#random cell phone shots

[theheartofappalachia]

Into the unknown

[gay-dorito-dust]

Two immortal duo consist og Wade and Logan, now add a gremlin isekai reader who is worse than the two combined. Dumbaßs duo + no sel preservation gremlin🙂

Literally the definition of dumb, dumber and Dumbest.

There’s not a single working brain cell between you, Wade and Logan and it shows. With how often Logan and Wade were at each others throats with you egging the pair on, needless to say it was a mystery how you managed to live as long as you have, superpowers put aside and all that.

Where chaos wasn’t anywhere to be found, you were there to create it tenfold without taking your own safety into consideration, and for that alone was the main reason why your close death encounters was terrifyingly well within the double digits.

Random villain: do you have a death wish or something?

Reader: depends on the situation and how I’m feeling at the time.

Logan : comes with the territory at this point.

Wade: is it wrong to want to feel something as deeply as a knife in your gut?

Random villain:…have any of you considered therapy.

You, Wade and Logan aren’t the best influences on each other, if anything it was the exact opposite. Anything that was remotely dangerous it seemed as though Wade developed the mentality of a teenager and would dare either you or Logan to do it.

Logan says no almost immediately but you say ‘bet’ and we’re dead set on proving Wade wrong, only for Logan to grab you by the collar of your shirt and drag you away from the dangerous situation, all the while you pout and cross your arms over your chest. ‘I never get to do anything fun.’ You mutter under your breath.

Logan would shoot you a glare. ‘You’ve got a fucked up definition of fun if you thought swimming with electric eels as fun.’

You shrugged. ‘It could’ve been had I was given the chance, but unfortunately someone,’ you glared back at him, ‘is a fucking buzzkill.’ Logan ignores you as Wade goes and strips himself down and swims with the electric eels instead, much to your dismay.

You once dared Wade to draw on Logan’s face once when he was asleep -bad decision on his behalf, especially when you and Wade were involved- with marker pen once and needless to say there was a lot of dicks being drawn and Wade ending up with several -healing- wounds to the head.

‘I technically said to not get clawed by Logan.’ You told him as you watched with morbid interest as the wounds in his head closed up one by one.

‘So what you’re saying is I didn’t win.’ Wade asked.

‘Not by a long shot.’ You replied.

Wade sighs as he fiddled with his baby hands. Yes Logan cut off both his hands as well for good measure. ‘This fucking sucks!’

You patted him on the back reassuringly. ‘There, there.’

Logan is technically the more level headed of all three of you, but that was putting it lightly given how quickly his temper was to rise at the slightest inconvenience, however considering how you and Wade could be in general it was best to have someone who’d wrangle you both in from time to time.

Wade: *opens your bedroom door to utter darkness, the light of your phone illuminating your face*

You. *hissing* get the fuck out scrotum face or I’ll shove your swords up your ass and through your head!

Wade: *closes the door and looks at Logan* no matter what you do, don’t feed that fucking thing after midnight.

Bonus; you probably adopt like three rats, two raccoons and a possum and claim them as your babies and Logan and Wade wouldn’t even bat an eye.

[m4rv3l-girl]

Bucky x hydra reader

Reader was tortured by hydra and the whole time reader was there, she wasn't allowed to speak or even make a noise, but after reader got rescued by the avengers, she kept silent for a while and eventually came outta her shell! And spoke constantly but the avengers didn't mind because it made her happy and then bucky moved into the compound and when you met him your whole body started to get goosebumps and heart eyes and you found yourself attached to bucky and constantly talking his ear off about random things and questions about the 40s but he answered plainly and basic answers to your questions, you grew on him but he never told you that, just kept acting. One day steve and buck were in the Kitchen and steve mentioned about bucky warming up to you and Bucky shot back instantly that he isn't, he doesn't understand why you talk so much and why him, little did they know reader was making her way to the super soldier to show him a cat video on her phone and she overheard him, and she felt all the torture coming back from hydra, and she decided not to speak to him or anyone again in fear of annoying them. Days passed and reader still hadn't said a word and bucky kept trying to get you to speak but he kept failing. He eventually asked steve why you stopped and he explained about the hydra torture and the not allowed to speak. And bucky felt instant regret because he secretly loved your voice. And that night he found you sitting in the compound garden and kept pestering you to speak and he says "doll I need to hear your voice" "the silence from you is driving him crazy" and he admits his feelings and how he just said that so steve wouldn't figure out that he likes you.

Idk how to end it but, that's the basis of the idea👀

The Voice that was Gone

Warnings: Language. Mentions of conditioning. Angst.

The Avengers Compound was more like a sanctuary than a home for her. Y/N had been brought there not long after her rescue from Hydra’s cold, lifeless grip. The halls were wide and bright, the complete opposite of the sterile cells and dark corridors she had endured. At first, silence was her only language—a deeply ingrained reflex from the years Hydra had stolen from her. They hadn’t just stolen her freedom; they’d stripped her of her voice, her autonomy, her right to express even the smallest whimper of pain or protest.

In the beginning, no one pushed her to speak. Steve and Natasha were the first to meet her at the compound, their eyes kind but not pitying. Tony had cracked a joke to ease the tension, but she’d only offered him a faint smile, one she wasn’t sure he saw. They understood that healing wasn’t linear.

They gave her space, and, for that, she was grateful.

Gradually, the silence cracked.

It started with small things—a muttered “thank you” when Sam passed her a glass of water, or a quiet laugh when Wanda demonstrated her magic tricks to cheer her up. With every word, the weight on her chest eased. By the time a month had passed, the words were spilling out in torrents. She would ramble about anything—ask Clint endless questions about archery, debate with Steve about music from the 40s, and share random tidbits about the books she was devouring from the compound’s extensive library.

The team never minded. They smiled when her chatter filled the room, indulging her curiosity and taking comfort in the way her laughter brightened the once-silent corners of the compound. It was her healing, and they were all proud to see her come into her own.

But then Bucky moved in.

He arrived quietly, a duffle bag slung over his shoulder, shadowed by Steve as they walked into the compound. Y/N had been in the common room, curled up on the couch with Wanda and Nat. Her eyes had flicked up from the TV to the door, and the moment she saw him, her breath hitched. The faintest trace of goosebumps prickled her arms, and she couldn’t look away.

Bucky Barnes. The Winter Soldier. He was everything she didn’t expect and everything she couldn’t explain. His presence was heavy yet quiet, his shoulders tense and his face guarded. She was drawn to him, almost instinctively, like a moth to a flame. It wasn’t just his striking looks, though those were hard to ignore—it was something deeper, something unspoken.

And just like that, Bucky became the new focus of her endless chatter.

“Bucky,” she’d call out when she saw him in the kitchen, “did they really have ration cards in the 40s? Or is that just a myth?”

“Bucky, what was the best movie you saw back then? Were the cinemas as grand as they look in pictures?”

“Bucky, did you ever try dancing the jitterbug?”

He answered, but always briefly. “Yeah, we had ration cards,” or “It was nice enough,” or “Didn’t dance much.” His clipped replies didn’t deter her, though. She followed him from room to room, her voice animated, peppering him with questions that he always answered but never elaborated on. The rest of the team noticed, too, hiding their smirks as Y/N latched onto Bucky like he was her new favorite book.

What Y/N didn’t know was that she’d gotten under his skin. Not in a bad way—not at all. At first, he was baffled by her. How could someone who had gone through the horrors she had still find it in herself to speak so freely, to laugh so openly? He wasn’t annoyed by her questions or her stories, but he didn’t know how to show her that. He didn’t know how to let her in. So, he kept his answers short, his tone neutral. He pretended her constant chatter didn’t make his chest tighten in a way he didn’t understand.

One day, as Bucky sat at the counter with Steve, sipping a cup of coffee, Steve raised an eyebrow at him. “You know, you’ve been warming up to Y/N,” Steve said casually, the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Bucky bristled. “I’m not,” he shot back almost immediately, his voice sharper than he intended. “I don’t get why she talks so much. And why me?”

Neither of them realized Y/N had wandered into the kitchen, her phone in hand, ready to show Bucky a funny cat video she’d found. The second she heard his words, though, she froze. It was like a switch flipped in her mind, Hydra’s cold grip clawing its way back to her chest.

Her fingers tightened around her phone, her breathing shallow as Bucky’s words echoed in her mind. Why me?

Her voice - her freedom to speak - suddenly felt like a burden.

She slipped away unnoticed, her appetite for laughter and conversation swallowed by the weight of his rejection. That night, she decided she wouldn’t make anyone endure her voice again.

If speaking annoyed him, then she wouldn’t speak at all.

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The silence wrapped around the compound like a suffocating fog.

At first, the team thought Y/N was just having an off day—everyone did sometimes. But as the hours stretched into days, her withdrawal became glaringly obvious. The once lively spark of her voice, her endless questions, her infectious laughter—all of it was gone. The common spaces that had brimmed with her chatter now echoed with nothingness, an eerie reminder of the energy she’d brought with her.

Steve was the first to notice something was wrong. During their morning briefing, he asked her opinion on a potential mission route, expecting her usual inquisitive response. But instead of answering, she merely nodded, her lips pressed tightly together. He frowned, exchanging a concerned glance with Natasha, who also noticed the shift.

Natasha approached her later that day, finding Y/N tucked away in the library. “Hey, what’s going on?” Nat asked gently, sitting beside her on the couch.

Y/N only shook her head, her eyes fixed on the open book in her lap. She didn’t even look up.

Nat frowned but didn’t push. Instead, she gave Y/N’s hand a comforting squeeze before leaving her to her silence. She brought it up later with Steve and Clint, both of whom admitted they’d seen the same change. Clint mentioned how Y/N used to pepper him with endless questions about his arrows during training, but now she only gave quiet nods when he tried to engage her.

Even Tony, who thrived on teasing her, found himself missing the banter. He cornered her in the kitchen one evening, holding up a gadget he’d been tinkering with. “Hey, kid, this thing shoots out tiny flaming marshmallows. Doesn’t exactly confirm to the safety regulations, but tell me that isn’t cool.”

Normally, she would’ve lit up at his antics, bombarding him with questions about how it worked or laughing at the absurdity of it. This time, she offered only a faint smile before leaving the room.

Tony stared after her, a strange pang of guilt settling in his chest. He brought it up to Bruce later that night. “She’s not laughing at my jokes, Banner. Either I’ve lost my touch, or something’s seriously wrong.”

But for Bucky, her silence was a visceral ache, something he couldn’t shake no matter how hard he tried. At first, he told himself it didn’t matter. After all, hadn’t he said to Steve that her talking too much annoyed him? Shouldn’t this be easier for him now? But the quiet wasn’t the relief he’d imagined - it was suffocating.

He found himself noticing things he’d taken for granted before. The absence of her light footsteps trailing after him. The way she used to linger in the doorway, launching into a story before he could excuse himself. The questions about the 40s that had once felt intrusive now felt like a gaping void.

It wasn’t just her voice he missed. It was her.

When days turned into a week and still, not a word, Bucky’s frustration boiled over. He cornered Steve one night in the kitchen, his tone sharper than usual. “Why isn’t she talking anymore?” he demanded, his blue eyes narrowing as Steve looked up from his coffee.

Steve’s brows furrowed, the lines on his face deepening. “I was wondering the same thing. She hasn’t said a word to anyone, not even Nat.”

“That’s what I’m saying,” Bucky pressed, running a hand through his hair. “One minute she’s talking my ear off about everything, and the next, nothing. It’s like she’s disappeared.”

“It’s like she’s back to the day we found her…” Steve muttered.

Bucky just raised an eyebrow in confusion.

Steve tilted his head, his expression softening as something clicked in his mind. “You really don’t know?” he asked gently.

Bucky’s jaw clenched, his frustration mounting. “If I knew, I wouldn’t be asking.”

Steve set his mug down carefully, folding his arms across his chest. “Hydra didn’t just hurt her physically, Buck. They broke her down. Part of their method was taking away her voice—literally. She wasn’t allowed to speak, to make a sound, for years. They conditioned her into silence.”

The words hit Bucky like a punch to the gut. He stared at Steve, his throat tightening as the implications sank in. Y/N’s voice—the one thing that had grated on his nerves when they first met—wasn’t just chatter. It was her defiance. Her freedom. And he had thrown it back in her face.

“Why the fuck didn’t anyone tell me that before?” he asked, his voice low, almost hoarse. He didn’t wait for Steve’s answer. His mind was already reeling, piecing together every moment he’d spent with her, every question he’d dismissed, every smile he’d ignored.

Regret churned in his chest, sharp and unrelenting. And for the first time in a long time, Bucky felt something dangerously close to fear. Not the kind Hydra had instilled in him, but a deeper, more personal fear—that he’d hurt someone he cared about more than he could admit.

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That fear gnawed at Bucky long into the night, keeping him wide awake in his room. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Y/N’s face—her animated expressions, the way her eyes lit up when she spoke about something that excited her, and the quiet smile she gave when he offered even the shortest response. Now, all he could see was her downcast gaze, her shoulders slumped as if she was shrinking in on herself.

By the time morning came, he’d made up his mind. He couldn’t let it stay this way. He couldn’t let her think she was anything less than appreciated. But how to fix it? That part left him at a loss.

He spent the day lurking around the common areas, hoping for a chance to talk to her. Each time he caught sight of her—curled up on the couch, wandering the compound halls, or sitting by the window—he faltered. She wasn’t just quiet; she was distant. The life and warmth she usually carried with her seemed muted, and every time he got close enough to approach her, she slipped away without a word.

Bucky was no stranger to guilt—it had been his constant companion for decades. But this guilt felt sharper, more immediate. He wasn’t sure how to face it. Not until he had to.

That evening, he found her in the garden. It was late, the moon casting a silvery glow over the compound grounds. Y/N sat on a bench near the edge of the garden, her knees pulled to her chest as she stared out at the rows of flowers swaying gently in the breeze. She looked small, her figure framed by the vastness of the night, and Bucky felt his chest tighten.

He took a steadying breath, his boots crunching softly on the gravel path as he approached. She didn’t look up, even when he stopped a few feet away.

“Hey,” he said, his voice softer than he intended. No response. “Mind if I sit?”

She shrugged, the movement barely noticeable. Taking that as permission, Bucky eased onto the bench beside her. The silence stretched between them, thick and heavy. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, searching for any sign she might speak, but her gaze remained fixed on the flowers.

“You’re really good at this,” he finally said, trying for levity. “The silent treatment, I mean. You’re putting Natasha to shame.”

Nothing. Not even a flicker of amusement. Bucky sighed, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “Okay, I deserved that. I deserve… a lot worse, honestly.”

Still, she didn’t look at him, and his heart sank further. He scrubbed a hand over his face, frustration mingling with his regret. “Y/N, I—” He stopped, the words choking him. Apologies weren’t his strong suit, but he needed her to hear this. “I messed up. I didn’t mean what I said to Steve. Not the way it sounded. I didn’t realize you—” He hesitated, his voice dropping. “I didn’t know what Hydra did to you. And I should’ve known. I should’ve understood that your voice isn’t just… noise.”

Her head turned slightly, her brows knitting together in a faint frown, but she didn’t say anything. Bucky pushed forward, his words tumbling out in a rush.

“You make this place better. Hell, you make me better. Every question, every random story—it’s like you bring this light with you, and I didn’t see it for what it was. I didn’t realize how much I relied on it until it was gone.”

He shifted, leaning closer to catch her gaze. “Doll, I need to hear your voice again. This silence—it’s driving me crazy.” His tone softened, almost pleading. “You don’t annoy me. You never did. I was just… too messed up to admit how much I like having you around. How much I like you.”

Her eyes finally met his, wide and uncertain. For a moment, he thought she might still pull away, retreat further into herself. But then her lips parted, and in the quietest voice, barely above a whisper, she asked, “You mean that?”

Bucky’s chest loosened, relief flooding through him. He nodded, his expression earnest. “Every word, Y/N. I’m sorry it took me this long to say it, but I mean it.”

Her gaze dropped, her hands fiddling with the hem of her sweater. “I thought… maybe you hated me. That I was just annoying you.”

“No,” he said firmly, his hand reaching out to cover hers. “You’re not annoying. You’re—” He broke off, his voice thick. “You’re incredible.”

Her lips quirked in the faintest of smiles, and Bucky felt the tension in his chest finally ease. When she spoke again, her voice was stronger, carrying the familiar warmth he’d missed so much. “So, you don’t mind if I keep talking? About, you know, everything?”

Bucky chuckled, a soft, genuine sound. “Not at all, doll. In fact, I’d be a little heartbroken if you didn’t…”

And for the first time in days, the silence broke, replaced by the soft murmur of her voice as she began to talk, and Bucky knew he’d do whatever it took to keep it that way.

——————————————————————————————————

Hope you enjoyed it, Hun. It was fun to write! 🫶

[theodorecanaryhood]

Wrong number

Jason Todd (left) x Male reader (right)

Reader gets a wrong number calling and the two get into a discussion

Boxes filled the floor space as you moved them to place, looking around you saw in your mind where you wanted everything.

Finally able to afford a new place of your own, moving from your parents. A bit reluctant about moving to Gotham City of all places sure, but rent is much cheaper here.

With a couple of weeks to spare until you began your new job, you had more time to make your home and home.

Your phone ringing distracted you, the vibration of your cell in your back pocket made you jump a little.

‘Hello?’ You answered, a man’s voice presented itself.

‘Hey Kevin, how are you?’ The man’s voice said.

‘This isn’t Kevin, sorry I think you have the wrong number’ you replied as the man sighed down the other side.

‘Fuck, my Grindr match must’ve given me a wrong number’ he said sadly.

You felt bad for the stranger on the other side, he just wanted to get to know a new guy and got rejected.

‘Guess he did, sorry’ you said as the man sighed again.

The man took a breath on the other end as he began to speak again.

‘So, what’s your name?’ He asked, you rested the phone between your shoulder and ear as you moved a box from the floor in the hallway, moving it to what would be the bedroom.

‘Y/n’ you replied, walking to the bedroom.

‘Well I’m Jason’ he introduced as you smiled a little.

‘Awesome, nice to meet you’ you smiled again.

You could hear Jason smilie on the other end, as he seemed to what you took as lay down.

‘You from here?’ He asked, you shook your head.

‘No, from Coast City, moved here for work and independence’ you revealed.

‘Well Gotham is an interesting choice’ Jason smirked.

‘I’m sure’ you chuckled as you placed the box on the bare mattress.

‘So, you single?’ Jason asked, you laughed.

‘Yeah’ you said as Jason chuckled.

‘You into guys?’ Jason asked, you raised an eyebrow.

‘Guess’ you said as Jason sighed again.

‘If I guess, can I take you out?’ Jason asked, you beamed.

You sat on the bare mattress, enjoying the phone call from a stranger. From his voice you guessed he was a big guy.

‘Go ahead’

‘You’re a bottom, you like men to dominate you’ Jason said.

‘Correct’ you laughed as Jason cheered on the other end of the phone.

‘This is creepy for a first phone call and we don’t even know what we look like’ Jason realised as you nodded.

‘I agree, but I guess we’ll have to meet up’ you suggested.

‘Great, how about tonight at six? There’s a bar not too far away from Iceberg. It’s called Red Sea’ Jason said.

‘Red Sea? Shall I dress up Captain Jack Sparrow or something?’ You chuckled, making Jason laugh on the other end of the phone.

‘Sure if you want’ Jason joked as you walked to a box of clothes.

‘Cool, see you at six, Jason’ you said, Jason’s voice was like music.

‘See you then, y/n’

The call ended, you couldn’t believe the luck you had of a random number calling you and asking you out within 30 minutes of talking.

You had no friends out here so it only made sense that you would not have objections to meeting up with someone.

Course, not a great meet and greet if you have no idea who he is, what he looks like or even if he is a serial killer or something.

‘I’m wearing a black tank top’ the text from Jason’s number said, you walked to the Red Sea doors.

Taking a breath as you walked in, finding Jason with a black tank top and black jeans. Black hair, tattoos, big arms on show.

‘Jason?’ You asked, the black haired man shot his eyes to you.

‘Whoa, hey, y/n?’ Jason took your form in as he stood up.

The two of you shook hands, Jason towered over you, his eyes drew you in.

The two of you had a drink and sat together, Jason’s skin was warm and soft. He reached for your hand across from the table.

The two of you heals onto each other, Jason reached across from the other side as he brushed your hair back.

Your heart raced, blood rushed down to your pants. You felt yourself rising in between the legs as you faced the most attractive man you’d ever seen.

‘Wanna dance?’ Jason asked, you nodded as Jason switched on the duke box.

The two of you held onto each other as you swayed to the music.

Jason leant down as he stroked your face, kissing you gently. You ran a hand up his arms as you deepened the kiss.

Holding onto his shoulders, Jason held your face as he snuck his tongue inside your mouth.

Kisses as sweet as heaven, Jason brushed himself against you as you felt his length rising too.

‘My place isn’t too far from here, want to head back there?’ Jason asked you, you nodded.

Jason took his time with you, greeting you with long slow kisses, little smiles and words of comfort.

Holding onto Jason, his back being greeted by scratches as his neck was greeted by your lips.

Jason was the best sex you’d ever had, you were certain that you were for him too. The two of you made so much noise, making so much mess from sweat, bites, clothes everywhere.

The two of you lay together as you slept sweetly in Jason’s arms, him being so determined to see you again.

You didn’t realise you could fall in love so quickly, neither did Jason.

All it took was a Grindr match to give a wrong number, and for you answer your phone.

[timetoletmyimaginationfly]

Little Flower Mini Fluffs: Emojis

Ryomen Sukuna x Reader

One-shot: Little Flower

Next: Kitchen Disaster

Previous: Home Disaster

You love everything about Ryomen Sukuna. The way he’s a completely different person only to you. The way he’s slowly been changing into someone more human than he was before. But nonetheless, you love him. Evil or not. And you wonder how you could love him more. Especially how he has such an old man mentality.

“What’s that smiling face?” he asked curiously as he looked at the keyboard on his brand new cell phone.

“Those are emojis,” you answered with a small giggle.

“Don’t judge me, woman,” he said, pretending be annoyed but you can hear the softness in them. “Little flower, what are all of these…symbols?”

“Emojis,” you answered again. Sukuna rolled his eyes. “Look.” You took your phone out and opened up a chat that included you, Shoko, and Utahime. “See these little symbols? It’s like, instead of typing the whole word out, you can replace them with emojis. Or emphasize your emotions or reactions. Look at this one.”

Utahime: Gojo’s doing that stupid thing again🙄

“And it’s as if Utahime-chan is rolling her eyes because you know, she’s always annoyed at Satoru-kun.” Sukuna nodded.

“What’s with the random letters? L-O-L?”

“It means ‘laugh out loud’,” you answered. “And then you can add in these laughing emojis.”

“They’re dumb.”

“It’s cute and funny, Sukuna.”

“I-D-K?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know? Why do you even use it often?” Sukuna questioned as he scrolled through the text messages. You laughed, harder. Sukuna frowned. “Little flower…”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. You’re cute. It literally means ‘I don’t know’.” His eyes widened in realization.

“I have a lot to learn,” he mumbled. You nodded. You took his phone in your hand and went to the App Store. “What are you doing now, little flower?”

“Social media! Go on my phone and find my Instagram. We can post cute pictures of each other!”

“What the heck? You post a picture of me sleeing? The King of Curses sleeping? And you said that I’m cute?” he questioned. You shrugged.

“You are though, baby,” you replied. “Here, I’ll give you Twitter too. The guys are hilarious on here.” Sukuna rolled his eyes.

“And why would I care about what they say?” he questioned with a raised eyebrow.

“For entertainment.” Sukuna sighed.

“What has this world come to?”

“Greater and better things, old man.”

“Hey. Watch how you address me.”

[tangibletechnomancy]

With the WGA and SAG-AFTRA on strike, I want to take this moment to talk about one really important thing that I've alluded to but haven't gone into depth on, and people don't like to hear because of a lot of the noise, but-

We need to also support VFX unionization efforts (everyone's with me so far right...?), and in doing so, acknowledge the labor actually involved in using new technology (not just AI, but whatever the NEXT big breakthrough is too, and the one after that, and the one after that, indefinitely) and credit the people operating it properly-

Aaaand I've lost some people, but hear me out.

Sure, it's easy to type a single prompt and get a result that looks kinda nice. "Kinda nice", however, isn't going to cut it for most productions! It's like photography that way. As ubiquitous as good-quality cell phone cameras are, anyone can just point and click with some very basic understanding of what makes a passable composition and get something that's pleasant on the eyes.

And yet, generally speaking, people aren't grabbing random people with cell phones off the street to shoot movie posters! Because even a layperson can tell the difference between the photo you get when you stop a random stranger on the street and ask them to take a photo of you and your friends together, and the photo you get when a trained professional sets up the actors in a studio, with deliberate lighting, a thorough understanding of what lens(es) to use, and so much more.

Photography is easy. To be able to get a professional quality result? Not so much. Sure, sometimes a total rando who barely knows how to use a camera will luck out and get the shot of a lifetime - but it sure doesn't happen often and you DEFINITELY can't make a whole profession out of hoping for it.

The same goes for AI.

Most singular AI pieces that are high enough quality to get people really excited take hours, and hours, and hours of work and refinement and retrying and tweaking to get right. I mean, go test out a free image generator and pay attention - you might get a lot of results that look fun just by typing in a very silly prompt, but good enough to be a major part of a movie without any alteration? ....maybe one in a million - and then you still probably have to upscale it! And the standard for "nice to look at for a moment" vs. "good enough to be a major part of a professional production" will only get stricter and stricter as things get more saturated and people see Default Midjourney Style or the like as being super boring and amateurish for anything bigger than a literal one-man production, too (which sucks on a tiny level for me personally because I like Default Midjourney Style, but that's not important).

I point this out because bringing this up in the context of unionization helps to kill the entire motivation behind using AI to undercut manual art. The higher-ups want the world to think it's just mindless, super-easy button-pushing that anyone can do, so it's fine to crunch people even HARDER than they already crunch VFX artists or outsource it to people they can pay subminimum wages, right?

It's not. It never is. It never will be. We need to cut it off at the pass before one more studio even fucking tries it.

[morbidology]

Kris Kremers, 21, and Lisanne Froon, 22, were two close friends from Amersfoort, Netherlands. Both were bright and enthusiastic young women who shared a passion for travel and exploration. In March 2014, they set off for Panama, planning to spend several weeks volunteering and exploring the country's culture and natural beauty.

After spending some time in the bustling city of Boquete, they decided to hike the El Pianista trail on April 1, 2014. The trail, known for its scenic views of the Panamanian jungle, was supposed to be a straightforward hike, but it would be the last time Kris and Lisanne were seen alive.

When Kris and Lisanne failed to return from their hike, concern quickly grew. The women had planned to meet a local guide the following day for a tour, but they never showed up. After several days of no contact, their families in the Netherlands raised the alarm, and a large-scale search and rescue operation was launched.

The search, which involved local authorities, indigenous tribes, and Dutch rescue teams, initially yielded no clues. The dense jungle, with its treacherous terrain and unpredictable weather, made the search incredibly challenging. Weeks passed with no sign of the young women, and hope began to fade.

Two months after their disappearance, a local woman found a backpack belonging to Lisanne Froon near a riverbank several kilometers from the El Pianista trail. The backpack, remarkably undamaged despite being exposed to the elements, contained crucial items, including Lisanne's passport, a water bottle, sunglasses, two pairs of bras, and $83 in cash.

Most notably, the backpack also held both women's cell phones and a camera.

The discovery of the cell phones provided a chilling glimpse into the ordeal Kris and Lisanne had faced. Investigators found that the women had attempted to call emergency services multiple times, starting just a few hours after they began their hike. However, due to the poor cell reception in the jungle, none of the calls went through except for one that lasted just a second before dropping. The phone records also showed that the devices were turned on and off multiple times over the following days, with the last activity recorded on April 11, ten days after their disappearance.

The digital camera found in the backpack contained over 100 photographs, some taken during the early stages of their hike, showing the women smiling and enjoying their adventure. However, the camera also contained a series of strange and disturbing images taken during the night on April 8, seven days after they were last seen. These photos showed the dark jungle, with unclear and seemingly random shots of rocks, a bridge, and a possible trail marker. One of the final images showed the back of Kris Kremers' head.

The discovery of the backpack led searchers to further explore the area, and soon after, human remains began to surface. Over the next few weeks, investigators found scattered bones, including a pelvic bone and a boot containing a foot, later identified through DNA testing as belonging to Lisanne Froon. More bones, including a fragmented rib bone from Kris Kremers, were also found in the vicinity.

The condition of the remains added another layer of mystery to the case. While Lisanne's bones appeared to be naturally decomposed, some of Kris's bones were found bleached, leading to speculation about what might have happened to the women in their final days.

The deaths of Kris Kremers and Lisanne Froon have fueled a multitude of theories, ranging from tragic accidents to foul play. Some believe that the women became lost in the jungle and succumbed to the harsh conditions, including dehydration, starvation, or injury. The nighttime photos and desperate attempts to call for help suggest they may have been trying to find their way out or signal rescuers.

However, the case has also sparked darker theories, including the possibility of foul play. The condition of the remains, the unexplained photos, and the discovery of the backpack in a relatively undamaged state have led some to speculate that the women may have encountered someone with ill intentions or that their deaths were not purely accidental.

[slamminslamminmcgill]

random thoughts... saul fingering you while hes on call with someone ... placing his hand tightly over your mouth to shut you up ... dhdjhejshrntg..f..g.. getting bent over that damn desk and him taking his tie off to choke you with it ...

>:333

combining w/ these

anatomical terms:

"We're sorry we missed you! Saul Goodman and Associates is out to lunch. Leave your name and phone number at the tone, and we will return your call before the end of the business day. Thank you!"

If anyone were to contact the office between 1-2PM, Monday-Friday, that's the message they would be greeted with. Guaranteed. That was when Saul took his lunch break. During that time, he'd eat out and get whatever he was craving: burgers, Mexican, Thai, you. That last one was his favorite.

You were laying down flat against his desk, legs dangling over the edge, with Saul nestled between them as he ate you out. Your hand grasped at strands of his thinning hair and guided his movements. He appreciated the help, but he didn't need it. He knew what he was doing, and what he was doing was a great job.

Hs firm hands and thin lips brought you up to the precipice of an orgasm. You begged for release in the soundproof office. "Saul... Saul, please... so... so close... God, fuck, please... Please!"

Surprisingly, the next thing you heard was not your own voice shrieking in ecstasy, but that of a telephone screeching for attention. You both froze in place, your climax shot down and reduced to rubble.

Saul pulled off of you and groaned, his mouth quite literally dripping wet. "Son of a bitch..." He stood up, brushed himself off, and leaned over you to hit the intercom button. "Francesca! What time is it?"

A flat, no-nonsense voice came through the other side. "2:04" was all it had to say.

"Oops! Sorry, lost track of time there. Thanks HT!"

"Don't call me tha-"

Click.

Saul silenced her dissent by releasing the button. He sat back in his chair and grabbed the ringing phone, one of many piled up in his drawer. Holding the cell in one hand, he beckoned you over and slapped his thigh with the other. A silent cue for you to take your seat.

You slid off the desk and propped yourself on his lap. He flipped the phone open and finagled it between his shoulder and his ear to keep both of his hands free. "Thank you for calling Saul Goodman! What can I do for ya?" He answered with perfect poise and nonchalance as he wrapped his arms around you and groped your chest.

The voice on the other end was frantic, low, and gravelly. You didn't hear specific words, just tone. Saul rolled his eyes as it spoke, lazily dragging one of his hands lower and lower, until it rested between your legs. "I see... That sounds very troubling." He answered with mock sympathy as he pressed his fingers inside you again.

You threw your head back and moaned, probably for a fraction of a second before Saul slapped his hand over your mouth. "Quiet. You just sit back, relax, and let me handle this, okay? I don't need your input."

The party on the other line must have heard something, because Saul's response was more anxious. "Oh! Nothing, nothing, don't worry. Now, let me check my schedule and I'll see where I can fit you in." He twisted and turned his fingers inside you, stretching you out, probably making sure you could fit him in. "Hm... looks like it's gonna be a tight squeeze..." He emphasized those words by pushing up into your g-spot and making your legs tremble, "...buuut I can get you in tomorrow at 4. Would that work for you, Walt?"

His voice stopped for a moment to let "Walt" speak; his fingers didn't do the same. Regardless of who "Walt" was and what he needed, it wasn't as important as this. At least, to you two it wasn't. "Walt" was shouting into the phone like he might burst a blood vessel.

Saul replied incredulously at the mysterious figure's behavior. "What?! Absolutely not! I have a waiting room packed full of clients who need to see me just as much as you do! I'm not your little callboy!" He leaned in close to whisper in your ear. "You on the other hand..."

He turned his attention back to the petulant voice shouting in his ear. "Y'know what? I'm done talking about this. Mr. White, I'll see you at 4PM tomorrow and not a moment sooner." He took his hand off your mouth to snap the flip phone shut.

"Sorry about that, sweetheart, now..." He pumped his fingers even faster, priming you for another release. "Let's get back to the task at hand."

[georgianaortiz]

OPEN | @lunarcovestarters

A. Capture the Flag [ The Cove's Jail ]

The retreat events weren't the kind of games Gia liked to play. Still, the vampire participated on behalf of the clan. Her loyalty to her people unassailable but questionable with everyone else. "Well I study prehistoric archeology, mostly, but a colleague of mine is a maritime archaeologist. Brilliant in his field." The brunette commended. "But bless his heart, he's a mess of a man. Steps out on his wife who gave him five children. He can't keep an assistant, either, and no one has to guess why." Head still shaking in disapproval, Gia continued on. "So this colleague, he told me that the bottom of the ocean is called the abyssal plain and isn't made of sand but sediment from everything that's ever lived in the sea. How interesting!" The exclamation was followed by an abrupt change in her tone as the eyes in the back of her head, from motherhood, told her someone was trying to escape. "Sit back down."

B. Canoeing [ During the Vampire's bracket ]

Wearing a long, flowing skirt, and kitten heels with a parasail and picnic basket in hand, Gia declined her canoe's paddle and settled into her little boat. The only thing she knew about boats was how to float down river. Which was a favorite past time of hers, growing up, as a young girl in Savannah. The middle child of a dozen and one siblings, they all loaded into oak boats with picnic lunches to bask in the southern, summertime sun. Today filled Gia with nostalgia and champagne, which she packed in lieue of her childhood's picnic lunch. She popped the bottle the second she set sail, bubbling with delight as the liquid poured over the top. "What a lovely day this will be!"

C. Bonfire [ Opening Night ]

They were all just stories at the end. Stories and bones; two of Gia's great loves. Scary stories her favorite kind, ever since childhood when she'd sneak out of bed, wander down the hall, and eavesdrop on her older siblings attempts to spook one another. In a sort of poetic irony that Georgiana amusedly appreciated, she was a ghost story. "They say I haunt the house where I died in Savannah. The story seems to change every few decades. I tripped down the stairs, my husband's misstress pushed me, an evil spirit from beyond did the deed.." A laugh, half-hearted in sound, proceeded the recount. "All are false, of course. They do have my portrait up, though the artist's rendition is hardly as damning as a photograph." Her tongue clicked in audible annoyance, as she grumbled something about stupid cell phones.

D. Werewolf BBQ

Why the clan was invited to a werewolf BBQ was beyond Gia's knowing. Once more, she joined in on the festivities like a good sport and brought baked goods for the food table. One look at the cuisine and she knew she wouldn't be eating anything she hadn't brought herself. Georgiana had a particular palette for human food these days, and it did not include anything that could be prepared on a BBQ. She resigned herself to drinking and people watching, making observations in her mind until someone was in ear shot to hear her commentary. "That guy.." The vampire gestured at someone, random, in the crowd. "..is a beer shy of being able to start a brewery. I give him another half hour, at best. That's being generous." Not so quietly she scoffed, "Light weight."

[revalition]

OCT 10 - EMPATHY Understand others. Work your mirror neurons.

I really love this guy. Mostly. I rambled about it and then decided to shove it under the cut haha.

So as usual, tons of quotes and rambly commentary under the cut!

empathy!! I love him a lot, he has so much insight to offer. But. I will admit I did not like him at first!

probably not 20 minutes into my first playthrough, I'm on the phone with Sylvie. And yes, fail the empathy check... I'm like oooh no what is wrong with this empathy skill, it's completely broken... why is he *like this*.

but I give him another chance and accept the kingdom of conscience quest! which, uh, made me realize I hate moralism I suppose!!

And then we get to the tribunal... where he very nicely tells you to find a non-violent solution! so I once again. give him a chance (because the only one who dissuades me is half light, who I trust even less) and it ends up in several avoidable deaths... sigh.

he has so much good advice, and invaluable insights into other people. (esp. the working class husband side quest) and then there's these random bad bits mixed in - like all the skills I suppose.

He's like, look at this poor birch tree... and look at this poor dead fly... and I realize this guy is way too much like me. >:(

----

empathy fun facts! from my weird spreadsheet

- he's part of an exclusive group of 8 skills that restore more morale than they damage!

- he says sorry a dozen times and not a single one is directed at you! that's right, he does not apologize to you once!

- he says "we" more than he says "I" (only counting actually referring to himself, not quoting others)

- compared to the other skills I've checked so far, his swearing is at ~3/10 swearing amount edit!! empathy's score is 4.97... a perfectly average amount of swearing

----

here are empathyyy quotes!

this one obviously has to be here. empathy gives a few peeks into Jean's mental state

empathyyyy. interestingly, if empathy doesn't fire here, inland empire will say the exact same thing, word for word

empathy just knows, somehow. it sounds terrible.

kingdom of conscience empathy is so funny. the (only very slowly) at the end always gets me

these guys trying to save you from the evil phone call...

empathy during the tribunal!! at least he can admit when he's wrong... I really felt the limits of empathy's usefulness during my first tribunal. I trusted him and tried to do things peacefully and all that ended up happening was the gardener got shot and I ended up with a bunch of negative modifiers on the bomb throwing check. It's so easy to put some of the skills into the 'good advice' category and forget that they all have a really limited way of viewing the world, and that that impacts their decision making abilities... poor guy.

total annhilation :( as usual, this is in the last dream.

I don't think anyone who even slightly likes empathy wants to look at it, but the Love Quest has to be in here. empathy said it, it's real

these dialogue options...

it's sooo bad. the Love Quest is so painful. euuugh. Empathy is so *enthusiastic* about it too!!

lol.

this one's if you pass the empathy check and then pick the stupid dialogue options he warns you not to pick. you reprimand him sweetie!! empathy almost never reprimands you!

nooo not the cells :((

always love empathy insights into kim!!

another one <3 this one gives you the dialogue option to reassure kim that you'll be able to do it tomorrow

empathyyy :,( I hate (love) you

this is such a cool insight

empathy trying to steer you back... (also rhetoric using them??)

empathy picking up random weird stuff!

I really liked this one. And being able to visit the birch later <3

precious naive empathyy

these two haha

really like this one too. (I like the insects too empathy!! my sweet guy)

viscalc getting distracted by the coins *so* fast, and empathy not letting you forget what you just said haha

empathy is so surprised!

<3

empathy! looking out for everyone

empathy making me feel bad for bringing kim into the room (with the help of savvy and endurance!)

this one's nice too

It really, really is.

Ending it on a sad one today. The working class husband quest is the one part of the game I just can't engage with, which is why lines from it aren't in here. Even though I think it's the place where Empathy really really shines. If you pass the check, it has the one really impactful line - he knows how important your words are, choose them carefully. The failure is incredibly painful too. It's really beautifully done, and I would have absolutely included many of those lines in here if I could.

Anyways, that's sadly 30! I put aside some other nice ones I can share later though. It's a bit hard to find the best of them because the way I usually search for stuff doesn't catch everything... Empathy has so many great lines <3

[alldoll3dup]

Hii!! This is my first time doing this so I hope I'm doing it right 💀 If you're still available for requests, I was wondering if you could do headcanons or a one-shot (whichever you like more) for a gn or fem reader that's best friends with Velvet and Veneer and is also a famous singer?

If you need a little more inspiration, maybe they would've met at an award show or something similar. I feel like Veneer would be the first to become friends with the reader and then Velvet would become a little more approachable and friendly. Or maybe they were both fans of each other and became fast friends and eventually besties.

Or if you have your own ideas, write those instead! Whatever you choose to do, I'll be happy with! I love them so much and your previous writings have fueled my obsessed brain 😅

I hope you have a good day!! And thank you so much!! 💖

▐ Omg hey of course i can do it, thank you very much, your idea is really good and i will love to write it!

໑୧﹒★﹒Velvet and Veneer x famous!Reader - Headcanon's/one-shot ᰍ﹒∿

𝐬��𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 - You were a famous artist and at an award you met the famous twins Velvet and Veneer and maybe you three became best friends

𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦 - Trolls

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - FEM!Reader, swearing

★ ONE SHOT ★

- You were a famous artist, known for your addictive and amazing songs

- So because of your undeniable talent you were invited to an awards ceremony, you were very excited thinking about the artists you could meet there

- So the day of the big awards event finally arrived, you talked to several famous stars until you noticed a big commotion around two people

- They were the twins Velvet and Veneer, you admired them a lot and wondered if you would have the chance to talk to them

- A few minutes passed and you had to go straight to a stage with other artists and the twins were there too

- The awards started when it was your turn and you ended up bumping into Veneer (who almost fell in the ground )

"Oh my god sorry! WAIT You're Y/N?" - you looked at him a little confused

"Yes, it's me, I'm sorry for bumping into you" - You scratched your head in embarrassment, your first time talking to him was already a disaster

"I've already listened to your songs, they're A-M-A-Z-I-N-G, my sister didn't want me to talk to you because you're an 'adversary', but look, call this number when you're free, kay? Bye bye" - and then Veneer walked away normally and you were perplexed

- On stage you received some awards and lots of applause and when the event ended you were still thinking about what Veneer had said, did he liked your music? Unbelievable

- When you got home you called the number and it was Veneer's number, you and him talked for hours about many things

- You and Veneer became friends very fast so he asked you to go out together, you, him and Velvet, you just thought how unbelievable that was if that was a dream you didn't want to wake up

- Then the day came when you met again, Veneer immediately greeted you while Velvet looked at you with disdain and crossed arms.

"Y/N we have so much to talk about! Let's go"

"Ugh what a nonsense"

- When Veneer left your side for a while, Velvet immediately looked at you with disdain and held your face for you to look at her

“You may fool my foolish brother, but you won’t fool me, don’t try to draw attention to yourself, get out of my way.”

"No, it's nothing like that, I admire you two a lot, I didn't want to give you that impression"

- Then Veneer comes back with some random stuff and you feel a little embarrassed.

"Hey is something wrong going on Y/N?"

"No, it's fine..."

- You spend the rest of the day trying to please Velvet and Veneer, but Veneer doesn't quite understand your sudden change in mood

- At the end of the day you say goodbye and when you open your cell phone you are bombarded with messages from Veneer

★ Veneer Bestie

- Girl are you okay? You looked so uncomfortable

- Something happened?

- I'm going to hit whoever messed with you 😈

It's okay I just think your sister dont like me 😭 -

- She doesn't like anyone lMAO 💀💀💀

- Just wait a while, someday she will trust you

- So every day you became closer to them and one day Velvet finally gave in

"Lest do a feat with me, you and Veneer" - she said crossing her arms

"Oh my god???? Yes I thought you would never ask"

"First I'm not asking, I'm ordering, secondly, don't think we're friends, I just liked your voice a little"

- You released your first feat together and it literally blew up, you were the most talked about at the moment

- You were the trio of the moment!

★ HEADCANON'S ★

- You are always together at events, always laughing and gossiping about everyone around you

- Velvet is very cruel, but sometimes she treats you well, Veneer is super kind

- Velvet definitely posts a lot of photos of the three of you together

- Since you are their best friend, they are very supportive of your career as you are of theirs

- Did you post a new song? They disclose

- Did they post a new song? You disclose

- You three are literally the trio goal of most mount rageons

- When you're with Velvet you're are both cruel judgers making fun of any idiot , especially when you two are angry or disgusted (but Velvet is much more aggressive)

- When you're with Veneer, sometimes you have to stand up for him otherwise he just lets it go (even if it's a very offensive thing)

- The three of you together are complete chaos, you have the funniest moments together

- Literally the presence of the three of you together is devastating, funny and chaotic

- Definitely a fan created a channel on youtube of "Best moments of the chaotic trio"

- You guys spend a lot, but like A LOT of money when you're together

"Look Y/N this suits you! I'm going to buy all of them" - she said with the ugliest thing she found in the store

"Oh how cute I need this!" - he said with the most useless thing in his hand that he will never use but it's super expensive

"My God, you guys are wasting money machines "

- Definitely have sleepovers and Velvet always puts on the worst horror movie possible

- And even so, Veneer is scared to death, all covered up, holding onto your arm while Velvet slaps you because she only knows how to laugh by hitting (and like a trapped goose)

"Dammit Velvet stop hitting me!”

"HWHWYWUWJSHEG *trapped goose sounds* I CANT"

"Y/N HOLY SHIT I'M GOING TO DIE I WANT TO STOP WATCHING BUT I CAN'T!"

- You and Velvet start laughing together and Veneer gets sulky and stomps away

"I AM SORRY VENEER JSHSHSJSJHDBDL"

"I won't forgive you Y/N" (two minutes later he forgets)

- If any insect comes near you three, you will have to kill it because Velvet is disgusted and Veneer is afraid

"LOOK AT THIS DISGUSTING THING KILL IT!" - Velvet screams going behind Y/N

"KILL IT NOW WHAT IF THIS MONSTER TAKES OVER OUR HOUSE?!" - Veneer says desperately behind Y/N

"Relax, you two, it's just a spider" - you pick it up on paper and in a jar and put it outside

- After you leave, Velvet will "accidentally" step on the poor spider

- And this is your normal day to day as the best trio of Mount Rageous

▐ Hello y'all, this was just so fun to write omg

▐ Sorry if there are any grammatical errors love you guys ♡

REQUESTS ARE OPEN! ★

[theheartofappalachia]

I've been on a foggy forest kick lately

[chronicowboy]

for life | 4.3k

It starts when Eddie gets shot. It's a lot of factors all at once that crash together and spiral into what could be the most spectacularly poor string of decisions Buck has ever made, but the taste of his best friend's blood still lingers on his tongue like a thick layer of ash, so maybe it can be excused. Because a sniper's large calibre round had torn through the relative calm of morning in downtown Los Angeles and now Buck knows two things: he's in love with Eddie, and he'd follow him anywhere—even to death.

Except, he can't. Because there's a little boy at 4995 South Bedford Street waiting for his dad to come home, and Buck has to be somehow more than he is. He has to find it in himself to scrub Eddie's blood from his skin and put his own emotions aside, so that he can hold that little boy in his arms and make promises he has no right to make.

Besides, Eddie has a different hand to tether him to life now; small and delicate and gentle in a way Buck's hands never were, never could be—they've only ever been big and bloody and always too late.

So, Buck goes back to the only home he's ever known, changed to the very core of him. He thinks about how the cells of the human body are constantly regenerating into something newer, something less damaged by the world, and he wonders if he's in a whole different body to the one he was in this morning—his heart is forever changed, that much he knows. Buck tries to ignore the tumorous black mass of pain in his chest as he tells Christopher about his dad, but it's the shiny-eyed hope of a kid that's been through too much that brings him to his knees because Eddie is okay, of course he's okay when he has Christopher to come home to, but he almost wasn't, and Buck doesn't know if he'll ever be okay again.

It's late when Christopher finally falls asleep, and Buck stands from his vigil by the wrong—but also maybe the right—bedside with numb legs, and he doesn't know if it's Eddie on a ventilator or the pins and needles that has him staggering towards the door. He grabs the stuff to make up the couch without a second thought and builds his bed with trembling hands as he tries not to think about the empty one down the hall. When it's done, he makes no move to lie down, just sits on the edge of the pull-out mattress and stares until tears prick at his eyes like a thousand microscopic needles.

Before he knows what he's doing, Buck is dialling a number more familiar to him than his own and bringing the phone up to his ear. It rings and rings and rings and clicks.

"You've reached Eddie Diaz, call me back or leave a message after the beep."

For a moment, Buck just breathes down the line, uncaring that Eddie will wake up in a few days and listen to the shaky wheeze of his exhales. He just needs a moment. The timbre of Eddie's voice so damn alive compared to the croak he'd had in the engine when he'd asked if Buck was hurt as he'd bled out.

(OR: five times buck uses random facts to tell eddie how he feels + the one time christopher does it for him)

@danielsousa @binickmiller @diazass @shitouttabuck @butchdiaz @buddstiel @organizedstardust @theoneandonlypigeon @anatargmova @alyxmastershipper @buckley-diaz-rules @blazeturbo102 @panbuckley @slowlyfoggydestiny @thatnamewill-probably-change @compactdiscmp3 @batgrldes @scattered-winter @prince-buck-diaz @mysteriouslyyounggalaxy

[tsukimefuku]

Where does your mind drift?

After you and Nanami get stranded trying to get back to Tokyo, you both end up having a chat about your feelings.

Tags: Jujutsu Kaisen, f!reader, light Nanami x reader, implied Higuruma x reader, so much fluff with a little angst.

WC: 1.3K

I was watching PWB's "Crashing" and thought about adapting that dialogue bit for these two fools, that are so obviously in love. This is part of my "Jujutsu Partners Canon Divergence AU". A sequence of short stories and random drabbles for a fic I'll eventually write (eventually). To see the ever-growing list of one-shots, please visit my masterlist :) 

Disclaimer: they’re NOT written and posted in chronological order of events. To see where this story fits in the timeline, please check the masterlist mentioned above.

"There is no signal!" Ijichi said, exasperated, holding his phone above his head. You and Nanami sighed, for now you three were completely stranded in the middle of the mountains on your way back to Tokyo. The car made one, two, three, four weird noises, and then it simply stopped, none of you having any idea — or energy, for that matter — to fix whatever the hell was going on under the hood. The day was tiring and gnarly, even if you were happy to accompany Nanami on one mission after so much time. Higuruma was finally starting to take a few missions on his own, and you were back to being by yourself, yet again.

You and Nanami had already pushed the car to the side of the road, and the night was incredibly clear, with the sky covered in stars and moonlight. There was a souvenir you bought — somewhat to Nanami's dismay — that would come in handy soon. Earlier that day, after the mission was finished, you both took a walk while waiting for Ijichi, and you bought a bottle of local mirin. The walk was colored by the typical banter you and Nanami had carved for yourselves over the course of the last year. This day, particularly, Nanami seemed fonder than usual, smiling more often, and actually holding out on some of his harsh matter-of-factly remarks. No complaints, though. You definitely appreciated it. 

"Ijichi, why don't you try walking to the next turn and see if you have any cell reception there?" You said, picking a bottle from a paper bag that was in the backseat.

"I'll try, but I don't have much hope." He responded, as you could see him walking further away. Eventually there were only footsteps. You leaned over on the car and popped the bottle open.

"Are you going to drink it right now?" Nanami asked, also leaning against the car, by your side, taking off his glasses. He put them in his pocket and looked at the sky, and you could see his chiseled face illuminated by the moon. It was a sight, for sure.

"Oh, I'm finished working, and so are you, Nanami," you answered, "so now this is Ijichi's work, and I'm going to relax while we wait. Do you want some, though?" After a big gulp, you extended your arm towards him, holding the bottle of mirin.

Resigned, Nanami grabbed the bottle and sipped on it, slightly scrunching his face at the taste. "Too sweet." He gave you back the bottle, as you had already pulled your phone out and saw the texts you received from Higuruma before cell reception had died. Ever since he started taking a few missions by himself, you missed having him by your side on a daily basis, so you two were texting each other every day.

Higuruma had sent you a picture holding the sunflower you gave him, with the caption I promise I'm taking good care of it. You giggled slightly, biting your lower lip, and Nanami noticed it, discreetly lifting one eyebrow.

"Is that where you're headed after we get to Tokyo?" He asked. His voice sounded a little more judgmental than usual, something you didn't entirely understand, since Nanami and Higuruma were finally getting on good terms with each other.

"No!" You answered, slightly blushing. You took another gulp of mirin and looked down smiling, and embarrassed, since you felt like you had practically been caught red-handed crushing on another man by him. "I mean, I don't know. Don't judge me."

"Unfortunately, I can't promise you that."

You both had been making the banter dance for a while now — a long while — and you both kind of knew already what was probably going on between the two of you. So, you decided to tiptoe around the boundaries of the unsaid, just this once.

"I mean, he's cute" you said, looking straight at Nanami right after, to see what would be his reaction.

"Is that so?" He answered nonchalantly, grabbing the bottle and taking a good second to finally drink from it. You felt this wasn't the most effective probing method, so decided to change your approach.

"Oh, everybody's mind drifts off, sometimes." Chuckling softly, you took the bottle back. "Where does your mind drift?"

You were both staring up to the stars, but for a moment, you felt his eyes on you. As you looked at him, he closed his eyes, lowered his face slightly, and began speaking.

"Are you actually asking me about that? I figured you'd know the answer to that question by now." He clearly had caught up to what you were doing, but this time, you weren't embarrassed. You were, in fact, relieved to be finally talking — even if indirectly — about it. Your heart started to pick up the pace as you got ready to answer.

"Well, I think I do. But, you know-" You said, gazing over at him. "I thought you'd know about it by now, too. Where my mind drifts."

"For the matter of fact, and not to sound arrogant, but I believe I do, too." Nanami replied, gazing back at you. His next question caught you by surprise, though. "Do you ever think about it?"

You stuttered slightly for a moment before answering. "Well, I mean, yeah. More times than not." You admitted. "Do you?"

"Yes." He replied, right off the bat.

Both stood silent for a while, still looking at each other, as you started to speak.

"It would be a bad idea, wouldn't it?" You asked, a little defeated.

Nanami sighed. "Yes, it would be ill-advised." The life of jujutsu sorcerers, where you could die at any moment in time, leaving someone broken and heart broken behind, was usually a lonely one. Both of you knew that very well, haunted by your own losses and ghosts from the past.

You sighed back, and extended your hand in his direction for a handshake. "Partners in crime?"

He pondered for a second, then took your hand and shook it. "Colleagues in arms."

You sighed, yet again, this time breaking eye contact for a moment before looking back at him. "You never give me an inch, do you?"

He held your hand, gaze locked into yours, and you didn't look away. Almost like a dare. You both stayed like that, looking deeply in each other's eyes as Nanami held your hand in a makeshift handshake, rubbing this thumb gently on the back of your hand, and you felt maybe he was giving away some inches without noticing. You were, too.

Unashamed and unembarrassed, you both felt seen. If only that were enough.

He pulled you closer and gently approached his nose to your hair, giving it a sniff. You didn't know, but he adored how your hair always smelled like flowers. He thought this phenomenon seemed supernatural.

Bodies close, you put your hand that was holding the bottle softly over his arm, and he didn't move away, actually holding the back of your arm instead, pulling you even closer, having your face nearly touching the warmth of his neck. This was inebriating, and you could almost feel your head starting to spin, for you, too, loved the woody and warm scent he naturally seemed to have on him all the time. Your hands had not separated since the "handshake", and he squeezed at it, humming softly. 

"Nanami, I-" you stuttered, "is this such a bad idea, though?"

He slid his hand above your arm, your elbow, your shoulder, your neck, gently making his way to hold the back of your head, leaving a trail of heat wherever his touch traveled. Nanami slightly parted his body from yours, and looked you in the eyes — he seemed calm, and yet, divided.

He kissed your forehead and stepped back, letting go of you, while looking away, somewhat disappointed, and resigned. You were slightly confused until you heard it, the frantic footsteps in your direction.

"I got a hold of Jujutsu High!" Ijichi yelled from the other side, tripping his way over back to you both. "They're sending someone to pick us up!"

Oh.

Well, you were a little disappointed now, too.

[dis0rderly-cl0wn-nerd]

Escape Room Shenanigans

Ledger!Joker x Fem!Reader

Warnings: None

Summary: Y/n and J celebrate Halloween by doing a clown themed escape room.

Author's Note: I did a creepy clown escape room back in March and I've had this idea for a oneshot ever since. I decided to save for it for spooky season. I was supposed to already have it done by Halloween but I got behind on CAS & CYM. So have a spooky oneshot at Christmastime instead 😅

Taglist: @alittlesmartcookie @lightsabergirl @gothic-aesthetic-gal @furisodespirit

Joker thought the concept of paying someone to lock you in a room was dumb.

“This is Riddler bullshit.” He grumbled as you approached the building together.

“Come on, J. It’ll be fun! I picked the creepy clown theme. Everyone says it's the best one. The jumpscares are actually scary.”

Joker chuckled. “Oh really? I’ll be the judge of that.”

He bent down and whispered in your ear, “You know, since I am a creepy clown…”

You shot him a playful look and approached the counter.

“I have a reservation for y/n.”

The geeky looking guy behind the counter smiled and typed something into his computer.

“Y/n… You had two for CarnEvil?”

“Yes.”

He told you the total and you inserted your card into the machine. Once you had paid, the man grabbed his keys and came out from behind the counter. 

“Alright. Here’s the rules. If you have a cell phone it needs to go in this box. It makes the experience so much better.”

You pulled yours out of your pocket and stuck it inside. Joker gave you a sideways glance but you ignored him. The man kinda looked confused as to why Joker didn’t drop something in but chose not to say anything.

“Thank you, ma’am. Now, there are three rooms you have to complete in just one hour. Don’t pull on any of the wires. If something doesn’t come loose right away, it doesn’t need to be opened. All the clues are easy to access. Any questions?”

“Nope.” 

“Alright, follow me.”

The man led you and Joker down a long hallway and opened a door towards the end. He pointed to the dark room inside. “You’ll start here. You have one hour. Good luck.” 

As you stepped into the dark room and the door was shut behind you, your heart beating with excitement. Joker looked…unenthused.

Your eyes adjusted to the dark and you could see that the room was narrow and long. You were glad it was just the two of you because it would’ve been horrible to do this with a crowd of people. Even with just you and Joker it was a little cramped.

As you took everything in, you accidentally backed into Joker’s chest and spooked yourself, letting out a shout in surprise. Joker laughed. He placed his warm hands on your shoulders and steadied you.

“Easy. It’s just me, bunny.”

You laughed and turned to scan the dimly lit room. “Okay, let’s see here…”

The room was painted and decorated to look like an alleyway. There were random bits of graffiti scribbled around, each in a different color. In front of you was a closed plastic box attached to the wall. Beside that was a keypad.

You tried to open the box first but it wouldn’t budge. You noticed a keyhole on the top of it and realized that the first step was to find the key. 

“We need to find the key first.” You relayed your findings to Joker.

For a few minutes you both scoured the room for the key. You thought you spotted something in one of the corners and grabbed it. To your disappointment it was just a flashlight but you decided to use it to your advantage.

You shone the beam of light in seemingly every nook and cranny but nothing turned up. You were left scratching your head, wondering where it could be. Ultimately, Joker found it behind a metal trash can used for decoration. You didn’t even think to look there.

Joker unlocked the plastic box and opened it up. You eagerly peered inside. There were cards with some kind of code on them and another flashlight looking thing with a note attached to it that read, This is a blacklight. You will use it in the next room! You both grabbed a card each and Joker took the blacklight. 

You read over the card and tried to piece together what it could mean. “So there’s a sequence of colors at the top and numbers that each go with different arrows pointed in different directions. Oh! Oh! The graffiti is different colors!”

“And it has arrows with it, see?” Joker said and pointed to the wall. 

You glanced at the walls and sure enough each scribble had an arrow pointed in different directions. You grinned. “Good eye, J. Now all we have to do is piece it together.”

“Well, the sequence of colors must be the order that the numbers go in. Why else would it be there?”

You nodded. “Probably. It says here, 1 goes with the left arrow, 4 goes with the right arrow, 8 goes with the down arrow, 5 goes with the curved arrow, 7 goes with the up arrow, and 2 goes with the dotted arrow.” 

“The sequence is green, red, purple, yellow, blue, and orange. The right arrow is green, the down arrow is red, the left arrow is purple, the curved arrow is yellow, the dotted arrow is blue, and the up arrow is orange. So the code must be 481527.” Joker deduced.

You hurriedly typed the numbers into the keypad. It beeped and turned green.

“Correct.” An automated voice said. 

“Pssh. That was easy.” Joker scoffed.

You rolled your eyes. “I’m sure it will get harder, smarty pants.”

There was a loud clanking noise and then an opening appeared at the bottom of the wall. It was just big enough to crawl into. A green light spilled into the dim ‘alleyway’.

Joker raised an eyebrow. “Are we meant to crawl in there?”

“I guess so.”

“Bunny, I’m over six feet tall. I ain’t gonna fit in there.”

“Yes you will. It looks big enough. Watch, I’ll go first.”

You crouched down on the floor and started to crawl through the opening. Once inside, you turned around, stuck your head through, and stared up at Joker. 

“There’s plenty of space. Come on.” You beckoned him. 

He sighed and begrudgingly got down on his hands and knees. He had to lower himself close to the floor to avoid hitting his head but still managed to get through without much difficulty. You helped him to his feet once he was in the room. 

You both looked around at your new surroundings. There was a ball with multicolored strobe lights shining throughout the room. The room was mostly empty and had dingy yellow pinstripe wallpaper. On the walls were various clown portraits and paintings. Carnival themed music played in the background as well as a loop of creepy laughter.

Joker seemed somewhat interested now. You caught him staring at the paintings instead of trying to look for the first clue. 

“This is right up your alley, huh?” You teased.

Joker smirked. “This room is hideous, but I like the little paintings.” 

“We need to start looking for clues. It said we would use the blacklight, so maybe let’s try that? You shine it around the room and I’ll see if I can find anything helpful.”

Joker turned on the blacklight and went around shining it on things. Meanwhile you searched for the room for any visible clues. There was another doorway with no handle, just a sheet of wood. Next to it there was another keypad mounted on the wall, meaning another code was required to open it. This time the keypad asked for four digits instead of six.

“Found something.” Joker said from across the room.

“What?” You asked, turning to face him. 

Joker pointed to one of the clown paintings. There was an Ace of Spades taped to the side of the frame. He held the blacklight to it and read the message written in invisible ink. “Find the rest of my suit. Then you’ll be squared away.”

“So the whole spades suit?” 

Joker nodded. “I’ll look over here. You keep looking over there.”

You went back to looking for clues on your side and picked up a random babydoll from the floor. After examining it, you found three cards hidden in its dress pocket. 

“I found three!” You cried happily.

“Just found two behind this painting. That means there’s seven to go.“ Joker replied.

You walked over to a rope dangling beside the strobe lights. “Hey, I didn’t see this. I wonder what it does.” 

You gave the rope a small tug and a trap door from the ceiling opened with a loud bang. Without warning, an ear piercing laugh sound effect was played and a life size clown doll fell out. 

You screamed as the clown landed right on top of you and scrambled to get away from it. You swore Joker at least flinched. Your heart raced as you attempted to get your breath back. Then you saw who the clown was supposed to be modeled after and burst out laughing.

In case there was anyone listening in or cameras, you knew Joker couldn’t openly react, but you could tell by his face he was so not having it. 

You bit your cheeks and shook with suppressed laughter as you heard him mutter, “Are you kidding me? I do not look like that.” 

“Man, they sure picked the right guy to be the creepy clown. So accurate too.” You wheezed.

Joker side eyed you. The clown had an unkempt green wig for hair and messy black, white, and red makeup slathered on its face. His purple suit appeared to be handmade and made of various different fabrics. You had to give them credit, it was very creative, but also very offensive to the man it was supposed to portray. How were they supposed to know the Joker himself would see this?

As Joker stood off to the side brooding and thinking of blowing up the place afterwards, you searched the faux Joker for more clues. Hidden in the various pockets of the purple suit were more cards, seven in total.

“Ha! Looks like we found them all.” You announced. 

You laid them all out on the floor face up. Joker knelt down beside you and laid down the cards he found. He turned on the blacklight again and pointed it at the collection of cards. A bunch of numbers became visible. You looked closer and noticed that all the even numbered cards had 4 written on them, the odd numbered cards had 9, the king and the jack had 16, and finally the queen had 25. 

“Okay… What does it all mean?” Joker wondered aloud.

“There are four digits to put in the keypad. Maybe these have something to do with it.“ 

You stood up and walked over to the keypad. You punched in every four digit combination possible from those numbers, but nothing worked. Sighing, you went back to the cards and looked at them again.

A lightbulb seemed to go off in Joker’s mind. “Hey, wait a second… All these numbers are perfect squares. The Ace said we’ll be ’square’ if we find all the clues.” 

“Ohhhh! That makes a lot more sense now.”

Joker laughed. “Pfft. This is so lame. Good ol’ Eddie would be throwing a hissy fit right about now.”

“Oh, hush. I realize this is probably meant for dumb teens. Still, you know you’re having fun.“ 

“Whatever, bunny.” Joker giggled. 

“So the numbers are 2345?”

“Yeah. They could be in any order though.” 

You nodded and hurried back to the keypad. You typed in the numbers in random orders until one combination finally got the keypad to turn green and say correct. The door slid open and a bright neon painted room with various psychedelic clown murals greeted you. 

You walked inside tentatively, keeping an eye out for more jumpscares. Joker trailed right along behind you. He smirked mischievously and lurched forward, grabbing you by the shoulders. “Boo!”

You yelped and swatted at him angrily. “Don’t do that again, you jerk!” 

“Sorry bunny! I just couldn’t help myself! You should’ve seen your face!” He howled, nearly folding over with laughter. 

“Uh huh. Laugh it up. Hey, look I found something.” You pointed to a sign above your heads that said Congratulations! in big red letters. 

Joker squinted at the smaller writing underneath and read it to himself. “You have successfully outsmarted the killer clowns holding you hostage. Just press the big red button on the ticket booth and you’ll complete the game. Are you serious? Man, are people really that dumb nowadays? This was the most watered down, stupid…” 

You reached up and, grabbing his face, kissed him so he’d be quiet. “I know it’s pretty cheesy, J. I was honestly expecting more myself. But I just wanted to spend some extra time with you. You have to admit that’s worth it, right?”

Joker sighed and smiled down at you. “Yeah. I guess so. I’ll go press the button, doll.” 

He walked over to the hand painted ticket booth made out of plywood and cardboard and pressed the button. Another clown doll lurched forward and laughed maniacally. Joker jumped a mile and let out a string of curses. You broke into more peals of laughter. You wished you’d had your phone to film that. 

Joker looked mad for a split second, but then laughed right along with you. “Yeah, yeah. Very funny. Let’s get outta here, doll.”

“Yeah. Ooh, can we go get dinner somewhere?” 

“Whatever ya want, bunny.” Joker said and kissed your cheek as you walked out of the new door that opened, holding hands.

[maccreadysbaby]

Project: Killcode

batfamily + oc insert

tw: none

wanna read more? here’s the table of contents!

want to read the first fic in the hundred days series so you understand what’s going on here? here it is!

bellamy and bentley actually make my heart hurt

part seventeen

❝ ONE AFTER ANOTHER ❞

MONDAY — JULY 23 — 10:54AM

BENTLEY MADE IT THROUGH MATH CLASS.

The whole thing was Dr… Mr. Keene giving a presentation about himself. He had two sons, instead of a daughter that he turned into a raging supervillain. He didn’t have a doctorate, he had a bachelors. He’d lived in New York City since he was in his early twenties — he didn’t live in Gotham, and he never had. In some of the pictures of his family, the Dr. Keene Bentley knew made appearances, standing alongside his brother when they were young. 

About halfway through the presentation, Bentley actually started believing it wasn’t him. But his… appearance was something he’d have to get used to.

Bentley was pretty jittery for the rest of the class, and Varian kept glancing over at him about every three seconds for the entire period, just to make sure he was okay. Which he was. He was fine. It wasn’t Dr. Keene, and all of that had happened three years ago, now. He should be over it… right? (Getting kidnapped, tortured in his own mind, shot, watching people die, seeing all of Gotham on fire, watching Asten’s heart literally flatline… he should be over it all. Right? Right?)

When the bell rang for them to go to fourth period, Bentley and Varian gathered their things and left the room in a blink, purposefully giving Mr. Keene no time to pull Bentley aside or try to speak to him.

Instead, they broke off for their next classes — and Bentley’s was beginner’s biology.

The science building was right next to the math building, so Bentley was one of the first few students to cross into the classroom. It was large, set up like the others — the blackboard at the front of the room had a huge, intricate chalk drawing of a cell and all its intricacies on it. There was a skeleton standing in the front corner with a Hawaiian skirt and lei, and a name tag labeled Bessie on its ribs.

There were only three other students in there, so Bentley pretty much got his pick of a table — he chose an unsuspecting one right in the middle of the room, not in the front, and not in the back. He just hoped no one random would sit with him.

The teacher was an older woman, with black hair cut into a bob and a very… serious aura about her. She was sitting at her desk with reading glasses perched precariously on her nose, staring at her computer screen with a strange intensity, wearing the same uniform as Ms. Heidi.

He didn’t say anything, nor did he do anything to draw attention to himself. He just pulled a green binder out of his backpack and put it on the table in front of him, silently hoping and praying he wouldn’t have to share the two-person desk with a stranger.

The bell hadn’t rang yet, so he pulled out his phone and held it sort of under the table — did they get in trouble for using them before class started? — and scrolled and tapped away mindlessly before he remembered he needed to look something up.

He typed Adora, California into his search bar, and was immediately greeted by several articles about…

Genocide?

He blinked a few times and turned his brightness down, tapping on the first article in the list.

Adora, California, was a small town right on the edge of Sacramento established just under fifteen years ago. It was inhabited largely by a very secretive cult who offered their allegiance and worship to an unnamed god of death. They lived “off the grid” as in no one born in that town has a physical birth certificate or social security, making them legally nonexistent.

Bentley cringed, skimming through the rest of the article quickly.

Three years ago, the entire town, save the children, was mass-murdered inside the temple of their worship building. No evidence of a physical killer have been found. Most are inclined to think they took part in a mass-suicide as tribute to their-

Bentley swiped the tab away, suddenly feeling kind of really weird and uncomfortable. Koa was from… he was born into… a cult? That was kind of weird. Or maybe he wasn’t because Bentley was pretty sure he was fifteen, and it said the town was established under fifteen years ago. He’d lived with a cult, then. That was super strange, because Koa acted completely, utterly normal -- not like cult people who were in the movies.

Bentley promptly remembered that Koa never talked about his parents, but about a young man who had custody of him. Obviously they’d survived the genocide, or suicide, or whatever. Maybe they-

Bentley shook his head, pushing it all far from his mind, because it was starting to make him feel weird. He… he guessed he’d just keep being friends with Koa like he didn’t know what Adora was -- after all, Bentley, too, had an insanely crazy past. It’d be kind of rude for him to judge Koa for his, especially since he wasn’t really supposed to know about it.

So he sat there and looked at the desk some more, and students began filing into the room at a more rapid pace. Bentley quickly glanced at each one that came in, pleased when they went to tables different from his own.

And then someone really little walked into the room.

Oh yeah, he suddenly remembered. He had biology with Bellamy.

He watched Bellamy’s brown eyes trail the room quickly as stepped inside, starting at the blackboard and traveling to  the skeleton, and then the desks, bouncing here and there before they finally landed on Bentley. He saw relief physically wash across his small features, and he pulled his backpack straps up tighter on his shoulders, making his way across the room toward his table. He glanced at the teachers desk; and Bentley didn’t miss the way he tensed at the sight of her and her threatening aura. (He didn’t really blame him.)

“Hey, Bellamy,” Bentley sent a smile in his direction, and Bellamy stepped up to the other side of the table, glancing down at it, then at Bentley, like he was asking for permission. 

“You can sit with me, if you want,” Bentley continued. Bellamy shrugged his bag off and sat down next to him without saying anything, sinking down into his chair with a long, shaky exhale. Bentley watched him carefully. “...You okay?”

“I’m tired,” Was the only answer he got, and he didn’t press for anything more. 

Bentley sat quiet for a few minutes, watching Bellamy glance at the teacher anxiously a few times, like she was going to come over there and personally stab him or something. She stood up from her desk and headed for the door -- Bellamy made himself smaller.

“Have you had a good day?” Bentley attempted a distraction, but it didn’t seem to help -- Bellamy just shrugged, his eyes lingering on the woman in the room. Bentley wasn’t sure what was going on, but he wasn’t a fan of the body language Bellamy was displaying. The same kind of body language Bentley used to have toward his own father.

“It's been fine,” He said softly, watching the teacher’s every move with hawk-like eyes. “I don’t like school.”

“I’m not sure many of us do,” Bentley replied, scooting his chair into the table more, keeping his gaze on Bellamy, the teacher in his peripheral. “Are you… feeling alright?”

“Mhm,” Bellamy replied. “Just tired.”

Bentley brought a hand up to rub at Bellamy’s back without thinking -- and he was sure his life flashed before his eyes at the speed the other boy jumped, so violently that it shook their entire desk and nearly knocked him out of his chair. His head snapped up and he looked over at Bentley incredulously, his brown eyes blown wide on his face, like he half-expected him to punch him or throw something at him or knock him flat out. 

“I’m sorry,” Bentley immediately blurted, drawing his hand back quickly like he’d been burned. He could feel a few eyes on them from around the room, but he didn’t pay them any mind; Instead, something inside of him twisted uncomfortably when he recognized the look in Bellamy’s eyes -- a far-off, detached kind of look, like he just knew something bad was going to happen, like he was… 

Like he was afraid of him.

“I’m sorry, Bellamy,” Bentley repeated, quieter. “I didn’t mean to scare you, I promise.”

Bellamy’s eyes fell, and he slowly began to relax, exhaling a breath that Bentley hadn’t noticed he was holding. “I’m… I’m sorry. I didn’t… mean to do that.”

“It's okay,” Bentley was quick to reply. Their teacher, who had apparently finished her duties in the hallway, came back into the classroom and closed the door with a loud wooden slam that shook the very walls. 

Bellamy flinched again, his eyes flying up to the door like he expected something terrible and murderous to come back through it, then flicking to the teacher like she was the terrible and murderous thing. He brought his hands up and around himself as a means of comfort, gripping his own blazer sleeves until his knuckles turned white. Bentley reached out to touch his arm, but stopped short when he realized that was stupid given his current state.

He gently asked: “Bellamy?” instead.

Bentley only then noticed that Bellamy’s hands were trembling, and his breathing was growing increasingly more ragged the longer they sat there. Bentley just sort of watched, unsure of what to do that wouldn’t freak him out even more -- and Bellamy dipped his head down close to the table, his shoulders shuddering. 

“Bellamy… hey, what is it?” Bentley tried, glancing up at the teacher, who was looking at them with distaste, her eyebrows raised above the metal rims of her glasses.

When Bellamy finally made a noise, it was a soft, muffled, telltale whimper in the back of his throat that sort of made Bentley want to kill someone.

He was crying.

Everything Bentley was thinking of seemed to leave his brain at the realization, and he reached for him again, only stopping when he remembered not to do that anymore. He forgot every single thing any Wayne had ever done for him when he was crying, and instead, his mind only seemed to reach back far enough to catalog what Varian had done during Bentley’s meltdown last period.

It seemed good enough.

“Hey… let's go in the hallway,” He tried, glancing around and catching a few of the pairs of eyes that were now resting on them. 

Thankfully, it wasn’t very hard to convince him. Bellamy stood without a second thought, and Bentley did, too, crossing the short distance between their table and the door. Bentley stayed to Bellamy’s right, between him and the woman, just for good measure, because he didn’t know what was going on and he didn’t like it.

As soon as they were in the hallway and away from prying eyes, Bentley closed the door. Bellamy took a few steps down the hall, closing in on himself more, his sobs becoming barely, pitifully audible.

(This kid was too much like Bentley for his own good.)

“Bellamy…” He tried again, taking a few steps to follow him. “What’s wrong? Do you know her?”

He vaguely saw Bellamy shake his head no, but he was pretty much shaking all over, so Bentley wasn’t so sure about it. What he was sure about was how painfully lost he felt, having to take over the role of the help-someone-feel-better-er, the one role that was pretty much never left to him back at home simply because he was the youngest.

He wiped his hands on his pants. “You can tell me, Bell.”

“I’m…” Bellamy started, hiccuping lightly, still facing away from Bentley. “I… don’t know. I don’t know what’s wrong.”

“That’s okay, too,” Bentley said, stepping forward again. 

Bellamy turned to look at him and Bentley frowned — his brown eyes were wide and pooling with tears that were steaming down his face, making dots on his blazer. He hiccuped suddenly, bringing his hands up toward his eyes in an attempt to hide it. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t say sorry, it’s okay,” Bentley replied quietly, glancing around the fancy hallway, glad it was empty. “What do you need?”

Without speaking a word, Bellamy stepped forward until he collided with him gently, synching his arms tightly around Bentley’s back.

Bentley fought the urge to gasp, instead, bringing his arms up and around him in return. 

“I don’t know… what’s wrong with me,” He sniffled, his voice muffled as his face was hidden away in Bentley’s blazer.

“Nothing,” Bentley was quick to reply. “All of this, Redwood, it’s… overwhelming. Even for me. It’s okay to… need a minute. I did the same thing last period, believe it or not.”

Bellamy seemed to relax a little when he said that, tightening his hold a little more, sniffling and hiccuping quietly against Bentley’s shoulder. 

(He wondered if it was a form of torture that was being bestowed upon him, rooming him with a kid who was just like him in so many ways — and not the good ones. Like he was having to deal with himself. If the nightmares weren’t reminiscent enough of Bentley’s past relationship with sleep, Bellamy’s uncanny ability to have some kind of a nervous breakdown maybe only an hour after Bentley did certainly said something about them… but Bentley wasn’t sure what.)

Bellamy sniffled deeply. “My head hurts.”

Suddenly, a door opened and closed behind them, and Bellamy went rigid.

“Is everything okay?” The teacher’s voice came, and Bentley glanced over Bellamy’s head to where she was, standing next to the door with a faintly worried expression on her face. Bentley felt Bellamy grip tightly onto the back of his blazer, and all big dig his head into his shoulder so he couldn’t see her, and for some reason, Bentley couldn’t bring himself to like the woman.

“First day nerves,” Bentley replied curtly, glancing back down at Bellamy’s head. “He’s… okay with me, we might just need a few minutes.”

She nodded once, frowning at Bellamy’s trembling figure. “Yes… take your time.” 

Then she disappeared back into the classroom.

Bellamy hiccuped lightly again, his hold not loosening. “I want to go to my room.”

Bentley but his lip, glancing around the hallway as though the wainscoted walls would give him a proper answer. He breathed in and out, smoothing down the hair on the back of Bellamy’s head.

“I…” He started, trailing off, unsure of what exactly to say. He didn’t think he needed to endorse Bellamy skipping class, but he didn’t just want to peer pressure him into something that made him uncomfortable, either. (If he was anything like Bentley, peer pressure didn’t actually take much pressure.) “I… I’ll be with you the whole time. And I’m pretty sure lunch is right after this, and we can ask the others if you have any classes with them for the rest of the day. I’m sure they won’t mind letting you sit with them.”

Bellamy sniffled, but said nothing. So Bentley just stayed in the hallway with him for a while, pondering what his reaction to the teacher could’ve meant.

His fathers voice from so many years ago told him that he had to pay just as much attention to what people didn’t say, as he did to what they did say.

So quietly (and probably reading too far into the conversation), he wondered why, when he was clearly in distress, Bellamy said he wanted to go to his room, rather than saying he wanted to go home.

--

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