#id glance over and be like “oh yeah i have to do that huh”

[buwheal]

No asks today but as an apology here's the spam I doodled on my to-do list. Goodnight.

[omgeto]

☆ WHEN YOU HAVE SEX WITH YOUR PROFESSOR — NANAMI, TOJI, GETO, GOJO.

summary: you have sex with your professor. for many different reasons.

wc: 4.2k (each of these were meant to be 500 words long so idk what happened)

cw: smutty smut afab!reader who's in university, mutual masturbation, spanking, semi public sex, toji is not a professor but a gym coach who rails you in a supply closet, but theres a lot of sex on a lot of desks so mdni.

an: theres actually a smidge of plot in this just a tiny bit if you do a deep squint, but the smut id personally say is my best yet. so give it a chance people, but come for the smut stay for the dialogue. hope you enjoy! not proofread ignore mistakes pls

☆ NANAMI

nanami kento, was the strictest teacher you have ever had. you couldn’t get away with your usual tricks that you did with some of your other professors — strutting past their office during office hours in your skimpiest clothes to get a better grade. it was as if nanami was immune to all your devices.

but with a big exam coming up, you knew you had to make something happen since studying was not your forte. so you were prepared to do anything to get that A.

“come in," his deep voice calls from inside.

as you enter his office, you are met with the sight of your professor, his glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, reviewing a stack of papers. he glances up at you briefly before returning his attention to his work.

"what can I help you with?" he ask, his tone professional.

“i wanted to see if we could talk about the exam you set for us tomorrow,” you start to say, his eyes still focused on his papers, not sparing you a glance. “i was thinking we could figure out a way for me to get extra credit… sir.” 

you had his attention now. technically you’ve always had his attention — yes nanami was different to all the other professors you’ve ever had but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t a man at the end of the day. 

he always noticed the way you’d sit in his classroom, your pouty mouth always gnawing at your pencil as you never had a clue what was going on. nanami always had to hide his dick feeling tight in his trousers whenever you walk into his classroom. little did you know that you actually would’ve failed his class a long time ago, but because he just couldn’t let go of the sight of how your pretty tits bounce everytime you raise your hand, he always made you pass. 

“well what are you willing to do for that extra credit?” he says, his tone slightly amused.

“whatever you want” you respond a bit too eagerly, you were coming onto him hard. but it was working, you could already see the crack in his usual stoic facade. “c’mon professor nanami, i need to pass this class,” you practically beg. 

“oh yeah, you definitely need to pass this exam, you’re one more failed exam to flunking my whole class,” he affirms — lying through his teeth. “so i think you should come sit up here, and show me what you’re willing to do huh.”

suddenly, you start to feel nervous. usually you’d have control of the situation, you’d flaunt your ass, fuck your teacher and get an A, easily. but this time, you could see in nanami’s eyes that from when you entered his office — that he was running the show.

you saunter over his desk, and he pushes his seat back allowing you to have room to perch on his desk in front of him. “take off your shirt,” he commands, and you’re quick to fling off your top — that was barely covering anything anyways, “wow no bra, why am i not surprised.” he stares at your hardened nipples smirking as he continues to say, “you know i see your nipples peeking at me through your shit all the time in class.”

“really?” you question coyly.

“you don’t think i see how you practically fuck yourself in your seat when i’m doing a reading,” he continues, his arms folding as if he was telling you off, “a bit disrespectful, right?”

“no i-it’s just i really like the sound of your voice,” you stammer, embarrassed at him calling you out. you couldn’t deny that your professor was hot, everybody thought so and you hated school the only thing that got you through your classes was your day dreams of him fucking you.

“oh really, well i wanna see you get off to it for real this time.”

“wha—”

“touch yourself,” he demands with a grin, “fuck yourself on your fingers, put on a show for me,” he loosens his tie, and unbuttons his cuffs, ready to watch you perform for him, “and if you do well, then we could talk about your extra credit.”

you take off your pants, your hands moving directly to your throbbing pussy — since of course you had no panties on. you press your thumb down on your clit as your fingers work their way into your cunt. you were already soaked, just from hearing your professor speak to you, so it was easy to slide your digits in and out of you. 

nanami’s grin grows wider, loving the way your work your pussy,  “you not gonna play with your tits?” and you take his hint, your other hand sliding up to cup one of your boobs, your fingers pinching and pulling at your nipples. “good girl,” he praises.

you add another finger inside of you, writhing down hard on his desk against your digits. you quicken your pace, rubbing your thumb vigorously against your clit. his gaze on you served as an encouragement, your ultimate goal was shifted, at this point you didn’t care whether he passed or failed you — you just wanted to put on a good show for him.

“you gonna cum for me?” he taunts, the sound of your pussy squelching around your fingers as you drive them in is like music to his ears. you barely even noticed him fisting his dick, stroking it hard — matching the pace of your fingers hammers your cunt.  “you gonna make a big mess for me all over my desk?”

“professor i-” you whine, wanting more than just your own fingers inside of you, “please i need—”

“professor? what was it that you called me earlier?” he teases, “remind me of that and then maybe i’ll give you what you’re begging for.”

“s-sir please,” you sputter, barely being able to string a sentence together. you could feel you were about to cum hard. your fingers were still drilling into your pussy, and your hands were still suctioned on your tit and nanami's dick was taunting you. “i need you.”

“you need me hmm?” he mocks, his eyebrow tilting as he stares at your fucked out face.

“yeah p-please i need your dick,” you beg, your pussy was gushing all over your fingers, as your strokes got sloppier, “i need you i-in me.”

“oh really?” he asks with a smirk, a slight chuckle as you nod eagerly, “well too bad.”

“wha—”

“you really thought i’d put my dick in a slutty student that’s not even smart enough to even pass my class?” he lectures, he tuts his teeth, shaking his head, “now finish off for me and leave office hours end in a few minutes.”

“f-fuck,” you moan out, you could barely even process his words, too busy focused on cumming all over your fingers to think about how he just denied you of what you really wanted, your hand falls off your tit, your head jerking back as your release over his desk. he’s quick to cum too, biting down on his fist to surpress the loud moan threatening to come out

“you really made a mess for me huh,” he observes, swiping his fingers across the pool of cum you left on his desk and bringing it into his mouth, “sweet.” you were at a loss for words, you were just coached through one of the best orgasms you ever had from your professor — and he didn’t even touch you — yet you still don’t know whether he’s gonna pass you or not.

“so about that exam…?” you voice trails, as you put back on your shirt, hopping of his desk.

“i’ll think about it, sit the exam first and i’ll see what i can do,” his voice turns serious, and he nods his head in the direction for you to leave indicating for you to get up out of his office. but just before you're about to leave the room he calls out to you, “oi.”

“thanks for the live show.” 

☆ TOJI 

“why do we always have to fuck in such awkward spaces,” you complain nearly tripping on a basketball as toji holds you upright.

“you know you love it baby,” he smirks, pressing a kiss to your cheek, thrusting up into you further. 

you were in the gym supply closet, having your weekly sex with your university's gym teacher. you don’t even know how your little routine came about but once he started to hammer into you every friday after basketball practice, you’ve never missed a meet up.

“don’t call me that,” you groan out at the use of his pet name.

“why not?” he grumbles, cupping your tits with his hands as he stands behind you, “aren’t you students s’pposed to listen to your teachers and all that.”

you take a sharp inhale as his large hands smother your boobs, his thick things toy with your nipples, “but y-you aren’t a real teacher, in case you forgot.”

“am too,” he mutters like a child.

“a-are not,” you spit back just as childishly.

“am, too,” he persists, thrusting into you hard. pushing you down by your nape, forcing your hands to grip onto some random gym apparatus. he uses his foot to spread your legs apart wider so he can fit right behind you. fucking into you with something to prove.

“you teach gym to a bunch of brain dead j-jocks, wouldn’t say that classifies as being an actual professor toji.” you continue riling him up, biting your lip as his hammers into you harder. “you’re more like a glorified personal trainer than a teacher.”

he drives into you deeper, “oh and your just an uppity bitch, who still ended up fucking this ‘personal teacher,’ in a gym closet,” his mouth moves close to your ear, as he whispers, “so what does that say about you baby?” he presses a kiss underneath your ear lobe, before lightly sucking on it.

his words go straight to your core, him calling you an ‘uppity bitch’ had the exact effect he intended them to have — you throwing  your ass on his dick, fucking him back as hard as he was fucking you. 

he sends a smack to your ass, biting his lip as it ripples at the contact of his palm. his slaps were merciless, having you scream out every time he hits your cheek. “how’s this for a glorified personal trainer huh?” he coos in your ear, feeling dignified as you rut against him more feigning for more of his dick in your throbbing pussy. 

“ah you f-fill me up s-so so good,” you mewl out, as his dick pumps in and out of you stuffing you with every thrust. his mouth latches onto the nape of your neck, sucking on it as he ploughs into you deeper, hitting your spot with pinpoint accuracy.

“i know i do baby, i always stuff you good don’t i?” he groans out, your pussy was a vice grip on his dick, had him suppressing his moans whenever you clenched around him, “don’t know why you fuck around with these lame ass boys in your classes, they can’t fuck you like i do. do they?”

“well…” you voice trails in a teasing tone.

“dont f-fucking play with me,” he sputters, feeling himself about to bust all inside of you, “i’m the only one you fucking right,” when he doesn’t hear an immediate answer, he shoves himself into you his hips pushing right against your ass, “right?”

“y-yes fuck, right,” you sigh rolling your eyes at his act of possessiveness — ignoring how you pussy got even wetter at his words. “you’re the b-best i ever had, toji.”

“you’re damn right i am,” he scoffs out giving your ass one final slap as he says, “you going finish all over my dick, c’mon baby coat my dick with your sweet sweet,” and you do just that. you cum with a cry, releasing all over toji, as he shoots into you a loud groan leaving his mouth.

“aww i forgot how loud you get for me,” you tease him as he pulls out of you, turning to look at him with a grin, which he huffs out, “anyways what did i tell you about cumming in me, i'm not one of those cheerleaders you run around with,” you fuss swatting at his chest.

“yeah you aren’t one of the cheerleaders i run around with,” he repeats, “hence why i can cum in you, you know you’re my favourite fuck out of all my students”

“ugh you’re so gross.”

“you say that with my cum running down your legs,” he says, giving you a pointed look, his eyes staring down at your thighs, “i do have another hour till my next class i gotta teach, so i could clean it up for you?” he offers, already going down to his knees, knowing that was a suggestion you would not deny.

“if you insist.”

he starts to suck against your thighs as you lean against the wall, sandwiched between a goal post and a hockey stick, but just before his lips latch onto your pussy, he looks up to you with a pout, “do you really think gym coaches aren’t teachers?”

“oh shut up toji,” you mutter, pushing his head to your cunt.

☆ GETO

you storm into your professors office, pissed off. professor geto was the worst teacher you’ve ever had. he was cocky, arrogant and most of the time he didn’t have a clue what he was teaching. 

“ah miss know it all,” he muses, his personal nickname he created for you during his first semester of being your professor, “to what do i owe the pleasure this time.” you were no stranger to geto’s office, you were practically the only student that actually used his office hours. geto didn’t mind it though. the unplanned visits, your impoliteness — he was amused by it. 

“could you explain why you gave me a B, on my last paper?” you interrogate, waving said essay in his face furiously, “when we both know that this is easily worth an A.”

“i just think you could do better,” he shrugs nonchalantly, “i just think you haven’t harnessed your true potential, that’s all.” geto knew you were smart, the smartest person he’s ever taught. he just needed to get you in his office. and he knew a below average grade on an essay, that didn’t even matter, was the way to do that.

“and what do you know about potential?” you mutter, more to yourself than anything, “i don’t even know how you managed to get this job.”

he rolls his eyes at your comments, “do you really want this A?” 

"of course i want the stupid A," you reply, your tone determined. "i've put in the effort, and i've met all the requirements for this paper. there's no reason for you to give me a B except for your own personal bias against me."

“personal bias? some may argue that you’re actually my favourite?” geto leans back in his chair, a sly grin on his face. "but alright, then. here's the deal," he says, folding his arms. "if you can convince me right now, in this very moment, that you deserve an A for this paper, i'll change your grade. but you'll have to persuade me.”

“persuade you?” you retort, “what you want me to do a powerpoint presentation or something…?” 

he chuckles, shaking his head at your naivety, for someone so smart you somehow lack social awareness, “no i wanna see if you taste as good as you look.”

“you mean…” your voice trails, finally catching on to what he was getting at.

“come lay down on my desk,” he says casually as if this was a usual ordeal between the two of you. he could see you hesitating, “you do want that A right?” 

your feet were stuck in the ground, you never wanted to be one of those girls — ones that had to fuck a teacher just to get through university. but, regardless of your below A grade, you were more curious about what it would actually be like. especially with a professor that looked like geto. 

you lay down on his desk, nervous, you could feel his breath on your stomach as he slides down your jeans. he was kneeling down, his face at the same level as your pussy. he toys with your underwear, pulling at it and snapping it against your skin, giving you a smile of approval in your choice of panties. but just before he pulls them off you he asks, “you sure you want to do it smarty? you can run back to your dorm if you want?”

“anything to get the A,” you grit out, basically lying, since getting your grade improved was the last thing on your mind as he pulls off your underwear. 

he takes his hair — that was usually tied up in bun —  down, releasing his long hair, “just in case you need something to pull on,” he smirks.

his fingers slide across your wet slit, spreading your lips. he presses a kiss on your clit, slightly nibbling on it before working his mouth down to your pussy. you gasp at the contact as he latches his mouth on you, his tongue darting into your cunt at a quick pace. 

geto hums in satisfaction as you hands immediately go to grab his hair, pulling at it as his tongue gives you long strokes, lapping up all the juices already spilling out of you. “i didn’t think my star student would be this needy, if only the class could see you now.” he taunts lifting his head up, “i guess they wouldn’t be surprised though, your as hungry for my tongue as you are to answer questions in class,” he finishes with a chuckle pressing a kiss to your thigh.

but you’re quick to silence him, clenching your thighs against his head, “s-shut up,” you whine, thrusting your hips up in his face to meet his tongue. your head was swirling, you could barely remember how you ended up on your professors desk in the first place. but all you were focused on was clawing your fingers through his scalp as he slurps and sucks on your pussy.

“oh m-my god,” you murmur, soaking his face. he could tell by the way you pushing his face deeper into your cunt, his nose forced into your arousal that you were close.

“ready to let me taste you” he asks, his voice sending vibrations over your pussy, “wanna taste you so fucking bad.”

“fuck d-didn’t think it’ll be this g-good,” you whine out. he brings his thumb to you clit rubbing it as fast as he could taking you over the edge. you moan out, practically squealing, as you squirt all over his face. he smirks, trying to get as much as it as he can.

“i didn’t know my star student could squirt,” he teases, his mouth glistening with evidence of you, “or should i call you my star squirter.”

“haha, very funny…” you deadpan, becoming slightly shy at seeing him lick his lips wiping the last remains of you off of him.

“i guess my theory was right,” he concludes.

“what theory?” you ask, puzzled, forgetting the whole reason you let him eat you out in the first place.

“you do taste as good as you look,” he comments with a pleased grin, already reminiscing about you squirting all over his face.

“so about my A?” you ask pulling up your jeans, and collecting your things.

“yeah i’ll expect your rewrite on my desk by friday,” he shrugs, going back to his nonchalant persona.

“rewrite? did you not promise me an A if i can ‘persuade you,’ at how badly i want it?” you question, going back to your original state of being pissed off, “did i not persuade you mr ‘you do taste as good as you look.’ this is so unfair”

“ask me if i care about fairness?” he smirks, a laugh leaving his lips as he watches you storm out of his office, “hey! you left your underwear,” he calls out behind you, his laugh growing as you say nothing, putting up your middle finger at him and slamming his door shut.

☆ GOJO

“do you want to lose your job?” you chastise, “shut the fuck up.”

“but i can’t help it,” he purrs, nuzzling into your neck to suppress his non stop moans and whines that he was doing as he pushed his dick in you, “your pussy’s just too good.”

you were leaning against the desk of your professor gojo’s lecture hall, your legs wrapped around his bag as he hoisted you up, grinding his body against yours as his dick drives in your pussy. 

it was after hours, and gojo forgot to lock his classroom doors. as soon as your peers left the room he was quick to put his lips on yours, throwing all the stationary on his desk on the floor in the most dramatic fashion ever. 

you don’t know how you got entangled in a relationship with your teacher. since you didn’t actually benefit from it, and he was needier and clingier than an actual student your age. but the mind blowing orgasms he gave you every now and again made you forget all of his ‘bad qualities.’

“c’mon don’t tell me it’s not making you feel wetter,” he murmurs in between kisses, “the idea of someone walking in on me fucking your pretty little pussy.” you ignore him, your arms tightening around his neck as you bounce on his dick. “tell me that doesn’t make you hot,” he eases his dick out of you slightly, drawing both of your attention to his member already covered in your juices. his eyebrows raise when you look back at him as if he’s just proved his point.

“whatever, i guess the idea of us getting caught isn’t that bad,” you lie, knowing it was causing you to get better, “but if we do get caught then it's your ass gojo.”

“aww you’re so thoughtful,” he coos, “you really care about me and my job, will you miss me if i get fired?”

“well i’ll miss my on campus dick,” you mutter, scratching at his back, as he thrusts into you deeper, “but i’ll be able to replace you quickly i guess.”

“oh how you wound me,” he mocks, pulling you into a deep kiss, desperate to taste you. that was gojo’s favourite thing to do to you, of course your pussy was great, but your lips were his favourite thing. sometimes he’d even drag you out of the hallway into his office —not a care in the world if anyone was around— and pull you into his lap just shove his tongue into your mouth and fondle your tits.

for a lousy professor, gojo sure knew your body well. he knew every spot to hit, every place to kiss, every stroke to make and you loved it. the scratches you were giving him on his back, encouraging him to go deeper, stuffing you to the brim. “f-fuckk you take me so so well,” he moans in your ear, whining and grunting as you tighten your hold around him. 

“i’m close,” he mutters, his pace slowing. he lowers you down so your back is laying on the desk and he swoops his mouth down to your tits. enveloping your left breast with his mouth, greedily suckling at it. 

“wow already?” you taunt, “you’ve really lost your touch professor, when i was an undergrad we could go at it for days.” his mouth pauses, as he looks up at you with a pointed look that reads as ‘girl really? as if you aren’t close.’ he wasn’t wrong, from his deep long strokes in your pussy, and his tongue twisting on your nipples, you were ready to cum all over him.

“gojo shit,” you curse, your hand coming down to your clit, flicking at it fast to speed up your orgasm. but gojo slaps your hand away, almost offended that you would try to cum off of something other than his hands and mouth. he bites down on your nipple, punishingly and that sends you overboard. you let out a shriek as you cum all over his dick, your hand quickly coming over your mouth to suppress your whines.

“what happened to being quiet huh?” he mocks your warning from earlier, “don’t want to get caught, do we now?” but he’s quick to let out a deep moan, as he releases into you, spraying your walls with all your cum. he slumps over you, exhausted, and wanting to just feel you — gojo was always needy after sex.

after you both come down from your highs and clean up — thankful that nobody stumbled across you. gojo pulls you into his lap, dabbing kisses all over your neck, “so when you gonna let me take you out, outside the classroom?”

“y’know that’s not allowed right?” you remind him, looking at your professor as if he’s lost his mind, “what we’re doing now isn’t allowed, but out in public is a no go, gojo.”

“not allowed?” he retorts, as if it’s news to him, “i thought it was just heavily frowned upon?!”

an: sooo what did you think? which one was your favourite. me personal lame gym coach toji really did it for me. tagging my girl @jabamin mainly just for nanami. but yes ALSO IDK WHY I MADE THE READER DUMB IN THE NANAMI FIC, but I juxtaposed it by making you super smart in the geto fic so it balances it out. anyways lmk what you thought, thanks for reading!! DONT USE MY DIVIDERS

[iiwaijime]

02. the much awaited cat adoption episode

"y/n, you look weird," osamu tells you as you step into his apartment. "what are you hiding?"

"nothing!" you reply a little too quickly.

"meow," says your jacket. "meow."

"what the fuck." atsumu props himself up onto his elbows, peering up at you from where he's sprawled out on kuroo's couch, suna fast asleep beside him. "is that a cat?"

you nod sheepishly, unzipping your jacket to reveal a black cat, not fully grown, but not a kitten either. "he was outside, all alone. i'll take him home."

atsumu grabs it from you immediately, cooing and making stupid kissy faces at it. "what's its name?"

"his name hasn't been decided yet," you say, plopping down in atsumu's recently vacated seat. "mm, it's still warm here, thanks, tsumu."

atsumu scowls. "you're welcome, you little fu—"

osamu gives him a Look from where he's setting the table for dinner, and he twists his face into an uugly smile. "you little sister of mine, who i love very much."

osamu snickers, and you take the chance to discreetly sneak a glance at suna, who looks like he's melted into the cushions, still passed out. he looks pretty like this, all relaxed without the usual stupid deadpan look on his face. but you must have stared for a moment too long, because when you look away, the younger twin flashes you a knowing smile.

atsumu doesn't notice the silent exchange as he lifts the cat up into the air. "what should we name him?"

osamu examines the cat over his twin's shoulder before he sits down beside you, lightly squeezing you into his side. "dunno, but i like his eyes. hi, baby sister."

"hi, 'samu. you're just a year older than me," you say with a roll of your eyes. but you still can't hold back the fond smile that crosses your face.

"oh!" atsumu yelps, almost dropping the cat. "his eyes!"

"what about them?" you ask, confused.

"they're that weird shade of green, like sunarin! we should name him..." he pauses for dramatic effect. "we should name him sunarin junior!"

osamu groans, but he doesn't disagree, and as for you— "sure!"

"sunarin, wake up!" yells your brother, poking him harshly with a toe.

"whahuh?" he jerks awake, opening one eye groggily — atsumu is right, their eyes are eerily similar — before abruptly kicking atsumu, hard. "atsumu, what the fuck?"

"look, sunarin junior."

"huh?"

"we named him after you!"

"oh!" suna sits up. it's like he's fallen in love with the tiny creature, eyes widening as he zeroes in on it. "holy shit, he's my son now."

"what?" you ask.

"he's my son, give him to me."

"since when is he your son?"

"he has my name, so i get to have some parental rights, right?"

"well yeah, that's valid, but he's my son, not yours! i was the one who rescued him," you argue. the cat meows halfheartedly in your brother's arms.

"he's our son, how about that?" he says it carelessly, but a dizzying rush of... something rushes through you, and butterflies rise up in your stomach. you ignore the sidelong glance osamu throws your way, and cross your arms. "what the heck?

"give him to me," he repeats.

"pay child support first, at least," you say with a snicker, although it dies down pretty fast when to your surprise, rintarou suna digs through the pocket of his shorts before chucking a handful of candy at your face.

"there, now give him to me."

series masterlist

authors note(s) !!

smau is sav's now like i love her sm [does it show that im not close to a lot of ppl on here. tbh im such a loser (/pos) that id be the same even if i had like a ton of close friends i think]

anyways, they adopt meowmeow <3

mom and dad ahuygiadhsuijk screams loudly.

i loved writing the sibling dynamics like. yeah.

me n my siblings arent the closest?? but like my brother and i stay up yapping ab jjk and my little sister and i do art shit together and my older sister crochets me cute shit and shows her affection by touching her leg with mine when we sleep at night or putting our pillows closer together and like sahsgajksdhjdsa i love my siblings basically

stress solving rubiks cubes then im suddenly being competitive f2l cfop kys

if u want fun in ur life follow @/urbluestbaby for funnies (this is a joke, thats my alt)

kenma is me i am him

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[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for qwertynerd97 behind the cut; Billy adopts Conner and it actually goes pretty good! (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“Yeah,” Billy says after a moment. “I’m not gonna make you do stuff like that. Um, well, like some normal chores and following your curfew and taking your phone with you when you go out, I mean, but not like–um. Yeah.” 

Lynn doesn’t say anything. He just keeps looking into the living room. Billy looks too, but doesn’t see what he’s looking at. His line of sight’s too high to be looking at Tawky, and the TV’s off, and–

Oh. Actually . . . 

Is he looking at the windows, actually? 

Huh, Billy thinks again. 

Lynn stops looking at the windows, or maybe just the living room, and then goes and opens the oven and stares blankly into it for a moment. Then he reaches in bare-handed and–

“Oven mitt!” Billy says quickly, zipping over to him and grabbing a pair of them off the hook they’re hanging on on the way. Lynn stares at him just as blankly as he was staring into the oven, and also just as blankly as he’s been staring at him, and probably he’s thinking Billy is stupid because he’s, like, invulnerable and all, but the thing is–“Secret identity,” he clarifies, and holds the mitts out to Lynn. “You gotta be careful about doing stuff baseline humans can’t, even if you think you’re alone or only around people in the know. And like, you have to make it a habit to do stuff baseline humans would have to anyway, or you might forget to when you aren’t alone. Also Batman didn’t install the new windows yet so I’m not sure if these are privacy ones, honestly, so somebody could maybe see from across the street anyway?” 

Lynn stares at him for another moment, then flicks his eyes down to the oven mitts. Billy feels awkward and kind of like a worrywart, but it is important. He definitely doesn’t turn into Captain Marvel when anybody else even might be watching, and also if Lynn’s keeping those habits from the start it’ll be easier for him in the long run, right? Or at least, Billy thinks it’ll be easier? Like–probably? 

He fidgets a little and tries not to look nervous. Lynn glances at his face for a moment even though his own expression doesn’t change at all, then takes the oven mitts and . . . well, he uses them more like potholders than actually, like, putting them on, but still counts, Billy figures. Lynn takes out all the pans and puts them all on top of the stove, and then closes it and sets aside the oven mitts and turns it off. 

“. . . thanks,” Lynn says more in the oven’s direction than Billy’s. Billy feels a little relieved, because “don’t do stuff baseline humans can’t when it’s not safe to” is a pretty important thing, so far as secret IDs and all go. 

“Sure!” Billy says, then peeks curiously at the food. “So, um . . . is it done?” 

“. . . it has to rest for five minutes,” Lynn says, and then turns away abruptly and walks into the living room to bring back the plates, which is, um, probably something Billy should’ve remembered was gonna need to happen before he took them out there, come to think. 

Whoops. 

Well, he guesses they could use serving dishes, probably, because Batman bought them way too much everything and there are so, so many serving dishes, but that’s more dishes to wash so yeah, Lynn’s definitely taking the right approach here, Billy decides. 

Though he has no idea why dinner has to rest. Like–what does that even mean, “rest”? It’s food. 

“. . . why?” Lynn asks, and holds up Tawky’s little plate with a faint frown. 

“Oh, Tawky doesn’t need as much to eat as you do,” Billy clarifies. Tawky only needs a lot to eat when he’s being a full-sized tiger, and he’s being an stuffed animal the same way Billy’s being a dad right now instead of just Captain Marvel, so he won’t have the stomach space for big meals until, like, the next time they have to save the world, probably. Or a mission. Or something like that, anyway. “Or as much to eat as you probably do, since we’re still figuring that out. But probably not, either way. Like–I don’t need to eat either, I mean, but like, different-sized stomachs and all, sooo . . . bigger plate, I guess. Sorry, is that rude, do you think? I wasn’t trying to be.” 

“. . . uh,” Lynn says slowly, frowning at Tawky’s plate instead. “Okay.” 

Well, it’s not exactly an answer, but Billy guesses he can double-check with Tawky later. It’s kind of more important what Tawky thinks anyway, since it’s him he’d be being rude to, and also he really shouldn’t be expecting Lynn to really get, like, manners and intent versus affect and that kind of thing yet anyway. Although either way having a full-sized tiger in the apartment would definitely not be great for the secret identity thing, even just for mealtimes, so they’d have to figure something out there. 

Well, he guesses they could just go to the Rock of Eternity for dinner, actually? Like, cook in the apartment but pack themselves dinner-picnics or something. Actually, that sounds kinda fun, he’d like to show Lynn what it’s like and maybe explain a little more about what accepting a share of his powers would mean, if he did, and– 

Focus. He definitely needs to work on his focus. That’s way more important when he’s being a dad. He doesn’t want Lynn to ever think he’s ignoring him, for one. 

“I’ll ask him later,” Billy says. Tawky’s probably still reading anyway; he was while Billy was setting the coffee table. He had the biography of Nikola Tesla they’d picked out, which is pretty normal reading fare for Tawky, really. He likes nonfiction a lot, especially the historical stuff. Billy doesn’t really get it, personally.

[biscuitblinkeu]

Kiss and Make-up [8]

Park Chaeyoung x Fem!reader

Word Count: 2940

…………………………………………………………………………

You’re in a club, drinking alone. This was a different place than the one you went to with the girls. You heard about it courtesy of your bartender friend you exchanged numbers with before. It wasn’t as big as the hotel one, but still filled with people. You could hear the music, feel the bass reverberating in your bones. Your hand fidgets in your lap while you sip on your drink, watching the way people danced, jumping and laughing.

It was an impulse decision of yours, coming here. It was a Monday night and you needed to blow off some steam, get your mind off things. Get your mind off a certain blonde. The alcohol helped with this. Helped a little — because as much as you were trying to forget about Rosé, every time you closed your eyes you saw her; reminded of what she said. Daggers to the heart.

“Did the drink insult you or something?” A sudden silvery voice makes you jump out of your skin, a chuckle following after.

“I’m so sorry about that,” you turn to the culprit, who has taken the seat next to you. “I’m Irene.” Well, this Irene woman was beautiful. She has refined and soft features— like a work of art with a lot of detail.

“It’s okay,” you reassure with a laugh, shaking your head, “(Y/n).” You offer your hand to shake hers. She accepts easily, warmly smiling and giving your hand a soft squeeze.

Oh?

Her smile sends warmth through your body and you lower your gaze shyly. “You were glaring at your drink, what’s on your mind? If you don’t mind me asking.” Irene asks softly, leaning over to you slightly, resting her chin in her hand.

“Was I?” You muse, turning to her fully. You contemplate if you should tell her, and she picks up on this. “I’m just a stranger you met in a bar, so you don’t have to tell me. Just try talking to someone about it sometime. You’re too pretty to be thinking that hard.”

“You sound like a therapist.” You tease, making her scoff playfully, her lips pull into a smile.

“I would be a terrible therapist, I’d want to know all the details and it wouldn’t even be a therapy session anymore. More like gossip between friends.”

You giggle at her words, “You’ve already thought about it, huh?”

Irene shrugs nonchalantly, “Well yeah, I’m nosy.” She smiles cheekily at you. “But seriously, it's not good to bottle up things.”

You hum, finishing off your drink— your liquid courage. “Okay, I won’t. Let’s dance?”

…

You and Irene had returned to the bar after spending an hour dancing together on the dance floor when you felt your phone vibrating against your thigh.You curse quietly, answering it without glancing at the caller ID. A familiar voice comes through the speaker, “(Y/n)?”

“Jennie?”

“Yeah it’s me, you’re somewhere safe right? Weird question but it’s hard to hear you because of the background music.”

“Yes I am, just…”

“Don’t, I have an idea what you’re doing,” Jennie laughs, then nervously she gets out, “so, Rosie…she—”

“I really don’t wanna hear about her right now, Jennie. I’m sorry.”

Jennie looks at Lisa who sits across from her for some help, her wife just shrugs. They all got word of you and Rosé’s situation when they met up in her office. She was acting off so they forced it out of her. Made her realize things.

“Alright, for what it’s worth, Rosie can be an idiot sometimes— but enough of that, I hope you have fun tonight, don’t get in strangers' cars!” Jennie whispers her next words, like she’s telling you something top secret. “And, for the sake of our ship, kiss and makeup for me. Okay bye!”

“Of course, and thank you?”

Kiss and makeup?

You go back to chatting with Irene after you hang up. You can’t help but wonder what Jennie was trying to tell you though.

Twenty minutes later, she gets out of her car, decked in Saint Laurent; a wool blend jacket, silk shirt that’s unbuttoned and tucked into high waist leather shorts, and over-the-knee ivory leather boots. She advances to the entrance and walks in.

She’ll have to thank Jisoo and Jennie; the only ones you follow on social media who have access to your location. They make everyone share their location with them in case of emergencies. It’s no surprise you’d ignore her calls after what she said. So when she tortured the info out of Jennie, she had to see you.

It doesn’t take her long to find you, smiling and laughing with a dark-haired woman. It was like that moment in movies, like the people in the room were positioned in a way she could only see you.

Rosé was on a mission. She wanted you away from that woman. She wanted you away from this club & bar, where anyone wouldn’t hesitate to take a chance on you, as proved by the woman next to you. She wanted that woman to see that you were hers and nobody else’s, to realize you’re taken by her. And if not now, soon.

Rosé strides across the floor to the two of you, the sound of her boots attracting your attention just as she makes it there. The look on your face is pure confusion and hurt when you meet her eyes. Something Irene picks up on. “Rosé? What…what are you doing here?”

“It’s not important. But I have to talk to you about earlier.”

Rosé watches the way your eyebrows knit together and your lips pull into a frown, fury returning in your eyes and she feels her nerves starting to grow. She’d let you yell at her as long as you want, as long as the outcome is you letting her plead her case.

The woman you were talking to places a hand on your knee and you scoot a little closer to her, attention turning back to the woman— Look at me, she thinks— and opting to ignore Rosé. She doesn’t like this, and she has a feeling you know it too.

“Who’s this?” Rosé asks casually, moving to your side. The jealousy on her face is poorly masked but she stays civil. (For now.)

Irene was about to answer for you when you spoke up first. “None of your business.” You quip and Rosé narrows her eyes in suspicion. Narrows her eyes at the hands snaked around your waist. Her fingers drum against the countertop and she purses her lips, not quite knowing how to defuse the bomb that is you. The expression on your face makes it clear you don’t want to talk to her. Understandable.

“I know you’re upset, but can we please just talk it out?” She pleads.

“There’s nothing to talk about right now.”

“Yes there is. I need to apologize, I shouldn’t have said what I said. I need you to know none of it was true-”

“Then why did you say it?”

Rosé begins to respond, and you shake your head. “Actually, don’t explain.” You didn’t want to find out it was an ego or pride thing of hers. That would hurt more. “Please just leave me alone, why don’t you find someone nice to talk with?”

Someone that’s not you. Surely she gets that you need some time?

“(Y/n), I can’t do that. I want to talk with you. I was so wrong and—” She’s cut off by a hand being placed on her chest, firmly pushing hers back a couple steps. Irene stands in front of you, a little to the side. She’s been watching the whole argument unfold.

Rosé is in shock, it’s written all over her face. But she’s also about to explode. It’s building up, the rage, the regret, the mess of her feelings and this situation, and she thinks she might just—

“Why don’t you back off? She’s been telling you to leave her alone.” The short woman speaks up, and she’s met with Rosé’s glare. Irene holds her ground.

“Who the fuck are you?” Rosé almost sneers. She stands tall, stepping closer to the woman with no shame in the slightest. “I don’t know who you think you are, but—”

“Rosé!” You hiss, ripping her attention away from the woman. You were sparing Irene from the words that would come out her mouth. “You need to go cool off, away from me.”

“But…” She begins, only to be met with your glare and she retreats without another word, giving you her signature curt nod before disappearing in the sea of bodies. Rosé takes a seat at one of the tables across the room, you're still in sight though.

She was determined to apologize to you. To make things right.

Despite the lingering looks she’s getting, no one dares to approach her with the sour look on her face. And if they did, she’d tell them to get lost.

But apparently someone didn’t get the memo. A body blocks her vision.

“Hi, my name is…” Rosé didn’t care, “I find you extremely attractive and couldn’t help coming over here and…”

Get lost. All it takes is one look.

The woman trails off, her voice getting smaller until she excuses herself. When she gets rid of her you’re gone, you and that woman. Frantically, she looks around and is eventually able to spot the two of you heading out the building. She practically sprints to you, standing in front of the two of you.

“What are you doing? Where are you going?” If a kicked puppy could talk, this would be the example. Worry and jealousy were evident in her tone.

You rolled your eyes, “Clearly, I’m going home with her.” The confidence in your voice makes Rosé think you’re out to get on her nerves. If you are, it’s working.

“Don’t, please. Let me take you home.” Her eyes dropped to your hand, intertwined with the other woman’s unrelentingly. She narrows her eyes at them.

“Rosé—”

You’re immediately cut off by her soft lips being pushed against your own. You feel a hand slither around your waist, pulling you closer to her and away from Irene. As she continues to kiss you, her hand slides down your arm and rips Irene’s hand out of your grasp, replacing it with her’s.

You don’t know why you kissed back, why you responded back just as eager despite how she hurt you— yet that didn’t stop your heart from beating out your chest. Irene fled the scene, feeling out of place. But you did catch her smirk and give you a thumbs up. Then you thought about how she reminded you of Jennie.

Kiss and makeup..

You didn’t know anything, didn’t really have control until you were at the parking lot of the building where her high rise apartment was.

“Don’t move.” You heard. You sat there confused but complied. Rosé hopped out the car and jogged to your side, opening the door for you. You shook your head in disbelief, amusement, and let her take your hand.

…

“Uhm…you can use my shower, I’ll get you something from my closet, if that’s okay?”

“That’s fine…”

She gave you a clean towel and wash rag, and when you turned the fancy looking shower on you came back out to ask Rosé if you could use her toiletries but she was already gone.

So you just helped yourself. She won’t mind.

When you're out, an oversized hoodie and some black sweats are laid out for you along with some (new and clean) undergarments. The sweats pool at your ankles and the hoodie sleeves are slightly longer than your arm span. The clothes smell like her, and like a weirdo, you find yourself smelling them.

You fold your previous clothes up and put them in the hamper she has in the bathroom before grabbing your towels and walking out. Freezing upon Rosé crouched on the ground interacting with a dog. You wondered why the dog wasn’t here before and if it was her’s.

“Hankie,” she cooed, in the high-pitched voice people use only to talk to animals or babies. She scratches him behind the ear. “Good boy.” She grabs a dog brush and brushes his shiny fur. Rosé looked up to meet the dog’s eyes but found him looking behind her.

Confused, Rosé looked back and found her answer. You were fresh out of the shower, a towel folded over your arms as you leaned against the wall with an indescribable look. Rosé sat up, holding Hank in her arms before addressing you. “Why do you look like I’ve grown another head?”

“It’s nothing, just weird seeing you so domestic…I mean, soft. It’s adorable, I didn’t think you were a pet person.”

“Really? Well, you're going to learn a lot of things about me.” Rosé studies you with a soft look, making you fidget and pull at your(her) hoodie sleeves. You weren’t used to this side of her.

Rosé smiled, “I love you in my clothes, but I’d also love if you’d follow me to the kitchen. I’m going to make us chicken stir fry.”

Your neck heats up and a grin threatens to appear on your face. Rosé and you go into the kitchen and she pulls ingredients out of her fridge. She doesn’t mind it when you hop on the counter to watch her cook, your legs dangling and swinging. She doesn’t know it’s so you could stare at her side profile more.

“When did you get a dog?” You ask, staring at the brown and white dog in his dog bed. Occasionally he’ll run over to you and you’ll hop off the counter to pet him.

“I’ve had Hank for two years and I found him when I clicked on an adoption advocate where a nice lady was posting about dogs that need to be adopted, and then I saw hank. Hank was abandoned by his previous owner and he had severe conditions… When I brought him home he was scared and jumpy, but he’s got used to me now. I just fell in love with him and he’s so adorable.” She finished as she smiled at the dog who sat by your feet.

“That's so sweet of you, Rosé. He’s lucky to have met you.” You lean forward, resting your head on your forearms as you watch her work. A comfortable silence lulls in the air, you content just watching her focus on not burning things.

She deserves a second chance…

You’re immediately cut off by her soft lips being pushed against your own and you feel a hand slither around your waist, pulling you closer to her and away from Irene. As she continues to kiss you, her hand slides down your arm and she rips Irene’s hand out of your grasp, replacing it with her’s.

Her hand was warm, her lips even warmer— but then she pulled away, looking you in the eyes. You could feel the nerves radiating off her.

So, breathlessly, she pleads once more. “Please, and I know it’s cliche, but hear me out. I’m not asking you to forgive me because what I said was terrible, but—”

“Okay. Okay…fine.” You agree, finally. Rosé squeezes your hand before leading you out of that noisy bar & club.

Now in her Mercedes, Rosé fidgets around thinking of how to start her apology. She knows starting off with “I’m sorry” is not gonna cut it.

“I was scared.” She begins before pausing. You go to ask her “of what” but she starts talking again. “I was scared that if we started a relationship I would fuck everything up— which I already have in a way— but I was scared of causing you problems, pain, I was trying to protect your heart,” she sighs, “It’s just, most of my life I’ve been told I’m hard to love and it kind of just stuck to me like a bad omen. And I want you to know I said all those things so you would keep your distance.”

You’re stuck, appalled; you don’t know how to respond other than a stuttered “Oh” and a nod. It seems to be enough for Rosé though. “I want you to know it wasn’t a mistake, and it meant so much to me. I’ll do anything I can to make up for it if you’ll let me. I’m sorry.”

She definitely has a way with her words.

And the way she looked at you when she finished? — like heaven on earth.

You might as well be six feet under.

How are you not supposed to fall for her? And right now, in the middle of the night, surrounded by the vibrant buzz of energy from the city, everything her, you can't help but look at her lips that she bites in concentration.

You were biting those just a few days ago yourself.

You know what she tastes like. And you really, really want strawberries right now. Her lips are so soft, so plump, and the way she kissed you? You think you might be ruined for anyone else.

Kiss me again, you think.

Rosé’s brows pull together and she stops chopping the vegetables. "(Y/n), I think you might still have some alcohol in your system."

"What?" You’re on the verge of getting mad because you know you're sober.

"You just said… I might not be hearing right.” She shook her head, dismissing it.

"What did I say?" You pry, curious yourself. Rosé glances at you, heat blooming on her cheeks.

“You said…kiss me again.”

A/n: KISS AND MAKEUPPP KISS KISS AND MAKEUP 💃🏾

Would you like to continue?

[spookyson]

Ummm literally just made an account and have no idea how this works. Then found this wip in my docs. I have no idea where I was going with it but it will now see the light of day. Omg I didn't even proofread it pls ignore my typos.

Tim woke up in a bed that was not his own.

Not unusual. He sometimes slept in his parents’ bedroom. It smelt like them and would sometimes feel like being with them. But this wasn’t any bedroom that Tim knew.

It was bigger than his room, with navy walls and dark curtains that covered a window larger than the one he was used to. It was also empty, with a few necessities furnishing the sparseness. Tim’s bedroom had never known emptiness after Mrs Mac had given up on it when Tim was 9. 

There were some clothes on the ground. Which was something. He sat up, pucshing off teh soft blanket that gathered at his waits. His bare feet hit the carpeted floor as he continued his research. The clothes on the ground were too big for him. A collared white shirt and charcoal slacks. He found a tie of matching colour under his bed. It reminded him of Dad, this was the sort of thing he wore when he went to the office. 

He looked to the closet and found nothing else. More shirts and ties in different shades, a pair of dress shoes, and a plain yellow hoodie. He didn’t know these clothes. Tim glanced down at his current outfit, a loose black shirt with Superman’s symbol on it and a pair of sweatpants he’d folded three times at the hip for them to stay on. The shirt was something he would wear, so maybe…

Batman had protocols for time travel. Nothing that he had ever explicitly told Tim since he was way too busy devising ways to make Tim quit, but files that Tim had read over when he had a minute to spare, The rules were fairly simple, should he go back in time, he was not allowed to inform anyone he knew of the future nor could he change anything. Things were a bit loose on how to proceed if he traveled to the future, but not to ask any questions and seek the quickest way back home was the best summary of the lengthy text. 

And, it looked like he was at Wayne Manor. So Batman must be around. He would know how to fix this. And, would Tim be able to meet himself? The adult version?

He fights the urge to grin as he tugs open the bedroom door and makes his way to the cave on silent feet. Batman find it unprofessional. Tim’s never actually been in the family wing before, so he goes into the wrong room. It’s an office, but not Bruce’s. There’s a desk in the middle of the room, a whiteboard tacked to one large wall and an old couch near the doorway. Tim wanders inside. He’s never seen it before. There’s an open laptop on the table, so Tim goes there first. It’s likely locked, and he’s not surprised when he finds a neutral blue screen asking the pincode, what’s actually surprising is the person ID. Tim Drake. This is his laptop. 

He doesn’t know why but the first number that comes to him is the day he learnt how to ride a bike. It was nothing super amazing. Some of the other kids in class could do it with no hands, or do wheelies. But Tim was proud. He had figured it out on his own, his father didn’t need to teach him. It baceme the most important date to him for a while.

He taps in the numbers with hesitant fingers and presses the enter key. It’s accepted.

The laptop opens on a video.

“Shit,” says a much older Tim. “You must be 14. Oh god.” 

So there's been some manner rouge attack and the outcome of said rounge attack is that Tim's been deaged to 14. Tim is also Red Robin. Tim also doesn't have a spleen. There may also be ninjas attacking him at random in order to seduce him to their evil immortal overlord's side and likely into his bed. He's also the CEO of Wayne Enterprises. 

"Yeah, I get that it's a lot. But uh, we've always had to deal with a lot, huh? This is a little different from usual, but eh semantics. So, if you're ever confused about anything, find the phone under your pillow and call a person named Pru, she can help you out with any Leaugue of Assassins business and call Kon if it's about anything else."

Big Tim smiles and it's shocking how similar he looks to Tim. He's not s chubby, he's got sharper eyes and cheekbones and his hair is longer than anything Tim would dare to try, but his smile is the same. It's a little joking, a little happy, and just like the thing Tim had seen on the surface of the Batmobile when Batman told him he did a good job at patrol. 

"But you're me, so you got this," says Big Tim. He suddenly looks up over the camera and his expression fades into something neutral. Two seconds pass, Tim hears a door close. "Also, you should get out of the manor as quick as you can. That place wasn't safe for me and it isn't safe for you now. Jason Todd is alive and he hates us. Avoid the Robin in a katana, he's got it out for us too. Bruce can't keep us safe" - Tim notes a miniscule shift in the muscles of Big Tim's jaw - "or won't, if it's possible, he's even harder to read now. Dick is…"  Tim watches as his face falls and something that looks alarmingly like a tear wells up in his eyes. "Dick is… We're not the most important thing to him. Don't count on him to have your back, it's better if you ditch before he sees you."

There's a lot to think about. And before he has the time to give any idea in those last few sentences any serious thought. The Tim on screen is already moving on. 

"Address, phone, laptop and everything else should be in the hidden compartment above your bed. Feel around for the switch. Get to the apartment and send an email to Tam Fox, use the words 'I am unwell and cannot make it to the office. Please postpone my meetings and cancel the order' she'll know what that means. That should be everything. Good luck, kid. " 

The screen cuts to black and Tim's up and moving before he can stew on the contents of the video for too long. It was a selfish thought anyway, that Bruce and Dick and Alfred woul ever love him. He's the replacement for a dead boy, it would have been impossible to live up to him, Tim doesn't know why he tried. And oh god, Jason Todd hates him. The back of his throat burns and he gulps down a swallow, unwilling to let the sounds of his sob infect the silent manor. His hero hates him. The boy he loved the most in the world hates him. 

Dick Grayson was an ideal. Something perfect and untouchable, he wasn't actually. Nobody was perfect, But the first Robin and now Nightwing had always given off the aura of untouchable idealility. He was the example to follow, the person everyone strove to be or wanted to be near. In his brief stint as Robin, Tim noticed how he drove people towards them. Bruce didn’t know it, but he was lighter when Dick was around, and Barabara was more likely to join patrols. The older Titans gravitated around him, like planets in his orbit, a product of long-term trust and friendship, but even strangers seemed to know that Dick was all that is good. 

Of course, Tim knew that he could never replace Jason as his brother, but in the deepest part of his heart, he had always hoped to become family adjacent. That one day Dick would look at him with the same softness he only reserved for Bruce and Alfred. To know that he could not even trust him… Well, that hurt more than he thought possible.

Through some miracle of God, Tim didn’t cry and managed to find the hidden compartment above his bed. In a square hole the size of a small cabinet he found a slim laptop, a phone, and a thick stack of money bound together by a rubber band. There were no clothes he could switch into, but this Gotham was likely similar to his Gotham, no one would bat an eye at a boy wearing oversized clothes. He found some sneakers in the closet, too big, but he fit them over his feet anyway and snuck out of his room for the second time. 

Silence reigned supreme in the manor, bearing an uncanny resemblance to Tim’s house. Big Tim said his house was destroyed in the aftermath of an earthquake that changed a lot of Gotham’s cityscape. The address he found on the phone in his hand was somewhere in the middle of the city, so the second thing he did was call for an Uber in the most silent voice possible. The person on the phone informed him of a twenty-minute wait, which would be plenty of time for Tim to escape Batman’s house and wait outside Drake manor.

The phone was shoved into pockets of his sweatpants, while the money and the laptop rested in a bag he had discovered, and after much exploration, he found what looked to be a family room. 

Tim cursed. This may take longer than his estimated time. He set off down another promising hallway, only to stutter to a stop when he heard voices.

“So? ‘S he alright? Baby bird took a pretty bad hit,” says a voice. It’s rough, like the voice of a smoker, and possesses a thick Crime Alley accent. Male. 

Tim feels his heart stop when he hears the first man’s companion respond. “Alred says he’s healthy, so we moved him up to his room. Timmy should be waking up soon.”

It’s Dick. No no no- He’s supposed to be avoiding Dick. That’s what Big Tim said to do. He shouldn’t be here. He should be moving. 

It’s all for naught because that’s when the men turn the corner and run right into Tim. He runs a quick glance over them. Tall, muscular, and big. One’s bigger than the other and has a white streak through his hair. The other is… it’s Dick. Older, with more lines near his eyes and mouth, but the same person he saw at patrol earlier (or later, depending on who you asked) that day. 

The person who didn’t love him. Who didn’t even like him maybe? 

Tim can’t help it. When their eyes widen and older Dick takes a step toward him, he bursts into tears.   

[twoidiotwriters1]

Almighty (Leo Valdez xFem!Oc)

A/N: Apollo is here and I couldn't be happier I love him -Danny Words: 2,554 Series' Masterlist Previous Chapter // Next Chapter Listen to: 'Paul Revere' -by Noah Kahan

VIII: Dang Bitch, You Live Like This?

Ara stares at him in shock. "Come again?"

"He's the god Apollo." The little girl replies, eyeing her sword with massive interest.

"If you really are Apollo, tell me something only he would know." It's no secret that Ara's looking for the sun god, so asking for proof makes sense.

The boy cleans his bloody nose and thinks hard, looking rather pathetic. "Your boyfriend gave me a Valdezinator that sounds exactly like the piece Michael wrote to heal people."

The demigod lowers her sword immediately and urges them forward. "Go in."

Ara opens the door to her apartment and speaks over her shoulder. "Stay here. Do not leave." She rushes to the kitchen where Sally and Percy are laughing. Ara clears her throat and Percy smiles at her. 

"Birdy—"

"Apollo's at the door," she announces quickly. "I think he's mortal."

Percy stops smiling. "What?"

"I can't leave him outside, so they're coming in," Ara walks back to the entrance. "He's got a little girl with him, Percy, so don't be scary!"

He follows her to the door. Ara opens it and curtsies. "Come in, my lord."

"Appreciated," the boy drags himself into the apartment, the young girl following close.

"Who's your friend?" Percy stares at the girl.

"This is Meg McCaffrey, a demigod who must be taken to Camp Half-Blood. She rescued me from street thugs."

"Rescued..." Percy glances at his sister. "You mean the 'beat-up teenager' look isn't just a disguise? Dude, what happened to you?"

"I may have mentioned the street thugs."

"But you're a god."

"About that... I was a god."

"Prove it," Ara demands. The boy pulls out an ID with his picture and the name Lester Papadopoulos. "Zeus is really angry at you, huh?"

Apollo scoffs but he doesn't argue. "Oh! Before I forget, my dear muse," he flashes her a weak smile. "I'm fairly certain we're being followed by malicious spirits."

"What?" Ara locks the door a second time. "Why didn't you say that before I brought you up to my mother's apartment?!"

"Well, you must ensure my safety, and you will take care of this, won't you?" Apollo questions off-handedly.

Percy inches closer and whispers. "Can't believe he came looking for you..."

"I'm a hero now, of course he would look for me," she grumbles.

"Yeah, but—"

"Sacred Sibyl!" Apollo—Lester—gasps when their mother comes out of the kitchen. "Madam, there is something wrong with your midsection!"

"Well, I'm seven months pregnant," Sally stops in her tracks.

"How can you bear it?" The god moans in despair. "My mother, Leto, suffered through a long pregnancy, but only because Hera cursed her. Are you cursed?"

"Um, Apollo? She's not cursed," Percy steps in. "And can you not mention Hera?"

"You poor woman." Apollo sighs. "A goddess would never allow herself to be so encumbered. She would give birth as soon as she felt like it."

"Let's focus on your issues, my lord." So we can get rid of you faster.

Percy clears his throat. "Mom, this is Apollo and his friend Meg. Guys, this is our mom."

"Call me Sally." She examines Apollo's injured face. "Dear, that looks painful. What happened? I tell you what—Percy can help you get bandaged and cleaned up." 

"I can?" Percy asks with annoyance. 

Ara elbows him before gesturing at Apollo. "This way, lord..."

"Ara, you give Meg your old clothes, pre-growth spurt," Sally says bemusedly.

The girl nods. "Sure. Come along, Meg."

"What are we gonna do?"

"I'll take care of it."

"Ara..."

"Before you say anything, remember I'm turning sixteen this year," she glares at him. "You fought your prophecy when you were my age."

"Yeah, I..." Percy blinks as if just realizing that she's right. "Gods, you're turning sixteen already?"

"This is Mike's father we're talking about," Ara brushes that aside. "The song I use to heal people? Michael wrote it. I do this for him, Percy, I have to help."

He pauses, some kind of understanding that isn't helping him feel better dawns upon him, and causes his shoulders to slump. The door to their bathroom opens and Apollo comes out of it, sheepish but clean. "What happened to you, man?" Percy grimaces. "The war ended in August. It's January."

"It is?"

Ara and Percy share a look. "I knew this would happen," she sighs. "I saw how Zeus treated you, I knew he was going to punish you."

"I—I don't know where I've been," Apollo fidgets with his shirt. "I have some memory gaps."

Percy wrinkles his nose. "I hate memory gaps. Last year I lost an entire semester thanks to Hera."

"It's normal," Ara tries to ease the god. "Either your consciousness is trying to adjust to a mortal brain, or Zeus took it on purpose so it's harder for you to return."

"Well, that's why I've come to you!" Apollo smiles. "I can't do it, but surely the daughter of Olympus can fix this! It's your job!"

Ara frowns. "I'd rather not test the King of the gods by helping his currently hormonal teenage son that he's trying to punish, besides, I have never turned anyone into a god."

"We can drive you and Meg to camp if that's what you want," Percy offers. "We never turn away a demigod who needs help—"

"Wonderful! Do you have something besides the Prius? A Maserati, perhaps? I'd settle for a Lamborghini."

Percy ignores that. "Apollo, I can't get involved in another Big Prophecy or whatever. I've made promises."

"Promises?"

"I lost most of my junior year because of the war with Gaea. I've spent this entire fall playing catch-up with my classes. If I want to go to college with Annabeth next fall, I have to stay out of trouble and get my diploma."

"Annabeth." Apollo squints. "She's the blond scary one?"

"That's her. I promised her specifically that I wouldn't get myself killed while she's gone." 

"Gone?"

"She's in Boston for a few weeks. Some family emergency. The point is—"

"You're saying you cannot offer me your undivided service to restore me to my throne?" 

"Yeah." He pointed at the bedroom doorway. "Besides, my mom's pregnant. We're going to have a baby sister. I'd like to be around to get to know her."

"Well, I understand that. I remember when Artemis was born—"

"Aren't you twins?"

"I've always regarded her as my little sister."

Percy glances at his sister. I need this guy out of here. "Anyway, my mom's got that going on, and her first novel is going to be published this spring as well, so I'd like to stay alive long enough to—"

"Wonderful! Remind her to burn the proper sacrifices. Calliope is quite touchy when novelists forget to thank her."

"Okay. But what I'm saying... I can't go off on another world-stomping quest. I can't do that to my family. I've already given my mom enough heart attacks for one lifetime. She's just about forgiven me for disappearing last year, but I swore to her and Paul that I wouldn't do anything like that again."

Percy and Apollo turn to her. Ara shrugs. "Yeah well, no parents are freaking out about me. They know I have to obey, and I'm a triple-R: Resilient radioactive roach."

"Do you think he counts, though?" Percy squints.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, look at him."

"You do understand that I must find a way to return to Olympus," Apollo sounds slightly offended. "This will probably involve many harrowing trials with a high chance of death. Can you turn down such glory?"

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure I can," Percy replies impatiently. "And Ara should too, if you're not a god anymore, that means she doesn't work for you."

"Percy!"

"What? It's the truth. Your second semester is only getting started, this guy shouldn't be distracting you."

The thing is, she wants a distraction. Ara can't stand another week of normalcy while her demigod life crumbles and gets more and more confusing. She has to fix things, and now she has a path to follow in the shape of a weak-looking deity.

"It wouldn't be wise to give him an advantage Zeus might not want for him," she leans on the wall. "But I can't say no just to be punished later. I won't decide anything until I figure it out."

"You will at least escort us to Camp Half-Blood?" Apollo asks sorely.

"That we can do." Percy gets up and pats Ara's shoulder. "Let's see if Meg's ready for a field trip." 

"Percy, your mom is so normal."

"Thanks, I guess." 

"I see you like to study," Apollo looks at the manuals on the coffee table. "Well done."

"I hate to study," Percy snorts. "I've been guaranteed admission with a full scholarship to New Rome University, but they're still requiring me to pass all my high school courses and score well on the SAT. Can you believe that? Not to mention I have to pass the DSTOMP."

"The what?" Meg wrinkles her nose.

"An exam for Roman demigods. The Demigod Standard Test of Mad Powers," Apollo explains.

"That's what it stands for?" Percy raises a brow.

"I should know. I wrote the music and poetry analysis sections."

"I will never forgive you for that," Her brother scoffs. "Ara's doing her best to help me out, but the truth is—"

"We're both equally dumb and painfully dyslexic," Ara grabs a cookie.

"So you're really demigods? Like me?" Meg asks, shifting around the couch with barely controlled energy.

"Afraid so. My dad is the godly one—Poseidon. Ara was born an Aphrodite but now she's the daughter of the gods, which means they all get to mistreat her as much as they please."

"Gee, you really know how to sell it," Ara mutters.

"What about your parents?" Percy asks the little girl.

Meg stares at her hands. "Never knew them... much."

Percy tilts his head. "Foster home? Stepparents?" Meg turns away from him. "Sorry. Didn't mean to pry. I'm just asking 'cause Ara's adopted, and most demigods got similar stories."

"I'm adopted?!" Ara gasps. Percy punches her arm lightly.

Meg looks up at the girl with the same amazed gaze as before. "You are?"

"You're twelve, aren't you?" Ara smiles. "I was your age when I got adopted. If you've been alone all this time, you must be tough." Meg blushes, looking away from her. She glows a bright leaf green that pulls Ara's air out of her lungs. It's identical to Mike's.

"So how did you guys meet?" Percy asks Apollo.

Apollo breaks it down for them: he landed on a dumpster, got jumped on an alleyway, and Meg saved him. While they talk, Sally brings more and more food and Ara watches Apollo and Meg shove fistful after fistful into their mouths. "Percy," Apollo moans as he finishes his plate. "Your mom is awesome."

"I know, right?" Percy cleans his mouth messily. "So back to your story... you have to be Meg's servant now? You guys barely know each other."

"Barely is generous. Nevertheless, yes. My fate is now linked with young McCaffrey." 

"We are cooperating," Meg says with satisfaction.

Ara rubs her forehead, nursing a headache while she listens. She's not really in pain, headaches aren't really aches but a strange pulsing behind her eyes, like a light that she keeps trying to put into focus, not painful, but dizzying. It usually happens when she spends too much time remembering things—and it gets stronger whenever she tries to recall her regressions. They're getting blurrier as time goes on.

"So, just to recap," Percy repeats. "You have to be Meg's servant for...?"

"Some unknown amount of time. Probably a year. Possibly more."

"And during that time—"

"I will undoubtedly face many trials and hardships."

"Like getting me my cows," Meg pipes in.

Apollo's jaw clenches. "What those trials will be, I do not yet know. But if I suffer through them and prove I am worthy, Zeus will forgive me and allow me to become a god again. I need time to get my bearings. Once we get to Camp Half-Blood, I can consult with Chiron. I can figure out which of my godly powers remain with me in this mortal form—and if the daughter of Olympus is allowed to serve me."

Percy runs a hand through his hair. "Any idea what kind of spirits are following you?"

"Shiny blobs," Meg responds. "They were shiny and sort of... blobby."

"Those are the worst kind." Percy nods solemnly.

"I've no idea what that could be," Ara mumbles.

"It hardly matters," Apollo brushes it off. "Whatever they are, we have to flee. Once we reach camp, the magical borders will protect me."

"You and Meg, you mean," Ara raises a brow. "I'm not fully certain you didn't kidnap her so we would take pity on you."

Percy realizes something. "Apollo, if you're really mortal, like, one hundred percent mortal, can you even get in to Camp Half-Blood?"

"Please don't say that," Apollo whines. "Of course I'll get in. I have to."

"But you could get hurt in battle now... Then again, maybe monsters would ignore you because you're not important?"

"Maybe he won't taste good in the state he is," Ara examines his looks. "Barely any meat..."

"Stop! I'm sure I've retained some powers, I'm still gorgeous, for instance, if I could just get rid of this acne and lose some flab. I must have other abilities!"

Ara and Percy share a look again, then they turn to Meg. "What about you?" Percy asks. "I hear you throw a mean garbage bag. Any other skills we should know about? Summoning lightning? Making toilets explode?"

Meg grins. "That's not a power."

"Sure it is," Percy replies sweetly. "Some of the best demigods have gotten their start by blowing up toilets." Meg's soul light comes back again as she giggles. Ara smiles too, Percy has that effect on... well, pretty much everyone. Even her, though her affection has always been molded to be platonic.

"How soon can we leave?" Apollo presses, not liking how he's not the center of attention.

Percy shrugs. "Right now, I guess. If you're being followed, I'd rather have monsters on our trail than sniffing around the apartment—I just have to be back tonight, and I'm taking Ara. Got a lot of studying. The first two times I took the SAT—ugh. If it wasn't for Annabeth and Birdy helping me out—"

"Who's that?"

"Annabeth's my girlfriend and Birdy's what I call Ara." Meg's soul light dies instantly. That is probably the fastest falling out Ara's seen when it comes to Percy, even faster than Lily's.

"So take a break!" Apollo claps. "Your brain will be refreshed after an easy drive to Long Island."

"Huh," Percy squints. "There's a lazy kind of logic to that. Okay. Let's do it." Sally comes in with a badge of cookies and the boy raises his hands as if about to calm a dangerous creature. "Mom, don't freak..."

Sally's expression drops. "I hate it when you say that."

"We're just going to take these two to camp. That's all. We'll be right back."

"I think I've heard that before."

"I promise," Percy seizes Ara's hand and squeezes. "We'll be back."

"At least one of us will," Ara replies sarcastically, earning a harsh elbow on the ribs.

"All right. Be careful. It was lovely meeting you both. Please try not to die." Percy kisses his mother's cheek and tries to get a cookie. "Oh, no! Apollo and Meg can have one, but I'm keeping the rest hostage until you're back safely. And hurry, it would be a shame if Paul ate them all when he gets home."

"You hear that, guys? A batch of cookies is depending on us," Percy scowls. "If you get any of us killed on the way to camp, I am going be ticked off."

Ara hums, trying not to look too pleased about having a quest. "I'll get my Octopus."

Next Chapter –>

Taglist.

@siriuslysirius1107 @ask-giggles1303 @im-planning-something-look @bandshirts-andbooks @coolninjapaper @thewaterlily @whenisthefall @1randomcomic @you-bloody-shank @sunflowergraves @owlalex44 @taylordaughter @typicalsolangelolover @writingmia @espressopatronum454 @slytherinnqueen @orbitingpolaris @obxstiles @ellipsisspelled @thepixiechicksh @ebony-reine-vibes

[sillygay]

The story about how Nate And Finnie met

It was a regular day like no other and poor Nate got sent to detention again like always.

Nate sat down in his usual chair as he started writing sentences.

About five minutes pass by. Then ms Godfrey comes back but with a different student.

She pushes the kid in the room and then leaves.

Nate glances at that kid then looks back at his paper.

The kid sits down on the floor and puts his hood up while he tries to calm down.

Nate notices this and looks at him. Nate gets up out of his seat and walks over to that kid and sits next to him.

Nate: you alright?

Finnie: N-no

Nate: what happened?

Finnie: I got yelled at for wearing ear defenders in class.

Nate: is this why you’re here?

Finnie: yeah. I refused to remove them.

Nate: oh I’m sorry that happened to you. My names Nate. Im a sixth grader.

Finnie: nice to meet you. My names Finnie I’m an eighth grader.

Nate: oh you’re an older one huh?

Finnie: heh yeah.

Nate: could you remove your hood? Only if it’s okay with you

Finnie: yeah that’s probably a good idea *finn takes off his hood*

Nate: wow you’re really cute *blushes a bit*

Finnie: oh, thank you you’re pretty cute yourself Nate

*nate smiles as he slowly fall in love without even realizing it. But then Nate sees Finnie’s bracelet*

Nate: oh cool bracelet what does it say?

Finnie: oh thanks it says Autism it’s my Autism Medical ID bracelet.

Nate: oh? *nate starts to think about the ear defenders then puts everything together*

Finnie: I was born with autism.

Nate: I-is that why you use ear defenders?

Finnie: yeah.

Nate: so does this mean you’re disabled?

Finnie: yes, I’m disabled.

Nate: oh that’s interesting so disabled people can be disabled physically but also in the brain?

Finnie: yeah I guess you could say that. Autism is known as a hidden disability.

Nate: oh that make lots of sense now. You’re really attra—-I mean awesome

Finnie: aww thanks *pats him on the head*

Nate blushes as he falls for Finnie deeply.

Finnie: heh you’re kinda adorable…probably because you’re shorter than me haha

Nate: I’m not that short but okay fine.

Nate giggles as he blushes.

Finnie starts to realize that Nate likes him.

Finnie: I only have a couple minutes left of detention so I’m gonna give you my phone number so we can talk later *Finnie gives Nate a paper with his number on it*

Nate: I-i uhm wow thank you….i don’t have a phone yet so I’ll call you on my dad’s phone.

Finnie: sounds good to me *the bell rings*

Nate: bye Finnie it was nice meeting you

Finnie: oh and one last thing *finnie grabs Nate by the face and gives him a quick smooch on the lips before running out of detention*

Nate: uhhhhhhh….w-w-what j-just h-happened?

*nates face turns beat red and he freezes up in shock before getting up a couple minutes later and heading home*

*as the night rolled around all Nate could do was lay in bed and think about finnie and how handsome and sweet he was that’s when it hit him*

Nate: I-I’m in love.

[snailsdraw]

[Start ID: Continuing from Part 10, 4 more pages of HLVRAI doodles following the Neo Science Team as they are preparing to head into the Xen Portal. Trigger Warning for death and animal death mention.

Tommy looks sad: "It might be time to...to let go, Darnold. Between right here and in there...maybe...she'll be safer...here..." Darnold's eyes widen in realisation of what Tommy is asking him to do, and he looks down at Sasha, the Gubb climbing her way up clumsily to rest on his shoulder where she begins to chatter contentedly. She had gotten quite comfortable in his presence over the time they'd spent together. Darnold turns away, teeth gritted and sorrowful eyes hidden behind the light reflected in his lab goggle. Benrey, who's leaning on the opposite wall with arms folded, glances momentarily at Darnold with an unreadable expression before looking down.

Gordon's concerned: "You good there, Darnold? You, uh-" "I- I need a minute," Darnold stammers, cutting him off. "I'll be right back..." He starts down the hall back the way they came, and the Science Team looks on sadly. "You think he's gonna be alright walking off by himself like that?" Gordon asks Tommy. Behind them, Dr Coomer places a hand over his heart and the other on Bubby's shoulder and solemnly says: "Oh, I miss him every day."

Gordon turns around immediately: "No...no," he sighs, "Dr Coomer, he's not dead. Just because someone walks out of your line of vision doesn't mean they die. Object permanence, man." Dr Coomer simply keeps his overly woeful expression. Even Bubby looks at Coomer in mild confusion. "Mr Freeman?" a voice calls from next to Gordon. "Mr- Mr Freeman?" Gordon turns around to address Tommy, tiredly: "Huh, wuh, yeah? Yes?" Tommy averts his eyes, very carefully piecing his next words together: "...Mr Freeman, Darnold...he has a very hard decision to make, Mr Freeman. A-and sometimes...that means being- needing to be alone...like making the decision to..."

Tommy pauses, thinking, then resumes: "...to put it lightly, the decision to say goodbye to a pet." Gordon stares at him, struck speechless for a moment. "Tommy, that might be your darkest analogy yet. What is UP with you guys and having death on the brain?" "Oh, I'm okay now," Darnold says as he walks past, startling Gordon who hadn't noticed his return. Darnold's expression is hidden. "We may proceed," Darnold says, pressing ahead. Gordon sputters: "Oh, uh, yeah! Okay!" "Welcome back, Dr Darnold!" Dr Coomer says jovially. The team begin their walk to the Xen Portal. /End ID.]

Previous story parts found here: [Part 1.][Part 2.][Part 3.][Part 4.][Part 5.][Part 6.][Part 7.][Part 8.][Part 9.][Part 10.]

(BTW Sasha's fine, don't worry. The Science Team is being overdramatic.)

[enchanted-lightning-aes]

Tent Set-Ups Going Wrong

[ID: a green badge of a tent with text that reads ‘Sambucky Summer Camp Bingo, Stuck in a Tent, ESTD. 2023 / finish ID]

Title: Tent Set-Ups Gone Wrong

Square Filled: Stuck in a Tent

A/N: just a light-hearted cracky entry for @sambuckylibrary. where sam tries filming a Cap P.S.A, only for it to go in shambles.^^

Word Count: 873

T.W: None-ish

***

Part of being Captain America was having to maintain one's presence in the media. And while Sam tended to be exhausted from handling press conferences and interviews, he did what he could.

Sure, he couldn't dodge inappropriate or racist questions regarding his position, he knew how to deal with them. He knew how to be composed, not allowing any initial frustration get the best of him. Aware it wouldn't do him any good.

Although, it would be nice to talk back, sometimes. Even Bucky wanted to slam some reporter's head against wall at how he got a question that he disliked. Immensely.

Unfortunately, it also included some certain things that he didn't think of. . .

"You want me to star in those P.S.As?" Sam asked in disbelief.

He had been summoned to a small studio in D.C, where he had to discuss of his schedule. They all decided to meet at Rock Creek Park, where they would be filming. Since summer was approaching, they needed to have commercials featuring Sam, front and center.

"Well, Steve did it and you might as well too," the producer explained, plastering a smile that looked more of a wince. "All part of the job, I guess."

Sam huffed a sigh. "Alright. Let's get this over with."

"Do you have to?" Bucky asked.

"I mean we can do something else," Joaquin added, sounding dismayed.

"Like I said, guys." Sam adjusted his cowl. "We should finish this."

Both Bucky and Joaquin exchanged a glance of chagrin.

They gathered at a small grassy field as the crew prepared the mini set. Just some bundles of wood, tents, and sleeping bags.

The director lifted a megaphone, adjusted in her seat.

"Lights. . . Camera. . . Action!"

Someone slammed the clapperboard and Sam propped his hands on his sides, facing the camera. And while Bucky and Torres stood by his sides, waving.

"So, you wanna learn how to arrange a tent, huh?" Sam asked, flashing his signature megawatt smile. "Well, lemme show you how it's done. With the help of my team, anything is possible!"

The wind howled, moving past him in a heavy current.

"Wow, you sure are pulling this off, Samuel," Bucky whispered wryly.

Repressing any urge to roll his eyes, Sam beckoned Bucky and Joaquin at the tent supplies strewn on the grass.

"First you gotta set it up," Sam said into the camera, sweeping an arm over at them. "Then put your components on the tarp. Connect your tent poles together. Insert those poles into where they ought to be and raise the tent up. Now watch as my good friends, Sergeant Bucky Barnes and Lieutenant Joaquin Torres, take this step by step."

Yeah, Sam had to memorize an entire instruction manual for this. So, if any of them noticed how he sounded automatic, maybe he could change it for another take.

Who knew how long would this go on? He had sternly informed those two to be on their best behavior. Although, that approach didn't work by eighty percent.

Bucky and Joaquin adjusted the tent's equipment, setting up the poles. They started raising the tent up slowly yet diligently. The breeze smacked a flap against Bucky and his fingers trembled upon adjusting the hook.

Whoa, it was such a big tent, he thought, refraining from gaping.

Just as Sam could have peered into the camera, the wind's heavy strength shook the poles. Yanking them off their positions. Bucky froze and flung an arm around, only for the tent to collapse down on him.

"Sam! Sam! Help! I think. . . I'm trapped!" Bucky sounded panicked.

Oh yikes, Sam thought. He tried maintaining his smile.

He should have known even filming a damn P.S.A wouldn't go peacefully. Most things in his line of work didn't.

The director and filming crew chattered in hushed tones containing concern. Joaquin winced, bowing his head while scratching his forehead.

"Okay, Cap to the rescue, everyone!" Sam sprinted towards the fallen tent.

He tried pushing it upwards and Bucky moved, crawling out of it. He scrambled to his feet, pressing his hands against the tent. The wind howled again, growing louder and denser. Streaks of grey scattered within the sky as clouds gathered.

The tent collapsed on both of them, sending them flat against the ground.

Both of them let out a grunt and a yelp, their shoulders budging and nudging. Bucky squeezed his eyes shut and Sam tried kicking the tent.

If the weather was gonna be this concerning, he would have rescheduled the entire damn thing. However, he had to be in this predicament.

Yep. Sam was so not cut out for this shit. He should be a hell lot selective if he had to take up this gig. Ever again. Simple P.S.As filmed in a studio? Doable. Something he could manage, at the very least.

". . . you're going to cut this out of the finished footage, aren't you?" Joaquin asked, sounding hesitant.

"Cut! Cut!" the director yelled, her voice amplified by her megaphone's speakers. "Okay, can. . . Can someone get Cap and his sidekick out of there?"

Bucky sighed. "Maybe if we filmed indoors instead of outdoors, we wouldn't be in this tricky situation."

"Shoulda known this was a bad idea," Sam mumbled, clutching onto the tent's edge.

***

[ask-team-misfit]

[ previous ]

Even upon getting there, he seemed hesitant to elaborate, instead being preoccupied with showing Pikavee around.

Lief: “So, uh. What do you think? This is the outside of my burrow.”

Pikavee wiped her eyes and glanced around. It was a small clearing dotted with flowers; a tiny meadow barely large enough for her to really lie down.

Pikavee: “It’s… nice.”

Lief: “Yeah. Should be about enough room for you to sleep out here.”

Walking up to the wooden cover of the burrow entrance, he tapped at it with his foot.

Lief: “I live right down here, in this cozy little hole. Of course it’s a bit of a mess right now, but uh…”

He trailed off, as if trying to think of something else to say to fill the dead air. His eyes darted anywhere but her face.

He was quick to pluck a berry from a nearby berry bush as soon as he noticed it.

Lief: “Oh and, food. There’s plenty of berries here and… stuff.”

[ ID: A grayscale bust drawing of Lief slightly angled away from the viewer towards the left. He looks shocked, or fearful. A couple of sweat drops are present on his face. His smile, resembling the “:3” emoticon, looks forced. Lief’s appearance is as described here. End ID ]

Lief: “Y-you don’t eat much, do you?”

Pikavee: “Um. It's… it’s fine.”

Any sort of enthusiasm he may have had, fake or not, began to vanish. He had even more trouble looking at her directly.

Lief: “You hate it here that much, do you… now I’ve done it.”

She didn't answer for a long while. She looked away with a murmur.

Pikavee: “I-it's… not really that…”

Lief: “Then what is it?”

Pikavee: “Why do you owe me an apology?”

Once again, he paused.

Pikavee: “Did you know, and didn’t tell me? O-or is it something e–”

Lief: “Alright already. I confess. I’m not good with this kinda stuff. How the hell do you expect me to be straight with you when you look at me like that?”

He wasn't looking at Pikavee anymore. He seemingly deflated, as his antennae and wings both drooped. More notably, his voice was a lot quieter.

[ ID: A grayscale drawing of Lief similar to the previous image. He looks sad or concerned, appearing to have some troubling thoughts he's refusing to speak of. He's looking away to the right. End ID ]

Lief: “If anything, I was hoping to be wrong. Stuff goes around, I hear about it, but I don’t know everything. The Isle’s a big place. Honestly, that kid…”

At the thought of Fenninkou, he once again raised a paw to pinch his forehead.

Lief: “Ugh… I don’t know what I expected. You really didn’t need to see any of that, let alone know a damn thing about how townies feel about me. About us.”

Pikavee: “Wh-what do you mean?”

Lief: “You know how I said I don’t have the best reputation over there? Believe it or not, it’s not because I’m kind of a nuisance.”

He glanced at her for a moment, gauging her reaction.

She merely stared back, waiting for him to continue.

Lief: “Wait. You actually believe me?”

Pikavee nodded.

Lief blinked at her for another moment before scoffing.

[ ID: A grayscale drawing of Lief similar to the previous image. He appears dismissive, glancing away towards the right with very narrow eyes. He's visibly flushed all over his face, with the blush shown in color. End ID ]

Lief: “Gods, you’re naive. No one else is that nice to me, you know.”

Pikavee: “I… know how that feels. But, kinda differently.”

Lief: “Enlighten me.”

Pikavee: “No one else I know has been nice to me, but I don’t really know anyone else but my human.”

Lief: “Huh.”

Some moments of silence followed.

Pikavee: “Did you… still wanna talk about it?”

Another pause, though only for a moment. He wasn’t even looking at her as he spoke up.

Lief: “It’s because I’m feral, Pikavee.”

Pikavee: “Huh?”

Lief: “Because I live out here, in the Wilds. Born and raised. It didn’t used to be that bad, but now? Townies look down on us like we’re just in the way. All because of that Treasure Hunting stuff.”

Pikavee didn’t look sure how to respond. She understood very little about the politics of this place; what Treasure Hunting even was. But that aside, it bothered her that Lief would be treated this way over his place of birth, of all things.

He continued before she could consider saying something, again with that bitter tone.

Lief: “They’re going to do that with you too, you know. And when you need them the most? Completely turn you away.”

[ ID: A grayscale drawing of Lief similar to the previous image. His eyes are narrowed in an annoyed glare. His mouth is open, as if in the midst of a tangent. End ID ]

Lief: “So don’t think about helping them. Don’t even become attached.”

Pikavee: “A… a-are you sure?”

Lief sighed a little.

Lief: “Never been more sure. Like it not, you’re a feral, too. A misfit, just like me.”

[ ID: A grayscale drawing of Lief similar to the previous image. He looks sad or concerned, appearing to have some troubling thoughts he's refusing to speak of. He's looking away to the right. End ID ]

Lief: “I know you don’t actually live here and all, don’t correct me. But where else could you possibly stay but here? With me…”

A lot of what Lief said still clearly bothered her, but she said nothing–she didn’t know what to retort with. She meekly rested her head against one of her forelegs, lying down to rest her throbbing head.

Lief: “If you ever wanted to in the first place, anyway. It’s the best I got, but if you have ideas, I’m all ears.”

[the12thnightproject]

Chapter 48: Two Degrees of Separation - Comparing notes with Sasuke and Shingen leads to more questions about the multiverse.

Shingen x OC; Kenshin x MC (Mai)

Previous Chapter: Here

Logline - Disguised as a boy, Katsuko finds herself working for Shingen, but her dangerous masquerade becomes difficult to sustain when she falls for the man with a fatal secret.

“I brought these in from the car.” Sasuke slid open the door to the bedroom wide enough to pass a few shopping bags through.

“You can come in. We’re both decent.” I took the bags, noting one of them was from a high-end lingerie store. That… had the possibility of going very very wrong, in a number of ways. I dropped the bags on the foot of the bed, as Sasuke settled in a chair by the window. “You let Shingen loose in a lingerie store?”

There was a rather embarrassed cough from the ninja by the window. He looked away from us.

“I was fine. He’s the one who can’t be trusted around women’s underclothes. I may be scarred for life.” Shingen shot a glare at Sasuke, who seemed to take great interest in the parking lot outside.

“I thought it was a mannequin and not a live model,” Sasuke muttered.

“Nope. Don’t need any more details there.” Instead, I dove into the bags, finding a couple pairs of jeans, some t-shirts… “Oooh, Black Widow, nice.”

“Figured Natasha Romanov would be your jam.” Sasuke sounded more confident now that we’d left the subject of underwear.

“Oh yeah… and I’ve got about seven years of MCU to catch up on. And I don’t know how many seasons of Game of Thrones.” It hadn’t occurred to me until that moment that I’d finally learn how some of these continuing stories ended.

Shingen and Sasuke looked at each other, then Sasuke shook his head. “Um… about the Game of Thrones conclusion… you might actually find the story of my adventures in ladies lingerie categorically less traumatic.”

Huh. I returned my attention to the bags and pulled out a hoodie! I hugged it to me. It was red, not the blue-grey shade of the one that I had been wearing on the day I had initially gone through the wormhole, but it was soft and warm and felt like home in a way that no other article of clothing had. “How did you know?” I slipped it on and zipped it up.

There was a tug on the hood. Shingen flipped it up over my head. “Red hood. The better to see you with.”

“Alright, Sasuke, are you ready for all the wormhole weirdness I need to tell you about?” The three of us had relocated to the living area of the hotel suite to eat lunch that Sasuke had picked up from one of the hotel’s onsite restaurants. He’d asked me if I wanted pizza, but until I was sure how my digestive system would readjust to modern food, I’d decided to stick with soba noodles and a light soup. I was wearing my first pair of jeans in nearly seven (or was it eight now?) years, and they fit surprisingly well (Shingen: “I know every inch of your body, it wasn’t difficult”).

“Before we debrief, I have something else for you.” Sasuke handed me a sealed manila envelope. He didn’t say anything else, so I went ahead and opened it, pulling out identification papers, including a passport as well as a bank card. The accompanying account information made me do a double, then a triple take to make sure I was reading the amount correctly.

“Sasuke, do you have previously unrevealed connections with the Yakuza?” I took a second look at the passport. Yes that was definitely me in the picture – it looked like my old student ID photo, had been “aged up” slightly. The birthday was correct as well. Someone clearly had skills.

“No. Not that I am aware of. This came from a Professor I know.” Sasuke glanced over my shoulder to look at the paperwork. “Holy mother forking shirtballs.”

“From your advisor? The one who arranged my hospital stay?” Shingen examined the passport. “Nice picture… but not as nice as the real thing.”

“No. Different professor. My advisor in Kyoto who helped get you into the University Hospital is Professor Sakaki. These – as well as Shingen’s papers and bank account … which did not have nearly this many zeros – came from a friend of my parents. I’m certain they have nothing to do with the Yakuza.” He laughed off the idea. “Actually, their friend, Professor Yamaoka was the man who gave the initial idea that led me to study wormholes and their relationship to temporal anomalies.”

Wait…what? Who?

“Professor Yamaoka.” I said it slowly, to confirm I had heard that correctly.

Aki, you have some ‘splaining to do.

“Yes.” Sasuke took the envelope and folded it up. There was a rattling noise within. “There appears to be something else inside.” He shook it. “Given the amount of money in your account, I can only surmise it’s a key to a safety deposit box that contains the Holy Grail.”

“The what?” Shingen apparently hadn’t worked his way up to European literature – or the Monty Python film (the latter was something I would make sure to correct before we went back to the Sengoku era).

“No.” I already knew what was rattling around in that envelope. “It will be a shogi piece. A lance… or maybe a knight.” It had better not be a pawn after all he’d put me through. I turned the envelope upside down and dumped the item onto the coffee table. It landed with a clink, spun a few times, and landed tokin side up.

The knight.

Sasuke blinked at me a few times. “How did you know?”

“I’ve been working for Yamaoka Akihira for the past seven years. Shogi is his… calling card.” I sank back into the sofa cushion. On the day he’d left me with Shingen, he’d kept his face in the shadows. Later, when I’d thought about it, I’d figured that he’d been trying to keep Shingen from seeing his face… but no… he’d been hiding from Sasuke.

A lot of explaining.

“Your old master… the man in the woods. He’s the same?” At my nod, Shingen turned to Sasuke. “You said this man is a friend of your parents?” Shingen quickly put things together, and I was sure he could tell this information had unsettled me.

“Yes… I mean, they aren’t besties, but I know he’s consulted them on history.” He picked up the tile and examined it. It was a modern tile, made out of some kind of tempered porcelain, and not one of the wooden ones we’d used when we played at The Mountain. “They might, possibly have some old photos of him that I could try to get my hands on.”

“Anything they have would be terrific. I feel like five mysteries just got solved, but five times that many new mysteries appeared.” Popping in and out of time would explain Aki’s many disappearing acts. But why had he never told me he was a fellow time traveler? Why had he never sent me home? And what was he doing in the Sengoku era to begin with? ‘Putting things on the right path’ seemed a lot more ominous now that I knew he was from the future. “Can they scan what they have and upload it to the cloud?”

Sasuke shook his head. “They’re mysteriously attached to paper. The last time I tried to talk my father through attaching a file, he emailed me his entire hard drive and crashed my laptop.”

I put the questions about Aki aside for the moment. Possibly Sasuke and Shingen, once I told them about my detour into another timeline, might be able to help put the pieces together when it came to Aki’s involvement. “Sasuke, remember when you said you thought Togakushi might lead to a different timeline than this?”

“Theoretically, yes, though I suppose since you made it here, that must not have been the case.” He was typing up notes on a tablet faster than I’d ever seen anyone type before. He glanced up and caught the expression on my face. “Ninja fingertips. I didn’t used to be able to type this fast.”

I led him back to the topic. “Yeah, about that. My trip through the wormhole was not like the original trip. I felt like I sort of… well, stuck.” And even though I was trying to be so totally blasé, like, ‘oh yeah, I got trapped in a temporal anomaly, NBD,’ I could feel my lungs tighten at the memory of the feeling of that fog sifting through my body. Shingen put his hand on my shoulder and gave me an encouraging squeeze. Yeah… he could tell I was upset.

“Given that the passage of months here and according to Yuki, in the Sengoku, was the same, you may actually have been stuck in there a year.” Right, Sasuke had gone back and for the between here and the Sengoku while I was missing. “But you didn’t experience that physically – or that wound on your arm would have healed completely – and you’d have starved to death.”

“Thanks Sasuke.” That time I did shudder. And the mental experience had been unsettling enough without throwing in starvation. “When I did come out of the wormhole, I was told I was in the wrong timeline.”

Sasuke stopped typing. He looked like he was trying not to bounce up and down on the couch. “Do you know what this means?” He hurried on before either of us could respond. “Proof that the timelines are connected to a multiverse. Who told you that you were in the wrong timeline?”

“You did.”

“I did? I did! That is… that is frakking awesome!” He pumped his fist, then bent over his tablet and did that supersonic speed typing again. “What did I say?”

Shingen and I looked at each other, exchanged a silent mental shrug, then back at Sasuke.

“You… or I guess technically Sasuke Mach 2, looked surprised to see me, and I asked you where Shingen was, and that’s when you – he said I was in the wrong timeline.” While Sasuke seemed to be having his nerdgasm, I glanced at Shingen to see how he took that. Aside from holding me even tighter, he appeared to be following along fairly well.

Sasuke continued to fire questions at me faster than I could process them. “Were you still at the Togakushi shrine? Were you in present time or the future of that time? What was I wearing? Did I have any cool tech? Did anything unusual happen before you got stuck?”

“Yes. Present, as far as I could tell. A parka. A cell phone – I think it was a cell phone. And…” Right before I got stuck Iekane had pushed me and told me… wait, before that. In my head, I rewound things back to when I was in the tree. “Shingen, have you ever heard the phrase don’t bring a knife to a gun fight?”

He pondered for a moment. “No. However it makes sense.”

I turned to Sasuke who was already typing into his tablet. “Yes, but not sure… ah. The Untouchables. 1987.”

“I’m pretty sure Iekane was already familiar with wormholes… and has been to the present before… in fact… he said… ‘I came here with him’ … him being Aki. I thought he meant he was with Aki before Aki based himself on the Mountain. But he could have meant that he came from this time with Aki.” Before Sasuke could ask more questions, I told my story from the moment Yuki and I had spotted Iekane. “Iekane looked happy to have gotten into the wormhole. If what Sasuke Mach 2 told me is true, maybe Iekane is the one who is messing up the timelines.”

“It wasn’t this Sasuke who talked to me at the flood site?” Shingen stared at Sasuke, as if he were trying to determine what was different about the other version of him. “I do remember thinking something was strange about you, but after all that happened, I’d put it out of my head once he said a child had fallen into the water.”

Pushed. The child was pushed. The boy… what was his name? His father had said it, hadn’t he? I tried to put myself back into that moment, but my thoughts were interrupted by Sasuke.

“Huh. I wonder how I travelled there without a wormhole… no wait, you said I told you that getting back here was ‘lateral jump’.” Sasuke turned his tablet into a sketch pad and began drawing some kind of schematic. “That would mean we could jump between different points in the multiverse, and-”

“Sasuke!” He looked up me, started by my tone. “You told me not to let you investigate. It sounded like getting me here stabilized this timeline. Maybe we should do as little interfering as possible.” For my part, once I was back in the Sengoku, I was going to stay as far from the wormhole nodes as possible.

“Agreed, Devil.” Shingen pressed a kiss to the side of my head. “The wormhole stole you from me once. I do not intend to let it happen again.”

“Investigating is not interfering.” Sasuke pointed out.

“Sasuke. I know you. You wouldn’t be able to resist poking around in alternate timelines… but, from what I can tell from the conversation I overheard,” I decided not to mention that I was pretty sure Sasuke Mach 2 had been talking with Katsuko Mach 2, “there’s a timeline where Kenshin is running around modern Toyko, causing all sorts of mayhem.”

Both Shingen and Sasuke were silent at that.

In fact, Sasuke literally turned pale.

Sasuke erased the schematic he’d begun to sketch on his tablet. “New plan. We stick to this timeline, and only use the wormhole to go back to the Sengoku era when it reopens – which should be in about three months.”

“That sounds like an excellent strategy,” Shingen said.

@bestbryn

[zmediaoutlet]

oh man the idea of constant vow au dean having to show up to collect sam at stanford in his girl body is SO good. the constant vow is so perfect as is but it is really fun to think about the what-ifs

"Hi," the woman says, smile stretching wide and too-friendly and fake, eyes skipping down Jessica's body from face to chest to feet. "I'm Grace. Sam's cousin."

"Cousin?" Jess says. "Oh -- I didn't know you had --"

"Yeah, family's not that close," the woman says, shrugging like what can you do, and then she says, "Man, Sammy's punching way above his weight class with you, huh? Way to go, man."

There's this weird adrenaline-surge tremble in Sam's bones. Waiting behind a gravestone for a ghost to show; lying to a cop's face and about to find out if it'll work. "Grace," he says, voice even by some miracle, and her eyes sweep up to his -- green, long lashes -- freckles over the bridge of her nose and cheekbones -- nose just barely crooked, like it got broken years ago, in a fight with a werewolf that almost didn't go their way, and it set a little funny, and the response was a shrug, and, hey, chicks dig scars and shit, right?

"Sam," she says back, when Sam's just staring. Full mouth, pink and pretty, that tugs into a smirk. "Need to talk to you. Alone. Family stuff," she says, with an apologetic little moue at Jess.

In the corner of his eye he sees Jess look up at him, confused. "Jess," he says, "give us a minute," and the woman's smirk spreads into a smile.

*

"Almost three bucks a gallon?" Dean says. She shakes her head, leaning her ass on the rear passenger door. "Don't know how you do it out here, Sammy."

"Don't have a car," Sam says. He's going through the box of IDs. It's split in two: the girl staring professionally at the camera as a sheriff's deputy or forest ranger or state trooper under the names Grace Slick, Christine McVie, Chrissie Hynde. The other side of the box are the same fake titles with a set of fake male names but with pictures of his brother. His brother.

"Don't know how you do it," Dean repeats, and then a slim hand folds the box lid down, and Sam looks up, and the sun's behind her but he can still see that impossible, familiar face. "Hey. We still got like three hours to Jericho. You going to have a breakdown?"

"Are we pretending like this isn't weird?" Sam says, and she rolls her eyes, flops back against the door, and Sam stands up, stares at her even if she won't meet his eyes. This filling station in the mountains is basically abandoned but for the crusty clerk inside; just as well, for what Sam can feel bubbling up his throat. "Are you kidding? You just show up out of nowhere, and you're -- you're--"

"Pretty as a picture, huh?" she says, sweet with acid underneath, and Sam bites his lips between his teeth, hard, breathing in through his nose. She glances up at him, away. Mutters, "Were you always this tall?"

Her ears are pink. Pierced although she's not wearing jewelry beyond what pinged to Sam first, in the blurred confusion of shocking an intruder in his apartment less than twelve hours ago, as familiar -- the amulet he gave his brother; a silver ring, though on her thumb instead of his brother's finger. A black t-shirt and a purple flannel shirt and a leather jacket and jeans and boots. All familiar, except they're on a woman who's maybe 5'8, a gently curvy bottom-heavy hourglass, instead of...

"What happened," Sam says.

"I told you."

"No, you didn't," Sam says, and her chin drops down to her chest, a sigh heaving out. "A witch? You've got to give me more than that. How the hell do you go back and forth? Does Dad know? Is that why--?"

"Dad knows," she says. Neutral. The gas pump clicks and she pushes off the car, walking back to the trunk. Hips swinging. Sam tears his eyes away, watches her face as she crouches, pulls the nozzle out. "Happened -- shit, two years ago? Of course he knows."

Two years. When was the last time he heard from Dean? Sam opens his mouth, thinks better of it. Swallows.

She screws the gas cap back in place and stands back up and sets the nozzle back on its hook. "Stop staring," she says.

"Dean," Sam says, helpless. Her eyes close, tight. "Is that -- do you want me to call you something else? Grace, or --"

"Grace Slick is righteous," she says. She folds her arms under her breasts, turns around. Levels a look at Sam that he has no chance of reading. "So I'm gonna say some stuff now, and I don't want you to ask me about it again for at least twenty-four hours, because we got a job to do and this crap isn't important." Sam opens his mouth and she holds up a hand, and then holds out one finger. "First of all, I'm not a chick. So, get that through your head. But I recognize I got the T&A and the pretty face and the emergency tampons in the trunk, so -- I don't know what I am, really. But I'm Dean, okay? Your big -- sibling, no matter what, who can kick your ass to Kansas and back no matter what shape."

Sam had her on the floor of the apartment, gasping, her wrist slender and breakable under his hand. He swallows. "Got it."

"Good," she says. Another finger. "Two: I know you got a hundred questions about how this whole thing works, what happened, yadda yadda. We don't have time for that, man. Just telling you, I'm gonna be girl-shaped for the foreseeable, so for now -- Deanna's fine, if we're in front of people, or -- whatever, in the car too, I don't care. I'm me. Doesn't matter what you call me."

Deanna. She tucks a wavy lock of hair behind her ear. Presses her lips together and takes a deep breath, then looks away from Sam, back out at the highway. A third finger, briefly extended and then dropped, her hands sliding into the back pockets of her jeans. "Nobody knows," she says. Chin high, eyes on the road. "Not other hunters, or anyone. When -- it first happened, Dad and me, we... we tried everything. Dad killed the witch but that didn't stop it. So. We figured out to live with it. Kinda useful, actually. Sometimes. Even if I gotta keep two sets of clothes in the trunk, ha." She licks her lips. "Anyway. I thought about calling, but... what would I say, huh? Plus, not like I expected it to come up."

"You didn't think it'd come up," Sam says, finally.

Her eyes flick back to him. "Two years," she repeats. His teeth click shut. Her mouth curves, ironic.

Sam sits back down, the passenger side of the bench sinking familiarly under his weight. Two years and a two-part sibling, driving all over America, and he never knew. They hadn't talked but somehow he assumed he'd find out if something happened -- if either Dean or Dad were hurt bad, or if they'd gotten arrested, or if god forbid the worst happened -- he'd know, somehow. This isn't the worst but it seems impossible that it's just -- been happening, somewhere, and he was oblivious, going to school and studying and pretending like the nighttime world didn't exist, while Dean --

Deanna nods, her cheek sucked in on one side. "Anyway," she says, again. She fishes the keys out of her jacket pocket. "Couple more hours to Jericho. I got a state trooper ID that works. We've got to find out what happened there."

"Yeah," Sam says. Deanna walks around the car, folds herself into the front seat. The engine turns over. He's staring at the ground between his sneakers. Bright morning. He should be in class.

"Dude, get the lead out," Deanna says. Sam swivels on the seat, closes the passenger door.

She squints at him across the bench and says, "Put a tape in, would you?" He reaches down and finds the box. "No Jefferson Airplane," she says, and gives him a crooked smile. First real one he's had, since she broke in -- since he walked out of the rental house four years ago, and his brother had given him that terrible smirk and said see you when I see you, Sammy.

"How about Jefferson Starship?" Sam says, trying, and she snorts her way into a laugh. The car leaps forward.

[foxydivaxx]

Yugioh Pretty Little Liars Style Chapter 3

FLASHBACK

"Wait, let me get this straight. So Amber caught Ami with Theodore in the locker room, pants down and all?!" says Yuma. The others snorted with laughter whilst Yami nods. "That's what Amber said but then again, why would anyone even trust a word she says? Afterall she is a gossip." says Yami.

"Right." says Yusei with a nod. "Anyhow..." says Yami, flicking his hand in a dismissive manner. "That's their headache. Could care less what those bitches do with their damn lives. They can go contact some disease for all I care. Though they better not come around my end else I'll sue."

The others snorted with laughter at that statement. At that moment, some blonde chick in a blue dress storm into the hallway and stands in front of the boys, hands on hips. Yami glares at her. "Can we help you?" he says in a nonchalant attitude.

She rolled her eyes and says in an irritable manner, "I would like to speak with you in private." she says through gritted teeth. He rolled his eyes. "Fine." With that, they both walk away to an empty classroom.

Once inside, she begins to spill. Needless to say, Yami's eyes widened in shock. "You don't mean it?" She nods grimly. "Trust me. It's that bad." Yami sighed and then thinks for a bit. "It seems that we have to speed things up."

END OF FLASHBACK

Alexis Rhodes smiles sadly as she pats her belly. Why she even agreed to marry her current husband is beyond her.

Sure family business and stuff but still she could always enjoy a little thrill every once in a while. At that moment, her phone rings. Upon seeing the Caller Id, she smirks and picks it up and says, "Was wondering when you would call."

The caller on the other line had a deep baritone. "Ready for your next assignment?"

Yugi slips his hands into his pockets as he takes a walk along the streets. At a glance he appears innocent but those that know him know that that was far from the corrupted him and the others no doubt about that but there are others that were worse than his brother.

But then again what does one expect from them when their parents were either abusive, negligent and irresponsible or heck all of the above.

Every kid in Domino has a story to tell in regards to their families. Oh he has heard a lot of shit and it isn't pretty.

"Hey Yug." He stops in his tracks and gasps as soon as he comes in contact with a tall blonde dude with brown eyes. "Joe?!" The blonde smirks and walks over to him.

"Been a while huh Yug?" he says. Yugi who was completely out of words simply nods. He and Joey were childhood friends and back then they often got up to all sorts of mischief with Yami's encouragement.

"Still, you are back." Yugi says. Joey nods. "My parents recently got divorced so dad brought me back here with him.

"Oh...sorry about that."

"Heard about Yami. You ok bro?" Yugi shakes his head. "I will never be ok?" Yugi replies. Joey sighs. "Reminds me of what happened to Serenity back then." Years ago, his younger sister Serenity was killed in a car crash.

"Man life sucks." says Yugi. The blonde nods. "Say, lets go hang like ol' times?" For the first time in years, Yugi manages to smirk. "Oh yeah!"

Meanwhile Seto Kaiba walks into his room after a busy day out. "Hey Seto." The boy in question whips around and smirks as he comes face to face with Jaden who was lying down seductively on his bed.

"How have you been Jay?" Seto asks as he walks over to the bed and sits beside his lover.

Jaden crawls over to Seto and sits on his lap. "I need my sugar fix now," he says. Most people aren't aware of the secret affair Seto, Yami and Jaden had back then.

Seto chuckles. "Oh you will get that babe." He pulls the other closer to him and kisses him passionately.

Meanwhile Yusei heads into his room with a glass of orange juice in hand. Ever since he checked into rehab following the aftermath of Yami's death, he had been struggling to stay sober. If anything, they all had their individual demons to deal with.

He stops as soon as he sees a brown envelope. "Who left this there?" There isn't a name prompting Yusei to open the envelope and empty the contents onto the bed. What he finds is some medical report and a note from Y which says:

I know what you did last summer

-Y

Yusei goes through the medical report and gasps. "Da Fuck?!"

Elsewhere Yuya hums as he prepares for a nice shower. "God I feel so yucky right now." He soon gets in the shower and cleans himself up. The boy is so lost in his world that he does not notice anyone behind him.

He whips around and lets out a bloodcurling scream, blood splattering everywhere.

That same night, Marik Ishtar growls as he types away on his laptop. If he doesn't submit this report by tomorrow. He soon sees an email notifìcation and clicks on it. Upon seeing the contents, he gasps. "Holy Shit!"

[swagtastic-bougie-pompadour]

Taraka (the one behind @taraka-at-naranjauva ) speaking, I have an idea…

Cossie (who I’ll leave notes on in this) meeting Clive, talking for a bit on stars or something like that, and leaving via a teleport…only to suddenly teleport back in and hand Clive something that proves that Cossie knows he and Clavell are one and the same before teleporting away.

As for the notes:

//Thanks for the request! This one's pretty much short and sweet, and Cossie's fun to write for!

Surrounded by the bright lights of Mesagoza and Naranja-Uva itself, the Schoolyard isn’t any stargazer’s first pick of destinations. The shining stars within the city are numerous and luminous enough to drown out nearly all but the North Star and a smattering of other named stars. 

That fact wasn’t enough to stop Clive, finally on his last rounds before ditching the old disguise and heading home for the evening, from glancing up at the night sky, feeling out the name of one of the stars in the back of his mind. He knew that one. It was right there on the tip of his tongue. It must’ve been Theta… Saga…

“Hi there, Mr. Clive! If you’re looking at that bright one, it’s called Vega!”

Clive turned around, looking for the small child’s voice before finally finding them at the edge of the battlefield. Waving happily. He’s pretty sure the kid teleported themselves over there, from how their voice moved, but he isn’t too bothered by it. Stranger things have come to pass at this school. 

“Oh, Cossie! What brings you here so late?”

“I’m just going to meet with Uncle Ta before going to my room… what are you doing, Mr. Clive? Stargazing?”

“Something like that! They’re suuuuuuper clear where I’m from, so this is nothing, but… it’s still nice. You get me?”

“Yeah! The stars are really interesting. For example, the one I pointed out earlier, Vega, is only 25 light years from here!”

“Well, that doesn’t sound much like ‘only’ to me, but I guess it’s pretty different for you, yeah?”

“I still can’t teleport that far! I only mean it’s not too far for space.” 

Rather than laughing at the presumption, though, Cossie only smiles kindly. If only my students were all like them, Clive mused to himself. Alas, he had to appreciate sweet students who didn’t threaten to beat him up or bite his hair off where he could. 

“Right… my bad! After all, you’re still human. A super cool human! With really cool space facts! You’ve gotta tell me some more someday, okay?”

“Okay, Mr. Clive…”

Cossie stifles a small yawn, before whispering “sleepy…” to themselves. 

“I think… I’m gonna go find Uncle Ta and go to bed, okay? It was nice seeing you though, Mr. Clive!”

“Alright! Stay safe, Cossie. Don’t fall in a pit or anything!”

“Huh?”

“Long story.”

“Okay…”

Clive watched the young student wander off happily into the school. At least he could keep his cover with somebody… right?

“Oh! By the way! Mr. Clive!”

The young Pokéhuman reappeared in front of the disguised director, holding out a card. Clavell’s Employee ID. 

“You dropped this! Have a nice night, Mr. Clavell!”

[slashhinginghasher]

Fate, Or Just Bad Luck

@thesightstoshowyou pspspspspsps

Serial killer meets final girl. They do not hit it off.

Lok Smith belongs to Sights, Ki Dufresne belongs to me

~

"Okay there is no way you didn't pregame before this."

"I told you I suck at pool!"

"I didn't think you meant this badly, Ki! Have you had an MRI lately? Any cranial trauma in your past?"

"Yeah, I used to huff lead paint as a baby."

Ki Dufresne rolled her eyes and attempted to line up a shot. The stick glanced off the cue ball, sending it wobbling a scant half inch to the left. So far, she hadn't even managed to get the cue ball to make contact with any of the other pool balls, let alone move one enough to progress the game. Her friends had stopped trying to coach her and were instead watching her with something akin to awe.

"Cut her some slack, guys," Derrick said. "Shaft and balls aren't exactly Ki's thing."

"Alright, slut, why don't you show everyone how well you handle a long hard pole?"

Ki shoved the pool cue into his hands and swatted him on the ass, right over the pride flag embroidered on his back pocket. Their close friends laughed a made a few more innuendos while Derrick ran his hands suggestively along the stick. Some of the others looked a little nervous. The group tonight was large, a "friends and friends of friends" type deal that encompassed two pool tables and several of the neighboring booths at the bar. That meant there were an unprecedented (for her) number of heterosexual people around, several of whom were uncertain if they could laugh at the gay jokes without being homophobic.

They absolutely could laugh, but the quiet desperation as they ran their mental Ally Status calculus was also hilarious, so Ki liked to exacerbate it when she could.

Ki took a swig of her drink. One of the friends of friends, a girl named Laney, had been talking animatedly with a guy at the bar for the past five minutes, and was now heading back to the group with the guy in tow.

Straight towards Ki. Looking very excited.

Oh no.

Did Laney know Ki was gay? Ki couldn't remember which members of the extended group knew about her sexual orientation, and Derrick was too busy annihilating his opponent at pool to start trading gay slurs with her. The guy was sauntering, hands in his pockets, which meant he was probably insufferable. Oh, her night was going to be so ruined if she had to talk to him. She turned away, trying to pretend she hadn't noticed their approach, but Laney was on a mission and that mission was making Ki interact with some random asshole.

"Lok, this is my friend Ki," Laney introduced, practically bouncing with excitement. "Ki, this is Lok."

"Bullshit," Ki said.

The guy - Lok - laughed. He was tall. His hair was very red and he had a lot of freckles. He was also smirking. Ki hated guys who smirked.

"I promise you, it's not bullshit," he replied, even though Ki hadn't really been addressing him. "I can even show you my ID if you want."

"I don't."

Completely oblivious to Ki's animosity, or completely uncaring, Laney shoved her glass into Ki's free hand.

"Can you watch my drink? I have to use the bathroom. Thanks!" Laney darted off without waiting for a response, leaving Ki with the undivided attention of a smirking redhead and no free hands with which to punch him in the dick if need be. Lok, for his part, didn't seem too put out by the sudden exit of the girl he'd been chatting up.

"So."

She could run off to the bathroom too, but she still had half of her own drink left, and asking someone to look after two drinks for you seemed like kind of a dick move. Annoyed as she was, she was not about to leave any girl's drink unattended in the presence of a strange man.

"Lok and Ki, huh?"

She could chug hers down, but the last time she tried to chug anything it went up her nose and almost killed her.

"Must be fate."

Lord have mercy. Maybe she should down her drink. And Laney's, too. Just to survive this conversation.

"I bet we'd fit together great," Lok stage-whispered, leaning in and winking.

"Ew," Ki said. "Aren't you in the pre-stages of hooking up with Laney?"

Lok was not deterred.

"I see no need to rule anything out this early in the evening."

"Ew." Ki wrinkled her nose in disgust.

Lok was still not deterred.

"Aw, what's wrong, not looking for a happy ending tonight?"

The phrasing alone almost made her gag.

"You are not my type."

"What is your type?" He cocked his head like a puppy. Ki did not find it endearing.

"Your sister."

"Alas," Lok sighed, "I don't have a sister. But I have been told I look stunning in a dress."

Ki was starting to think a bullet to the head wouldn't be a deterrent for him.

"Look, in the interest of saving us both time, I'm going to summarize the rest of this conversation." Ki took a fortifying swig of her drink. "I tell you straight up I'm a lesbian. You ask if I've ever fucked a man. I say no. You say how could I possibly know I don't like dick if I haven't tried it. I say have you ever tried dick. You get mildly affronted and insist that of course you haven't and I say well and give you a meaningful look. You rally and say that well, I haven't tried your dick and I-"

"-throw a drink in my face?" Lok cut in, eyes sparkling.

She was holding both glasses pretty tightly, almost like a weapon.

"I wouldn't do that. Leaves too much mess for the bartenders to clean up."

"That's very considerate of you."

"Thank you. So did I cover everything?"

"Well, you did leave me hanging a bit at the end," he said, tapping a finger to his lip. "What happens if not an impromptu alcohol bath?"

"I just glare and tell you to fuck off since you seem to need it spelled out for you."

Lok chuckled and definitively did not fuck off.

"For the record," he said, leaning in again, "I have tried dick, and quite enjoyed it, too."

"Oh." That was a bit unexpected. "Congratulations."

Ki was spared from any of his additional attempts at charm by Laney's return.

"Laney!" she shouted. "Come get your boy, I don't want him."

Ki returned the other girl's drink and went off to harass Derrick, who was gyrating against his pool cue like it was a stripper pole in what was presumably a victory dance.

Behind her, Lok was no longer smiling.