so stupid, he thought to himself.

Not only did he have to take on 30 pokemon, but he had to battle this joke with his obnoxiously decorated Revavroom and loud music. At least his Vespiquen seemed to be in a good mood to listen to him.

The whole ordeal didn't come without it's challenges. Vespiquen had been the only Pokemon on his team that really had an advantage. He was lucky that the pompadour-clad man had a Quaxwell who was just as competent, not to mention healing items on-hand.

While it did feel like a waste of time, surprisingly it did make for some good training, especially for his Wooper.

He was far from where he needed to be, of course. With two Pokemon not even ready to evolve yet, he had a lot to learn, and a long ways to go. If nothing else, however, battling Team Star and convincing them to leave him alone seemed like a surefire way to get him there sooner.

"We haven't heard from 'em in, I dunno...must be a year and a half now. We thought that if we kept Team Star going-"

He had tuned a good majority of the conversation out as he thought about his next course of action. He figured that his best move were to take down at least two more gyms before taking on the next titan, then the next team star raid. More than likely, he would have to build up more of his team this way.

At the current moment, he was not too concerned about finding another Pokemon. He had two Pokemon with a type advantage for the next two gyms, not to mention the stony cliff titan. He needed to think more on what moves he could teach his Pokemon at this moment.

"So, Team star and this Big Boss of yours... They're really that important to you?" asked Clive.

"Is the sky blue?" Asked Giacomo, now beaming. "Let me put it in a way that an egghead like you'll understand: They're my greatest treasure!"

"Cool story," said Arven, finally speaking up. "Are we done here?"

"Yeah, guess so," said Giacomo, his expression and tone becoming somewhat dejected "Sorry we've been bothering you so much, Arv."

"Don't call me that," said Arven, as he started walking away, "We're not friends. You don't get to nickname me."

"Right- gotcha... See you around, Arven!" Replied Giacomo, waving to the boy.

"I suppose I'll head out myself... Thank you for speaking with me," said Clive, waving to Giacomo as he started on his way.

"Wait a minute, hairdo," Giacomo called out to Clive, "I got one more thing to say to you."

Clive stopped in his tracks and turned back around to face the student. "Of course," he said, "What's up, man?"

Giacomo sighed. "Listen..." He walked up to Clive and put his hand on the old man's shoulder, speaking in a hushed tone. "That kid walkin' out? Keep an eye on him, alright? Think he really needs someone, right now."

"Do you mean Arven," asked Clive, before smiling. "You don't have to worry about my home slice over there, I got his back."

"No, I mean really keep an eye on him," insisted Giacomo, "He's not in a good place in his mind right now, I can tell."

"I see..." said Clive, as his tone leaned slightly towards the softer tone of a concerned Director, "I suspected as such, but might you elaborate on what you mean?"

"I'm not exaggeratin' when I say that Team Star is the reason I'm still around," said Giacomo, "And as someone who's been in a dark place myself, I got a sixth sense for knowin' when somebody needs help. And I think he needs all the help he can get right now. He won't accept Team Star's support, but maybe you could get through to him, somehow."

Clive fell quiet, his expression becoming somewhat horrified, but quickly he shook it off, giving Giacomo a soft smile. "As long as I'm around," he reassured, "Arven won't ever go without a means of support."

Giacomo smiled and patted the disguised director's shoulder. "Thanks. We're all really worried about the guy. He might be angry but he's a good guy deep down, y'know? Watched him stand up to a kid making fun of another kid's mom, before. He didn't gain our respect for nothin'."

"Anyway..." Giacomo turned around and started walking off in the opposite direction. "See you around!"

"Giacomo, wait!" Clive called out. "I would like to give you my number."

"Yeah?" Giacomo stopped in his tracks and peered over his shoulder. "What for?"

"If, per chance, you need anything at all," said Clive, "I would be more than willing to help you. And I know the Director would too, if he knew. I could, perhaps, put in a good word for you."

"... Sure, alright." Giacomo turned around and pulled out his phone. "I dunno what's gonna happen if Team Star does disband. So... I appreciate you havin' my back."

Clive smiled, before taking out his own phone. The two exchanged numbers, and in only a moment, they went their separate ways.

[multicolorlou]

Nails (Game AU self insert)

Summary: Matthew Lillard!William notices your shoddily done nails and offers to pay for you to get them done professionally.

Author's Note: This includes some dirty conversation, some self deprecation (not in a kinky way), and mentions of not having a lot of money

@truecobblepot this was a headcanon I had I wanted to tell you but since you were asleep I just wrote a whole fic ❤️

It was another normal day at work, Kellen tapped away at her keyboard. As manager, it was part of her job to write up the company newsletter for her particular location. It was especially important considering it was the headquarters of Fazbear Entertainment. She was working right under Afton and Emily themselves.

This month she was going over some of the new performance tapes that were going to be distributed and the troubleshooting that may need to happen if issues arose. They didn't very often, but occasionally those two geniuses would miss something small.

As she worked away, the door to her small office opened, and in stepped the boss-man himself… well, one of them.

"Good morning, Mr. Afton."

She said jokingly, they were already beyond a romantic relationship at this point, but the formalities amused them.

"I brought you coffee." He placed it down on the table as he kissed the top of her head.

"Ah, disgusting, black coffee." Kellen joked, smiling up at him, "I'm joking, thank you, Will."

He leaned against her desk, "What were you up to last night? Usually I get a call from you."

She lifted her hand, showing off her freshly painted red nails. "I was doing my nails!" The paint work was somewhat sloppy and there wasn't anything special about them, but she seemed proud enough, so he smiled.

"I thought girls usually went and got them done." He pondered.

"Well, girls with money do, I can't be spending that kind of money, especially with how indecisive I am." She chuckled, "I haven't had my nails done since prom."

He smirked, she seemed so young to be reminiscing like that. "So, what, two years ago?" He teased her, earning a playful flick.

"Hey, now, I'm not that young." She laughed, turning in her swivel chair to face him. "Man I even got my toenails done, usually I'd think that was a waste of money."

He chuckled, seeming deep in thought. "Is that just not your thing or?"

"Oh, no, I love going and doing it…. As you can tell I'm kind of awful at doing it myself… I just… you know…" She seemed to be getting embarrassed that she couldnt afford a luxury most girls had. "Sorry you gotta see these awful things, but it gives me the illusion of classiness." She gestured with her hand, quickly burying her nails in her lap, now self conscious.

"Oh, hon, I didn't mean to make you feel bad, they look great."

"No, no, I know they're not the best, I just figure most people won't look past the color anyways." She feigned a chuckle and started typing again, her mood more melancholy.

William hesitated for a moment, but then spoke up. "Say, what if I paid for you to go get your nails done?"

She blushed a little, looking down at her lap. "You don't need to do that-"

He shrugged, "Just think of it as a bonus, you work so hard after all."

She shook her head, giggling a little, "Don't spoil me!"

"All I ask is you get them done purple, just so you remember who paid for them." He smirked, running a hand through her hair, he gently tilted her head up. Her face went completely red now.

"Ah- yes- sir."

He seemed pretty proud of himself, "Good girl." He let go of her head and rubbed her shoulder a little. "I can't wait to see those nails next time they're wrapped around my-"

"William!" She butted in, stopping him, she was absolutely mortified- not to say she wasn't enjoying the idea.

"Sorry, sorry…" He was definitely not sorry, not by the way he swaggered out of her office, smug and confident with what he had done. "Just stop by and grab my card before you go get them done… and make sure to stop and… show me." He winked, closing the door.

[carpememes]

Oban Star Racers Starters (Part 3)

"I'm not the type of guy who scares easy, you know me."

"I don't even recognize you."

"You're not gonna give me the slip that easily."

"That's not really what I had in mind."

"As if the race wasn't worry enough."

"I didn't ask you here to have tea. We are here to form a temporary alliance against a common enemy."

"I want the ultimate prize and I'm ready to risk everything for it."

"I want the prize as bad as you do."

"You scared me to death. Don't ever do that again, I'm way past my prime, you know."

"The magic word opens many a door, my dear."

"They will hurt you. Badly. This is serious."

"Well, if you're so bored, why don't you just get lost?"

"Leave the prize to those who really need it. We won't miss you."

"We'll discuss your little disappearing act later, miss."

"Imagine. Two great beings standing together. We would be magnificent."

"Just like I told you. He's completely heartless."

"I've imagined this moment for a very long time. I would rush into your arms and you would hug me and all those lost years would be forgiven. But now that it's happened, I don't feel a thing."

"There's so much to explain to you. And so many reasons why you must hate me."

"I was, and I continue to be, a danger for those I love."

"I couldn't have you near me. I couldn't risk harming you as well."

"It was the hardest thing I've ever done, but I did it for you."

"Why didn't you ever call me? Why didn't you ever write? Why didn't you ever visit me? WHY?"

"You think I didn't know? Everyone knew!"

"I was the one who destroyed your mother and our family."

"I saw your face so often in the magazines. I just told myself you were too busy to visit."

"I was so proud of you."

"I waited around like an idiot for the moment you'd suddenly drop from the sky without warning."

"The other children thought I was an orphan and they were right. I had no one!"

"What a joke. To you I was dead! I didn't exist!"

"I have no right to stop you, but I'd like you to reconsider."

"I destroyed my wife. And now I've destroyed my only child."

"It's no use. They can't hear you anymore."

"I want my pillow."

"Darling, what's wrong? You look so tired."

"You're pushing yourself too hard. You need to rest and take care of yourself."

"It's really you. Mother!"

"This is the last chance to win the ultimate prize. Do not let it slip through your fingers."

"We have suffered enough! We must have the truth!"

"So then, it's true. There is no ultimate prize."

"There is a prize. But perhaps not the prize you had hoped for."

"My mother died when I was young and my father just sort of split after that."

"I could never accept being separated from you."

"It is a prince's duty to sacrifice himself for the better good of his kingdom."

"All I wanted was to have a family again. And start to live, finally live!"

"We can go home now. I promise you and I will never be separated again."

"I hope I can live to see that day, but for the moment I have something to finish."

"Everything's gone. The temples, the trees, the animals..."

"We're still here. There's hope."

"It's completely my fault. Mine and no one else's."

"No one put as much of their heart and soul into this race as you did."

"He'll be fine, but he needs a lot of rest."

"Poor kid. He was completely dehydrated. He's very lucky."

"I'm not sure i can do this. I'm too young, too inexperienced."

"You boys take good care of my daughter."

"He's here alright. In the darkness."

"You are my creation. My secret weapon. My most trusted pawn."

"Deep down inside, you know I speak the truth."

"Some days I feel like none of it really happened."

"I guess I was given the ultimate prize after all."

[timeoverload]

Today was nice. Everything went well and everyone was in a good mood. I spent my morning doing sterrad and I haven't done that in a while. I got to leave 30 minutes early so that was cool.

Earlier one of my co-workers asked for my number just so he could have it in case something happened. I gave it to him because I didn't think he was going to make it weird. I don't mind talking to him but obviously I don't like him like that. I have no interest in dating anyone from work. He is definitely not my type and I'm also 5 years older than him. I'm not interested in being with someone younger than me. He has a hard time being serious. I like to joke around but it is constant with him and it's starting to get annoying. He likes to bring up the fact that he has never had a girlfriend and his parents won't let him move out of the house until he is married. I thought he was just venting because we're all pretty open with each other. I guess I didn't realize what he is trying to do until now. I feel stupid. He texted me a little while after I got home so I would have his number. He also sent me a bunch of weird selfies so I don't know what to think about that. I am a little uncomfortable and I hope he doesn't try to text me all the time. I need to distance myself as much as possible because I'm not trying to give him the wrong idea. He also changed his hours so he could come in earlier so I have to be around him longer so that is stressing me out. I'm glad I don't have to see him for a few days.

Anyway, I don't want to think about work anymore. I am happy to be home. I just wish I could get comfortable.

I called the imaging place to see if I could make an appointment to get my x-ray tomorrow so I don't have to wait and luckily they have an opening at 12:30. I am looking forward to having that done and it would be nice if I could get results by the end of the weekend but I might have to wait until Monday. I got my neck brace and it's not as comfortable as I was hoping. I probably shouldn't wear it even though I want to because it could make my muscle weakness worse. I guess I will have to wait and see what the doctor says. I already know they are going to make me do PT and I hate going to PT. I have always had bad posture so I don't know how I am supposed to correct that now. It is painful to stand up straight and I know that's not right. My neck hurts so bad. I think it is worse than my lower back pain now. I hope it's nothing serious but I am starting to think I have bone spurs because my bones feel like they are pointy and sharp. I don't know how else to describe it. I already know I have arthritis and that can cause them. I am too young to be dealing with all this and I'm scared about the future. I don't want to lose my mobility. I have to be more careful about the activities I do now. Unfortunately it is more likely that I could be paralyzed in an accident since my spine is already damaged. I remember taking care of people who were paralyzed and I have had a fear of that since then.

I wish I had the energy to exercise consistently. I think that would help me a lot. I remember I used to go for a run every day after work for a while and I can't do that anymore. I need to try lifting some weights or something. I haven't gotten my yoga mat out in a long time because I don't have room to do that. I would like to go hiking but I am afraid I wouldn't be able to get around like I used to. I just need to get in better shape and build more muscle.

I think my iron is probably low too. I have struggled with an iron deficiency and anemia most of my life. When I was a baby, I had to have an iron supplement with my formula. A few years ago I was taking an iron supplement every other day but I think I stopped because it was hurting my stomach. I was also drinking a lot at the time so I knew it wasn't good to take those with alcohol. I haven't had a drink in a while so that's good. I probably should start taking iron supplements again sometime soon because they might help.

I feel like I am rambling and I need to go relax now. I think I am going to put an ice pack on my neck to see if that helps. I am glad I don't have to get up super early tomorrow. I'm probably not going to be able to stay awake too much longer because I'm tired. I hope tomorrow is a good day.

I hope everyone else has a good day tomorrow too!!! Thanks for listening to me vent about stuff. :) 💖💖💖

[silencedrage]

Okay, so I know this is such a contentious topic about who the Antler Queen is and what the character is supposed to mean, but for me personally, I think the "antler queen" is a representation of all that is going on in the Wilderness. I think it might have been Simone or Courtney in an interview that said the Antler Queen isn't a specific person, but rather a representation of the ideals that they're living by in the wilderness. Obviously we see in the pilot that there's a singular person that wears that crown (and I fully accept that it's often Lottie based on the hints dropped) but I think that within the storytelling of the show, the Antler Queen is a separate character altogether, very much how some religious people envision a god. (not spoiler free under the cut)

So I wanted to take that concept and run with it re: my best goalie Van Palmer so I can parse through the changes that we're seeing on the show and how that plays out in my portrayal. From the start of Lottie's woo-woo shit, Van is right there with her. A lot of it stems from her near-death experience with the wolves and what she saw during that time, but we also know that before this happened, Van is 'jock superstitious'. She might not have full-fledged belief, but can already swayed by Lottie's insistence that she take the bone for protection, and that she was able to predict things in their pre-crash lives. Through the end of the first season and the first half of the second, we see Van wholly embracing what Lottie is putting down. She wears the bone, she prays with Lottie at the end of S1, she goes to her meditation circles. She fully believes that Tai stopped sleepwalking because of Lottie's connection to the wilderness.

Van occupies this really interesting space as someone who is both very pragmatic and practical, and also someone who has an almost childlike view on the world. Smarter people than I have opined about the arrested development of all of the survivors so I won't rehash it here, but I think Van's tends to manifest in her outlook of the world. We know she loves movies, and I fully envision her as the type to get lost in a movie world in order to cope with the pressures of her home life. What that results in is a Van that both understands implicitly that hard decisions are a necessity in life sometimes, but also tries to be optimistic and believe that there are good things in the world, because that's what so many movies do. That there's some kind of reasoning for all the suffering they're going through, and after what happens with the baby, just like everyone else, Van receives a very cruel wake up call. Things don't always work out like they do in the movies. People don't always get happy endings.

In 2x07, she tells Tai that she just thinks they all need to "wake up" and Tai outright says that it doesn't sound like Van. And it doesn't. Up until now, Van's been the joker, who tries to bring a little hope when people are down, who cracks a joke just to give people a smile, but as the episodes wear on, she's not immune to the stress and trauma that they're all going through. Even though Van's been through a lot of shit up until this point, it's a combination of the way Lottie had truly believed that the baby would survive, that would change everything in the wilderness, and how Van had blindly followed in that faith. When that ultimately didn't pan out, Van's now sitting there, like many other religious people have over the years, wondering what the fuck does that mean for all of the rest of it. It's a crisis of faith, and what I find fascinating is that Van doesn't turn away from the Wilderness, but rather leans into it full-steam ahead. Part of this is prompted by Shauna's rage and Lottie's sacrifice, and the final implicit understanding that violence is the only way forward, but it's one thing to have that understanding and another thing to give voice to it.

Liv said in their post-episode interview that Van is the "ringleader" in the moment with the cards. With Lottie out of commission, Van is at the top of the "hierarchy" when it comes to this makeshift religion that they've cobbled together. Even if Van herself doesn't fully believe in what Lottie is saying anymore, she still admits that she "can't imagine" surviving in the wilderness without Lottie. She's not trying to claim that top position for herself, but she's trying to get the others to "wake up", as she said before. What they've been trying to do up until this point, dancing on eggshells around each other, pretending that they're still the same people who got on that plane months ago, and Van is done with it. She was done with it when Tai kept insisting that Van didn't actually believe in Lottie's bullshit in 1x10, and she's done with it now.

There's a shot of Van in this episode at the beginning of the card scene, where the antlers are framing her head, and I think this is the show's way of granting authority to the person it's framing. Before, we've seen it with Lottie and Shauna, even Ben when he was in the midst of his own hallucination (therefore having the greatest authority in that situation). We see it for Van as she holds up the Queen card and begins to shuffle the deck. No one is talking, and everyone is looking at her to continue. Since Lottie can't speak in this moment, Van is the priestess speaking for her.

I wrote somewhere before about how Van, of all the survivors, is the one who can't escape post-rescue. While the others still have their own struggles that they deal with, they don't have a physical reminder of that time as the first thing that people see about them. For Van, having those facial scars means that she can never fully leave the past in the past, no matter how badly she wants to. And I think this moment plays along with how bitter and furious Van got in 2x06, when they were talking about what they remembered of their time in the Wilderness. Van can't forget what happened out there, partially because she has a reminder every time she looks in any sort of reflective surface, and partially because she was the one that set this all in motion.

As much as the narrative and even the others want to blame Lottie for what happened (and to be fair, I'm not saying Lottie is innocent in all regards), Lottie was bedridden in this exact moment, and all she said was, if she dies, don't waste her body. Van was the one who, in realizing that this is the point they've reached, interprets that to mean the Hunt. Van is the one to declare that the "Wilderness chose" its victim in Javi, and even more, no one argues with her interpretation? They all just accept that this is the path that they're taking, one that Van set them on.

To circle back to my original point a million years later, I do think that the "Antler Queen" is more of a symbol rather than a single person. I think it makes sense that Lottie is most often portrayed as that single person because she has the closest proximity to the Wilderness as a concept, but that doesn't mean the title solely belongs to her. In this moment, Lottie can't participate, so the Antler Queen moniker shifts to Van, and everyone in the circle gives her that same respect and reverence. No one questions the rules Van came up with for this moment, and it's a heady level of responsibility that I'm not sure Van is ready for, and I think it haunts her as an adult. It's the one thing that she cannot forget, however much she wants to.

[therubberduckcult]

Headcanons for Joel Robison

Joel has autism and his special interests are making gadgets and robots

Wasn't a very popular kid or teen, so he spent a lot of time with himself (which is probably why he ended up being a bit of a shut in and why he handled being on the SOL pretty decently)

Pretty respectful guy- Will get your pronouns right if you tell him once

If you tell him if something he said might have been rude, he handles it well and will stop the joke and even will look into Why the joke was deemed rude in the first place

He's basically been single his whole life- The idea of a relationship makes him nervous (he's shy!)

Probably didn't know he was bi until he was on the SOL and had a lot of time to think to himself without the pressures of society looking down at him

Overall a very chill guy who would be fun to talk to and hang out with... The type who would say 'oh yea, I was in space and all this happened' and act like it wasn't that big of a deal

Possibly has insomnia? Yeah no, he certainly has it

Due to his shy and quiet nature, he doesn't really think he's all that handsome. If you call him that he would probably go '??? ok?? And how?'

He has an all right relationship with his family, but even still he would never come out to them (just to keep things easy for his sanity and for them)

Being in space didn't make him as nervous as being around crowds of people do

While Crow and Tom were created to be his buddies, he does grow to see them as his kids... Though he wouldn't really go out of his way to HAVE kids at the moment

Doesn't really care all too deeply about what's normal and what's not (because he's not really all that normal, is he?)

If you wanna use the term 'partner' or jokingly call him 'baby girl', he won't really care too deeply (he thinks it's fun)

Despite being a stoic guy, he's very physically affectionate and will hug you, will pat your head, leave his hand on your shoulder, etc

He will remember just little things, something you mention once or show a little bit of interest in and make a mental note of it and save it for later (all the quirks and things you don't like as well! He cares deeply!)

However he has a hard time showing emotion when the affection is returned

So smart, but not in a demeaning way. He's the type of smart that says something obscure or something that most people don't know without thinking too deeply about it... However if you ask him he'll happily explain it to you

Doesn't stim as much as others, but likes collecting things (def the type who kept his toys and has a whole storyline going on with them)

Is downright silly from time to time- Even so that it shocks even Crow and Tom

Before going on the SOL, he knew quite a few gay people (which begs the question... If he was as much as a shut in as he was, he did he know them? HHMMMM??? Has Joel been to gay spaces before and just never confirmed or denied it?)

The 1970's was not his favorite era

And that's all I will do for now! As one may see, I.. Kind of been thinking of these things for a good long while. I have a lot more in mind but I don't wanna go overboard, so as of now! I hope you guys enjoy!

[pixyys]

Please practice them a lot. I don't want to be the victim of your jokes and pickup lines anymore /j

And indeed, now thinking back to it, Lippmann's violin bowing sometimes didn't match the piece. I asked Silver about it, but I didn't expect her to give me such a long list on what Lippmann had done wrong and how he could've fixed it. I'm thinking of making Lippmann actually learn the violin.

Oh, and that reminds me. I was listening to the radio this morning when they played a Chopin piece. The only thing is, they transcribed it from piano to an orchestra. I don't know how to feel about it; it still sounded beautiful, but would this sort of thing be considered 'sacrilegious'? lmao this actually happened this morning

... That joke made me want to sever my head from my body, frankly speaking. You're lucky I considered not to tell Lippmann. But do that anymore and I might actually use piano wires to decapacitate myself.

I had to force Silver to take a break; aka threatening to pull out her piano wires if she didn't stop practising. She didn't seem very happy, but she understood that it was for her benefit. It still didn't stop her from slapping me though.

Oh? You were too distracted by Lippmann's charm that you forgot your own pickup line? No worries. I'll just tell Lippmann that that was your pickup line. He did look kind of red in the face on that night of the movie though. I wonder if it was because of the heat.

But please don't fake your death and fly to Paris. Otherwise, I'm telling Lippmann about all your corny jokes and pickup lines and how sometimes you felt 'hot' around him.

Although I do want you to meet our newest member. His name is Nakahara Chuuya; ever heard of him before?

-🎹

P.S. I asked Silver about it. She seemed a bit surprised, but she said that it was because I had a 'crush'. I'm not that dense to not know what that means. It means that I have formed an attraction to someone, am I right? When I found out the meaning of it, I did become a bit red. Silver looked a bit sad though...

warnings. slight mention/ spoiler of fifteen novel

i won't count on myself if i were you, brother. i'm not done making everyone the victim of my jokes and lines/ lmao j

and oof, sending prayers for lippmann. silver can be ruthless when it comes to music and fine arts/ lmao j..right? making lippmann learn the violin sounds like a superb idea. he and i can have courses together you guys can be novice musician buddies!

for the chopin you heard on the radio, hmm i'm not sure. i don't mind orchestra adaptations, but i also don't have enough insight to comment on that. pray tell, does it really count as sacrilegious? we should ask silver later.

HA! but i see you didn't, in fact, decapitate yourself, brother/ oml i hope im not jinxing anything- please don't be shy to tell me if you want more. i want to start giving the same jokes to lippmann and everyone else, but my gut feeling is telling me not to. hm, weird.

oh dear, a slap? both of you are beginning to remind me to an old couple having a love quarrel. though one can't have true love without some quarrels, i suppose. so you're good. point being, it's relieving to know silver finally got deserved rest.

i-

that's actually a very good idea. maybe i should call you genius man from now on. thank you, i can't owe you more than this. but tell lippmann or a single soul about my predicament, brother, and i might strangle you with those definitely-not-piano-wires-but-other-type-of-wires myself (affectionate). /lmaoo

nakahara chuuya? i'm not sure, but i did overhear some of your men talk about this newsletter saying "chuuya's a sore loser." i wonder if it's the same chuuya. poor guy, maybe some of my jokes can cheer him up, maybe.

p.s. oh no. oh no no no no. as expected of my brother, you're too cunning to be that dense, good. but still, i've read enough romance novels to see where this is going, at least i think so. i'm not a "crush" expert, but i'd say you should take her on a date sometime.

so i tried to look further about chuuya in the fifteen novel, and i snorted lmao dazai is a menace