#too lazy fo fix them

[iamnotoriginalphil]

Hello, would you consider writing a unit chief Emily Prentiss x R story? Where reader has nipple piercings and one day at the air conditioner at the BAU breaks so readers in a tank top so the outline of them is noticeable. And of course Derek is the first to notice so he loudly points it out which draws the teams attention to them, and let’s just say Emily very intrigued with them. You could right smut for it if you want to but if not that’s okay.

The Heatwave

Words: 4.3k

Warnings: choking, daddy kink, praise kink, degradation kink, strap on, alcohol, piercings

“You can’t be serious. Thursday? In the middle of this heatwave? We’re going to die.”

Listening to Garcia complain to Morgan was not helping you concentrate on the report Emily wanted on her desk. You swiped the back of your wrist along your forehead, wiping away the sweat threatening to drip into your eye. Your hair was tied up, exposing the back of your neck, begging for a breeze to come along. You needed some sweet relief or you might collapse at your desk.

Summer was particularly brutal that year. You’d been sweating on your commute to and from the office, the air con the only thing keeping you going through the day. But yesterday there had been a weird noise, a shudder in the vents and the cold air had stopped. You weren’t you’d managed to dry out since.

Wiping more sweat away, you sighed. Your tank top was doing nothing to save you from the fires of hell licking at your skin. You groaned, head thunking against the desk.

“See? Brink of death already,” Garcia said, standing behind you.

“I’m not dead,” you said, muffled into the wood of your desk.

“Yet. I’m going to have to go flirt with the maintenance guy and he always stares because he knows that I am a prime woman that he can not keep up with,” she said.

“Of course you are, baby girl. Now go work that pretty face of yours,” Morgan said.

You sighed, sitting up again. It’s not as if you’d be getting any work done with them at your desk, and nor could you nap in the heat. Just the feeling of your skin was making you feel insane.

“When are they going to fix this damned thing?” Emily said, striding out of her office, file clutched in her hand. You felt your heart skip a beat. She was hotter than the heatwave you were going through, and even sweaty, she still made you catch your breath. It wasn’t fair how sexy she was when you were a gross mess.

“Thursday,” Garcia called over to her.

“Can’t we do something about that? she asked, striding over to the huddle that had sprung up at your desk.

“Do you want to flirt with the maintenance guy?” Garcia asked.

“The one with the lazy eye or the one who always smells like cheese?” she asked.

“That’s the same person and yes, that one,” she replied.

Emily shook her head, nose wrinkled. Garcia sighed, crossing her arms over her chest then immediately uncrossing them.

“Hey, what’s that on your chest?” Morgan asked, pointing.

You looked down, not able to see anything out the ordinary. You looked back up, finding him staring at your chest. Then it clicked. You knew he’d been too quiet, and you’d been so distracted by Emily that you hadn’t noticed.

“Are you staring at my tits?” you asked him.

“No,” he said, looking up to your eye, “yes.”

You sighed, crossing your arms over your chest, much in the way Garcia had. It only pushed your tits up, making them more obvious. Garcia was openly looking, eyebrows drawing together until realisation dawned over her face. Emily’s eyes darted down then up to your face again, tongue darting out to drag along her bottom lip. The tension that had been stretching between the two of you for weeks was making you arch your back just a little, giving her a better view.

“Not that it’s anyone’s business,” you said, trying to not get flustered from the heat in Emily’s gaze, “but I have my nipples pierced.”

You lifted your chin, waiting for one of them to say something. A grin spread over Morgan’s face and you could already hear the comments. You glared, waiting for him to say something.

“The girls like that, huh?” he asked.

“They don’t hate it,” you replied.

You couldn’t bare to look at Emily. You might implode if you did. Her reaction could either make or break your ability to think around her. Although, you were hoping she was one of the girls who didn’t hate it.

“Now, if we’re done talking about my nipples, I believe Garcia has a maintenance man to flirt with so none of us die before Thursday,” you said.

You turned back to your computer, your report waiting for you. You did your best to continue working, feeling the weight of the three people standing behind you slow to move away. You were done talking about it in front of your boss, who happened to be the one person you thought about when your fingers were buried deep within you.

“Turns out flirting with Manny in maintenance did nothing. He’s called a guy from the air conditioning company to come fix it and wouldn’t give me his number so I could flirt with him,” Garcia said, stopping by your desk, “so pool party at Rossi’s tonight. You in?”

“Does he know you’re hosting a pool party at his place?” you asked.

“Of course,” she said, “bring your best bikini.”

It was a relief to change into your bikini after work. The cool brush of air on your skin before you pulled on a pair of shorts and loose t-shirt. The air con in your car was the only thing getting you through the drive, bare thighs sticking to the leather of the seat. You parked, staring up at the big house. You jumped when someone knocked on your window.

“Hey,” you said, stepping out of your car.

“So they roped you into this too, huh?” Emily said, closing the door for you, trapping you against the car. Your eyes flicked down her body, a tank top and jeans covering whatever swimsuit she had on. You hadn’t thought about the possibility of seeing her in one when you’d agreed to come.

“Are you kidding? Free pool and free drinks? Count me in,” you said.

She chuckled, those dark eyes sweeping over you. Your skin felt on fire and you couldn’t tell if it was from the heat wave or from the sexy woman in front of you.

“Earlier, at the office,” she said, that tongue you’d dreamt about dragging along her lower lip, “when you were talking about-“

“Are you two going to stand out there all night or are you going to come get wet?”

You jumped, back hitting the side of your car as you startled. Garcia was standing in the doorway, looking at the two of you like you’d both lost your minds. You laughed, trying to cover the dirty thoughts slipping through your mind at Garcia’s words.

“Come on,” you said.

You slipped past her, body brushing against hers. Her eyes were still trained on you, sweeping over your body, and you were trying your best not to read too much into it. You combed your fingers through your hair, pulling it up into a ponytail to get it off the sticky skin of your neck. With your back to her, you missed the way Emily watched you, eyes darkening and lips pulling up into a smirk.

You were quick to pick up an ice cold beer as you passed through the kitchen, plucking it from the cooler. Derek flung his arm over your shoulders, already dripping from the pool. You wrinkled your nose, shoving his arm off you.

“What took you so long?” Morgan asked, “changing into more pool appropriate jewellery?”

“You keep that up and you’ll never get out of that pool,” you replied.

“Do you have to change them to make them pool safe?” Garcia asked.

“Change what?” Spencer asked, dipping his toe into the pool, trousers rolled up to his ankles.

“My piercings. They’re the big news of the day,” you replied, “we’re not talking about this any more.”

“But you don’t have your ears-“

You shoved Reid in the shoulder. His arms windmilled before he fell forward, a large splash going up, water landing on your bare legs. You bit down on your lip, trying to keep the giggles in. They burst from you, unwilling to be contained. He was gasping for air when he emerged from the water, hair plastered to his face.

“That wasn’t very nice,” Emily chided, coming up behind you.

“I told him we weren’t talking about it anymore,” you said.

“Of course you were,” she said.

You weren’t expecting her hands landing on your shoulders, warm through the thin cotton of your shirt. With very little effort, she shoved you backwards, straight into the cold water of the pool. Your shriek was cut off as you went under.

Spluttering, you surfaced from the water. The laughter was surrounding you. You rolled your eyes, pulling yourself out of the pool, offering a hand to Reid to pull him out after you.

“Alright, point taken,” you said, “can we stop talking about my nipples now?”

“Oh.” Spencer’s face turned into a tomato.

You reached for the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head. Wringing it out over the pool, you didn’t notice the way Emily’s eyes were lingering on your bare skin, water dripping down your body. You turned, slinging the shirt over one of the loungers, once again failing to notice how Emily’s eyes lingered where your piercings were pressing up against your bikini top.

“Alright, I’m getting another beer since mine is now at the bottom of the pool,” you said, “spoils to the victors I guess.”

Stripping your sneakers and socks off, you left them on the deck and stepped back into the kitchen. Bending, you rummaged through the ice and the cans for a bottle. You stood, empty handed, disappointment making you sigh.

“Oh, have we already run out?”

You jerked, spinning towards the woman you hadn’t heard follow you. Bumping into her, something cold sloshed over your skin. The bottle held in her hand was sweating in the warm air and the scent of beer was on the air.

“I’m so sorry,” Emily said, finger swiping through the beer clinging to your skin, right over the soft skin beside the wet fabric of your bikini.

“It’s alright. It was an accident,” you said, breath catching, heart thudding, skin heating.

“You might want to clean up. We wouldn’t want you to be so…” She raised her dark eyes from where she’d been watching her finger trail through the beer on your skin, “sticky.”

You stumbled back a step from her, heart racing. You had no idea what was going through her head but all you could think was how you wanted her tongue to trace the same route as her finger.

“I’m going to… go wash this off,” you said, slipping past her.

Her eyes followed you out of the room and this time you did notice. You weren’t fleeing but you were strategically retreating or else you might beg her lick you clean. You closed the door, giving yourself room to breathe again.

Turning on the faucet, you dabbed at the trail of drying beer on your skin. When you looked up again you found the door opening and a dark haired figure sliding into the bathroom with you. Your eyes widened when they met Emily’s in the mirror.

“Sorry. I’ll just be a second,” you said.

“No rush,” she hummed.

Reaching around you, she placed the glass bottle down on the edge of the sink, arm brushing against the dip of your waist. You stilled, frozen from how close she was, staring into her face. Lips pulled up into a confident smirk. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip, holding your breath as she seemed to draw even closer.

“I was hoping to get you alone tonight. I have a favour to ask,” she said, voice deepening as her eyes swept down again, focusing on your bare skin and the way your hardened nipples were showing through your bikini top.

“Oh?” you squeaked.

“Will you show me your piercings?” she asked.

You stuttered over an answer, cheeks heating as the thought of showing her filled your head. Your head quickly emptied of thoughts as her finger came up, playing with the string of your bikini. It brushed up over your collarbone before gently running over your pulse point. She watched you as she gently tugged on it, snapping it back against your skin.

“Please?” she asked, voice lowering until it was an intimate whisper.

“Alright,” you said, breathless, desperate, her touch making you a mess with so little effort.

She stepped back, her hand slipping from you. You took a deep shuddering breath, reaching up to slowly pull the knot free. Her tongue dragged along her lower lip as your top slid free, exposing your chest to her. One hand came up, resting against your ribs, steadying you as she stared down at your tits.

“So pretty,” she murmured.

One finger gently tapped on the ball at the end of the bar of one of the piercings. Your sharp inhalation brought her eyes up to yours, smouldering as she did it again. You weren’t aware of arching your back, pushing them towards her but her satisfied smirk was answer enough.

“Does that feel good, princess?” she asked. That nickname sent a jolt of pleasure right between your thighs.

“Uh huh,” you replied.

She gently tugged on the other, your small whimper making her chuckle.

“Use you words, princess,” she said.

“Feels so good,” you replied.

She did it again, a little rougher. Her name was a soft sigh, arching even further, practically begging her to continue. She complied, both hands playing with the jewellery in your nipples. Your fingers clutched at the counter, holding you up as you lent backwards.

“And what do you say when I make you feel so good?” she murmured, drawing closer.

“Thank you, daddy,” slipped from between your lips, surprising you. Your eyes widened, an apology ready, until you saw the way her eyes darkened, a sharp tug on one piercing then the other making you forget why you should.

She lent forward, breath ghosting over your hardened nipples. You froze, waiting to see what she was about to do. Her pink tongue ran along the length of one bar. Your moan was embarrassing in your ears but her hands were wrapped around your ribs, holding you in place as she did the same thing to the other one. She hummed, doing it again, transitioning from metal to flesh back to metal.

The clack of her teeth against the metal startled you until she tugged again, lips brushing flesh. Your knees were turning to jelly and you were gasping for air, but she held you in place as she played with your jewellery. Your head tipped back, fingers tangling in her dark hair as you pressed her closer. She hummed again, taking your nippled in her mouth, tongue playing with the piercing.

The throbbing between your legs was growing and you could feel how wet you were. You wanted her. You wanted her so badly it was like a physical thing, lodged in your chest. The vibration of her moan while her eyes looked up at you made you make small noise in the back of your throat.

Her teeth closed on the metal, tugging on it to the point of pain curling around the pleasure. The way you moaned her name was filthy, embarrassing in how desperate you were. Her hand was gentle as it skimmed up your body for those long fingers wrapped around your throat. She tugged on your piercing again, fingers tightening just enough for your whine to be quiet.

“Now you’re going to be good for daddy, aren’t you?” she said.

“Yes,” you breathed, not even sure what you were agreeing to.

“Then be good for daddy and turn around.”

You scrambled to follow her instructions, turning to face the mirror. Your eyes were blown wide in the mirror, wild and desperate. Her fingers curled around your throat again, the prettiest necklace you could imagine. With one foot she knocked both of yours apart, her other hand reaching around your body to play with the button of your denim shorts.

“You’re so good at following my instructions,” she murmured, lips brushing the shell of your ear. You felt breathless, and not just from the tightening pressure on your throat.

“Do you see how pretty you are? Looking so lovely for daddy. Wearing such pretty jewellery for me. Flaunting this body. Do you know what you do to me?” she continued, the hand on the waistband of your shorts trailing up, playing with one of your piercings again.

“Those tight little skirts in the office, watching me like you’re just waiting for me to bend you over my desk, asking for discipline. You want me to give you my full attention, don’t you princess?”

“Yes,” you whimpered.

“And that’s why you decided to show off to everyone today, isn’t it? I noticed the way you arched your back, wanting everyone to see these pretty little piercings. Did you want everyone to be imagining what you look like like this, your beautiful body on display, just perfect for my hands to play with? Such a little slut trying to get my attention.”

Her fingers tightened again around your neck. Those dark eyes were watching you, the cocky smirk on her lips only making you shift closer, pressing your hips backwards towards her. You brushed against a bulge in her pants, confusion marring your features before realisation dawned over your face.

“Do you want daddy’s cock, princess?” she asked.

“Yes,” you moaned.

“Then beg for it.”

Her eyes met yours in the mirror, waiting with a patience you did not feel.

“Please, daddy. I want your cock so bad. I need it. I need to feel you inside me. Please,” you pleaded, “please fuck me, daddy. I’ll be so good for you. I want you so much.”

Her hand trailed back down to your shorts, unbuttoning them.

“That’s my good girl,” she said.

She tugged your shorts down, your bikini bottom following close behind. You kicked them away as she tugged her hips back, the bulge in her pants brushing against the bare skin of your ass. A small whine fell from your lips, pressing further backwards.

A finger passed through your folds, gathering your wetness before it ghosted over your clit. If not for the hand still wrapped around your throat, your head would have fallen forward with a small groan. Her throaty chuckle as she teased you only made you whine, begging her for more. She held your eyes in the mirror, finger dipping into your entrance, just barely, stealing your breath again.

“Look at how desperate you are. Such a desperate little slut begging for daddy’s cock. Pretty little whore wanting to please me.”

Her hand disappeared from between your legs and the sound of a zipper made you shiver. The warmth of her body pressed against your back. Your fingers clenched around the edge of the sink, knees turning to jelly.

She held you steady, one hand on your hip as the tip of her strap teased your entrance. She gave a shallow thrust, the strap stroking through your folds. Your breath turned shaky and her fingers tightened just a little bit more, enough that you could only just suck air into your lungs.

“You’re going to make such a mess on daddy’s cock. You’re dripping. Is all this for me?”

“Yes,” came out as a strangled groan, “all for you.”

“That’s my good girl.”

She was slow to push into you, so controlled in contrast to how desperation burned through your veins. Her dark eyes were watching you in the mirror, cataloguing the way pleasure rippled over your face and a moan fell from your lips. She pushed in to the hilt, hips flushed with yours. Pausing there, she let you feel how perfectly she filled you. You wriggled your hips, wanting more, the throbbing more than you could deal with.

“Use your words, princess,” she chided, holding you still.

“Please fuck me, daddy. Please,” you whined, “need you so bad.”

“Good girl.”

She pulled out until only the tip of the cock was left before slamming into you. The cry that left your lips would have embarrassed you if a wave of pleasure wasn’t rolling over you. Your fingers clenched, holding on tight as she dragged the strap out, pausing for too long before plunging in again.

The pace she set was relentless. Harsh and rough, she maintained eye contact with you, fingers clenching around your throat the moment it looked as if you were about to look away. Her other hand was finding its home between your thigh, circling your clit, a slow contrast to her thrusts. The mumbled encouragements in your ears were only setting fire to your bloodstream.

“You’re taking it so well for daddy,” she murmured, “such a pretty pussy hungry for daddy’s cock. My little cock slut.”

“Thank you, daddy,” you sighed.

“So polite.” She sounded so pleased with you.

You moaned as her pace picked up, slamming into you. Her thumb was grinding down on your bundle of nerves and you could feel her panting breath against your skin. Her hand was tightening around your throat, cutting off your air supply. You watched her in the mirror watching you. You met her thrust for thrust, pressing your hips back to hers. You felt so full with her inside of you, her cock emptying your head of anything but her and the way she made you feel hazy with pleasure.

“I’m so close, daddy,” you whimpered.

“No cumming without permission, princess,” she told you, not bothering to slow her pace.

You did your best, holding yourself back, trying so hard not to orgasm. You wanted to be her good girl. To do what she asked you. To please her.

“Look at how pretty your pussy is when I fuck into it. It was made for my cock, wasn’t it, princess? Made just for me to use,” she murmured, hips driving into you.

She wasn’t holding back. She was watching you, so closely, making sure you followed her instructions. From the curl of her lips she knew how hard you were trying and how difficult she was making it for you. Each thrust of her cock hit that place within you that made your legs tremble and your blood sing. Over and over, thumb grinding, the pleasure was turning painful as you held yourself back.

“Please, daddy. Need to cum so bad,” you begged, tears beginning to gather in the corner of your eyes.

“Not yet, princess. Keep making daddy feel good,” she said, “you’re doing so well for me.”

You sobbed, so close to coming undone but determined to be a good girl for her. She kept pounding into you, her praise only making it harder to hold on. With a tight grip, she cut off your air supply completely. Her eyes found yours in the mirror again, and her lips ticked up into a smirk.

“Okay, cum for me, princess,” she said.

It crashed into you the moment you let it. Pleasure ripped through you, wave after wave. You sobbed out your thanks, hips stuttering as you felt yourself begin to collapse forward. The hand around your throat kept you up as she fucked you through the orgasm.

She released you, letting you fall over the sink. Her thrusting slowed until she was sheathed within you, holding you, hands gentle until you caught your breath. Sweat slicked your skin and your breathing was uneven, but when you looked in the mirror your eyes were bright and your smile lazy.

“You were so good for me, princess. Such a good girl. So perfect for me,” she praised, “you did so well.”

She pulled out of you, the feeling of being full disappearing with her. She lowered you onto the edge of the bath, so gentle. Looking up, still with her tank top on and the cock between her legs, you found yourself staring. She’d just made you cum harder than ever in your life and you wanted her to touch you again.

With sure hands, she wetted a flannel before kneeling in front of you, cleaning the sticky arousal from your skin. You melted, watching her clean you up. You reached out, running your hand through her hair. She smiled up at you, fingers trailing over the skin of your legs. Her lips pressed to the inside of your knee and you softened.

“Was that okay?” she asked, “were you okay with that?”

“More than.” You lent forward, cupping her cheeks, “I’ve wanted you for so long, Emily. This was basically my dream coming true.”

“Mine too,” she said, looking up at you.

“Maybe we could do this again,” you said, doing your best not to worry she was about to tell you this was a one time thing. She pushed the hair that had fallen from your ponytail behind your ear.

“Oh, we’re definitely doing this again,” she said, raising from her knees, “I plan on having you in every way possible.”

You heated at the thought. She tucked her strap on back into her trousers, pulling them up and re-buttoning them. She lent forward again, catching your chin between thumb and forefinger. Her lips pressed to yours, so quick it left you wanting more.

“Enjoy the beer, princess,” she said, tapping on the ball of one of your piercings, making you hiss, “you’ve earned it.”

She slipped out of the bathroom, leaving you alone to redress and try to not look like you’d just been fucked in Rossi’s bathroom. The smile on your face was a dead give away. You fixed your ponytail and pulled on your damp clothes, watching yourself in the mirror. Picking up the bottle left for you, you took a long drink from it, your lips where Emily’s had been not so long ago. Your smile refused to dim.

Maybe the heatwave wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

[1d1195]

I love your writing but I'm so mad at harry for that last traditional blurb. He never adequately explained why he ignored her for the entire function. He was a SHIT and she forgave him way too easily. There's no reason for him to ignore her for the entire night. None. She should've made him explain himself.

Traditional Extra VIII - BONUS

You're so right. I don't want to make any major excuses but to defend Harry it's not his fault. It was lazy writing on my part--I seriously just didn't write it because I didn't want to at the time and I was busy, etc etc. I read it back and noticed Harry's actually like barely in this part. I wanted this to be like entirely in her head sort of thing? Like she's worried and jealous. But she knows she doesn't need to be. She's well aware Harry was just busy. But you're right. He never talked about it and tbh it's very not-Harry of him in this story to let her let it go. But I do want to assure you it wasn't that serious! Like he wasn't meant to be THAT shitty. It was more like just business stuff and he was busy and couldn't make his way over. But you're def right, so I'm going to add another little scene here (especially because I'm def struggling to update today). I don't know if it will fix all of your concerns but hopefully between my little note here and the scene below, it will help!

Harry wrapped his arm around her waist and held her close to him as the music played softly from the band that was no longer packing up thanks to Harry's verbal and monetary encouragement. With her heels on, his lips were right at her hairline which was perfect for him. "Kitten," he hummed. His other hand held hers right against his chest.

"Hmm?" She sighed softly.

"Y'were too forgiving," he told her. "I ignored you all night," he frowned.

She shook her head. "You were busy."

"I know, but..." he sighed. "I kept seeing you. Little glances. Missed you so much. Wasn't nice of me."

"You had important business to--"

"My love," he left her hand without his on his chest and cupped below her jaw. He skimmed his thumb along her lip making her shiver. "You are more important than all m'business."

"I'm not mad at you, Harry. I'm mad I'm jealous."

"Did I make y'jealous?"

She frowned and shook her head. Tucking her face against his shoulder. Her eyes were still red-rimmed and stung from her tears. "No," she mumbled. "Not on purpose. It's me, in my head."

"Kitten," he coaxed a finger between her face and his shoulder and tilted her face back to look at him. "S'not the point," he reminded her.

She dropped her eyes to his shoulder again. "Why did you have to dance with someone so pretty?" She murmured.

He frowned. "I didn't think she was pretty."

"You're right she was beautiful, Harry."

He sighed. "Kitten," he tutted.

"You wanted to talk about this, Harry," she grumbled.

"Well, I keep expecting you t'act like me when m'jealous--"

"Well, I'm not insane, Harry. I would know I don't have to be jealous of my best friend."

He ignored her. "--but you're jus' making me sad, beautiful," he frowned again. "I adore you. You're brilliant, gorgeous, and the loveliest person I know." Her face felt flush because of his compliments. To an outsider, it probably sounded like she was fishing for them. "Y'seriously have no idea how lost I was without you."

"I do make the company better," she shrugged one shoulder smiling impishly. She loved deflecting. Harry knew that but he wasn't going to let her get away with it so easily.

"Kitten, I don't give two fucks 'bout this company, anymore. You make me whole," he promised her. "You make me feel like there's life outside the company. When m'at these events s'all talk and business. I missed you. I wanted t'know if y'liked the food. If the decorations were how you wanted. I wanted t'know what y'wanted me t'donate to the silent auction. I don't care 'bout anything I had t'talk 'bout because y'weren't by m'side," he explained. "And I should've jus' come t'find you and I didn't. M'a shitty boyfriend for that."

Her heart fluttered as he described all the sweet little things he wished he did. "Harry, you're not a shitty boyfriend."

"I made y'jealous."

She sighed. "Not on purpose, I just... get really insecure around pretty people who know more than me."

He kissed her forehead. "Do you know how many times I said my girlfriend would know that tonight?"

"Harry--"

"You are m'whole world," he promised her. "M'not kidding. You're intelligent and stunning," he scanned her face and then his gaze traveled further south. "Y'seriously think you're not sexy as hell in this dress? With all this going on?" He trailed a fingertip along the edge of her dress. Right against the swell of her left breast and dipping along the plunging neckline.

"Louis said it looked like there was a butt on my chest."

"It does look like there's a butt on your chest. S'unfair I didn't get t'see it up close 'til now." She giggled. "There she is," he sighed with relief hearing his favorite sound in the world. "I adore you. Only you. With m'whole heart. Y'have nothing t'be jealous of. Y'have every right t'be mad at me for ignoring you all night."

"I know you didn't mean to," she assured him. "Besides, I may have donated a lot of your money to the couples spa day in the auction. Probably more than it was worth."

He chuckled bringing her closer to him again so his lips could brush along her hairline. Peppering kisses along her skin. "S'probably impossible. And it was for a good cause."

"Yeah, I'll let you know how Niall and I enjoy it," her voice was full of teasing.

But Harry growled anyway. "S'bad enough he got t'look at your pretty dress all night, he is not going t'a spa day with you."

"A couples spa day."

"Last I checked, you and Niall weren't a couple."

"You're so sexy when you're possessive. Especially about Niall."

"If y'say Niall one more time, m'not responsible for what happens t'him tomorrow."

She giggled. "No need to punish Ni--him, when you could punish me."

Harry groaned. "How much was y'dress?"

"Uh..." she blushed. Worried he was going to be mad over the cost of how expensive it was for a one-time wear. "It was $900 but I actually am just renting it. I was going to return it because--"

"No, no," he brought his lips to her ear. "M'going t'ruin it and buy y'two more so I can ruin the next one too," he promised. She felt flushed, overwhelmed, dizzy, and completely turned on. "Cat got y'tongue, kitten?" She nodded silently against him. He chuckled. "Good. Let's go home and get y'out of this dress."

[tobybestupid]

If they were parents, Rdr2

Characters: Arthur Morgan, Charles Smith, Dutch Van Der Linde, Javier Escuella, Molly O'Shea, Sadie Adler.

Note: this is more of them raising young kids, like toddler age.

Arthur Morgan

★ Arthur missed Issac alot, so becoming a father again to a little girl made him so happy

★ but it must've made him slightly scared after what happened to Issac, he doesn't want anything bad to happen to his little girl.

★ to say he's protective is an understatement, he doesn't matter how old his kid is he'll always be watching over them.

★ also probably picks up random items from his 'adventures', little wood carvings, new foods, just little stuff.

Charles Smith

• He was so excited to hear he was having a kid

• he's always getting his kid stuff, little items, blankets, stuffed animals, anything.

• doesn't spoil the kid and teaches them the value of money

• teaches the kid about hunting, tracking, etc.

Dutch Van Der Linde

‡ He was shocked..and scared to have a kid, I mean sure he basically raised Arthur..and John. But he didn't know if he was a good dad??

‡ He tries his best but usually freaks out over it and fucks it up, but he keeps trying

‡ he asks Hosea for help and Hosea does, keeping a toddler entertained?? I mean maybe Dutch could do that

‡ Dutch usually lets his kid play with his rings, hopefully it'd keep the kid entertained (oooo shiny shiny twinkle twinkle)

Javier Escuella

✓ Always teaching his kid Spanish, maybe some cusses here and there for fun

✓ gets his kid a little poncho just like his!!

✓ he's not the best at parenting but he tries, maybe asking people for some help like Abigail since she has Jack.

✓ Javier is scared fo temper tantrums, horrified, of them.

✓ didn't know how to handle the temper tantrum besides trying to hush the kid, or just giving them what they want.

✓ such a sucker for the puppy eyes, falls for them all the time.

Molly 0'Shea

★ always reading to her kid, and ofcourse teaching the kid how to read

★ I feel like she'd love this kid to death and spoil them to death

★ loves to take the kid out and about to get stuff, maybe shopping, or perhaps looking at stuff in the gun store.

(I'm sorry I have like no ideas for Molly)

Sadie Adler

• of course she'll teacher kid when their old enough to use a gun when their older

• she LOVES taking her kid on rides on her horse, would love to get the kid a horse when they're old enough.

• temper tantrums are scared of her, always knows how to calm her kid down quickly

• such a sweetheart to the kid though, always playing with the sweet little kid.

============================

Sorry I am like half asleep writing this and I'm too lazy to fix anything

[slocumjoe]

Peer-Reviewing “The Synthetic Truth.”

And a long rant about irresponsible journalism

This will be a long read. As mentioned before, I was going into careers for this thing. But I’m not anymore, it’s been a while, and I’m doing this for fun in my free time. So, if you notice something I don’t, feel free to point it out. The coolest thing about my Piper rants are the other writers nodding furiously. But at the same time, disagreement is a source of learning, so don’t be shy if you have a counter-point to anything.

The point of this is to pick apart Piper’s reporting and figure out everything wrong with it. Why? Because people agree with me when I say she’s bad at her job, but I don’t think they understand just how bad. The articles themselves are long, boring slogs to read through, full of filler paragraphs and unimaginative ways of making a point. They’re forgettable. Pair that with the fact that many likely haven’t read them, and it’s easy to buy into Piper’s shtick of being a sharp, charismatic field journalist. 

Consider this post a refund. 

Noodles. We all eat them. We all love them. And Diamond City's Power Noodles has supplied this sustenance for the past fifteen years. From the stilted mechanical cadence of Takahashi's programmed Japanese, to the fragrant steam that wafts from each bowl, to the scalding tang of each delicious mouthful - the ordering and eating of noodles is but one of many shared human experiences. Or is it?

October, 2287

The Synthetic Truth

By

Piper Wright

This opening is weak and poorly connects to the next paragraph. The thesis of this article seems to be that Diamond City has a synth issue; we’ll get to that later. Noodles have nothing to do with the overall idea of the article, and she’s wasting a lot of ink on it. Remember, this is a post-apocalypses newspaper. You’d think she’d want to make things easy on her printing press and not waste her resources.

Now, the closing line here is awful. I’ve seen classmates ripped to shreds for hypothetical questions. Do not ask hypothetical questions, especially if you’re not going to outright respond to them. It’s a lazy way of getting to your point. I can just see my writing workshop teacher’s red ink on this one. 

Also, I have two nitpicks. Firstly, the description of the ‘noodle experience’ doesn’t work. It described Takahashi, but then the noodles. If it was Takahashi’s Japanese, then something else, then noodles, it would work better. When doing a three-point description, you want 1-1-1 or 3 of one thing. This is 1-2. Doing 1-1-1-1, or four points, is on shaky grounds. 3 is a magic number; not too little, not too much.

Secondly, the line “And Diamond City’s Power Noodles has supplied this sustenance for the past fifteen years” is awkward. With the first three sentences, this paragraph opens with “Noodles. We eat noodles. We Love noodles. Power Noodles makes noodles.” It’s clunky. I won’t suggest fixes because the entire paragraph needs to be thrown away.

I was struck by this very question as I sat at the counter of Power Noodles last Wednesday night, just after 5:00 pm, enjoying a dinner I had so many times before. That's when I noticed our very own Mayor McDonough sidle up to a stool, and engage in the very same ritual. Right hand extending. Mouth opening. Teeth chewing. Yes, eating noodles. The shared experience of almost every Diamond City resident.

This paragraph also needs cutting. Really look at the content of it. It describes the act of eating food. This paragraph wastes ink and paper, time, and most importantly, reader attention. The average person is not going to sit down and read through this, Piper. Aside from the creepy, stalker-like tone of this paragraph, it’s also counter-intuitive to her point.

Piper is trying to convince everyone McDonough is a synth. Here, she describes him doing something that would be very odd for an Institute agent; he goes and gets dinner at the same place she does, while she’s there. Knowing he’d be scrutinized for it. This paints the rest of the article in an unflattering light, as Piper is accusing McDonough of being a synth, while not providing proof, at the same time she’s describing ordinary behavior. 

This paragraph also fails to connect to her hypothetical question. Piper asks the question, and describes when she herself asked it. She doesn’t properly acknowledge it. This is a journalism crime. Hypothetical questions are bad, and using one, then shuffling past it, is even worse. So much red ink needed here.

So it must have also seemed to the residents of Diamond City nearly sixty years ago, on an uncharacteristically warm May evening in 2229, as they sat around this very same counter. But that was before the days of Takahashi and his noodles, when the bar served not noodles, but ice cold Nuka-Colas, frothy beers, and stiff shots of whiskey. The barman's name was Henry, and that night, he facilitated the shared human experiences of drinking, smoking, talking and laughing. That is, until tragedy struck.

The focus has shifted from an odd, pointless note about McDonough eating dinner, to the Broken Mask incident. The first paragraph is about noodles, the second is about McDonough eating noodles, and this third paragraph is about how this noodle stand used to be a bar. If Piper was writing about the noodle stand itself, this would be acceptable with some changes. But this isn’t about noodles, it’s about synths in Diamond City, but we’re still talking about the damn noodle stand.

Some nitpicks: ‘uncharacteristically’ can be cut; ‘facilitated’ is an odd word choice; 1-1-1-1 description use, ‘talking’ and ‘laughing’ could be lumped in together under ‘merriment’, ‘partying’, or some such. 

This is a matter of personal taste, but I would have left out the final line. That way, it would be of some shock when the tragedy actually strikes. It would better fit the tone Piper is going for. If this article were more objective and historical, prefacing that there is tragedy would be appropriate. 

There aren't many among us who are even old enough to remember that evening - although some of the city's Ghoul residents certainly could have, had they not been forcibly removed, thanks to Mayor McDonough's anti-Ghoul decree of 2282. But there is one person among us who does remember, distinctly, the events of that evening: respected matriarch Eustace Hawthorne, who recounted her story in a Publick Occurrences exclusive interview.

Unless Piper wants to make a point about the ghoul exile, half of this paragraph is unwarranted. Simply take the last part about Eustace and put it on the end of the last paragraph. “Eustace Hawthorne remembers the evening well.” That’s all you have to do. Saves ink, time, and reader attention. 

"Oh, I was there all right. Sitting right at the bar, sure as you're sitting in front of me now. Twenty-two years old or so, and just looking to have a good time. I was safe behind the Wall - we all were - so what was the harm? And let me tell you, that Mr. Carter made it easy. He came into town earlier that day, said he was from out west somewhere. It didn't really matter. What did matter was his smile, and his laugh, and the way he'd make everyone feel at ease. That night, at the bar, we all just sort of crowded around him. Everyone wanted to exchange a word, or hear about the state of the Commonwealth. And Mr. Carter, he was all too happy to oblige. It was just so wonderful. Until it wasn't."

What Eustace is describing is, of course, is the infamous event known as the "Broken Mask," when the people of the Commonwealth learned for the first time that the Institute, the shadowy scientific organization responsible for the creation of combat androids, had actually succeeded in creating a model so advanced, it could effortlessly infiltrate human society. Unbeknownst to the people of Diamond City, the Institute had somehow evolved their androids into true synthetic humans. Synths.

Eustace continued her account of that evening, and the moment when things turned sinister, and the truth about Mr. Carter was revealed.

"We'd been drinking, and carrying on, must have been three hours. Mr. Carter had four or five drinks in that time. He seemed a bit drunk, I guess, like the rest of us. Then something just sort of happened. He was smiling, but the smile sort of went from his face, all in an instant. And then his cheek started twitching, kind of funny. And I remember watching him, clear as if it happened just yesterday. He reached inside his coat, took out a revolver, and then 'Blam!' - He shot Henry, the barman, right in the head. Didn't hesitate, didn't show any emotion - Mr. Carter killed Henry as casually as if he were paying him for a drink. But his cheek never did stop twitching. Let me tell you, all Hell broke loose after that."

"After he shot Henry, that Mr. Carter shot three or four other people, too. Like I said, all Hell broke loose. The guards came running, they opened fire, and Mr. Carter he kept shooting, and throwing people around left and right. Finally, those guards put him down. Seemed like they had killed a man who had flipped his lid. Gone crazy. And he lay there like a dead crazy man, sure enough. God, it was horrible. But then we saw the plastic and the metal - this was one of them early synths, you see - and we realized it wasn't a man at all. It was then we all knew. The Institute wasn't just 'out there.' The Institute was everywhere now. Among us."

Oh, Piper. Sweetheart, god bless. 

Never, ever, ever use a full quote like this. Ever! A cursory Google search will tell you to use quotes sparingly. Any middle-school teacher will tell you to not just drop them in and leave, like you’ve written a paragraph. Every writing resource out there will tell you to do something with a quote, and give it a point. This paragraph fails on all metrics.

When using large blocks of quotations like Piper is doing, for the love of god, paraphrase. Piper, in this section, has two paragraphs; one is saying that Eustace’s quote isn’t done yet, and the other is describing what Eustace is already describing. If I put anything like this in front of any of my teachers, they’d call in for a welfare check, asking if I’d lost my mind over night.. Piper writes nothing of her own substance here. You cannot use a quote like this. Sure, this is an interview, and maybe interview articles have different rules, but surely this is a massive amount of ink, spent recounting Eustace’s winding manner of speech.

I’m doing the same thing here, but the difference is that I am directly examining each paragraph; Piper is just dropping in her quotes and continuing on. This is a rookie mistake. I know Piper wasn’t properly taught these things, but it still is a sign of weak, purposeless writing. If you have a point, and you care about it, and, crucially, it has the legs, you don’t need to prop it up with a quote dump like this. 

It was never determined precisely why the synth known as Mr. Carter went on his killing spree. Some suggested he had somehow been remotely controlled by the Institute, who wanted to test his combat effectiveness. Still others felt he had simply malfunctioned (a hypothesis supported by the twitching cheek), and was never meant to kill anyone. But at that time, the "why" hardly seemed important. What mattered was that the humans of the Commonwealth had been truly infiltrated by an organization whose intentions and motives were, and still are, a complete mystery - using a model of synth even less advanced than the ones the Institute has in service today.

I can’t tell if this paragraph looks alright to me because of the horror of the quotation section, or it’s genuinely inoffensive. It’s boring, sure, but it has a point. It lays out the theories behind Mr. Carter’s attack, and then pushes the point that it doesn’t matter; there are now synths among them, hiding in plain sight. The last sentence is a bit of a run-on, though. It could have been broken up into two sentences. 

This paragraph gets a solid B. Unimaginative, a bit too long, but it has a purpose and fulfills it competently. It uses too many adverbs, though, but that’s a common issue throughout the article. Precisely, remotely, simply, hardly, truly - it’s a small thing, but once you get an eye for it, you’ll never stop noticing it. 

Which brings us to noodles. Specifically, the noodles consumed by Mayor McDonough last Wednesday night, in the same spot that Mr. Carter the synth went haywire, and mercilessly killed several people - after spending hours sharing an experience the people of Diamond City assumed was reserved for members of the human race. They were wrong.

This paragraph attempts to connect McDonough to Mr. Carter through this stand, citing it as a common denominator of Institute meddling, the heart of Diamond City now invaded. But she does this through the fact that Mr. Carter went haywire here, and the fact that McDonough eats here. This is false correlation. Piper herself eats here, but in her eyes, McDonough taking an action that Mr. Carter also took is proof that the Institute is pulling the strings. To her, this noodle stand is a symbol of a lost security. But objectively, she’s still just talking about McDonough getting dinner.

This is not how you do set up and pay-off. I’ll give a demonstration of tying the ending back to your opening at, obviously, the end of this post.

Are we?

You ended. On a two-word hypothetical question. 

If my teacher received anything, no matter how well the rest of it was, with a two-word hypothetical question for a closing paragraph, she would have stood up on her desk, pointed at it with her red pen, and gone into exhaustive detail for the remainder of class why you don’t do this.

But for all the bad writing decisions in this article, they aren’t the worst thing.

Let’s talk about journalism, and the responsibilities of it.

Accountability 

A keen eye will have noticed the inflammatory nature of this article.

This article is somewhat insidious, as the wording and topic choice leads to a subtle hint towards paranoia. “They were wrong...Are we?” wants the reader to wonder if they, themselves, are in danger of a synth going haywire, or a synth walking past them like anybody else. Piper wants her reader to keep this in mind, every single day. She wants them to never not think about the Institute infiltrating their home. 

Piper writes about nothing, but the subtext is everything. She encourages a reader to view everyone with suspicion; after all, if a synth can eat noodles and drink and make merry with anyone, how do you trust anyone? It’s a valid point, yes. But it’s a shortsighted one. How do you trust anyone in the wasteland, synth or not? Someone could be trying to rob you, sell you into slavery, kill you. Piper singles out the Institute as the only real threat in her articles. Need I remind you, Piper is unaware of Quincy’s recent siege and take over by the Gunners? 

Quincy was a large, thriving city, and was a major trading hub. There’s a reason Piper picked Quincy as your fake origin. The wealth and resources are why the Gunners attacked in the first place. It was a massacre. On a trading hub. Think of what that would do for the weak economy. Think of how many people would know the traveling traders, or had friends and family living in Quincy. Piper doesn’t go to the Quincy survivors for their account, or Preston for his side of the story as the failed protector. To Piper, the Institute is the most urgent threat to the Commonwealth. She fixates on it. The Institute is a threat, yes. Remember University Point? But Piper doesn’t write about that, either, and there’s been time for the news of U.P to reach Diamond City. For Quincy, I’m willing to forgive her. It was a recent attack. But as a reporter, Piper should be keeping her ear to ground for these sorts of things. 

A quick list of things Piper should be writing about, for the good of her community.

The Ghoul exodus, and the pointlessness of racism in a time where you need every friendly hand you can get.

The Gunners and their encroaching presence in the Commonwealth

Quincy being commandeered. 

The Brotherhood rolling into the Commonwealth.

News about crops and economy from other settlements.

Homesteading information that would be useful for a post-apocalypse home, such as preserving, tailoring, and the like. 

The Railroad.

Goodneighbor, and the difference of leadership between Hancock and his brother. 

Dangerous areas in the Commonwealth, safe routes you can take to other locations.

Merchant routes.

Bunker Hill.

The rebuilding of the Minutemen. 

Institute top-side activity, such as in University Point, the Mayoral Bunker in the west, and more.

The destruction of the Commonwealth Provisional Government, and why the Institute wouldn’t want the Commonwealth to be united.

But that isn’t what she writes about. Piper writes about synths in Diamond City. Diamond City is already paranoid about the Institute after the Broken Mask Incident. Piper can write about the Institute; she just doesn’t do it in meaningful ways. Her paper literally has an advice column; this isn’t a reputable source of information, it’s her own think-pieces.

If I was a journalist in the wasteland, I would be trying to unify my community. I would be looking for important news, useful information and survival tips, and trying to find answers where there are questions. I would not be rallying my community against each other, telling them that our leader is a fraud, that any of them could be frauds. And then I wouldn’t insist to anyone willing to listen, that no one is believing me, despite the town being in a constant state of dread. 

That’s the real problem I have with Piper; she can’t take no for an answer, even when she’s getting ‘yes’. Piper’s articles are working, but because they can’t just throw McDonough out, she blames the residents of Diamond City. She calls them cowards, sheep, brown-nosing. The guards are talking about synths, the residents are talking about synths, people want Nick thrown out after all his good deeds because they just can’t trust him anymore. If you walk around Diamond City, people will tell you they broke up with their girlfriend because she did something weird, so she must be a synth. Cathy at the barber thinks the mayor’s secretary is a synth, because her hair is too nice. The general store owner, Myrna, who has to interact with more people than most, can barely run her business because she’s so terrified that she isn’t interacting with who she thinks she is. 

And Kyle, a DC resident, thinks something killed his brother, Riley, and stole his face. Angry, grieving, deluded, he tries to put down the mockery, only for guards to execute him. There were no synths, but someone still died because of the fear that there might have been. 

And where does this happen?

In front of the noodle stand. 

(See? That’s how you bring things back around.)

Piper writes that the Institute first invaded Diamond City at this stand, the heart of town, and now, a synth leads Diamond City while eating here. But the Institute isn’t what is hurting Diamond City. It’s fear. Everyone turns on everyone else, for fear they’re a synth. There is still violence, for fear of history repeating itself. 

Fear that Piper will not stop perpetuating.

[burnwater13]

Grogu wondered how the New Republic managed to get anything done. They had a few people scattered around the Outer Rim and a bunch in the Core worlds, but its not like they acted very different from the Empire and the Old Republic. 

Okay. As far as he knew they didn’t just arrest people and force them to build things like parts to the Second Sun, but he really wondered what they were doing. Filling out reports? He’d overheard Carson Teva commenting on that once and wondered how many reports it would take to stop the people who fought so hard against the Empire to be doing something that sounded so boring just on the face of it. 

Were they just so tired from fighting that they welcomed the boredom? Maybe. He used to think he’d like a little boredom. Then he’d ended up on Arvala-7 and had plenty of it. Boredom was not all it was cracked up to be. 

You weren’t just resting. You weren’t just healing. You weren’t just be lazy. Nope. Nope. Nope. You were stuck. In a rut. In a dead end. In a … well you get the drift. Boredom wasn’t fun. It was the opposite of fun. Time on your hands and unable to do anything. Uff.

Grogu liked a little action. A little fun. A little intrigue. Stuff like bounty hunting, even if the bounty was just getting your parts back from the Jawas so you could rebuild your ship. Or floating down a river of lava and fighting off the Imp Remnants and escaping in the Razor Crest because that had been anything but boring. 

He could understand not everyone liking that sort of thing. Maybe they were more like Peli and they liked the challenge of building and fixing starships and speeders. And cheating at Sabacc. He knew she cheated but he couldn’t exactly explain how she managed it. That was totally not boring. Whenever he played the card game with her he had to keep a shriek hawk’s eye on her and still he didn’t know how she did it. That kept his mind engaged and he had observed that it kept her mouth engaged in trying to convince him that it was highly likely that a good player such as herself could draw three idiot’s arrays in a row. Whatever. Still not boring.

He supposed that the Marshal from Mos Pelgo would have liked some boredom once in a while, but Grogu seriously doubted that anyone who had the title ‘Marshal’ ever really liked boredom. Sure they might want a breather or a break or even a nap once in a while, but if you were taking on peace keeping anywhere in the Outer Rim worlds you knew you’d have more excitement than boredom. Between spice runners, gangs, pirates, and people hiding out from the authorities, which ever authorities they were, there was always some drama being stirred up. 

Even without the people based drama, you still ended up with critter based drama. The Krayt dragon hunt had been anything but boring. It may have been a bit too exciting, but once Grogu’s dad had gotten away from the dragon everything was at the right level of exciting again. Of course he’d told Din Djarin to never do it again. Getting swallowed by a critter like that was no joking matter even if you gave it the worst case of indigestion ever. 

After that they had the excitement of the ice spiders, the mamacore, and the other Mandalorians. Grogu giggled at that. No, they were critters. And they weren’t boring. Not even a tiny bit. They were the walking embodiment of drama as far as Grogu could tell and he didn’t find that boring, yet.  And even though he wasn’t allowed to go on the big adventure, staying behind and spending a ‘quiet afternoon’ with the Frog Lady and her partner and their offspring hadn’t been boring at all. No reports involved. They just watched the eggs transform into tadpoles and that was just straight up fascinating. They grew so fast. It was like watching a magic trick. Other people might not notice, but Grogu measured growth in centimeters per decade, not centimeters per minute! It was like watching the pod races on Tatooine. 

Grogu hoped that Carson Teva didn’t spend  all his time doing reports and found some time for fun and adventure. He got to fly around in his own X-Wing and check up on people and what they were doing and had folks he could rely on to help him with all that. 

It sounded like the kind of job Grogu would like to have one day. Especially the flying the X-Wing part. Then he and the Mandalorian could race around the galaxy and see if they could get to Kessel faster than anyone else. As long as the droid teacher didn’t ask him to provide a trip report, that sure wasn’t going to be boring.

[forestshadow-wolf]

I.S.B.T.P.K.F.T.S moments (chapter 4- Part 1)

Fic link written by @tavtarnish. Please go check it out. It is fantastic!

if anyone was invested in this at all, I sincerely apologize for not updating this for so long, I don't really have a reason other than I just got lazy. anyway- ONWARDS!!!

chapter 3 || Chapter 5

The opening of the chapter

The way it definitely implied that soap has undoubtedly been at it for a while. Long enough to settle into a routine. It also shows his frustration really well. The strength that he's hitting, and they way his mind still continues to wonder

Remembering hearing his mother call him angrily from the house

I feel like this is such a core memory for me. Also idk if anyone else had the experience where their parents kicked them out of the house during the summer and then got mad when they didn't make it back in time for dinner. Like I'm sorry?? All you said was go outside, and didn't give me a time to be back? Kinda got off topic here, the point was: core memory unlocked

Little john trying not to make the punishment worse by being gentle with the the door and stuff

I honestly have nothing to say at this point, it's just super relatable to me

Idk if ive said this before but his sisters' names

I just think they're lovely

They way he feels guilt even as a child for not being there to redirect or avoid completely his mother's anger

This makes me so sad :( bb it's not ur fault

The casset that he and his sister were fighting about just days earlier as an apology!!!!!

This is exactly how it is to have siblings, like you'll be at eachother's throats and then something happens and then it's like it never happened. Also never once has a verbal apology been as affective as an action

Also being able to feel the anger flowing off his mother... like that's when you know you're in some deep shit

The whole come home by the time the street lights come on

Is accurate. Relatable. Especially getting back late because fo the changing season...

The disappointment in his mother's voice

That one hurted just a lil bit bc disappointment is always just that much worse than anger isn't it??

And he understands her frustration

That just makes it all the worse, right? I mean he just wanted some more time to have fun with his friends, but that left his mother swamped with everything else. It's really a lose lose situation :/

Not bringing up his father "after the last time"

Knowing when to pick his battles. But also what happened last time?? I can only assume lots of yelling and crying and and just :(

The following quiet

And it's like nobody except you can feel the tension still in the air, and it's like the smallest thing could set everything off again

Im ignoring something for right now I will circle back to it in a moment. But lemme just say his father?

I'm not liking the vibes I get from him... there I said it. I don't like him

His mother brushing over his hair and the back of his head

Look I know I've been making it seem like I think mary is a bad mom, but she really isn't. She's just overworked and doing her best. And john understands that but he also needs to be able to be a kid. And mary needs help around the house bc there is too much to do and only one of her

Ok back to the thing I ignored. The way he wishes for her to just get angry

I think maybe it's bc when people are angry it's easy to deal with, either you argue back, stay quiet, or say/do whay they want you to right? But with the disappointment it's almost the same response just with no visable reason for it. It's harder to deal with because we as people are not taught how to fix it other than to "do better next time" but how does that fix what happened now?

I also want to pint out the bolded part

Bc like the yelling is so much easier to deal with than the calm voice. Maybe it's bc you can still feel the pent up tenson that might have normally been released with the yelling

Also he wonders if it makes him a bad son

And I think, maybe normally people don't wish for that, but it doesn't make him a bad son. Like I understand so completely how he feels, and it's so real that it's devastating. And it doesn't make him a bad son. And I know that because maybe for him it's just easier for him to deal with physical problems than it is for him to deal with whatever this is.

And then the last line of the flashback

God!! I just know he was beating himself up after that. I do. I just know. And it's the perfect segue back into the present moment.

Getting so lost hin his head that he forgets he's even really doing anything

I guess forget isn't really the right word. Like he knew enough to keep doing it, but kinda just tuned everything else out.

The way it all just bubbles up

The lights just too loud, the air hot and heavy with anger and frustration. And he's still aped up despite all the energy he spent. And he tried, he really does try to keep himself composed. But the irritation makes his bones buzz, and he just needs to do something, anything to get it out. And he's so worked up that he doesn't even realize he split his knuckles until he looked at them.

And then it keeps building

It's too much, all of it. The steaming anger, the loudness of the lights, the way his hair remains untamed despite his efforts

Focusing on his hair again, idc what anyone says, his hair is actually such an important part of him. So his hair getting in the way, in his face, even after he tries to rake it out of the way... maybe kinda like how he's having trouble with his emotional regulation? It's kinda like his emotions are clouding his rational thinking, which is a perfect lead to my next point.

Where it all finally boils over

He shouldn't, he knows he shouldn't. But the useless buzzing is still in his bones and flowing through his veins. And he just has to do something or he might just brun from the inside out.

And then the immediate regret

"If it isn't the consequences of my own actions" for real though this is actually an important part. Because sometimes even if it's a personal issue you have to choose the lesser of two evils, even if you don't know you even have options. Also I think the is very much foreshadowing what will happen if he doesn't properly acknowledge the problem, and also shows what it is doing to him in a physical manifestation.

Also perhaps symbolism of not actually vomiting... because ya boy is emotional constipated

Ok im gonna end this here for now, because if this sits im my drafts any longer it'll never get posted. Also sorry if this isn't as indepth as the other parts, I'm doing all of this on my phone.

[homemade-history]

like??? i lay down and the parts of my head that are touching the pillow hurts like hell. i sit up and the front of my head hurts like hell. i lean my head back slightly and it hurts like hell. i close my eyes and it hurts. i keep my eyes open and it hurts. my head feels momentarily better if its warm. then it gets too warm and it starts hurting. i try to put smth cool on it and it's now too cold and it hurts like hell. what the fuck is going on

why do i always feel so god awful only when im laying down in bed trying to sleep??

[stardust-revengers]

...

[12raben]

Filling the gaps - part 27 - Exceptional Bella

Edit 02/20/2022: Added a link to cutom skirt for the “Bella isn’t special” option; fixed some typos

When I tested my defaults alongside some mods in pleasantview, I was pretty disappointed, when I saw Bella walk around like a petty peasant.

So I made everything unnecessarily complicated by making a default replacement especially for her. But since the uncomplicated, yet functional replacement was done already, you can get it as well.

The default replacements below the cut will affect aftopnaked and afbottomskirttight.

Let’s start with the easy “Bella isn’t special” option.

In the folder are 2 replacements and the 2 required meshes.

DR_aftopnaked-Cynnix-HPLongSleeve-Fireflower-vikingunderdress_12Raben will replace 6 basegame tops. These are using @fireflowersims​‘s viking underdresses as tops with loose sleeves as a base. You can find them here, if you don’t want to use the default. I used the textures: Buckthorn-Iron, Indigo-Alum, Kermes-Copper, Kermes-Tin, Logwood-Alum and Brasilwood-Alum. I removed the empty normal maps from the tops, but that’s it.

DR_afbottomskirttight-DeeDee-MaxisSkirtSandals_12Raben will replace the iconic Bella skirt with a plain recolour of @deedee-sims​‘s Maxis Skirt with Sandals. I will upload the custom version some time in the future. The mesh has been converted for elders and teens and I want to make repositoried versions for the other ages, but was too lazy to do so until now.

You can download the custom version here.

The historical accuracy is probably at modern renfaire level. I have no idea, whether the shoes are appropiate for medieval times... probably not. But it looks nice without hose/socks. 😅

The texture on the shoulders is sligtly misplaced in the picture above. This has been fixed in the upload.

The misplaced texture on the shoulder came from using diffrent tops. So, depending on the top, you’re combining the skirt with, your results might vary.

Both tops and bottom are categorised as everyday, formal and maternity wear. (Ah, bask in the presence of meshes with all morphs.) They might spawn on townies.

The “Bella is special” option

If you don’t mind clipping, making the matter more complicted, than it should be, and throwing every mention of historical accuracy out of the window, then this option is for you.

Just as above aftopnaked will be replaced with fire_flower’s viking underdresses as tops except aftopnaked_darkred aka Bella’s top.

The tops are categorised as everyday, formal and maternity wear and might spawn on townies.

Bella’s Special Files

DR_afbottomskirttight-Cynnix-FullSkirtTrain_12Raben will replace Bella’s skirt with a recolour of Cynnix’s full skirt with train. I haven’t included the custom version, since it looks a little wonky, when not combined with the jacket.

DR_aftopnaked_darkred-DeeDee-Yuxi_DeusExMegan_toponlydress_12Raben will only replace Bella’s top with DeeDee’s Yuxi’s Deus Ex Megan as Top Only. I only got rid of an empty texture, everythig else stayed the same. I want to adress, that the top still uses 2 fairly big textures. (1024x1024 and 2048x2048) Reducing the images’ size turned the textures blurry, so I left them untouched. 

The combination looks pretty rad in my humble opinion.

Sadly there is some clipping:

To make sure your townies don’t sport this clipping, otherwise non-matching, texture-intensive outfit, I flagged it as not-townie-friendly. The top and bottom can both be worn as everyday, formal, maternity and outerwear clothing. (Aaah, even more meshes with all morphs. Bliss.)

(The hairstyle in the pictures is not included. It’s Newsea Pasodoble, which has been pooklet by Simsbury. Beware though: The polycount is relatively high: 11.000)

There is a spot on the right thumb in the preview pictures. This has been fixed in the upload.

The Meshes

As mentioned above, all required meshes are included.

The Bella isn’t special option requires 2 meshes for top and bottom replacement. Both are included in the folder.

The Bella is special option uses 3 meshes. The packages for Bella’s special:

DR_afbottomskirttight-Cynnix-FullSkirtTrain_12Raben DR_aftopnaked_darkred-DeeDee-Yuxi_DeusExMegan_toponlydress_12Raben

contain the required meshes. This means, that you won’t have to add a mesh package.

The replacement for aftopnaked, that doesn’t cover Bella’s top, which is included in the folder, requires Cynnix's mesh for the untucked top with long sleeves. Since I used that mesh for a bunch of other replacements it is not packaged with the file, but included in the folder.

All files have been compressed. Preview pictures are included in the archive.

+Credits+

Mesh:

Cynnix

DeeDee

Textures:

DeeDee

Iamliz

Sherabim

Sunni

+Download (SFS)+

Quick & Dirty Install instructions:

Choose EITHER Bella isn’t special OR Bella is special folder

Bella isn’t special:

This folder contains 2 default replacements.

All required meshes are included in the archive.

Delete any default for aftopnaked and/or afbottomskirttight you might already have!

Tops require “MESH_Cynnix_afLongSleeve_HPuntucked”

Bottom requires "DeeDee_Io_MaxiSkirtSandals_AF_MESH”

Bella is special:

This folder contains 3 default replacements. All required meshes are included in the archive.

Delete any default for aftopnaked and/or afbottomskirttight you might already have! 

DR_aftopnaked-Cynnix-HPLongSleeve-Fireflower-vikingunderdress_12Raben will replace only 5 of the Basegame tops.

The package requires Cynnix's mesh for the untucked top with long sleeves. It's included in the folder.

Special for Bella - afbottomskirttight & aftopnaked_darkred

DR_aftopnaked_darkred-DeeDee-Yuxi_DeusExMegan_toponlydress_12Raben will only replace aftop_darkred aka Bella's top, but leaves other variations untouched.

DR_afbottomskirttight-Cynnix-FullSkirtTrain_12Raben will replace the skirt, that matches the top.

These 2 packages include the required meshes, so you won't need any additional files.

As mentioned in previous posts: To access separates in categories other than everyday, you’ll need a piece of clothing, that is available in those categories. E.g.: A top, that is categorised as formal needs a bottom piece in the fomal category and vice versa.

Recommended, but not necessary:  Lazyduchess’ Separate Top/Bottoms for non-Everyday Clothes Mod

Happy simming!

[antiloreolympus]

10 Anti LO Asks

1. No cap but Persephone's hair, when it's short and flat, really does look like Rachel Smythe.  

2. honestly i feel like if rachel kept her original style more serious aspect like the kronos stuff would actually carry some weight, because the current style is so cartoony looking with such oversaturated colors and goofy expressions  at every turn that i just cant take any of it seriously. i dont get how she had a style made so much better for young adults and older readers while still being stylized but now it looks like a lazy knock off of the steven universe style.

3. There's a really good theory that LO Zeus swallowed Metis because she's a fertility goddess, which would in turn give him enough power they needed to take out Kronos, so it'd be a tragic circumstance and desperate choice over just Zeus being awful. It gives him so much more nuance and shows what tough choices he made to win and earn the respect to be king and I can't wait for Rachel to NOT use it because Zeus is a meanie who is against Persephone and the fans would NEVER accept it. Yaaaay. 😒

From OP: To clarify, Demeter does say in the story that Zeus swallowed Metis because she’s a fertility goddess so it’s not a theory.(Episode 145)

4. “Persephone speaks her truth” is what Webtoon sent as an notification…. She basically didn’t. 

5. the UnO creator is finally coming back after over half a year off and you can tell just off their social media they're so much happier after a real break. I would so like to see RS do that but I just don't see it happening.

6. im not at all suprised Rachel went with the "hades finds out by accident" route. does anybody remember why hepheaestus is there???? was there any alluding to his presence???

7. i swear, no one in lo even talk like actual people. i know some writer friends who work out their dialogue by saying it outloud and taking out whatever sounds unnatural to the human ear, but rachel just goes guns blazing into weird cringey dialogue, esp when its trying to sell how into each other hxp is (why would demeter say hades looks like a man dying fo thirst and that her DAUGHTER looks like a sparkling river?? like who talks like this, esp about their own child??)

8. theres this one webtoon artist on featured who does nothing but suck up to rachel any chance she can get, meanwhile im p sure rachel doesnt even follow them? and theyre constantly kissing up to her and webtoons and dont see anything wrong with how they overwork themselves as a single artist while the actual company doesnt even promote their comic and theyre still living off commissions to survive. like girl, focus on yourself over hoping rachel might one day help you. she wont.

From OP: Tbf, they may be friends on discord or something else.

9. i feel like a big problem with the writing too is it wants us to go off a modern value system, yet at the same time wants to use the "its ancient times" excuse for how hades and co. act very badly, especially by modern standards (he owns slaves!!), but also wants to weave "good and bad" together but cant show the shades of gray because bot rachel and her fans do not want the characters to be complex, they can only be wholly good or bad. under a real writer this would work, bot it cant under RS.

-----FP Spoilers/Mention-----

10. I don't even know where to start. What was that filler chapter? An attempt to give P any character development? Why making her naked additionally? It's just repetitive attempt to fix what should have been fixed long ago and I'm not buying any of it. And P again doesn't care how awful person H is (wanting for his slaves to suffer eternally) cause I guess he looks "cute" holding a hen lol. She brushes it off like it's nothing. I'm sorry where is Helios?

[volleyball-dontknowher]

Spa Trip Daichi x reader

Words: 1.4k 

Warnings: A little steamy makeout at the end 

A/n: Guys I started this wayyy too late today and wanted to finish it but didn’t go back and proof read it so I am sorry but I really really like it though and I will try and fix things tomorrow but no promises 

You and Daichi didn’t get a ton of alone time together, you were both the type to work work work and then take little time for play so the two of you decided to go on a mini-vacation together to hopefully just spend some time relaxing. What you didn’t realize was the hotel/spa you chose for the weekend was also for kids. When you entered the spa and realized this your heart dropped, you wanted a big kid weekend with your man, you didn’t want to be surrounded by little kids running around and peeing in the pool. Daichi instantly understood your worry and instead of worrying himself he grabbed your hand and told you that everything was going to work out, the two fo you were going to have fun if you liked it or not. When you got to your room the first thing Daichi did was open the bottle of champagne that was sitting on the edge of your bead and poured each of you a glass. 

“Y/f/n y/l/n, I love you with my whole heart and I can’t wait to spend this wonderful weekend with you,” he toasts before taking a sip, smiling at you the whole time. You went to a wonderful couples massage that pulled every kink out of your neck and back before getting some much-needed shut-eye. The next morning you were awoken with little kisses on your forehead as Daichi squeezed you close to his chest. He was barely awake and his kisses were soft and frequently hitting different spots on your face because his eyes were still shut in hopes of falling back asleep. When you both finally got out of bed you had completely missed breakfast so you decided to have something light for a quick lunch before you went to a couples relaxation and yoga private event. The event was absolutely wonderful, you two were horrible at the yoga part but every time Daichi messed up he took you down with him in a fit of laughter. You then went back to the room and just relaxed with each other watching whatever dumb soap opera was on the TV while he rested his head in your lap. Neither of you paid any attention to what was on tv, it was just background noise as you paid attention to the other person. Daichi kept smiling at you and telling you how pretty you are and how lucky he is to have you and when he wasn’t he was grabbing your hand and kissing it or he was turning and kissing your thighs as you took time to relax. 

You quickly got bored of just sitting around because the two of you wanted to do things on your little vacation or you would feel like you wasted the weekend doing things you probably could have done at home. You decided that the pool would be an amazing idea, more like you looked out the window and saw that there was practically no one where you wanted to go so you practically threw Daichi off the couch so you could go swim. You threw on a cute bikini as you headed down the elevator and out to the elaborate set of pools enclosed inside of the hotel. You get giddy as you practically run to find the only set of open chairs along the side of the pool. You lay your towels down across the chairs as Daichi slowly makes his way over to you, clearly less impressed than you are. He helps you rub on sunscreen before you return the favor and the two of you go to get in the pool. Lucky for you the pool has an adults-only section that you head straight for. The adults-only really was just a hot tub and a lazy river that was gated off from the other pools. Immediately the two of you went for the hot tub, excited to sit back and relax, especially because you would be the only two in the hot tub. 

You climbed into the hot dub and sat right next to Daichi, your hands trailing to rest on his thighs as you leaned your head back and enjoyed the hot water bubbling against your skin. You were the most relaxed you’ve been in months, you kept trying to make time to relax but something had always come up and now this was the perfect way to get away and it was even better that you had Diachi at your side. 

“Incominggggggg,” you hear a little voice shout as the water splashes before you can even register the little voice. You shoot your eyes open and see his head pop up above the water as he lets out a little scream, you have no idea what was happening. Daichi shoots up from beside you and picks the little kid, who was at most four years old up and carries him out of the pool. You quickly follow behind, concerned about what has just happened. 

“Hey little buddy, are you okay? That water was pretty hot,” Daichi asks as he sets the little boy down, as he squats next to him, not letting go of his hand. 

The little boy is too shocked to answer but instead, he nods at Daichi and gives him a little smile. “Okay, buddy, what’s your name?” Daichi asks. 

“Jaden,” he answers nervously. 

“Okay Jaden, where are your parents,” Daichi asks in a calm voice, “you’re not in trouble buddy, I just want them to know where you are,” he smiles as the little boy lets out a sigh of relief. Jaden smiles and points to a woman cradling a newborn baby and identifies her as his mom. Daichi smiles and picks him up as he brings Jaden back to her. You trail behind but miss what Daichi said to his mother, but you know it went well by the happy hug she gave both Jaden and Daichi. Daichi comes back over to you with a cheeky smile on his face as he climbs back into the hot tub and pats the spot next to him. You have no idea how he just did that but he just looked so incredibly sexy. The way his wet hair stuck to his face and his muscles tensed as he patted the spot net to him made him look like a sort of god. That mixed with the fact that he was just the best man on the planet made him damn near irresistible, instead of sitting on the seat next to him, you sat straight on his lap and locked your hands in his hair as you pulled him in for a passionate kiss. You wasted no time slipping your tongue past his lips as you deepened the kiss. Daichi took a second to process what had just happened but happily placed his hands on your butt and pushed your tongue out of his mouth and slipped his tongue in yours taking full control of the kiss. You felt him slowly getting hard against you causing you to let out a little gasp. Daichi smirked and pulled away from the kiss, “like what you see?” he smiled at you before kissing down your neck. You let out a little moan before his tongue was back in your mouth and his teeth were pulling at your lower lip. You couldn’t help but grind against his hardened member as you pulled at his hair. Daichi brought one hand up to the cup your breast as his other hand had completely grabbed your ass and was kneading it in his large hands. You Help him twitch beneath you as you ground down on his length again causing him to let out a little moan as he bit a mark onto your neck, licking and sucking the now sensitive spot to be dark enough you can’t hide it for the rest of the weekend and probably not for work on Monday. You pull his lips back into another kiss before he wraps his arms under your legs and slowly lifts the two of you up so that he is holding you up, never once breaking the kiss. He walks you both out of the hot tub and to your towels where he just pulls them over his shoulder and carries you back to the room.

[penaltybox14]

DecoFiremen: No happy choice

@zeitheist @darknight-brightstar @squad51goals @its-skadi  Silky is sick in the city, and Josiah has to make some choices, and have some conversations.  Emotions are hard, yo.

It's never good, to see that look on Eddy's face.  His fighter's jaw is set, but his eyes are soft like ships on a dark harbor.  This is the face that bodes bad news, something Eddy can't fix with his hands, a hot cup of coffee or a knock about the ears.  When Josiah sees that look, after breakfast one late winter's day, the first thing he thinks is the state has come to call on Davey again.  He'd taken them in his teeth that day at the gate, and thought if not rid of them altogether, he'd bought them enough time to think of how to put them off for good.  It did wake him, though, to watch the high moon paint his quarters and fear the state might come back, with papers, with authority, with some force he could not bluff. 

(If they were to take Cleary now, he thinks, the boy would be lost forever.  He would be some shadow growing thinner and paler on the back ward of the state hospital, he would settle sure as smoke in that long dark hall of his or drown in the lake below the lawn.  For sure, he would.)

"No," Eddy says, his raw knuckles flexing, catching the rattle of Josiah's thoughts, "no, it ain't the young fella."

"So what is it, then?  You hear from town there's none left of those hot peppers the grocer pickles, that you eat whole from the stem?" 

Josiah's humor falls as flat and pale as vellum in the typewriter, gnawed down by keystrokes.

"Got a telegram from the city, Birchy."  Eddy grips the butcher-block of the back kitchen's table, leans, uprights, and leans again.  "Silky's gone down sick."

"Sick." Josiah has to steady himself.  His bad leg throbs like a bad dream that upends the day.  "Gone down sick?  Who sent it?"

"Hastings at 27.  He's at casualty down at Bellevue, thinking it's pneumonia."

He cannot go.  He cannot go: he is responsible here, the Captain of this house, their grounds.  He cannot go: to leave his post, to leave the lads, to leave the boy.  Worst of all, that: to leave the boy.  What kind of captain would he be then, to leave the newest and the rawest of recruits, who still trembles under the blunt wind of the sear and some days even falls to it?  Some damn bastard, he would be, but his heart and his bent leg howl as the breath of horses, carrying him surely to the city.  He was a coward once who left a hundred thousand words unanswered, the great sulk of an overgrown child.  It was not Silky's fault, was it, after all, that the roof had caved, that his body had broken under the greedy teeth of the timbers? 

But he had never told Silks that, had he.  And he could, now.  He could have the chance to say it again. 

"It's an awful long way, to the city."

"I haven't seen him since the promotion."

"You'd be leaving the boy."

"I know it."

"Do you?"

"I do know it, Eddy."

"Took you how long to answer a simple letter?  How long would you plan on staying?  Til he was well?  Til the dark took him?"

What a bitter kick in the chest, the fury rising up inside him so hard it makes his eyes water.  "Silks isn't going to die.  He didn't die in that damn fire and he won't now."

"If'n you go, Birch, I'll drive you to the station.  But you'll tell Lufty and Monroe and the lads, and most of all, young Cleary, where you're off to."

Lufty, he knows, will understand.  Lufty and Monroe both, are men who have swallowed smoke and coughed out grief in spatters on the sidewalk, ribs heaving under the weight of it.  Josiah was not the first fireman to be ground hard in the blaze's splintering teeth, he will not be the last. 

Though some days he feels as if he is the only fool to lose a brother by his own carelessness and greedy fury.  Fool, to lie shattered, dry and cracked and thirsty for the safe embrace of brick walls and floorboards that creak with midnight steps and men who roll over in starched sheets and roll over again.  Fool that Silks had sat for, holding the hand without the needle, speaking to him from far away through the ether and the lazy dream-fields of poppies and long sunshine.

But the boy, god, the boy. 

Whatever he does, he can't spare the boy.  Would that he could.  For his sear to have broke before his voice, the boy ought to be allowed to live a life of perfect grace, running the field with the lads and catching perch down in the pond, every line charged, every ladder strong, every jake out clear. 

Silks or Davey, he thinks, what'll it be, what choice do I have?

The sun sprawling across the yard has taken on the keener brass of springtime - the snow is still deep, the ice still thick enough to drive a double hitch onto, but the turn of the earth is winning out as she always does.  The lads sweat at their work - Lufty and Monroe have let ladders and ropes ice overnight, and each exercise begins with a clamor of ideas on how to handle the frozen gear.  Bertram and Jules are keen to lead, while Kitson, Jacob, and Lee, the newest lot, scamper about and skitter like fawns.  How funny, to see from the broad steps, that Davey knows nearly as much as a half-year, though he has not the strength yet.  He will, though.  There is an awkward, coltish grace about him.  Something he has not grown into.  Josiah woke one night when the sky was half-silver with stars and Davey was standing in his quarters like a ghost-child, the sear singing in their bones.  A long way to grow, that one.  A long, fine way.

Lufty catches him after lunch.  Lufty is harder at the edges, often, than Eddy has ever been.  Even when Josiah was still stiff about the collar in his new kit, Eddy was all bluff, and quick to mild.  Eddy would brawl for any jake among them.  Lufty was tougher to read, even after he was on the boards.  Lufty Parker was burned once, and badly, in a fire at the piers in Chelsea.  His scars creep up the side of his neck, and cup the back of his head like a brief and tender lover.  They invite no dormitory tales, only an edgy kind of sorrow.  Josiah had heard, in his rook year, that three men had plunged into the East River, but just one had come up.  The oakbellies, he had been told, had tried to make Lufty a captain, and he'd refused to show up for the ceremony.  They'd tried to make him a battalion chief, and he'd hopped the first train to Troy. 

So he had been told.

But Lufty knows the white rooms and white coats at Bellevue and the casualty ward.

"There's not no happy choice to make, Birchy," Lufty says to him in his office.

 "It's just not gonna be so.  That said, it's not about if you goes, I think, it's about if you're coming back."

"You think I won't?"

"I know you will.  But it's not me what needs convincing."

Josiah sighs.  His leg is tight, aching, and he ought to stretch it out.  But he's afraid if he ventures out now, he'll run into Davey, breathless with some discovery.  "What am I supposed to say to him, Luft?"

"To Silks or the boy?"

"Either one."

"I couldn't say.  When I went into the river, I thought we'd all come out.  We had a fire at our heels and the river below us, and the last thing I remember before spitting up black water on the cobbles was Matty taking my elbow and Tom saying it'd be alright."

He's never heard this story, not from Lufty's taut lips and clenched teeth, so he stills like a boy in church and lets the old memory - the smell of creosote, and the greasy river, the snapping pilings and the blinding smoke - shiver on the air and fall as motes of golden dust.  The worst was not the plunge, was it, but the waking.

Alone. 

It's going to hurt them both, but crueler for the boy.

After Lufty leaves him to his battered thoughts, he sits at his desk until the dusk unravels into night.  The dinner mess bell clangs.  The lads thunder about downstairs like wild horses, shouting, stampeding.

He ought to get up now, go to the kitchens, get a bite.  Eddy is always after him to put something more than gristle and spite on his bones.  He plants his hands on his desk, ready to make the effort to stand, when of a sudden Davey's there, in the door.

Josiah has a good look at him, now, under the humming electrics.  Still too thin, for his widening shoulders.  Hair in need of a trim or at least a comb.  (He tries to do it like Bertram Cochrane, slicking the sides down, but the loose black curls are springing free by midday).  A tear in the shoulder of his shirt fixed by clunky, deliberate stitches.  A boy exuberantly ragged at the end of a long day. 

"Capper.  You weren't at mess."

Josiah pins a smile to the corner of his mouth like he means it.  "Eddy send you up?"

"No sir."

"I'll be down soon."

The boy hesitates.  "Capper?  Are you angry?"

"No.  Why would you say?"

"You been up here all day, Capper, that's all.  Eddy said - well I think he said, maybe I just thought of something he did say, you know, the sear said he - well you know.  Eddy's sear is so bright sometimes.  I forget.  Eddy said you used to get your hackles up and hide out in your quarters all day."

Josiah chuckles softly.  "He's right.  I did.  I'm not angry, m'son."

"What's wrong, then?"

"Come sit."  There is not gonna be no happy choice, said Lufty.  And there won't be, but he'd be crueler not to tell the boy. 

Davey comes round to his desk and pulls up a chair, as he does when they read and talk, about things Josiah knows - like radio manuals and floorplans and exit strategies - and things that Davey knows, like checkers and poems and music.  "I told you 'bout my pal, Silky.  You remember, his letters."

"Yes sir."

"He saved my life.  Before I was a captain."

"I dream that sometimes.  Like you know about the lake.  And Liddy."

Josiah picks up a pen and twirls it over the blotter.  His chest is tight, like breathing through a wet kerchief.  "Davey, Silky's very sick.  We got a telegram from his captain."  He takes a deep breath, pushing through it, like crawling under thick smoke, palming every door.  "He's in the hospital in the city."

Davey watches him through a child's lashes with eyes that pierce him like a brother.  Josiah longs for a horse between them, the calming stroke of the soft brush on the soot-dappled back.  He longs for the darkness between bunks, staring at the ceiling.  In the low, fragile light, Josiah sees the dampness welling up in Davey's eyes.  It is too hard to hide. 

Davey knows already.  He is biting his lip, as if he is already a young man. While he lay in a Bellevue bed, a needle in one arm, Silky had bent over the other, murmuring.  Josiah, from his awkward seat with his bad leg locked in its brace, leans forward in one great surge and takes the boy in his arms and holds him tight.  As close as his nightmares, as tight as his memories.  "I will come back.  I will, Davey, I promise you.  I'll come back."

The child's stumbling sear is a raw mess of questions, frantic as birds beating their wings against a low-slung slate-clouded sky.  He is crying.  Good, Josiah thinks.  Good that grief be open. 

"You promise," Davey whispers at last, hoarse with a sob and muffled deep into his chest.  "You got to promise, Capper."

"Promise. I promise, I promise.  As sure as I can't run, m'son, I promise I will come home."

[naireides]

under the sheets (we’re safe here)

catradora featuring my inherent need to write my ships cuddling together and forgiving one another

rated G | wc: 1.7k

read it on ao3

For so long the end of the war has seemed like a pipe dream to the Rebellion. A never ending battle until She-Ra showed up, a glimmer of hope in these trying times, and managed to pull them towards the end.

And though they emerged victorious, it’s bittersweet at best.

It’s whiplash to go from fighting for their lives to just simply being able to just be, and it leaves many people lost and confused. The Horde did a number on Etherea, wreaking havoc across the planet. Cities and towns and even entire kingdoms were brought to their knees during the war. Families were torn apart and lives were ruined. Thousands dead, thousands missing and thousands more injured. Then, like the flick of a switch, it all came to an end. And many who survived don’t know what’s next.

Hell, Adora doesn’t even know what’s next. She feels like she doesn’t know anything anymore, not after being blindsided with new information at every turn.

But, if it’s one thing she does know, it’s that the war is over and she is tired.

The hard packed dirt floor of the tent isn’t made any less comfortable by the thin bedroll, but Adora still groans when her body collapses onto it. Her entire body aches down to her bones, and even though she knows that thanks to She-Ra’s powers she’s never really injured when she reverts back to her normal self, it still feels like she got run over by a tank.

She can’t remember the last time she had a proper rest. Maybe on the spaceship, but even then she had a million things to worry about. A hundred year old ship falling apart at the seams, Horde Prime’s clones trying to take them out, asteroids, fuel shortages… Catra.

Adora sits up, bracing her weight on her forearms, and she looks towards the tent flap. Catra stands there, fidgeting. Her tail swishes back and forth nervously and she scruffs her foot at the ground. She notices Adora looking over at her and flushes a dull red, ears going flat against the sides of her head.

Adora offers her a soft smile.

“What are you doing all the way over there?” she asks.

“I--” she fumbles, not knowing what to say.

Adora shifts and pats the space next to her before holding out her hand. “C’mere.”

Catra balks but then she takes it, allowing her to pull her into her space.

The bedroll is barely big enough for the two of them and she finds herself pressed against her: shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip, knee to knee. She can feel Catra’s tail flicking anxiously between them, brushing against her skin.

It’s not the first time they’ve shared a sleeping space together. It’s not the first or the second or even the twentieth. Adora grew up with Catra. When they were young they used to nap together all the time and then, as cadets, more often than not she’d wake up with Catra curled into a ball at her feet. It was nice, comforting.

Now Catra is tense next to her, her breaths coming quick and shallow.

Adora hesitates for just a brief moment before she reaches out beneath the covers and takes her hand, her thumb ghosting over her knuckles. She hears her breath catch.

“It’s over,” she murmurs into the still darkness of the tent. It’s twilight and the heavy tarp does a good job at keeping out the setting sun’s rays. Around them she can hear the sounds of the Rebellion-- the clink of weapons as they’re packed, whispers of conversation flowing past, the crackle of a firepit. It all speaks of hope, of a long awaited freedom. “It’s all over. We won.”

“Yeah,” sighs Catra, “We won.”

Her voice sounds off and when Adora lifts her head to get a better look at her, she turns her face away.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Catra.”

She sighs and slides her hand out of hers, leaving it suddenly cold. “I just-- It feels like after everything that I’ve done, I shouldn’t get to be…” her voice trails off, soft and heartbreaking, and Adora can’t help but curl closer to her body.

“That you shouldn’t get to be happy?” she says, soft.

Catra flinches away. “Yeah.”

“Well, you’re wrong,” she says firmly, twisting her body until she’s halfway on top of her, forcing her to look at her face. “You should be happy. You deserve to be happy.”

Her eyes are glassy, emotion barely restrained behind them. “I was a Force Captain back in the Horde. I helped Horde Prime almost take over Etherea.” Her eyes screw shut, anguish painting every single one of her features, and it makes Adora’s heart ache. “I’ve hurt so many people, innocents, your friends… you.”

Ever so gently, Adora rests her palm against Catra’s face, her thumb stroking the sharp line of her cheekbone. She has freckles, tiny specks that stand out against her skin just like stars. And just like the stars, their beauty still manages to take Adora’s breath away. “I’ve forgiven you for that,” she tells her as she cups her cheek, “I’ve forgiven you for all of those things, Catra. You’re a good person. And I know it might be a while until you can forgive yourself but… you deserve to be happy.”

Her eyelids flutter open, eyelashes brushing against her fingertips. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness.”

“Forgiveness isn’t about what you deserve,” Adora tells her softly, “It’s about what you need.”

Catra watches her for a moment before licking her lips. “I need you,” she says, lowly. The admission hangs heavy in the air around them and she takes a minute to savour it.

For as long as she’s known Catra, she’s never once said that she’s needed anyone. She views vulnerability as a sign of weakness and while Adora knew that back then, back at the Horde, they had each other’s backs, Catra never once said that she needed her. 

The words make something warm bloom deep inside her, feeling like bottled sunshine that just spilled all over the place.

“I need you too,” she says, leaning her head against hers so that their foreheads pressed together. “I’ve always needed you. You were my best friend. My person.”

“And you’re mine,” Catra murmurs, just before Adora leans all the way down and presses her lips against hers.

Kissing Catra always feels like getting hit with a stun gun, but in a good way. Unlike their first kiss which was messy and sloppy, filled with an intensity that could probably never be matched again-- CatrasavedherCatradidn’tgiveuponherCatralovedher-- this one was softer, calmer. A lazy slide of lips against each other that spoke of nothing but time between them and she can’t help but sigh in content.

It’s only the second time she’s kissing her and yet there’s a certain familiarity between them, an understanding that spans miles and lifetimes. 

When she pulls back, her eyes are soft and half lidded and Adora can’t help but giggle, dropping a sloppy kiss to her cheek before rolling off of her. Catra follows of course, and they end chest to chest, limbs intertwined. If she listens closely, she can hear the soft purring sound coming from her chest accompanied by its vibrations. Her tail wraps around her ankle, easy and warm, grounding her to her.

It’s nice.

“What do we do now?” Catra asks after the silence begins to get too stifling.

Adora shifts and brushes her hair out of her face, laughing quietly when she huffs and swats at her hand. She hates to think about what happened to Catra on Horde Prime’s ship, but her hair… her hair was a nice look. 

“What do you want to do?” she shoots back at her.

Catra rolls her eyes. “Can never give me a straight answer, can you?” she grumbles fondly.

“I just think it’s a valid question,” she says in return.”But if you really want an answer, then it’s rebuilding I guess.”

Catra is quiet for a long moment, long enough that she begins to think that she’s fallen asleep, and then, “Do you think I could help?”

“Of course you can help.”

“No I mean--” she turns so that she could really look at her, and then huffs. “The Horde is responsible for most of the destruction. I’m responsible for most of it. What if… what if destroying things is all I’m good at?”

Her voice wavers on the end of it a little bit, her insecurities peeking through, and Adora reaches for her hand. She interlaces their fingers, letting it rest between them.

“It is not,” she reassures her, “You can do so much more than that.”

“What if they don’t want me in their villages?”

“Then we’ll go to another village.”

“What if the other villages don’t trust me?”

“Catra.” She catches her gaze and holds it steady until the worry and guilt swirling around in her eyes settle. “You’re right, maybe things won’t go smoothly, maybe it might be terrible at it or maybe people won’t trust you. And we can spend all night going through hypotheticals and coming up with the worst case scenarios. But you’ve changed. You’ve helped us all. You’ve helped me when I needed it most, and I trust you. I believe in you.”

It gets a small sniff out of her and if Adora squints, she can just make out the redness of her cheeks in the dark.

Catra sighs. “Okay.”

“We have a long road ahead of us,” she murmurs, tucking her face into her neck and breathing her in. “There’s a lot of things that need to be done, things that need to be fixed. But for now we sleep.”

Catra just grunts and then, tentatively, she lays her arm across her waist, delicately at first and then, when Adora doesn’t say anything, she lets the full weight of it press into her, letting out an exhale.

“I love you,” she mumbles up towards the tent roof, her voice nothing but a whisper in the night.

Adora still hears it though and she can’t help the giddy flush that rises to her cheeks, the smile that threatens to split her face wide open.

Her lips brush against that spot on Catra’s neck, not quite kissing her but just resting them there, because she could. She can feel the way her pulse is racing beneath her skin. The hand that’s tangled in hers squeezes it tenderly.

“I love you too,” she says in return, and feels the way her body relaxes into hers.

The war is over today and tomorrow they will start to rebuild, but for now, Adora just holds on to Catra and finally, they both sleep.

[diegolabhont]

The beginning

Book: Queen B - Choices (Universe) 

Pairing: Zoey Wade x Trans!Male MC (Beck Hughes) & Poppy Mid-Sinclair  x Trans!Male MC  (Beck Hughes)

(Keep reading please, I have an explanation)

Genre: None (in this post, al least)

Rating: Anyone can read it, really.

Tags: @nevermindme-justreading

SO... here´s the thing:

This is me trying to write by and for the Trans community, specially FTM community, meaning, trans guys, but I actually took the liberty to use They/them pronouns for everyone out there who´s interested (Also, the name Beck was the most neutral one I could find, trying to use the cannon Bea Hughes) Beck is a trans latin guy, but you´ll see about that as the story takes off. This is just the presentation for the MC. Sorry

Now, about the PAIRING... I, as a writter, didn´t want to loose the opportunity to writte for my Queen Zoey and my other Queen Fic!Poppy (I SWEAR THAT´S NOT BECAUSE SHE´S ASIAN) so I will be using the same character to both, kinda like choices style, kinda. If you have any comment, PLEASE BE RESPECTFULL and patient with me. This is also my first english fanfic and english is not my mother language, so... i´m sorry fo the grammar errors. Also, I don´t live in the US so sorry if it´s a little bit weird.

CHAPTERS

Chapter one 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Belvoire University. That´s where they were. During all of those years of hard work and hidden passion for music after heavy and demanding tasks back in the family farm, the last thing Beck Hughes thought would happen to them were getting a full scholarship for a music and composition major in one of the most prestigious institutions all over New York and they were truly, truly grateful. If you ask them, the view in here was too flashy for their simple taste, but they couldn´t complain, after all, they did have one of the best music programs at their disposition.

In the meantime, they were walking through campus feeling oh so in home. The gazes of the students around fixed on them as if Beck was some kind of alien in this glamorous and wealthy world. Beck didn´t care honestly. Too long ago they got used to teasing, to comments behind Beck´s back, to be judged for banal and superficial things. At least nobody was being dangerous. That´s why they walked with confidence and upright posture, feeling the strap of their guitar case dangle across their shoulder through his leather jacket. Maybe that bored and unimpressed expression they put up to pretend was the one to blame for the ruckus, especially when they clearly didn´t belong there, or maybe it was Beck´s second hand clothes, they didn´t know, but all that stopped mattering when their fear to be inside of a school drama came true the moment in which a noisy blonde bumped into their way.

At first they didn´t understand the magnitude of the problem, why was a simple coffee such a big deal? All the blonde girl had to do was move her lazy ass and ask for another one to herself instead of yelling to this poor girl just like a Karen. Yes, it was naïve of Beck to believe that they could interfere to peace the waters; the only thing he got was to bring all the fury from the banshee imitator right at them. Well, at least the first victim looked a bit more relaxed.          

“Who the fuck do you think you are to talk to me like that?!” She yelled “Do you have any idea of who am I?”

No, who cares?

“I´m…”

“Oh, sweetheart, you don’t have to worry about who she is. But you should worry about who I am”

Beck heard a voice talking right next to them, but again… Who. Cares? People was staring still; can we all just forget everything or doing a raincheck? Beck snorted with annoyance while turn around to face the new combat player logging in.

“Come on, tag along, shall we? Let’s acknowledge everybody’s name! The guy in the back, who are you? Who are everyone? I totally care!”, he thought for a split second, but their brain stopped working completely to the sight of a stunning and beautiful strawberry blonde standing right in front of them. He didn’t even notice how everyone was deadly quiet.

“Shit, she´s gorgeous…”

“And I’m about to become your first and last memory of Belvoire University”

Aaaand… she ruined it. Beck let out a chuckle, a challenging, mocking smile on his face.

“Is that a threat?”

Please, there was no possible way she could do anything to make them back down. Nothing. It took two steps from Beck to close the distance between them and the strawberry blonde, leaning gracefully to poke fun at the noticeable height difference. The girl didn´t back down neither, accepting the challenge with a murderous, threating look.

“You won’t last a day here”

Oh, that how it´s going to be, I see…

“I'm a trans person in a conservative, religious town… Try me”

Blonde´s face was a poem. The surprise so clearly drawn on her face that they could see exactly how her brain stopped, looking up and down Beck, astonish, processing the information, … “Ow, I broke her” They thought, amused. People were completely eating all up the show, Beck could feel every eye on the interaction, what was going on in this school? Fuck, where did they got into?

“Look, I gotta go. If you find something clever to say, just text me, a ‘right?” Said Beck, very willing to leave.

“Rude!”

Squawked Young Karen.

“Oh, snap. New Dude´s not backing down!” said someone.

They didn´t even care, Beck kept walking without looking back and they would be considerably far if not to a hand clawing back their free shoulder.

“How you dare—!“

“Hey, Beck! Look at the time, we gotta go!”

A girl shows up from nowhere, took his arm and pulled them out of the commotion, running away as if a bear were behind them. Seriously, what the hell? The girl, that finally looked like the danger was gone, stopped right in front of a large and fancy door and slammed her keycard against some kind of sensor.

“Wish the circumstances were different, but welcome to de Winfrey dorm complex, AKA your new home!

She was agitated, naturally, but was until that moment that Beck had the chance to look at her with more detail… Gosh, are really all the ladies here that pretty? What´s in the water? Her hair, her eyes, those lips... She was completely flawless, a breath taking beauty.

Feeling confused and intrigued, Beck stumbled inside looking around in awe. Just a fraction of that room looked even more expensive than their own home!

“So… you are my… counselor or something?” they asked, the gorgeous girl looking too young to be one, though. She then cracked up a smile and a little chuckle.

“Beautiful”

“Starting with the wrong foot here and there, don´t you?” She grinned back to they and all the things Beck could feel was embarrassment and a beating heart making heat on their face. “You got out of that one alive. Barely.” She said, looking concerned once again, the laughing disappeared from those cute eyes. “How are you feeling?”

“Honestly… You´re gorgeous” A slight blush appeared on her cheeks, alarming Beck.

“Did I just…”

“…Is what I was thinking, but did I just say it out loud?” I hate me, I hate me, I hate me…

“You did, and you´re absolutely, positively right. I´m Zoey Wade, your roomie…”

Oh, so she has a name… wait a minute…

“You´re my roomie?” Beck asked taken aback, what does this means? They felt restless, kind of anxious. It´s this even allowed or the school was acting based on...

Zoey seemed to understand the internal fight in their mind because she immediately clarified.

“You don´t have to worry, this kind of dorms tend to be mixed so it´s kinda normal. Besides I check your info on The T and I saw you were LGBT+ so I´m not feeling…”

“My what?” That´s where she realized.

“Oh! Right… Ok, I´ll make it simple. Here there is a whole system here based on reputation.” Zoey took her phone and showed Beck a long numbered list.  Number one and on the top were the same girl they encounter earlier: Poppy Min-Sinclair was there, showing a radiant and flashy perfect smile, next was the banshee named Chloe St James, people, people, people, and low, low into the very bottom, was Beck Hughes… Or we most say “Newbie” Hughes. 

“Y´see... you are the new addition and The T´s been all over you. Specially because… well…” She looked reluctant to say it, but it wasn´t actually bad to Beck. They were used to.

“I don´t belong. Got it”

Beck let the guitar case on the floor, right next to the couch, walking around to see their new place, feeling Zoey´s eyes on them all the time.

“I don’t really care, I came here to have a good time and enjoying my music” and to save my life, basically. “So… mind if you show me some fun?” Said Beck, a little flirty. They were a little insecure, taking their chances… New town, new life, right? The seductive smirk they got back relaxed them a little bit more.

“Oh, Beck… I think we will be getting along just fine.”

[mutatedleemon]

Not Professional | Dr. Robotnik/Agent Stone Fanfic

More than one agent who was sent to Robotnik did not fit him. After a month, at most, they left on their own. It was impossible to work with the doctor. And no one wanted to babysit him.

One day Robotnik received a letter from the government. Oh, this fools trying to control him, sending their people all the time. They never did succeed, and they never will. This time, the agent's name is Stone. Hope he wouldn't stand there like a stone and do nothing like the others.

The doctor chuckled at his own joke.

The new nanny was due to arrive at one o'clock. Minute till one. There was a knock on the door. Robotnik was too lazy to open it, but he had to get up and show this poor man who he would have to work with for the next couple of days until he'll want to leave. The man went to the door and flung it open. A short man with a neat haircut and tidy stubble stood in front of him. He was dressed to the nines. All in black. As if at a funeral. Great.

"Good afternoon, Doctor Ivo Robotnik. I am Agent Stone, and from this day on, I will be your assistant by order of the government."

Too formal.

"Well. I can't do anything about it yet, so let's make a few rules, alright?"

Robotnik leaned against the door. Agent Stone was all attention. He looked directly into the scientist's eyes, without a smile or fear, completely neutral. But there was something friendly in his voice, and Robotnik couldn't tell what it was.

"First of all," he said, moving closer to the newcomer, " don't ever call me by my first name. Just the last name or the Doctor, understood?"

Stone nodded.

"Second of all, do everything I tell you. Never ask me to repeat twice or question my actions and requests. I'm in charge here and what I do is not up for discussion. Clear?"

Stone nodded again.

"Any questions?"

This was followed by another nod and a question.

"Do I need to bring you any food or drinks? Do you have any special preferences?"

Robotnik straightened up and looked at the man with great surprise. Straight to the point, huh? He must have prepared well. But the Doctor was not going to make everything easy for his new nanny. He has to create some difficulties for him to see how well he will cope.

"Surprise me."

That was all he had to say for the agent's face to finally change. No, there was no expected fear. A sudden smile appeared on his face. Not broad, gentle. It's like he's in charge and knows everything. Very confident in himself. Robotnik subconsciously gave this kid the expected maximum. He'll be here for a month. So far, he impresses the scientist.

Robotnik went back to work. He needed to finish his project, by which he was going to build tracking drones armed with special missiles. The speed of drones must exaggerate the average speed of a sports car to be able to keep up with ordinary cars and other public transports, not to mention people and animals. The missiles themselves will have to fit into the drones themselves, so these machines must either be large, which is not very comfortable, or the missiles must be small. If the missiles are small, they can be as fast as bullets. That is, in fact, the missiles that Robotnik will have to use are just large bullets. Well, let's say it works. Now he needs to deal with the technical part of drones. What will make the missiles fly out, how to join the drones to the General management.

Robotnik leaned back in his chair. He needs to collect his thoughts, and then continue to do something. It was difficult to concentrate. The man needs to find something that will help him work. Music? It may help. But what exactly? Hmmm....

A quiet voice spoke from behind.

"Do you need any help? I can offer something."

Robotnik turned around in his chair and faced agent Stone. Had he been standing behind him all this time? Minus one point. But his advice should be used, otherwise the man will never be able to continue working normally and it will take longer than necessary.

"Suggest some music to which I can concentrate and relax."

Agent Stone started thinking. For some reason, he looked around the lab where they were, and then fixed his gaze on his boss. The smile grew on his face again. Robotnik was starting getting annoyed by it, but he didn't show it yet.

"What about Where Evil Grows by The Poppy Family?"

Robonik thought about it for a minute and then turned on his computer. A virtual blue screen surrounded both men. The Doctor began to swipe his finger near the screen in search of a song. Not finding it himself, he ordered the computer to find it itself. A male robotic voice informed his master about the discovery of the song, and then a rhythmic music filled the room, followed by a melodious voice. The song was not in the style of Robotnik. He preferred something sharper and more fun, but this song was quiet and it didn't bother him at all. He liked the lyrics. He liked the fact that it wasn't obtrusive at all. You can work perfectly while listening to it. He didn't want to admit it. The man looked at his assistant, who was dancing lightly to the music, moving his lips as if he were singing along to the performer. Robotnik smiled, but immediately changed his expression to remain neutral and unfriendly.

"Well. I'll see if this song helps."

Agent Stone stopped dancing and looked a little embarrassed at his boss. It wasn't professional. The man hoped his boss will let this moment slide and won’t punish him for loving this song.

"Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"Yes. Bring me coffee."

The agent froze. He didn't know what kind of coffee Robotnik preferred. His words flashed through man’s mind. "Surprise me". He swallowed. This task must have been his decisive one. He must prove to his employer that he is worthy of this job and can really be needed. He never managed to stay anywhere for long. He always did everything right, but no one was happy with him. He was quite qualified for any job. Stone was one of the best agents. Maybe that's why he was introduced to the Robotnik, but it seemed more like they were trying to dump all the dirty work on him and get rid of him. He was an outcast. All the agents were making fun of him. He doesn't have any friends or even anyone he gets along with. Even if at first glance it seems that he is the best In the field. Maybe that's why they didn't like him. But he doesn't want to be arrogant. Stone just thought they didn't like him.

And he knew that the government was thinking the same thing about Dr. Robotnik. They would rather get rid of him for good, but they can't afford it. He's the best. He's a genius. All the tasks that were given to him were performed perfectly. He's smart and capable. Even if people hate him with all their heart, they can't lose someone so useful for them. This raised the Robotnik's self-esteem. Stone knew a lot about him. Of course, he couldn't come empty-handed, and even if he did, he always had something up his sleeve. He's not stupid, either. He had heard various things from agents who used to work for the Doctor. For the most part, they were complaining. Well, all they said were complains. Robotnik asks a lot. He needs constant attention. He needs help, even if he doesn't admit it. He needs someone who will look at him and his decisions from the side, so that he is not the only one who makes all the decisions. He can't do that. Even if his IQ is the highest in the world, his brain is mocking himself.

He also likes lattes. But it must be prepared in a special way.

Agent Stone nodded and left. As soon as the door closed behind him, Robotnik put the song back on and went back to work. Oh, it was perfect. The head was working properly. And at the same time, the man enjoyed the song. After three repetitions of this song, he finished with the writings and sketches of the drones. He held the blueprint up in front of his face and began to spin in his chair, examining his work. He was happy with The outcome. Now all he needs to do is prepare an automated mechanism that will build the drones themselves and then test them. Great. But how many drones will he need?

Agent Stone came into the lab with a cup of coffee in his hand. Almost at the very edge of the top of the cup was a froth with a latte drawing on it. There was a snail. How lovely. The doctor didn't like snails. They were too slow, and he liked speed. But the drawing was very neat and it was a nice bonus to the drink.

”I’ve heard you prefer a special kind of latte - with steamed Austrian goat milk. So I’ve made you one.”

Robotnik looked at the Agent with wide eyes. No, he had no way of knowing what kind of latte he liked. The man got up from his chair and walked over to his assistant. He picked up his coffee and took a cautious sip. The temperature is perfect. It's not too hot, but it's not cold either. The milk is perfectly warmed. The coffee isn't too bitter and it still feels good. He looked up slowly at the agent. For the first time nervous, huh? Make fun of him or just compliment him for doing a good job? Difficult decision. He chose the first one.

"Shit."

He could see how all the hope had left the agent's little body. He wasn't nervous now. He was just disappointed. He is disappointed in himself. It didn't work out. Wow, this is the first time Robotnik has seen an agent sent to him get upset about something. Others did everything as they could and did not try to somehow adjust to the Doctor. If they did not succeed, they did not particularly attach importance to it. But this agent. He isn’t like everyone else. He wants the job.

"How could no one think of making coffee like you did? I like how you made it."

He turned away from the man, seeing the relief on his face and the return of hope out from the corner of his eye. He smiled.

~

"We need you there. This is an emergency."

"Yes, of course you need me."

Robotnik leaned on his work desk and looked with a malicious grin at the representatives of the state who were calling him via video. Their wrinkled foreheads were even more wrinkled, because they frowned, without a single drop of pleasure or friendliness, while they talked to the Doctor. They said nothing in reply.

"But I have something that I will use during the task. You won't like it."

They looked at each other, preparing for new surprises from Robotnik. He spread his arms and red lights flickered in the dark corners of his laboratory. It's time to test the glove with the built-in console and his creations. The lamps began to move and flew out of the corners. The light appeared to be drones in the form of eggs. They were neatly constructed of white and black metal. In the middle of each was a huge eye. It was burning red. They looked as if they had scanners and lasers built into them. This was true, but the government could not confirm it yet. Robotnik went an extra mile creating this kids. They were perfect. And he liked it.

An old man, who looked like he was a general, wiped his suddenly sweating forehead with the back of his palm. Another man started coughing. Others watched in horror as the drones hovered in the air.

"I told you you won’t like it."

"We don't want you to use... this"

The main man waved his hands at the drones. Robotnik turned to look at them, theatrically frustrated, and then again on the government.

"Well, so be it."

His interlocutors were pleasantly surprised. The problem is fixed.

"Really?", asked the woman sitting in the farthest corner of the table. Robotnik's smile widened.

"Of course not. As if you could ever order me to do or not to do anything."

He laughed wickedly, waved them good-bye, and before they could say anything to him about it, turned off the video call.

"Doctor?"

Robotnik turned at the voice. Agent Stone was standing at the entrance to the lab. He looked at the flying drones with pure horror. The doctor pressed a button in the middle of his palm with his middle finger, and the drones returned to their places on the shelves, then walked over to his agent.

"Any problems, agent Stone?"

The man hesitated for a second, then shook his head and handed a fresh latte to his boss.

"I just thought you'd like to have a little latte with steamed austrian goat milk right now"

Robotnik smiled. And he didn't hide it this time. It's made Stone to stop shaking from terror and freeze. He hadn't seen Robotnik smile yet. Well, he saw him smile and laugh because something had worked out the way he wanted and he was incredibly proud of himself. But he never smiled at Stone. Maybe the Agent is finally doing something right.

"Of course I want a little latte, I love how you make it!", exclaimed Robotnik and snatched the cup from the man's hands before noticing that he had another cup.

"Did you make one for yourself?"

Agent Stone looked at his cup, then at his boss, and nodded.

"Then I'll offer to join me for coffee," the Doctor purred, " if you don't think it's "not professional" or something."

The agent was a little shocked at first, but then he walked deeper into the lab with a smile. They sat and drank coffee, talking about technology, about government, and, for the most part, about Robotnik. The doctor got tired of it at some point.

"Tell me about yourself, Stone. I hardly know you, and you've already broken the records of every other agents. You've been with me for a year, haven't you?"

Agent Stone nodded. He didn't know what he could or couldn't say. The man decided not to think about it and just continue as if he was not talking to his boss, but to... a friend.

"Well... I've been working for the government since I was 18... ", the Agent said quietly. Robotnik almost choked on his coffee.

"How old are you?! Thirty-something?!"

Stone nodded and began to laugh, watching the Doctor's face change from surprise to utter shock. How could he not turn completely crazy with that kind of management? How does he stand it? Why did he come here at all, he had so many good options, and he decided to wipe the ass of the government and the people that the same government sends him to. He's their errand boy! For about twenty years! Without a single promotion! Is it fair? Not at all! Yes, Robotnik thought so. It was enough for him to respect Stone a little more.

"And because of this, I never had much time for my personal life. I always worked. Of course, with a little vacations, but not that they will be enough for a personal life”, Stone shrugged.

Robotnik leaned back in his chair.

"Do you ever relax?"

"And you?"

Robotnik tilted his head to the right and looked at Stone with a face that said just how much of a jerk he was. Stone laughed again. The Doctor put his empty cup on the table and got up from his chair.

"Computer, turn on Where Evil Grows."

The familiar song began to play at full volume. Stone looked at the Robotnik who held out his hand. What's that supposed to mean?

"Get up before I change my mind."

Stone gave him his hand and the doctor lifted him out of the chair, putting him in a dancing position. The man was blushing. What's happening? What was in that coffee? It seems that he added everything correctly... Milk, espresso, no more additives. But why does Robotnik asks him to dance? With him? Stone must be dreaming. Not that he dreamed about it, no! Well, maybe.

Stone gave Robotnik his other hand and the Doctor led the dance. He moved in rhythm with the music, almost pulling the agent along. It would seem that it would be much easier for Stone to do something like this, but right now he is dancing as if his legs are giving out and he is a seal on cocaine. He couldn't do it at all.

"Come on, agent Stone, get a grip and dance with me!", Robotnik tried to shout over the music.

His words made Stone calm down a little and start dancing just a little better. He tried not to show that he would faint if the doctor pulled him any closer. It's enough that the man is holding his hands. Something clenched in his chest. He tried to hide his gaze from the Doctor and stared down, concentrating on the steps so that he wouldn't accidentally step on his boss's feet. Robotnik couldn't stand it. He released one of his hands and took man’s chin, lifting his head up.

"Look at me."

Stone didn't lower his head again. He just couldn't. He froze. The dance stopped as soon as the song changed. Robotnik ordered the computer to turn off the music. The machine obeyed its master.

"You really don't know how to relax, do you?"

The agent wilted. He didn't know how to answer. He was ashamed. Not that it was on the list of what was expected of him. He never thought that he would have to dance with his boss in an attempt to relax.

"Answer me, Stone. Say something."

The scientist's voice was beginning to sound irritated. Why is he mad at him? What should he do with it now?

"I don't have anything to say in my defense."

"That's not what I wanted you to say, Stone. Free."

Robotnik pointed to the exit. The agent wanted to reassure his boss, but remembered in time that he was not allowed to do so and left the lab. The door closed. Robotnik walked over to his desk, where there still stood two empty cups of coffee. He threw both of them off the table, smashing them, and then leaned on the table.

"What did I expect?"

~

Dark. Very cold.

The drones returned to their places. The door to the lab swung open and the owner stepped inside. His face was covered with bruises, and his cloak was torn in several places. His usually neatly styled hair were disheveled. He sank into his chair and laid his head on the table, covering it with his hands. He began to shake. The task was as always solved perfectly. He received his payment. But it was complicated. As always. Everything hurt. Head throbbed. Ears were ringing. Robotnik wanted to just die on the spot, so that he would feel better.

At this point, it would be nice to hear Stone's pleasant and gentle voice. But for the first time, he was not behind him.

"Stone...", mumbled Robotnik in an attempt to call his assistant.

No one answered.

"Stone, I need your help...", the man said a little louder.

No answer. Great. His head was shutting down. He couldn't relax, but he was very sleepy. He succumbed to weakness and fell asleep on the spot.

Somewhere in the middle of the night, he awoke to the fact that someone was in the laboratory. The man was wearing a blanket, his torn coat was on the second chair, and on the table was a thermos that smelled of coffee and a wound cream. The coffee will stay warm until morning. Stone must have done it. No one else will take care of Ivo like this.

"Thank you...", Robotnik whispered sleepily and immediately fell asleep.

The door closed. ~

"Good morning, Doctor."

Agent Stone entered the lab. This time he didn't have any coffee with him, since it was already on the boss's Desk. The man wasn't awake yet. He looks awful. He needs to be woken up.

"Dr. Robotnik? Wake up, you need to be cleaned up."

The man turned his head in the direction of his agent and opened his eyes. He was still very sleepy and still had an incredible headache. Now the pain in his back was added to everything, because he had fallen asleep in the chair. It wasn't a very comfortable position to sleep in, but at least he could get some rest.

"Where were you when I came? You weren't here and you didn't answer when I called..."

Robotnik’s voice was trembling. He just wanted to be normal with Stone. At least show him that he can work here and it won't be a complete nightmare. He wanted to make him stay. At least him. Everyone always leaves because of what he is... And Stone is different. He's nice. He's understanding. He's always right there, when Ivo needs him to be. Beside him. He has his own opinion, but he really agrees with what Robotnik represents. He's not pretending just to suck up to him and show him how good of an agent he is. He's not just his nanny. He's his friend... Maybe Stone thinks the same about Robotnik. But just maybe. Robotnik isn’t sure.

"Yes, I wasn't here. I was out on business for a while and didn't find you coming, Doctor. Please excuse me..."

The Robotnik straightened up and put his hand on the man's shoulder.

"Don't apologize... You still helped me..."

The doctor nodded at the coffee and the blanket. Stone smiled.

"I'm not sure if I told you this, but... you are better than other human beings."

The agent laughed, forcing the scientist to remove his hand from his shoulder.

"You could just say I'm good, you know that, right?", Said Stone without stoping the laughter.

Robotnik barely got up from his chair. As soon as he got to his feet, he suddenly felt a sharp pain in his knees and would have fallen immediately if Stone hadn't caught him. By hugging.

"Ah..." was the only thing he could say at that moment.

Stone put him back in the chair, still hugging him. It wasn't like he was really hugging him. He just held him like that. But Robotnik would like to hug him. So, as soon as Stone was supposed to let go, the Doctor hugged him back, pulling him closer and forcing him to get on his knees, since it was not comfortable to bend over. Stone gave in to the embrace and lowered his head to Robotnik’s shoulder, turning his face to his neck.

"You didn't think about leaving me, did you?", the doctor asked his assistant.

"I never thought about it," the man said into his neck.

"Are you offended with me for that incomprehensible dance?"

"Should have I? For what?". Stone raised his head and looked into Ivo’s eyes. Their faces were inches apart.

"Perhaps.. Because I didn't give you a chance to start dancing properly... Or because I started it in the first place and I seem to have embarrassed or confused you with it."

"No, I'm not offended... I was upset that I couldn't prove to you what you wanted. I couldn't let you have fun because of my own limits, which I couldn't get out of. You gave me a chance and I didn't take it... I think I really don't know how to relax," Stone replied, "but yeah, you've confused me."

"Damn, sorry, I didn't mean to."

"Since when do you apologize?"

"Jesus, just accept my apologies, I'm not this nice every day!"

Robotnik let go of Stone, but the man didn't move away from him, and he was still very close. Too much. He was all red.

"Are you sick? Why are you all red and so close to me? ", Robotnik asked.

Stone exhaled heavily and moved away from his boss.

Did Robotnik fucked up again?

"I just... you know, your coffee is getting cold in there, and I actually woke you up so that you could patch up and get back to work, not for... well... damn it..."

"What is it, Stone?"

Robotnik took his hand. Oh, yes, he's getting soft on the man. It will turn out badly for him later. Or for Stone himself. No one would want to love Robotnik, no, and Robotnik usually doesn't need anyone in that sense. Usually.

Stone wasn't going to pull his hand away. He would like to hold it. He's acting strangely. He shouldn't be acting like this. It's not professional. He is not allowed to do that. It's against the contract. This is against all the rules that Robotnik himself set for him. But every time Stone takes another step closer to Ivo, his heart skips a beat. It's hard for him to breathe. He's shaking. But he doesn't show it. That dance helped him understand that. The hug confirmed everything he thought. He wants to be around. But he doesn't know if he can.

"I just... I don't understand anything anymore, Doctor..."

Robotnik gently lifted Stone's head and placed his hand on his cheek. The man leaned against it like a cat. Stone was shaking. He likes Robotnik. And the doctor sees it now. Very clearly. He still couldn't believe it. He couldn't believe that Stone existed in his life at all. Ideal. He never fails Robotnik.

Stone. Stone. Stone. He is the only person Ivo has ever thought of. He is always in his head.

His voice. His smile. His hands touching Robotniks shoulders and back. His eyes looking right into his soul and seeing there...

A loved one.

Ivo. Only Ivo was able to melt Stone’s heart. He was always so right. Normal. Always followed the rules. When he came to this job, he did not expect it to be so much fun, not at all usual. Uniquely. Great. He's great. He's beautiful. Maybe people don't think he's good, maybe he's really a bad guy. But he is sensitive, he has his own way of communicating, his own humor, his own universe. Which Robotnik let Stone into. Holding hands. By looking him in the eyes.

His voice. His smile. His hands holding him. The eyes full with brilliant ideas looking at his agent. Only his agent, and nobody else’s. His Stone.

"You don't need to understand anything, Agent Stone. Everything is very, very unclear. Always."

Robotnik gently pulled Stone and kissed him. The next moment, the man returned the kiss. ~

"Come on, get a grip and dance with me!"

"Quote me again, Stone, and you'll be fired, understood?"

Robotnik tried to keep up with Stone, who led the dance, singing along to the performer. The same song. There's no need for any other.

"As if you're really going to fire me."

The doctor stopped the man.

"Pin yourself to the wall."

Stone obeyed and stood against the wall as if the Robotnik had pinned him there. The man walked over to his assistant, not respecting personal space. It didn't exist for him. He examined him. The fool isn't afraid of him. And it is necessary. He seemed relaxed.

"Don't underestimate me, little man. I can do a lot more than you can imagine."

"I know."

"I don't think so. You're too relaxed, Stone, You becoming disrespectful, and you need To be punished for it."

Stone smiled. This is not what Robotnik wanted. He flushed at the sound of it. The agent wanted to respond to this, but the man seemed to know that he would continue to mock him. He came closer. Their noses touched.

"If you don't like it, I'll just lock you in the kitchen and you'll never stop making me lattes and nothing else."

Silence.

They both started laughing at how stupid the situation was.

Stone reached for Robotnik’s lips and gave him a brief, tender kiss. This did not satisfy the man. He pressed Stone back against the wall and returned the kiss passionately and rudely. Stone's legs buckled. He couldn't stand properly and didn't know what to do. He needed air, but he didn't want to break away from the kiss. At some point, he still had to do it to avoid fainting, but as soon as he took one breath, Robotnik began to kiss him again, now not only on the lips, but also going further down to the neck, holding him by the waist.

"Ivo!"

Robotnik raised his head and looked at Stone's flushed face.

"Not so cocky now, huh?"

Stone turned away and covered his mouth with his hand. What a shame.

[wlw-in-space]

Can you do one where little Luthor and baby Danvers are best friends but then gets kidnapped and Kara Alex and Lena needs to find them! Thank you! Love your stories

warnings: violence, kidnapping, blood

this one is really long -ah, i’m sorry

You woke up with a bag over your head and tied to a chair.

Panic set in immediately, but you took in what you could of your surroundings.

Someone’s forearm was touching yours, they were sitting beside you.

You could feel a bracelet on their wrist against your skin and immediately knew who it was, recognizing the uniqueness of the jewelry, “Lucie?” You whispered, trying to get your best friend’s attention.

“(Y/n/n)?” She responded quietly, seeming shocked.

“Yeah. Do you know where we are?” Your fingers tried to unknot the rope tied around your wrists.

“No idea, but my head hurts like a bitch,” She groaned softly.

“Mine too,” You grunted and moved your arms to the side to at least try to get her free if you couldn’t free yourself.

“Have you got a bag over your head too?” Lucie inquired as you tried getting her free.

“Yep, can’t see a thing,” Just then you remembered the watch Kara had given you and Lucie, and you mentally facepalmed for not remembering before.

“Lucie, press the button to call Ka - Supergirl,” You caught yourself. Lucie knew, obviously, but you didn’t know if anyone was listening to you guys or if you were being recorded, so you spoke very quietly.

“You’re a genius,” She smiled, even though you couldn’t see it and shuffled to reach your watch the best she could.

It took a good minute, but she was able to press it hard enough that you felt it click, before she closed it, not wanting to cause suspicious if your guys’ kidnappers saw it open.

Then you reached over and pressed the button on hers letting Kara know that the two of you were together.

“You know,” She began. “I’ve been kidnapped with a lot of people, but never with you.”

“We’ve both had our fare share of kidnappings, Lucie,” You chuckled.

The door opening in wherever you guys were made the two of you stop talking.

“Looks like you guys are finally up.” Hearing a voice you never wanted to hear again sent chills up your spine, and you knew damn well Lucie had the same reaction you did.

—

When Kara got both of the alerts seconds apart she knew you’d been kidnapped with Lucie.

She changed into her new Supergirl suit and flew to the DEO while dialing Lena’s number and quickly telling her, “Come to the DEO, (y/n) and Lucie are in trouble,” before hanging up and landing, looking for Alex as soon as her feet touched the ground.

“(Y/n/n) and Lucie both pressed their buttons, Al. They’re in trouble,” Kara was panting a bit from arriving so fast.

“I’ll find out where they are,” Alex’s face showed how panicked she was but she didn’t let that distract her as she pulled up a database on the computer that was tracking the few bracelets Kara had given out.

Brainy opted to help and ushered Alex out of the way.

Lena had arrived very quickly and ran up to Alex and Kara, “Where are they?”

“I’ve picked up a signal from their bracelets just give me three seconds.”

He zoomed in on where you and Lucie were being kept and immediately recognized it. “This is Lex’s old lab.”

“What?” Alex, Kara, and Lena all said in shock simultaneously.

“I said this -“

“No, I heard you,” Kara shook her head, clenching her fists and bouncing on her leg. “Alex, Alex, what do we do?”

“Stop talking,” Brainy quieted Kara, which was seemingly rude but no one cared when they realized why.

On the computer was an audio livestream coming from Lucie’s bracelet.

“A Super and a Luthor, once again,” Lex spoke with a smirk that no one needed to see to know it was there.

“Ever the poet, Lex,” You rolled your eyes. “You know I don’t have powers, why did you even kidnap us? We’re literally no use to you.”

“Are you really that stupid, (Y/n)? It’s -“ Lex was interrupted by you talking.

“Not as stupid as you are,” You said, earning a slap. The sound of it ringing through everyone’s ears as they listened.

“Lex!” Lucie spoke up, stopping him from doing anything else. “What is your problem?”

“The Danvers sisters are my problem,” Lex said with a sickeningly sweet tone for someone who had just slapped you.

“Okay, right, so I don’t mean to be annoying or anything, but they’re not dumb. They know you’re using us as a trap for them,” You deadpanned giving Lex a look, genuinely interested about what the hell he was planning on doing.

“I don’t intend to just hurt them, (Y/n). This is only to hurt you and your sisters. Lucie is just here to watch.”

“Lex, don’t,” Lucie’s voice broke.

“It’s fine,” You interrupted her. If this was going to happen, which you knew it was because your sisters were fast, but you knew they wouldn’t be here until after Lex had accomplished something, at least, so you were going to be an asshole to Lex. Maybe it would make you feel a little better.

“Bring it, Megamind,” You snickered, bracing yourself for the punch he was about to throw.

Brainy paused the live audio and looked up at everyone, “This is happening right now, if we hurry we can hopefully stop Lex before anything too bad happens to (Y/n).”

Lena stood beside Kara breathing heavily, in disbelief that Lex was back, slightly relieved that he didn’t intend on hurting Lucie but terrified fo you.

Alex and Kara were in tears, terrified about all the things that could happen to you.

J’onn and Winn had been listening but hadn’t started to engage in the conversation.

“Agent Danvers,” J’onn called, grabbing Alex’s attention. “I’ve called in a team for you and Supergirl. Go save our girls.”

Alex nodded and got her things but Lena took her arm, “I’m coming with you guys. I can help.”

Kara was about to protest but Alex interrupted her, “Lex doesn’t want to hurt her, Kara. She can go in while we’re fighting him and get them out. Go change, Lena.”

Lena left and returned five minutes later, and since everything was ready, everyone left, Kara flying off as fast as she could to reach you and Lucie.

—

Blood dripped down your chin, dripping onto your clothing. You looked like shit.

Lex had eventually grown bored of inflicting pain on you himself so he called in a few of his goons and separated you from Lucie so she was farther away and allowed them to have at you, punching, kicking, slapping, whatever they pleased.

It was getting really hard to breathe and see.

You were crying but made no noise, refusing to give Lex the satisfaction.

Lucie on the other hand was sobbing loudly, begging Lex to stop hurting you.

You stopped caring after a little bit, staying hopeful that your sisters would rescue you. Everything would be okay, and if you got lucky, you would pass out from the pain.

You winced when a gash opened on your forehead and kicked the man who’d given it to you right in the shin, knowing you were in deep shit anyways.

Luckily, he never had a chance to get back at you for it (although it was more: you getting back at him) because Supergirl came crashing through the glass windows and into the building.

Lex was smirking, and it was weird. He didn’t even care that he got caught. It was odd, but Kara didn’t care, punching him so hard that he flew up out of his chair.

His goons hurried over to Kara, preparing themselves to attempt to shoot her and punch her (stupidly).

Alex and her team busted through the doors right after and took out the goons as Lena snuck in and started to untie Lucie.

You caught Alex’s eye, and she immediately dropped her weapon, letting everyone else take care of Lex’s people (and himself) as she ran over to you with tears in her eyes.

“(Y/n/n),” Alex breathed, pullling a pocket knife out to cut off the ropes holding you down.

Lena and Lucie hurried over together and Alex finished getting you untied before picking you up in her arms, “You’re okay now. Lena and I are gonna fix you up.”

You nodded lazily against Alex’s chest, feeling yourself slip in and out of consciousness slowly.

When you, Alex, Lena, and Lucie made it outside, Alex set you down on the ground of the van, leaning you against the wall.

“Lucie, go get inside the car, please,” Lena said, kissing her on the forehead and watching her go inside the car right next to them.

Lucie was still watching everything they were doing, crying softly, feeling like it was all her fault.

She watched as J’onn pulled a bruised Lex out of the lab in handcuffs and as Kara flew over to you through the window. She opened it, to get a better look, her heart clenching as she saw you unconscious with blood dripping down your face and the amount of bruises you had developed.

Lex was loaded into a different DEO van (they’d taken three vehicles) and that one drove off with him and the team of agents.

J’onn joined Lucie in the car, giving her a tight hug, “She’s going to be okay. The Danvers siblings are very strong people.”

He drove away, leaving Alex, Kara, and Lena to take you back to the DEO. As much as he wanted to stay, he knew that Lucie was not in the mental condition to be able to see you hurt fo much longer and she needed to leave.

—

The girls had decided that Kara would drive the van. There wasn’t exactly much Alex and Lena could do in a moving vehicle to fix up your cuts and bruises anyways, but they did what they could, stopping the bleeding coming from your most recent gash in your forehead and stopping your nosebleed.

A few minutes from the DEO, you regained consciousness and held on to Alex tightly.

“Thank god you’re okay,” Alex exhaled, cradling you in her arms.

“Drink some water, honey,” Lena spoke, guiding a bottle of water to your lips.

You drank half of it at once, panting softly and tasting blood from your bottom lip as you did.

You offered Lena a lazy smile and settled yourself deeper into Alex’s lap, looking up at her tear-stained face, “Don’t cry, Al. I’m okay.”

“You are far from okay, bub,” Alex shook her head, her eyes watering once again, but you took her hand in your own and squeezed it tightly.

“I’m just fine. As long as I have you guys, I’m the strongest girl in the world, even stronger than Kara over there, but don’t tell her I said that,” Your antics made everyone chuckle softly, releasing a bit of the tension in the van.

“Where’s Lucie?” You asked, looking around as much as you could without causing yourself too much pain.

“She went with J’onn,” Lena said. “I could tell Lucie didn’t want to but it was tearing her up, seeing you like this. I’m really sorry -“

“No,” You shook your head, taking Lena’s hand with the hand not holding Alex’s. “Thank you. I would’ve done the same thing. She looked traumatized in there.”

Lena nodded and sighed softly as Kara pulled into the DEO and lept out of the car, picking you up in her arms and kissing the top of your head as she hurried inside.

Alex and Lena followed quickly in pursuit, right behind Kara as she took you to the med bay.

You saw a bunch of familiar faces as she carried you. Lucie’s first, to which you gave her a soft smile, reassuring her that you were totally fine. Then you saw J’onn, Winn, Brainy, Nia, James, even Maggie.

It seemed like they all knew what happened, since they were there, but they seemed shocked to see how battered you looked nonetheless.

Once you reached the med bay, you were placed on the bad and hooked up to a bunch of machines that you didn’t care enough to ask about.

You were able to remember to ask Lena and Alex not to give you anesthetics, knowing how embarrassing you got when you were under them.

Honestly, the pain couldn’t get worse so what did it matter.

Within the next hour, your cuts had been cleaned and stitched, including the one on your forehead to which Maggie said (she’d been in the room while Alex was stitching it for you), “Chicks dig scars, Danvers.”

Eventually someone had convinced Lucie to visit you.

She stood at the doorway, unsure of wether she should come in or not, “Hey.” You smiled.

She smiled back at you and went to sit down beside you, “I’m so glad you’re okay, (y/n/n).”

“Eh, I’m alive,” You smirked.

“You’ve got some nerve talking to Lex the way you did,” Lucie shook her head, slightly annoyed at how you aggravated him on purpose, knowing that you would only get hurt for it.

“Someone had to put him in his place. God, I wish everyone could’ve heard what I said to him,” You laughed, and it didn’t take anything other than hearing you laugh to get her to laugh.

“Well, I think you’re very brave,” Lucie chuckled, winking at you.

“Mhm,” You nodded. “And I’ve got a cool new scar to show for it too.”

“Oh, yeah. Definitely worth it,” She said sarcastically, making the two of you laugh.

“C’mere,” You said, making grabby hands, and scooting as much as you could so Lucie could lay beside you.

She carefully got in, knowing better than to argue with you and pulled you close to her.

“Hey, (y/n)?”

“What’s up?” You asked, drowsily.

“Thanks for being my best friend,” She smiled.

“Duh,” You chuckled. “I’d be so bored without you, dummy.”