#this is genuinely how i kept in mind how System functions work when i was taking a Java class

[garden-eel-draws]

Ah, yes, calling a System function.

Also known as calling upon a wizard to use a tiny sliver of their vast, unknowable magicks to System.out.print()

[bunnidid-reviews]

is it frowned upon to wish that one could dissociate or have an alter take over in moments that are awful and stressful? genuine question

Hmmm, this blog is really more intended on reviewing and sharing media about complex dissociative disorders, or could easily be related to CDDs. Certainly not an advice blog for this or anything else > < I think any more general questions about DID can be forwarded to @sundropglass (main blog) if at all, just to stay on topic here.

But since you asked, I may as well share my perspective a little bit. I urge you to read it all.

Of course it's something anyone would want. Shut off and let the stress be taken care of for someone else? go off to fairyland a bit? It's actually an extremely sophisticated way of functioning in the midst of trauma; tuck it away, get through the thing that you might otherwise feel like you're dying from.

But where does that stress go?

Say that you had a very stressful day. Maybe one thing after another kept going wrong. And all day, there was absolutely nothing you could do because you had to carry on with a smile on your face and act like everything's fine, while more dismays pile on top of you. Maybe on top of that, you end up having an argument with a loved one and now you have social anxiety and no sense of safety or relief.

This is not out of the norm. People live very stressful lives all the time. It builds up though, all that stress is piled into your immune system if you don't have any release.(Expressing emotions in a healthy manner) It comes out in the ways that maybe you get ill, or spend all day in the bathroom, or get a migraine. This is what we call the body keeping the score (a book I should read tbh). What the mind doesnt handle(dissociates from), the body will.

This is what people with CDDs regularly go through. Trauma = stress that's beyond your range of coping. Chronic trauma means chronic stress, just stored away in pockets upon pockets where its never dealt with until much later in life. This is why I don't think I know a single system who doesn't have some sort of chronic health issues. The initial trauma may not have killed them, but maybe the health issues that come from all this chronic stress might just finish the job.

This isn't even addressing what the disorder implies mentally.

Look up the symptoms of PTSD, look into personality disorders, attachment disorders, anxiety, depression, suicidal ideation. Any trauma-based symptoms could come with a CDD, because there's nearly nothing special at all about DID or OSDD. They're not sectioned off 'incredible' disorders as much as media or people on the internet will imply. We are normal people who have been hurt. A lot.

We have this disorder because no one came to save us, so we had to turn to ourselves, sometimes at an extremely young age. There's no measuring the amount of hurt it takes for a young child to feel this alone.

Going off this ask alone, but because you wish you could dissociate to such the intensity as you're suggesting, tells me that you haven't actually. Daydreaming or spacing out is a very minor case of dissociation, but the level at which you're having alters would imply that you're hoping to dissociate much further than you actually think you want. Do you not want to recognize your own spouse, or be completely unable to be present in the best moments of your life? This doesn't shut off when you're happy again.

Say fine fine fine, yes yes yes to all of this, you could deal, because at least you'd be another person who would bear the responsibility for you.

I hate to tell you this, but that's not how alters work. They are, at the end of the day, still part of you. They don't magically whisk away all this stress they face, they'd still hold onto it, be strongly effected by it, and you're a lot more likely to have the same stress come back over and over again and go unprocessed because of the fragmentation involved.

If it's to ease off some of the responsibility of being yourself, then.. Well that's not what happens with DID either. Those of us with a CDD tend to feel overly responsible for everything around us, actually. It's not the escape you're hoping for.

In a short answer: Yes it is very believable to want this disorder, to want alters. That's understandable even!

But I'm also going to say this is frowned upon. There is a LOT more to these disorders than some spacing out and some cool characters. I hope you can understand a little more why this mentality is frowned upon; no one who has it actually wants it when it comes down to it

BUT i HAVE GOOD NEWS FOR YOU ANON!! Please listen

It's okay to want to be someone else to get through the stress. It's even okay to turn off your brain and space out. These are natural human things. Just.. They don't have to be a disorder. There are some recommendations for coping that aren't hoping to have a CDD, but might suit you if you struggle with this:

Try to analyze your life and see what it is that's causing you so much stress that it makes you want to not exist in such a way. If you're in a bad environment that you can't change, there are still little things you can do to make it better for yourself

Are there things you CAN change? Maybe you can look into getting professional help or finding a new job, or even so much as regularly tidying up the space you're in

Look up coping mechinisms and grounding techniques

Take breaks and let yourself really unwind. Read a book or go outside and look at clouds or something until you feel calm. I promise this feels way better than dissociation

Fun Coping Tools That Feel Like What You Want Out Of Dee Eye Dee:

create a story in your head. If you come up with a world all your own to explore, it feels like having an inner world

Create original characters you can "be". By this I mean be imaginative like when we were all kids. >>Here's a really cool version of what adults can do if 'playing pretend' seems too childish for you<<

Have some staring out a window time. Just let your mind go for a bit

None of this has to be disordered to be helpful, and have nearly the same effect that you're hoping for.

If you are at a point where you want to not exist for suicidal reasons, I really urge you to get some help. There's always someone who wants you to be around, even if thats some time in the future.

[a-teacup-of-golden-cracks]

tw this is a trauma post but it's also a narrative I'm proud of. Suicide and self harm (mental and physical) will be mentioned.

To help those who aren't me understand, I think in part in references since it is both easier and more fun than creating original thoughts.

(1): reference to the videogame Omori

(2): reference to the movie The Dark Knight (take a guess as to why I like and relate to the joker)

(3): reference to a song I like (in order, HOPE by NF, Somewhere I Belong by Linkin Park, Love the Subhuman Self by AISHA, Arc System Works, and Jamison Boaz)

(4): a random saying I heard and enjoyed

“No one knows what it's like to be the bad man, to be the sad man behind blue eyes. No one knows what it's like to be hated, to be fated to telling only lies”

“Behind blue eyes” by The Who

Welcome to the nonsensical abyss of my mind, you've been here as long as you can remember (1). By reading this you're getting to see my thoughts without translation. Nothing here makes sense to anyone except me, I make references others rarely understand. But allow me to tell the story of how what you see now came to be. You wanna know how I got these scars (2)? “I spent years of my life holdin’ on to things I never should've kept, full of hatred, years of my life wishin I was someone different looking for some validation.” (3)

Middle school was a special sort of subtle hell for me, it stole things without me noticing. First it was my feeling of impervious safety when a kid laughed at a genuine heartfelt remark I made. Then it was my trust that friends would never betray me and always respect me when they wouldn't stop making jokes at my expense. Slowly, steadily I descended into paranoia and loneliness, and thus my contentedness with life was stolen. The ax forgets yet the tree never does(4).

A secret hidden issue that I only found out this year was that the ADHD meds I needed to take to function may have been causing the paranoia to start with. I still don't know how to feel about that, that all my issues and trauma might stem from something that's not even real.

Once I started high school it became more and more apparent that nobody liked me. At least not for very long. I never learned to function in middle school so I was still struggling with what everyone else already knew and mastered. Giving a compliment and sexual harassment, would you like to know the difference? I would've but nobody told me until after I'd been punished.

Intent vs impact, I never intended to hurt anyone yet my impact was that I did more often than not. So I cut off the things that hurt people, removed them from my mind. Who needs humor? Not me if I can't use it right. Who needs to give compliments? Not me if I can't say it right. Who needs to hug people to show affection because it's your primary love language and you want to show everyone how much you like and appreciate them? …… not me…. if I must…. to not hurt them…

You see where my inner pain starts now? Where the scars in my mind begin? There were two things I could never bear to cut and slice away, my name and my kindness. Most trans people change their names to align more with their gender but I decided no. I am done changing things for other people to accept me more, they never do. My name is Daniel and it's the sum of my entire being. If I am non-binary, or a woman, or some eldritch horror that everyone fears and that has lost every shred of humanity because of the things I've endured, then my name represents all of that. It's not my issue if people make a poor assumption about my name because of what they think it should be.

Maybe I don't even want to be human anymore if all that humans have shown me is hate. All throughout high school it was nothing but hate or dislike shown to me, barely any kindness outside of my family. So I isolated myself from everyone, to avoid those who hated and to not burden my family with my issues. I'd handle it by myself like I always had in the past and I'd be ok.

I was not ok.

I was rageful. I was tearing myself apart more and more and more internally, only my desire to never hurt anyone kept me from tearing the school down brick by brick with all the students inside it. But maybe… could it be I was the exception and the problem? Could it be I'm the one who deserves to hurt for the pain I've caused? Should I hurt myself? And so I tried once, a good solid punch to the forehead that didn't make me feel any better and never tried again.

The pain I deserved wasn't physical, it was mental and so I gave myself infinite mental pain. What an idiot I was for giving that compliment when clearly in retrospect it was sexual harassment, what a dumbass I was for saying that joke, looking back I deserve to lose my entire friend group over it. Maybe I'd be better off if I didn't exist anymore if I caused more harm than good and could never seem to learn or improve. The thoughts I had then… and sometimes still now… it's so hard to remember that looking into the past makes everything obvious in the worst ways possible…

But there was a light eventually, someone who told me all that was wrong. Someone I met online and will never see in person, someone I messed up horribly with and yet she still forgave me. Thank you infinitely June. You showed me that monsters can be good.

So I steeled my resolve and used my rage at myself to look inward and outward and found that I was being mistreated and misunderstood. I shouldn't kill myself to not exist or hurt people because I would improve and I could make others improve. So I stood at the very last meeting in front of the whole school and spoke the truth of my mind with as much respect and rage as I could muster. So much pain and anger and hate and sadness I'd endured and I showed all of it to the entire high school of 300 people.

I've never felt more satisfied in my life than when the headmaster of the school himself asked if there was anything he could do for me and I said no. I've never felt more proud when I met with him two days later and asked for a neurodivergent support group to be created for the middle and high school, and he said yes. Half a year later my brother told me that the headmaster stuck to his word and did more than I asked. I never felt more vindicated than when I was told by my only friend that he'd heard people making school shooter jokes after I stood up and told my story.

And so I started to heal. My humor, I did need that. How could I be happy if I could never make myself laugh? My desire to give joy and be kind, I needed that. How could I not fulfill the purpose in life I'd made for myself? My ability to hug and love and be happy with others, I needed that. Desperately. “I want to heal, I want to feel what I thought was never real, like there was somewhere I belong.”(3) I just needed to find better people who understood. I reconnected with my family and told my pain and tried in every possible way to show how sorry and sad I was for cutting them off. I couldn't stitch the old bits back onto me but maybe I could grow something new. Something I wanted and I loved, for me.

I can never fully heal, that's why you see the holes in my form, but I've incorporated them now, so that they help me as much as they hurt. I carry on and love my subhuman self, accept me for me and go back to being with humans (3). I give them the kindnesses I can but only after I do that for myself. This is the kindness and respect I give to me, the biggest change I made, because I deserve it as much as everyone else. Now close your eyes and you'll leave this dream (1).

“But my dreams, they aren't as empty as my conscience seems to be.”

Behind Blue Eyes by the Who

[gremoria411]

I suppose I should finish off that ramble about Gundam Code Fairy, shouldn’t I?

Gundam Code Fairy is a Videogame billed as the single-player campaign to Gundam Battlefield operation 2. I’ll start with talking about the gameplay, since I want to take my time with the story and characters:

The (story) Gameplay��s….. fine. It’s not really as deep as GB02’s and it genuinely annoys me you can’t select different mobile suits for a level after you’ve beaten it, but there aren’t any real problems with the moment-to-moment gameplay. The skill system’s irritating, because you’ll always have the wrong skills in when fighting bosses, necessitating restarting the level. You can command your allies to target specific enemies which is helpful, but it’s really only used to call out snipers or blunt hordes, as opposed to actual tactics.

The other gameplay modes are fairly hollow, Simulations are mostly nice - a few missions to kill so many grunts are functional. I’d like to call out tank-hunting as quite enjoyable, and Hardcore as an exercise in utter pointlessness. The Cost Matches are just awful. To save me droning on - the AI’s crap, you win by kills and kills alone, you can’t even exploit the enemy by calling in artillery or blowing up the base, as those features aren’t in the game. Finally, in order to get rewards, you have to win the match with a certain number of kills. Win the match without those kills? Waste of your time. Lose the match after soloing the entire enemy team twice, because your AI partners kept getting shot? Waste of time. It is an exterior in frustration, where you just have to keep trying and praying for a quirk of the AI to cause them to lose and you to win.

In a nutshell, it’s a (very, very) hollow reproduction of GB02’s gameplay, with the tactical options replaced by mind-numbing gameplay, a bigger-stick philosophy and putting kills over objectives.

The characters, then.

The plot of Code Fairy concerns the exploits of the Noisy Fairy Squadron, a specialised all-female commando unit under Kycillia Zabi. The three pilots being Alma Stirner (centre left, the squad leader, and the player character), Mia Brinkman (middle right, Tech nerd and support) and Helena Hegel (centre right, Sniper). They are commanded by Killy Garret (middle left, a Zeon Ace canonised from Gundam’s very early side materials, who fought in the Battle of Loum) with Barbara Hahari (left) and Irmela Grubler (right) as further support (honestly, these two are essentially nothing characters, here to give the rest someone to bounce off of). The whole story is framed as a “coming of age” for the main 3 pilots. I am going to spoil the majority of the plot, but in a nutshell, it’s not very good, since the entire cast are a bunch of stock characters.

The main trio first. Alma’s fine, I don’t have any real problems with her. She’s supposedly a newtype, but she can’t use Psycommu, and honestly it feels like the story could have worked just as well if she was an Oldtype. Her arc is that she’s young and inexperienced, and she gets beaten (non-lethally) in a fight with an enemy Gundam, leading to issues with her self-worth. Alma’s struggled with her confidence as a leader and how her encounter with the enemy Gundam affected her are good, it’s just I feel like actual lasting consequences would have lent it more impact. As it is, she fights a strong enemy, and ceases being commander for a few missions. She still goes out and fights though. No Amuro “you can’t make me pilot the Gundam” thing here. It comes across as incredibly hypocritical, since she’s worried about being killed by the Gundam or her friends dying under her command, but not about the (literal) hundreds of Federation Grunts she mows down along the way? Oh, they were the enemy, it’s alright then. Alma’s essentially the fresh rookie that grows into the leader of her squad.

Helena Helgel is the only one of the three I would consider to have an actual arc. It’s not brilliant, but it’s there. She starts out the war as a sniper, and slowly comes around to adopting a more generalist fighting style when she finds that sniping doesn’t work for everything. And then she gets the Efreet Jäger, the best sniping suit in the game. Also, her “growth” is punctuated by her throwing away her sniper rifle. Like, actually throwing it away. A still-working and incredibly rare Zaku Sniper rifle. After they’ve literally been

Grave Robbing

For the equipment. As I said, it’s not brilliant, but it’s an arc. I honestly struggle to remember what her personality was, but I don’t remember disliking her particularly.

Mia Brinkman…… I kinda hate. I’m not really sure why, because it’s obvious that she’s the one I’m supposed to like, being the healer. Part of it could be that getting the Dom Gnomides (which I despise) is what counts as her arc. Part of it could be the

Grave Robbing

Or it could be that I don’t really like a lot of Gundam’s “nerd” characters, because they’re always so one-note, existing to ramble on about technical specs or identify the new enemy mobile suit, and having little else in the way of personality.What I do I know is that early on in the game your squad comes under attack by some GM’s. Mia goes “make sure to move in zig-zags to avoid their beam weapons” and then proceeds to not do that and is shot in the chest pretty much immediately. I laughed out loud and rewound the scene to watch it again, simply because the timing was so perfect. But it’s played as such a serious scene that it makes it funnier.

Killy Garret’s honestly just weird, because the game acts like she’s going to make this big dramatic choice at one point and she just… doesn’t. She’s just “the commander that wants her troops to succeed”. But she never really does anything other than be Mission Control. She even goes out in defence of California base, disappears at the end of the war and then sends Alma a letter years later. I assume it’s supposed to be a hook for her own adventures, but we’re given no real personality to go off of.

Now that I’ve rambled about the protagonists, what about the antagonists?

Lilith Aiden is the Gundam Pilot and at first is a screaming Berzerker maniac, because her family was killed in the colony drop. That’s….. actually a really good angle for Gundam to take. And how does she develop? Well, after nearly killing Alma, Barry Abbot (Lillith’s Mentor) points to the Black Dog Squadron, the villains of the piece and is all “don’t lose yourself to war, like those guys. Those guys are Wack.” So she doesn’t. Huh. Seems like a bit of wasted potential there.

And how about that Black Dog Squadron? It’s essentially an entire squadron of the Earth Federation forces dedicated to warcrimes. Like, actively. An entire division of giggling psychopaths with top-level mobile suits. ……..I’m really not sure how that would be in any way effective? Their leader, Renato Germi (who I would describe as Yazan Gable without the complexity) literally wastes valuable resources because he’s too kill-happy to think in the long term. It doesn’t make sense to me that anyone would sanction this squad unless they had an ulterior motive, and that seems to have been the idea at one point (Pale Rider Units, GM Spartan’s, Renato’s custom unit) but it just never comes up. There’s no actual depth to them as a force, so Gundam’s typical grey morality is completely upended. It makes the central conflict of the game feel incredibly dull.

Also, explicitly no named characters die. Like, call me crazy, but if I was going to make something about the horrors of war, something that involves a lot of death and killing, I would probably feature some of that death and killing. Maybe have a named character die at some point. Because throughout the story, Killy Garrett is depicted (privately) making a big deal about how horrible war is, and she doesn’t want the girls to be affected by it - but it never happens. And as the game goes on, it increasingly seems like she’s not worried about the death and tragedy inherent in war, but of being on the losing side. Which….. isn’t what Gundam’s about? Like, it’s difficult for the game to disguise the fact that it’s being written with the knowledge of Zeon’s defeat and of Operation Rubicon (the events of 0080). So much of what Killy says just foreshadows events to come in U.C. that it gets grating. Because instead of establishing her as someone who has a good read of the situation, it makes her sound like a character who read ahead in the script ahead of time and know how it all ends.

Come to think of it, Gundam’s whole “war is bad” aspect is kind of completely absent from Code Fairy. Yeah, Lillith has a good amount of rage towards Zeon, but that’s never actually resolved, she just…. Stops having it? Yeah, the Black Dog Squadron are horrible warmongers, but it’s so blatant that you feel that they’d just be going around making coats out of puppies in peacetime. Also the original series nailed this, so it irritates me that I have to point it out: Humanise the grunts. If I see a character, in gameplay, custscene whatever, as “Zeon Soldier F”. Then I know that he’s not gonna make it out of the scene. I don’t view him as a human, I view him as a plot device and it makes it meaningless when he dies. It’s just irritating, because it feels like the game expects us to understand these character, but it doesn’t actually bother to humanise any of them, so they’re all just cardboard cut-outs.

In fact, hopping back up to my earlier point about no named characters dying, while there are multiple bosses in this game, I’d like to talk about the second to last one, Renato Germi and the Black Dog Squadron, because it underlines the problem I have with the Black Dog Squadron as an entity. Noisy Fairy Squadron has a confrontation with the Black Dogs in the mountains, where they fight off waves of troops before being attacked by Renato Germi and the two Rider Units. It’s a pretty good boss fight, since it’s a three-on-three, with each unit having different weapons. Eventually a cutscene occurs of Renato getting Noisy Fairy on the ropes. So he has them, here, dead-to-rights, then turns to the rider pilot and says “hey, grab them and I’ll shoot you in the back, just to be sure we get them”. When they reply with the reasonable response of “no, just shoot them you idiot” he attacks them anyway, this enrages the pilot of the Black Rider, who proceeds to tackle him off a cliff. Cue explosion. Noisy Fairy wins, and retreat to California base for the final level. The final level is essentially Alma by herself holding off waves of enemies, with occasional fire support from your squad mates. It ends with a final confrontation with Lillith, and then ceasefire. And after that ceasefire, who should walk up but Renato Germi, who then attempts to kill Alma. So what exactly was the point of that entire boss fight earlier? I’m not going to sit here and say that every boss fight should end in a death, but there’s no point to Renato staying alive afterward.

Ian Greydon’s great thought. He’s another MSV pilot, known for piloting the Zaku Cannon, who shows up here. Yeah, he’s really just a mentor figure and he doesn’t do all that much. But I’ll admit I got a kick out of seeing him leading a team of Zaku Cannons. They only really use him sparingly, so he doesn’t outstay his welcome.

Honestly, the reason I like Gundam as a franchise is that all the elements blend together so well. You have giant robots, you have sci-fi, you have interesting villains and you have anti-war themes (there’s other stuff besides, but you get the picture). It all works because it all blends together. If you take one part of that out, then, yeah it still works, but it’s not nearly as appealing to me as the full thing, if that makes sense. Gundam Code Fairy is missing significant elements, and it doesn’t really bring anything to the table to replace them.

So, Gundam Battle Operation Code Fairy then. The story and gameplay’s fine, but the characters are just so very boring and the non-story content really isn’t worth it. I guess buy it if you really, really want to unlock the new MS (except the GM Spartans, Dom Gnomides and Rider Units) in GB02, but I can’t really recommend beyond that.

[photogirl894]

Hello genius! I love your writing!

Could you maybe do fluff/relationship #4 with Tech, please?

"Genius"?? 😲🤭 Oh my gosh, you are far too kind!! I am so not worthy of such high praise! Thank you, @jonesandjoanna !! 💜

There could not be a more perfect prompt for Tech! 😆 I love it!! (The wording is slightly rearranged, but the point still gets across.)

"Isn't it Obvious?"

4. “Because I fell for you, isn’t it obvious?” 

Pairing: Tech x fem reader

***

Whenever things needed repaired on the Marauder, Tech usually had Echo or Omega help him out, but recently he started soliciting your help, as well, which you didn't mind at all. Every so often, you wondered if Tech perhaps had a crush on you, but he was hard to read. More often than not, his behavior towards you didn't always seem that different from how he behaved around the rest of the squad. Maybe he was just more comfortable around you. You were one of the only ones who let him go off on his rambles without giving him a hard time. Though, if he did have a crush on you, you knew you wouldn't mind it. Sometimes, the thought of the two of you being together romantically made your heart skip a beat. He was kind and a complete gentleman. However, you figured that romance was probably the last thing on Tech's mind, so you were fine with just keeping things the way they were. As long as you still got to have time with him, that was all that mattered.

One day, you were helping Tech get the central systems of the ship back up and running. He was on his back underneath the control console in the front of the ship and you were kneeling between the two pilots seats.

"Hand me the spanner," he requested.

After giving him what he asked for, you commented to him, "You know, you have to repair things on this ship a lot. Maybe you guys should look at getting a new one."

"That would not be the most prudent course of action," he replied as he kept working. "As long as things in the ship can be fixed and still prove functional, then there's no need to replace the whole ship. If anything, we would just continue replacing parts that cease working. The ship itself is perfectly fine."

You grinned and shook your head. "Whatever you say, Tech."

"Do you doubt my assessment, (Y/N)?" he inquired.

"No, you make a good point," you answered.

Tech came out from under the console and moved up to one knee in front of you as he put his tool back into the toolbox. "This is why I like when you work with me," he said, rearranging things in the box without looking at you. "You support my various analyses of different things."

You snickered. "That's the reason you have me help you? Because I agree with you all the time?"

"Not exactly. There are other reasons, as well."

"Like what?"

He turned to look at you, a puzzled expression on his face. "Isn't it obvious? It's because I fell for you."

It suddenly felt like you were hit over the head with a brick and you thought your jaw was going to hit the floor. Did Tech really just say that?

"Y--you...you what?" you stammered out in disbelief. "You actually fell for me?"

"Indeed," was his simple reply.

"Since when?" you questioned in disbelief.

He appeared a little taken aback, seeming genuinely surprised that you didn't know. "I can't place an exact moment for sure, but I do know it's been some time," he explained. "Your outgoing personality and charming wit drew me to you and I found great enjoyment in the time I spent with you. I wanted that to continue, but I didn't wish to put any sort of pressure on you for anything, so I presumed that enlisting your help with repairs and such would prove to be an ideal solution to that predicament. However, I understand if you do not return the sentiments and--"

"Tech, would you just shut up?" you finally interrupted him before reaching out to grasp his face with your hands, pulling him forward and placing a sweet, lingering kiss on his lips, the two of you feeling fireworks explode within you.

Then you pulled back, gave him a playful smirk and said to him, "Isn't it obvious? I fell for you, too."

He grinned at you, his cheeks turning uncharacteristically pink as he admitted, "For once...I'm pleased that what I thought was obvious turned out to be wrong."

You smiled brightly and shook your head. Tech was an odd one sometimes...but he was your odd one and you wouldn't have changed that about him for the whole galaxy.

20 Fluff/Relationship prompts

More Tech fics

Bad Batch Writing Requests

[house-of-laminations]

I am begging you to stop the crypto headcanons I cant lose them to the crypto bros please

Whats that? More crypto headcanons? Well if you insist

The Cursed Obey Me Crypto Headcanons

I know I said before that Mammon isn't a crypto bro but it's a little more complex than that. He was one of the really early adopters, but when he realized that there was no actual equity/meaningful wealth to be gained, he dropped it as a single-source income.

However. The Avatar of Greed is very good at understanding economic systems that encourage and function on clear divides in wealth and access. Mammon has the best understanding of cryptocurrencies as, well, currency, but not necessarily the technology behind it.

That's where NFTs come in. He created a series of TSL NFTs (NFTSLs) but kept the single Henry one to himself, never selling it to artificially inflate the value of the series as a whole. Never let it be said that Mammon isn't down for a good scam.

Now Levi isn't just into cryptocurrencies for the NFTs (though that's certainly a big part). A large part of why people flock to cryptocurrency is because of a level of economic anxiety, and in some cases, envy. After all, why can't you be rich too? How dare these systems be used against you - why can't you be the one on top?

You can bet Levi has an addictive love-hate relationship with NFTs. He has to own - they're unique! Nothing sets him off more knowing that someone out there has the single Henry NFTSL ever made. He's also one of those 'You hate it because you dont get it' types. Despite the fact that Levi himself doesn't really get it.

Satan understands the technology behind blockchain, crypto, and NFTs better than Levi, and possibly even Mammon. He's not an adopter himself but he's surrounded by acquaintances who are and deliberately baits them into debates about the downfalls of crypto.

Asmo doesn't really care about crypto either - in fact he can't seem to grasp why you would want to limit ownership of his beautiful images to one person. That being said, he does work with Mammon occasionally to come up with new scams. It was his suggestion to make a series based on images of Lucifer

Neither Beel or Belphie at any point were into crypto. Beel didn't care to learn to understand it and Belphie just didn't care period.

A demon once approached Diavolo about the possibility of accepting DevilCoin alongside grimm in Devildom businesses. When asking Barbatos-who-can-see-the-future his advice, the butler's response was, verbatim: "Do not fucking do this." And so Diavolo never entertains the idea again. Barbatos has never scared him more.

Simeon does not and cannot understand blockchain. or cryptocurrencies. An enthusiastic crypto-demon tried to explain it to him once but then Diavolo outlawed any subsequent attempts once it became clear that that conversation drove the demon literally insane. Its not clear if Simeon is faking to mess with people or if he's genuinely that confused by it

I don't know anything about Mephistopheles except that he has the vibe of a crypto bro. idk how or why. But I say he is and you can't change my mind.

Solomon understands but he is so uninterested by the concept as a whole that nothing you could say to him would excite him enough to invest.

Lucifer only put a stop to all this crypto nonsense when it inconvenienced him personally. This happened because Asmo and Mammon were trying to take photos of his fangs during breakfast one day to make a new series called NFTeefies.

[newswcanonprompts]

Slave Chips + Anakin Angst time

(who tf had this convo? whoever it was, all your body parts are going on the wall. kneecaps = TAKEN for making me fuckin cry)

The conversation started w/ a Anakin has chronic pain because of a very Loud force presence + all the fun stuff that comes from a childhood in slavery and formative years spent as a general in a war, and then talking about high vs low pain perception

And then Yui hops in with this:

what if Slave masters have technology in the slave chips where they can control their slaves pain perception--Low perception for when they work and high for when they get punished.

The jedi didn't know about it, Qui-gon forgot to mention the chip to the Council

and Watto " forgot " to turn it the high pain perception off as a way of getting back at the Jedi for “stealing” his investment

Oh my God what if anakin thinks they know and choose not to turn it off

WHAT IF HE THINKS THAT THEY'RE PUNISHING HIM FOR QUI-GON BEING QUI GON AND FOR THEM BEING FORCED TO TAKE HIM IN SO OLD

AND THAT FEEDS HIS BITTERNESS OF THEM

AND ALSO STOMPS HIS SELF ESTEEM

Because the pain NEVER stops.

So Anakin never says anything

It makes him think that he definitely cannot tell them about any injuries he has unless they make him unfit to work

And Obi-Wan constantly lectures him too and like he's already being punished he doesn't need to be verbally beaten down too

(note that it’s from Anakin perspective, the unreliable narrator of the year--Obi-wan actually has no idea about the chip)

And when he lashes out because it just HURTS and he can't contain it anymore, he’s berated AGAIN

Also, if the pain perception is controlled, that means the slave chip is still there, which makes the thought process he has about being punished for being taken so old even worse

And then, what if Kix one day finds a chip in Anakin's nervous system, he removes it, and Anakin begins crying with relief

And Kix goes "Sir Why WAS THIS TORTURE DEVICE IN YOU?"

He gets injured enough for emergency surgery and Kix finds the chip that way, meanwhile, Anakin can't have anesthesia for medical reasons, so he's dealing with the surgery awake and feels the moment the chip is detached.

WHAT IF ANAKIN IS FAKE NONCHALANT ABOUT IT BECAUSE ANGST

"Ah? Oh they didn't tell you? I thought it'd be in the brief. That's my slave chip. It's supposed to be there. It means they own me." And kix...kix is aghast.

the Jedi are all crying in a corner at the fact they let a CHILD be tortured for YEARS

Because Anakin admitted to a slave chip. Of being owned. And he calls obi-wan Master

Obi-Wan is absolutely devastated because he tortured the child who he was responsible for and he never wanted to do that and oh force, he's a monster (it’s obi wan so like. infinite sadness to the max)

The clones basically become Anakin's mother hens

WHAT IF THIS IS HOW THEY FIND THE CLONE CHIPS TOO

BC KIX GOES "IF THEIR JETII HAS A CHIP...ONE OF THEIR OWN... WHAT ABOUT US CLONES?"

Also the fact so if this is during the Clone Wars: they've sent Anakin in as a soldier without him even knowing he had a right to not fight

The Council decides immediately to take Anakin off the front and get to seeing a mind healer, before collectively drinking an entire bar under the table

Oh God did anyone ever explain to anakin. In depth. That just because they are called "Master" does not mean they own him?

AS A SLAVE, HE WAS ALLOWED HIS THOUGHTS AND EMOTIONS. HIS MASTERS BEFORE DID NOT OWN HIS MIND. BUT THAT'S NOT THE CASE WITH THE JEDI, IN HIS PERSPECTIVE

(again, Anakin’s perspective, the Jedi didn’t actually know. This somehow becomes an eventual fix it lol.)

Like LOGICALLY Anakin knows that Master to them means teacher but he thinks it doesn't apply to him because they won him and he is still a slave

What if that's the reason he kept his marriage to Padme a secret, not because he was afraid of being kicked out of the Order, but because he would be punished for loving a free person?

YEAH BC SLAVES DON'T GET MARRIED AND PADME WAS NOT ONLY A FREEBORN, BUT SHE IS ALSO, IN HIS EYES, SO FAR ABOVE HIS STATION ITS NOT EVEN FUNNY

Oh, with the removal of the chip and the pain, Anakin gets high from the huge levels of pain-relieving chemicals his body has been producing for years to compensate.

Anakin living in constant fear of punishments, and that's why he always seems so high strung and on a hair trigger

Like!! This whole thing is a web of miscommunication and assumptions

Anakin assumes that the Jedi and whatever know about the chip and chose to keep it in.

He assumes he is still a slave if not in name, then in status

He assumes the council is constantly punishing him for Qui-Gon essentially forcing them to take him in and for his failure to adhere to their code.

He assumes Obi-Wan feels the same, or perhaps he cannot risk going against the council bc they're his elders and he still loves Obi-Wan, bc he sees that Obi-Wan does care for him

(but not enough to free you, a voice whispers in his head that grows louder every day)

Him talking about things with Palpy, thinking the man would be nice enough to free him...

the entire temple is just full of people drinking and crying over Anakin and Anakin himself is currently the most functional person around, trying to convince everyone it wasn't that bad

He doesn't realize that that makes it so much worse. He's all "Really, compared to my other masters. And to masters I could have gone to... you all were kind. I was lucky."

And they despair.

Because how could they still be given that earnest smile, of beautiful blue eyes, shining still with trust and love, when they tormented him, albeit unknowingly, for over a decade?

Anakin is just very relieved to be pain free, and that they didn't know so it wasn't on purpose.

Anakin: You all treated me so well! I had food and water every day, shelter and good quality clothing. You never beat me and my punishments, while sometimes painful, were done with no tricks without cruelty.

“You’re the best masters I’ve had.”

Mace, upon being told this by a very earnest and 100% honest Anakin, knowing full well how he made life difficult for Anakin and didn't like him much, cleared a whole bar of alcohol on his own

While the Jedi are crying, the 501st is willing to go on a murder spree. The Hutts are DEAD.

Everyone say bye bye Gardulla and Jabba

Anakin is just happy and relieved.

Yes there will be talking. He will have to establish boundaries, the order will need to regain its footing.

But Anakin is free, and he has so much love to give.

And now he knows that they never meant for him to suffer.

And maybe he's still high on being free of pain, but now he knows they genuinely cared for him and none of their kindness was because they wanted him to perform well. They were genuine.

Obi-Wan at one point just breaking down and holding Anakin to his chest and sobbing because how did he fail him so badly

meanwhile Anakin's just like "Master, it's fine, I'm fine. Hey crying wastes water, if you're going to cry over something it's gotta be something more major than this. I mean everything's fine, everything's better than fine now, I'm free."

Anakin not quite processing why everything he says makes Obi-Wan cry harder.

Quinlan must be very glad that he never tried to touch Anakin directly.

Anakin's self-flagellation issues are through the ROOF

[sepublic]

Meta Marcy Wu

           Marcy really does have that energy of like. Someone who doesn’t have a whole lot of ‘opinions’ on bigger matters (such as the conflict between Toads and Newts, Sasha and Anne, Maddie and her sisters, etc.) so she just sort of. Awkwardly waits and sits off to the side, kind of biding her moment for when it’s finally over. Letting others take charge so long as she gets her own little space to function in. She’s not against or for anyone in particular, she just needs people to decide for themselves who she should follow, Marcy prefers to be a follower and ONLY that- Her debut has her asserting her own control for herself, but she doesn’t seem to care much else about others, I’m afraid.

           Contrast that with Anne, who needs her own control- BUT she also has the Heart, so she cares about others, she’s proactive and has agency despite initially being told to be reactive and not stand up for herself. Even if she can’t stand up for herself, she will stand up for others… And I think she was lowkey influenced by Sasha’s obsessive desire to protect the girls, and that played into Anne being a little bit toxic, but ultimately learning and having that inner fire to take a stance on things based on moral reasons, whereas Sasha seems more concerned for power than the actual social plight of the Toads- So even if Anne isn’t with the rebellion, it’s ultimately something she WOULD fully dedicate herself towards, like when we saw her stand up for the Frogs against Bog and the other Toads.

           And like, I have to wonder if Marcy’s more hands-off, simple follower approach is lowkey what contributed to Sasha’s belief in controlling others, because it validated that- But at the same time, we talk about how Sasha might care more for Anne than Marcy, and we see how Sasha is frustrated by Toadie, who is but an echo chamber for her. So maybe while Marcy is convenient to her, she’s just a bit too passive and thus not as ‘fun’ as a friend as Anne, who is also a concern because she has genuine motive to question Sasha not just on the basis of their friendship, but people OUTSIDE of it, which Marcy doesn’t.

           Anne being fiercely loyal and protective and sticking up for others, it also could’ve fed back into Sasha’s own tendencies as well. And of course these more proactive, in-your-face girls, always on the frontlines, are going to clash, while Marcy the forgotten follower, the wall-flower, the one in the background focused on more ‘nerdy’ things that are less glamorous, like logistics and whatnot… SHE’s the lynchpin that actually tips the scales- Because she’s the third girl who ‘sides’ with Anne between the initial conflict from Season 1. She’s the one with Andrias, flipping things up when Anne and Sasha are going to fight, contributing to that prophesized endgame.

           Marcy is the one, ironically, with the power –albeit as an extension of Andrias really- and so she’s the antagonist who’s clashing with Sasha, who is also power-hungry, but really beginning to learn as well. Marcy is caught up in her own little fantasy land and world, both literally and figuratively, happily enjoying and watching as a witness and bystander, almost detached in a sense to really participate and appreciate it as a very real thing… And being separate and an ‘audience’ member, Marcy is of course forgotten by Sasha and Anne, who play the part of characters; Fitting, because in that one flashback, they were Captain Hook and Peter Pan, while Marcy worked back-stage, literally pulling the strings (well, rope) for Anne!

           It’s Marcy who’s obsessed and fascinated with the meta of fandom and fiction, so of course she’s the one who steps back and observes it like media, takes the time to comment on it as if it were all tropes, watching and enjoying while for Sasha and Anne they participate directly without that kind of detached meta awareness, the kind someone like Andrias would have, because for THEM it’s real, there are stakes, power for Sasha and people for Anne! And Marcy is the backstage audience, fourth-wall crewmember, unnoticed by all who forget and ignore her, and she’s used to it. Maybe Marcy even enjoys and prefers it that way, and/or learned to- And it’s too late to pay attention, to see themselves as characters in that wider play and story and plot, unlike Andrias who notices and takes advantage… And may have been writing since who knows HOW early?

           If I could get into meta, Marcy playing that quiet, unnoticed support role, doing whatever’s convenient- It reminds me of how the visual basis for your typical Ninja in black garb… It came from plays where performers in black garb would maneuver props, and the audience was supposed to intentionally ignore them, see them as separate from the actual story; But every now and then, one play might have a ‘twist’ where that background actor actually IS a character, and assassinates someone to reveal themselves as the hidden Ninja!

          So maybe Marcy is like that… The background crewmember, not calling attention to herself in the acting role- In plain sight but we figure we’re meant to ignore, and so we’re utterly blindsided when she DOES strike! It’s Marcy who appreciates the little technical know-how and details, valuing the role that Frogs and agriculture play, considering Newtopian infrastructure, working back-stage in a Peter Pan play… Appreciating the writing conventions and tropes of her favorite games and fantasies, and so that in a way enables her to ‘game’ the system in a sense, play into it with her own hands, or even set up that game and story in the first place, because she knows how to make one!

          She is the drummer while Anne and Sasha play guitar and sing, not as glamorous or recognized amongst a crowd, but just as vital as the rest… She’s a very META kind of person, befitting her choice of METAmorphosis as part of her drummer costume! You don’t pay mind to a caterpillar, but then little do you know, it becomes an even more unnoticeable cocoon… Only to sprout into a brilliant butterfly! But while the BLUE butterfly is associated with Anne and her connections back home through Pearl Paddock, who is representative of familial bond, remembering who you are… Marcy is disconnected, she’s a GREEN butterfly, green like the lilypads of Amphibia, and she wants to stay there!

          And the best part, I think? I don’t think Marcy herself is even fully aware of what she’s doing… I doubt she sees herself as some clever manipulator. She’s just doing what she can, having her fun plans and machinations like in New Wartwood, but she’s not ACTUALLY approaching this as some devious mastermind- She’s literally just a kid! She gets caught up in her own things, because she is an autistic mood, and I get that! I resonate with that! And so it’s so easy for Marcy to be blindsided by HERSELF, by her own flaws and borderline antagonistic role in the story, to realize what she’s doing is kind of messed up and trivializing- Because we know that she WANTS to care, but it’s so easy and convenient for her to forget and play into the fantasy… Especially with someone like Sasha, and especially Andrias, to enable her, to provide that safety and support net that MARCY doesn’t complain about or take for granted, unlike that ‘ungrateful’ Anne, as Sasha might’ve one said!

           And if Marcy isn’t really self-aware of her own issues or even the full messed-up scope of her actions, to take a look back and critically examine herself the way she might a character or even her own friends; Then that can also make her a victim to her own antics, just as Sasha kept burying herself into a deeper hole. And it’s hard to do the right thing, if you don’t even realize you’re messing up in the first place- Recognizing your fault is kind of one of THE foundations of actual reform, growth, and redemption. I think Marcy needs guidance, and she needs to show more initiative and take a stance not just for herself, but regarding others as well… And that can lead to her choosing between Anne and Andrias.

           Andrias, whose name is like Anne’s but more fantastical, who is blue like Anne’s motif… And who looks after her like a good friend, makes things easier and promises they will be! And he’s invested into the fantasy, he doesn’t want to go home and complicate things, get into fights with Sasha, because it’s the person in charge who decides how it is, right? Which is why True Colors continues to concern me… Amidst, you know, the many OTHER issues as well.

[entertainment]

Entertainment Spotlight: Genneya Walton, #blackAF

Genneya Walton came to acting through a passion for dance and performance. Once on screen, she starred as Bryden Bandweth on Project Mc², as well as taking on roles in The Resident, 911, Criminal Minds, School of Rock, and Extent. Up next, Genneya will be playing the role of Chloe Barris, daughter to Rashida Jones and Kenya Barris, in his new mockumentary #blackAF. Loosely inspired by Barris’ irreverent and honest approach to parenting, relationships, race, and culture, #blackAF uncovers the messy and often hilarious world of the fictionalized Barris family. We had the opportunity to chat to Genneya about her character on the show, experiences on set, and what it means to be a young woman of color in the world of film and television. Check it out:

You wake up tomorrow as the character you play. What do you do first? 

If I were to wake up as Chloe, I would freak out first but I think that’s a given. Secondly, I’d go through her closet and try everything on because her style is incredible and I can only imagine what her full wardrobe looks like. 

In #blackAF, you have a lot of siblings. Do you have a large family IRL? If so, were there any similarities to your rapport with your on-set family? If no, did the experience make you glad or sad you don’t? 

In real life I only have one older sister -- far less than the 5 siblings I have on the show! My parents' style of raising kids is not at all the same as Kenya and Joya’s, so I can't say there are really any similarities between my real and tv family in that aspect. Although with both of them I am lucky to be able to share my honest thoughts and feelings with them even if it’s hard at times. Even though growing up I did want a baby brother, I wouldn’t want to change anything about how my family functions now, but it was definitely an experience to almost live another life in a household that’s run so differently. 

Describe the premise of #blackAF to a five-year-old? 

#blackAF is about a teenager that is filming her family’s everyday life to send in to her favorite college in hopes of getting in. With parents like ours and six kids, things can get crazy at our house. We act a little more “out there” than a typical family so I don’t think it would be appropriate for a five year old, but you can tell your parents to watch it ;) 

What’s the first thing that you remember being a fan of? 

The first thing I remember being a fan of is Barbie. It was one of my favorite toys growing up and the movies are actually what inspired me to perform. Second, I think it would be Usher’s Confessions album. I had no business singing his songs as a child, but those songs are certainly timeless! 

Can you tell us about a funny experience you had on the set of #blackAF? 

When you’re working with Kenya and Rashida something funny is bound to happen everyday. We had a moment of downtime on set and Kenya was showing off some dance moves and Rashida hopped in and it turned into an impromptu dance battle. All I’m gonna say is they both can do a mean robot. Certainly a sight to see and I’m happy to say I’ve witnessed it in my lifetime. 

You began your career dancing before you moved on to acting. Has dancing taught you any valuable lessons for your acting career? 

Dancing has certainly shaped who I am today and I’ve been able to apply those lessons to everyday life. I used to be the most sensitive person on the planet, and although I still have my moments, the tough love from teachers gave me a thicker skin that is necessary to have in this industry. Particularly from being a competitive dancer I learned the value of teamwork and trust. A scene is a collaboration, not a solo, and when you have a scene partner you have to put your full trust in that person in order to let go and be vulnerable. Also, in competition you can’t win them all, and that’s certainly the case with this industry, and I learned from a young age to come to terms with things not always going as planned and to push on and work harder. The long rehearsal hours and high expectations to perform well every time prepared me for work days on set that could sometimes be 14+ hours. All of the hard work that goes into finally performing a 2 minute dance piece is similar to the endless preparation before a new project only for the final cut to be x amount of minutes long and that’s all people get to see. After all it’s about the journey not the destination right? Being a dancer instilled a lot of important lessons within me and I owe my current position to dance aka my first love. 

Without spoiling anything, did you have a favorite scene in the show that was fun to shoot? 

While on vacation things got a little heated between Chloe and Drea and we really had the opportunity to take it there. Both Iman and I have sisters and were able to relate to our characters in that moment. We were both completely understanding of the situation and each other's emotions that it almost made it feel as though we were truly sharing that moment together as sisters. It was a special moment for myself and it definitely brought us closer. It was a very fun challenge and I’m so happy to have been able to share that with her and portray the ups and downs that siblings have. 

How do you embody the mission of #BlackExcellence365 in your everyday work? 

I think that black excellence is our drive and ability to go for, and accomplish the great things we do despite the boundaries that have been set in front of us. We have so much power within ourselves and such a great ability to impact lives. As a kid, I only had a handful of young women of color to look up to and I am grateful that they have paved the way for young actors like myself. I am now in the position to possibly be that for today’s young girls, and it is truly a dream and a huge responsibility that I am thrilled to take on. I hope to take part in roles that can positively impact and inspire young girls to be the best versions of themselves that they can be. Representation on screen is so important and the media has the ability to shape young minds. So far I've had the honor to play a past role of a teenage genius who is a master at coding and is not afraid to be herself or speak her mind. I now get to play a young adult who attends a great college and is setting up her future. Those characters within themselves are what I believe to be some great representations of black excellence and if they positively affect at least one person I am proud of that. I’d like it to be known that it took almost two years of being unemployed before I landed my current role. At times it was tough and I honestly had a fleeting moment where I considered giving up, but I kept pushing and would have never gotten to experience being Chloe if I didn’t hold faith in myself! As my career goes on, I intend on using my platform to be vocal about things that matter most to me and inspire and pave the way for those after me. This is all bigger than myself and each accomplishment and even failure on the way to success that we share is an embodiment of #blackexcellence. 

Do you have any advice for young women of color who are looking to get into the acting business? 

When wanting to accomplish anything in life it requires hard work, resilience, and genuine belief in yourself. You will get more no’s than yes’s, but you cannot let that discourage you. When you know you have something special to share with the world, you have to keep pushing on. I’d highly recommend surrounding yourself with people that are like minded so you can uplift and push each other towards your individual goals. An African Proverb that I think describes this well is, “If you want to go fast, go alone. If you want to go far, go together.” So finding a strong support system whether that be within your family or your friends, I personally find to be helpful during the journey. When things get tough it is easy to get lost or caught up in this all, but remember to stay grounded and true to yourself. There is no one else like you, and that alone holds so much power! 

Thanks for taking the time Genneya! #blackAF is now streaming on Netflix.

[a-sirens-melody]

Darkwing Duck’s Greatest Enemy: Type 1 Diabetes (And Definitely Not Self Loathing)

Quick author's note: Launchpad switches between he/they throughout the fic, just so no one gets confused! If you have any questions abt diabetes, feel free to ask me. With that said, enjoy!

***

So far, tonight has gone really well.

It's date night, and this time they're spending it eating takeout from Hamburger Hippo and watching Darkwing Duck at Launchpad's place. Wrappers lay on the floor, ignored in favor of watching Darkwing kick Megavolt’s ass on screen.

Drake is currently leaning into Launchpad's side on the couch, his partner’s arm wrapped around his waist. It all feels so cozy and domestic that he never wants it to end.

And then, because Drake must have seriously pissed off some powerful being in a past life, it happens.

Megavolt’s face becomes blurry, and it's a little harder to focus on the TV. A quick look around the room tells him that, actually, it's hard to focus on anything right now. He knows what this means; he's gotten better at picking up on the signs after twenty-eight years of living with a half-functioning pancreas.

His blood sugar’s starting to drop.

He tries to close his eyes and listen instead, but the shake of his hands quickly corrects him. He is dropping and he needs to find something to eat. Even though he just ate, like, an hour ago.

Dammit.

“Drake?”

He opens his eyes and notices that the episode is paused. He hadn't even realized, he was so caught up in his symptoms. The second thing he notices is Launchpad looking right at him.

He guesses that they felt his shaking because there's concern in their eyes now. A brief wave of guilt sweeps over him and he almost misses their question. “Is your blood sugar low?”

He finds it's a little hard to form words right now (and that scares him, it always does), so he nods his head slightly and hums.

“I'm gonna go get you a juice box.”

The arm wrapped around him vanishes as LP gets up. He helps him lay down on the couch, head pillowed on the armrest. He's still cold without his boyfriend, though, so Drake can't help the small whine that escapes him. God, he sounds pathetic.

Launchpad's eyes soften and they lean down to kiss his forehead. “I'll be right back, okay?”

A little embarrassed, Drake nods and watches the other duck head to his fridge. He closes his eyes again and almost sighs in relief as he's met with darkness. You can't lose your focus if there's nothing to focus on in the first place.

Did that even make sense? Whatever. His brain’s not working properly right now.

The sounds of his partner rummaging through the shelves fill the air. Drake is reminded of earlier when things felt so domestic between them. It's only been a couple of months since they started dating, but Launchpad already feels like the home he never had.

Drake doesn't know how he got so lucky; sometimes it all feels like a dream.

Launchpad leaving is his worst nightmare. He knows he's being a little dramatic, but his anxiety gets the better of him sometimes. He's too much, too expensive, too-

“Found it!” Footsteps pull Drake out of his thoughts and he cracks his eyes open. Launchpad already tore off the wrapping on the plastic straw and stuck it in the box. He holds it out now and places it near Drake's beak. “Drink this, okay?”

He moves the straw into his mouth with a hum and starts sucking the juice down, only stunned for a second at the chill. Fruit punch, his mind distantly informs him. It's his favorite flavor, but he's too focused on getting it into his system to really appreciate it right now.

When the juice box is thoroughly drained, he gives his boyfriend a small smile. He feels like he can talk without sounding like he's drunk now, so he says, “thanks, LP.”

“Anytime,” is the warm reply he receives. If Drake was of sound mind, he would kiss Launchpad breathless and maybe, maybe, utter those three little words that have grown harder to ignore as of late.

I love you.

The words are barely on the tip of his tongue even now. Yikes, his filter's pretty weak already. He tries to stuff the words down by chewing on the straw. Struggling with one of the disadvantages of diabetes is not his ideal confession scenario. Besides, it's way too soon to say that. Right? Right.

“Didn't think you kept juice boxes in your fridge,” he says instead. Not only is he trying to distract himself from his low brain feelings, he's genuinely curious. He doesn't recall seeing any juice boxes in LP’s fridge the last time he was here, and their favorite flavor is apple.

“Nah. Not for myself, at least.” They smile fondly at him. “I remembered that it's your favorite flavor, though, and I wanted to have something for whenever you went low over here.”

Wait.

Launchpad bought those for him? Specifically for him? And remembered his favorite flavor from a conversation they had three months ago when they asked Drake what he usually ate when his blood sugar went low?

That's...

“That's really sweet of you, LP. Thanks.” He says, because he's not really sure what to say. It's such a small act of kindness, something he's not used to, and he doesn't know how to deal with the sudden warmth in his chest.

He's too low for this. Feeling more intense emotions is a very frequent symptom of his when he's low, that's what this is. Yeah. Definitely.

His boyfriend's smile turns shy. “You don't have to thank me. Whatever helps you the most. Speaking of which, do you want me to bring your kit over here? I mean, obviously you feel low, but. Better to have an exact number, right?” Launchpad rambles, hand reaching to brush through the hair at the back of his neck.

That's a good point, actually. He has to be in the 40’s if he's feeling this bad. “Yes, please.”

Launchpad reaches to the side of his couch where Drake's bag is. Inside is his blood sugar kit (complete with a pricker, replaceable barrels, meter, test strips, insulin, and syringes), various small snacks in case he goes low when he's out, and a glucagon. He really hopes that last item is not going to be needed tonight.

He probably shouldn't have dropped the bag there, but he wanted to start their date. Can you really blame him?

The kit is found and placed onto the couch. Drake starts to reach for it, but suddenly there's a hand covering his.

“Can I check you, please?” He looks up and finds Launchpad staring at him. “I don't- if you don't want me to touch your stuff, I get it, but. You feel bad. So will you let me do it?”

You...want to help me? You don't want me to do this on my own?

“Sure. Just ask if you dunno what goes where, okay?” Drake says, thankful that his voice is somewhat steadier than his hands.

His partner nods and gets to work. They asked once how everything in the kit worked so Drake laid it all out and taught him. It felt nice having someone who wanted to listen to him talk about diabetes stuff.

He hears the test strip bottle close with a pop and the pricker calibrate with a ca-click. Just as Launchpad asks, he holds out a finger and lets his mind drift.

It's really not something he's used to, having someone around that he trusts will take care of him. For as long as he can remember, Drake could only rely on himself to get through whatever diabetic crisis he faced.

He was eight when he was diagnosed. At first, his parents did most of the hard work. He picked up on checking his blood sugar pretty quickly, but they would manage all his carb ratios and injections.

Then, they just sort of…stopped. Like they had only done it for him in the first place because he was too young to fully understand. By the time he was thirteen, he did pretty much everything on his own. So much so that more often than not on the tri-monthly visits to his endocrinologist, the car ride would be spent drilling his parents on what the past three months had been like.

Not that they ever told him they didn't care or want to care to his face. No, Drake had just picked up on it. But the night he overheard them talking about medical expenses was a particularly rude awakening.

He couldn't sleep for some reason and decided to watch some Darkwing Duck. He barely made it out of his bedroom when he heard voices.

“Why's everything gotta be so damn expensive!?”

Ah. His dad was looking at bills. So much for a DW marathon in peace and quiet. Drake had one foot back in his bedroom when he heard his mother reply.

“It doesn't really help that our current bank account looks like that, either…”

Forget going back to bed, his curiosity was peaked. He stayed still, straining to hear.

He wished he hadn't at what he heard next.

“Yeah, well, having a defective kid ain't cheap. Why couldn't you have had a normal one?”

To this day, he still remembers how his heart sank to his stomach.

Defective.

Defective.

Is that why they stopped helping? Why, at age sixteen, it was unspoken knowledge that Drake managed everything on his own? They didn't see a literal child in need, they saw a column of dollar signs. A black hole that sucked up all their cash and never gave it back.

His mom stayed quiet, and that hurt even more. She didn't care, either. Neither one of them did.

They were both selfish assholes that only cared about the alcohol they could've had stocked in their kitchen.

He cried himself to sleep that night, mourning the days when he could still trust his parents to take care of him and wishing he didn't have to live like this. If no one wanted to help him, he’d suck it up on his own. No one wanted to take care of him? Fine. Drake Mallard didn't need anyone else. He was better off on his own.

Those horrible feelings crash over him like a tidal wave now, twenty years later, and he doesn't know why they're here but he's overwhelmed by it all.

Why can't he just have a normal body? Why does his condition have to be so expensive and annoying and miserable sometimes? Why does he have to be so dependent on people when he tells himself that he’s better off working alone, when no one in his life has loved him enough to care anyway?

There's a price tag on his head (not just physical, because diabetes is a greedy little bitch), and it's only a matter of time until Launchpad figures this out. He won't want to stay up late to keep checking, to keep buying syringes or insulin or tests strips. He won't stay forever, and it's all Drake's fault, for getting so attached and having a broken, shitty body.

“Drake? Did I do something wrong?”

He blinks. There are tears in his eyes, a few of which have spilled down his cheeks.

“Uh,” his voice cracks. He wipes away the tears with his other hand. “No. N-no, you didn't do anything wrong. What were you doing?”

Launchpad cocks his head to the side and squints in concern. He knows there's more to Drake's answer, but he doesn't push yet. “I pricked your finger and put the blood in. You didn't even flinch, but I thought that was ‘cause you're used to this. Was there another reason?”

“I'm sorry.” And before Launchpad can start to ask for what? with his mouth already open, Drake rushes to say, “I'm sorry that out of all the people you could date, you got stuck with a chronically ill mess like me. You deserve a normal partner, and god you have no idea how badly I wish I was, but I'm not. I'll always be a burden and I know you won't want to stick around to deal with all the shit that comes with diabetes.

“Not that I don't want you to stay, please don't think that, but…” More tears fall and he brushes them aside, accidentally smearing blood on his feathers. “I’m not used to someone wanting to take care of me, and I don't want it to stop.”

He doesn't take his eyes off of Launchpad as he cries. If this were a cartoon, he would laugh at how quickly their expression changes. Confusion, concern, and realization flash across their face before their eyes soften again in concern.

“Baby,” they say, reaching out to cradle Drake's face. They gently wipe away the blood with their thumb, and Drake feels weak. Loving touches were something he was never given as a child, and it's taken some getting used to. It burns, unfamiliar and wonderful, every time Launchpad touches him. All he can do in this moment is lean into it and shut his eyes.

“Look at me, please?” He groans internally as he opens his eyes. Later, when his blood sugar isn't so low and he can properly think, he’ll recall the look on his boyfriend's face as determined. “I love you, so much. You're not a burden, and you never will be. Being with you is a new experience, sure, but it's a good one. It's not your fault your body's like this, and it doesn't make you any less amazing.

“Heck, if anything, it makes you even more so. You have to do more to stay healthy than most people, and you're really good at it! St. Canard is a better place with Darkwing Duck and Drake Mallard.” Launchpad leans in to kiss his forehead. “They were wrong, you're not unlovable.”

He's so gentle, so sweet, and it's all too much for Drake to wrap his mind around. Never mind the low, he's just heard what he's secretly always wanted to. He is good. He is loved. He...needs to know what his blood sugar actually was before he cries an entire ocean. One more thing, though.

“Uh,” seems like a good place to start as he scrambles to pick up the pieces of himself. He takes a shaky breath. “Thank you. Sorry I dumped all of that onto you, I don't know where it came from tonight, but. Thanks. I really needed that.”

LP still looks a little sad and it makes his heart hurt, but he bites down on his beak to avoid apologizing again. “No problem. Sometimes it just comes out of nowhere.” He strokes his cheek some more, and Drake sighs.

“This is nice and all, but,” his eyes dart to the meter still sitting in front of him. They got distracted for too long and now the little screen is dark. “Did you catch the number that showed up?”

“Buh?” Launchpad's eyes widen as he remembers what they were doing before. “Oh, dang it! Sorry! Do I need to do it again, or-”

Eh, they probably should, but Drake doesn't want to. It hasn't been too long anyways, maybe five minutes? He’ll be fine. “No, you're good, just press the button with the arrows. All the pricks get stored so you can look at them later.”

Any distress on their face is quickly replaced by a beaming smile. “Neat!” They do as Drake asked, and a number pops up: 46.

“Lovely,” Drake groans. “And I just ate. Maybe I just took too much insulin. Or am I getting sick? If I can't keep anything down in the next hour, I swear-”

LP snapping his fingers in his face pulls him away from his rambling. “Hello? Earth to Drake Mallard. I dunno what made you low, but we gotta fix it first. Would more juice work?”

Oh yeah. Hm, more juice or something else? Even though he feels exhausted, going to sleep is a bad idea. He's gotta stay up until he's back in range, so…

“Actually, do you have any Pep?” Launchpad tilts his head and furrows his brow as Drake explains. “Normally I wouldn't ask, but I think something with that much sugar would really help. Plus, the caffeine will keep me awake.”

They look less confused now, but their head remains tilted slightly. “There's not that much caffeine in Pep, though.”

“You forget I don't drink the regular Peps nearly as often as you do, LP.” The last time he actually had one was...ten years ago? They work great for treating a low quickly and that's the only time he ever cares to drink them. It's not worth the extra insulin or highs to try to look normal.

“Oh yeah! So you're not used to the sugar.” He nods. “Okay, be right back.” Launchpad takes about twenty seconds to get a Pep and come back to Drake. The tab's already open. “Uh, do you need to drink the whole thing right now?”

He really shouldn't, the juice is probably still processing. Still, it's very tempting to chug the entire thing just to put more sugar in his body. But he wants his blood sugar to be normal, not sky high. “No, I'll probably drink half of it right now. Thank you.” He takes the Pep and sips, blinking at the sheer amount of sugar flooding his taste buds.

The fact that most people drink enough of this stuff to where they hardly notice it boggles his mind. Not that the diet stuff is really healthier, but it's definitely a different taste.

Guess he's pulling a graveyard shift tonight. But at least he's with Launchpad.

(That's the other thing about drinking regular sodas; he gets really hyper. Last time, he couldn't fall asleep until exactly two am. Being tired but unable to sleep is the absolute worst feeling, and you can't change Drake's mind.)

Now that he can think a little more clearly, he realizes something.

“I can't drive like this,” he says. Driving with a low blood sugar is really dangerous, and not his usual kind. It's the kind of dangerous that could get himself, or someone else, or even both, killed. “And I'm definitely not walking home anytime soon, so. Guess our date’s been extended?”

Launchpad blinks at him, then claps his hands together and grins. “You're staying overnight! I mean, I wish it was under better circumstances, obviously, but. Yay!” He rocks on his heels before catching himself and looking away, a faint blush appearing on his face. “Anyways, is there anything else you need?”

Drake's about to reply not right now, thank you, but then he realizes something that's actually pretty important.

“Wait, since I'm staying here tonight, could I use your bathroom really quick? I, uh, need to take my binder off,” he admits. He’d forgotten it was even there until he remembered wait, you need to take that off before you go to sleep. He put it on about a half hour after he woke up, which was at noon, and it's midnight now so...oops. It's past time to take it off.

His boyfriend nods. “Yeah, no worries! Do what you gotta do. Wait.” His brow furrows. “You need me to help you over there?”

“I,” he falters. “Wouldn't mind it if you did.” The sugar's kicking in now, but he still doesn't trust himself. Given how clumsy he is? Better safe than sorry.

Launchpad holds his arms as he walks to the bathroom. He closes the door, Launchpad sitting in front of it just in case, and turns to the mirror. His shirt hits the floor, soon followed by his binder. A sigh of relief fills the air as he folds it. He hadn't realized how long he'd been wearing it. Tomorrow will have to be a skip day just to stay on the safe side.

(Hormones aren't a concern; he's not on them right now and is perfectly fine with that. The cost of that and insulin would be hard to juggle, anyways.)

He opens the door to find Launchpad staring at him, and he smiles shyly. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Launchpad smiles back, and holds out his hand. Drake takes it and pulls his boyfriend to his feet. They walk back to the couch together. “So, what are we doing? You can't go to sleep until your blood sugar's back up and we were in the middle of an episode of Darkwing Duck.”

“I like the way you think,” Drake teases. “So long as you check every now and then to make sure I haven't fallen asleep yet.” He sits down in his original spot.

“Whatever you need,” they reply, and sit down next to him. They wrap their around his waist and Drake leans into their side as he tries to find the remote. It occurs to him just then that there's still something he hasn't said yet. Something bigger than “thank you.”

He taps LP on the shoulder. They turn to look at him and oh no, he's already flustered. “I just. You said you, uh, loved me earlier and I wanted to say that, that I love you too.” His face is burning, and he got quieter at the end, but at least it’s out in the open now.

Launchpad’s eyes soften and he tilts his head close enough to kiss Drake. It's a quick peck, but sweet nonetheless. When he pulls away, he's smiling. “You're wonderful, you know that?”

Drake only blushes more and buries his face in Launchpad's chest. He can feel Launchpad chuckle and oh. Oh, that's really nice. He likes that a lot. He would stay right here, but the sounds of the Darkwing Duck episode are a siren song that never fails to lure him in.

They stay there, watching episode after episode and Launchpad checking in every so often. By the time Drake's blood sugar has gone back to normal, he stops watching and starts really thinking about the events of the night.

He doesn't have to do this on his own anymore. Someone actually wants to take care of him now.

He is loved. Really, truly loved. And he’ll never let Launchpad go.

[starxscream]

Something comforting

    The night was cool and quiet, not a soul to be seen.  Only a soft pattering of paws echoed through the empty walkways.  Pace quickening, nervous, unsure where it was going.  Just needing out.  Just needing to “breathe”.

    If he could sweat, he would be.  Trying not to panic.

    He was exhausted, interrupting his sleep cycle after a nasty nightmare that woke him abruptly from his slumber.  With every step his chest got tighter, and tighter, and for a brief moment he was thankful he didn’t actually have to breathe otherwise he was sure he would have passed out.

    There was no rhyme or reason as to why he was out here- just could not be in his apartment.  It was so empty.  So lonely.  So...suffocating.  An empty shell, just like he was, just like he was trying hard not to admit.  Cackling echoes in his head, a dreadful thudding noise in his ears, eyes squeezing shut as he forces himself forward.  Flashes of claws and pain and a voice that used to haunt the inside of his mind rattle around behind his eyelids, and he nearly cries.  He knows he can’t, biting his lip with a low whine as he hears his systems spark in his chest.

    Soon his paws meet grass, and he gasps, eyes flashing open to view the park that he had unknowingly wandered into.  Shakily, he slowly makes his way further in, looking at the trees, the plants, behind him, making sure there was nothing hidden in the depths.

    It was just as quiet as everywhere else, just the sound of nature and owls that were out for the night.

    With a deep shaky sigh, he rubs his hands down his face. Surely he was losing it.  He didn’t even know what park this was, or how far he had gone from his apartment.  There is a bench nearby, and finally, he moves over to sit down.  As soon as he does, he draws his legs into his chest, burying his face into his knees to form a ball.

    He was lost.  He was alone.  Haunted by what was rattling in his brain.  Every noise could be it.  Every second that passed he could be found by it.  A rattling sob finally manages to rip out from his throat, hot purple-tinted tears prickling at the corners of his eyes.  A function that he so desperately wished had never been installed.  He doesn’t want to, but he can’t stop himself, ears flooded with the noise of sparking and systems firing while he sobs into his knees, shoulders bouncing as he cries.  His head tells him to stop, error noise upon error noise, but he can’t.  He’s lost, he’s alone, he’s scared, he wants to go home, he doesn’t want to go to an empty apartment, he wants-

    “...Diogo? That you?”

    He freezes, recognizing the voice almost instantly.  Freezing and hoping that they would just go away.  Leave him alone.  Do not see him like this.  To not see him so weak and pathetic and ugly and-

    “Hey, uh, y’need to talk or somethin?”

    Diogo can hear them kneel in front of him, frozen in his place.  He knows they’re staring.  He knows they’re looking.  He knows they’re judging.  He knows-

    “Is it ok t’touch ya? ‘M not gonna do anything bad or nothin’.”

    There’s a faint pause in Diogo’s thought process, still tightening ever further into his ball, almost wanting to disappear.  Yet finding a strange warmth in the other’s voice, at the attempt to sound soft and comforting despite the rough tone.  He knows better than to trust them, to let them see him like this, expecting them to say something stupid like they always did.  But Diogo isn’t sure why he found himself nodding.

    He feels their large hands carefully find his own, gently pulling them from their vice-like grip from around his legs.  Thumbs stroke the back of his hands, and Diogo can feel his sobs lessen their grip on his chest, slowly going back to a steady state.  They were quiet, only offering a comforting touch, and Diogo’s hands began to squeeze back- tightly.  Not wanting to let go.  Wanting more, the support, the comfort, just to not feel.

    “Y’er okay…”

    They quietly repeat, dulling out the sounds of system errors and Diogo’s own internal voices.  There’s a lingering sniffle, but slowly, eventually, Diogo pulls his head up, wet tear trails still staining his face.  As his vision clears, he can finally make out the android in front of him.  They lacked the stupid smirk that they usually wore, instead their face was laced with concern, perking up as Diogo finally moved, a soft smile of relief etching it’s way onto their features.  Diogo was surprised that Eryth of all people was...well.  Being so nice.  To him.

    “Y’good to talk now?”

    Diogo shakes his head no, glancing away from Eryth, who gives a nod in response.  One of his hands moves away from Diogo’s, carefully hovering at the side of Diogo’s face.  Diogo flinches at the movement, and Eryth freezes immediately, smile disappearing.

    “Is this okay?”

    They repeat, not allowing themselves to do anything Diogo was not comfortable with.  Diogo looks over at Eryth, watching his hand out of the corner of his eyes.  There were no claws.  There was hesitation.  They just waited, letting Diogo make the decision.  Taking a faux deep inhale, Diogo nods tentatively, his hand squeezing Eryth’s other one just a bit tighter.  His eyes squeezing shut as Eryth’s other hand gently places itself on his face.

    It’s a lot at once, the gentleness of Eryth’s actions, the movement of his thumb wiping away his tears, the soft comforting rubbing that he was trying to give.  Diogo can feel his systems speed up, to make sense of the foreign sensations without overheating.  Yet Eryth was going so slow, so careful to allow Diogo’s systems to catch up without an issue.  The other android knew that it was a possibility that he wanted to avoid.

    As Eryth continues his motions, Diogo’s legs slowly uncurl from his chest like a sealed chest that was finally being opened to the person with the key.  His eyes open again, to see Eryth leaning forward further into his space, face ever closer to Diogo’s own.  He seemed focused on the other android, careful, not making any sort of quip or shitty joke that Diogo had expected.

    The lights in his cheeks flicker for a moment, Diogo observing the other in silence, trying to focus on the small ministrations that Eryth was giving him.  It was...nice.  Having someone there.  Even if Diogo kept expecting the other shoe to drop, he didn’t want it to drop, knowing that at some point Eryth would flaunt this over his head.  Use it against him whenever they would eventually argue next.  Something.  Diogo hated that he was showing this side of himself to Eryth.  He hated that Eryth was being nice.  He hated how much he liked his hand in Eryth’s.  He hated how Eryth was making him feel better.

    But Diogo didn’t pull away.

    “D’ya need anythin’?” 

    Eryth finally breaks the silence once again, hand still gently cupping Diogo’s cheek.  Diogo blinks, slowly, unsure.  Not wanting to ask.  He glances off to the side, looking around, as if he expected someone to be there.  Watching.  Ready to use this against him in the future.  Paranoid of losing this person he had so carefully crafted himself to be.  Unconsciously, his hand grips Eryth tighter, a shake beginning to rattle his body.  Fears gradually build more and more, tearing away at his mind.  What did he need?  What did he want?

    “Diogo…” His name is spoken oh-so softly, “It’s okay, promise.  No one here but you ‘n me.” As if reading his mind, carefully observing Diogo’s movements.

    “That’s-” Diogo’s voice finally works, sounding staticy at first as the system makes itself work again.  “That’s what I’m-” He stutters, unable to fully admit his fear, but Eryth seemed to understand all the same.

    “I’m not gonna do shit if ya don’t want me to.” Eryth hand slides away from his face, taking Diogo’s other hand once again, “Not even I’m gonna kick a man when he’s down, I may be a real piece ‘a shit but I ain’t that bad.”  His tone gets lighter, trying to ease the mood just a little.  “‘Sides, even if I tried, you’d probably kick my ass into next week!”

    There’s a soft wheeze from Diogo’s chest, involuntary he’d claim.  But Eryth’s grin gets wider, not missing a single beat.  It wasn’t the same usual stupid smirk Diogo despised so much, but a genuine lopsided smile, and Diogo couldn’t help but stare.  He felt, warm.  His thoughts melted into the back of his mind.  Eased by Eryth’s reassurance, somehow.  He may be an idiot, but Eryth never did lie to him.

    Maybe that’s why his body moved how it did.

    Without really thinking, Diogo lurched forward, trying to grab Eryth and either pull them closer or himself closer to them.  It was clumsier than intended, still shaky from his near panic-attack, finding himself just tumbling into the other android with an oof! His long hair flew out behind him as he tumbled, falling erratically over the two.

    Eryth is stunned at the sudden shift for a moment, unsure what to do as Diogo collides into him and he stumbles backwards on his heels, falling onto his butt into the grass with Diogo clutching their jacket and pressing his face into their chest.  He blinks down at Diogo for a moment, hearing the smaller android sniffle, before carefully wrapping their arms around him, pulling Diogo into his lap for a more comfortable position without a word.  He understood, and knew better, than to say anything right now.  Not while Diogo was this fragile.

    Diogo pressed himself tightly into Eryth, curling up against the other android as Eryth brought him closer.  Claiming whatever comfort the feeling of being held and near someone else was giving him.

    As Eryth’s arms slowly held him tighter, Diogo felt himself relaxing more and more.  His worries seemingly fading away as he listens to Eryth’s systems fire from beneath the metal plating of his chest.  Quicking and fading, similar to breathing- but not quite.

    Most importantly, however, Diogo felt safe.

    There were no claws.  There was no one waiting around the corner.  No empty apartment.  No mirror that showed what he didn’t want to see.

    Just Eryth, and an overwhelming feeling of comfort.

    He hardly notices Eryth beginning to rock them both, slowly, one of his hands gently rubbing at Diogo’s back.  Eryth’s chin eventually lowers, maybe a little daring to softly press his lips to the top of Diogo's head.  He lingers for a moment, feeling the strands of Diogo's hair on his face, before pulling away and resting his chin on Diogo's head instead. 

    Diogo lets out a quiet sigh, tension easing from his body, replaced with a lingering exhaustion having been out for so long with lack of a proper charge and his expended mental state.  He barely notices the soft kiss Eryth planted on his head, leaning further and further into the other android, eyelids slowly coming to a close.

    He doesn’t hear himself softly purring, the noise barely audible as he finds himself slipping off into slumber.  Feeling comforted in this small piece of the world that only contained himself and Eryth, the bigger android seemingly blocking out everything around them to make this bubble that encapsulated them both.  He doesn’t see Eryth smile at the noise, saying nothing about it.

    Soon Diogo doesn’t hear anything at all, his systems shutting down and entering into a sleep mode, his body slumped against Eryth’s.

    “...Diogo?” Eryth softly murmurs, not getting a response, knowing that he’d need to get him home sooner or later.  He waits for a response for a moment, before carefully moving his head to get a better look, seeing Diogo sleeping peacefully in his arms.

    “Ah shit...” Eryth immediately realizes, knowing that if he moved he risked a very cranky Diogo- and he really didn’t feel like ruining the moment.  Meaning he was stuck here, on the ground, with none other than Diogo in his arms.  This was such a strange night.

    He observes Diogo for a little while.  As strange as it was, he felt a similar warmth in his own chest.  Weirdly happy that they had crossed paths tonight, getting a glimpse at the man behind the ego.  A little bit of truth that Eryth selfishly wanted to hoard for himself.

    Resting his chin on Diogo’s head once again, Eryth slowly lowers his body and Diogo with him to lay back on the grass, knowing that in the previous position it would get really uncomfortable really fast.  Diogo rustled for a moment- but didn’t awaken.  With a sigh Eryth keeps his arms around the android, letting Diogo sleep for the night while he stares at the vast sky full of stars and he wonders.

    Wonders why he wanted to never let Diogo go.

[sylvie-writes]

Bad (3): Memories We Used to Share

First inspired by this song ➳ Bad by Lennon Stella

(Ransom Drysdale x wife reader)

Summary: It’s time to move out! 6 months of getting your life sorted, along with a few surprises, some pleasant, others not so much.

A/n: My search history is looking weird, due to this series haha. I’ve been reading multiple articles about uncontested divorce just to get an understanding for this series lmao. 

Disclaimer: Just so you know, I’m not a law school graduate, so I can’t say I really know what in the hell I am talking about. With that being said, if I screw up the divorce process in this chapter and/or the next, please don’t come at me. Our law system is confusing and I’m just here to write, no one said it would be accurate lol. 

Warnings: mild profanity & your typical cheesy, predictable fanfic by yours truly. 

Shoutout: MANY THANKS TO THE ANON WHO GAVE ME SOME IDEAS TO MAKE THIS A SERIES!

As always, plz pardon any mistakes, the stories are always proofread but I tend to make many mistakes regardless.

Series Masterlist

For six months, you worked to get your life back together. 

By the end of April, a week after you yelled at your (ex) husband, you had successfully packed up your stuff, without being bothered by the man. Ever since the night you had confronted him, the two of you never stood in the same room or even looked the other in the eye. So it worked in your favor today that he was busy with his new flame, probably entertaining her with a trip to Prada. Never once did you take a break, for eight straight hours, you spent one whole Saturday organizing and strategically packing your things away. Around eight o’clock, all of the boxes were stacked by the front door, ready to be moved into the U-haul trailer attached to your car. Lucky for you, Ransom could care less about what was his and what was yours. The dog, also going home with you. In truth, ever since that day you rightfully ripped the man for his mistakes, a black cloud has loomed over his head, no matter what he may be on the outside, he’s broken on the inside. 

One more box was left in the bedroom, and you quickly jogged up the stairs to get it. Unbeknownst to you, as you were upstairs, Ransom and Blair had come home, apparently mindless to your car in the driveway, because when you walked down the stair box in hand the two pulled away from each other’s lips, staring at you.

You had made an agreement with Ransom that he’d not show up while you packed your things. He had done a good job so far, up until now that is. “Oh, (y/n), I didn’t think you’d be here this late. You should get some rest.”

His “concern” disgusted you. Now he decides to care about you? I think not.

Filled with rage, you drop the cardboard box, letting the contents inside shatter. In most divorces, there wouldn’t be this much emotion, but it hurt you beyond words can describe, to see this man that you loved with every inch of your body, kissing another woman, in YOUR house. You could even see yourself in her shoes, because damn, once upon a time, you WERE her. 

“Are you okay!” Blair came rushing to your side, to try and move you out of the shattered glass. She seemed like a genuinely nice person, and had she not been a home-wrecker, you’d want to be her friend. But at this moment, all you could think about was that she wasn’t even bothered by the fact that she’d been seeing a married man. So, just as Blair tried to help you, you pushed away her hands and collapsed on the steps, lightly sitting in the glass, yet numb to the pain. The weight of the world had finally, physically pushed you to the ground. You were at wits end, and things were looking pretty dark. At this point, you couldn’t even see the light at the end of the tunnel. What had you done to deserve this and would there be a second chance for you? 

Just then, Ransom came to remove Blair, telling her to go get ready for bed, the two clearly coming from a night of clubbing. As she ran up the stairs, mindful of the glass, Ransom came to pick you up. Grabbing your arms, you laid limp against his chest, willingly letting him carry you down the stairs. Oh how you missed his caring touch, why couldn’t things be different? It should've been you out dancing with him, you lip locked with him. Instead, here you were, letting the man who single-handedly destroy your life, carrying you to the couch, laying a blanket and a long kiss on your cheek. Consumed with emotions, sleep soon took over your body before you could protest and leave the house. Had you only heard Ransom’s apology.

“I’m so sorry my precious (y/n), it shouldn’t have been this way, my love.” A few stray tears rolled down Ransom’s cheek as he sadly sauntered up the stairs. 

Ironic, how in a house that was once yours, a new woman took your spot in the bed, besides your once husband, while you slept on the couch like a toy banned to the isle of misfits. 

The next morning, you woke up to the smell of coffee and giggles. You were angry at yourself, no doubt, how could you be so vulnerable by staying at the house? Before you could think anymore, you walked to get your keys, finding that Blair was in the kitchen, cooking pancakes for Ransom, who sat at the kitchen table with coffee and the newspaper. You kinda screwed yourself, by leaving your car keys on the kitchen table. It was your only escape and unfortunately it meant interacting with dumb and dumber. 

The two once again forgot you were there, shocked to see your form walking through the doorway. With a fake smile, you grumbled out a few choice words.

“Don’t worry, I’m getting out of your house ya lovebirds!”

Victory at last. Your words stung Ransom, well, rather word. In another time, you’d say our house, but now, it was no longer the Drysdales’ Household, no, it was Drysdale’s Household, hence why you reminded Ransom that he was alone. Sure, Blair was there but you both knew it wouldn’t last. 

That day, when Ransom and Blair had once again left, going god knows where, Ransom texted you that you could pack your boxes into the u-haul trailer. Since you just wanted to haul ass out of the place this morning, you left the trailer and boxes behind, making a beeline to the nearest bar. So far you had handled yourself without alcohol, but now you needed some relief, specifically in a few whiskey sours. Around 3pm, Ransom then sent that text, and you sobered up, gracefully throwing up in the bathroom stall, then driving to the house to officially get out of his life. Even with a major headache, you managed to pack the trailer. It was then that you realized you were destined to function alone, you didn’t need Ransom. Screw him. 

In May, you went around town, scanning different apartments finally finding one. Unfortunately, there was a waitlist with three people in front of you, the estimated move in time being late July or August. With that being said, you moved all your things into a storage unit and continued to live in a hotel room. Thank the heavens you kept your job, despite Ransom’s pleas for you to stay home when you were married. Somehow, you were able to juggle working and functioning around others, coming home to be your true self, the night normally ending with takeout and tv. This divorce had truly ruined your life, and Ransom’s. The two of you constantly lived with the rain cloud, never once catching a break and seeing a rainbow overhead. For now, you were just separated and soon you’d file for divorce.

Around the last week of May, your life was turned upside down once again. This time, for a good reason. 

Currently, you were on lunch break, eating at a nearby diner with your closest work friend, Lorraine Bailey. She really has been your best friend, taking the title that used to belong to Ransom. At least she was loyal, understanding, and wasn’t a backstabbing bitch *ahem* your ex.

“How are you holding up, honey?”

You were too busy staring into the nothingness of your chicken sandwich, that when Lorainne gently shook your resting hand, you let out an incoherent “huh?”

“I was asking how you are doing? With everything that’s been going on in the past few months--”

Before she could answer, you just snapped, quickly yelling at the woman, who wasn’t trying to be nosy, she was genuinely concerned. 

“Could you just stop nosing around? It’s none of your business really!” 

At that, Lorraine leaned back in her seat, lowering her head like a scolded child. Honestly, you didn’t mean what you had just said and you had no clue where it came from. Lately, your mouth has been an unreliable thing, for you could barely control your answers without acting like a moody child.

Quickly, you excused yourself, lightly jogging to the bathroom to expel the few glasses of water you drank. As you washed your hands, upon looking in the mirror, you were met with a face you barely knew. Sure, you looked the same  on the outside, but on the inside you were a different person. No longer peppy or truly happy. Ransom had taken it all from you, but it was time to take that back. Walking out the bathroom door, you vowed to yourself from this point on you’d try to become your old self. 

Surprisingly, Lorraine still sat at the booth, allowing you to give her a real and sincere apology.

“Lorraine, I’m so sorry, I can’t even fathom the words to justify my actions. Lately, I haven’t been able to truly control my emotions and I took it out on you. That was wrong and I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve it, after all you’ve always been here for me.”

The woman smiled at you, despite the tears rolling down your face. Why were you crying and since when did you become such an emotional person? You weren’t cold hearted, but nor were you one to cry at a movie. 

“That’s fine, I know you are under a lot of pressure. What do you say we get out of here and spend the rest of break at the bakery across the street?”

“I’d say you know me very well!” 

Soon, you flagged down the waitress and paid the tab, ignoring Lorraine’s pleas to pay for lunch. It was the least you could do after yelling at the poor woman. As you left the restaurant, the guilt was still surfacing in your body and you felt the need to hug your best friend, who was happily surprised, hugging you back. 

Once in the bakery, you were met with the sight of homemade chocolates, like your dog at home, you were practically drooling. Let’s just say the baker was stunned when you bought two dozens of chocolate, and then proceeded to eat half on the way out. What was even more surprising, was that about a seventy-five percent of your order was chili dark chocolate. 

As you were walking down the street, and to work, Lorraine reached over, tasting one of your chocolates, a chili one to be exact. Her face twisted with disgust and her suspicions were confirmed. 

“Uh, (y/n), I think I might have an explanation for your constant mood swings, the amount of times you leave to the bathroom, and why you’d buy this absolute garbage!”

The minute she listed all the symptoms together, you immediately denied her. 

“Don’t even say it. I’m just moody because I’m mad, I pee a lot because, uh-”

“Exactly! Even you can’t explain all of it. Just do me a favor and buy a test. It won’t hurt anything to try.”

“Yeah, but I know you are wrong, Lorraine.”

“I mean c'mon, don’t you want to know too?”

At that moment, the two of you were halted in front of a CVS, Lorraine pointing at the store like she was Vanna White. 

Your conscience: Maybe you should listen to the woman, after all she has three kids!

And so you did.

Thank god your friend was there, because you were an absolute novice in this field. Sure, you wanted kids, but right now you were praying that you were just having an irregular cycle due to stress. Lorraine, the best, best friend anyone could ask for, bought the test to spare you the embarrassment. 

The minute you walked into work, Lorraine pulled you into the bathroom, giving you instructions, you following them, then waiting for the timer to beep.

Any minute now you’d find your results, and for some reason part of you wanted this test to be positive. It would be nice to have a little company.

Once the timer beeped, you looked at the plastic stick that held your future, immediately smiling when your answer was pregnant.

You were pregnant!

But the father...

Unlike Ransom, you weren’t unfaithful and unfortunately, the father was no doubt him. Of course, the one time that asshole sleeps with you, he got you pregnant. And to think at the time, he didn’t even really love you just enraged you even more. It was gonna be a while till you got over this. 

So the rest of the day you were thrilled, and it was a lot easier to stick to your vows from earlier. Your mood was noticeably different to many of your coworkers, smiles all around. The old (y/n) was slowly reappearing. 

June through July, you spent your days, working and when not working, taking advice on a baby from Lorraine, even visiting her doctor who she so highly recommended. Fortunately, the doctor didn’t prod around in your life and was absolutely judge-free about your situation. You couldn't have been more grateful. 

In early July, you reached the second trimester, where the slightest bump formed on your stomach. Now it wasn’t noticeable to everyone, but to you, just the slightest site made your lips turn upward into a smile. Motherhood was the best thing to happen to you. And to make matters even better, your baby was going to be a Christmas baby, making his or her appearance at the end of December! 

Telling Ransom was gonna be a whole other story.

Finally, August 3rd came around, and the apartment complex office called, an opening for you. Lease signed, you shelled out your first payment and soon moved in, once again alone. It had been months since you’d heard from Ransom and honestly it was nice. 

The month of August flew by, and soon September came. Time passed by with flying colors and your mood had improved a bit, the baby in your stomach making life worth living. On the last Friday of September, your work friends decided that they all needed to go out, inviting you the first weekend of October to go ice-skating and out for dinner! It was time you treated yourself to something nice, so you giddily agreed. What could go wrong? 

That Friday, after work, Lorraine came to pick you up, the two of you going to meet the rest at the ice skating rink. Being 26 weeks pregnant, your stomach had finally started showing, allowing your coworkers to start nagging you. Last they had all heard, you were divorced. So when they asked, you kept your lips shut, it really wasn’t any of their business. The only one who knew was Lorraine, but she wasn’t a gossiper.

Arriving at the ice rink, the cold Massachusetts air was blowing, making you zip up your trench coat ever the slightest. Unfortunately, the wind wasn’t the only thing making your blood run cold. 

Most of your coworkers were out on the ice, Lorraine going out too, you told her you’d be out soon. It was nice to watch the skaters enjoy their time on the ice till you saw him. 

The familiar tan suede coat made your face lose all warmth, your own jacket no longer keeping you warm. Beside the laughing man, was the one and only, Blair, except this time a new accessory on her finger. A diamond ring you could see all the way from your table along the side of the rink. His laughter made you sick, and at this point you wanted to throw up the hot cocoa you had been sipping on. 

At the moment, you and Ransom were in the middle of divorce, thank the heavens an uncontested one, having been able to work many things out with your ex. This meant, zero court hearings (hopefully), a thin expense, and overall a clean divorce. Then, you had hired a paralegal to work on the legal papers and currently the two of you were waiting to see the judge to finalize the divorce, the approximate date set around the second week of November. 

Feeling suddenly insecure, and definitely not ready to tell Ransom, you pulled the large trench coat across your chest and secured it with the belt around the waist. The minute you looked at them, all the memories came flooding back. One specifically hitting you at this moment.

“Ransom, I’m gonna fall! You know I’m a klutz.”

Your husband just persisted and instead slipped on your ice skates, tying them up and resting his warm hands on your knees.

“Honey, I will be right beside you the whole time, and by the end of this, you’ll be a pro!”

His reassuring smile was all you needed, nodding, you placed your gloved hands in Ransom’s bare ones, trying to waddle your way to the rink entrance. First, Ransom skated onto the ice, turning and holding his hand out for you. The minute your feet made contact with the icy ground beneath, you fell straight to the ground, Ransom reached out to grab you, although he ended up going down with you. You looked at Ransom who wore an entertained smile on his face, laughing. Playfully, you slapped the man on the shoulder. 

“My failure isn’t funny!”

Ransom tried his best to cease his laughter, getting off the ice to help you up, although he was still chuckling the slightest bit. 

“I’m sorry, I can’t help it!” 

Once on your feet, Ransom locked arms with you, trying his best to balance you both, while also coaching you. 

At some point through the night, the fake snow was fluttering in the air, along with tunes of piano and jazz. You had finally gotten the hang of things somewhat, yet still latched close to Ransom. The man on your side, leaned down and whispered in your ear.

“I give you my word that every year I’ll bring you to this exact rink, just to teach you how to skate, darling.”

If only that same Ransom was the one you were staring at right now. 

But overall, looking back, memories like those, with him, are the ones you miss.

Why did he have to change?

“(y/n)?”

A tap on your shoulder, made you pop up from your seat to be met with the stare of that same man. He slowly gave you a once-over, making you slightly worry that he’d notice the baby bump.

He didn’t. 

“Ransom.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing, Drysdale.” 

Clearly, Ransom was trying to give you an olive branch, but at the moment, you just weren’t accepting it.

“I asked you first, (y/l/n).”

“Work.”

Your voice was monotone and Ransom gave a slight hum of acknowledgment. 

“Nice. Well uh- it was nice seeing you.”

Nervously, Ransom waved you goodbye, heading back to Blair who was removing her ice skates. You took notice how she was struggling and Ransom wasn’t down on his knees helping her as he did you. It did your ego good to see that your husband hadn’t completely replaced you. There was a difference between you and Blair. Ransom actually loved you, like the “die for you” kind of love. While Blair, on the other hand, was honestly there to fill the whole in his heart. 

It did intrigue you though as to why Ransom wasn’t being an arrogant jerk to you, yet he was being humble? None of it added up, but before you could do any more mental acrobatics, Lorraine came over, asking you to come ice skate, to which you smiled and put on your skates. 

Tonight was about you, not him. 

Something you hadn’t said in a long time.

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[wouldduskwood]

Descendants of Despair Part 38

“You know, you could have just used my setup?” Jake queried. I shrugged. “You were gone, I didn’t know for how long or what would happen next.” Sighing, Jake took my injured hand in his and kissed the back of it. “I’m not going to pretend to be sorry for reacting in anger. Willingly putting yourself in harm's way like that, it will always be a trigger for me.” It was easy enough to symphasise with his reaction. I knew I’d have reacted in much the same way, probably even more spectacularly, if he had said anything remotely as blunt as I had.

To mask my discomfort in the situation, I made my way to the other side of the room, where my knife lay, now covered in drying blood. Picking it up, I frowned. “Probably looks a bit suspicious now, doesn’t it?” I muttered. I wasn’t usually a sentimental person. There had never been much in my life to be sentimental about, so the few things I had kept from my past held a lot of significance to me. Appearing beside me, Jake gingerly removed the knife from my hand then emptied the antiseptic wash over it and gave it a quick clean with the leftover supplies. “Good as new,” he declared, folding the blade back into its housing. I held out my hand expectantly and Jake cast me a concerned look. “Urgh, look I can handle a knife.” I groaned. “The cut was an unfortunate mistake because my mind wasn’t properly on the task at hand.”

Sighing, Jake returned my blade and I placed it back in its hidden pocket. “Come here,” he took my uninjured hand and led me to his setup. “I need you to have access to my system as well. It will give me peace of mind that if I ever have to walk out to calm down, you won’t be back here killing yourself with dangerous weaponry. I’m going to give you my access details so you will gain full access to everything I have on here.” He cast a quick glance at me.

“That is a big thing for me, just so you know. I never thought I’d ever give anyone full access to anything of mine. That’s how much I trust you. That’s how much I love you. The username is Nym0s01040.” He paused awkwardly as I typed it in. “Uh, the password at the moment is wH0_1$-sH3?” His awkward spelling out of the password made me turn to face him. He was blushing profusely.

I raised an eyebrow as I stared at him. He shrugged and gave a half smile as he pushed the keys himself. As his system booted into life, I continued to watch Jake closely. He seemed to be past his momentary embarrassment and instead solely focused on the equipment in front of him. As each screen connected, I was confronted with various windows. Black screens with varying coloured syntaxes. I knew a bit about programming from my past study and things I had taught myself, but the depth of his knowledge was far more than I could ever imagine.

I found myself drawn into the intricacies of his hacking. The bits I could understand were pure brilliance. He had a way of masking his movements so only the very best would ever be able to find the small traces left. The structure he used was elegant and concise. It appeared he left very little or no room for any errors. Some of his hacks were dedicated solely to security. The system was set to check and another to check the checks - he really had planned for everything. Another simpler programme appeared to have been put together quicker. The depth of code wasn’t so extreme - but I could see the basic function was to alert Jake if anything popped up regarding Richy.

“Woah…” I muttered, then turned to face Jake. He was watching me with wide eyes. “That woah isn’t complete confusion, is it? You actually understand some of this don’t you?” He asked in bewilderment. Shrugging, I replied, “Well, I did tell you I had graduated with both teaching and technology. You didn’t ask what branch of technology.”

“So, back when you asked me what system I used to hack with...it was a genuine question with some actual understanding behind what I was saying?” he murmured. Nodding, I sat back thoughtfully. “That...and it seemed like a key part of who you are. What did you expect me to ask anyway?” I asked in wonder. “I dunno, something more arbitrary I guess. Maybe hair colour or something.” He shrugged. “You know, that question kept me awake at night. I didn’t know whether you had asked it because you were genuinely interested or because you wanted to play me in some way, shape or form.”

“Maybe it was a bit of both,” I admitted, then before he could ask anymore questions, I began typing, staring intently at one of his screens. He watched, impressed, as I brought up the map I had been working from earlier.

Part 39

[motherjoel]

Leading Lady (Spencer Reid x Reader)

chapter six- whispers of are you sure

wc: 2.1k

summary: you and spencie get closer owo

a/n: im sorry i haven’t posted a chapter in awhile :/

chapter index: chap 1, chap 2, chap 3, chap 4, chap 5

-

You started to stir from your nap when you heard hushed voices a few desks down. Remaining quiet, you kept your head down to listen in on the conversation.

“Listen man, it sounds like you’re crushin hard on this girl,” you recognized Morgan's voice. Reid spoke next in hushed tones.

“It doesn’t matter how I feel about her, it's just unprofessional. And besides, she would probably go for a guy like you anyway,” said Spencer.

You could feel your heart break. It didn’t take a genius to know that they were talking about you, but it saddened you to hear about Spencer’s lack of confidence. In your eyes, he was the ideal man. You wanted to show that to him one day. 

“Now you listen to me. You gotta stop getting in the way of your own happiness. Any girl would be lucky to have you, you just have to see it for yourself,” Morgan told him, warming your heart. This team was like a family, and you had to admit, you were a little jealous about their love for each other, but it was good to know that Spencer had such a great support system. You felt kind of weird listening in, however, so you decided to “wake up.” Slowly lifting your head, you yawned and stretched before looking over at the two men with a sleepy smile, pretending to just realize that they were there.

“Hey sleepy head,” said Morgan before getting up and turning to Spencer. “I gotta help Hotch with something,” he told him, leaning in to say the next part more quietly. “Remember what I told you,” he said before clapping Spencer on his shoulder and ruffling your hair when he walked past you. You smiled at the exchange and turned back to see Spencer nervously picking at his fingernails. 

“So, what'd I miss? You catch the guy yet?” you asked in an attempt to lighten the mood. Spencer just chuckled nervously and shook his head.

“No, not yet,” he paused, thinking of what to say next. “I’m glad you got some sleep in. Studies show that most healthy adults need to get between 7 and 9 hours of sleep each night to function at their best,” he told you, continuing to nervously ramble, citing multiple facts about sleep. You just smiled at him, not fully processing his words. You were just mesmerized by his intelligence and passion for mundane facts. He noticed you staring. “What?” he asked nervously.

“Oh I'm sorry,” you said, flustered. “It's just… you're cute when you ramble,” you blushed and looked down. Spencer had the same reaction.

“Oh. Most people think it's annoying, the team normally cuts me off,” he said, avoiding eye contact. You could almost see the gears turning in his head, almost as if he regretted saying that for fear of judgement. 

“If anything, it's... endearing,” you said, lifting your head back up to meet his gaze. He looked surprised that someone enjoyed his quirks. To you, this is what made him genuine and irresistible, irreplaceable. The two of you stared intensely for a moment before you started to speak at the same time.

“I thin-” you started.

“Do you-” he began.

You both laughed in response to this, the silence continuing for a moment longer.

“Y/N,” he started, with a shakiness in his voice, “I know we’ve only known each other for a few days, but I really care about you. Every time I have a breakthrough on this case, the first person I think of is you,” he started. You got up from your desk to walk closer to him as he went on. “And I don’t know what to call that, but you’re just really pretty and you’re so nice to me and you always are interested in what I have to say and you smell really goo-” you cut him off by softly grabbing the sides of his face. 

“I have never met anyone like you before,” you told him in awe, stars in your eyes. He mimicked your expression, his surprise melting into adoration. Your eyes flicker down to his lips and he wordlessly nods, accepting what you had so badly wanted to do from the minute you met him. Slowly, you leaned in until you were an inch away from his face.

“Are you sure?” you whispered, wanting to confirm your mutual feelings. You weren't imagining this, right? Spencer didn't wait a second to wordlessly accept. With a small but nervous laugh, he closed the distance between his chapped lips and yours, resting his hands on your waist and pulling you closer. It was as if you were in a movie, the magical spark between you two. Your kisses with Logan hadn’t been like this- they didn’t hold this emotion, this longing. Logan's kisses were chores, not luxuries. A few seconds, what could have been hours, had passed before you pulled away and rested your forehead on his, eyes still closed. You wanted to savor this moment of peace, this calm before the inevitable storm. You both jump to the sound of an attention grabbing cough. Turning around you see a sly Prentiss, feigning gravitas.

“Uh, Hotch wants to see you. We’re going over possible unsubs and he thinks it would be good for you guys to be there. But, by all means, finish what you were doing first,” she said with a wink before speed walking into the conference room where the rest of the team was.

“So…” you trailed off.

“Yeah, so…” he replied looking at you with his blush still lingering.

“We should probably go see what's up,” you told him, although you didn’t want your time with him to end.

“Good idea,” he replied, and the two of you began your walk into the conference room, his hand resting on the small of your back as he led you. Once you got inside and settled in a seat next to JJ and Spence, you looked around to see the entire room staring at you with odd smiles. Rossi even shoots you a wink. Huh, word really does get around fast. You didn’t mind them knowing, however- you knew you had their support if Spence was happy. And that's all you could ask for.

“So about those unsubs!” Spencer starts, trying to diffuse the childish energy in the room. 

“Right,” Hotch begins, trying to hide his own sly smirk. “We found out that the time of death of the latest suspect was at around 5:30, just like you thought,” said Hotch in a more serious tone.

“That would give Nichols the perfect amount of time to make the kill and then show up late to rehearsal,” replied Rossi. You were shocked.

“Wait, Nichols? As in Matt Nichols, my Matt Nichols?” you asked, frantically. Reid flinched at your intensity and the use of “my” when referring to Matt, but you didn’t care. Matt might get on your nerves sometimes but you wouldn’t let him take the fall for something like this. You couldn’t have one of your leads getting arrested the week before the show, either. “A guy shows up late to one rehearsal and you assume he's a serial killer? Man, he can’t catch a break,” you huffed with a mirthless smile. 

“Y/N, you have to admit, he fits the profile perfectly,” offered JJ, you just shook your head.

“I see the way he looks at you,” said Spencer, softly. As he continues he attempts to speak with more conviction but to you it sounded like he was trying to prove some far fetched conspiracy. “And that guy is possessive. When we kissed at your rehearsal the guy looked like he wanted to kill me!’ he said, trying to convince you. The mention of the kiss earned a whistle from Garcia on her screen. 

“Not the time, Garcia,” Spencer snapped. You were in shock. The nerve he possessed to be giving an attitude right now surprised you. You could tell he was just on edge because he cared about you, but you didn’t want him snapping on his teammates because of you. 

“I’m sorry you guys, but just because Matt and I used to have a ‘thing,’ doesn’t mean he wants me dead,” you said, standing up and walking out of the room. Your head was spinning and you needed some fresh air. 

You grabbed Spencer’s sweater from where you left it on the chair and tugged it on before making your way outside. Once you were finally in the cold air you felt like you could breathe. How could this happen? Only a few short days ago you were at the top of your game, starring in your dream role and working towards a promotion at work, granted, the amount of times you had to call out for FBI business might affect that. The BAU threw a wrench in your whole life, but for some reason, you couldn’t be mad at them for it. JJ was like the sister you never had- the two of you were immediately connected and you didn’t want to lose her. Garcia was the hilarious and beautiful best friend you had always needed in your life, always ready to lighten the mood. Hotch, stern as he could be, was a compassionate leader and you were so glad the team had him. Morgan was protective and so sweet- even just knowing you for a short period of time, he had nothing to offer but kindness. Prentiss was smart as a whip and loved to tease you and Spence, but you wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. Through your savored but limited interactions with Rossi, you could tell he was a father figure for the team. This was a bit of a sore spot with you, but you hoped you could get closer with him over time. And Spencer. He was so frustratingly great. Great at his job, great at making you feel safe, great at… well… everything. You felt so lucky to know all these people and bond with them, you almost forgot your frustrations with them. But, after all, they were the professionals. If it came down to it, you would try to vouch for Matt but if they suspected him, you would trust their instincts.

You removed yourself from your thoughts and were about to make your way back inside when you heard quick footsteps from behind you and a sharp pain on the back of your skull before it all went black.

-

Inside the station, the team continued their conversation about the case. Spencer, however, was pacing around the conference room worried that he just screwed up what you two had going. Rossi excused himself from the team and walked over to Spence to put a calming hand on his shoulder.

“Go. Make sure she’s okay, we can handle this,” he told him, and that’s all it took for Spencer to bolt out of the room and out of the station. Looking around, his heart dropped when he didn’t see you. He tried calling your name a few times but he was received without a response. That's when the panic began to set in. He sprinted back inside the station and ran to the team, face red and panting.

“She’s gone.”

-

You woke up in an empty room, seated in a chair with your arms strapped behind you while your legs were tied together. Looking up you could see a tripod with a camera, filming your every move. Things began to make sense- the unsub had finally tracked your whereabouts and had taken you hostage. You couldn’t help but let out a dry laugh at the circumstances. You had thrown away your life just because you were upset about an assumption a trained team of professionals made. You had thrown away the life that you had worked so hard to want. Your father's passing had left you in a terrible place where your mind wandered to the unthinkable. These thoughts were something you had struggled with your whole life. You never planned on actually taking your life, but some mornings you were disappointed to wake up. It wasn’t until recently that you regained the will to take advantage of what life had to offer. Your passion for theatre was reignited and you met an amazing group of people- a group that you weren’t ready to say goodbye to yet. You were shaken from your thoughts when you noticed a shadowy figure enter the room from the door opposite of you- this figure was familiar, one you recognized. 

“Matt?”

-

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[danganronpa-21]

Naegiri Week Day 6 - Date

I did it!! I know I’m pretty late, but hey, Eon said submissions still count so I’m still going lol (thank you for the patience). This one’s a bit on the longer side and contains switching POVs, but it’s pretty easy to follow as each first line introduces either Makoto or Kyoko by name. I’ve been agonizing over it for awhile now, so hopefully you get some enjoyment out of it. If not, at least take some pleasure in the fact that I had to edit out some of my use of the word “smile” from the original draft, for I used the word 13 separate times. This is why we draft, kids. Anyway, no warnings to issue this time around.

I’ll be back to bring you Festival sometime soon. Thanks so much for your support and attention!

______________

“I’m excited for our big night tonight, Kyoko!”

Her partner’s words echoed like a horrid earworm in her mind as she jotted down her most recent case notes. They’d been vibrating around in her head since the moment he uttered them; they plagued her all throughout the car ride to the Hope’s Peak building. Even now, while he was off dealing with a misbehaving teacher case, she could not get his statement to stop pestering her. She had to be the worst girlfriend in the world to have forgotten something so important as to be classified as “big night”. Simply imagining the disappointment on Makoto’s face if she confessed to not knowing the significance of the date made her heart drop. She was never the best at remembering anniversaries and birthdays without much of a reminder; her schedule was far too busy to help her recall every significant thing. What was peculiar about this situation was that Kyoko didn’t even have the benefit of being able to check her schedule. Normally, she marked off all of their important relationship milestones on their calendar so she wouldn’t forget… but for whatever reason, today’s date wasn’t in there. No red ink scribbling circles around sloppily scrawled words, no little star stickers that her boyfriend got her into the habit of using. Just a dotting of blue ink to tell her that she had a dentist appointment the following day. Her past self refused to even give an inkling of a hint.

 Still, if there was one thing that Kyoko knew best about herself, it was that she was stubborn. A stubborn detective, at that! There was no way that she would allow herself to be bested by a simple mystery such as this. If she didn’t have any clues of her own to work with, she’d just have to start off somewhere else. Of course, what else was better to start off with than witnesses? That was how Aoi came into the picture.

Well, it would be, if she weren’t several minutes late. The tardiness was admittedly a bit strange given that she had a free period, but it wasn’t super out of character for Aoi. She tended to get so excited and ahead of herself that sometimes she would almost miss work meetings entirely. Kyoko couldn’t count the number of times on both hands that she’d come rushing in to a staff meeting over twenty minutes late. All she hoped was that she would get there sooner than Makoto would get back. To have him catch them in the middle of this discussion could be mortifying. She feared she might break his heart if she let him know that she forgot. A quick and easy bit of advice or clues from Aoi would really be ideal.

 She massaged her temples with one hand and leaned over to poke her phone awake with the other. 9:03 A.M. Aoi was officially thirteen minutes late, and in all honesty, Kyoko wondered if she should start to worry. What if Makoto had intercepted her or something? Or was she perhaps the troublesome teacher he intended to deal with? The latter seemed unlikely, but she didn’t want to rule out any possibilities. Ugh, all of this would be so much easier if she knew what Makoto had been alluding to in the first place! If it hadn’t been for Aoi arriving almost as if she were on cue, Kyoko might have given into her desire to bash her head into the desk.

 “Sorry I’m late, Kyoko!” The swimmer’s voice was just as chipper as ever, and her forehead just as sweaty. Did her morning jog run long or something? “I got a little caught up. You know how it is.”

 Kyoko sighed, doing her best to pretend to be less disgruntled than she actually was. “Indeed, I do. Still, I should thank you for coming on such short notice.”

 Aoi’s ponytail swung back and forth as she strutted to the seat across from Kyoko and plopped herself down; the manner of it all reminded her of being told to sit more lady-like by her grandfather. She tried not to scowl at the thought of him. They had been through a bit of a rough patch lately. “Of course! Anything to help one of my favourite girls.”

 The taller woman laughed softly, reaching up to brush some stray hands of hair away from her face. “I am quite glad to hear you say that, Asahina-san. You see, I have something to ask you.”

 Almost instantly, Aoi folded her arms across her chest. She turned her nose up at the detective jokingly. “You may not ask me anything unless you call me by first name. You know that’s okay!”

 She let out a half-amused sigh and did her best not to show her pleasure on her face. “Aoi, if I ask you something, do you promise not to tell Makoto that I asked?”

 Aoi’s eyes widened; her body suddenly shot forward with interest. Normally, one might have reacted with a bit of apprehension over being asked to keep a secret from their friend’s paramour, but Aoi seemed to relish it. The smile that spread across her face all but proved it. Figures. Aoi probably expected to be asked about what he was thinking of doing for their next date night or something cute like that. “Ooh! What’s going on? What do you wanna know?”

 In any other situation, there would be lots Kyoko could ask. After all, Aoi was their one friend who was not only mutual, but a confidant. She wouldn’t be able to get the same information out of Yasuhiro and Toko that she could out of Aoi, and it was vice versa for Makoto. This wasn’t to say that she begged Aoi to regularly break Makoto’s trust, or that he did anything of that sort to her – it was just that the swimmer could tend to point either of them in the right direction. When Makoto struggled to ask Kyoko for a birthday present, he would tell Aoi and eventually she would tell Kyoko what he wanted. When Kyoko was too embarrassed to confess to her feelings to Makoto’s face, she would tell Aoi and she would encourage Makoto to move in the right direction to get her to open up. It definitely wasn’t a system of broken trust, but a little one that worked for them and kept things moving to their advantage. They could function without Aoi if they wanted to, but she enjoyed helping them along. She was perhaps the person most invested in their relationship apart from themselves… and maybe Komaru.

 Kyoko drummed her fingers on the desk absent-mindedly; somehow she found she would rather watch herself move than make eye contact with her friend. It must have something to do with her embarrassment over the whole not knowing the day thing, she assumed. “Aoi… do you know why today is significant in mine and Makoto’s relationship?”

 Aoi blinked, pressing a finger to her lower lip. “Ummm… no. Why is it significant? Did I miss something?”

 “It is not a rhetorical question. I am genuinely asking. Makoto asked me if I was excited for our special night this morning, and I haven’t the faintest idea what he meant.”

 “Oh! Uhhh…” the cogs in her mind seemed to turn slowly; her gaze darting around the room as if she would somehow find the answer there. It was such an artificial-looking thinking process, yet Kyoko found herself holding her breath as she awaited a response. “I… I dunno. He didn’t mention anything to me about tonight being special.”

 Kyoko let out a groan, throwing her head into her hands. “What am I going to do?! He’s expecting a perfect night, and I don’t have anything planned.”

 “Maybe… um…” she paused for but a second, “Throw on some lingerie and hope for the best?”

 The detective scowled at her. “Very funny. You know he and I aren’t… physically intimate.”

 “Aww, c’mon Kyoko-chan, don’t feel bad,” Aoi said, her arm darting across the desk to pry at Kyoko’s wrist, “I’m sure there’s gotta be someone who knows what Makoto’s all excited about.”

 “What if there isn’t? The last thing I want to do is hurt Makoto’s feelings. I cannot afford to make such a careless mistake.”

 “Well how do you know that it was you who made the mistake? Maybe he forgot what day it is, not you!”

 Somehow, that didn’t lift Kyoko’s spirits. Mostly because of how improbable it sounded. While Makoto tended to forget more trivial matters like whose turn it was to do the dishes, he never forgot important dates. Especially not when it came to their relationship. Based on what Aoi told her, he bought most of his anniversary and birthday gifts for her over three weeks in advance. Preparedness when it came to their relationship seemed to be his strong suit, quite unlike her. Without anything to show for the upcoming night, she would look like a selfish girlfriend.

 “While I respect that you are trying to cheer me up, Asahina-san, I seriously doubt that that’s the case. You know just as well as I do how diligent he is when it comes to our relationship,” her fingers somehow worked their way back to her temples, massaging them almost aggressively, “If anyone has forgotten anything, it is most certainly me.”

 Aoi’s eyes glittered with sympathy as she watched her friend, still trying to hold her arm. Kyoko imagined that she was mostly trying to pat her forearm, but had somehow settled for gripping her awkwardly. It was less comforting and more like she’d been caught in a trap; nevertheless, she decided to appreciate the sentiment behind it. “Please don’t be too hard on yourself, Kyoko-chan. Naegi-kun wouldn’t want you to do that, even if you forgot. I’m sure he’ll understand. He’s super sweet like that!”

 That is true, Kyoko thought to herself. If anything, Makoto would find it within himself to understand her perspective. Work had been incredibly busy for both of them lately, and they did have a lot of other friendship and familial obligations to attend to… Would it truly be so awful for her to have forgotten one measly little date? She couldn’t have the answer to that question. Nobody could. There were only so many circumstances in which that things could work out for her, and it all depended on how much value the date held. If it was something huge, like an anniversary, she would never forgive herself – even if Makoto did. However, should it have been something small, she figured that they would be able to brush it off and at least try to have a good time. Value determined everything, and of course it was on the list of things she didn’t know. All she had as a clue was that the date was special somehow.

 “I appreciate the optimism, but I just don’t think I can go through the rest of today without knowing what’s going on.” She sighed, doing her best to avoid pouting like a spoiled child. While there were several things that she would confess to hating, not knowing important things hung at the top. Probably somewhere around number two on her list of hated things, coming just below coriander. Blegh. “Is there anything else I can do to figure this out?”

 Aoi shrugged, still wearing that same signature smile of hers. “Why not try asking some of the others? Komaru-chan should be in helping Fukawa-san, maybe you could ask her for help. She’s his little sister, after all!” The swimmer tapped her chin. “I guess you could try Togami-kun, too, but I don’t know how nice he would be about it. I know you guys kind of like to rib each other.”

 ‘Like to rib each other’ was a sugar coating of the truth, but Kyoko supposed it encapsulated their relationship nonetheless. Byakuya was admittedly the last person she wanted to go to for help with this Makoto situation, yet the difficulty of it all gave her little choice in the matter. In fact, she considered it to be completely unavoidable.

 “I suppose you’re right there. I’ll see about talking to Komaru-chan about it first. If that fails,” one of her hands curled into a fist, “I will bite the bullet and confront Byakuya.”

 Aoi giggled softly, finally releasing Kyoko’s arm and hopping to her feet. “That’s the spirit! Now, was that all you needed, Boss?”

 For her friend’s sake, Kyoko did her best to grin a little. Though she herself hadn’t been able to help, Aoi provided her own information that would make this anxiety-inducing task much easier. Kyoko surely owed her for that. “Yes. Sorry to call you into my office for so little, but I was getting restless. Is there any way I can compensate you for your troubles?”

 Aoi waved it off. “Don’t be silly, Kyoko-chan! We’re friends, I’m here to help you any time you need it,” amusement tugged at her lips, “That being said, though… if you have to compensate me… mind buying me a donut on your next coffee run?”

 Kyoko shook her head, trying not to show how much Aoi’s request made her laugh. Of course she’d ask for a donut. “That is… doable, yes. I presume you want the Boston Kreme again?”

 The swimmer’s face lit up with glee, her hands clapping together excitedly. “Oh god, please. I haven’t had one in soooo long. They’re so yummy.”

 Kyoko could agree with that statement. It hadn’t been until her time in Hope’s Peak that she first tried a Boston Kreme donut, but she found it to be quite a hit on her tastebuds. Definitely on her list of favourites, and Aoi’s too. The girl once joked that that was how she knew that they would be good friends. “Sounds good to me. You are dismissed, Aoi-chan. Have a good day.”

 “Thanks, Kyoko-chan! You too!”

 With that, the swimmer spun on her heel and wandered towards the door, sending herself off with a wave to her friend before closing the door behind her. God, what relief Aoi’s presence had been. Of course, Kyoko could only notice it now that she had left. Stress settled back into her the moment she departed, bearing down on her like a blue whale. Though she knew she still had the hope of Komaru and Byakuya’s assistance, doubt sprouted in her heart. What if they couldn’t help her? Oh, what would she do?

 She squeezed her eyes shut. The absolute last thing she wanted to think about the way Makoto would look when she eventually confessed to being clueless. His normally chipper expression would still remain on his face, but she would see it falter. The corners of his mouth would twitch down for a split second, the joy weakening without actually ever having to disappear. His shoulders would slump, and he would move to push a hand through his hair to make things seem more casual. He would want to show her that he was more relaxed about it than he actually was. She would be able to see the hurt cloud his eyes.

 Ugh. She didn’t want to think about that. Stealing one last long look at her paperwork, she sighed and pushed herself to her feet. If she was going to avoid the terrible, horrible fate of disappointing her boyfriend, she had better get a move on in talking to Komaru and Byakuya. The guidance committee’s not-as-problematic-as-stated student situation would have to wait.

 __________

 Makoto would be lying if he said he wasn’t worried about his fiancée.

 He hadn’t been, when he’d woken up this morning. In fact, he’d been pretty excited to spend the day with her. The two of them planned this day for ages. From the blankets they would snuggle up with to the snacks they would eat, the couple made sure everything had its place. Makoto even promised her he’d make his famous popcorn-chocolate-marshmallow bars. It was tradition for their Dead Trial marathons, after all. Kyoko tended to say that it wouldn’t have felt like a proper marathon without them. Good snacks and cozy blankets were the best thing for a day inside watching their favourite show. All they had to do was get through their long day of work. That was how it seemed at the time, anyway. Now, Makoto didn’t feel so sure.

  Kyoko’s morning demeanour changed within an instant; the moment he made mention of the day caught her in a loop of seeming unease. Her expression crumpled, falling back into its neutrality. How funny, so many years ago he would never have seen her iron mask as a sign of worry. Just a sign of Kyoko being Kyoko. These days, though, he knew better than to think that. Any emotion she gave him would be better than the cold, hard stare. The mask hid fear, the face showed affection.

  His fingers tapped on the surface of the window ledge; eyes fixed intently on the world outside. He could see two students, both girls, hanging out around the fountain on what he presumed to be a date. One with black hair and the other with brown, grinning and giggling together. The dark-haired girl was trying to feed the other a spicy tuna roll, but it dropped from her chopsticks and bounced into the fountain. Her date threw her head back laughing at how clumsy the dark-haired girl was, forcing her face to turn rose-red. At any other time, he was sure he would have felt happy for them. Even if they were skipping class to have quality time, sometimes good romance was worth that kind of thing.

 He couldn’t deny that the sight of the girls made him think of Kyoko. At the end of everything, he hoped that the two of them would have a night like those two students were having. His heart ached at the image of the two of them sitting there, a foot apart and not touching at all. No blankets draped over them, no snacks placed in their laps, no emotion as they tried to enjoy their show. He would reach for his partner’s hand but she would scarcely respond, just staring almost blankly at the screen in front of her. Her leg would be bouncing up and down like a basketball, but when he asked, she would deny being nervous. It would be a torturous, awful night; neither of them would enjoy it the way they thought they would. Then, the two of them would creep off to bed, and she would sleep with her back turned to him. She wouldn’t even try to cuddle up in his arms like she usually did.

 His gaze flicked down to his watch. 11:49, it read. His little sister was running late. She had sent him a text asking to meet him outside of classroom 8-B, and somehow had not made a point of being there on time herself. He didn’t think it was too much to expect, given that she had been the one to ask that they meet in the first place. In some sense, he shouldn’t have been surprised. It was quite like Komaru to be flaky. Makoto loved his younger sister, he really did, but sometimes the girl was just trouble. 

 He let out a sigh as he watched the girls pluck the roll out of the fountain’s water, the sunlight beaming brightly on their smiling faces. He leaned on his hand, silently wishing he could be as carefree as they were. The headmaster was leagues away from being a high schooler, but when relationship communication issues like this happened, he felt like he was right back in it again. At the end of the day, he just hoped nothing was seriously wrong with Kyoko. He hated to think that something might be wrong, and she just hadn’t had the courage to tell him.

 “Hey! Makoto!”

 Finally. Komaru’s voice snapped him out of his worries as he turned his head to look at her coming down the hall. She held a stack of paper in her arms, and her hands were brutally smudged with ink. A pair of glasses rested on her nose. Figures. She asked him to meet her, and then got caught up in drawing her manga. That was so like her. Still, he pushed down his annoyance, cracking a small smile as he made eye contact with his baby sister.

 “Hey, Komaru,” he greeted, his hands resting on his hips, “I see you’re running late, as always.”

 Komaru’s tongue found its way out of her mouth before her words did. “I see you’re still a jerk, as always,” she huffed, quickly putting her flustered run into a full stop, “Thank you for coming, though.”

 “You’re more than welcome. You said there was something you wanted to talk to me about?” 

 Komaru’s fingers reached up to scratch at her cheek, the smile playing at her lips turning sheepish. Whatever she would say next, he knew he probably would not like it. It was all a sign that Komaru had either already made or intended to make trouble. Trouble that he would likely have to clean up, he might add. 

 “Okay, so like… I know you’ve told me before that you really don’t want me to meddle in your relationship with Kyoko-” 

 Makoto closed his eyes, the tips of his fingers digging in to his hips in an attempt to quell his frustration. “I don’t, and I really hope you’re about to tell me that you haven’t.”

The smile grew even more sheepish, prompting Makoto to groan. His palm hit his forehead before he even thought to make the motion himself. Why did she have to do this to him? Why couldn’t she just pretend to vomit every time they kissed, like a normal younger sister? 

 “Okay so like… I didn’t totally ruin anything or tell her anything bad, but she did come to me asking for advice on something,” Komaru confessed, shrugging her shoulders, “And I thought you should know that she’s worried about something.”

 “Do you know what it is?” He asked immediately, his eyes widening a bit. God, he hoped she came to tell him what Kyoko was worried about. It would make things so much easier for them. After all, if Kyoko wouldn’t tell him why she was acting weird, and he didn’t know, then Komaru would be the only bridge between the two of them. It wasn’t like Aoi had had anything to say when he’d initially asked her. He was running out of options.

 Komaru tittered awkwardly, clutching her inked papers a little more tightly. One could only hope that the ink was not fresh, lest it stain her suit jacket. It was pressed far too close to her body. “You see, about that, I do, but-”

 He blinked quickly, taking a few steps forward. Whatever it was, he needed to know, and he needed to know it well. “What is it?”

 She actually cringed as she spoke, wincing like she thought that her brother was going to smack her. “She told me I wasn’t allowed to tell you.”

 He hit the window ledge with his hand, wincing as pain shot through it. Maybe not the best idea, but dammit, he was pissed off. How could she give him a flicker of hope, only to take it away a minute later? That was just too cruel. “Ugh! Why would you say anything if you knew I wasn’t supposed to know?”

 “I came to give you a hint to point you in the right direction,” she whined, stomping her foot like it was their mother scolding her rather than him, “She said I can’t tell you, but I figured you had a right to know.” 

 He swallowed thickly, the crease between his brows suddenly feeling as deep as a chasm. His body fell strangely still as he waited for Komaru’s eventual reveal. Though she couldn’t tell him much, there had to be something more to this. Surely, he could ask just a few more questions. “Is it something bad?”

 “Well, uh… hard to say. It’s nothing really bad, but it might hurt your feelings a bit.”

  To no one’s surprise, that comment did little to soothe his persisting anxieties. If anything, it planted a seed of dread in his stomach. Not only was his partner clearly hiding something from him, she was now confirmed to be hiding something that would hurt his feelings if he knew. He bit his lip. 

 “How badly, do you think?” His voice left so much weaker than usual; the ache of what Kyoko hid from him this morning digging into his soul. If he thought his palms were sweaty before, they had gained some wetness now. “Like, do you think she’s gonna dump me?”

 Komaru shook her head frantically. “Definitely not. In fact, part of the reason why she’s upset is because she likes you so much. That’s the way it seemed, anyway.”

 Makoto sighed, his hand reaching to fidget with his watch. “Are you sure you can’t just tell me what it is and I’ll pretend to be surprised if she brings it up?” 

 “Sorry, big bro. No can do. We both know you’re an awful actor.” A twinge of a smirk pricked her face. “Still, try not to worry too much. I think you’ll be able to get it out of her eventually, she’s just… worried about it, that’s all. I didn’t want you to get too in over your head if you could avoid it.”

 “I appreciate that, Komaru. Thank you.” He paused. “Is there anything else you needed to tell me?”

 “Just that you’re a nerd.”

 “Oh, come on! What are you, eleven?”

 “Yeah, an eleven out of ten!” She exclaimed with a snort, incredibly pleased with what was at best a mediocre joke.

 Makoto rolled his eyes at his little sister. “It’s like you never left middle school.”

 __________

 Kyoko wanted nothing more than to repeatedly slam her head into a wall. Step one of her plan, gathering witnesses, had proven itself to be a total bust. Not only had she completely missed with Komaru, who had no idea what she was talking about — but she’d been screwed over with Byakuya, too. He had given her no clear answers about the date, and the jerk actually laughed at her when she confessed to not knowing the significance. Clearly, he wanted to take it as some victory to hold over her head. Proof of his superiority to her or something like that. She honestly didn’t know, and could not bring herself to care. She’d left his office in more than a bit of a huff, plunking herself down in her own chair much too harshly when she finally got back to her own space. It left her with a deep hole of disappointment in her stomach; one that she suppressed all afternoon as she plunged back into her paperwork. She stayed that way until lunchtime, the pit only serving to worsen when her boyfriend wandered in.

 “Come on, honey, you really should break for lunch,” Makoto said, shooting her that same smile that won the heart of anyone who saw it, “You’ve been at that work all day.”

 Her head flicked up from the boring scribblings of ink, eyes wide with surprise. Sure, she’d half-noticed that he entered the room, but hearing him was a completely different thing. Normally his voice and presence comforted her; it took weight off her shoulders on hard days. Today, on the other hand, made hearing it seem like she was getting smacked in the face with a tennis racket — vaguely painful and incredibly startling.

 “Oh,” she paused, blinking at him as if she didn’t quite believe he was real, “That time already, huh?”

 The luckster nodded cheerfully, glancing down at the two sleek black boxes he held in his arms. They were stacked one on top of the other, one marked with her initials and the other with his. Same as always, made as sweetly as always. She swallowed hard. Why did he have to be the perfect partner? It would certainly make her mess-ups a little easier to deal with if he would just screw up every once in a while. If he could just screw up majorly on something for once, it would be helpful.

 “Yup! Can’t say I blame you for forgetting, though. You almost forgot your lunch at home. Pretty hard to remember to eat without your food, y’know?” 

 Yes, her forgetting made sense. After Makoto brought up the big night, she lost all focus. From then on, all energy went into agonizing over what she’d been unable to recall. She must have left her bento sitting right on the counter, where he always put it after finishing the preparations. 

  Kyoko smiled sheepishly. “Sorry. I guess it must have slipped my mind, with our big night and all,” it was a ploy for hints, and she wondered if it would work, “I was reviewing our plans so much that I didn’t even think about grabbing it.”

 To this, Makoto laughed. “Ever diligent, as always. I hadn’t realized that you had so many plans for it! Actually, that reminds me of something.”

 “Oh?” Kyoko feigned innocence, batting her eyelashes at him. “What is it?”

 “I was thinking that it might be a good idea to head to the store after work to pick up some stuff for tonight.” 

 “What kind of stuff?” She asked, knowing that the question would give her a little more without entirely selling her out to him. Minute by minute, she inched closer to figuring this out, and she couldn’t be more thrilled. Relief would wash over her in no time, if he would just be a good witness and comply.

 “You know, the usual for the night.” He answered with a shrug, pulling his phone out of his pocket. She could only presume that he was verifying his list. Oh, how she longed to snatch the phone out of his hands and read it all for herself. It was almost as if he was deliberately being cryptic. Her boyfriend was a wiggly salamander trying to slip out of her grasp. “I was thinking about picking up some ice cream for dessert, but I don’t know what flavour I should get.”

 Aha! A clue! A cryptic one, but still, it was a clue nevertheless. She fought off the urge to scribble it down on the precious paperwork she’d been buried in only a moment prior. A good detective should be able to commit such a fact to memory with ease, her grandfather told her once. Though she hated thinking about him, she supposed that he was right, especially considering the person she was interrogating was standing right in front of her.  

 “I’m sure that I could help you with that,” she giggled, giddy from having found a small clue, “I promise not to get stuck between black cherry and pralines and cream like I did last time.” 

 Makoto shook his head, grinning over the memory. The two of them must have spent an half an hour in that grocery store, bouncing between the pros and cons of each flavour. They had only been intending to pick it up for a simple treat night, yet Kyoko found herself paralyzed by indecision. The two of them had had such a horribly long day at that point, and she’d just wanted to settle down with the perfect ice cream. God, she would kill to have a night like that again. If she ever figured out what their plans were for their special night, she didn’t know if she could enjoy them. After all, she’d expended so much energy on figuring out what the plans would be that she might run out of energy before they even got there. 

 “I think you probably could, yeah. I’ll meet you here after school; is three-thirtyish okay?” 

 She nodded. “Sounds perfect.”

 “Great! Now that that’s settled, though… wanna go have a picnic in the Garden of Statues?”

 That had been where they left it in the office that day, a spark of hope bursting in Kyoko’s chest. Though she hadn’t been able to solve her boyfriend’s surprisingly difficult riddle right then, she was confident that she would be hot on its trail soon. She spent most of the rest of the day scribbling away at her paperwork until he came to meet her at three thirty-two. The couple were a pair of beaming faces, the two of them wandering into the nearest pharmacy/retail store in search of whatever goodies Makoto had on his list. Not that Kyoko knew what they were. In all honesty, she was a little surprised that that was even the place he wanted to go. Still, she appreciated the tip-off that it was not the most formal evening the two of them had ever had. Every hint was one she grabbed at with fervour. At this point, she needed every one she could get. The sand in the hourglass was running low.

 Even with the confirmation of the lack of formality, everything he had put in their box didn’t make sense. Salted caramel popcorn, shampoo, sponges, marshmallows, hand soap, tortilla chips, razor blades, hiyoko cakes, headache pills, chocolate, medicinal tea blends, calbee shrimp snacks, pretzels, wasabi peas, tissues… None of these things made any sense together. Separate the snacks from the household items and then maybe one could get something, but Makoto stated specifically that he was buying for their evening. Kyoko pressed her lips together, wondering whether he was just feeling snackish or if he genuinely needed these things. Part of her itched to ask him, but she worried that even that might blow her cover. Instead, she chose to quietly follow behind him, watching him continue to pluck things off the shelves. 

 “Is there anything you want apart from the ice cream, Kiri?” Makoto questioned, not meeting her gaze as his hands found a bag of pizza potato chips. Her tongue stuck out at the thought of them. They were his favourite flavour of chips, but she couldn’t stand them. Of course, it didn’t bother him any. He didn’t have to share. “You can have whatever you want. Sky’s the limit tonight!” 

 She forced herself to grin half-heartedly; the muscles in her face protested from the extra effort it took. She hoped he didn’t notice her picking at the studs of her gloves like they were a scab she could remove. “I don’t think there’s anything else I want. You go ahead and pick out whatever you would like.”

 It was only then that he twisted his head to look back at her, one eyebrow raised. Uh-oh, she thought. Must have awoken suspicion in him. “Are you sure?” 

 She nodded. “Positive. Go right on ahead.” 

 A frown carved its way into his expression. For a moment he opened his mouth as if he were going to say something, and then closed it just as promptly. He turned back towards their box and rearranged a few things as if nothing was wrong. That alone was enough to make her heart beat faster, and her breathing grow heavy. With how things were progressing, she risked actually managing to tear the silver studs from her gloves. 

 The silence persisted between the two of them for about a minute or so after Makoto rearranged their items; they wandered down a few more aisles before finally stopping in front of the frozen foods. Shivers shot through Kyoko as they walked. Unfortunately, her pencil skirt left her legs susceptible to the frigid air exuding off the freezers. She pushed herself up against him without thinking, hoping the proximity would allow her to thieve some of his warmth. 

 “Feeling a little chilly, Kyoko?” He snickered. 

 She nuzzled his shoulder. “It’s cold here.”

 He smirked slightly, pressing an awkward kiss to the side of her head. “I know, it is pretty cold. We should be out of here soon enough, though. Just as soon as you decide what ice cream you want…!”

 She groaned, slapping a hand to her forehead.

 “You promised you’d help me pick.”

 The detective only grumbled in response, stopping to turn to look at her options through the glass door. Her eyes scanned the shelves for anything that grabbed her, not taking notice of the way her partner was watching her as she worked. Her lips pursed as she searched, wondering if any of them were going to jump out at her. Bubblegum, vanilla, strawberry, coconut almond, triple chocolate, green tea, lemon custard…

 “Kyoko, are you okay?”

 ____________________________

 Okay, Makoto gulped to himself. The million-dollar question is out. 

 She turned to look at him, her brows knitted in confusion at the question. Her eyes seemed to be scrutinizing his face, drinking in every last detail. How funny it was that the two of them were spending so much time observing each other to excessive degrees. “What do you mean?” 

 “You’ve been acting weird since this morning,” he admitted, shrugging his shoulders, “It’s like you’ve been on and off perfectly normal, and then really frustrated. Some of the others noticed it at work today, too. Komaru was pretty worried about you. She said you asked to talk to her about something and seemed flustered. Said she couldn’t tell me exactly what happened, but that you were worried about hurting my feelings. Is something going on?”

 His partner cursed under her breath, and for a second he thought he’d heard his little sister’s name thrown somewhere in there. She began to nibble on her lip anxiously, her gaze darting away from him. He probably shouldn’t have brought up that he spoke to Komaru at all.

 “Did I do something, Kyoko?” 

 A balloon of pressure built inside of him as he stood there waiting for her response. His heartbeat danced in his throat. Whatever was wrong with his girlfriend, he was sure that they could manage to get through it, but only if they communicated. Otherwise, they risked never being able to find the right pieces to reach their happiness. Then where would they be?

 “It’s…” 

 “It’s…?” He parroted, reaching out to grab her hand. She moved it away from him almost like she was flinching, sending a pang of sadness through his heart. He really hoped this wasn’t going where Komaru said it wouldn’t.

 “It’s not something you did, Makoto, I just…”

 His hand moved to rest on her arm, at the very least. Though he didn’t feel he had the energy within him to do so, he cracked a small grin. “Whatever it is, you can tell me. We’re a team. We’ve got to work through this stuff together, you know?” 

 Kyoko’s cheeks burned like brand-new Christmas lights, her gaze still fixated anywhere else but his face. Her words seemed to catch in her throat as she uttered them, somehow too embarrassed to speak her mind. “Do you promise me that you won’t be upset if I tell you the truth?” 

 Oh no. Fear settled into him faster than he thought possible. She wasn’t going to confess to having done something totally wild, was she? She hadn’t grown bored of him, or decided she’d be happier with a smarter, better-looking man? He didn’t think crushing his heart in public was anywhere within her character, but she’d surprised him before. Sweat dewed on his palms; he wiped it off on his work pants as best he could. “Uh… I’d like to think I could do that for you, yeah,” he replied, cringing at his anxiety showing in his voice, “So long as you didn’t like… I don’t know, plan to murder me and then decide last minute you didn’t want to go through with it.”

 It was a bit of a joke, but neither of them laughed. Not that it mattered. He got the feeling that the two of them just wanted her to spit out her confession already. 

 “It’s nothing like that, I just…” Kyoko’s hands curled into her fists, her eyes squeezing themselves shut. “Makoto, you were saying this morning that today is such a special day, and that you were really excited about what was going to happen… but I don’t remember why today is important.”

 The murmuring of “oh” came out of his mouth before he could process it, blinking slowly as the cogs turned in his mind. So his girlfriend wasn’t mad at him, nor was she leaving him for a superior specimen? She was just… feeling ashamed because of a mistake? Because she hadn’t remembered why the day was important? She crossed her arms over herself for protection, not realizing that a relieved laugh brewed in his chest. Oh, how he’d worried over nothing! He found himself grinning within seconds. Without thinking, he leaned over and pressed another kiss against her forehead.

 “Oh, Kyoko. Have you been beating yourself up about this all day?”

 “I’m sorry. I’m a horrible girlfriend.”

 He laughed and shook his head, giving her arm a supportive squeeze. “No, you’re not!”

 “Yes, I am. I completely forgot everything that’s supposed to be important about today, and I tried to ask Aoi, Komaru, and Togami-kun to get them to tell me, but they didn’t know either. I thought maybe by coming here with you and seeing what you were buying would give me some clues as to what our plans are, but I’m just more confused. Half of these are snacks, and the other half are just random items,” she reached into the box and pulled out a container of shampoo, “Seriously. What does this have to do with tonight?” 

 He chuckled awkwardly. “It doesn’t have anything to do with tonight. We just needed more shampoo. Same thing with the hand soap and sponges and all that. Picking up the snacks was the main goal. I’m going to make those caramel popcorn bars for us to eat, and it’s been awhile since we had hiyoko cakes, and you asked me for nachos when we first planned tonight…” 

 “But you only ever make the popcorn bars when we have Dead Trial marathons...” She muttered, her eyes suddenly lighting up like she’d struck a match. To his surprise, she actually gasped, taking hold of his arm. They must have looked so silly, grasping onto each other like that. “The new season gets uploaded to Flickies tonight, doesn’t it?! Is that why today is special?”

 Finally, he let himself have a full, hearty laugh. “Yeah! Since you’ve been so busy lately, I figured you must have been holding out for it and doing all that work to make sure you could enjoy yourself once it got uploaded. I didn’t realize you’d forgotten about it entirely.”

 “So I’m not a terrible girlfriend?”

 “Far from it! Just a girlfriend who worked so hard that she forgot about a special TV bingeing night.” 

 She exhaled with relief, her hand hitting her chest. “I’m so glad.” 

 “You must have been really worried, huh?”

 “Of course I was,” she murmured, rubbing his arm in what he assumed was supposed to be some form of affection, “I was certain that I would be hurting your feelings by forgetting, and I’m sure you know that that is the last thing I would ever want to do.”

 “Yeah, I know. Still, Kyoko, I promise I wouldn’t be mad at you if you really had forgotten something important. I know you’ve got a lot on your mind most of the time, and you’re only human. Anybody’s bound to forget stuff. It’s just how people work.”

 She blinked softly at him, staring up at him with the most loving gaze that he’d ever received from him. It was as if he could see the stars in her eyes. “Really?”

 “Of course,” he assured her, “I don’t need you to remember every little thing to know you love me.”

 She sighed, throwing her arms around him and pulling him into a hug. Makoto’s heart began to beat faster as she pressed her face into his shoulder, snuggling in close. He couldn’t stop himself from breathing in her sweet smell, enjoying the cherry blossom-scent. “You’re too nice to me, Makoto, you know that?”

 “Well, you deserve it.” He murmured, holding her as tightly as he could manage. It felt so good to be in her arms.

 Kyoko snickered. “You’re such a flatterer.”

[stormkrigeren]

Whumptober Day 1!

Link to the Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34210837/chapters/85120435

Title: Bound - Lois

Prompt: No. 1 ‘All Trussed Up And Still Nowhere To Go’ - “You have to let go”, barbed wire, bound

Word Count: 2475

Lois preferred rope over handcuffs, and duct tape over rope. Duct tape was best because it was surprisingly easy to break, but she was rarely lucky enough to be tied up with it. Lois could tell that today wasn’t her lucky day the moment the goon wrapped a length of plastic boating rope around her wrists and yanked it tight.

She loved her job. The title of ‘investigative reporter’ practically gave her a free pass to be as nosy as she liked (and Lois was admittedly quite nosy) while also revealing the truth on a variety of issues, affairs, and dealings. No one would blink twice if she walked into a warzone or gang territory or some crooked mogul’s office with a pen handy and far too many questions in her head, and no one was surprised when her life was threatened only for her to diffuse the situation a few minutes later. That was just how Lois worked, and she loved it.

The one and only issue with her job was the fact that if her life wasn’t being threatened, her freedom probably was. Sometimes it would just be a threat to get her so discredited that no one would ever publish her works again, removing her freedom of speech, but Lois was good at her job and no one ever found anything to discredit her on. So more often than not whatever fraudulent idiot she had revealed that day would instead tie her up and leave her in a warehouse somewhere until either the police or her boss showed up with a ransom because investigative reporters, especially ones named Lois Lane, were surprisingly valuable (the highest number she’d ever heard was close to a million, which of course didn’t pan out, but it was interesting to think about).

Today had started out pretty normally - Lois had woken up, gotten ready for the day, and taken the subway to work like she usually did. Upon arriving at the Daily Planet’s Head Offices in the Upper East Side of the city, she had clocked in and gotten to her desk with the intention of kicking off the work day with a little bit of research and note-taking in preparation for her interview with some S.T.A.R Labs higher-ups that afternoon. The company had received a contract from the Department of Defense to investigate and research the Kryptonian scout ship that had crashed in downtown Metropolis and was now in government custody. Any Kryptonian 'artifacts’ found in or around the ship were catalogued by S.T.A.R Labs before being transferred to various labs and other research companies around the nation for studying, the biggest transfers usually being made to the S.T.A.R facilities in Central City and Metropolis, and third-party contractors such as Kord Industries, LexCorp, and WayneTech. The distribution of findings for individual research was all well and good, but a whistleblower had recently come to Lois with some disturbing finds: some of the artifacts, especially alien weapons, were disappearing from large shipments without a trace.

When the time of the interview drew near, Lois checked in with Perry before catching a taxi to the S.T.A.R Labs headquarters downtown. Her appointment was with a few scientists from the company’s board of directors that worked with the Kryptonian scout ship the most, and luckily for them, all three of them had enough tact to not back out of the meeting when they realized that the reporter the Daily Planet had sent over was in fact a lady on the high road to a Pulitzer Prize. A board room was procured for their usage, and Lois, being well-familiar with the drill, started her recording app, pulled out her notes, and started doing what comprised the bulk of her job as an investigative journalist: asking questions.

How was work on the Kryptonian scout ship progressing? Had any significant discoveries or breakthroughs been made so far? What sort of artifacts were they dealing with, and how did they decide which ones to distribute for outside research? Were the scout ship’s contents primarily weapons, or other items? What was the company’s response to rumors about misplaced shipments?

The scientists happily answered her questions, occasionally going off on a tangent about some discovery or the supposed usage of some unknown object but otherwise provided Lois with some pretty good fuel for her next article up until she came to the final question. All three of the researchers shifted uncomfortably in their seats and exchanged the briefest of nervous glances before Dr. Rhems, the head consultant for their Kryptonian armaments division, launched into a spiel about how their cataloguing system was infallible and they had not seen any evidence that items were missing, the rumors had to be false or else they would have known. To solidify his claim, he even offered to show her their records and prove that whatever data people were basing their opinions off of had to be wrong. Lois immediately took him up on the offer.

Taking his fellow scientists’ leave, Dr. Rhems led her through the building before finally stopping outside a door that supposedly led to where the Labs kept their records pertaining to the Kryptonian artifact research program.

“You have to understand, Miss Lane, that S.T.A.R Labs is not the only facility performing research on Kryptonian weaponry,” he explained as he fished a key card out of his pocket, nearly dropped it, and finally managed to tap it against the scanner beside the door, “It’s quite possible that one of the other contractors involved in the program may simply not be cataloguing their artifacts correctly-”

“They are,” Lois snapped back as she followed him through the doorway, “The issue is within your own company. The records available to the public show that half of the missing items disappear while still in your system. I know this seems a little far-fetched, Dr. Rhems, but it's looking like there are some shady dealings going on within your facility to steal Kryptonian weapons, and possibly other items, without your knowledge.”

“That’s impossible! This is one of the most secure facilities in the state, and every one of our employees has undergone rigorous background examinations. Surely this must be some sort of journalistic ploy to discredit S.T.A.R Labs, Miss Lane-”

“With all due respect, Dr. Rhems, please stop trying to dissuade me before I’ve seen your evidence against the so-called ‘rumors’. I’ll make my decision on what to tell the public once you can prove to me that the accusations aren’t true.”

Dr. Rhems paused at that, stopped in front of a laboratory workstation and glanced quickly between Lois and the racks of Kryptonian armaments on the far side of the room - apparently this lab was where they were stored for cataloging and documentation.

“Well,” the doctor said finally, “if you’re so sure you cannot be persuaded...”

The scientist tapped a button on the workstation’s keyboard and Lois distinctly heard the door behind her lock shut with a hydraulic hiss and low shunking sound. Before she even had time to turn around, Dr. Rhems was pulling what looked too much like a genuine Kryptonian sidearm for comfort out of his labcoat and levelling it at her head. There was no doubt in her mind that it was real, and Lois should know - she had used one.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Miss Lane,” Dr. Rhems confessed, “But I am going to have to ask you to comply while Caleb ties you up - don’t want you getting away before we’ve come to an agreement, you see.”

At his behest, mostly because she was unable to do otherwise with a Kryptonian sidearm pointed at her, Lois took a seat in the chair the scientist pointed to and waited in silence to see what he would do next. Dr. Rhems typed another command into the workstation console and the door unlocked to slide open just enough for a nervous-looking intern to slip inside before the door locked shut again. The young man had apparently been given orders to follow them and wait outside the lab until his boss let him in, and after a brief, curious glance in the reporter’s direction, he immediately got to the task assigned by fetching a length of plastic rope - the kind typically used for camping due to its lightweight nature - from a desk drawer and using it to tie Lois’ hands behind her back. Under Dr. Rhems supervision, he tied the knots as tight as he could before proceeding to tie her ankles to the chair legs, and though Lois hated to admit it, she was thoroughly stuck where she was.

“You can’t keep me here for long,” Lois reminded Dr. Rhems, holding back a wince when the uncomfortable cordage bit into her ankles and resisting the urge to give Caleb a solid kick to the nose went he bent down to adjust the rope, “My editor will wonder where I am if I don’t check in soon, not to mention the fact that I’m legally under the protection of both the US government and the Kryptonian remnant. I just have to scream ‘Superman’ and someone will be here within ten seconds.”

If she stated that last sentence a little louder than necessary, Dr. Rhems didn’t notice and simply cocked the blaster (improperly, Lois noted) as Caleb finished tying her up, “You won’t scream. You wouldn’t dare.”

“Maybe I will,” Lois answered, resisting the urge to smirk. Dr. Rhems apparently had enough confidence to do so himself, and shook his head self-assuredly.

“As you said earlier, Miss Lane, you should wait to hear my side of the story before forming an opinion,” he stated calmly, “Let’s start with a simple fact: alien artifacts created in and designed to be used in an environment different from Earth are a little difficult, and expensive, to maintain. Sure, the technology works here, but until we can fully understand it, we have to ensure that it does not deteriorate or lose function when not used properly. I would read you a few excerpts from my paper on the apparent bio-technological advancements in Kryptonian technology that make their mechanism borderline-organic, so simultaneously holding some level of innate intelligence or purpose but also being susceptible to deterioration if not maintained, but we don’t have time for that now.

“Without going into too much detail, S.T.A.R Labs is not getting the funding it needs from the Department of Defense. No significant advances or research is able to be done without money, Miss Lane, and we don’t have a lot of it,” Dr. Rhems continued, “The solution? Getting rid of artifacts we do not have the facilities to maintain while also making a little bit of cash - in short we’ve been selling Kryptonian technology to foreign buyers.”

“You mean stealing and profiting off of property of the US government, not to mention that the UN is currently trying to rule both artifacts and the scout ship itself as property of the Kryptonian remnant,” Lois corrected him. Damn, she was pretty sure she was losing feeling in her hands considering how tightly the intern had bound her, but if she could just slip one hand out of the rope…

“Everyone knows the UN won’t succeed in the ruling - that technology is far too valuable to belong to a couple of do-gooder extraterrestrials,” Dr. Rhems answered, “And before you ask what I’m going to do with you or why I’ve decided to tell you all this, the answers are simple: I’m going to ransom you and get a bit of extra ‘funding’ out of it, and once your ransom has been paid and you are released, you are going to write me an article about the corruption going on in our own Department of Defense that has led to the gross underfunding of essential research facilities such as S.T.A.R Labs.”

“And just who do you think is going to pay my ransom?” Lois asked. Her plan was to keep him talking, keep his focus off her and the fact that after rubbing the skin raw and nearly spraining her wrist, she had just about managed to get her right hand out of Caleb’s tightly-but-poorly-tied attempt at binding her up. Poor kid - he hadn’t done too bad of a job considering that typing would be a pain-in-the-ass tomorrow, but it wasn’t enough to keep Lois off her game. Dr. Rhems was still going off about who he was going to call for the money for her release when she got both hands free, and right on time the thick laboratory door crumpled beneath a hand strong enough to bend steel as Superman himself stepped into the room. Lois wasted no time when the two S.T.A.R Lab scientists were distracted by his arrival, and she lunged at Dr. Rhems to knock the blaster out of his distracted grip, cock it for firing (properly, she noted), and point it at the bastard’s head.

“Well, Dr. Rhems,” she couldn’t help but announce with a smirk, “It looks like I was right about those missing shipments.”

V*V*V*V*V*V*V

It was Perry who picked her up from the S.T.A.R Labs facility after Lois was done giving her account to the police - part of her wished it had been Superman who flew her back to the Daily Planet offices, but he was still busy talking with an officer about the two scientists who had been holding Miss Lane hostage - and after a short drive back to the familiar newspaper building, it was Clark who first noticed the blisters covering her wrists and insisted on getting the first aid kit to treat them. Still, Lois ended up looking after the injuries herself, mostly because Clark, despite his kindness, strength, and adorable handsomeness, was a bit on the squeamish side and still had work to do. It wasn’t the worst she had ever dealt with - her wrists only required some antibacterial cream and bandages, whereas her left ankle had nearly been sprained when she lunged at Dr. Rhems with her feet still tied to the chair and required a bit more care in the form of an ice pack. Despite her injuries, Lois was having a pretty damn fine day - her typing skills weren’t as affected as she had imagined, her phone had still been recording throughout the whole hostage situation, and she had enough evidence pieced together to make the leading story of the evening edition. A sprained ankle and wrists that were raw as fuck after trying to wriggle her way out of plastic boating rope of all things were a small price to pay for the front page.