#then maybe it was all worth it in the end

[casscainmainly]

The Evolution of Cassandra Cain's Dialogue

Since Batgirl #1 is out and thriving, I thought it'd be fun to dive into the history of Cass' dialogue throughout different writers/runs. This is not comprehensive - I'll miss some writers, but I'll be covering her generally most known runs in mainline continuity (so no DCeased, Shadow of the Batgirl, etc.). Not a linguist by any means, so linguists on here feel free to chime in! (I'll also give opinions on which interpretations I personally prefer at the end).

Without further ado, we'll start at the beginning:

Kelley Puckett - Batgirl (2000)

Pre-issue 4, Cass speaks minimally in one-word sentences and doesn't have internal narration. Post-issue 4 (when a metahuman changes Cass' brain), she develops an internal monologue and begins to speak longer sentences. I'm splitting Puckett's Cass dialogue into 3 stages: early, middle, and late.

Early (#4 - #12): Cass speaks short, fragmented sentences. Each word has an ellipses between them (panel 1 above, from #7).

Middle (#13 - #24): Cass continues to speak incomplete sentences (often missing a subject or pronouns), but without ellipses (panel 2, from #13).

Late (#25 onwards): Cass begins to speak complete, simple sentences, punctuated by a few ellipses (panel 3, from #33). She continues to speak grammatically (though slowly) throughout the final part of Puckett's run.

Dylan Horrocks - Batgirl (2000)

Horrocks writes very similarly to late-Puckett, with Cass speaking in full, simple sentences, punctuated by the occasional ellipses. Horrocks introduces two new elements to her dialogue:

Cass stutters, sometimes repeating a word or phrase at the beginning of a sentence (panel 1 above, from #39). This is mostly used in the earlier parts of Horrocks' run.

She quotes reality TV (panel 2, from #51).

Maybe because of the reality TV, Cass also speaks more colloquially here than in Puckett's run, using phrases like "come 'n' get it" (from #57).

Andersen Gabrych - Batgirl (2000)

Gabrych's run focuses heavily on Cass' dialogue. Panel 1 above, from #58, suggests her narration boxes are another form of dialogue - Cass is speaking into a recorder. Several features of Gabrych's Cass dialogue are:

Ellipses: Even more than his predecessors, Gabrych scatters ellipses throughout Cass' speech (panel 1).

Fillers: Cass extensively uses filler words such as 'uh', 'um', and 'like' (panel 1, panel 2 from #61).

Longer sentences: Cass is more talkative and speaks longer sentences (panel 1, which is basically more words per panel than Puckett and Horrocks combined).

Wordplay: Cass often ponders definitions and word structures (panel 1, 2).

Adam Beechen - Batgirl (2008)

After evil Cass (that dialogue is not worth discussing), Beechen gets another chance with Cass in this miniseries. More than any other writer, Beechen differentiates Cass' internal monologue from her dialogue - her narration boxes are much wordier than her speech.

Her dialogue is a more loquacious version of late-Puckett or Horrocks: full sentences interspersed with ellipses (panel 1, from #1). The ellipses drop off towards the end of the series.

Her narration boxes use a variety of sentence structures and vocabulary. They read more or less as fluent English (panel 2, from #4).

Scott Snyder - Gates of Gotham (2011)

Snyder's Cass somewhat resembles mid-Puckett, using short sentences without ellipses (panel 1, from #2). She speaks a fair amount, but is more taciturn here than in any previous run. This is partially due to her not having narration boxes.

A unique feature of Snyder's Cass is preferring formal to informal speech. Though she uses contractions (panel 1), she goes large stretches without them (panel 2, from #3). She also omits the subject of a sentence only once in 5 issues, whereas native speakers (like Dick) drop the subject all the time ('have you ever been to Paris?' vs. 'ever been to Paris?'; Snyder's Cass would always say the former instead of the latter).

Sidenote: Batman & Robin: Eternal (2015)

Quick note about B&R:E: Cass is reintroduced into canon after being erased by the New 52, which means she's back to having very limited language ability. The series is scripted by multiple people, so it's hard to analyse. Suffice it to say she speaks in monosyllabic words, at most a short, incomplete sentence, but is mostly silent.

James Tynion IV - Detective Comics (2016)

Because Cass' language ability has been reset, Tynion develops her speech along the lines of Batgirl (2000).

Early Tynion has Cass speaking single word sentences (panel 1, from #938). Very similar to pre-metahuman touch Cass in BG (2000).

During the League of Shadows arc, Cass begins to speak a few words at a time, often separated by an ellipsis (panel 2, from #956).

Afterwards, Cass' friendship with Basil Karlo blossoms, leading to this run's most distinctive language feature - Cass improves her speech via studying and quoting Shakespeare (panel 3, from #958). Her improvement is reflected in the rest of the run through speaking longer and more frequent sentences.

Bryan Hill - Batman & The Outsiders (2019)

Like other writers, Hill's Cass generally uses short, simple sentences. She frequently drops the subject or pronoun in a sentence (panel 1, from #1). Hill doesn't use ellipses to separate the sentences, opting for periods most of the time.

Cass sometimes omits other words from her sentences too, dropping articles like 'a' and 'the' (panel 2, from #4), prepositions like 'to', and verbs like 'is' (panel 3, from #9). This peters out in the second half of the run.

Becky Cloonan and Michael W. Conrad - Batgirls (2022)

Similar to mid-Puckett, Batgirls has Cass speak mostly in short, 1-2 word sentences (panel 1, from #2). Cloonan and Conrad occasionally use ellipses as well, though mostly for emphasis/natural hesitation rather than indicating a unique speech pattern (panel 2, from #7).

Cass also has a habit of repeating/echoing a phrase Stephanie says (panel 3, from #16). This might be more of a friendship thing than a speech thing, though.

Alyssa Wong - Spirit World (2023)

Wong's Cass uses short sentences sometimes interrupted by ellipses, like late-Puckett and Horrocks (panel 1, from #1). Generally, if the sentence is three words or less, there won't be an ellipsis (panel 2, from #5).

Kelly Thompson - Birds of Prey (2023)

Thompson's Cass draws on a lot of previous iterations, but is somewhat unique as a whole. Some elements of BoP Cass include:

She speaks in sentences of varying lengths, but rarely with more than one clause (panel 1, from #1). Thompson is more strict about not using commas with Cass than most other writers.

Cass is a little more talkative (panel 2, from #5). Her sentences are fairly lengthy compared to most other runs, and she doesn't always opt for the shortest way to say things ('where is it?' instead of 'do you know where it is?'). Thompson also doesn't use ellipses, which adds to the sentences feeling longer/more complete.

BoP is ongoing so Thompson may add more to her speech.

Sidenote: Ram V - Detective Comics (2023)

Putting this in a sidenote since there's not much to say, but Ram V takes after mid-Puckett, with Cass using shorter, incomplete sentences. Cass almost always omits the subject of a sentence; her dialogue is as short as possible while retaining clarity.

Thoughts

Because Cass' language disability is a core part of her character, but learning to speak is also a core part of her character, I prefer writers who emphasize her unique speech patterns without reducing her range of expression. My favourites are:

Gabrych - by far the person who put the most effort into his dialogue, Gabrych-Cass has such a vibrant, distinctive style of speaking. The narration boxes, Cass' wordplay, and the use of fillers and ellipses all combine for a speech style that highlights her disability without reducing her to it.

Puckett/Horrocks - combining because they are really very similar. Puckett and Horrocks both use ellipses to great effect, and is a great style to emulate for Cass in an earlier stage of life. Horrocks' use of reality TV is severely underutilised. Puckett, of course, is the gold standard for typical Cass dialogue - if Gabrych's style is a little too much, Puckett and Horrocks are the way to go.

Tynion - mostly because of the Shakespeare thing. It's such a beautiful and clever way of showing her progress, and the amount of symbolism you could do with Cass quoting Shakespeare is unmatched.

I don't super enjoy the more talkative Casses (Beechen, Thompson to an extent), though I kind of like Snyder's take because there's a sense of Cass being very careful with her speech there. If you're writing Cass for a fanfic or something, I would avoid Hill's Outsiders; the run is great, but Cass' ungrammatical speech is unusual and doesn't jibe with the rest of her depictions. Ram V and Wong are relatively good depictions to draw from though.

Of course these are my opinions! I may have gotten some things wrong/overgeneralised stuff, so take all this with a grain of salt. All you need to know is you should read Batgirl (2000) :).

[cyarikaplease]

and i’ll never see you again if i can help it

ex!joel miller x f!reader

summary: after breaking up with Joel, you take an opposite patrol shift to avoid him at all costs.

warnings: smut and angst

“The first time I tasted somebody else's spit, I had a coughing fit

I mistakenly called them by your name

I was let down it wasn't the same”

The cold nighttime air startled your lungs as you stumbled outside. Before you had time to acclimate, his lips were pressed against yours. You drunkenly kissed him back, him being some guy you met at the Tipsy Bison whose name you couldn’t even be bothered to recall. You got a taste of his spit, bitter from the alcohol he just drank. You forced yourself not to gag which caused you to pull away and cough violently, the crisp November air certainly not helping. 

He looked at you under the dim street lamp and chuckled, “You okay?”

Tears sprung at the corners of your eyes as you continued your coughs and struggled to catch your breath. He rubbed your back as your coughing fit came to an end. 

That was nice of him.

When the coughing finally dissipated you resigned to kissing him again. He pressed you against the side of the building and worked on your neck, leaving sloppy, wet kisses on your soft skin.

You started to moan a little and as he kissed and sucked on your neck, you subconsciously moaned “Joel”. 

He stopped. You felt the blood rush to your cheeks and your face grew hot. He slowly pulled away from your neck and looked you in the eye. 

“…What did you just say?”

You didn’t know what to say. It’s not like you could tell him the truth, “Oh I was just moaning my ex’s name.” That would crush him. You stared at each other under the streetlamp and through puffs of your visible breath. The expression on his face was a mixture of disappointment and betrayal.

“I- I…” you stuttered out.

He shook his head and muttered “Forget it” before turning and walking home, leaving you alone in the dark street with nothing but the shame you felt. 

“I’m doing fine, trying to derail my one-track mind

Regaining my self-worth in record time

But I can’t help but think of your other in the bed that was mine”

You sighed and went to walk home yourself, the shame already melting away. It’s not like it was going to be anything serious anyway. Who cares if you called him by the wrong name? You’re still healing from your breakup with Joel anyway. You were bound to be a little messy here and there. The shame had started shapeshifting into pride of some kind. But all that changed when you saw him leaving the Tipsy Bison. And no, not the random guy from before. This time him being Joel. And he was with a woman. They were clearly drunk and practically hanging off of each other. How had you not noticed him inside earlier? And as they walked towards the direction of Joel’s home, the home that you used to share with him, you heard something rare; Joel was laughing. Jealousy stirred a pit in your stomach. Your hands clenched at your sides. Tears sprung in your eyes again. The shame returned but this time for a different reason. You were ashamed you no longer had a rebound. You wanted to prove to Joel that you didn’t need him; that you were moving on. But instead, you were standing in the street feeling jealous, watching him walk home to fuck someone where he used to fuck you. 

“Am I a masochist, resisting urges to punch you in the teeth

Call you a bitch and leave?”

You wanted to yell after him; tell him to stop; ask what he thought he was doing. Maybe even call him a name or two. Maybe throw him a punch. Maybe not the punch though. That was just drunk you talking. You didn’t really have a right to do any of those things anyway. You were broken up. He was free to move on to whoever he wanted. You turned on your heel and walked home, head hanging low in humiliation. You returned to your empty home, collapsing into bed and finally letting the tears flow now that you were alone. You thought about what Joel was doing with her. Was he kissing her? Were they holding each other? Were they in what used to be your bed with Joel? Did he have the same attention to detail with her pleasure that he used to have with yours? It made your stomach twist into knots. The alcohol mixed with the feelings of regret, longing, and nostalgia; all of it fusing together, leaving you nauseous. You ran to your bathroom and emptied the contents of your stomach into the toilet. You sat on the floor, rested your head against the toilet seat, and sobbed, the tears making your face sticky and puffy. You knew you were gonna look like shit tomorrow, eyes puffy and bloodshot, all the color in your face faded. And to make matters worse, you had a daytime patrol shift with Joel tomorrow. The thought of him seeing you like this was mortifying. You wanted him to think that you were moving on; that you didn’t need him anymore. But that was far from the truth. 

“Why did I come here? To sit and watch you stare at your feet? 

What was the plan? Absolve all your guilt and shake hands?”

You woke up that morning with a splitting headache. The morning sun creeping in through the windows didn’t help either. You rose from your bed slowly, the aches in your body starting to set in. You went to the bathroom and took a look at yourself in the mirror. The bags under your eyes were a deep purple and the life was sucked from your face. You thought about Joel seeing you like this… which led you to think about him waking up with her this morning. The pain that that thought gave you was indescribable. It tore at your stomach and your heart, leaving them with heavy pits. You leaned over the bathroom counter and took slow, deep breaths, heading facing down at the sink. After talking yourself down from the impending mental breakdown you got ready for your patrol shift, slipping on your clothes and grabbing your gun on the dresser before exiting into the brisk morning. You put your pants in the pockets of your jacket and stared at the ground as you walked, not trying to make eye contact with anyone as Jackson was waking up for the day. 

You reached the main gate to find Joel waiting there, too, also looking at the ground. Tommy and a few others were waiting as well. You wordlessly headed to the stables, mounting on your houses for the patrol. The tension between the group hung heavy in the air, thanks to you and Joel. Everyone in town knew about your breakup and how messy it was. Nobody dared to say a thing as you and the group exited through the gate and spread out along the walls of Jackson. Somehow you and Joel ended up next to each other, neither of you looking in the other’s general direction. The strain and hostility between you two was so strong it was pliable. It felt like a weight being pushed down on your shoulders. And that’s how most of the shift went– you and Joel next to each other or walking by each other on your horses, never making eye contact. It was awkward for you, him, and everyone else unfortunate enough to be on the same patrol shift with you guys. If only you could switch patrol shifts…

But your thoughts are interrupted when Joel speaks, startling you. 

“Can we talk?”

Really? Now?

“I don’t really think here is the best time or place…” you said, glancing at the others around you.

“Meet me at the diner after our shift?” he asked in a hushed tone. 

The diner in Jackson had a service for patrol shift workers to stop in for coffee whenever they needed it. Going to the diner after your patrol shifts was something you used to do together. Now, you avoided that place like the plague, finding it to be painful to go to. 

Your brow furrowed, “Sure, I guess…”

He nodded silently and led his horse in the opposite direction around the fence. You didn’t see him much for the rest of your shift. And when you did you didn’t really look him in the eye. The day seemed to drag on, the sun getting lower and lower in the sky. At the end of your shift, you headed back to the stables and dismounted from your horse, starting the walk to the diner. Jackson was bathed in a warm red glow, a beautiful sight on a normal day but you were too nervous to appreciate it. As you approached the diner you saw Joel through the window, sitting at a booth, looking down at his hands.

“I feel no need to forgive but I might as well

But let me kiss your lips so I know how it felt

Pay for my coffee and leave before the sun goes down

Walk for hours in the dark feeling all hell”

You entered the diner with a ding from the bell attached to the door. Joel looked up from his hands and met your eyes. You wordlessly walked to his booth and sat across from him, not knowing what to say. But again, Joel spoke first.

“I’m sorry you had to see that outside the Tipsy Bison last night…”

So he did see you. That made this so much worse.

You sighed, “You don’t have anything to apologize for. We’ve been broken up for like a month now.”

“I know but that doesn’t mean I don’t care for you or your feelings anymore…”

He looked at you with a solemn expression on his face. Before either of you could say anything the waitress came over to take your order. 

“Can I get you two anything else besides coffee? Something to eat?”

Not in the mood to eat. Not during a talk like this. 

“Just the coffee for now,” you replied. 

“Same for me.”

“I’ll be right back with those,” she said before, turning and heading behind the counter. 

“I mean… I forgive you I guess?”

He nodded and reached your hand across the table.

But why? Why is he doing this if he supposedly moved on? You missed him, though. And you’d be lying to yourself right now if this didn’t make you at least a little bit happy. 

You took his hand and sighed, rubbing your thumb across his. 

“Why are we doing this? I thought we were supposed to be moving on. I’ve been trying to, at least.” It physically pained you to say those words but it was what needed to be said. He can’t just go home with another woman and then come back to you apologizing. He either wanted you or he didn’t.

He didn’t answer. The waitress returned with your coffees and you sipped on them silently; the warm liquid soothing you after a long day out in the cold.

You continued, “I just don’t get what’s going on here. It all feels like a mixed signal.”

“I want to move on. I really do. But when I try to move on I find myself feelin’ guilty. And it doesn’t help that we work the same patrol shift. I see you all the time and anytime I look at you, I just feel guilty.”

“I’ll make this easier for both of us, Joel,” you said, giving him a sad smile. “Don’t worry about me. Just live your life.”

Something compelled you to give him one final kiss before it was over forever. You leaned over the booth and gave him a quick, chaste kiss, even though you would regret it later. Before he could say anything in return, you slid out of the booth and stood up, getting ready to leave. 

“Goodbye, Joel,” you said before leaving him behind, in the past where he belongs. 

“Don’t hold your breath, forget you’ve ever saw me at my best

You don’t deserve what you don’t respect

Don’t deserve what you say you love and then neglect

Now bite your tongue, it’s too dangerous to fall so young

Take back what you said

Can’t lose what you never had”

The sun was setting. The people of Jackson were heading towards their homes, but not you. You walked through the dark streets, in a melancholy haze. You missed him so much but there was a reason your relationship ended. But still, you found yourself reminiscing on the good times; the patrol shifts together, him teaching you how to play guitar, laughing together with Ellie. But he didn’t love you the way you needed to be loved. It was understandable given all he went through. But he didn’t need to tell you he loved you and treat you otherwise. 

You met each other in Kansas City after FEDRA’s control there collapsed. 

And when you first got together he would always tell you to be careful falling for him. You were a lot younger than him. Looking back, he was probably right. But he stopped trying to fight your feelings towards him and just accepted it. And that’s all it most likely was at the end of the day; him just accepting you, not loving you back. At least that’s what you thought. Maybe there was a part of grumpy, stoic Joel Miller that loved you deep down. And if that part of him existed, he was terrible at letting it out. 

It wasn’t a breakup where one person broke up with the other. You both felt it coming for a while. The greatest love you’d ever known (or thought you’d ever known) slipped through your fingers. And you both felt it was time to cut it off. That was a little over a month ago and it hasn’t been any easier since.

After a while the frigid night turned into dawn. You stayed out the whole night, loafing around. Soon it would be time for your patrol shift but you thought about what Joel said.

“And it doesn’t help that we work the same patrol shift. I see you all the time and anytime I look at you, I just feel guilty.”

“You got a 9 to 5, so I’ll take the night shift

And I’ll never see you again if I can help it

In five years I hope the songs feel like covers

Dedicated to new lovers”

You spotted Tommy walking to his patrol shift and that’s when you got the idea: ask for the night shift.

“Tommy!” you shouted, “Wait up!”

He stopped walking and turned to face you. You jogged a little bit to catch up with him.

“Hey,” he said wearily, taking in your current state. “Did you go to bed last night?”

“No… But I actually had something I wanted to ask you.”

“Shoot.”

“Would it be alright if I took the night shift instead?”

He let out a small sigh. He knew what this was about. 

“…I don’t see why not.”

“Thanks. Can I start tonight?”

“Yeah, that’s fine. Go home and get some sleep,” he said, looking at your tired face.

“Thanks, Tommy,” you replied before walking home.

You didn’t see Joel walk to his shift. Maybe he was already there. Maybe he would notice your absence. Maybe he wouldn’t care. Maybe he would be relieved. 

You walked inside and went straight to your bedroom, peeling off the clothes you had been wearing for the past twenty four hours. You slipped on something to wear to sleep and crumpled into bed, exhaustion taking you over. You still found yourself dreaming of Joel. You dreamt of when he taught you to play guitar. He knew some songs from before the outbreak but not a ton. So a lot of the songs you made up on the spot, not necessarily accompanied by singing either, something neither of you were skilled at. But it was something you two did together. It was something that made the detached Joel Miller enjoy himself for once. Maybe one day he would play those songs for someone else or forget yours and make up new ones entirely. Maybe he would teach her how to play guitar. Maybe he would give up that hobby altogether after you, finding it too painful. 

You slept throughout the whole day, waking up a couple of hours before your night shift. You opened your eyes groggily, not adjusted to the light coming in through the windows yet. You rubbed your eyes and opened them to see a tall, looming figure standing over your bed.

“What the fuck?!” you shouted, sitting upright. 

You blinked a few times and your vision focused. It was just Joel and he had a scowl on his face.

“Jesus Christ, Joel. You scared the shit out of me,” you said in an annoyed tone, trying to quell your racing heartbeat.

“The fuckin’ night shift?!” he said gruffly, still towering over you. 

“And what about it?” you challenged, folding your arms. 

“What was the fuckin’ reason for it,” he replied, sitting across from you on the bed.

“Thought about what you said yesterday… Seemed like the right thing to do if we’re gonna move on from each other…”

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Yeah, but you don’t go and do something rash like that.”

“Something rash? You mean just swapping my work schedule? Last time I checked I didn’t have to consult with you about that.”

He fell silent so you continued, “You can’t just say you’re done with me; that you’re trying to move on, and then come here and get upset because I changed my work schedule. I’m sick of the fucking mixed signals, Joel. You either want me or you don’t.”

You finished your little speech with a loud sigh, sounding annoyed as fuck. The audacity of this man was unbelievable. He can take home some other woman the night before but come to your house, when you’re sleeping, and get all possessive? Enough was enough.

You scooched closer to him on the bed. 

“So what’s it gonna be, huh? Make up your fucking mind.”

Without warning his lips crashed against yours. His kisses were messy and sloppy. And almost angry. His hands found themselves in your hair. This was the exact opposite of what you should be doing but you didn’t care. You missed him so much. 

He pushed against you, coaxing you to lie down on the bed. And when you did, he hovered over you with a hungry, insatiable look in his eyes. He returned to kiss you messily while his hands roamed the rest of your body, trailing down to the pants you were wearing, thumbing at the waistband. You moaned softly underneath him and he pulled off your pants, tossing them on the floor. His hand grazed up your thigh, resting on your cunt that was growing wet in anticipation. 

“Bet you missed this,” he whispered against your ear. 

You let out a small whimper in response as his fingers teased your entrance, brushing against the wet, tender flesh. 

“You’re already so wet for me, darlin’.”

Darlin. That was an older pet name Joel had given you. And it’s been a while since you’ve heard it. That fucker knew exactly what he was doing. He knew all the ways to make you melt under his touch. 

You spread your legs open for him, gaining him access to slip a finger inside you. His mouth found your neck, peppering it with sloppy kisses. You rocked your hips against his hand, desperate for more. And when he finally gave you another finger, you felt the pleasure in your core building more and more. 

His mouth left your neck and trailed down to your entrance, licking small, soft circles around your sensitive clit. You knew you weren’t gonna last long like this, his fingers hitting your g-spot perfectly and his tongue caressing your clit in a way that sent you into intense euphoria. He always knew how to get you cum quickly and hard. 

“I’m gonna cum, Joel,” you whined. 

He moaned against your clit in response, letting you know he wanted to feel it. And when you did cum, it was intense. Your cunt fluttered around his fingers as he pumped them in and out of you relentlessly. You soaked his face in your cum as you rode out your high, rocking your hips against him. Once you were done coming, you collapsed your hips back down on the bed, legs still shaking. 

You were catching your breath when he looked up from your cunt and said “Not done with you yet, darlin’.”

He stood up from the bed for a moment to remove his clothes. You took the moment to sit up and pull off your shirt over your head, tossing it on the floor with your pants. He returned to the bed and hovered over you by your face. 

“Ready for me?”

You nodded and he aligned himself with your entrance, thrusting his hard cock into you extra slow to drive you insane. He took your legs and put them over his shoulders before you even had time to adjust to his size. It’d been a month since you’d taken his cock and you weren’t used to his size anymore. 

He leaned down so you were face to face, legs pushed back towards your head hitting the perfect angle inside you. It was intense and all you could do was moan and whimper as he fucked your wet, little cunt incessantly.

“Can’t tell you how much I missed this perfect cunt, darlin’. It’s like it was made for me.”

Between his dirty talk and the angle he was hitting inside you, you weren't gonna last long. You felt your walls tense up in anticipation of release. He sensed it too and thrusted in and out of you harder and harder, anxious to feel you cum around his cock.

“Give it to me, sugar. Cum on my cock.”

And when you did, it nearly sent him over the edge. He willed himself to wait until your release was over before pulling out. Stars prickled your vision and tears welled up in the corner of your eyes. Your release was intense, convulsing his cock like a vice. As he felt your orgasm come to an end, he pulled out. You reached in between your legs and stroked him to completion, coating your stomach in thick, white ropes of cum.

He slumped down on the bed next to you, burying his face in the crook of your neck. Neither of you dared to say a word as the feeling of regret started to sink in. You let your thoughts run wild as if to avoid talking about what just happened.

“You got a 9 to 5 so I’ll take the night shift

And I’ll never see you again if I can help it”

Maybe you couldn’t help it after all.

[hereforthehitsbaby]

Heyoooo, i just read your say it louder and im in love with that so much like holy, so i was wondering if you could make something kinda similar or something? like maybe logans chasing reader because she stole his cigars and they have a cute moment or something along those lines, maybe end a bit with or with smut? thanks so much babes!

Mine Now | DOFP!Logan Howlett x F!Reader

Warnings: Primal!Logan, Scent Tracking, Shotgunning His Cigar, Marking, Implied Smut, Reader is a Mutant who has invisibility, Enemies to Lovers because I’m a sucker for pain, Takes place at the very end of DOPF when Logan comes back to the future, Pain Kink, Breathing Play, Choking, Claws come out – I repeat the claws come out,

Rating: R – No Minors

Word Count: 4.5K

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for your request! This was a blast to write and honestly? It gave me a good excuse to write for DOFP!Logan! I adore you! 😊 Also completely unrelated side note….you did say you wanted smut, right??? Because I may, or may not, have spaced you said cutesy and went right to horny.

To be tagged in any future work of mine, please fill this out.

“Hank, have you seen her?” Logan asks, his voice layered with annoyance. You couldn’t help but silently snicker as you watched his brow crease, his nose twitch with frustration, his finger rapping at his side impatiently. The way his jaw ticked as Hank narrowed his own eyes at him made it impossible to hold your laughter, even when you were currently pressed up against the wall – a clear view of the situation going down. You pulled your lip between your teeth as you homed in on Logan’s features, eyes glimmering with rage. It was such a beautiful sight to see, one you have been dreaming of for months. Though you’d never openly admit it, everyone knew, all except him. You had to make the chase worth his while.

Logan Howlett is a force to be reckoned with, everyone told you that. When Charles and Eric first recruited you to teach with them in New York – you thought it was a joke, a cruel one at that. Living paycheck to paycheck in a hole in the wall Hell’s Kitchen apartment, dealing with constantly screaming and fighting from your neighbors, it wasn’t where you wanted to be. You were a survivor, you could adapt to anything, but after what you had experienced, you needed a fresh start. Working at a local diner, making shit for tips wasn’t ideal, but it was enough to help you save to leave. Where would you go prior to this? You had no idea, but someplace that experiences winter – you always loved the snow. But alas, that dreary November day a few years ago changed everything; It changed you. Meeting Logan on your first day told you everything you needed to know about him – he refuses to get close to anyone, you wanted to break that.

It's been three years since you first met Logan, two since you found yourself thinking he was cute, a year since you felt yourself falling for him, and six months since you started the cat and mouse chase. At first with how standoffish Logan was to you, you started to resent him. A year it took before that all fell to the wayside; Your feelings had shifted when you found him outside one night, crying as he smoked his cigar. Of course, your mutation left you able to turn invisible, able to watch him, without him knowing you were there. Through the heavy rain your smell was masked, he couldn’t tell you were there. But it made you feel closer to him; He wasn’t some robot who didn’t have emotions. He felt them too strong, which is why when he started to slip back into his mind, he pulled away. Being over 200 years old meant he saw some shit, lost people he loved, it took a toll on him after a while. That day forward you stopped keeping your distance, but instead made the effort to be near him, to show him you weren’t going anywhere.

Slowly you noticed how Logan started to open up to you, telling you stories of when he was young, his first mission with the X-Men. You got to learn a lot about The Wolverine, and come to find out he wasn’t a hard ass – he was sincere, doting, downright admirable. What he dealt with in his years fucked him up horribly to where he didn’t trust people easily – but it didn’t make him less. He always pushed forward and strove for success, to survive. He wouldn’t classify himself as a hero, but he was to you, and he deserved to know. Logan found himself trusting you easily after a year, his lonely nights stuck in his own head turned into game nights with you, strolls through the garden, getting a drink at the bar downtown. He could still be himself, but not have to carry the baggage by himself all the time. Falling hopelessly in love with him was inevitable, but also impossible. Nothing more could happen between the two of you and you knew that – but there was still a flicker of hope in your mind that wouldn’t quiet down. Especially with how flirty Logan had become with you.

 Usually, he was like this with Jean and Storm, taking it up a notch with them so he could have the last retort. To say he wasn’t a ladies’ man was a lie, he could pull anyone he wanted to. To Logan it was a game, seeing how flustered he could make him teammates – and he loved to win. With you it was different – it wasn’t low growls and light touching on your arms, no, it was more. At first to started off to be resting his chin on your shoulder, letting his breath stroke the column of your neck. Slowly it moved out to touches; Holding your waist from behind, rubbing his large hands over your lower stomach, slipping his hands under your shirt to caress your hip. Over the last few weeks though, he upgraded to holding your face, running his calloused thumb across your bottom lip, stealing forehead and cheek kisses before heading out. Rogue and Kitty that you two were dating, even Bobby got in on it – but when you stated you weren’t everyone looked at you like you had six heads.

“No Logan, I have not.” Hank let his eyes pan to where you were hiding as Logan turned away for a moment, giving you a small wink as he played along. After all, this was his idea – well, his and Xavier’s. You had overheard a conversation about how Logan’s cigar smell had been wafting into their classroom’s lately – distracting everyone as Logan taught. Charles had the bright idea for you to nab them and hold them hostage, until Logan learned his lesson. You on the other hand, were far too gone to do that. Instead you decided to take the cigars, but make a game out of it. Little post it notes with clues on where you were hiding, you stored them all over his bedroom and classroom, thanks to Scott. Ever since Jean told you just how primal Logan could get, how good of a tracker he was, you wanted to test it out for yourself. What better way than take the one thing he cannot live without? “What happened this time?”

Logan huffed as he ran both of his hands down his face, coming dangerously close to propping his hip against your body. You had to shuffle slightly as he leaned into the wall, letting his head bounce off the wood a few good times. “Little shit stole my box of cigars.” He looked exhausted, frustrated, and downright sexy. Seeing how lost and irritable he was without them made you smirk, causing you to bite your lip harder to suppress a whimper. You noticed how Logan’s ear perked up as you gulped, his head turning softly. Hank noticed this almost immediately and replied with a whooping laugh.  “Ha!” You sighed inaudibly as you silently thanked Hank, knowing he used his booming voice to mask your sounds. Holding one of his hands up to Logan, he snickered as he cleared his throat. “I’m sorry that was cruel of me. What I meant to say is, that’s funny.” Hank let out a small chortle at Logan’s distain, being met with a flash of a middle finger, and claw too.  “Thanks, asshole,” Logan huffed as he pushed himself off of the wall, running his hand through his hair.

You watched him intently, thanking whoever was listening for making you have the power of invisibility. Being able to listen to everything going down, while Logan has no idea you’re here, made you feel powerful. You heard talks about how your power could be useful, but ultimately not threatening; Now, you’d beg to differ. Though you grew tiresome of the chase, being a fly on the wall versus a real player. It was fun the first two hours this started, but encroaching on hour six – the school clearing out and the sun almost set on the horizon, you grew slightly bored. “Have you tried the library? She likes to hide there.” Hank let out without hesitancy, making your eyes grow wide. It was like an aha moment for you, choosing the most likely place for last. Earlier it was too crowded, people would know you were there the second Logan came looking for you. But now with the young mutants either outside or in the city due to the upcoming weekend, you knew it would be vacant.

“I know her all too well, Hank. That’s the first place I looked.” Hearing Logan say that made your heart flutter, made you feel special that he knew you so well. A strong sigh left your lips as Hank coughed, dreamily staring at Logan as you started to walk backwards. Losing your invisibility for a moment, you stood a few feet behind Logan, walking towards the grand staircase that took you to the library. Waving at Hank, you motioned for it as you smirked, causing Hank to laugh. “You sure?” He asked, nodding behind Logan. As you stood closer to the staircase, you noticed how Logan was sniffing the air – his body growing tense as he spun around. It’s when he laid his eyes upon you that you knew he was fed up. It wasn’t the primal growl and heavy breathing that got to you, but the way his hazel eyes went from green to black in a split section, his chest heaving as he stared at you. “Oh shit,” was all you managed to let out as you turned invisible again, running up the stairs.

Everything was a blur to you, running as fast as your body could take you. Three flights to get where you needed to go seemed like forever, when you were being chased by The Wolverine. He had super human speed, a great nose for sniffing things out, he was at the advantage whilst you were at a disadvantage. Even with scent masking, now that you started to sweat it would make you more obvious, especially when the library was empty. Huffing and puffing as you managed two steps at a time, you refused to look back. But you could hear the stomps of Logan’s boots, clearly taking three steps to match you. Silently you prayed to whoever was listening, to get you to the library safe and sound before Logan got you. The last thing you wanted was for him to pin you to the stairs so everyone could see, that was too on the nose.

Reaching the top step of the library, you managed to sway your way through the wooden chairs and tables, giggling to yourself as you were halfway across the room. Due to the grand nature of the library, especially being two floors, it gave you so many good hiding spots. A circular room to see everything, yet hide in plain sight. As you made it over to the spiral staircase for the second level, you had noticed Logan standing at the entrance of the library, huffing and puffing. It made you snort, seeing how riled up he was. You had to admit, it was sexy to see how pissed off he was, causing a fresh wave of your arousal to coat your panties. Logan seemed to have taken note as he sniffed the air, his eyes cutting across the room straight to yours. “Come on out princess,” he growled, flexing his hands at his side. Slowly you crept up the metal staircase for the second level, taking one step at a time to not elicit any sounds. You let your breathing relax, slowing your heart rate as you kept calm, not needing to give yourself away. But Logan could sense you, eyeing the staircase with every move you made. “I got you now.”

A devilish grin fought to claim his mouth as he pounced over the tables, running on all fours as he landed right at the bottom of the staircase. You managed to get all the way up and around, leaving to the right. Multiple aisles of books covered upstairs, as well as the walls, each window let in the dusk light – showing dust particles roaming the air. Your tell-tale shimmer of invisibility was caught in the light a few times, but Logan was too lost to notice. Finding your perfect hiding spot away from prying eyes, you slotted yourself against the endcap of Psychology of Mutants, knowing no one reads these. You could feel the stagnant beating of your heart at times, wondering if it was due to fear or the thrill of the chase. Maybe it was the aspect of it being bittersweet as well; A years long chase with Logan finally reaching its peak. You knew there would never be going back from this, and that was okay. Stealing his cigars wasn’t the endgame, it was only the beginning.

“You can’t hide forever you know,” Logan snarled as he reached the top of the landing, huffing as he eyed every shelf. You could see him, nor did you want to, hoping to God he chose to head left instead of right. Alas you were sorely mistaken as his heavy steps started to echo right, causing you to curse under your breath. SNIKT, you heard the metallic sound echoing through the room, but also your mind, causing you to whimper. Logan had unsheathed his claws, holding them out. The idea of him using the claws on you, pinning you down with them, holding them against your neck made your body run hot, your arousal heightening as the thoughts ran rampant through your mind. “I will catch you.” It was not a threat but a fact, Logan was not kidding anymore. The animal inside of him was taking over, leaving the Logan you knew behind. This was all caused because you pushed him to the point of no return, and you fucking loved it. The reverberation of his claws against the wooden shelves made you shudder, knowing how close he was getting now.

Biting down hard on your lip, you placed your hand over your mouth, trying to regain control of your breathing. Being right across from the last window on the right didn’t do you any good, especially with the beam of light falling through. If you moved even a millimeter, you were going to be made. It’s then when you opened your eyes to pan to your left that you saw his shadow encroaching on you, his stance wide as his claws were pointed at the ground. Each gruff huff he let out made your eyes roll back, finding it harder and harder to keep yourself hidden. You couldn’t look away from him either, you needed to watch him; How the sweat beaded at his hairline, how his little tufts of hair were wild from pulling at them, how his snarl got more animalistic the longer he tried to look for you. “Where did you go?” You couldn’t describe how Logan sounded in that moment; Primal and animalistic do not even begin to crest.

You focused too much on his tone, completely forgetting your watchful eye on him. When you glanced back after trying to calm yourself, you noticed the 6’2 Wolverine was no longer walking his way towards the aisles but vanished into thin air. Not knowing where he was, made your heart rate skyrocket – panic ensuing all over your body. Goosebumps arose across your skin as you pondered where he could be, afraid to move in case he was lurking close to you. Maybe he went off to the left instead, leaving you by yourself to escape. It would make sense, considering how you heard the creaking of the floorboards on the opposite side now. Letting out a concealed breath, you slowly moved away from the end cap of the shelf, leaving your back exposed. You knew it was a mistake when the hot, stifling air of the closed space became ice cold, a shiver falling down your spine. The sun shifted away in that moment, blanketing the area in darkness, complete with only a sliver of light, not even to cast shadows. The second your back was exposed; All hell broke loose.

Two strong hands grabbed hold of your hips, pulling you back into a solid form. The yelp you let out was loud enough to echo, but not loud enough to raise suspicion. The strain on your powers had gotten to be too much, slowly slipping back into being visible. You huffed out as your back connected with his chest, your hands finding purchase on his muscular forearms. “There you are little mouse.” He snickered in your ear, pressing his nose to the pulse point of your neck. Logan deeply inhaled at the vein, his teeth barring to nip at your exposed shoulder. It felt good to have his mouth on you, to have him seemingly obsessed with your scent. After all, it is what gave you away. Whimpering out, you dug your nails into Logan’s arm, feeling the reverberation of his snarl through your body. You couldn’t speak, you couldn’t move – you were a lost cause. “What’s the matter, cat got your tongue?”

Logan was mocking you at this point, purposely being a little shit to mimic how you have been with him. When it came to his cigars, he wasn’t fucking around. But when he knew it was you who took them, well he wasn’t going to let you live this down. Logan moved from behind you, but kept his hands grasping your flesh. Moving to the side, he pressed your back against the end cap again, bringing you back to your original position. His right hand remained on your hip as his left grasped your neck, pressing against your pulse point, feeling the thrum of blood on your veins. The edges of your vision began to go fuzzy due to the restricted blood flow, but you didn’t care. Logan was putting you right in your place, and you were obeying so well for him. “I believe you have something of mine,” he murmured; His prominent nose pressing harshly against your cheek. The warmth of his breath on your skin, mixed with the cold drag of his claws against your skin made you shiver, loving how it felt too much. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You laughed out, clearly laced with thrill.

Logan didn’t take too kindly to you playing dumb, the tick in his jaw spoke measures. His grip on your neck was heavier than before, using his full weight to restrict your blood flow quicker, your vision developing black dots. “Oh, you don’t?” The challenged in his voice said all you needed to know – he was fucking desperate. There was no hiding it now, he needed you – not his cigars, but you. Gulping down against his large hand, you felt the press of his claws against the back of your neck, pushing through the wood of the bookshelf to lock you in place. He would never intentionally draw blood, or hurt you, but he knew this was your deepest fantasy, all thanks to Jean relaying it. His lips were inches from your ear as he chuckled darkly, groaning out against the flesh. “Do I need to jog your memory?” You shouldn’t have been as turned on by that as you were. Your knees buckled slightly as you almost fell, your eyes rolling back into your head.

Logan took advantage of your eyes being closed to pull his hand away from your hip. The loss of touch made you whine, but quickly you were quieted by his roughened tugs. Grabbing at the edge of your tank top, Logan ran his claws through the fabric to create slits, ripping them open just as easily. Looking down at your jeans, he could see the bulge in your pocket – where you had hidden a few of his cigars. A huff of relief fell from his parted lips as she cut your pocket open, letting them fall right into his hand. He mimicked your hiding and shoved them into his own pocket, moving on to the next. The cool breeze against your exposed skin made you quickly heat up; Logan using his claws on you made you lose your fucking mind. He repeated his efforts with your other side, making matching holes in his jeans and shirt, not caring anymore.

It was as the last few cigars rolled out of your pocket that Logan pulled back, his heavy body heat no longer suffocating you. The contact was missed, causing you to pout slightly. “Boo hoo hoo,” Logan mocked as he watched you, walking backwards to push his back against the window. The sill right below it was begging him to sit, so he took advantage of it. Reaching into his left pocket, Logan pulled out his Zippo lighter – flicking it against his pants to ignite the flame. It was intoxicating watching him, how effortlessly fluid his motions were. Biting your cheek, you watched him intently, his eyes never leaving yours. He pulled out the precut cigar from his pocket and pushed it between his lips, favoring his left side for it to rest between his teeth. Lighting the end until the cherry burned bright, he took a few quick puffs, blowing the smoke out in a cloud around him.

Your eyes could not pull away from him even if you tried, it was nearly impossible. The way he moved was like silk through the wind, so effortless and elegant; He knew he was hot like this. Taking another quick drag, Logan let the smoke fall from his lips as he tucked the cigar back in between his teeth, putting away his lighter. Reaching forward with his claws still extended, he hooked two of the blades into the belt loop of your jeans, tugging you forward. There was about a person’s space between the bookshelf and the window, making it easy for him to grab at you. Of course, your body obeyed his silent command, tripping slightly as you tried to regain your footing. Placing both of your hands on his thick, warm thighs, you licked your lips. The smoke being released from both the cigar and his mouth captured your attention, making it difficult to focus on what he was saying. The way his motions flowed were so smooth, it was impossible to say anything else to him.

Taking a rather large drag of his cigar, he puffed his cheeks out a bit to hold it all in. It took you by surprise, why he was holding it all in his mouth. Retracting his claws on his right hand, Logan grabbed at your jaw like a man possessed, pushing his meaty fingertips into your flesh. The slight ache of his possessiveness made your mouth part, a pained look on your face that you were lost in. Logan got close to you, his lips only mere inches away from your mouth as you whimpered. With your lips parted, Logan mimicked your motions as he breathed out. The soft, heady tendrils of smoke wafted from his mouth into yours, causing you to let them stir. Tobacco mixed with the sweetness of the wrap caused your eyes to dilate, boring into Logan with pure unadulterated lust. There was no mistaking it as he shotgunned his cigar with you, his smirk prevalent. “That’s my good girl.” He crooned, taking in your big eyes, the heat of your skin – basking in your glory.

You blew the smoke right back at Logan while he chuckled, licking his lips to wet them as he took another puff. There was something so intoxicating about how you reacted, it was like watching a painting come to life. From the first day he met you, he knew you were something else – he had to challenge you. Almost four years later and you’re still trying to get with him, he admired it. Finally, the silent love he had for you could be shown, but he wasn’t going to make it easy for you. You made him work to catch you, now you had to work to get what you wanted. “Get on your knees.” The command fell off of Logan’s lips so naturally you almost didn’t catch it at first. Your eyes glossy as you watched him, your brain not keeping up. Narrowing his eyes at you, he cocked his brow as he laid the cigar to the side, watching to see your reaction. “I’m sorry?” You questioned without realizing, your face slack with lust.

Reaching forward towards you, Logan grabbed your neck once more, this time yanking you so close to his face that you felt his breath waft over your features. “Get. On. Your. Fucking. Knees.” There was no hesitation in Logan’s voice as he stated his command, letting his face go rigid to show he was getting pissed off. “Don’t make me repeat myself.” You wanted to, every fiber of your being wanted to disobey him, make him angry so he was rough with you – at the same time you didn’t want to make him mad, not yet anyway. Nodding to him against his hand, you slipped down to your knees easily with a moan, pressing out your wet bottom lip as you gazed up at him.

Logan rolled his eyes as he grabbed the cigar again, pressing it against your lips. It’s when you take a drag of it that he pulls out, putting it in his own mouth once more. With his hand now free from holding his cigar, he quickly flicked open his belt buckle, undoing the top button on his jeans as you took the silent command to pull his zipper down. His erection was stiff against his jeans and left nothing to the imagination. He was big, he was hot, and he was fucking turned on. Watching you with a lustful glow in his eyes, Logan groaned as he watched you, never letting you have the last word: “You may have started the game princess, but I am going to finish it.”

----

Tagging: @livelaughl0ve3 @mehjustalasshere @allen-444 @begaytotallygay @tezooks @hughj1d @mami-veracruz @salemslostwitch @karencaribou @princesstarble @dirtylittlefairytales @hbwrelic @mosscrissfemmefatale @pinkanonwriting @craziersarah98 @actuallybridgetjones @silversprings-mp3 @lokidovahkiin

[wowitsverycool]

people who posture that odile forgiving siffrin and thinking The Time Loop is cute is out of character are a little silly... she is such a creature of practicality that it simply would not make sense for her to hold a grudge. and the 'cute' bit is her weird old lady way of recontextualizing the loops as not only necessary (as she explains later) but also *not worth being ashamed of*.

she is adding levity to the situation *and* building a brick wall of "it doesn't bother me, so stop apologizing about it" to signal to siffrin to stop arguing about how Evil it Makes Them. it expands upon her established character by showing that she is quickly learning to meet siffrin at their level while maintaining that sense of practicality. like "oh you think your yearning makes you awful and disgusting? bro it's not even a big deal. it's cute. i am more interested in discussing literally anything else about what happened."

the alternate perspective she offers is also one that shocks siffrin out of their own perspective (and evidently the perspective of some players lol), which has been the precipice of her character for the entire goddamn game!! think about it! the sus quest, the toilet paper scene, the end of her friendquest where she corrects siffrin on why her mood has improved -- she is constantly challenging what siffrin has accepted and resigned himself to!! all of the main characters embody change in different ways, but odile is arguably the only one who *actively rejects* stagnation in all its forms. so it only makes sense that what siffrin endlessly ruminates on -- the morality of their desire for closeness -- odile flippantly dismisses.

it wouldn't make sense for her to be Angry and Unforgiving because that's what siffrin expects (and, in a way, wants). it would be contrary to both her role in the narrative and her established character. her forgiving siffrin is maybe a bit jarring (as it is supposed to be), but not unnatural. It Just Makes Sense.

also, total forgiveness is neither unrealistic nor unsatisfying. it's just something that is often deemed 'too sappy' to properly depict.

[yuvany]

LIKE THE DAY MEETS NIGHT (NRK - 西村力)

💿 ─── nishimura riki (enhypen) x 𝒇 ! reader ┊ fluff + mentions of a fight + hints of gossip ┊ school ! au 𝐰𝐜: 800

reblogs + feedback always appreciated !!

The contrast of your cool palm against his warm and aching face felt like a delight he could only dare to experience once in his life time. Maybe hurting himself in the process of saving your name was worth it, knowing that you were safe and sound was all Riki wanted to acknowledge.

All he wondered was why you didn't care about what people said about you. Their words seemed to hurt him more than they hurt you, and so he made it his mission to take care of those people, but he didn't know why. Something about you just felt as if it needed protection - something unspoken and something he wished to uncover, and sure, it might sound bad coming from his end, but he'd never deny helping someone kind and pretty. — (more under the cut)

Looking at you right now, you seemed calm and unbothered, only worried about his current predicament that covered him in bruises and roughed up knuckles. "What got you so worked up." You clicked your tounge at him, letting your fingers graze his red and swollen knuckles that he used to beat people up with. You knew this, everyone from a distance would notice the evidence that he was fighter and not a lover, but you didn't question him. While the only thing Riki could focus on was the soft skin of your hand against the roughness of his, and how you could still look at him with adoration even after knowing what he'd done. You could only admire his bravery for standing up for you, his swollen knuckles being evidence of this.

"Them, of course." He states bluntly, his teeth gritting against each other at just the thought of them. "You keep mentioning 'them' every time you land here. Who are they?" You asked, grabbing a pack of ice from near by as you use it to cool his injuries. The sudden cold biting at his skin, causing him to flinch, but he didn't pull away becuase he trusted you enough to take care of him, and because he liked the attention he was getting while being under a bright disco lamp.

"You know those guys from your class. They keep talking about you-" "Ohh them. Why even bother with them?" You cut him off with a scowl on you face, replacing your previous smile. Riki sat silent on the profilling bed, watching your figure hover over his wound. He bit his lip at the stinging sensation, but didn't tell you to stop because maybe the close proximity was nice. "You don't need to help me." Riki muttered enough for his words to reach your ears. "Are you crazy? I can't not help you after you beat them up for talking about me." You said, your eyes locking with his after cleaning the dried blood off of his knuckles. His face flushed a tiny bit at being exposed so openly by you. "You knew?" He asked. "Of course I knew."

He turned mute after that and on the inside you wondered if it was the right thing to tell him. You knew the fragility of mens egos, and letting him know that he was exposed might not have set the best mood, but yet again, you barely knew him except for the fact that he was in the same grade as you. The tall guy waited an extra couple of minutes in the office after being treated by you who was on break from lessons. The smell of lemons filled the infirmary and it smelled like freshly cut lemon.

Riki sat there, his shoes hitting against the floor that followed the rythm of the clock as he rolled his thumbs over each other while being deep in thought. "Excuse me." He called out, grabbing the sleeve of your uniform when you walked by. You hummed out a reply of acknowledgment and for him to continue. "How did you know?" It took you a while to realise what he was aiming at. "My friend told me." One second your hand was cupping his cheek to cool it down, now, you were the cause of them rising with heat again.

"You're Riki, right?" You asked, breaking the silence that had fallen over the two of you, and he nodded. "Yeah, why?" He looked up at you from his low chair with curiousity and his eyebrows arched in confusion. "How about we get to know each other better." You said, shuffling with your feet. "A way to thank you for your efforts, I mean." You said, awkwardly as you couldn't meet his eyes. A glint shone in his eyes as he heard those simple words."Sound awsome, y/n." a smile beggining to spread across his face that failed to conceal his excitement.

[bam-stroker]

I got possessed by the opportunity for silly in @keferon's Texaid mech au and ended up with a slice of serious as well. Oh well, Bone Apple Teeth! - - - - -

Every muscle and joint in First Aid’s body aches. Flopped over the official break room lunch table, his face has been buried in his arms for at least twenty minutes. He’d taken one tired bite from a sad little sandwich at the start of his break, and now it’s just wilting beside him before he officially decides to just trash it. To be honest, he can’t find the energy to actually care. After months of cleaning up the messes left behind by that thing, lunch has become a “me time” escape for him as opposed to an actual meal. 

Well, to an extent. It can only be so much of a solo time with the cross over of employee lunch breaks. 

“You know, it’s not good to skip a meal when you work as hard as you do.” 

The sentiment is entirely sincere. Even face down, he can see the exact sad little face across from him. Those familiar blue eyes always twinkling with feeling. First Aid only grunts in acknowledgement. Why does Tailgate always have to be so… caring? He thinks to himself. Somewhere in the back of his mind, the memory of harsh laughter echoes at his thought. But it’s mechanical. As if that… machine is now a part of him. Haunting him. Or maybe it’s like a disease? But he can’t think of any illness where something like that can listen and watch to see the world through his eyes. Haunting it is then.

Whatever. He’ll take more time to care about that when he’s able to lift his head back up. Below his breath First Aid mutters, “I bet you like that, huh? Wearing me out. Must be so funny.” 

The voice in his head has nothing to say. 

First Aid huffs. Jerk.

Tailgate on the other hand, continues to pry. “So… Were you talking to him just then?”

Great. He’s saying shit out loud. Stellar! Amazing! This is going to do great things for his crumbling people skills. First Aid musters up that one sandwich bite’s worth of energy left in him to sit up. The popping of his joints should be concerning, but on the priorities list—stepping into a death trap daily as a new career—it’s hardly the top of it. 

“Look, Tailgate, I’m sorry. Yeah… I was talking to—” he starts to reply, and then cocks his head in confusion. “Wait, did you just say ‘him’?”

And there goes the old Tailgate big wet eyes shine. He nods his round little pale face, the short crop of his bleached white hair bouncing with the movement. “Well, yeah! Vortex is the one haunting it, right?” 

First Aid can’t help but sigh, slumping back into the uncomfortable break room chair. “Come on,” he replies. “Don’t tell me you’re another ghost believer?” 

He tries to keep the shake out of his voice. He tries to keep up the act, because if he admits it… if he admits it then it all becomes real.

Tailgate nods, giving a thoughtful hum as he eyes the sandwich waiting patiently to be eaten. “There’s a lot of stuff I don’t understand. But, it feels easier to talk about it like that,” he says. Looking back up to lock eyes with First Aid, there’s a weight behind his gaze. “You’re not the only one cleaning up the messes around here. So let me be a little superstitious to help me get through the job.”

With a heavy sigh, First Aid breaks the eye contact. It’s too much. 

He crosses his arms, staving off a shiver from the memory of the first time he ever cleaned up the mech. Of the look on Tailgate’s face, so scared, when he’d handed him the remnants. 

The janitor and the wannabe medic. What a sad sorry pair.

All First Aid can offer is a nod of his head in acknowledgement, before he changes the subject. “So yeah, I’ve been talking to…him. It’s about all I can do, since he’s the one, ugh, actually driving.” 

Tailgate gasps loudly, as he leans forward. “It’s like reverse Ratatouille!”

“What??” 

“He’s the rat, and you’re the chef.” Tailgate continues, an entirely too excited smile on his face. 

“No!”

“Yes!!” 

First Aid groans, rubbing his palms against his eyes. “Tailgate. Please. How is this anything like ratatouille?” He pleads.

Between the cracks of his fingers, he watches Tailgate gleefully lay out his vision. “Everybody thinks it’s you—but it’s really him driving. So you’re like the chef, but instead of being on the outside, you’re on the inside—that’s why it’s reverse—because the rat is in the hat driving the guy like some kind of chef mech suit in the movie. But the ghost mech is driving you. So you’re reverse ratatouille!”

There are no words. There’s absolutely nothing he can say in response to the nightmare of his new life being summed up as accurately as “reverse ratatouille”. 

With a weary sigh, First Aid leans forward on the table, staring down as if some other answer to what his life has become will appear like a magic eight ball in the scratched up countertop. 

No such luck. It’s the same table he’s looked at day after day. 

“Reverse Ratatouille…” First Aid murmurs. A haunted look in his eyes.

“Reverse Ratatouille.” Tailgate chimes back chipperly.

Far off in the haunted abyss of his mind, First Aid hears the crystal clear laughter of the mech at the revelation. 

Reverse Ratatouille.

[jules--pirsecon]

The thing about salaried jobs maybe not enough people know about is since they pay you all at once for the whole year, they have you on the hook for the whole year. Also since they're not on the clock, their bosses feel entitled to ALL of their time. That means you don't get overtime, calling you up after hours, even time off gets blurry. They also try to squeeze you for all your worth since the more work they get for that same flat salary, the less they're paying based on time or per task. I think the point of critical mass where how much someone gets paid vastly outweighs the work they do is higher than most realize.

And at the end of the day, if you care about workers' rights, you should care about ALL workers' rights. The people up top who actively want to strip rights benefit from workers blaming each other. Solidarity forever.

[meliciousmel13]

̗̗̀̀➛ BUSY

warnings: just pure angst

wc: 1,800~

SYNOPSIS: she’s always working. and your drifting apart because of it.

an: idk about this one guys

She was always working. Couldn’t last an hour without writing something down on her notes app, or fucking relax for a day. you quickly got tired of it after a few weeks into your relationship.

She was always out. couldn’t stay still or stay at home. whenever you did agree to go out, the only thing you could think of was all the cameras you knew were on you.

You loved billie. you loved her to death. she was the love of your life. but she’s never around. and on the rare occasions that she wasn’t working, she would be too tired to do something fun with you.

You were desperate all the time. practically begging for her attention. you felt like a stranger in your own skin. having to sleep in an empty bed nearly all the time, even when billie does sleep with you, you still feel uncomfortable in her arms. because you weren’t used to having her near you. not used to having someone hug you from behind. not used to being so warm and safe.

You knew you were falling apart. you knew months ago—you’ve been knowing. but you still chose to ignore it. the way she’d slowly forget about some things you said when her usual arm around the shoulder turned into nothing. the usual giggles when she did something stupid slowly turning into sighs.

It was depressing—not saying anything—refusing to even believe it yourself was depressing. that you were drifting apart. that she wasn’t your billie anymore. she was her job.

You loved her passion. you loved when she rambled about her music and how she creates. but whenever she’d mention a tour your entire brain turns into mush. you know you should be happy for her—proud—but you couldn’t. going on tour means that you couldn’t even have her. couldn’t hug her or lay your head on her lap.

The tour ruined you even more. as if you weren’t already on the edge. You used to call every day, her voice that kept you from spiraling too far. You used to sleep on call, her soft breathing on the other end a lullaby that made the distance feel less suffocating. But now, but now—there was only silence. She didn’t call first anymore. Didn’t check in. Your phone stayed painfully still, the void between you stretching wider with every passing hour.

When you did call, it rang too many times. Sometimes she answered, distracted, her voice tinged with exhaustion. Other times, she didn’t. Excuses piled up—interviews, rehearsals, travel—but they felt hollow. Like maybe you weren’t worth the effort anymore. Like maybe the space she filled in your life didn’t exist in hers.

You tried telling her about your concerns, you tried. a million times you tried. but they never work. so you thought that maybe when she comes back from tour you’d try again. to tell her. so she can fix it. She always fixed everything.

She came back from tour exhausted. She was free for a whole two months. even though she wasn’t totally free, she still had to work and prepare but you were still ecstatic, and billie couldn’t be happier to see you.

“Baby!” Billie gasped, her arms sweeping down to catch you as you practically launched yourself into her embrace. Your feet barely touched the ground as she lifted you, holding you close, too close, like she was afraid to let you go. Still in your pajamas, with mismatched slippers, you looked ridiculous, ridiculous on camera. But you couldn’t care less. All that mattered was her, the warmth of her body, the scent of her hoodie, the soft thrum of her heartbeat that grounded you.

“Billie,” you mumbled into her neck, your voice muffled against the fabric, but she felt so real, so solid in your arms, you almost forgot how much you’d missed her. She hummed softly, she hummed and you could feel the vibrations through her warm chest.

“I missed you so much,” she whispered, her words catching in your hair as she pressed a lingering kiss to the top of your head. Her hands slid down your back, steadying you as your legs dangled. Her arms tightened around you, pulling you even closer, and you felt that familiar tug in your chest like you could lose her if you weren’t careful.

You nodded against her shoulder, fingers clutching at the back of her hoodie, desperate to keep her there, like if you let go for even a second, she might slip away. “I hate it when you’re gone,” you admitted, the words feeling heavy as they slipped out. You didn’t want to be this vulnerable, but it was too late.

“I know, angel,” she murmured, her voice soft, but firm, like a promise. She cupped your cheek, tilting your face up to meet her gaze. Her blue eyes sparkled in the harsh airport light, but there was something else there too, something that looked like guilt—or maybe it was relief. You weren’t sure anymore. “I’m here now. You’ve got me.”

You bit your lip, trying to hold back the flood of emotions threatening to spill over, but before you could speak, Billie leaned in. Her lips brushed over yours in a kiss so gentle, so tender, it almost made your chest ache. Time seemed to slow, the noise of the airport fading away, until it was just you and her in your own little world. When she pulled back, she smiled, brushing a thumb over your cheek.

“And by the way,” she teased, her voice lighter now, but you could still hear the exhaustion in it, “nice pajamas. Truly a statement.”

The bus door closed behind you, the hum of the city fading as the world outside was left behind. Billie dropped her bag on the seat with a soft sigh, her shoulders slumping slightly as she slid into the booth. The energy between you felt different now, quieter. You had tried to keep the lighthearted mood going, but the silence between you two was thick, almost palpable.

You sat down across from her, legs curled up beneath you, waiting for her to say something, anything. She glanced up briefly, offering you a quick smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, before looking back down at her phone.

“I’m just really tired,” Billie murmured, the words barely above a whisper as she tapped on the screen, distracted. “I’ve had a long day.”

You nodded, unsure of what else to say. The warmth that had been between you earlier felt like it had slipped through your fingers, leaving you in the cold space that now seemed to stretch between you. She didn’t look up again, her attention solely focused on her phone, her fingers swiping with mechanical precision.

“Yeah, I get it,” you said softly, glancing at her, but she didn’t seem to notice.

Billie let out a soft sigh, the kind that spoke volumes without a word. She finally looked up at you, her eyes softer now, but her voice still distant. “I’ll be better tomorrow. Just… tired, y’know?”

You nodded again, a faint ache tugging at your chest. Her words were meant to reassure you, but the emptiness in her tone made it harder to believe.

The seconds stretched into minutes, and the space between you felt wider with each passing moment. Neither of you spoke, the quiet pressing in on you both as the bus moved down the road.

When the bus finally came to a stop outside the house, you felt like you were stuck in slow motion. You stepped out, your legs unsteady, but you couldn’t shake the weight in your chest. Everything around you was the same, but the air between you and Billie felt different—colder, heavier.

The door clicked shut behind you, and you lingered for a moment just inside the entryway, eyes on the floor.

Billie moved past you, her footsteps echoing softly through the quiet house as she dropped her bag by the door and hung her jacket on the hook. She didn’t even look at you.

You took a breath, trying to steady yourself, but your heart was already pounding, the words stuck at the back of your throat. You didn’t want to do this. Not now. Not like this. But you knew if you didn’t say something, you’d lose her completely.

You barely whispered her name. “Billie?”

She didn’t turn to you right away. “Hmm?” Her voice was soft, tired, distant. She didn’t sound like she was really listening.

You swallowed hard, your chest tightening. You could feel the pressure of four years, of everything you’d been through together, weighing down on you. It felt like you were standing on the edge of something, like if you took one wrong step, it would all fall apart.

“I—” you faltered, your voice trembling, but you forced the words out anyway. “I feel like… you’ve been so distant. I don’t know what’s happening, but it’s like you’re not here anymore.” You winced as you said it, like admitting it would make it all real.

Billie stopped what she was doing but didn’t turn around. The silence between you felt endless, like she was taking her time to decide how to handle it. You could feel your hands shaking at your sides, a deep ache in your chest that made it hard to breathe.

“I’m just tired, baby,” she said after a long pause, her voice quieter now, almost apologetic. “Tour, everything… it just gets to me sometimes. I didn’t mean to shut you out.”

You nodded, though it didn’t make you feel better. You wanted to believe her, you really did, but the distance between you felt too real to ignore. You took a shaky breath, barely able to meet her eyes. “I don’t know if I can keep pretending like everything’s fine when you’re like this.”

Billie’s shoulders stiffened slightly, but she didn’t turn around. Her hands were still on the counter, gripping the edge like she needed to steady herself. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, barely loud enough for you to hear. “I didn’t mean to make you feel that way. I just… sometimes it’s too much, you know?”

Your heart sank at her words, but you didn’t have the strength to push her further. Instead, you took a slow step toward her, voice small but desperate. “I just need to know that you still want this. Want me.”

There was another heavy silence, and you weren’t sure if you were ready to hear what she’d say next. You stood there, trying to keep yourself from shaking, barely able to breathe as you waited for her answer.

Finally, she turned toward you, her face soft but guarded. “Of course I do. I just need a little time, okay?”

You nodded, but it felt like a fragile promise.

taglist: @chrissv4mp, @billiesguitar, @ilovebillieeilish2000, @d14n4ol, @raspberrymacaroon if your not a part of this list but want to be comment under my taglist post, which is on my masterlist.

b.e masterlist | m.b masterlist | s.r masterlist | taglist

[taliesin-the-bored]

Tag game: tag nine people you’d like to know better.

Tagged by: @oneshoulderangel (Thank you for tagging me!)

Last song: At the moment, I have "Losing Your Memory" by Alan Star stuck in my head, which I suppose makes it my current song, not my last song. Hm. I get songs stuck in my head very easily, but the last one I had there for a significant amount of time was a mashup of different language versions of "Les Rois du Monde" for about a week. "Lehetsz Király", the Magyar version, is probably my favorite of them. It's worth a listen.

Currently watching: Normally, the answer would be "random mostly terrible old movies/shows" or "nothing much", but I currently have a hyperfixation on the musical Roméo et Juliette and have been watching it in multiple languages. (Thus, the song).

Three ships: This is hard. Maybe as a result of being on the ace and aro spectrums, I'm more likely to care about which characters are interacting than whether it's romantic or platonic. Here goes:

Kedivere/Bedikay. It can be romantic, platonic, or queerplatonic, but whichever way, I'm here for it. I probably spend too much time thinking about how in Cullwch and Olwen, when Cai gets mad at Arthur and marches out, Bedwyr stays behind, keeps acting like nothing's happened, and isn't the one to avenge Cai's death. The feeling of betrayal on both sides has a lot of unexplored potential. And the version where Bedivere dies and Kay fights to bring his body back safely while mortally wounded himself... And the version where Bedivere survives Camlann and Kay isn't said to fight in it, so they might be left together after their world has fallen apart...

Platonically or queerplatonically, Galahad and the Grail Heroine. I really like the tragic Grail Quest friendships, but I like theirs most, maybe because there's something weird and otherworldly about them both. I like it when characters are strange and endearing and doomed by the narrative.

Ever since reading John Matthews' retelling, which I read before the original, I've had a soft spot for Caradoc and Guinier. The Story of Caradoc is very disturbing, and I have some major qualms with Caradoc over a detail Matthews cut out, but all the same, there's a reason these two have the best track record with magical fidelity tests. Each of them would go to the ends of the earth for the other, and together, they're stronger than any curse.

Favorite Color: Blue, particularly royal blue and some teals.

Currently consuming: Black licorice with chocolate.

First ship: This is a hard one, since through elementary and most of middle school, I tended to go along with whatever I thought the author's intentions were and was more likely to unship something. The first non-endgame ship I got invested in was Sonya/Nikolai in War and Peace. I didn't like Nikolai, but Sonya did, and she was my favorite character, so I wanted her to be happy. The first non-canon couple I thought was meant to be together was also in War and Peace: Marya Bolkonskaya and Julie Karagina. My eighth grade self did not think their letters could be interpreted platonically. I still don't.

Last movie: If the musical doesn't count, the last movie I watched was Quest for Camelot, which was awful. Though not Robot Monster-level bad, Robot Monster has an elegance to its simplicity which Quest for Camelot lacks.

Currently working on: Various fics, most of them Arthuriana or CotRK-related (I am woefully behind on the Badfic Bingo), and (theoretically) an epic-style poem, though I haven't gotten much of it written for quite a while now.

Tagging: @gawrkin, @emperorcandy, @wildbasil, @gorewound, @knightsofsomethingorother, @ladyminaofcamelot, @tasosotaso, @amashelle, @gingersnaptaff (I have no idea who's been tagged so far, apart from the people on @oneshoulderangel's post, so I apologize for any multi-tags)

[edwinspaynes]

Did I have a really bad night last night in no small part because of a s2 spoiler? Yes. Did I have a Payneland Meltdown? Sure.

But this morning I have gained clarity, and a couple of things have made me feel better about some of the spoilers. I'm going to share them with you in hopes that it will quell some anxiety.

George and Jayden seem extremely excited about the season 2 that they read. It appears super genuine in the new Gameodens, and even if you wanted to argue that it was For the Hype, George also seemed really pumped about them before the show was canceled. They don't seem like performative people regardless, but past behavior also indicates that, yes, the excitement is real.

Both Jayden and George expressed that Charles and Edwin are soulmates. They have read all of the available scripts, and they are still expressing that (very true) sentiment.

They also explicitly said that Edwin and Charles are basically married anyway and that "dating" would be a "step down" for them.

Re: the "fight" that triggered my Episode last night: there is genuinely no way that the boys would have fought for an entire season, let alone forever. It wouldn't make sense and would be antithetical to the entire point of the show. Not to mention George and Jayden having professed them soulmates! "Tense for a lot of it" could mean many things, including that things were tense for a lot of the fight (rather than the season) and got less tense as the fight progressed. "A lot of it" could also just mean 1-2 episodes since they don't really fight.

George and Jayden also explicitly said that disagreements could be healthy, so I'm going to believe that they meant they came out stronger on the other side.

Also, as a kind soul in my comments last night said, there's really nothing for them to fight over besides each other. It probably would have been out of love anyway.

Re: the Catwin sex. Disclaimer is that I don't mind this because I've always thought it would be an interesting plot point. BUT, as a hardcore Payneland shipper myself,I understand why people might not like it. Please remember that it's part of a story! It's the middle of a story, not the ending! Catwin is likely, as I hoped for, a step on the journey toward Edwin figuring out that he only wants these experiences with Charles. Every road leads back to them.

I actually think that Jayden and George might have said that all roads lead to them as well in one of the Gameodens, but I don't know where. Maybe I dreamed it.

We are getting tiny little snippets of 8 hours worth of television. We have maybe a collective 150-character Tweet and 1.5 minutes of out-of-context video spoilers. Catastrophizing doesn't make any logical sense. (I'm not talking down to anyone here, I promise. I'm repeating the mantra I told myself for like an hour last night.)

Season 2 was also not intended to be the last season! They wanted 6! This is Act 2 of 6. It's not even the middle of the story!

[cordycepsfem]

I'm not preaching, which is what you seem to be doing with your appeals to emotion. I told you there are sources out there to find and they're all perfectly accessible. Khelif, like all people with DSDs, is not related to trans issues at all, so I don't really see much point in continuing with that avenue of conversation. It seems to mean a lot to you, so please by all means go find the sources that you're demanding I find for you.

If people didn't have it out for trans gals, why is the worry about getting estrogen an issue? Why is getting puberty blockers an issue?

"Trans gals." Yuck. You sound like a 45-year-old autogynephile.

Maybe there's a worry about getting estrogen because people tend to catastrophize. Or because men (and women) don't actually need to take cross-sex hormones, because it's not proven to help gender dysphoria or accompanying mental health conditions.

Maybe getting prostate cancer drugs - aka "puberty blockers" - is an issue because children should not have their puberty blocked, lest they end up with osteoporosis, emotional and mental stunting, and under-grown sex organs, an inability to ever orgasm, and further mental health issues not cured by the magical drugs shilled by gender clinics.

But that might just be me.

Gender doesn't mean ANYTHING in the purely literal sense.

Great, so why are you trans?

It's some idiotic concept someone came up with eons ago. But then why should you care how people identify within that social construct?

I see my thoughts about selfish and uncaring people taking away spaces and rights from women and girls made 0 impact on you. Unsurprising.

Gender is not something "someone came up with." It is a societal structure that has always benefited male individuals and left female individuals oppressed. Because of gender, women are thought to be weaker, dumber, less deserving of education, unable to own property or have their own money, get jobs, or even in some places, unable to be around males without wearing full-body coverings.

I don't care how people "identify," because I know that "identify" means "isn't." If you have to tell me you "identify" as a woman, okay, great. What are you identifying with? Which woman are you identifying with? Women are adult female humans, and while we're all different, the one thing we all have in common is being female. So what exactly is there to "identify" with?

You're right. Gender was (possibly, I haven't done enough research to verify) created to keep women down. That's despicable.

Yes, you're very definitely 14.

And now gender is "despicable" - great, so why are you trans? Seems weird to want to play directly into the hands of a social construct that oppresses women and was literally just described as you by "despicable."

And if you stand with us, you can help make sure that someday, gender means nothing more political or oppressive than a name, or a haircut. Or you can stand against us, and reinforce the idea that gender is the measure of someone's worth. Someone born a girl, in the truest sense, isn't any less of a person than a boy and doesn't have any less potential. So then why should someone born a boy not be able to stand with her sisters and try and make the world a better place, one voice at a time? Birth conditions isn't what makes a person. It's what comes after.

Radical feminists believe that gender is immaterial, because biological sex is how women are oppressed. Women can have any haircut or any name - being female is how "gender" oppresses. I don't believe gender has any worth. I don't believe in it.

Someone born a girl "in the truest sense" doesn't have any less potential than a boy, but around the world that girl is more likely to be aborted before she's born, left to die once she's born, have her genitals mutilated, married off to an adult male, never learn to read, die in childbirth, have to avoid males while she menstruates, face rape and domestic violence, and have her rights voted away by males. So no, it's not anyone's "gender" that determines their potential - it is oppression on the axis of sex.

Birth is literally what makes a person. I know you thought you killed it with that line, but you literally need to be born to be a person.

So Miss @cordycepsfem, please stand with your fellow sisters, cis AND trans, and help us make the world a more livable place for an woman. I believe in you.

Males aren't my sisters. You want to go all out for trans rights - have a ball. Fix everything for trans people. It's noble and you'll definitely have my support.

But it's not women's job to make the world more palatable for males of any kind. Feminism is not the "all rights matter" movement. It is for women and girls, and it will be the means by which the world is made safer for them.

"Trans women are actually women for real, not in a metaphorical sense, not in a "anyone can be anything" sense, but genuinely actually make more taxonomic sense to classify in the category of women than any other group" is a position you'll find is pretty radical even in queer spaces

[nadvs]

the act of unravelling (part two)

pairing rafe cameron x pogue! female reader

rating mature 18+

summary you never expected you’d get tangled up with a kook, least of all, rafe cameron. one night, you make a life-altering decision to get revenge on someone you both despise. after you vow to keep what happened a secret, your relationship begins to twist into something more.

tags very dark! violence, homicide, drug and alcohol use, parental neglect, mental illness, s/a, trauma. no smut.

< prev

Rafe stands and looks down at the body, his fists clenched tightly. Reality is setting in now. He could go to prison. His future could be ruined.

He’s perpetually at the mercy of his impulsivity, thinking only of the minute he’s living in, burdened with the consequences later. But still, even with his head a little clearer, he doesn’t regret this.

Ripping away the life of a man who wronged him was a thrill. He spends every day feeling like he’s losing and the power he had in his hands tonight felt so fucking good. He won for once.

You feel heavy as you push yourself up off the floor. You wish you could curl up in your bathtub under hot, gushing water, washing away everything that happened tonight.

The corpse is harder to look at with every second that passes. You glance up at Rafe, blood splattered on his face as he stares down at what he’d done, at what you’d done, chillingly unfazed.

“We can’t leave anything that’ll point back to me,” he mumbles, his voice low over the fireworks still crackling outside.

“Or me,” you have to remind him tensely.

His eyes land on yours. He’s always only looking out for himself. He doesn’t know what it’s like to have to worry about someone else.

“I’m serious,” you urge. Your survival instinct rushes through you for the second time tonight. You refuse to let Rafe throw you to the wolves. “I saved your life. You owe me. I won’t take the fall for this.”

“Well, neither will I,” he snaps.

“You shot him.”

“I could say you did,” Rafe replies. “And it’d be your word against mine. What then?”

You scoff, in disbelief of his selfishness.

“I saved your life,” you repeat. “Does that mean nothing to you?”

Rafe swallows hard. He’s not sure many people would do what you did for him tonight. They’d watch. They’d let him die. The possibility that you might feel something for him makes his chest twist with an unfamiliar warmth.

“We’ll look out for each other, alright?” he relents, letting his guard down for a moment. “Let’s just clean this up.”

Your phone buzzes in your pocket again. You pull it out, seeing Pope’s name. Twelve missed calls.

You hope your friends don’t get so worried that they come up here, ignoring the Off Limits sign Porter had put up across the stairs. But they don’t know where you went. You’re almost certain.

“My friends keep calling me,” you whisper.

Rafe’s jaw tightens. His friends aren’t worrying about him.

“You can’t answer them,” he snaps.

“I know.” You let out a shaky sigh, tucking your phone back into your pocket. “We have to be fast. What do we do? Do we bury him?”

Rafe takes a beat to think.

“We dump him in the ocean,” he finally says. “We go to the marina and drive my boat out far enough where nobody will find him.”

“How do we move him so nobody sees? We can’t go through the house. We might run into someone.”

Rafe looks to the glass door on the other end of the room, the balcony offering a view of the inky night sky.

“There,” he says. “We’ll push him off and put him in the back of my truck.”

You consider it. Of the limited options you have, it seems like the only one worth trying.

“Okay. We have to clean the blood off the floor,” you say. “And everything we touch needs to be wiped. Maybe there’s something with bleach in it around here?”

For the first time since you entered this room, you feel hope. There’s a chance, a real chance, you could get away with this. You look back at the desk Rafe ransacked.

“Pick that stuff up,” you say. Frustration rolls through him. He never liked being bossed around. “I’ll try to find something to clean with.”

“Don’t let anyone see you,” Rafe mutters.

“How stupid do you think I am?” you huff before you turn towards the door.

You tiptoe through the second story, peeking into a bathroom cupboard. When you find a spray bottle that reads Cleaner and Bleach on the packaging, you grab it and head back to the room.

You and Rafe move quickly and quietly, using clothes you found in the closet to wipe everything with bleach. After a loud, consonant cracking of fireworks that you assume is the grand finale, the show ends. And you know people are on their way back to the house.

The neighbor’s private beach can’t be that far away. You have a minute. Maybe two.

You’re glad Rafe thinks to find the shell of the bullet. He puts it in his pocket. You spray the bleach over the floor again, cleaning every drop of blood you can see.

“Tuck this stuff under his shirt,” you say breathlessly, handing Rafe the bottle and the blood-soaked clothes.

You can’t do it. You know you’ll need to touch him when you move him, but you’d rather limit the contact you have with his body. Even dead, when he can’t hurt you, touching him is terrifying.

You pick the gun up off the floor, then open the balcony, relieved you can’t hear any voices yet. You peer over the edge to see the sandy ground. The balcony overlooks the side of the house, dark and secluded.

Rafe grunts as he drags the corpse out onto the balcony. You have to muster up every bit of strength you have as you help heave Porter’s body over the railing. He falls with a hard thud, facedown in the sand.

You have to jump the balcony. You can’t risk going downstairs. Rafe is wide-eyed as you hitch your leg over the railing, looking down with shaky breaths.

“Wait,” he whispers. “Let me go first. If you break something, we’re fucked.”

He shifts down as low as he can before letting his feet hang over the edge. He lets go, dropping hard, his ankles pinching with pain from the impact.

“Okay,” he says. “Go.”

You feel a splinter dig into your palm as you clutch onto the wooden railing with one hand while the other holds the gun. You make the split-second decision to keep the balcony door open to air out the smell of bleach.

You hope you cleaned away every drop of blood in the room. There’s no going back to it now.

You sink, hanging as low as you can, looking over your shoulder before you drop. Rafe’s arms wrap around you as your feet hit the ground, his chest hard against your back, breaking your fall.

“If someone comes,” he whispers in your ear, “run.”

Waiting for him to get his truck is torture. The humid night air presses against your face and you can’t bear to look down at the body on the ground.

Rafe returns and you move quickly, straining as you carry the body over the uneven terrain, the soles of your shoes slipping on the sand.

Once the body is in the trunk and Rafe unfolds the cover, blanketing the cab and concealing the evidence, you feel a shred less frightened.

You glance back into the darkness just in case. A glow of a phone screen is in the sand. Rafe is already behind the wheel, demanding that you get in, his voice carrying through the open rear window.

You feel for your phone. It’s still in your pocket.

“Do you have your phone?” you whisper.

He responds after a moment, “Yes. Get in.”

“I think his phone fell on the ground when we were carrying him,” you say. “We should–”

Faint laughs in the distance interrupt you. There’s no time to run back and get the phone without being seen.

“Get the hell in,” Rafe mutters angrily.

You obey, swinging open the door, barely closing it in time as Rafe peels away. Your muscles prick from the weight you’d just carried as you drive past the partygoers coming back from watching fireworks.

“Holy shit,” Rafe chuckles, near elated. “We did it.”

You stare ahead, your head foggy.

This will haunt you for the rest of your life. The thought forces a torrent of dread through you worse than you’ve ever felt before.

What if you’d run out of the room when Rafe and Porter came in? What if you’d left Rafe to deal with the body on his own?

What if you’d never gone upstairs?

You’re destined to agonize over the what if’s of tonight forever.

You gaze down at the gun in your lap and hold your hands out in front of you, skin stinging from the bleach. You’d wiped away the blood, but you think you’ll always see it on your hands.

You figure out that it’s a good thing you left Porter’s phone. If he was sharing his location, you’re sure the police could track where it was last before you threw it into the sea with him. They’d know exactly where to look for his body.

“We should shut off our phones,” you realize. “I think they can track GPS history from cell towers.”

Rafe digs into his pocket, glancing down to watch the screen go black.

“How’d you think of that?” he mumbles with a laugh. “Is this not your first time doing this, Pogue?”

“Nothing about this is funny,” you reply.

“Relax,” he says. “We got away with it.”

“You can’t be so sure,” you say. “One fingerprint in that room and…”

You can’t think about it.

In the paroxysm of emotions you’re already feeling, guilt digs a hole into your stomach when you see Pope’s most recent text before you power off your phone.

Answer the phone. We’re worried.

·········

The clock on Rafe’s dashboard reads 10:44 when you reach the marina. He parks right by the main dock. The place seems quiet, the water crowded with seemingly unoccupied boats.

“I’ll take a walk around to make sure we’re alone,” he says, pulling his key out of the ignition.

The car door slams shut and you’re left with a gun in your lap, a body in the trunk, and your tormenting thoughts.

Maybe you missed something back in that room.

You picture Porter’s phone lighting up in the sand. His last text to you said to come upstairs. When the cops inevitably start searching for answers, you’ll be questioned.

A minute later, Rafe swings open your door, pulling you out of your daze. You meet his glare, his hair tousled and sweaty.

“We’re good,” he says. “Move.”

Having to haul the body over the dock past darkened, quiet boats is unnerving. Ater you leave it at the back of Rafe’s boat, you stand behind him at the helm.

Your arms are crossed and the gun is tucked by your elbow, because if you learned anything tonight, it’s that you can’t trust anyone.

Rafe’s still a man. A man who takes what he wants when he wants it. A man who killed someone because he didn’t obey him. He could hurt you if he wanted to. It’s best not to be alone with him.

“I should wait in the car,” you mumble. Rafe shakes his head in frustration, driving the boat forward. The boat’s motor hums as you rock with its movements.

“No,” he mutters condescendingly. It reminds you of why underneath the stubborn pull you’ve always felt towards him, you’ve also harbored a quiet fear. Rafe is violent. Possibly enough to hurt you the same way Porter did.

You feel for the gun again. If two men have to die tonight, so be it. The fact that your mind went there chills you.

Rafe looks over at you, lips twisting in annoyance.

“Don’t feel bad for that asshole,” he mutters. “He asked for it.”

It’s the worst possible thing he could’ve said. Your throat is raw with the threat of tears. Asked for it. Would he say the same about what happened to you?

“I don’t regret it,” you tell him, sure that he’s assuming that that’s why you’re so tense. “I’m just worried we missed something.”

“If we did, nothin’ we can do about it now,” he says. You look ahead at the dark sea, moonlight shining over the water’s ripples.

“We need to figure our story out,” you say. “How’d you end up upstairs? Did anyone see you?”

“I stopped him while everyone was going outside to watch the show,” he recalls. “Told him to show me where he was keeping his coke because I heard he was selling again. It was loud. I don’t think anyone heard, but maybe someone saw. I don’t know.”

“Why do you sell?” you ask, face pinched in confusion. “Why did you even care that he was selling, too? You don't have enough money already?”

“I gotta keep your tips coming, don’t I?” he says smugly. You scoff, jarred by his blasé attitude, despising his cold arrogance.

He notices the angry scowl on your face. He’s convinced he’ll never break through the hatred you have for him.

“I want to make my own money. That’s why,” he admits. It’s half the truth, but it’s good enough.

It’s surprising to hear that Rafe, a man you thought coasted on the wealth he was born into, possesses a work ethic. Even though he uses it to deal drugs.

“Did anyone see you go upstairs?” he asks.

“I don’t think so,” you say.

“Why were you there?”

You chew on your lip, the truth sitting on your chest like a ton of bricks. There’s no point in telling him. He thinks your motive was the same as his. Money. And you’ll let him believe it.

Besides, talking about it now, merely an hour afterwards, will only make you cry again and your head is pounding from how much you’ve already wept tonight. How could you possibly say it out loud?

“To buy pot. Then I smoked too much and passed out.” You keep talking before he can ask anything else. “Are we far out enough?”

Rafe looks back to make sure the marina is out of sight before he kills the engine.

Pushing Porter’s body over the guardrail is harder than the other times you’d carried him tonight. The water is rocking the boat so much now that you’re far into the ocean. Your breath is strained as you heave him over the metal, his body hitting the water with a loud splash under the bright moon.

Rafe pulls out the bullet shell in his pocket and tosses it in the water. You know you have to throw the gun in, too. It’s hard to. But you do it.

Rafe looks over the edge now that everything is sinking to the bottom, his forearm brushing against yours. He notices how quickly you jerk away, refusing to let him touch you. The pull he feels towards you is obviously one-sided. Your eyes flit away when you look at him.

“You have blood on your face,” you tell him soberly. His temper flares, feeling stupid for thinking a girl could feel anything but afraid of him after he shot someone right in front of her. Even though she was the one who told him to do it.

You might have a deadly thirst for revenge in common, but that’s where the similarities end. He stalks past you to wash himself off in the bathroom below the deck.

You let out a shaky breath. The unexpected contact with Rafe startled you. After tonight, you’re sure you’ll always be scared to be around men you don’t know all that well. Even the ones that seem decent are just lions in sheep’s clothing. The monster that proved that to you is below the ocean’s surface now.

You look into the murky water, and despite the fear and the anxiety and dread weighing on your heart, you’re glad that this is how it ended. Porter paid the ultimate price for what he did to you. He doesn’t deserve to live, to smile, to feel anything ever again.

·········

You and Rafe sit behind the hull, the boat swaying with the tide. You start to piece together an alibi and decide to admit you were upstairs together. If even one person says they saw either one of you go up there, you won’t be caught in a lie.

As you talk, Rafe can’t take his eyes off of you. You’re clearly scared, but trying to stay level-headed. He doesn’t get how you do it. He’s always been bad at keeping his mind steady. He never had a reason to even try.

“So, I went up first after he texted me to come buy from him,” you say, hoping your voice doesn’t shake. “I got high and passed out. Then you came up with him to find his stash. We’re obviously going to have to come clean about the drugs.”

“What do you mean obviously?”

“You’re going to be a suspect the second the police start talking to people,” you tell him. “Everyone knows you had an issue with him. And why. You can’t lie about the coke. And they’ll have evidence that I was buying weed from him. We have to be honest about it. They’ll find out anyway.”

Rafe sighs, knowing you’re right.

You hug yourself as a cool breeze carries over the water. The weakness in your gaze reminds Rafe of the way you’d cried on the floor earlier tonight. Before all this, he only ever saw you as strong-willed and sharp-tongued.

Even though calming a man like Rafe down when he’s angry sounds like it’d be impossible, you figure it’s the only direction your alibi can go.

“We’ll say I talked you down and…” You shake your head. “It doesn’t make sense that we’d stay up there. I think we say we left him in his room and sat on the beach alone in front of the house to watch the fireworks from there.”

You worry it’s not enough. You’re certain that no one who knows either one of you would buy that you voluntarily spent time together.

“Maybe the cops would believe we hung out,” you mumble, “but nobody else would.”

Rafe stills. His friends like to give him crap about how much time he spends talking to you when he supposedly hates Pogues. If he told them he was with you all night, they’d say they saw it coming.

“They could,” he says after a few seconds of silence.

“My friends would never believe it,” you scoff. He purses his lips, pissed off at your tone, at the clear implication that you talk shit about him with your friends.

“It’s our only option,” he mutters sharply.

“You’re right,” you give in. “Then what? We went home before people got back? I guess that way if anyone saw us leave together, we have it covered.”

“Yeah.” He clears his throat. “That’s the story.”

“Okay. It’s not great, but it’s the best we can do.” You check your phone for the time, only to remember it’s turned off. “Can you drive me home now? I’ll say my phone died. You should do the same when people ask where you’ve been.”

Rafe doesn’t admit to you that nobody was checking up on him, that nobody ever does. He only stands up to drive back to the dock.

·········

Your first priority when you get home is to text your friends, guilt consuming you now that it’s been over two hours since you last saw them and they have no idea what happened to you.

You turn on your phone to see a string of missed calls and texts from the guys. You open the group-chat and type: I’m so sorry. I’m okay. Got too high and lost track of time. Home now.

They video call you to be sure that you really made it home safe, drunkenly rambling on about how they assumed you went to see the fireworks early, leaving them to search the neighbor’s beach for you.

As you listen to them talk over each other on the phone, it’s the first time you see your reflection since you left the house, when you were oblivious to the fact that the impending hours would change you forever.

You can see it in your eyes that you’re not the same. You can only hope that they don’t catch on.

·········

It’s been three days. You haven’t been sleeping. You’ve hardly been eating. And no matter how many times you tell yourself there’s no use in thinking about how different the night could have turned out, it doesn’t stop your head from spinning into hypotheticals.

All you told your friends was that you were with a boy and that they didn’t need to know any more. Because they all see you as a sister, they were happy to be spared the details.

If only they knew. A few nights ago, you promised them you wouldn’t talk about Rafe ever again. You never would’ve thought the reason would be because you’d committed a crime together.

You’re back at work. Smiling and chatting and serving drinks and acting like everything is fine is harder than you expected.

The thought of seeing Rafe again is oddly comforting. No matter how twisted it is, you have a bond now, held together by secrecy and shared trauma. He’s the closest to knowing what you’re going through.

Even though you were afraid of him on the boat, when he dropped you off, he waited until you got into the house before he drove off. Maybe he sees you as someone he needs to protect, even if it is for his own selfish reasons.

No matter how unhinged he is, having someone like him in your corner is comforting after what you’d suffered through.

You spot Rafe sitting alone at the near empty club bar on your way out and your heart settles, but when you catch a glimpse of the flatscreen mounted on the wall a moment later, it drops. You knew it was inevitable, but it doesn’t make it any better.

Rafe swallows bitter whiskey, gazing up at the tv. Under a photo of Porter reads MISSING as his parents speak to the press. What if he went missing? Who’d care? What would his dad say – at least it wasn’t Sarah?

He looks down at the bartop. The thrill of what he did has faded. It’s not a surprise. His life is nothing but a cycle of short-lived highs.

When he sees the look on Porter’s parents’ faces on the tv, jealousy and loneliness screw a hole into his heart. He knows it’s fucked up to envy the man he killed. He doesn’t care.

His eyes drift over the bar to see you standing on the other end. You’re in shock as you stare up at the broadcast, looking guilty as hell. He glares at you until you finally meet his eyes.

Rafe curtly gestures to you to sit next to him. Even though he looks mad, you’re relieved to close the distance between you.

“You’re being obvious,” he says quietly once you sit next to him, an edge to his tone.

You look back to see only a few other people sitting in the restaurant area behind you, far from earshot. You won’t be heard, but you both know you have to speak vaguely just in case.

“Someone I know is missing,” you reply. “It’s normal to be worried about that.”

“What do you know about normal?” he scoffs.

You lock eyes, sure that you’re both replaying the night in your minds, sure that you’re both far from sane after what you did. His gaze is cold, a reflection of how angry he is that you’re not handling what happened as well as he is.

“Great talking to you,” you snip sarcastically, shifting to stand up.

“Wait,” he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. He looks at you again, this time with a bit of the hardness in his eyes gone. “We need to talk.”

(to be continued)

if you want notifications on when i post my fics, follow @xorafe-library and turn on notifications 💘

if you enjoy a fic, reblogging is the best way to thank and support the writer!

[mystlael]

Batfam Incorrect Quotes

Jason: I’ve come to a point in my life where I need a stronger word than fuck.

Bruce: You either buckle down and do your work or you’ll end up at McDonalds. Robin!Dick: We're going to McDonalds if I don't do my work? Bruce: NO-

Jason: FIGHT ME, YOU NERD ASS SLUT! Bruce: At least try to sound slightly more sophisticated when you threaten someone. Jason: Oh, I'm sorry. I should ask; dost thou want to engage in a duel, my good bitch? Bruce: Somehow that's worse.

Roy: Talk dirty to me, baby~ Jason: The dishes. Roy: Wh- Jason: They’ve been there for 4 days and it’s your turn to wash them. You still haven’t cleaned them and I have asked you to do so several times.

Jason: I am working on this whole Good Guy thing, but anyone who cuts me in line at Starbucks deserves to have their kneecaps shot out, okay?

Steph: What's my sexuality?! I don't fucking know! I'm not straight, and that's all that matters. Well, maybe that's unfair to the straights. Some of my best friends are straight! Well, one of them. Well, I know them, and Bruce is a perfectly tolerable person in small doses!

Robin!Dick: H-how do you ask someone out? Bruce: Well, first- Selina: Don't ask him, he asked me out on a Gotham rooftop in the rain. Dick: ...And you said yes?

Damian: I wish I had more enemies. Talia: I’m sure you will someday, honey.

Tim: Ok so, apparently the "bad vibes" I've been feeling are actually severe psychological distress.

Tim, slamming pots and pans together to the rhythm of "Give it to me, I'm worth it": I didn't get no sleep cause a' y'all! Y'all never gonna sleep cause a' me!

Jason: I have been tricked, I have been backstabbed, and I have quite possibly been bamboozled.

Tim: I’ve made a spread sheet of all the crime in Gotham. Tim: There’s so much crime, no one should live here.

Steph: Uhh.. Damian just asked if we want to… Steph: “Fell the mighty before their time and display their carcasses in our homes?” Dick, not even looking up from his phone: He's asking if you wanna cut down Christmas Trees. I told him he had to spend more time with you guys Steph: Oh, that makes more sense.

[dissapointu]

fluffy story with Vi and a chubby S/O:

Vi wasn’t used to this.

Peace wasn’t something she got much of growing up, nor something she felt she deserved after all she’d been through. The chaos of Zaun, the fight to survive, the battles she had to win just to keep her loved ones safe — it left her wary of anything too quiet, too gentle.

But then you came into her life like the warmth of sunlight filtering through a cracked window. You were soft in a way that scared her at first. Not because you were fragile, but because you had a way of making her feel like maybe, just maybe, she could let down her guard.

And that was terrifying.

You didn’t flinch at her scars or the edge in her voice when she got too worked up. You saw her for who she was and didn’t turn away. And somehow, you made her believe she could be someone worth sticking around for.

•

It was a chilly morning in Piltover, and Vi was up early for once. You were still tangled up in bed, wrapped in a blanket like a cocoon. She leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, just watching you sleep for a moment.

Her tough, street-smart exterior softened as she smiled. You looked so peaceful, your chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.

She slipped back into bed carefully, not wanting to wake you just yet. But as soon as her arms wrapped around you, you stirred, mumbling something incoherent as you snuggled closer to her.

“Good morning to you too,” she chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“Mm… no morning yet. Sleep,” you grumbled, half-buried in her chest.

“Sleep, huh? You’re cute when you’re grumpy,” she teased, gently poking your cheek.

You cracked one eye open to glare at her playfully. “Vi.”

“What? I can’t admire my partner in crime first thing in the morning?”

You groaned, but a smile tugged at your lips despite yourself. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet, here I am. The luckiest insufferable person alive.”

•

Later that day, Vi decided to take you on one of her favorite little adventures through the streets of Piltover. It was a rare day off, and she wanted to spend it spoiling you.

“Where are we going?” you asked as she led you by the hand, weaving through the bustling market.

“Patience, babe. You’ll see,” she said with a mischievous grin.

The two of you stopped at a quaint bakery tucked away in one of Piltover’s quieter corners. Vi had been here a few times during patrols and always thought of you when she saw the display of pastries and sweets.

She bought an assortment of treats, insisting you pick out anything you wanted. “Don’t hold back on me now. I know you’ve been eyeing that chocolate tart,” she said, nudging you gently.

“You’re too good to me,” you said, blushing.

“Damn right I am,” she said, slinging an arm around your shoulders. “But you deserve it.”

As you both sat outside, sharing bites of flaky croissants and buttery cookies, Vi couldn’t help but admire you. The way your eyes lit up with every new flavor, the way you laughed when she accidentally got powdered sugar on her nose — it made her heart swell in a way she never thought possible.

The afternoon turned into evening, and the two of you ended up back at home, sprawled on the couch. You were cuddled up against her, your head resting on her shoulder as she absentmindedly played with your hair.

“Hey,” she said softly, breaking the comfortable silence.

“Hmm?”

“Did I ever tell you how much I love you?”

You looked up at her, surprised by the sudden tenderness in her voice. “Not today.”

“Well, I do. A lot,” she said, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “You’re everything I didn’t know I needed. And I know I don’t always say it the way I should, but I’m glad you’re here. With me.”

Your cheeks flushed, and you felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes. “Vi…”

She pulled you closer, her arms wrapping around you like a shield. “You don’t have to say anything, babe. Just let me hold you, okay?”

You nodded, burying your face in her chest as she held you.

In that moment, you realized Vi wasn’t just your partner. She was your home.

And for someone like Vi, who’d spent most of her life searching for a place to belong, you were hers too.

[taldigi]

crisis aside I think that "kids can handle dark stories if they have happy endings" is just going to apply to me forever.

I think games are awesome for having multiple endings, especially if one of them is happy- or at least hopeful. Heck- even better if some are bad.. because that makes the happy ending better? Worth working for?

as I get older I find myself drawn less to dark and hopeless media. I still appreciate that kinda stuff when it's the middle of the story- a little bit of salt to bring out the flavors of a dish and all- but when the story ends and "they never spoke again and they grew apart" or "everyone died anyway because they never had a chance and the world is cruel and cruelty is eternal." or "they put aside their passions forever because the waking world does not take kindly to love and the path of least resistance is the correct one"

Maybe if the characters I love can face darkness and still come out the other side better people facing a new sunrise with the people they love, then maybe there's hope for me too.

im not really going anywhere with this. Im just talking to myself.

[teaguehq]

Of course, because what's getting kisses without giving them too?! And it's true, you do mean a lot to me, and difficult not to care about you a whole lot. The Salem trip was a lot of fun, the best part being the time with you, no doubt. Though I'm missing that and you right now, so I'm glad the weekend's almost here and I get to fly to you. I know we had a bit of time with your premiere, which I'm still so proud of you for, by the way, but it felt like no time at all! I'll always dress up with you any Halloween, I promise that! Plus you have to admit we looked pretty amazing in our costumes. Not surprised you have so many projects lined up with how talented you are, though I'm always grateful for the time we get together. It just means a lot that you're so understanding about distance and you get it since you're an actor too. And well, that now I can be excited whenever I land new roles and share that excitement with you and not worry otherwise! Your support always means the world to me, too. Thank you for always reminding me of those things too, since the last thing I'd want is to lose you. You're too important to me for that, you know? Also glad we'll always work out our schedules somehow. I'm still thrilled you don't complain about my clinginess when I know I can be quite a bit clingy! I can't help myself when it comes to you, though. And if it means being in your arms a lot, I'd never complain about that in the least. I love planning dates for you, in case that wasn't obvious, and I always love the dates you plan too, Joseph. They're so well thought out, and it means a lot to me. The hike and the hot springs was easily my favorite part of it, and I think we should do that again before filming ends here, don't you think? I absolutely still daydream about the hot springs and everything we got up to, and well, since I'm visiting this weekend, we could always recreate those in the tub, don't you think? I'll admit it was exciting thinking maybe someone would come hiking past us, though I liked that it was just the two of us. The smartest move you've ever made, being my boyfriend? Don't mind me blushing about that. I can say the same though, that being your boyfriend is easily one of the best decisions I've made too. I play so much worse when you're distracting me, but again, not a complaint in the least. How are the knitting projects coming along?! Because you're right, it's been chilly here in Canada and those could always come in handy. It never has to be very long for me to miss you, for what it's worth, since I do so much of the time. And you can cuddle with me as much as you'd like when I get there, promise. I won't tell Bach you said my cuddles were better! I'm so glad we got to spend time with Jamie and Anya too, and their haunted adventures are always so exciting! I'm so happy you think they like me too, since I do like them. We'll have to tell him we'd love to see some of the Catacombs then! I'll just make sure to kiss you and hold your hand all the way through. Double dates with our friends make me happy too, so I'm always for those! I'm still laughing thinking about us visiting that pub as well, especially when it flooded and you had to carry me! My hero for making sure I didn't get wet, though. We'll definitely have to make more memories there, without a doubt. I'll never get enough of hearing you tell me I'm sexy, that's just a fact, or get enough of you, either. That's what we'll do this weekend then, sleep in a little and kiss in bed as much as we'd like. Which just means you can silence me with kisses as much as you'd like, too.

Your place in New York is honestly so amazing, and I'm looking forward to when we can be in the city more to spend time in both our places, since I feel like I haven't even properly broken in my apartment, either. Of course I'd be happy to come to London with you when you're missing it, since I love that city too! We'll save the rooftop bar for when it gets warm, and good thing there's plenty to do in the cold months in New York. Like there are so many places that play live music, and I'd love to take you to all of those! It makes me smile that you'd always be willing to fly to where I am too, and needless to say, that's mutual. I'd love to visit more pumpkin patches, given how much fun we had with the ones we've visited! I'm all for another cooking class too, and it's a lot of fun learning new recipes together. We can't know too many of those, right? I'm really excited for taking you to Florida sometime and showing you where I grew up, not to mention meeting Bentley too! He's always so excited every time he sees me, he might be missing me a little. I usually try and do any work they need done at the sanctuary too, which I hope you wouldn't mind helping out! Last time I was there, I helped build a fence, which was really cool. Between that and camping, we'll do it all! I'm already excited for a romantic vacation once we're finished filming, and I'm almost tempted to say it should be somewhere with hot springs since we liked that so much! And you're definitely the best view for being so handsome, there's no doubt about that, and especially when you're blushing. Sussex was such a good time, maybe our vacation should involve that again too?! What do you think? You showed me plenty both in the hot springs and in Salem too, both of which I enjoyed quite a lot. I wish you could wake me up that way every morning, is what I think, since it's far better than any alarm clock. I'd love more of those showers this weekend too, since showering with you is easily one of my favorite things. I'm glad the wanting's mutual too, because there isn't a time I wouldn't want you, love. You can already see a future with me? Don't mind me blushing and hiding my face, and that honestly makes me so happy, especially when I can see a future with you too. I can understand it being scary to say out loud since there's a lot of vulnerability to that, but I understand, and trust me when I say you're not alone in that thought, not in the least. Well, you're a beautiful person, and getting to know you better just always reaffirms that. I'm picturing you pouting in your trailer because I wasn't there, and I just want to kiss you for it. And I always love being on set with you and seeing you work, especially when you're all dressed up like a superhero! I don't think the director is ever going to let me live down that I just abandoned a scene to say hello to you, either! He still asks if you're visiting today and if he should be ready to stop mid-scene. He's hilarious about it though, so at least it's become a funny inside joke! I'm just glad I repaid the favor of you flying out there once we were alone, no question about that since I wanted to. I can't wait until we can break in both of our apartments then! And we can visit the rooftop of mine even if it's chilly, we just won't stay up there for longer than briefly taking in the view, maybe having some hot chocolate. The picnic in Salem was so fun, and honestly, I think picnics with you are my new favorite thing. I'm excited for when I can cook for you more, knowing how special it is to you. Your love language being physical touch was obvious, but I enjoy every second of it, honestly. I'm really glad the weekend's practically here and I'll be on my way to you. I don't know if it's because filming's been going on a while or the material is pretty dark or a combination of both, but I'm just starting to feel a little worn down. So being in Spain with you for a few days is just what I need. | @josephafq

i'm glad that you'll always be happy for getting so many of my kisses -- and you know that i'm very happy to get all those kisses of yours in return! it really makes me smile hearing you say that i mean a lot to you and that you care so much about me, you know? i agree that the weeks leading up to us being together do feel rather long, but i'm really glad we had all the time we did together thanks to the salem trip. and thank you again for dressing up with me, love, this was the best halloween to me. yeah? i feel the same way, and honestly, i know i've got a lot of projects lined up, but whenever i'm not filming and i get more time with you, you know i'll be happy. i'm always going to be understanding when it comes to you, especially when you're worried about something, you know? and i really do understand why you have these hang-ups over a relationship ending because of distance, but i'll admit that it makes me feel a little sad that you felt hesitant to tell me you had a new gig of feel happy about it. because you know i'm always going to support you, yeah? i want to celebrate those new gigs with you, because i'm so proud of you. but i can understand it'll take some time to ease, and i'll just have to make sure you always know that i'm here, i'm not going anywhere, and there's no way that you'll lose me. we'll always make things work when we're apart, love, there's no doubt about that. it's safe to say that i love your clinginess, if that hasn't been obvious by now. plus, i'm pretty happy that you feel better that i'm clingy too, and i love having you in my arms a whole lot. the dates you plan are amazing, and it makes me happy that you like the dates i plan too. oh, i'm still smiling about that date because it was pretty amazing, especially the hike to the hot springs! i got to ask, are you still daydreaming about being in there with me and what we got up to? because i am and wish you were here right now getting up to those things with me again. i'm glad they were mostly private too -- though it did add a little bit of excitement to us playing around and possibly getting caught, right? i love being your boyfriend, baby, there's no doubt about that, and i'll say it was the smartest move i've ever made. what can i say? it's so much fun distracting you, but i love it when you're still able to play some music even with me being distracting. you'll be having some of my knitting projects soon, love, which is perfect because it'll be winter time before we know it! i know it's only been a few days, but i really am missing you right now. i'm glad that i have bach for cuddles, but i'd much rather be getting to cuddle with you. i'm glad that we got to spend more time with jamie and anya while we were in salem, it was neat going on a double date with them that also was a haunted adventure! plus, i think they really like you, and you have no idea how happy that makes me. oh, if i told jamie we wanted to visit catacombs, he'd jump at the chance to take us there, no doubt about that. look at you being my hero though, i love it, and i'll love all the kisses and handholding, of course. i'm glad you're all for more double dates, it makes me happy that we've got so many friends we can have double dates with! it's safe to say that if we go back to that pub, i'll be carrying you again i hope you know, can't have you getting wet and all! plus, it'll be fun to make more memories there together, yeah? i'm just being honest, love, you're so very sexy and i'm always going to tell you that --  just like i'm never going to get enough of you either. i miss waking up to you during the week too, and we were spoiled in salem, and i'm already missing it so much again. but i'm glad when i'm able to be with you and i can get all those kisses and get to stay in bed for a while, i love that. yeah? cue me silencing you with kisses all the time then!

i'm glad that you love my new york place already, love, since i really do love the thought of you staying there with me while we're in the city -- i love that i get to share it with you! and i'm so glad that i'll be living so close to you as well, and that we both plan on being in the city when we're not working. though when i'm missing london and we're not working, you'll come back with me, yeah? i'm a little sad it's getting colder in the city as well, because i would have loved to gone back to your favorite rooftop bar one more time! but we'll find something else fun to do next time we're in new york. it's safe to say that i love all the dates that you plan, love, and you know i'll always be happy to fly to wherever you are, no matter where i'm at. i was just thinking that, next year we'll have to visit more pumpkin patches together. what do you think? i'm all for going to another cooking class with you as well, because we really did have a good time -- and i loved that what we made turned out so well, and i know learning to make more things with you will be a lot of fun. i'm really looking forward to going to florida with you, love, i know camping will be fun, but i know i'll love the sanctuary too! plus, i think it's so sweet that bentley might be missing you, and of course i want to meet him too. i'm glad that you like the idea of us having a romantic holiday when we're finished filming, love. and i'm thinking we should brainstorm because i want us to pick a place that we'll both really enjoy. you keep making me blush by saying i'm the best view and calling me so handsome, but i'm always going to think you're the most handsome. i'm really glad that sussex is one of your favorite places to visit now and glad that we made the memories that we did. plus, i love that you'll enjoy having the same room and access to the beach, not to mention that tub. i had a feeling you really liked that tub. oh, i was very much showing you some of those things in the hot springs that weekend -- and i liked to believe i showed you some of those things while we were in salem too. i think i need to start waking you up in the way i woke you up a few times while we were in salem more often. what do you think?

happy to hear that you love taking showers with me, love, and of course i'm pleased you can't resist me whenever i press you against the shower wall, because i love that you can't resist me since i can't resist you. it's just the truth, baby, i'm always going to want you, no matter what and all the damn time. i'm very grateful we've met and we're in each other's lives this way as well, i'm happy you're my boyfriend, and honestly, that i can already see a future with you, you know? which is a little scary to admit out loud, but it's the truth. i'm glad i can have you as much as i'd like, though, love. you're making me blush calling me beautiful, and saying the more you know me the more you feel that way. we really do get each other, and it makes me so happy. i love that you know you can be open with me, just like i love that i can be open with you. can i just say i came into my trailer today and pouted because you weren't there with me? though i'm glad i at least had that friday with you before we went to salem, that was wonderful. hey, i had to think of some reason why you wouldn't hear from me! but i'm glad it was a great surprise, love, and it still makes me laugh a little that you shut down a scene just to run to me. oh, you more than repaid me with what we got up to in your trailer, and i loved every minute of it. i love the idea of breaking in my new york apartment once we have more time, and of course breaking in your apartment a little more too. i've been thinking about that rooftop of yours, honestly. i'm glad we got to have a picnic in salem while we were there, love, and the spooky element just added to it! plus, i'll always love when you pack my favorite things -- but also when you cook for me, it means so much to me. i feel like you're taking care of me, and i love that, it makes me feel so good. i had a feeling words of affirmation was one of yours, love, just like i'm pretty sure another one of mine being physical touch is obvious. i'm glad you feel so lucky to be my boyfriend, love, and i can't help but say it again that i'm missing you so much already. the weekend can't get here fast enough so i can be with you again. || @teaguehq