#maybe would have to probe this more this is a first thoughts kinda answer

[say-al0e]

Hypothetical

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Eddie asks a lot of hypothetical questions, just to hear your answer. The answer to this question was more real than you wanted to admit. Warnings: Tiny bit of self-doubt, idiots to lovers. Pairing: Eddie x fem!Reader (think it could be read as GN but just to be safe) Word Count: 2.7k

“Would you fuck my clone?”

The question, asked as casually as if he were inquiring about the weather - though, to his defense, he’d asked weirder - rose above the sound of chainsaws emanating from the television and earned a confused frown as you spared him a sideways glance.

Eddie’s attention remained mostly on Leatherface, chasing unsuspecting victims, but you caught his curious glance as you laughed. Those were the first words spoken in over an hour, certainly a record for your verbose best friend, and you couldn’t help but ask, “What the fuck, Eddie?”

“What?” From his position at the end of the couch, feet propped on the coffee table and head lolled onto the cushions, he shrugged. “It’s a simple question. Would you fuck my clone?”

A beat of silence passed, in which you realized this was one of those moments where Eddie wouldn’t let the question go until he was given a satisfying answer, and you sighed. “I don’t think that’s the question, Eds,” you countered. “Isn’t it usually, ‘would you fuck your own clone’?”

With a dismissive wave of his hand and a scoff, Eddie finally sat up and turned his full attention to you, screaming teenagers and chainsaws forgotten now that he had something better to capture his attention. “That one’s boring,” he reasoned. “We know all the arguments. This is a different question, new arguments.”

“I think we’re fine without arguing,” you teased, reaching for the nearly half-empty bowl of popcorn. “Just watch the movie, Eddie.”

From the corner of your eye, you watched as a look you couldn’t quite recognize flickered across Eddie’s face. However, just as quickly as it appeared, it was covered with a raised brow and a teasing grin. “We’ve seen it a hundred times already. Anyway, what I’m getting from this is, you would fuck my clone. Interesting.”

Eddie did little to hide his amusement as you rolled your eyes and tossed a piece of popcorn at him. “I didn’t say that,” you argued, despite yourself - despite knowing that you were walking into a conversation you weren’t yet sure you wanted any part of.

A hum, unconvinced, met your ears as he reached for the bowl and plucked it from your hands. “Okay,” he prompted, ignoring your outraged huff. “So, tell me. Would you?”

There were a handful of ways you could respond to his probing. The first, shut down his question with a point blank refusal, phrased as a light-hearted joke that did little damage to his ego and even less to your already fragile nerves. The second, play into his game and debate the pros and cons of sleeping with his clone, the ethical ramifications, the conversation he clearly wanted. Or, the third, admit to him a fact that you’d concealed since the summer of 1984.

Any way you could have him, real Eddie or clone, you would take it.

That was, solidly, not in the lead. So, you opted for the second approach.

“Jeez, Eds,” you sighed, stealing popcorn from the bowl now resting on his lap. “I don’t know. Maybe,” you conceded. “Depends, I guess. Is he, like, total you or some weird, kinda fucked up clone? Like, is he totally evil or incapable of coherent thought or, I don’t, off somehow?” As an afterthought, you joked, “More so than the real you, anyway.”

“Rude.” There was no bite in the declaration, only a fond amusement that made your chest ache, but you did your best to ignore it as he hummed. “Clone’s a totally normal, complete carbon copy. Everything about him is exactly the same, down to the last hair.”

“So, no aspirations to rule the world or become, like, the next Leatherface?”

Eddie grinned. “That’s my backup plan, you know, if music doesn’t work. So, guess it’d be his, too,” he admitted, only breaking into laughter when you grabbed a pillow and smacked him with it. “Seriously,” he relented, “nothing weird. Just another me. Everything you know and love, times two.”

With a sigh, you lifted your legs onto the couch and hugged your knees to your chest. “Then… I don’t know,” you admitted, voice barely audible over the screams still echoing from the television. “Maybe?”

“It’s a yes or no question, babe,” he reminded you, brows furrowed and eyes narrowed as he studied you. “Shouldn’t be this hard.”

That look, the one that you had difficulty placing, returned and despite your uncertainty as to what it was, you were certain that you didn’t like it very much. Doubt, or maybe hurt, were the closest emotions you could identify though neither made much sense to you in the moment.

Still, rather than ask, you rolled your eyes. “What’s the point of this conversation?”

There was none, it was just for fun - a debate, like the thousands of others you’d had over the course of your friendship - and Eddie said a much as he shrugged. “Isn’t one,” he declared, offering you the last handful of popcorn. “I just want to know if you’d fuck my clone.”

When you refused, he returned the bowl back to the coffee table before reaching for your ankle. With a gentle tug, he encouraged you to rest your feet on his lap as his fingers began to tap a beat that only existed inside his head against your skin. “Why does it matter?”

Eddie shrugged once more, though this time, he glanced at the television rather than you as he answered. “Because I asked and you always answer.”

“I do,” you relented, sighing as you also spared the screen a glance. “Well, what’s the right answer, then? There has to be one.”

This time, he shook his head as the tapping of his fingers grew a touch faster. “Right answer’s the true one.”

For a moment, you simply studied Eddie. His side profile, bathed in the warm glow of the television, was the picture of concentration as he watched a scene you’d seen a thousand times before. Only, you knew him well enough to see the telltale signs that he was in no way paying as close of attention as he should’ve been.

The slightest tick in his jaw, the quick bite of the inside of his cheek, the delayed blinking; all signs that he was waiting more intently for your answer than he wanted you to believe.

Rejection - no matter how hypothetical - never seemed possible when it came to Eddie. So, you sighed and conceded, “Okay, fine. Sure, I’d fuck your clone.”

Eddie hummed, seemingly unsurprised and feigning nonchalance as he nodded as if the answer confirmed something he already suspected. And there were a thousand ways in which you expected him to respond; none of which could’ve compared to him declaring, “So, you’d fuck my clone but not me.”

Again, rejection was not an option. However, you had no intention of admitting to him that you’d wanted him for years. There was no world in which you could see yourself admitting to him that you thought he was beautiful - with his doe eyes and playful grin. Telling him how you felt would likely end in an awkward silence at best and a ruined friendship at worst.

So, you opted for a careful denial. “What? I didn’t say that.”

“But you’re not saying anything to the contrary,” he countered, turning his head to spare you a cursory glance. There was something there, beneath the amused glimmer in his eyes, that unnerved you - something far more serious than you were expecting - but as quickly as it appeared, it was gone.

When you shot him an unimpressed glance, cutting your eyes at him before returning your attention to the television, he shrugged, teasing grin never faltering. “I never said that. I answered a hypothetical and you’re reading into it.”

Eddie met your perhaps too sharp denial with a raised brow as he gave up the guise of watching the movie. “So, am I wrong?”

“Would you stop putting words into my mouth?” You huffed as you reached for the bowl of popcorn, desperate for something to distract yourself from making a confession you knew you would regret. “I never said that. All I said was that I’d fuck your clone, I answered the question.”

“Okay, fine. You never said you wouldn’t fuck me but it’s never happened. Never even sort of, almost, maybe happened,” he reminded you - as if you needed it. “So, you would fuck my clone but not me. Why?”

“Because we’re friends, Eddie,” you shot back, resisting the urge to roll your eyes as you popped a piece of popcorn into your mouth. “I’ve known you since I was ten.” 

The excuse sounded weak in your own ears, but it was all you could muster without breaking down and confessing that you would, in fact, sleep with him. If only he’d ask. If only it wouldn’t destroy your friendship. If only it was that simple.

Still, Eddie was relentless. “But my clone would have all my memories, totally the same person,” he reminded you. “He’d be your friend, just like me. But you’d fuck him. So, why not me?”

“This is stupid,” you huffed. “Why do you care?” He’d never pushed so hard, not in pursuit of a hypothetical question meant to pass the time, and you were genuinely curious why he seemed so interested in your answer, or your lack thereof.

“I’m a naturally curious person,” he argued, shrugging as he squeezed your ankle. “It’s just a stupid hypothetical. C’mon, why would you hypothetically fuck my clone but not me?”

There was little doubt in your mind that he would continue pushing until he got the answer he was looking for, especially as it seemed that he’d already made up his mind that he was right, so you shifted yourself in a huff. With your legs now hugged to your chest, eyes on the television to avoid meeting his gaze as you admitted in a snap, “God, okay. I’d fuck your clone because it’s the closest I’d get to being with you without actually destroying our entire relationship. Happy with that answer?”

“What?” Eddie sounded genuinely surprised and you could feel the warmth of his gaze burning into your skin as you purposely kept your gaze on the television.

“If your clone is you, all your memories, your mannerisms, your looks, I’d fuck your clone because then I’d get to see what it’s like to be with you,” you admitted, words escaping despite every fiber of your being telling you to be quiet. “I’d get everything without the risk of losing you when I fuck it all up.”

Eddie shifted closer then, careful to keep a few inches of space between you but no longer nestled into the opposite edge of the couch as he tipped his head to get a better glimpse of your face. “What do you mean, when you fuck it up?”

Frustrated tears - at admitting a secret you swore would follow you to the grave, at allowing him to get under your skin when he was simply asking an innocent question, at allowing yourself to get so worked up over something so simple - stung at the backs of your eyes as you huffed. “I’m… you know me, Eddie. I don’t,” you sighed, cutting yourself off, before taking a deep breath. “I’m prickly. I don’t do well with romance. I freak out and run,” you reminded him. “Even if you felt the same, if we worked out enough to not have our friendship go down in flames, there’s still a chance I’d fuck it up and I don’t want to do that. I don’t want to run from you.”

“Hey.” Eddie shifted even closer, close enough for you to feel the warmth of his body, and sighed when you refused to glance at him. Regardless, he exclaimed, “That’s why we’d be different.”

“What?” Of all the things you expected him to say, that was the last. With furrowed brows and tears still lining your lashes, you tipped your head to glance at him. “Why?”

“Because,” he began, meeting your eyes for the first time in what felt like hours, “when you try to run, I know what you’re doing. When you get all weird or try to push me away, I know it’s not really you wanting me to go. I know you. I get you, just like you get me.”

“Eddie.”

Of all the ways you’d expected him to react, of all the ways you expected him to acknowledge your feelings for him, returning them was not on the list. For years, you’d convinced yourself that there was no way he would return your feelings, there was no way you would ever be able to acknowledge those feelings without losing your best friend, and there was still a deep-rooted fear that, despite his seeming certainty that his understanding would make a difference, any attempt at a relationship would only end in heartbreak.

That didn’t seem to matter to him as he pressed on. “I’m serious. It’s us,” he continued, this time reaching out to press a hand to your knee. “It’s always been us, always will be us. There’s nothing you can do to get rid of me. Not now.”

“You can’t know that,” you sighed, though it was nowhere near as confident as you hoped it would be. “We can’t see the future.”

“We can’t,” he agreed. “Not yet, anyway, but the nineties seem promising.” When you rolled your eyes, barely suppressing a smile, he laughed. “But that’s the fun part. We do our best to make our own future. It’s always going to be together, might as well come clean and really be together instead of making ourselves miserable pretending.” Before you could respond, offer another half-hearted refusal, he pressed on. “What do we have to lose?”

“Everything.”

Eddie shook his head, completely unconvinced that anything bad would come of allowing yourselves to try. “I don’t believe that. Whatever happens, we’ll figure it out. We always do.”

“How can you be so certain?” You wished you had an ounce of Eddie’s certainty, his true belief that the pair of you could make it, but you were skeptical. Neither of you had much luck in life, neither of you had much outside of one another, and losing him would be far too great.

However, you were tired of pretending that a shared future was not what you wanted. 

The possibility that your future could go up in flames, that you could destroy the best friendship you’d ever had, worried you. It kept you awake at night. But now knowing that Eddie felt the same, that he wanted the same future you did, there was no way you could turn him down.

For all your fear, for all your hesitance, saying no was not an option.

“Because we’ve been in love for years and nothing bad has happened yet.” He said it as if it was the most obvious answer he could give, as if it made all the sense in the world, and if you really stopped to think about it, it did.

“Can you promise me something?”

Eddie shifted ever closer, nodding easily as you reached for his hand. “Anything.”

“Can you promise me that no matter what happens, we’ll always be friends? Even if we don’t work out, if something happens, promise me that we’ll still be there for each other.”

“I promise. Nothing hypothetical about that,” he agreed, corner of his mouth lifting when you offered a soft smile.

The moment stretched around you, nothing existed outside of the pair of you as Eddie tugged you into his side. It was easy, natural, and you melted into his touch despite the fear lingering in the back of your mind.

There was a brief worry that this could be a mistake. That allowing yourselves to intertwine your futures so thoroughly would only end in heartbreak, but he was right. For as long as you could remember, it had been you and Eddie. There was nothing that had managed to wedge you apart yet. And pretending had no guarantee of working in the long term.

So, you decided to dive in to the deep end and allow yourself to truly fall. There was no situation, real or hypothetical, in which he would allow you to hit the ground.

No matter what, you knew that he would be there to catch you. 

________________________________________________________

Author's Note: I spent my entire day in meetings. All the meetings. So many meetings. I also have a dentist appointment on Wednesday and I am Terrified. So have this.

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[gotham-daydreams]

i had a really random idea that activated a neuron in my head and wanted to share here if that's ok— neglected!reader and friend!reader crossover. increased angst potentials, increased relationship struggles.

idk if it's just me, but the cold knowledge and sudden realization that your family was only ever interacting with you to use you as a means of getting close to their original target (who i will be assuming is a friend of yours)? you should be feeling glad that they're finally, *finally* interacting with you, but it just makes you feel more sick. they talk to you, but never want to talk about *you,* if that makes sense, always their target. half-hearted attempts to try and be more discreet, but you can tell they really just want to probe out info about your friend from you. perhaps this even cements your belief that "oh. they're never going to care for me the way i used to care for them."?? im sick i will explode and become atoms for this hypothetical reader's sake. leaving them, and the family realization that in their own selfish goals, they lost something more valuable. only makes sense for them to get it back.

but perhaps it can also be them originally them trying to again, use you as a bridge between said target, only to become more obsessed with you somewhere down the line of continuous interactions. idk lots of thoughts here i am happy big and mentally normal about these giant group of costumed losers !!

I am in love with this idea... especially because you can do it both ways (with the reader either being a part of the fam, or just a 'friend' of one of the Batfam members that they kinda forgot about until now)!

I'll go into Acquaintance! Reader later, so for now I'll focus more on this other neglected sib reader :]

Can you imagine how absolutely heartbreaking finding out that they're just talking with you to get something out of you, at first? Like, okay, maybe reader is suspicious at first, of course, because why the hell is the family starting to acknowledge their existence now? Was it something they did? Something that caught the family's attention? Etc., etc., but the point is that maybe with a little effort and too little time, they begin to have a little hope. They began to think that the family actually cares about them now.

Like yeah, sure, they kind of dismiss their questions when the reader tries to bring up the changes and why things couldn't be like this before, and have an odd habit of giving short answers and moving onto other topics concerning their friend when the reader, again, tries to press even a little bit more for answers or responses, but that's just how it is, right?

It's nothing personal... the reader knows that, and even if it hurts sometimes, it's nothing to worry about, right? Besides, they wanted this... didn't they? They wanted to be noticed, to finally have the family's attention, to have something and they're finally getting that! They should be happy, grateful even... and they are! But... is it so selfish to want more? To want the family and some of their siblings to even be a little interested in the things they do? Instead of just asking about their friend all the time?

Maybe the reader even gets a little jealous, envious, even, as this goes on but I can see them being content with little. Ultimately a little scared to ruin a good thing, and to ruin this for themselves... even if it definitely doesn't feel as good as they had hoped it would be oh so long ago.

... And then, they figure out the truth. Either from overhearing some members of the family talking about it, other friend of theirs points it out/puts that idea into their head, or they just... notice it. Hell, all three of those things could happen - with the reader knowing on some subconscious level that things aren't as they seem and that the family is definitely trying to get something out of them (a thought they had at first, that didn't fully go away), and another friend of theirs (that the fam isn't going crazy over) sort of points out that it looks like the batfam is just using them to get to whoever (and maybe the reader dismisses it at first, but that moment only further plants that idea into their head), and the reader keeps noticing all of these little things from that moment and onward... only for everything to come crumbling down once they finally overhear that conversation.

Once they hear some of the members discussing what they should ask the reader, how they should go about it, and hell - maybe for the irony of it all, maybe even joking about the reader finding out about their little 'ploy'. Even going so far as to laugh and say how the reader will never find out because they're too stupid, too desperate to even really entertain the idea to its fullest. How even if they do think so... well, they can just string poor little reader along and distinguish the idea before it even becomes a problem. How they could use that to just further rope the reader in, and make them feel guilty until they forget all about the very idea of the family just using them... further securing themselves to be one of - if not the only - closest people to the reader, and therefore, much closer to their fixation.

It's... more than just heartbreaking for the reader, but not quite world shattering either. It's some odd in between feeling that hurts all the same. They knew, sure, and they always had the suspicion- but it fucking hurts.

Somehow, knowing hurts more in that moment - just the reader knowing and having their suspicions confirmed hurts worse than anything they've ever felt. It doesn't quite feel like betrayal, or maybe it does - they aren't sure, but at the same time that description doesn't feel quite right. Though that's because they feel partially at fault. Like they did this to themselves, and they do feel guilty, but for only putting themself through this.

They should've known better. They should've listened to their gut. They should've never let this happen- they are at fault as much as the family is...

But can they fully blame themself? They got a glimpse of what it was like to be part of the family. A glimpse into the life they always wanted... could they really blame themself for taking that chance when they saw it? For trying to seize that opportunity even if it was never really there? Could they blame themselves for trying to look past all the signs, because they too wanted something out of it? Because they just wanted to be part of the family that badly, even if it was all a lie?

It hurts, and the reader leaves quietly. They don't burst into the room and confront everyone - no, they just walk away. Too consumed in their own grief and feelings to do much else besides that. I imagine that they don't even make it to their room, and hell, maybe one of the other Batfam members find them, but just looking at them makes the reader cry harder.

If they literally run away from the person, or not, is really up to interpretation at the moment, but either way they manage to find some alone time to themselves, and just... let it all out. The reader, in that moment, allows themself to grieve over the lose of a family they never had, and after all is said and done, I can imagine that they try to distance themselves- but are smart in how they do so.

The reader tries to get the family closer to their friend, while also limiting the amount of the the reader is actually around both the friend and the family. Basically just trying to put everyone in a position where they don't need a middleman - where the reader doesn't have to be involved anymore, and basically just... giving the reader an opportunity to truly distance themself from the family.

Sure, the reader might still try to hang out with the family's current fixation, but I can see them be willing to sacrifice time with that person just to further get away. It hurts to do it, and they don't want to, but they figure that, with enough time, once the family chills the fuck out, they'll hopefully be able to sort of go back to how things were. If not? Then... well, they'll just have to learn how to live with that, and they hope that their friend can forgive them.

Don't get me wrong, I could totally see the reader trying to find ways to get their friend out of the position, but the batfam is one tricky foe.. so they settle for what they can, but maybe they're still trying to do what they can. (Or maybe they think that this is the best course of action since... well, maybe they overheard some other talks afterwards? Who knows)

It could also be that, through the reader's attempt to leave, and them trying to eliminate themself from the equation entirely could be a huge turning point for the Batfam in terms of them turning yandere (aka, if they weren't yan before, they definitely are now. and those that are, are even worse than before). A real "you don't know what you had until it's gone" kinda deal, and it's gotta be hilarious to see the fam just scramble for something, and to kind of 'catch' the reader until they're truly gone... which, to add to the humor- the reader is probably already trying to move out of Gotham by that time LMAO

[clownery-and-fuckery]

Take it... I was feeling sappy :")

"Do you believe in soulmates?"

Three tired cadets groaned at the question asked into the dark room. They should be sleeping, not listening to silly questions whispered into their safe space.

"Go to sleep." Is the immediate response from the second youngest, who's scowl is thankfully hidden. The first voice pipes up again with a whine.

"M'not tired yet! Please, just answer this one question and I'll sleep!"

"You said that five questions ago, Wrecker."

The oldest sighed. "Answer the question, guys. Wrecker promises to sleep after, don't you?"

"I do!" Wrecker insisted with a muffled laugh that decidedly informs them of his fib. "Promise! Please?"

The second youngest groaned again. "Fine." He grumbled, turning over to face the room. "I don't. Goodnight."

"D'aw, why not?" Wrecker probed. "Everyone's gotta have someone out there!"

"I'm with Wrecker," Hunter, the oldest, admitted into the quiet before Crosshair could snap. "It's a kinda nice thought. To be destined to have someone to call yours."

"It's stupid." Crosshair grumbled. A fourth voice spoke up, soft with sleep as he was pulled from slumber.

"I am in agreement with Crosshair," The youngest slurred, rubbing his eyes. "That would imply there is an even and definite number of people in the galaxy, which there is not."

"You don't have to be born at the same time!" Wrecker protested. "Maybe they're older. Or younger!"

"That does not erase the fact that it is illogical." Tech huffs. "We are not pairs meant to be joined. We are individuals with our own personal definition. To tether us to another would..." He trailed off for a moment. "It is not logical."

Hunter sighed, and tapped Wrecker's bunk. "There's your answer, big guy. Now sleep, all of you. We're up early."

"We're always up early, Hunter." Crosshair grouched. "We know."

The four boys settled for sleep, and just as he felt himself fall under, Hunter heard the barely audible whisper from Wrecker to Tech.

"Wrecker?"

"Hmm?"

"...despite the lack of any tangible means of your theory, and while I do not believe it for a second. I–" A breath of hesitation. "I enjoy the thought of it."

Hunter fell asleep with a smile.

–––

Years later, when they were older, tired but happier than they had ever been. They were on the Marauder, tired but unable to sleep.

Wrecker brightened, after so long of not seeing his siblings, when he could finally turn to face the ship. Face the bunks that had been empty for so long.

He itched to speak. To reconnect, to catch up with his siblings he had missed so fiercely, yet he hesitated. They must be tired, they must be utterly shattered from the last few days, it would be selfish of him to—

"Wrecker?"

—to see out his siblings who were clearly still awake? The brawler jumped. "What's up, Techie?" Wrecker's response was eager, shifting closer to catch the shadow of his youngest brother as he moved slowly.

There was a pause, a pained breath as Tech readjused on his bunk. Wrecker heard Hunter and Crosshair shifting up in unison to help him. "Do you remember when we were small?" Tech started softly, voice tight with the agony of effort.

Wrecker hummed, listening intently for any more signs of discomfort. "When you had asked us about our stance on the existence of soulmates?"

There was a long pause. "Sure I do," Wrecker said, half truthful. "Why?"

"I was giving it some thought." Tech admitted with a sense of sheepishness. "While I was undergoing... extraneous experimentation."

Wrecker couldn't see it, but he could feel the anger that coursed through the room at the mention. "And I've found–" Tech paused again, but this time, Wrecker could pinpoint a small amount of nervousness in Tech's confession.

"–I've found I think I do believe."

Wrecker huffed a laugh. "S'been a long time since I've thought about that," He admitted. "I kinda stopped believing it."

"I do not believe it in a romantic sense." Tech continued. "Not- entirely."

Wrecker thought of Phee, of the private moment he was not meant to see between the two, and kept his mouth shut. "Mhmm." He said slowly.

"Although- the theory behind a 'soulmate' is an unbreakable connection- one that allows the individuals to meet and find each other regardless of the situation."

Wrecker heard Hunter hum in agreement, and Crosshair's quiet, "Get on with it, what's the point?" As he listened intently.

Tech's voice was quiet, but the affection was undeniable. "I believe that, in a sense, that is how I would describe us. The six of us, against all odds, managed to find each other again."

The room went silent, as if Tech had stolen the air from the room.

"If there was ever a chance of other universes," Tech waved a hand. "If such a concept exists, I would very much hope we are together in all of them."

Wrecker swore he heard a sniff. "We-" He hesitated, tears filling his own eyes. "–I'd say we are, Techie. Like any force could drive us apart."

Tech smiled at him through the dark. "I'm glad to know that." He said softly. "It is a nice theory.. one I hope holds weight."

Wrecker slipped off the bunk, joining his brother before gently, oh so softly, hugged him. Leaned back against the wall just like they used to, where the scariest thing to exist was the thunderstorms on Kamino.

There was no more Kamino, there was no more simple fears that were easily chased away.

They were still there, though. That was enough.

In his arms, Wrecker held a piece of his whole galaxy to his chest, sniffling as the rest of his purpose floated into orbit, easing into the single bunk.

Echo had grumbled a complaint of space as he finally was risen to join them. Omega never minded their squished cuddle piles, opting to hold Crosshair around the chest as she slept.

Hunter, ever the eldest, was near enough to all of them, just within reach. Wrecker smiled softly as he felt Tech drifting back off in his arms.

Yes, maybe soulmates did exist. In any form but the traditional, sure, but when had they ever been conventional?

[hmshermitcraft]

for the theme (context, I hc Skizz as a robot, but with, like, some angel DNA spliced in to sort of offset Impulse's devilishness /pos, like- his mischief? I think that's the word I'm looking for idk):

Skizz has noticed something off about Mumbo lately...he's always been kinda awkward, and that's OK! Interacting with other beings can be kinda hard sometimes, Skizz understands that! But something happened between Last Life and Secret Life...Mumbo seems to have a more elevated heart rate and he gets flushed as if he has a fever (usally only around Skizz, but he hasn't put those puzzle pieces together yet)...Skizz thought maybe it just had something to do with being back on the life series after skipping a couple seasons, but Mumbo was still like that even after Skizz joined hermitcraft...he was kinda worried for his friend, maybe he had developed a serious heart condition or something?? He should let Dippledop or G-Sharp know...just in case it was something serious, but...Skizz couldn't help but feel something in the back of his mind telling him that Mumbo was keeping secrets...

(back to spread my MumSkizz propaganda /silly)

Skizz had to work hard to understand humans. A surprising amount of work goes into recognising emotions! There's so many micro-expressions he didn't even notice when he first started.

As a consequence, though, he can tell when people are lying to him. It's harder with new people, since the databank of memories to reference from is smaller. But Mumbo... He can tell. Perhaps because he committed way too many memories of Mumbo to his storage but that's besides the point!

No amount of probing seems to get an answer, though. Usually he'd let it lie, but this seems like something important. What if it's a serious condition? Skizz would never forgive himself if he didn't say something!

So why is Grian laughing at him as he tries to explain it? This isn't very helpful!

[theexit392]

They knew. They knew...

Potty training works. I'm potty trained. Probably completed that phase around 3. By then I knew poop went in the potty and I was able to demonstrate that skill to great praise from my parents.

Also me at 3.

Pooping in my pants and hiding the evidence.

That was the next phase of development. Getting more adept at hiding the evidence. Life is nothing but practice. You do any one thing enough, chances are you'll get better at it. When you're first getting started though, whether you realize it or not....you suck. And if you have the life experience of a 3 year old, you probably really really suck. So, in retrospect, those first few years of having an alternate universe that the potty trained me did not exist in, I was likely not as good as I thought I was at hiding the evidence.

If i remember correctly, I'd just keep stashing the same pair of dirty underwear in the bottom of my hamper thinking Mom would never get to the bottom. I remember them too. Little red briefs. Big boy pants! Ha! Big turd pants was more like it. Every once in a while though. Those things would end up clean and folded in my dresser. I never got in trouble for messed up underpants so I thought she must not have noticed the stains. Young me turds were so well put together though there wasn't a grand crust of residue, even after several uses. I would describe the aftermath as "a shadow of a turd"

unrelated side note: Boy do I miss young innards! My young innards made really good, large, firm poops. I loved those. After 40 some years of working tirelessly day in, day out, they just...don't...work...the same. If you're over 40 then you know what I'm talking about....anyway.

Fast forward a few years. I'm 6 or 7 and find myself in a chair face to face with a psychologist. As I was at 6, I am today. Always willing to sit around and shoot the shit. I was a happy kid. Always bright and outgoing. So while the Doc was prowling around in my brain looking for some darkness, I doubt he could find much. I'm sure he found me open, honest, witty, and for lack of a better term: normal. Then at the end of our conversation he asked. Are you sure there isn't anything else you want to talk about? "No" i said.

"You're sure there is nothing else bothering you?" he probed again.

"No" I said again brightly and definitively.

Any shrink worth the framed diploma hung on his wood paneled office wall could see straight through my happy-go-lucky facade in that moment.

Panic.

Ooooohhh I knew what he's getting at. Shit! Now I know why I'm really here!!! Gaaaaaahhh! I know why my mother scheduled this little, till now innocuous chat! F***! (even my 6 year old head knew that was a bad word)

While my spectacled cherub face smiled sheepishly, my head was in full blown short circuit mode. Manically coming to grips with the notion that my little extra curricular activities may very well have been found out.

He's pooping his pants on purpose. What is wrong with my son?

There must be some reason he's acting out like this? Something he's hiding?

No ma, all I'm hiding is dirty underwear. And believe you me...I'm about to get a lot f****** better at hiding it.

What is kinda nuts to me is that no one ever asked me point blank about it, at any time in my life! Not even the psychologists. Of which there were many up through my teen years. Some would ask the same question "Is there anything else you want to talk about?" when they would arrive at the conclusion of the session with no indication that the pants pooping subject was going to come up in natural (if you can call probing natural) conversation.

My mom would make a comment about the condition about my underpants from time to time but she never directly addressed the issue either. Maybe she didn't want to know the answer? Or maybe she eventually came to understand that her son was a happy kid that enjoyed his life. Loved his music and cars and guitars. Loved his parents and his sister. Loved his friends.

It just so happens he also loved pooping his pants.

Privately.

As I got more skilled at hiding the evidence, handwashing and drying pre-bottom-of-the-hamper toss. I'm sure they all thought maybe I'd outgrown it. That's what kids do. They outgrow their mischief.

Nope. I'm now really really good at doing laundry.

Hope you enjoyed this time in the wayback machine! Off to do some handwashing....

[piipaw]

Companion asks!

General: 4 & 7

Story: 6 & 15

Romance: 7 & 9

What sort of general actions raise or lower their approval?

I answered this previously so a copy+paste: Gum would be pretty neutral. He'd approve of some kind choices (helping the tiefling kids, helping sazza), but would disapprove at things like covering for Ethel, not killing the ogres, not being given the necromancy of that.

Do they have their own personal quest that spans the course of the game?  Can it take different branching paths depending on the choices the Player Character makes?

So this is the hardest question to answer because every in game companion has at least 2 motivations. One is removing the worm, and the other is whatever they had going on personally before abduction. For Gum, him getting the tadpole is what helped him solve his initial issue which would be escaping his crèche. Gum has no reason to travel to Baldur Gate other than being a tadpoled exile. He's trying to survive.

I think Gum's personal quest would be more a passive thing the player engages with differently than the others. Instead of solving some end means, his would be more about showing him the world outside of the view he knows it as. Instead of an end destination that's tangible (like killing Cazador) he'd be more focused on making side stops and interacting with locations to teach him things or show him things with an end goal of helping him find a post game purpose. This could branch- player can be supportive in his beliefs and maybe encourage him to not completely shun his traditions, or player could be unsupportive and end up making him worse off and more untrusting to others. Later results in him not returning for the epilogue.

Will they stay with the Player Character regardless of siding with the goblins or the tieflings, or is it possible for them to leave the party permanently?

Gum will stay even if he doesn't approve of killing the tieflings. It would weigh on him a lot but I think he'd be more like Gale and just be really sour at the party, but wouldn't need a check to stay like Gale does. I know I mentioned that the player could sleep w Gum at the tiefling party even with low approval, I think at the goblin party it would not be an option.

How do they react when the Dark Urge first reveals their amnesia and murderous thoughts to them?

Gum would be pretty weary. I think bc of his time at his crèche running the zaithisk and how if you don't die you're kinda made compliant by force, he'd wonder if maybe Durge suffered a similar fate. He'd gently try to probe a question or two 'what is the last thing you remember, do you have strong religious views?' Before cutting himself off bc it's really not his business to be asking.

What questions can Zethino ask the PC about Tav in the Love Test? 

Q: Listen. Think. Where does Gum draw comfort when things are difficult?

A: The cold caress from a solo in the river.

Q: Those with a cold front hide their true selves from view- but pain reveals us all. What is the worst thing your love has ever done?

A: Not standing up when the time called for it most- in letting a life worth more than his own go without reason.

Q: It is in our nature to try and prove ourselves, to prove ourselves worthy of love. What is Gum's biggest flaw?

A: He is self sacrificing to a point where he's begun to lose himself in effort to not lose others.

How do they react if the PC has sex with Mizora? The Emperor?  Haarlep?

Gum is okay with being in a poly situation, but I think the implication of sleeping with mizora/harleep/emp is different from asking about Halsin. He'd be open to Halsin if the player asks.

With Mizora I think he'd be hurt and view it as cruel to himself and Wyll. Not that Wyll is involved with her that way, but the principle stands.

Haarlep he'd volunteer twice to substitute in place of the player but take no negative disapproval if they insist. He's used to being used sexually and would swallow a moment of displeasure to save his loved one from experiencing it.

With Emp... I think he'd be more scared for the player's well being but not be upset or respond negatively if not mind wiped. Would ask that next time the player give him notice- if there intends to be a next time. I do not think he'd be open to join like he would with Halsin, given he's already pretty terrified of turning illithid.

[kmlaney]

yesterday I had my first encounter with an AI chatbot as part of a "market research" questionnaire. And I have some thoughts

(kinda long and ranty so have a read-more)

For one, I pegged this thing as an AI chatbot from the first probing response, which read like a session with *Dr SBAITSO. I confirmed it after the session.

I did market research back in the ancient times when people answered their phones. I know that interviewers are supposed to probe to get respondents to define their terms in order to understand exactly what they mean. Ok, fine. But a human interviewer recognizes when a respondent has already defined their terms. They don't ask again. The chatbot doesn't evaluate what it records. It regurgitates whatever gets fed in and fits its format.

It was also pretty clear that I went way the hell off their script. Its probing questions were all "What do you mean by (repeats my response verbatim)?" Which I already answered.

[for the record, the survey was "hey suppose your company offered banking and financial advice through their payroll service? How cool would that be?" They didn't seem set up for repeated "no and here's why."]

So it was annoying to be "interviewed" by a program with less sense than a customer service call router. But again, ok, I'll give you my thoughts. I'm at work so I'm getting paid to do your survey. Fine. Whatever.

By the end, though, I was annoyed with the whole thing. It felt less personal than filling in the bubbles on the SAT. I wasn't communicating. Will anyone read my text responses? I doubt it. The whole point of AI chat is to be cheap and easy. Tabulate and spit out a number. The program doesn't care. The people making the program don't care.

The other impression, and perhaps the more irritating, was that the survey was a formality. Someone at the payroll company thought it was a good idea to offer these services and was collecting supportive "data" because they were going to implement it anyway.

Nobody cares.

idk. I just had a viscerally angry reaction to the experience and I don't really know why, other than a feeling of dis-empowerment and sense that this is the dystopian future I used to read about. Where's the meme?

Maybe I expected machine voice chat interactions to have improved in 30 years.

Gonna go yell at kids to get off my lawn.

*Want to play with Dr SBAITSO? Have a burning desire to experience the height of early 90's text-to-speech technology? Nostalgic for a program from a more civilized age, before chatGPT took control? Click Here (not a rickroll I promise).

[alayne-stonecoldfox]

What do you think would help make YA female main characters more interesting in comparison to boring ones like Elena Gilbert, Rory Gilmore etc? They’re so flat they make my eyes want to burst and you seem to have a different taste and distance yourself from that trope with the characters you stan. What kind of traits etc and character arc tend to draw you?

uuuuuh gosh this question made me have to think lmao, but GOOD question

I think I like best when a female main character is already a bit of a star?? if that makes sense. I dont (personally) like or relate to the shrinking, shy, wallflower, omg im so awkward and quirky, I wear converse, I like books, why is that boy looking at ME boys never look at ME, character tropes that a lot of female protagonists have. The writers have already shrunk them down. It’s like, this piece of media basically just told me this person is a loser, sometimes even explicitly like ‘Hi, im maddy averagegirlMcOrdinary, 17, and a ...welll... COMplete loser, and this is my life’ like girl bye, I’m not gonna stan a loser, I’d look past you in real life, i’m not reading a whole book on you....

so i guess a lot of it’s about confidence. Elle woods is such a universally loved character because of her confidence, she just exudes self love, and cares for other people and reaches goals on her own merit and THATS something audiences love to see and surprisingly isn’t seen that often considering. Same with Cher from clueless. She has her own plans and carries them out, female protaganists who make things happen rather than things just happen to them tend to be so much less boring. Proactive rather than re-active. Maddy averagegirlMcOrdinary is so busy worrying about what a loser she is and it’s like, girl, solve a real problem. Also both Elle and cher dont actually change a thing or have their life revolve around getting themselves their love interest. It comes along as they’re living their life for themselves, which I think is a great YA novel message. 

[anthro-bean]

How do you picture Astarion trying to tease/corrupt your paladin into sin/pleasure/oathbreaker?

Do you imagine Astarion getting off on any sort of roleplay involving your paladin or religion?

Would your paladin ever swap clothes/items with Astarion as like a "cute couple" thing?

*crying and wretching as this is my third attempt at answering this*

Aaaaahhhh I think about this a lot. Please excuse me.

Astarion would try to goad Tavarti a little at first. Tease her for being sheltered, naive, stupid, etc. He'd find her tightly wound repression hilarious and fun to poke. He'd notice her look positively shocked, face red and hot with all that intoxicating blood, after the ogrexbugbear incident. He makes a few tawdry jokes to test the waters and watches as she flusters and struggles to even look him in the eye.  Oh, and that's it. That's all he needs. It's all over. He finally sees a gap in the white knight's armor. Oh, this is rich. Is there no end to his good fortune as of late?

Once he sniffs her out, he starts probing.  Specifics about her Oath mostly. Oh, you can't lie? Then anything you don't out right deny is a yes, is that right? Prepare to be constantly needled with intrusive little questions about your sexual preferences.  The usually commanding, holier-than-thou white knight reduced to either a blushing virgin or closeted pervert in the eyes of their entire party. It's not just about humiliating her(though he suspects she might enjoy it as much as he does, the cheeky pup.), he's planting little seeds in her head.  Forcing thoughts and images into her mind she dare not imagine before. He'll start pretending to be more hurt than he is, asking for help he knows she can't deny, so she'll have to put her hands on his body. Have him near her. He wants her to lie awake at night and still be thinking about the things he says to her. The way he looks. The way he feels. He may not be able to turn her or charm her (yet), but that won't stop him from trying to ruin something so pure, so divine. It's just too delicious to not try.

Astarion, the rat bastard he is, would just keep pushing her boundaries. Just to see how far she'll let him go.  He would never force her (not unless she wanted him to). No, he wants her to want him.  To desire him.  To burn for him.

If she indulges then he got to corrupt her, if not, well, its still fun to see her in turmoil. It's a win-win as far as he's concerned.

As he eventually gets more attached, he'll start to actually notice (maybe even care about) how restricted she at all times. What she can and cannot do. The things she denies herself.  The authority and control she allows others to have over her...it starts to irk him. He begins egging her on in other ways.  Trying to get her to lean into her anger. Take revenge. He wants her to free herself of her restrictions because why would anyone want to live so miserably? He's doing the poor thing a favor.  He'll be doing for her what the mindflayers did for him.  That Oath is just a much a prison as his curse or Wyll's pact as far as he is concerned.  I think one of my favorite themes I've kinda noticed about Astarion's story is freedom. Freedom to choose. Freedom from tyranny. Freedom to be.  It's the potential connection I see between a character like Astarion and a paladin of Ilmater (a very anti-slavery/suffering god). To him he'd be setting her free.

Now. For when he actually does get the knight to fold? He doesn't know where to start. He doesn't want to scare the poor thing off. No, no. The temple types are always skittish, you have to have finesse with this kind of prey. He'd start slow and subtle. Just like before,  testing the waters. He'd bring her to the brink, positively drunk on their passion, and start...trying little things. He'd of course start with all the things he teased her with, especially the bits that got the strongest reaction. He is a consummate lover after all. He'd get her so wound up, she's barely aware of what she's agreeing to.  Tie her up with her holy bonds. Making her beg for his forgiveness. His permission. He'd eventually have her doing things that would make Loviatar blush. It would delight him to no end. Having her submit herself to him in ways she never has, not even to her beloved lord. A lord he likes to remind her is always with her, watching her, especially when she's cleaning her own wet from his cock or begging him to let her come. He tortures her sweetly, making sure she has plenty to pray about come morning. He wants her to eventually stop trying, too ashamed to even ask forgiveness. Then all that devotion will be just for him. As it should be. She'll be happier for it even.

Okay. I think that concludes the horny part of the tour.

Tavarti would no doubt give Astarion some sort of favor, the white knight she tries to be. A handkerchief, delicately embroidered and recognizable. Something he'd flaunt around less than subtle rivals for her attention. Later in the relationship others might notice (but dare not mention) a small red braided cord tied around the elf's wrist. Discreetly tucked away beneath his sleeve.

Astarion, constantly trying to undermine her every oath because who lives like this honestly, would ply Tavarti with all sorts of pretty trinkets. He'll tempt her with blood red gemstones in gold settings ("Look! It's even one of His colors, right? It'll be fine! It matches. I went through all that trouble..."). She'll refuse most all of it save one simple, easy to hide piece. As a favor to him. ..since he went through the trouble. He really should be rewarded for being giving all things considered. Right?

Anyway. I could write so much (and I have probably already written too much lets be honest). I can't wait to dedicate more time to some of this. (First, I have to move my entire journal over to docs or something. )

Thank you for asking. :3

[phantomrose96]

Joyrider

(Welcome to another warm-up writing piece. cw for mild body horror)

...

The mall food court doubled rather nicely as a battle-dome.

It fit the bill: a flat and circular arena, crowned two-stories up by a hemisphere of glass windows which lapsed iridescent in the maelstrom of ecto-fire.

Spectator chairs sat empty, hastily shoved back and knocked over by the Amity Park mall patrons who knew to leg it at the first sound of explosions and the first sign of the atmosphere tipping dark. Admittedly, the patron evacuation took longer than Danny anticipated, and he backed himself into a corner playing defense for the 50 some-odd people who, worn-out on the every-day mundanity of ghost alarms, took their time gathering belongings, or shutting off burners, or working in a few last bites of a burger.

So with the crowd gone and the stage their own, Danny found himself pressed back against a vat of french fry oil, hands braced against the handle of a broom he held out horizontally, which the ghost gripped with equal measure and shoved her full weight against.

“Oh, why not take a little dip, Ghost Boy? I hear the water’s nice.”

“No thanks,” Danny answered, shoving harder. “I never was much of a hot tub guy. You on the other hand—”

Danny set a foot forward and pivoted, body fueling the torque as he spun the broom, and tore the ghost with him, a pirouette to swap their spots and jam the ghost back-pressed to the fryer.

“—you seem like you’d like it hot.”

The ghost barked a laugh, jaw stretching lower and loose than Danny was comfortable with.

“Ha! You sure? Not very heroic of you to deep fry this girl I’m possessing.”

Danny faltered. His grip slipped. His blood chilled to ice as the information clicked in place – as he recognized the sensation of a ghost talking through someone. This wasn’t the ghost’s own form. This was some girl. How had he not felt—

A blast took him by the ribs. Danny doubled over, immediately kicked back. A foot found contact with his face, driving him down, until the girl’s wet and slippery fingers pinned him down by the wrists.

Danny strained. He could pivot his wrist a fraction of an inch left or right, but he could not break the hold.

“Get off me!”

And a voice answered from behind him.

“I can help with that.”

Danny craned his neck. Upside down, vantage point from the floor, he registered Sam’s combat boots slam into focus. She bent to one knee, a bazooka locked on the other. It charged, whined, and erupted with an explosion of green light.

The ghost shrieked. It took only an instant of resistance before the ghost tore cleanly from the girl possessed.

“Now if you don’t mind me—” Tucker, by the voice. Danny heard the whine of a Fenton Thermos heating up. “—I’d officially like to change my order from fries to soup.”

The beam burst forth, and the writhing, shrieking, yelping form of the exorcised ghost clawed and scratched in Danny’s direction before the thermos consumed her in full.

“Really? ‘Fries to soup’? Even Danny can do better than that.”

“Hey,” Danny answered.

“I was thinking on my feet, Sam. I didn’t hear any witty quips from you.”

The conversation fell away from Danny’s focus as the full human weight of the possessed girl dropped down on him. Gently, Danny gripped her by the shoulder, lifting her as he pushed himself into a sitting position.

“Your parents’ anti-possession gear is getting good. I don’t think I’ve seen an exorcism work that quickly.” Sam’s voice, now at his side. Danny glanced over, finding her kneeling beside him. “Is she hurt?”

Danny gave the girl a once-over. She was pale, cold, lips seeping blue. A mottled, blackish bruise spread across her temple, partially hidden beneath loose red bangs.

“I don’t… totally know. I didn’t land any hits on her, thankfully. But who knows what that ghost might have done. We should call an ambulance.”

“On it,” Tucker, from behind.

“Do you… do you think the bazooka might have hurt her?” Sam asked.

Danny shook his head. “Mom and Dad have blasted each other with that thing a hundred times. Dad got himself possessed by the box ghost for a trial run. It doesn’t hurt people. …Maybe she just needs a minute.”

“Lay her down, maybe?”

“Good idea.”

Danny eased forward, careful in his movements. Something about his grip slipped, sliding loose and rolling forward, and she fell unceremoniously from his arms, shoulder knocking ground as she lay there partially turned on her side.

“Danny!”

“Sorry! I didn’t—something slipped!”

“Well don’t leave her like—” Sam gripped a hand to the girl’s shoulder, weight behind her wrist to roll the girl fully onto her back. Sam’s hand froze, and then yanked away.

“What?” Danny asked.

“That didn’t feel right.” Sam only stared down, her hand hovering, twitching in increments. “Way too cold… and loose.”

“Loose?”

“Danny, look at her hands. What’s wrong with her hands?”

Danny looked. The skin stretched and wrapped the bones of her fingers as if rotated partway around. Her fingernails sat off-center, twisted around and bunched up like a glove. Sam’s hand came back into view, and she clamped it to the girl’s wrist.

“It’s like jelly. Danny it’s like jelly. Why is she this cold? Danny, I don’t think she’s—”

Something new caught Danny’s eye, a purple discoloration peeking out from the bottom ruffles of the girl’s shirt. His hands seemed to move on their own as he reached down, and pinched the bottom of her shirt, and pulled it back.

Black bruising consumed her torso, caving deep and bloating, pruning around the trails of heavy stitching that ran along the tracks of surgical cuts carving through her abdomen.

Danny yanked his hand away as if burned.

“Danny, she’s not breathing.”

The rest of Danny’s thoughts drowned in the swelling wail of the approaching ambulance siren.

…

Outside the Fenton Portal, green lighting doused the only part of Danny’s form not hidden in shadow, and danced with the fire of his glowing green eyes. Danny uncapped the thermos in his hand, and he trailed his thumb along the eject switch.

A new consuming green light belted forth, lasting only a moment until it vanished with a twin-braided ghost in its wake. The ghost blinked, smoothing over her hair and pulling the ends of her braids over her shoulders.

“Oh, it’s the Ghost Boy again. I thought you’d just throw me back in the Ghost Zone. Are you interested in a round 2?”

“No, not interested,” Danny answered, tone colder than ice.

“Yeesh, you’re quite sour. No more puns?”

“Why were you possessing that girl?”

“Hmm?”

“Why were you possessing her?”

The ghost blinked, green portal light mixing murkily with her purple eyes. “No particular reason. It was just a joyride.”

“A joyr—she was dead.”

Another blink. “Yeah I know. She was sitting in the morgue. She was in like a car crash or something and they already took all her organs. They didn’t need her. And I was gonna give her back, but you had to go and make it a whole thing.” The girl swooped forward, eyes wide and roving over Danny. “You seem mad. Wanna call a truce?” She stuck a hand forward. “I’m Melissa, by the way.”

Danny jolted, eyes flashing brighter. “No, you’re not. That girl was Melissa.”

“Oh for real?” Melissa let out a chuckle. “Crazy coincidence. I like don’t even know that many Melissas. Anyway truce?”

“No.” Danny ran his fingers through his hair. “You were possessing the body of a dead girl and you made me fight her! Don’t you see how that’s—that’s so—how fucked up—that you’d even—”

“Well I mean, I didn’t make you fight me. You made that happen. I was minding my business.”

“Doing what?”

“Shopping. Why else would I take a body for a joyride? I stole some cute clothes to wear. Stole some food to eat. Oh! That outfit I was wearing when we were fighting? Yeah I picked that out. She was in like a hospital gown when I found her. Super cute improvement right?”

An ectoblast sounded and connected with the wall behind Melissa, missing her a foot to the right. Danny’s hand glowed, and his eyes focused with a razor sharpness.

“Stop talking like that, okay? It’s pissing me off. I need you to tell me you know this was fucked up.”

Melissa put a finger to her chin. “I mean I guess stealing is kinda wrong. They were all like, big box corporate stores don’t worry.”

“The. Dead. Body.”

And Melissa fell silent a moment, violet eyes probing deep into Danny’s before widening. “Oh. Oh you’re like for-real mad about that. Like actually. I thought you were like, making an ironic joke.”

“Why the hell would I be joking about this??”

Melissa cocked her head to the side. “Well because you’re doing it too, duh. Like, duh.”

A huff of air cut against Danny’s teeth, an involuntary noise, incredulous, a guffaw he didn’t consciously make. The jelly sensation of decomposing flesh was back under his fingers. “I am not—would never—I’ve never even seen a dead body before this thing with you and I’d never in a million years even think for even a fucking second that I’d want to possess a dead body. What’s wrong with you?!”

Melissa bobbed a little in the air, ends of her braids trailing over the straps of her ephemeral sundress. “See this is why I really can’t tell if you’re joking or not. What are you talking about? You’re doing it right now.” She clasped her hands behind her back. “The black-haired boy whose corpse you’re possessing. Why are you allowed to do it?”

Danny froze. He laughed, heavy, with an uncomfortable force. “Myself, you mean? I’m not possessing myself. I am myself. I’m a half-ghost.”

Melissa met his laugh. “Oh what? No way like, that’s your own corpse? How’d you even get back to it in time? That’s crazy lucky like you must have died right near a portal or something.”

An involuntary shiver traced down Danny’s spine.

“…I’m not dead.” His eyes shifted around, and Danny dropped to the floor. He set a hand against the wall, throwing on the lights to the Fenton basement. Rings swept around his form, green iridescent eyes sweeping blue, white hair seeping black. “Look. Literally look at me. I’m not dead.”

And Melissa swooped closer. She set a finger to her bottom lip and hovered a foot in front of Danny, drinking him in. She swept to the side, like a swimmer in the water, sweeping around him in a full arc. She edged closer and pinched her fingers against the exposed skin on Danny’s arm. He flinched.

“Oh wow there’s like, not even any decay or anything. Your human brain even feels like it’s working it’s all like, electro-magnety. How long were you dead before you got back to your body?”

“I didn’t die.”

“Then what did happen?”

“I got shocked by the Fenton Portal, okay? It was just a lab accident and it gave me powers.”

“Oh. Oh.” Melissa’s eyes shot wide. “Oh you didn’t die near a portal… You died in a portal. You didn’t even have to get back to find your body at all. You must have appeared like practically on top of your own body. That’s crazy lucky. That’s so lucky. Your body was like, probably only dead a microsecond before you hopped back in. No wonder it’s so well-preserved.”

Danny swatted her away. “You’re not listening to me.”

“You’re not listening to me.” Melissa floated backwards. “What do you think is more likely? A bajillion ecto-volts somehow gave you superpowers that exactly mirror everything a regular dead ghost can do? …Or you died, and became a regular old ghost, and did what any regular old ghost can do, which is possess a freshly-dead dead body?”

“…I’m half-ghost,” Danny answered, human heart pounding in his chest. “I know what I am.”

Melissa bobbed back, feet pointed backwards until the soles of her feet skimmed the matrix of the portal. “I see you’ve made up your mind. That’s alright. But it was still pretty mean of you to accuse me like a big hypocrite like that.”

“I’ll destroy you if you ever try that again.”

“Oh I’ll try asking permission next time okay? Promise.” Melissa’s feet sank into the surface of the portal. “But, before I go, I’ve just got one more question to leave you with.”

“Go.”

“Why should a lethal accident do anything other than kill you?”

“Go.”

“Maybe you’ll have an answer for me next time I see you. Byeee!”

A spark of white erupted from the portal, consuming, absorbing, and fizzling out as Melissa’s form vanished into the ether beyond.

…

“Hey! Yo! Danny, come check this out!”

Danny rounded the stairs, unsocked feet creaking the floorboards with each step. Danny yawned, and blinked, and rubbed at his bruised eyes with the sleeve of his pajama top.

“Still asleep? That’s fine! You don’t have to do anything. Just come over here and look at what your old pop’s been up to.”

Danny entered the living room, where Jack sat hunched on the couch surrounded by an arsenal of power tools, rags, oil, soldering equipment, and scrap metal. From beside him he hefted a bazooka into view.

“This is the Fentonzooka 3.2.17. Amped up and equipped with all the latest in ghost-busting and human-saving technology.”

Danny blinked. “3.2.17?”

“Yep. This baby’s got 17 bug patches, tweaks, and internal improvements since the 3.2.0. The 3.2.0 was the advent of the snack compartment in the side. Look!” Jack spun a dial, revealing a chamber half-filled with pistachios.

Danny only stared.

Jack hefted the bazooka onto his shoulder. “Even better, Mads and I finally got rid of the last little sting humans feel when it’s fired. It’s now completely 100% harmless to humans. It feels like the breeze from a standing fan when it hits ya.” Jack turned, and he aimed the barrel at Danny. “Wanna try it out?”

Danny stood, and Danny stared, and Danny said nothing.

What might happen when it hit him?

Would it hit like the gentle breeze of a fan? Wash over him like air conditioning? Tingle cool and pleasant against his human fingers, human face, human skin?

Would it do something else?

Why should a lethal accident do anything other than kill you?

Jack eased the bazooka a bit off center, pulling his eyes away from the sight. He stared directly at Danny. “Danny?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you want to try it out?”

Danny stood.

Danny stared.

Danny wondered if he’d have an answer for Melissa the next time he saw her.

[nemeseos-noctua]

Hi! Could i request hcs for Diluc and Xiao with a reader who is shy? Thank you!

𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: xiao, diluc (separate) x gn!reader

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: a few swears in diluc’s! (it’s like one or two)

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: this is actually my first tumblr post.... ive been super busy with school, sports, and other stuff. sorry! ill try to write more in the future! (constellations has been doing everything so far since i still dont know how tumblr works lol)

also, these are stupid long... and for what.

adventuring was a lot for you to process

okay, so maybe having your own Benny’s Adventure Team was not great while traveling through Dragonspine and Liyue

too many of everything

you ended up getting really beat up.

after passing through Mingyun Village, you could see Wangshu Inn and decided to stay there until you were healed up

you always found comfort in the night sky, so you went out there every day

It was your fifth night staying at the inn before you saw a short male standing on the balcony where you would usually be. Strange. You’d never seen anyone like that before.

You seemed to have caught him off guard when you started to approach him since he jumped a little. 

Taking a closer look at his face, you studied it a bit. He had golden eyes and dark teal hair that seemed to frame his face perfectly, accompanied by lighter streaks of the same colour.

Pretty... you thought, completely entranced by this strange man (boy?). 

“Ah, sorry. I’m probably disturbing you... I’ll go now...” 

He blinked. 

god he’s in love

not even romantic love but he loved you like the past adepti

xiao would see so many couples over the years that he’s been at the inn and absolutely hated them, but this?? 

okay it’s a different type of love but damn it felt nice

You started to turn and walk back to your room before hearing his voice.

“Stay.” 

STAY??? WE MOVING KINDA FAST BUT ALRIGHT PRETTY BOY !! 

On the outside, you were cooler than a cucumber. The inside? Chaos. Millions of thoughts raced throughout that little head of yours. 

“Only if you’re fine with it...”

Turning back around, you took a few steps forward before noticing that he wore a lot of accessories on him. One of them being a mask that resembled one of the Vigilant Yaksha’s in that one book you read as a kid. Probably just a fan or something.

You reached the balcony, taking a spot next to him while also keeping some space between the two of you. Leaning on the balustrade (the railing of a balcony), you rested your head on top of your arms.

A comfortable silence was placed in the middle of the two. A silent breeze blew, adding to the mellow mood. 

“What brings you here?” the pretty stranger suddenly inquired, gaining a small jolt from your serene state. “Did I scare you? My apologies.”

“Oh, uh, it’s nothing...” You lifted your head to look out at the lands of Dihua Marsh. Seeing Dragonspine in the distance gave you a chill. Those were not the greatest memories. The small movement didn’t go unnoticed by the boy.

“You’re an adventurer?”

“Oh... yeah, I am... I’m not that experienced yet, though...” 

for SOME REASON... this man felt even more inclined to protect you

you still had a fair amount of bandages wrapped around your limbs, so it was clear that you were injured

GOD IF HE COULD JUST HUG YOU RIGHT THERE AND THEN

but he did not.

he has restraint.

he is a good boy.

“I met a traveler that wasn’t very experienced either.” This fact shocked you. So he has been here for a while... but why hadn’t you seen him before? Does he just... disappear into thin air..?

the answer is yes

he does indeed do that

but that’s besides the point.

“Oh... that’s nice...” 

It was getting late. The moon was starting to lower back down and the lids of your eyes were getting heavier and heavier by the minute. You let out a yawn, but it was muffled by your head being buried in your arms once again.

“You should go get some rest.” You hummed. 

Then, a thought popped into your head.

“If you don’t mind me asking... what’s your name?” 

Even though you weren’t facing him, you could feel his piercing gaze on you. It wasn’t uncomfortable at all, but gave you a feeling of protection.

“Xiao.” You mouthed his name to yourself silently. It was nice.

“Goodnight, Xiao. I hope that we can do this again soon.”

“Goodnight to you...”

“(Y/N).”

“...(Y/N).”

you were a cryo catalyst that tried to fight against some cryo slimes alone

hint: that was a bad idea

my favourite elemental reaction was immune!

literally... you couldn’t even do anything to them

and you were getting beat up. 

badly.

for plot convenience you were at the lake next to Dawn Winery

“Shit...” 

At this point, you’d been fending these slimes off for around a quarter of an hour now and you were getting tired now.

Your dumbass tried to drown them in the lake but forgot that they immediately froze any moisture underneath them. You tried attacking them but everything you could do was inflict the freeze effect (against CRYO slimes). 

You literally could not do anything. Time to get frozen to death!

“Burn!”

WHAT???

Suddenly, a big fire bird swept up the slimes that had been occupying you for the last 20 minutes or so, effectively taking them out. 

At this point, the only thing that kept you standing was your adrenaline, which quickly ran out as you dropped to the ground in exhaustion. You let out a sigh, finally free from those damned slimes. You will have your revenge one day... just not today.

While you were resting on the ground, your saviour had been standing there, watching you calm down. And so you looked up to be greeted by probing crimson orbs, which definitely startled you.

Your saviour was.... Master Diluc. Master Diluc Ragnvindr, wealthiest man in Mondstadt. Him. In front of you. 

“OH! I, um, Master Diluc! What brings you here?” 

‘WHAT BRINGS YOU HERE??’ HE LIVES HERE THOUGH?? 

“I was taking a stroll around the winery and happened to see you in your own predicament.”

You attempted to stand up, though your legs failed you as you only flopped back onto the dirt. 

diluc doesn’t wanna admit it but that was unbelievably stupid, cute, and endearing

okay and what if this emo boy doesn’t like people

he still has feelings too >:(

“I’ll stay here with you so you won’t get attacked again. So relax.”

Mans was telling you to “relax” while you were in the presence of a literal typhoon here. He was so brooding and scary-looking all the time that you couldn’t even try to relax.

A few minutes pass and the sound of water rushing was the only thing keeping you two company. 

It was nice to enjoy nature, but the tension between the two of you was still higher than ever.

To break this silence, you had tried to stir up some small talk.

“The weather is nice today, huh...”

He grunted, which seemed to be a regular response of his. You started to notice this after a few questions like “how’s your day been” or “have any plans today?”

Not that you were genuinely interested. You bet that he could tell that you were trying to make it less awkward by responding at all, but it just didn’t help at all.

You were probably sitting for a good 10 minutes before deciding to stand up again, in which you were successful. But could you walk back to the city?

That was debatable.

You definitely felt and looked unstable, so being the gentleman he was raised to be, Diluc reluctantly bent down and slung your shoulder over his.

The height difference between the two of you was pretty big, so he ended up just carrying you to his place. As goofy as it looked, it got the job done.

― riri ✨

[kim-ruzek]

life's strange sense of humour

Summary: Kim, Hailey, Sylvie and Stella all conceive their babies around the same time... Then also go into labour on the same day. Pure Crack, but taken seriously because this is me.

Or; a love letter to the upgess friendship because they went funny fic? Nah, we're gonna make it wholesome.

Warnings: Childbirth, I guess.

Word Count: 3.4k

Read on AO3

Notes: So. I had this funny thought months ago, recently talked about it with Cíara when they mentioned something similar and I'm having Thoughts about how I want the upgess friendship to go so apparently my mind went yes, write this, please.

Also Cíara: it's not the child number we decided and not the exact circumstances but I couldn't help but make burzek's conception happen this way 👀

Life, Kim has learned, can have a strange sense of humour sometimes.

This, she thinks to herself as her and Hailey stare, open mouthed, speechless, shocked at each other, is definitely one of those times.

“I... What?.. I,” Hailey stumbles out, her eyes wide, Kim staring back with equally wide eyes, watching as the blonde tries to process this, tries to process how they even happened—all while wondering herself what the chances of this happening are, that this can only be because life has a strange taste in what’s funny.

“This—this isn’t right, right? Kim, right?” Hailey almost looks desperate at her, glancing down at the stick in her hand and back up at Kim frantically, her eyes darting as she does so, gliding over the pink positive line like if she doesn’t focus on it, it won’t be there.

“Well, I kinda hope it is,” Kim lets out a dry kind of laugh as she answers, glancing at her own stick, with a matching pink line. “Since we brought these together and I—I want to be pregnant.”

The panic lessens briefly in Hailey’s eyes, her friend smiling again at Kim’s own shock. “Right, yeah. And you want to be pregnant—so no more freaking out, yeah?”

Hailey grabs Kim’s hand with her spare one, giving it a supportive squeeze. “No more freaking out, this is good.”

Kim smiles back at her friend, the hand holding her stick drifting over her flat stomach. Her earlier worries—about if she can do this, if she could handle being pregnant again—still clinging to her but not making her feel as sick, the joy and excitement at being pregnant, at having Adam’s baby in her again, flooding her stronger. She repeats her friend’s words in her mind; this is good.

“But like—yours could be right, and mine wrong? Right? Like that could happen? I mean— people get false positives. This, mine, it could be false?” Hailey has gone back to freaking out. Kim places her stick down so that she can run her hands down the blonde’s arms, calming her.

“Hailey, breathe. Everything is okay.” Kim pauses, letting Hailey breathe in and out before continuing. “It could be a false positive—it could also be real. But it’s okay, it’s not a crisis if it is real. Have you and Jay discussed kids?”

Hailey smiles momentarily at the mention of her husband, her hand twisting the wedding ring on her finger before answering Kim. “Yeah. I mean, yeah, of course we have. A few times—before we were even together, even. Not that we were planning it together—well, not out loud—”

“Hailey.” Kim cuts off her rambling. There’s not many times that the blonde rambles, even when she’s panicking, she keeps a—seemingly—calm head. But when she does, she can really start to spiral.

“Sorry.” Hailey stops, running a hand through her hair, the other still clinging to the stick, almost as if she can’t put it down, like the thought is something incredibly out there and impossible.

“What have you discussed? Do you two want kids?” Kim gently probes.

“Yeah. Yeah, we do.” Another short-lived smile. “But not—not now. It’s still, it’s something in the future. And we still weren’t fully decided if we’d do it this way, like I always wanted to adopt but I know, I know it’s not a walk in the park and we’ve been talking. I’ve been wondering if it was just because of the fear of my genes and I. We agreed we’ll leave it for a bit, but that’s gone out the window.”

Hailey pauses, running her hand through her hair again, before groaning. “Kim, tell me, what should I do?”

Kim gently holds both of her hands, closing Hailey’s fist around the stick. “You talk to Jay.”

That seems to calm the blonde, Hailey getting a soft smile on her face—the face Kim has dubbed her Jay smile. “Yeah. I talk to Jay.”

“Okay. Can we leave now—I think if we’re any longer Adam might just walk in. You know he has no patience,” Kim looks at Hailey’s expression carefully, noting every part of it, making sure that her friend is good enough to get through the rest of the day.

“Yeah. Yes.” Hailey nods, pulling Kim into a hug. “Thanks, Kim. And congratulations, again. This is really great.”

Kim squeezes her back, looking forward to when she might—maybe—be able to say it back to Hailey.

The day had started with Kim throwing up in the toilet. She had been feeling nauseous for a few days, going in waves, and that feeling—that thought that it might be because she’s pregnant and not because it’s flu season—had been in the back of her mind.

She had tried not to focus on that thought too much, not wanting to go down that path, not when it could just be a bug. Not wanting to give herself hope, only to get it taken from her.

Kim had rationalised it, even the throwing up. It was a minute amount, nothing compared to when she was pregnant the first time. Adam had a food related bug the other day, so this could just be that, Kim had told herself. Things tend to hit her a bit slower, after all.

And then there’s that Sylvie has a stomach bug—one that’s kept her in bed all week, texting Kim often to complain when Matt is on shift. And Kim had hung out with Sylvie the day before she fell ill. This, Kim told herself, is probably just it affecting her, now, too.

This day was the first time she threw up, and so was the first time she told Adam she’s been feeling nauseous. His reaction was exactly how she predicted it would be.

He had lifted an eyebrow, pausing as he sipped his coffee. “Are you... Do you think..?”

Adam had asked it very casually, his expression neutral. Like her, he was unable to say the words, finish the sentence, neither one of them wanting to voice the possibility, not wanting to voice it in case it’s not, not wanting the hurt associated with false hope.

“I don’t know. It’s probably a bug.” Kim had answered and he had hummed in response. A part of her wished that she wouldn’t tell him this, that she wouldn’t be having this conversation with him when it’s just a thought and not even, really, much of a possibility.

But communication is important, a lesson she had learnt many times before—that in the long run, it does more than doesn’t. And it’s not good for her, for herself, to keep these thoughts locked up only in her brain. Especially when having more kids is something they want.

It’s not like they’re actively trying. Kim’s only just come off birth control, and the doctor warned them it takes a while for her body to adjust. They had even been using condoms, occasionally, as it makes the clean up easier in their busy lives.

That had been all they had said to each other, then, needing to get Makayla ready and to school, before heading to work themselves. But it was only a few hours later, when another wave of nausea had washed over her while Adam and her were in the break room that she had stopped them making the coffee, grabbing at Adam’s arm.

“I should get a test.” Kim had told him, murmuring, but her urgency clear. She knew she wouldn’t be able to concentrate on anything else until she knew if she was or not, the thoughts in her mind almost distracting her.

“Okay. Now? We can say we’re going to see a CI?” Adam immediately got his game face on, and that’s when she had started to panic. About what if she is pregnant, about if she’s ready to be pregnant again, about if she can handle it.

Suddenly, the thought of simply peeing on a stick seemed impossible.

Hailey had entered the break room, then, and had took on look at Kim’s panicked expression and Adam trying to calm her to know that something was up. It only took one look between her and Adam, after Hailey asked if she was okay, for them to fill in Hailey, needing another voice to help them through this.

“Hey, calm down.” Hailey had said in that way of hers. “It’ll be okay and there’s no point panicking until you know—and here. If it’s too much to pee alone, I’ll take one with you. Moral support.”

It was an insane idea, Adam staring at Hailey incredulously. But it clicked in Kim’s brain, and she found herself saying yes before she knew what she was doing.

They had used the CI lie instead, telling Voight they were going to see one of Hailey’s. Kim had watched as Hailey tried not to focus on Jay’s eyes following them out the bullpen, not wanting to let him know there was anything more to it—good, considering.

The journey there and back was filled with Kim’s nervous ramblings to Hailey, as she voiced her fears and worries about this, the blonde just listening patiently and giving her comfort and support when she needed it.

They had taken the tests in the district ladies room, Adam waiting outside—probably shooing away anyone else. Which, Kim had thought, probably means Trudy will have a theory to her being pregnant before the day is up.

“It’ll be alright, Kim.” Hailey had reassured her as they waited those long two minutes. Hailey had gotten out her phone, had set a timer for them and even though Kim could see the seconds counting down, it felt like eternity.

“I can’t. Can you look at it?” Kim had asked after the minutes were up, unable to look at the stick, feeling quite like her heart was in her throat. Hailey had rolled her eyes good-naturedly, before telling Kim that she will.

The excited yelp that left Hailey’s mouth almost instantly after told Kim all she needed to know and Kim turned the stick to look at it herself, and seeing that amazing pink line.

“I’m pregnant! Hailey, I’m pregnant!” Kim couldn’t help her own excitement, throwing her arms around the blonde, squeezing her into a hug.

“Oomph,” Hailey clearly hadn’t been prepared for that, lifting her arms weirdly at the sudden brunette weight barrelled into her and that’s when Kim saw it.

Hailey’s own stick.

Hailey’s own stick, with her own pink line.

“Hailey!” Kim gasped before she can stop it, squeaking out her friend’s name. Hailey pulled back from the hug, frowning at Kim.

“What?”

“Your...” Kim couldn’t finish the sentence, instead she pointed at the stick and watched as Hailey looked down at it, watching the comprehension and then shock over take her face.

It’s a few days later, and Kim is sitting in Molly’s. Sylvie has gotten over her bug and immediately organised a girl’s night out. Not that Kim or Hailey will be drinking—a shame, since Sylvie had told them that she and Stella had some exciting news.

The day after the found out, Hailey had come into work and whispered into Kim’s ear that everything was okay. That her and Jay decided that this is unexpected but welcome, and they had a doctor’s appointment to confirm it.

Very little people know yet. Kim has been to the doctor, the doctor confirming she is ten weeks along. They told Kevin almost immediately, Trudy—as Kim guessed—had yet again figured it out and of course Hailey knows, alongside Jay.

They told Voight, just so Kim could explain why she doesn’t want to go out in the field—can’t, really, her pregnancy being somewhat of a high risk—although she’s waiting until Monday to officially disclose.

This weekend Adam and her have plans to tell Makayla, something she’s quite excited too, knowing how much her daughter wants to be a big sister, having been begging them for a baby for months—well, that or a puppy.

Hailey and Jay have only told, obviously her and Adam, and Will. They’re waiting until after today—the day of their doctor’s appointment—before disclosing and Kim and Hailey had a conversation about announcing it to their mutual friends, deciding it might be nice to do it together. Of course, it depends on how along Hailey is.

“Hey,” Hailey slips into the booth next to her and Kim smiles in greeting to her friend.

“Hey. How did the appointment go?” Kim asks, knowing once Sylvie and Stella gets here they won’t be able to discuss the pregnancies.

“Great,” Hailey practically beams. “We heard the heartbeat! Jay cried.”

Kim laughs slightly. “So did Adam. I mean, so did I, but I cry at everything.”

At that, Hailey laughs too. “Kim, so does Adam. Not like you—but I wouldn’t say he’s not a crier. Jay—I’ve seen him cry, but, man, it was. It just hit me, this is the father of my baby. And it made me more happy then I think the heartbeat did. We were both raised by a men who never be seen crying but our baby isn’t going to have that. It was...it was wonderful.”

“I’m so happy for you. Congratulations,” Kim pulls her into a hug before quickly adding on, checking to see if Sylvie and Stella had arrived yet. “So come on, quick. How far along are you?”

At that, Hailey excitedly grabs her arms. “Yes! How could I forget! Kim, you’ll never guess—I’m also ten weeks along!”

Life, Kim thinks again, really does have a strange sense of humour.

A thought she once again thinks when Stella and Sylvie arrive and they make their announcement.

“We’re pregnant. Both of us.” They announce and Kim’s mouth drops open, and she realises they all ordered water instead of alcohol. She barely knows how to process this, Hailey squeezing her hand in shock under the table, but before she can, they’re dropping the next bombshell.

“Stella found out about a week or so ago, I found out earlier this week when I kept throwing up. We’re both around ten weeks,” Sylvie continues.

“No fucking way.” The words drop out of Hailey’s mouth, and judging by the way she gasps, holding her hands across her mouth, Kim guesses she didn’t mean them too. Kim tries to calm her down, widening her eyes at the blonde, but the other two catch on to that there’s something going on.

Kim sighs, after Hailey gives her the go ahead. “Hailey and I—we’re also pregnant. Ten weeks.”

Life has a strange sense of humour.

Kim doesn’t think there’s any mutual acquaintance in their lives who doesn’t somewhat doubt that the four couples didn’t plan this. If Kim wasn’t living through it, she’d scarcely believe it herself. Especially when they narrowed it down and are pretty sure all four pregnancies are the result of a faulty condom—condoms taken from Kelly’s infamous bathroom supply.

Kelly and Stella are self explanatory. They hadn’t used them in a while, but Stella was changing birth control and so they did. Matt and Sylvie a little bit less, but still less incredulous. Matt doesn’t live with Kelly and Stella anymore, but the guestroom—now a nursery—was still open to them any time, the boys having slight separation issues. And apparently when they did this, they’d just use Kelly’s supply.

Jay and Hailey had apparently ran out, and they hadn’t gotten more before Stella and Kelly hosted a night at theirs and Jay had apparently thought grabbing a handful from the supply would be a good idea. Hailey almost questioned her choice in man then, not that Kim could judge her.

Because on that same night, Adam and her were getting a little too flirty and when they realised they were feeling a little loud than they can be, with Makayla sleeping at home, they, in their wisdom, decided why not do it in Adam’s jeep.

And they didn’t have any protection, naturally, on them so Adam had grabbed a condom for Kelly’s supply.

And thus, all four pregnancies were made.

There are benefits, however, Kim would happily admit. Voight, maybe not, depending he’s down two members and another two when there’s doctor appointments. And with them being due around the same time, they’ll be a month he’s down all four, give and take. The unit—especially Kevin—might also not, especially on the days her and Hailey’s hormones and cravings and hated smells conflicted.

But there are benefits. Having your three close friends going through the same things is nice, especially when they could see if a symptom or something is usual—especially when one of the friends is a paramedic and the other’s brother in law is a doctor.

It also makes it more fun, all of them—the men included—having a light hearted race about who’s bump shows first, who kicks and moves first and so forth. It made the pregnancies that little bit more fun, even when it was miserable, even when doubts and anxieties about the upcoming parenthood loomed.

The biggest race, especially as the pregnancies drew closer to the end, was the competition and bets who will go into labour first, who will have their baby before the other.

But, of course, life has a strange sense of humour so, naturally, they all went into labour on the same day.

Stella had technically started the night before, her contractions beginning then. They were far and few in between so she was advised just to wait.

Kim’s had started earlier that morning. She had been woken up at the crack of dawn with back pain. Nothing too unusual at this stage of the pregnancy, but as Adam was helping Makayla pack her lunch for school, Kim’s waters had broke.

When Adam and her had gotten to the hospital, about to update the group chat, they had passed Stella and Kelly and the high five they had shared had raised some nurses eyebrows.

Childbirth being the thing that it is, they didn’t look at the group chat after that. Kim’s contractions were starting to come more frequently, and Adam had left the room to holler at the doctor—only to run into Will. Will, who raised his eyebrow at Adam, and asked if he was here for Hailey and Jay.

Because the one thing Voight joked better not happen, that he can’t be down four members, plus a fifth and the desk sergeant as they were determined to meet Kim and Adam’s second daughter as soon as possible, had happened and Hailey had gone into labour around midday.

Flora Leslie Severide is born first, at seven point six pounds. Her godparents had plans to meet her first, but they had got laid up with their own new arrival so the man who had been like a father to both her parents and his wife met her first.

Alice Trudy Burgess Ruzek is born second, at eight point seven pounds, a weight that got her father nearly cursed at. Her older sister was the first to meet her, shortly followed by their grandmother Trudy and godfather Kevin.

If you were to ask Kim who’s kid would come next, she would’ve guessed the Halstead’s son, but it wasn’t. Sylvie had gone into labour later than the others, but had a much faster labour, her daughter being determined to be born quickly, apparently.

And so, Estelle Kelly Casey is born third, at nearly seven pounds. Met first by her honorary grandfather, Mouch, already at the hospital to be with his wife and her godparents, with her cousin Flora sleeping, having been in the world a little longer.

And finally, Nikolas Patrick Halstead made his arrival, last but the biggest at nine pounds, met by his uncle and godfather first, but shortly followed by uncle Kevin, his godmother Kim and uncle Adam still occupied with his cousin.

Life has a strange sense of humour sometimes but—as Kevin joked—at least they can all split birthday costs with each other and not have to worry about their various aunts and uncles not being able to make it.

Not to mention how it made finding the balance between being new parents and having a social life easier.

And eventually, people stopped looking at them as if they planned this. That is, of course, until Sylvie and Hailey had their second kids—Andrew Casey and Theodore Halstead—at the same time, too.

[heavyns]

addiction.

smut ; kuroo x f!reader

warnings: yandere tones and behaviour, dubcon/noncon, size kink kinda, aphrodisiac, overstimulation, corruption kink, a mix of praise kink and degradation kink, lots of vulgar language, whatever the fuck horny 2 am me thought was dirty talk

important note : okay this is nasty and in no way should be condoned in real life. THIS IS NOT LOVE. consent is important and even if someone does consent, if theyre under the influence of alcohol, drugs, etc. that still does not count as consent.

anyways again, this is super self indulgent but some of you all might enjoy it so i'll leave this here. i might write a part 2 wherein the s/o is actually not under the influence of anything and kuroo's manipulative and possessive self really jumps out but idk

kuroo was someone who didn't get drunk easily, didn't get hooked on things easily. but when it came to you, he was addicted. obsessed. he knows its not healthy and his actions would be deemed disgusting but he couldn't help it. not when his sweet little kitten was always so much more compliant this way. you had enjoyed it anyways.

he remembers the first time he's done this. you were so eager to please him. even when it was your first time, you took his cock so so well. and he remembers the time after that, and then the next and the next. it's been a few months since he started doing this but each time he does, you still think it's your first.

well he was partly to blame for it of course. you'd already be drinking yourself into a blackout drunk stupor at a party and he'd add a drug to the last drink he'd let you take, causing your hormones to act up and make you feel like a bitch in heat. it also makes you conveniently forget everything when you wake up.

you both had gone out to get some air, the red cup you were holding already empty of its spiked contents. a small smirk plays on his face seeing you fidget with the outfit you donned for the party.

"kitten are you feeling alright?" you turn to him and start giggling.

"never better!" you singsonged as you step closer to him and flashed him the same dazzling smile he's hooked on.

with the close proximity you had put yourself in, he can already see your half-lidded eyes blown out and your chest heaving labored breaths. your gaze flashes down to his lips and in a second, you gave him a peck. and then another. and another. until it melted into something more heated.

you didn't even try to fight for dominance as you submitted yourself to him. god, how can someone taste just so addicting? he's already feeling a semi grow the moment small mewls and moans come spilling out of your lips. the kiss breaks off as soon as he starts feeling your nails dig into his arm, signaling that you need to breathe.

"you've had too much to drink, how about we head home already?" he whispered to your ear, sending chills down. you only absentmindedly nodded at kuroo and proceeded to let him lead you. it was so endearing how much you trusted him. you didn't even question why he was bringing you over to his place instead of yours, already used to waking up on his bed with legs slightly sore but a smile and thanks as kuroo supposedly kept you safe.

you really had trusted him too much. it makes him want to just lock you up, keep you hidden from the rest of the world. it's so so tempting in all honesty, especially as he could be the only one to taint you. no, he should be the only one who can corrupt you. he is and will be the only one who stains your purity.

and he'll make sure of that.

who else can make your body elicit such reactions from just foreplay, if not him? who else can make your mind blank with thoughts of only him and pleasure? who else can make pure, delicate and oh-so-innocent you moan and say such sinful words?

it was addicting. being able to taint you over and over again. it's so cute how each time he does this, the look you give when you first see his cock is always the same, a mix of awe, anticipation and maybe even horror. he knows you were wondering if he can even fit but he already knew the answer.

a small plea leaves your mouth as he rubs his tip against your heat, collecting slick as he goes back and forth from your entrance. he chuckles as he can already see your mind go into overdrive from the teasing.

"please what kitten? i can't hear you."

"put... put it in, please, tetsuro."

"it? be more specific. and besides isn't this your first time, we should take it slow." he whispers to your ear in response. you let out a small hitch as at this point, he had aligned his cock right at your entrance already. he gave your thigh a squeeze as he watches your body squirm, eyes saying he won't let up until you say what he wants you to say.

"your cock! please! i'm begging you i'm ready just pleasepleaseplease-" you trail off as he lets the tip in, your body already welcoming it greedily. he watches your expression twist into that of pain, pleasure, confusion, and lust.

"your wish is my command, my love."

kuroo lets out a hiss as he pushes more of his length in, your walls already squeezing against him. it amazes him, how tight you still are. his hands grip your hips, keeping you in place as the sensation of him filling you to the brim was too much.

"t-tetsu- oh my god. pull.. pull out please you can't-" tears start forming as your former thoughts of you being able to take all of him dissipated. he quickly starts kissing you with fervor, swallowing your cries as he continues his actions, stretching you out entirely.

this was definitely one of his favorite parts from this regimen. the sight of you under him looking so small, tears streaming down your pretty face with his cock balls deep in you. if he could snap a photo to preserve this moment, he would. but he settles to commiting it to memory instead. its not like he needs a photo when he's seen you make this same face each time he makes love to you.

but soon enough, he can feel you tightening around him, confusion further settling in your face even more as the pain slowly fades into something else.

"see kitten, it's fine. you can take me. your body is all ready, adjusted to my cock so quick. like it was made to be fucked by me." his hips start thrusting into you, setting a slow and dragging pace at first. making sure you feel every vein, every inch of his cock.

"look at you, already making such a slutty face just from this pace? first time taking a dick but your pussy is so fucking eager, sucking me right back in." you could only moan from the dirty words that come tumbling from your boyfriend's mouth, hips starting to buck up into him, wanting to feel more.

he tutted and pulled out, a whine escaping you instantaneously. with little to no effort, he flipped your body over on your knees, his hand grabbing your hair and pulling your back to an arc. his length already probing back at your entrance and without warning, slamming back inside you with full force. a rough pace replacing the sensual one from before.

"i was taking it slow since this is your supposed first time, but you're such a whore aren't you? you really want to get fucked that badly? you really want to feel just how ruined you can get?" he asked but your mind couldn't form anything comprehensive from the way he was treating you. only your moans, his low groans and grunts and the lewd sound of skin slapping can be heard.

ah, how much he had loved this part as well. every single time he starts out slow, fully knowing just how needy you'd be from the aphrodisiac and foreplay, you'd always start begging to be fucked into oblivion. and who was he to deny the desires of his goddess?

he starts leaving open-mouth kisses to your body, careful not to leave any marks because as much as he wants to, he didn't want you to find out what happened the next morning. one hand trails up to play with your breasts and give your neglected nipple the much needed attention it wants. the other hand slithers down from your hips to your clit, causing a sharp inhale from you.

"fuck, you take me so well. even on your actual first time with me back then, you've done such a good job too. and still so tight- ah- i can't count how many times i've fucked you raw like this." his words were barely registering in your head as you start to feel lightheaded from the overdrive of pleasure and lust he's put you in.

"you forgot, but your body clearly didn't. you're so fucking wet, you're dripping onto my bedsheets. did you really miss my cock that much? you missed it didn't you? tell me how much you missed it." he prods as his hand comes back to your hips and helps you meet him halfway into the thrusts.

"i- ah fuck- missed you and your cock so so so much tetsu it feels so- oh! - good to have it in me again!"

"tell me how much you want it- no- need it, kitten."

"you t-taste so good- oh god! - i don't know how i lived without your cock before. it's so- ah! - thankyouthankyouthankyou!" you exclaimed as he pressed his chest flush against your back and brings his lips close to your ear.

"such a whore i've turned you into. you were such a good girl too, pure like white, just waiting for me to taint and stain. and now you're a cock-loving slut. all for me. my cock-loving slut. my perfect little kitten. my goddess to corrupt."

he starts leaving kisses all over your cheek until you turn your head and meet his lips with heat, saliva dribbling down the corner of your mouth as your hands travels up. one to entangle in his hai and the other to start playing with your nipple. you can feel it, the twisting and tightening of something like a knot in you.

then you start seeing stars, as kuroo hits a certain spot in you. a whole new wave of pleasure crashing into you as he keeps hitting the same spot repeatedly. and soon enough, his name starts tumbling out of your mouth like a mantra, a prayer. and the knot snapped.

he lets out a curse as you trap him in a vice-like grip, stars dancing your vision as you moan out his name. your body goes limp and leans onto kuroo's for support as he holds you up, hips still bucking into you.

"tetsuro- a-ah! - it hurts! fuck p-please no more i'm-" you protest as the overstimulation kicks in.

"it's okay kitten. you'll be okay. just one more, you can take one more. you'll be a good girl right? for me?"

he chooses to ignore your pleas and opted to leave kisses on your neck as tears start to wellin your eyes from the pain, mind screaming that enough. but he knows you'll be enjoying yourself soon, you always did.

and soon enough, you feel yourself melt back into his ministrations and submit into the lust, a high derived from the pain and pleasure nearing. he can feel himself reaching his high as well, the pace becoming erratic. then it became too much, your back arcing and your vision nearly going white as you drawl out his name, your walls clenching around him, and he couldn't pull out in time.

"ah! ah shit- fuck kitten! shitshitshit-" he cursed as his hips sputter into you, hands gripping hard on your hips, pulling your body closer into him. you were too good to him, milking his cock dry streak after streak. he hasn't cummed this hard for a long time, and he was sure every inch of your womb was painted with his seed. but as much as he loves the feeling of filling you up, he doesn't know if you're on the pill.

once the orgasms died down, he pulled out, a thick, heavy flow of his cum leaking out. and fuck, kuroo would be lying if the sight of your fucked out body under him bathing in the afterglow as his seed pours out of you didn't make his dick twitch.

rolling your body over right side up, he bends down and starts leaving a trail of kisses from your lips down to your abdominal area, eliciting small whines and mewls from you.

giving one last kiss atop your womb, he meets your eyes with a loving gaze. well, he supposes you getting pregnant from this isn't so bad.

he just has to make sure you remember your next time.

[damn-stark]

Sweet Creature

Jean Kirstein x reader

Request by anon “(This is my first time doing this so im not too sure if this is right sorry) But for you Jean requests could you do one where the reader thinks they’re just an acquaintance to him because they think he likes Mikasa but after Marco dies he can’t sleep and comes to the reader and just falls asleep with them, on their lap or something and from then on he kinda tails them like a little puppy because he can only sleep when he’s near them? Sorry if that’s a lot haha”

A/N- this is my first aot imagine, I hope you all like it :)

Warning- angst and...fluff

———-

Was it ridiculous to be petty and jealous over something so miniscule as your crush liking someone else? Knowing that as much as you tried, he would only see you as a simple friend and nothing else; because he seemed to have eyes just for one girl?

And sure, him liking Mikasa was reasonable, she was beautiful and spectacular when it came to fighting. Who wouldn’t crush on her?

“Hey! Hey!”

But would Jean ever see you like he saw Mikasa?

“HEY!”

Suddenly someone shakes your shoulders and pulls you from your stupor. The sudden action making you jump and rip your eyes away from Jean who sat on the other side of the porch talking with Mikasa, to look over your shoulder to spot that it was Sasha, who had so suddenly and rudely startled you.

“Sasha?! What the hell?!” You exclaim whilst you grab onto your chest.

Said girl shrugs nonchalantly as she sits at your side. “You didn’t answer the first time I called out to you, I had to pull your attention somehow—” Sasha pauses to take a bite of one piece of bread in her hand, proceeding to chew quickly to swallow her food and continue talking. “I snatched two pieces of bread, want one?”

You shake your head and her eyes glow with joy.

“Good,” she interjects happily, “I was hoping you’d say that.”

You roll your eyes and glance Jean’s way one last time, this time actually meeting his gaze as he looks your way at the same time.

It was unexpected and caught you by surprise, but you don’t let yourself freeze, you feel your eyes widen and a burning heat grow on your face, but you manage to tear your gaze away and jump out of your seat with Sasha in hand to escape your awkward moment, (self made awkward moment).

So much for not making yourself so obvious—idiot.

“Careful!” Sasha exclaims, “my bread!”

——

Maybe it would’ve been easier to get eaten by a titan today. It would’ve helped you from having to experience that awkward moment with Jean.

What if he found out you liked him? What does he think?

No, he couldn’t possibly know, it was just simple eye contact...but what if you running off like an idiot gave that away?

No, no…..you’re thinking too much into this...Jean doesn’t know anything...he just sees you as a friend…

You put your blades down on your lap and exhale loudly, proceeding to shove your head in your hands and expressing a groan.

The only reason you somehow stop overthinking today's events, is when you hear your name called out by the front door. When you look up, your eyes slightly widen at the sight of Jean coming in.

“Are you okay?” He asks with a lifted brow.

You nod and put your blades back where they belong, showing him a shy smile while you watch him walk towards you.

“Couldn’t sleep either?” He probes as he sits on the empty space on the ground beside you.

“Hardly,” you shake your head. “It’s been hard to really sleep for the past five years now.”

Jean sighs. “Yeah.” He pauses slightly before continuing. “What are you doing here all alone?”

You shrug and study the empty and abandoned cabin. “Sasha, Connie and I like to come here when we have time to talk. Since I couldn’t sleep I decided to come here just to clear my mind.”

Jean hums as a response, making you turn your head to look at him, watching as he keeps his gaze focused on the lamp that sat out in front of the both of you. Since he didn’t talk back you continue and point out what you notice. “But you, it looks like you haven’t slept in days.”

“I can’t.”

“Well you should,” you add, trying to hide the fact that your cheeks were burning again at the simple sight of him and of what you intended to say to him. “I wouldn’t want you lacking on the battlefield and getting eaten because you’re exhausted.”

Jean lips tug into a smile.

A smile that makes your heart flutter and look away so he wouldn’t catch on to such an affect.

“I’ll manage,” Jean says in a cocky tone, unbeknownst to you, turning his head to look at you to continue. “Plus I have you watching my back and well,” he looks away from you and shrugs nonchalantly as he leans back. “I’m a great fighter.”

“Oh,” you scoff lightheartedly, “and how do you plan on continuing to be a great fighter if you don’t sleep?”

“Like Mikasa, out of sheer will.”

This time you chuckle and shake your head at his comment. “I don’t think Mikasa is such a great role model because I don’t think she’s actually human.”

Jean chuckles, “that’s true.” He looks at you again and this time your gazes meet. “I’ll fight like you then, recklessly and bravely.” Jean shoots you a charming smile seconds after and you can’t help but feel flustered and look somewhere else.

“Well I also sleep,” you interject as you try and surpass the flustered feeling. “That’s how I’m a great fighter too.”

Jean sighs and you feel his stare rip away from your face. He lets silence cover the both of you before he hesitantly decides to reply. “It’s hard to…”he pauses to swallow thickly. “...it’s hard to sleep after Marco died. Everytime I close my eyes to try and sleep I see him and after that it’s impossible to sleep.”

At his comment you instantly feel bad for being so insistent. You should’ve kept your mouth shut instead and just let him be, he seemed that he was having a good time and you just ruined it.

Idiot.

Regardless and knowing there was no way to actually smoothly avoid this conversation, you exhale deeply and speak your mind. “I’m sorry, I knew you guys were great friends, I’m sorry I brought it up.”

“Hey.” Jean quickly interjects, “it’s not your fault,” he assures you.

“Still,” you sigh, “I’m sorry. I can’t imagine how it might feel. If I lost Sasha, Connie, any of our friends, or you…” you feel your face and neck burn but you continue without stopping. “...like that, I wouldn’t know what to do.” You frown sadly and feel your eyes sting with threatening tears. You want to be hopeful, but talking of such a deep and hurting subject makes it hard to feel anything nice. Even if you hardly knew Marco, talking about what happened, about how it’s a possibility to experience that pain yourself, it aches your heart. It’s a concept you’d never get used to.

“Buts that’s why we’re doing this right?” Jean reassures you softly, “fighting? To stop those monsters one step at a time.”

You blink to look at him and can’t help the soft smile that tugs on your lips. “Yeah, you’re right.”

Silence again invades the room as neither of you speak after. Just let your eyes linger on one another in the silence, neither knowing what to exactly do next. You notice Jean's gaze fall further down your face and moments later blinking to meet your gaze for a few seconds before they fall further down again—You don’t comment on it, just copy what he had done, blinking down to look at his lips and begin to lean in like he was doing.

But before anything could continue or develop, you both seem to pull away.

How could two people kiss after talking about such a deep topic?

It wasn’t the right time even if you so badly wanted to.

All you could do was hope you could continue some other time and actually accomplish what you both intended to do just now.

Worrying for his well-being however, wasn’t something you had to wait to do later.

“Burt really, Jean you should try to sleep for just a bit.”

Said boy groans and nods his head. “Fine, fine, I’ll try.” He continues to look around the empty room and only scoff. “But there isn’t anywhere to sleep.”

“Your bed? In your cabin?” You suggest with your brows furrowed

“No,” he complains, “I won’t sleep there.”

“Fine, then just sleep here. You can rest your head on my lap, or my shoulder if you want.”

Jean eyes lock with your own and he part his lips to speak, but pauses momentarily, showing his sudden flustered expression before he quietly decides to continue. “Okay.” He looks away from you and stays in his same position for a moment, hesitating to move—“okay.” He repeats while he remains still another second before moving to lay his head on your lap. In that moment, staying quiet and stiff. Only daring to speak to complain once he managed to regain his ability to speak. “But you’ll see I can’t sleep.”

You roll your eyes and even if your stomach was doing flips, and your heart was madly thumping in your chest from your shared moment; you instinctively and slowly move your hand to interlace your fingers between his hair, slowly beginning to comb through it and feeling his body almost instantly ease at your touch.

Jean doesn’t comment on what you were doing, or move away because he didn’t seem to like it. In fact he stays with his head on your lap, moving one hand to rest it on your knee and gently stroke it with his thumb. Continuing not to say anything even after that.

The only sound that he managed to share was his soft snoring minutes later.

It makes you smile softly and feel your heart flutter some more.

Compared to what you experienced this morning, this felt like a dream. It was definitely something you never thought you’d do, or ever want it to stop. You enjoyed this. Not only because you’ve had a crush on this boy for years, but because it’s such a good and sweet moment. Even with all this chaos.

You never wanted this moment to stop.

——

“I told him to get lost if he didn’t like how I was,” Sasha tells Connie and you smugly, “it’s not my fault he can’t handle me being stronger than he is.”

Connie scoffs, “you said that?”

“Uh,” Sasha scratches the back of her neck and laughs nervously, “yes?”

Without looking at one another, Connie and you begin to burst out laughing, continuing to just mindlessly walk forward with no real destination. Hearing Sasha ramble and try to stop you two from continuing to tease her. But she's not successful, not until Jean’s voice calls out to you. “Y/N! wait for me.”

You stop and look over your shoulder to see said boy rushing towards you with a grin that made Connie and Sasha giggle. Albeit Sasha stops when Jean pushes her to the side to squeeze between you and her.

“Hey. Excuse you.”

Jean ignores Sasha’s comment and focuses on you. “What are you doing? We’re supposed to be stationed to wait for orders.”

You scoff, “yeah we are, but Connie, Sasha and I got bored,”

“So we're pretending to do something so we don’t die of boredom and Sasha doesn’t take all our rations.” Connie finishes for you.

You nod in agreement and express an amused huff of air, turning to look at Jean to question his decision to tag along. “What about you? Aren’t you busy?”

Jean shakes his head, “no that’s why I came to you.”

“Hey,” Sasha inputs, breaking the lingering gaze Jean and you shared. “I saw you two walk out of the abandoned cabin this morning,” her eyebrows quirks and she smirks, “what were you two doing?”

You feel a heat grow on your cheeks as well as feel yourself get flustered. You shrug and relieve her curiosity with a response she didn’t expect. “We were just talking.” You fiddle with your fingers and whisper, “and sleeping.”

“Huh?” Connie probed with a shit eating grin of his own.

You shoot him a raging side eye and kindly repeat yourself. “Talking.”

Connie scoffs and covers his mouth so he wouldn’t laugh, quickening his pace and going to Sasha to pull her back with him whilst he threw a dismissing comment over his shoulder. “We’ll catch up later, we have something to...do.” Without the need to say more they basically run away from Jean and you, finally letting out the laugh that was so hard for them to keep in before. As well as finally letting Jean solely focus on you.

“I was thinking, what if we went snuck back to the cabin tonight?”

You feel your eyebrows knit together and your lips part in the sudden surprise you felt at his suggestion—and it’s not because you didn’t want to go back, but because you didn’t think he would. It just completely catches you by surprise. You’re left stammering your words. “I-I, uhm. Do you really want to?”

Jean scratches the back of his head and nods, trying to hide the fact that he was blushing. “Yeah, last night was the first time I managed to get a good amount of sleep in such a long time. All no thanks to you.”

“Hmm,” you hum while you also smile sweetly. “Well I’m glad and I’d love to go back.”

Jean again shoots you a charming grin and you swear you could melt in the spot.

——

As night came, that second time turned into a third and a forth, the fifth night you didn’t end up going back, but he found a way to sleep near you. During the day it was the same in the matter that he hardly left your side, Jean would follow you around like a little child would follow their parent, or a dog with their owner. It was weird. Yet not annoying, just weird because you weren’t really used to it, or really him at all. You never thought you’d get this kind of attention from him, it’s sweet, but still a little weird.

Connie and Sasha definitely thought it was annoying though.

“Y/N, where’s your little dog?” Sasha asks you, making you slowly turn your head to shoot her a confused stare.

“What are you talking about?”

Connie leans in and continues for Sasha. “Your boyfriend, Jean?”

“Oh,” you mouth as your eyes widen and you choke on your own saliva. “He’s,” you cough out, “he’s not my boyfriend.”

Sasha scoffs, “yeah right, he follows you around like if he was one. It’s annoying. If you guys are doing stuff just tell us, we won’t judge.”

You raise and brow and ask, “is that so?”

“Absolutely.” Sasha shrugs nonchalantly. “The only thing we do judge is him following you around like a dog. It’s annoying,” Sasha repeats. “I’m actually surprised he’s not here now.”

“Yeah,” Connie agrees, “I like Jean and all, but I’m glad he’s not glued to you at the moment.”

“Like a horse.” Sasha adds before chuckling, causing Connie to laugh along with her, at a joke that didn’t even make sense, leaving you to tune them out and also go unaware of Jean listening in and getting the wrong idea.

And going throughout the entire day without ever approaching like he would the days before. Just like that night when you went to the cabin, he failed to go and left you waiting for him; just like the next two days and nights. He didn’t speak to you, or actually ever cross your path, he avoided you at every chance he could.

His sudden avoidance without an explanation left you confused and hurt, distant in conversations with your friends that you usually liked to share your opinion on. Your two best friends noticed of course, but you didn’t want to share much beside the simple detail that; he was probably just busy, (even if you did the same job at the same place).

You want to look for him, to get some relief on your questions, but again it seems like he’s avoiding you—It’s not until the third day just as the sun was setting, did it dawn on you what could’ve caused such a sudden cut off; Jean probably heard Connie, Sasha and you talking about him.

That or he simply didn’t want to talk to you anymore.

Hopefully it’s the latter though.

All you did know was that you needed to talk to him. So you kept trying to search for him, knowing you’d cross paths again, after all there wasn’t much he could do to completely avoid you. Even if so far he’s been good at hiding within the perimeters you were allowed to travel.

Making your search seem infinite.

All until night completely overtook the remainder of the day did that belief break and you finally saw him outside of the assigned cabin he temporarily stayed in—at first he didn’t notice you, not until minutes later when he felt your stare did he lift his head to make eye contact with you. Albeit he was quick to duck his head and start trying to walk off.

Not like it stopped you, you rushed over to him in time and pulled him back down to his seat across the table.

“Ah,” he complained, “careful.”

You scoff, “Jean? What the hell? Where have you been?”

He pulls his hand away and continues trying to avoid your gaze, answering in a quiet and grumpy voice that matches the scowl expressed on his face. “Here, where else would I be?”

You part your lips to answer, but no words come out, just the sound of your drawed in breath comes out. Something you proceed to quietly breathe out before blinking to look at your hand on the table, noticing his hand wasn't at his side, but still resting inches from yours.

You don’t point it out however, you just notice it and continue with what you’ve been waiting to say. “Then why have you been avoiding me? I waited for you like you told me and you never came. You haven’t talked to me since then either.”

Even if he seemed to be mad at you, he stayed to listen to you. He was good that way. He always listened.

“You should know why.” He mumbled, pulling your gaze once again to look at him and shoot him puzzled looks.

“If I did, I wouldn’t be asking now would I?” You retort with an added glare. “If you don’t want to talk to me, or be my friend, just tell me, Jean.”

Finally said man slides his eyes to finally meet your gaze. Expressing instant confusion at the sound of your comment and hesitating for a few seconds to reply. Just taking time to search your face with a widened, perplexed expression. Choosing not to press you to further explain yourself and instead pretending to still be upset. “Well if you don’t want to talk to me, just say so.”

You scoff, “what are you talking about?”

“I heard you,” he reveals softly, dropping his gaze once again. “Talking to Connie and Sasha. If I annoy you, just tell me and I’ll stop bothering you.”

At his words your face softens and you reach to take his hand in yours, not hesitating to assure him. “You don’t annoy me, Jean. I like having you around, I like talking to you. If it wasn’t obvious...” you pause at the feeling of your face burning and your heart thumping in your chest. You could hardly believe you were about to reveal what you’ve felt for years, and you were beginning to sway yourself not to say a word. But you needed to. It was time. “...I..like you.”

Jean's gaze instantly flies to you and you notice a blush grow on his cheeks through the light of the lamp on the table. He doesn’t speak, instead he pulls his hand away to stand up from his seat to walk off. You’re about to argue and follow after him, but he walks around the table to sit besides you. Relieving the panic you were starting to feel at his actions.

“I knew that.” He counters smugly.

You scoff and shake your head. “No you didn’t.”

“Did so.”

“Regardless,” you smile. “I don’t mind the nights we shared. I like them, they feel comforting.”

Jean lips finally tug into a wider smile before he wraps his arm around your shoulders, letting you rest your head on his shoulder so he could rest his head on top of yours.

Lastly assuring you with a comment you didn’t think you’d ever hear in a soft whisper. “I like you too.”

[hargrove-mayfields]

Day one of the Horror on Cherry Lane Challenge! I’ll be participating this month as a writer! The prompt for today is Knife!

warnings for mentions of suicidal ideation and attempts, death, child abuse, and blood.

Billy met Steve in the psych ward.

Well, they met officially at Tina’s party, but that wasn’t the real Steve. That was the King Steve. Deeper than that though, even the Steve Harrington everyone else saw even after the breakup and the fall from grace still wasn’t the real thing.

That was fake smiles, overdone nonchalance to cover up the wound from his fallen status. Now he was stripped down to himself, all bloody bandages and tired eyes, the boy he was pretending to be finally broken down to reveal this.

Apparently, Ruthie Harrington found her son with his grandfather's switchblade- all the other objects in the house sharper than a spoon and with less sentimental value had already been tossed -bleeding all over her freshly polished linoleum floors. She dropped him off at the hospital a night ago and nobody’s been by to see him since.

Now, it’s by pure coincidence that Billy’s already in on the same day Steve’s admitted.

He’s been locked up the past three days compared to Steve’s one. These small town hicks are jumpier (ha) than he thought, and don’t think doing the walk and turn test on the edge of the quarry after downing a bottle and a half of fireball is as funny as he does. Whatever. Cid would’ve thought that was badass as hell.

So he was admitted, on suicide watch for a stupid joke that wasn’t really worth it, or even really a joke. Max came to visit once. She punched him in the chest as hard as she could and cursed him out for an hour. She’d never done that before. By the time she left they were both in tears, and maybe Billy realized a thing or too about his carelessness. Realized for the first time that someone cared.

But he’s still in here for another week and a half by law, so. He’s not going to mope about it. And while Steve Harrington showing up is about the last thing he’s expecting, he decides that’s at least something he can work with. Definitely brings a little life to the place.

He waits until Steve’s intense watch period is over to bug him, once they’re out of their cramped little rooms for a couple of hours to “socialize” (see, the more sound of mind keep an eye on the other patients while the nurses take their smoke breaks) Billy goes straight to Steve. Him and Harrington are far from friends, but that’s pretty much irrelevant when the only other choices for company are kids younger than them too scared to approach them and people too deep in their midlife crises to bother with teenage drama.

Throwing himself down in the blue plastic chair across from where Steve settled in, Billy kicks his feet up on the table,, “What’s up Harrington? Didn’t expect to see a familiar face in here.”

But Steve, poor Steve, takes one look at Billy with those haunted brown eyes, and his face just falls completely apart. There are tears on his way too pale cheeks before Billy even has a chance to breathe.

The smile drops off of Billy’s face, “Jesus Harrington, I know m’not looking my best surviving on hospital food and cigarettes without a hairbrush, but that’s a little unwarranted.”

“Shut up. Not everything’s about you, Hargrove.”

“Oh I disagree with that. But I get the point. I’ll let ya be.” Billy hums, scooting his chair back and getting up. He stops when Steve starts to speak, “Y-You outta be careful saying that kinda stuff in here.”

“What?”

“That the world revolves around you. They’ll come up with a diagnosis for that and keep you here forever. Drug you ‘til you forget your own name, let alone your status.” Steve tells him with humor, wiping the tears off his face.

Billy nods in understanding, sits back down with an interested smirk, “This ain’t your first time here, is it?”

“Is it yours?”

“Nah. I’ve done some shit on purpose, some on accident. Once it wasn’t even me. But s’never done anything to help so far.”

Steve puffs out a sigh, “Don’t I know it.. I’ve been in and outta this place since I was like, ten. Clearly nothing’s changed.”

“Why? What’s your dirty little secret, Harrington?”

“I cut myself, dumbass.” He deadpans, looking at Billy with a bluntness in his expression that reads more concerning, more like indifference to what he just said than matter-of-fact.

“No shit. But that ain’t the secret.” Billy probes further, can tell he’s getting under that mask Steve wears, “Why do you do it?”

“Legally, I can't tell you. And I don’t think I would anyways.”

“What about if I tell you all about me first? I got no reservations ‘cept the one that got me a bed here.”

“It’s not a hotel, Hargrove.”

“Eh, might as well be. Feels like the damn hotel California.”

“Is that why?”

“Huh? Oh no, I been pullin’ stunts like this long before we left Cali.”

“Like what?”

“Like downing two full bottles of my mother’s meds after she left. Not at the same time obviously, or I wouldn’t be here. Mostly ‘cause my dad didn’t even wanna take me to the hospital either time.” Billy doesn’t look at Steve while he elaborates. Not because he cares, he’s an open book, if a random old woman at the grocery store asked about his last attempt, he’d tell her.

But. He doesn’t like watching people’s faces. Seeing sympathy and concern there. It makes him feel all stupid and guilty. It’s usually not like that with other kids like him, but Steve’s different. He’s got a big heart. Even if there’s no room for himself.

And Billy hurt Steve before. He doesn’t want to see someone he caused pain caring so much about him. He already cracked when Max came to see him. This could be what splits him open, spills out all the things he’s covered up.

So he keeps going, “And like runnin’ out in front of traffic with my friends. They thought we were just playin’ chicken ‘til I stopped dead in front of a station wagon. Metal rims’d done me in for sure if one ‘a the older boys hadn’t pulled me outta the way. Damn near ripped my shirt in half how fast he grabbed me.”

“I’m guessing your parents are the reason why then?”

“Yessir.” Billy deflects, not good at getting deeper into it, “You wanna tell me yours then?”

“I started cutting because Tommy Hagan told me about it. He thought it was freaky, but when he ran his mouth about how they found the neighbor kid in his room, drained of all his blood from his wrists, I wanted to try it. I’ve tried liquor and drugs and all kinds ‘a shit I shouldn’t, but nothin’ stuck like cutting.” Steve pauses for a long time, his eyes going blank, staring right past Billy, “When my mom found out she.. she.. Forget it.”

“Hey, you seen my skeletons. Can’t I see yours?”

“No. I don’t wanna fucking talk about it anymore.” Steve answers, despite his assuredness, his tone wobbling with some unidentifiable emotion.

Talk about mood swings. Billy doesn’t get how nobody would’ve noticed something was up before Steve started carving into himself. Really, he knows someone would have seen it and just ignored it.

It only gets worse though, the reservedness turning to sadness and frustration. None of the words are coming out, but he can tell Steve’s thinking of the stories, reliving all that got him to the here and now. Billy can also tell there’s nothing he can do no to stop him from doomsdaying.

So when Steve is inevitably in the thralls of a panic attack, he tries to hug him tight, to try to get it to stop maybe, that always worked for him at least, but Steve swats him away. Judging from the way he winces, it’s not easy for him to do either, with those thick ass bandages constricting his wrists, but the tears and the pain on his face are buried behind his resolution.

He’s hiding something from Billy.

In hindsight, talking to a new patient about past attempts probably wasn’t his brightest idea anyways, so he switches the subject while Steve works on coming down from his panic attack. He brings up Max and her little nerds, trying to bridge the healthier connections between him and Steve that they’d both been ignoring since the fight. He mentions basketball too, another something they have in common other than trying to kill themselves.

It doesn’t really work, though Steve does stop shaking as bad, just curling up in his little chair and sniffling, pretending not to listen while Billy rambles on and on. But he doesn’t talk. It’s probably better for him not to anyway. Billy himself has been known to say some dumb shit when he’s in distress.

Ultimately, even once the conversation runs out, he stays with Steve until dark. He can tell from the way his gaze sticks to the floor that Steve recovered from his fit a while ago, but he’s embarrassed by having a breakdown in front of him, as if he isn’t in here for the same reason. It helps that he gets it though, and they sit in a comfortable, albeit very prolonged, silence.

Long after Steve gets xanned up and knocked out though, while Billy is still free to wander until the midnight curfew as a low risk patient, he decides to stick with him in his room. Billy’ll never admit it, but he gets nightmares, and he doesn’t want to face that just yet, so with a new friend as an excuse, he’s up half the night watching Steve sleep.

He remembers what happened earlier, how focused Steve was on keeping him away from him, despite his panic, and decides, with a glance at how deeply Steve is sleeping, his greasy hair all strewn about on stiff pillows, that he’s going to figure out what it was.

He snoops around in his bedside drawers, in the bathroom, in the locker in the corner. It’s there he notices the knitted jacket Steve was wearing before, hanging heavy to one side, like there’s something in its pocket. He touches it and feels the outline of something small, so he pulls it out.

He regrets checking though, because it’s a knife. Judging from the old looking engravings on its handle, and the coppery stains within the grooves, it’s specifically the very same one that got Steve hospitalized.

He shoves it in his own back pocket and keeps looking, with a quick glance at Steve, finding a note tucked where the knife had been. Written in perfect scrawl on bond paper that’s been folded a dozen times and stained with tears,

“Do it right next time, why don’t you? Your mother is too soft on you. I’m not paying for this again.

- J.Harrington.”

Billy doesn’t know what to do but throw the note in the trash. Not really in shock, but definitely more than a little fucked up from reading that, he sits on the end of Steve’s bed. His own dad, who'd more than once been the one putting him in the hospital, had never even said anything like that to him.

He didn’t get to talk to Steve much today, but they’ve got as long as Billy’s stuck in here together to fix that. Longer if he just pulls something in front of a nurse. And he wants to, really really wants to.

Because he knows he just met the real Steve, can recognize another broken boy when he sees one, and he knows too, that he never wants to meet a pretty boy like this again.

And if that’s his declaration to get clean, then so fucking be it.

But. He never promised not to hurt anyone. Ultimately he’d still need that outlet.

He keeps the knife. To make sure his pretty boy doesn’t get hurt again.

[cacoetheswriting]

idea of perfection

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Warnings: kinda angsty, subtle mentions of weight / body image issues Word Count: 1.3k Request: anonymous: “i was wondering if you could write something with Spencer and a plus size reader based on the song heather but please let them end up together.” A/N: so for context i made jj ‘heather’ in this fic. this kinda takes place around the first season so will isn't in the picture yet and spencer is crushing on her. hope you like it!

-

The air caught in your throat as the petite blonde entered the room. She neatly placed the latest case files on the conference table and peeked up at you; a warm grin illuminating her already perfect features. Your mouth twitched into an awkward half-smile before she turned her attention to the screen turning it on.

Your eyes however were still fixated on her. Rather on what she was wearing. A burgundy sweater you knew all too well hung loosely on her figure. Underneath, she wore a white blouse. Silk no doubt. The collar was elegantly placed around the ruff making the colour of the sweater pop even more.

There was no denying JJ looked great, like an off-duty runway model. When you were lucky enough to wear that exact same burgundy garment that one afternoon it clung to your body tightly, you were afraid you might stretch it out on him. You glanced down at your stomach and sighed quietly.

A million questions raced through your mind. Why was JJ wearing that? Where did she get it? Did he give it to her? Obviously he must have, that was the only logical explanation, but why did he give it to her. Why? Why-

The young doctor entered the briefing room and immediately breaking you away from your thoughts. Sitting up straight in your chair you watched as Spencer sat down across from you, his eyes glued to JJ. The two of them exchanged soft smiles. He complimented her awkwardly, pointing at the sweater. Her smile widened. “Thanks Spence. And thank you for letting me borrow it.”  

The lump in your throat grew tighter with every passing second. It was clear that the blonde cared about him deeply. Whether her feelings were romantic or platonic no-one really knew but either way you couldn't compete with JJ. A sight for sore eyes. Brighter than the blue sky. You stood no chance. It made you want to curl into a ball and cry.

“You have to just come clean Y/N.” Elle whispered as the two of you walked out of the briefing. “Are you crazy?” You muttered back. “Babe, you will never know until you try.” “I do know. He likes her.” Elle shrugged. “I know in my gut that the pretty doctor has his eyes set on you.” “You’re delusional.” “You’re delusional.” She walked around her desk, reaching underneath for her things. You rolled your eyes playfully at the brunette and proceeded to grab your own go-bag before the two of you headed for the elevator together. 

Elle has been your friend since day one. Your ‘partner and confidant’ as she calls it. She is the only person on the team that knows your true feelings towards Spencer. Sworn to secrecy, she nudges you a little everyday to ask him out. Encourages you to make small talk with the young doctor, sit next to him at the bar during afterwork drinks or on the jet - which is exactly what she prompted you to do when stepping onto the aircraft.

She nudged you gently, yet effectively, making you stumble into the free seat beside Spencer.  

“Hi.” “Hello.” He greeted you with a warm smile. It made your heart skip a beat.

“What are you reading?” You asked, pointing to the book in his lap. He showed you the front cover before answering. “The Lucifer Effect by Philip Zimbardo.” “What’s it about?” You probed while making yourself comfortable. “It explores why good people can be convinced to act evil and where the line is really drawn between good and bad. It also gives an excellent insight into the power of roles and group identity, and how humans can become cruel very quickly in the right situation.”  

Trying to get a quick scan of the page Spencer was currently on, you leaned towards him. It wasn’t until he stopped talking that you realised how suddenly close the two of you were. Nervously, you looked up to find he was already looking at you. 

“W-well-” You cleared your throat. “Be sure to let me know if it’s worth the read when you’re finished.” Spencer nodded, still looking at you. “I suspect I’ll have just enough time to make a coffee.” You joked awkwardly hoping he’d laugh. He did. 

“If eh- if you make me one too I can summarise the book for you.” 

“It’s a date.” 

It took you a second to register the sentence that has just come out of your mouth. You bit your tongue, eyes wide with horror. But Spencer didn't seem to mind, maybe he misunderstood what you meant. Or maybe he didn't realise that you said it because in that moment Morgan slumped down across from you. 

“So pretty boy, couldn't help but notice that JJ was wearing your favourite sweater this morning.” Spencer’s eyes darted from you to Derek. You took note of the slight reddish blush greeting the young doctors facial features. Nervously, he cleared his throat.“I let her borrow it.” “Nice one kid!” Morgan exclaimed with a grin as you sulked back into your seat; heart aching.

The rest of the day flew by in the blink of an eye. It was suddenly two in the morning and the whole team was heading back to the hotel, all equally exhausted. 

As usual you were bunking with Elle who called dibs on the bathroom and disappeared the moment you set foot inside your room. Through the wall, you could hear the shower being switched on accompanied by Elle’s not so quiet humming. 

There was a knock on the door breaking you away from listening to the concert Elle was performing. With a smile on your face, you headed to open it. The young doctor greeted you on the other side. 

“Spencer, what are you doing here?” 

He held up the book he was reading earlier. “I’m here for our date.” 

You blinked - did you hear that correctly? “I-uh” “It-It’s late I know, but I eh didn't want you thinking I stood you up.” With a raised brow, you stepped out into the hall closing the door behind you. You couldn’t tell whether he was being serious. Obviously not, right? 

“Spencer, I was just kidding around.” You lied, instantly regretting it. His face fell. “Oh, I’m sorry Y/N. I’ll eh I’m just gonna go.” He hesitated briefly before turning on his heel to walk away. “Goodnight Y/N.” 

The young doctor began to stride down the hall. You cursed quietly as Elle’s comment to ‘come clean’ flashed like an alert in your head. 

“Spencer wait!” 

He froze and immediately turned back to look in your direction. Taking a deep breath, you took a couple of steps towards him. He did the same and the two of you met in the middle. 

“I lied, I wasn’t kidding. I would love to go on a date with you.” Anxiously, you pulled at the hem of your shirt as you continued on. There were tears forming in your eyes. “But then I think, why would you ever want to go out with someone like- like me. Someone who looks like me when you could easily be with the perfect petite JJ. Why would you ever kiss me? I'm not even half as pretty. She’s perfect and, well, I’m not.” 

Finally, you mustered up the courage to look up from your feet and meet his inviting soft gaze. “The idea of perfection is outdated in my opinion.” Spencer stated while taking a step forward so that you were now standing chest to chest.

“Imagine looking at a rainbow and complaining that one of the colours wasn't perfect. That be ridiculous, yet it’s exactly what humans do when we judge ourselves for our imperfections. We forget that as humans we are also part of nature and therefore should fall into acceptance of the natural state of life which happens to be imperfect.” 

Slowly, and slightly awkwardly, the young doctor lifted his hand to cup your cheek. You leaned into his warm touch without hesitation. “H-however to me Y/N,” He paused. “, y-you are perfect.” 

-

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