#yeah there are probably bugs in night city

[totentnz]

im currently thinking about post game v going on a sort of vacation and being in nature

[yevrosima-the-third]

For the ask game: 1, 11, 18, 24 and 29 :)

- Parlerenfleur

Hey :)

No. 1 - favourite place in my country. Place, place, place. That's hard. Oh right! Sombor. Best town I've been in. Just so beautiful. Going there made me realize why someone would want to stay in one place, in the place they were born in, their whole life.

No. 11 - My favourite native writer/poet is Vasko Popa for sure. He's my favourite poet in general. His poetry feels like a wind that goes through you. In the original at least. Never read any translations

No. 18 - Do I speak with a dialect of my native language - Well yeah. I mean, everyone does, right? But my dialect is like. The one they use on tv. So the most basic one. Still recognisable though. People kinda hate us lol. Hm, sometimes I sound sort of Bosnian because I have some family that's from there

No. 24 - What other nation is joked about most often in my country... You know, I actually have no idea. I know there are jokes about our neighbours, Montenegrins and Bosnians, and I think we joke about Germans. But most joked about? Not a clue

No. 29 - Well my region, or rather, city, doesn't exactly have beef with anyone... Everyone else just kinda hates us lol. I live in the capital of my country, so, yeah, I think that's kinda common - everyone hating the capital. It gets a lot of attention and a lot of resources while other parts of the country are neglected. Unless the elections are nigh, of course :))))) Also, people from here can be quite... Entitled? I can't remember how to translate bahati. When they visit other places in our country as tourists. So like, it's justified, it's not without reason that everyone hates us. Also, people from here tend to look down on people from other places, I even catch myself doing it sometimes. I try not to.

[lumberrobot]

Summer's Serenity

kim minji x fem!reader

notes: long ahh summer jdojawjd

warning/s: ending is kind of ambiguous (idk, probs none)

genre: fluff

The first day of camp was supposed to be fun—exciting, even. But Y/N didn’t feel any of that. She sat in the back of the bus, arms crossed and earbuds in, pretending to be lost in the music. In truth, she couldn’t focus on anything except how much she didn’t want to be there.

This summer was supposed to be different. Y/N had planned to spend it with her friends, hanging out at the local café, catching up on shows, and maybe—even—getting a summer job to save up for something meaningful. Instead, her parents decided it would be “good for her” to get out of the house, to “experience nature,” and to meet new people at a camp in the middle of nowhere. So here she was, shipped off for two months like some sort of package that needed to be handled by someone else.

The bus bumped along the winding road, and Y/N sighed, glancing out the window at the trees whizzing past. The camp brochure had promised activities like canoeing, hiking, and bonfires—none of which excited her. She had never been the outdoorsy type. Give her a good book or a night out in the city, and she was content. But a whole summer surrounded by bugs, dirt, and people she didn’t know? That was a different story.

When the bus finally pulled into the campgrounds, Y/N braced herself. Camp Bunnies stretched before her—a sprawling patch of cabins, fields, and a lake that glittered in the afternoon sun. Kids her age spilled out of the bus, chatting excitedly as they lugged their bags toward the main cabin where registration was set up. Y/N hung back, dragging her feet as she approached the entrance.

“Hello! Welcome to Camp Bunnies!” One of the camp counselors, a tall, peppy woman with a clipboard, greeted her with far too much enthusiasm. “We’re so excited to have you.”

“Yeah… sure,” Y/N muttered, offering a half-hearted smile. She could already tell this place was going to be exhausting.

After registering and getting her cabin assignment, Y/N made her way to Cabin Four. Inside, it was as rustic as she’d imagined—wooden bunk beds, creaky floorboards, and the faint smell of pine. She threw her bag onto the bottom bunk and collapsed on the mattress, staring at the ceiling. Maybe if she stayed here long enough, no one would notice her absence from all the activities.

A soft knock on the door pulled her from her thoughts. Y/N sat up just as the door creaked open, revealing another girl standing in the doorway. She had long black hair tucked behind her ears, dark eyes that sparkled with curiosity, and a soft smile that made her look approachable in a way that immediately set Y/N on edge.

“Hi, I’m Minji,” the girl introduced herself, stepping inside with her duffel bag slung over one shoulder. “Looks like we’re cabinmates.”

Y/N offered a tight nod. “Yeah. Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you.” Minji’s voice was cheerful, but not in the overly peppy way the counselors had been. She seemed genuine, just trying to be friendly, not force anything.

Y/N shifted awkwardly, unsure how to respond. She wasn’t in the mood to make friends, not now. She had resigned herself to spending the summer in solitude, waiting for the days to pass until she could go home. But Minji didn’t seem to notice her reluctance.

“You’ve been to summer camp before?” Minji asked as she started unpacking.

“No,” Y/N replied shortly. “First time. Probably last.”

Minji chuckled softly, sitting down on her bed and giving Y/N a curious look. “Not a fan of the outdoors?”

“Not really. This wasn’t my idea,” Y/N admitted, feeling a little more comfortable now that Minji wasn’t forcing small talk. “My parents thought it would be ‘good for me.’”

“I get that,” Minji said, nodding in understanding. “My parents think I need to ‘learn new skills’ and ‘get out more.’ So here I am.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “You don’t seem like you hate it as much as I do.”

Minji shrugged, a small smile tugging at her lips. “I try to make the best of things. It’s easier that way.”

Y/N didn’t say anything, but she noticed that Minji wasn’t like the other campers who seemed to thrive in this environment. She wasn’t loud or overly social, but there was something comforting about her presence. Maybe this summer wouldn’t be a complete disaster if they stuck together.

=======

Over the next few days, Y/N and Minji settled into a routine. Y/N remained hesitant, still holding onto the idea that she didn’t need to make any real connections here. She resisted the scheduled hikes and nature walks, and the team-building games that seemed to exhaust her more emotionally than physically. But each time she felt herself retreating into the familiar comfort of solitude, Minji was there, not pushing, but quietly bridging the gap between Y/N and the rest of the camp.

One afternoon, after a particularly grueling archery session where Y/N's arrows missed the target entirely, she found herself sitting by the lake, feeling the cool breeze ruffle her hair. It was a secluded place, tucked away from the noise of the camp, with a clear view of the water. The distant sounds of laughter and chatter from the other campers faded as she focused on the rhythmic lapping of the water against the shore. She hadn’t even noticed Minji approach until the other girl sat down beside her.

“You looked like you were about to murder that target back there,” Minji said, a playful grin spreading across her face.

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at her lips. “I hate archery.”

Minji nodded sagely. “Yeah, I could tell by the way you aimed at the ground three times in a row.”

Y/N chuckled, her tension easing a little. It was one of those subtle things Minji was good at—making her laugh, softening the edges of Y/N’s frustration without ever making her feel like she was being laughed at.

They sat in silence for a while, the sun beginning its slow descent toward the horizon. The air smelled fresh—a mixture of pine and water—and Y/N could feel the day’s warmth lingering in the gentle breeze. She didn’t mind the quiet—not when it was with Minji. There was something calming about her presence, like she didn’t need to fill every moment with words.

=======

One evening, after dinner, Y/N slipped away to her favorite spot by the lake, craving the quiet and calm after the day’s exhausting activities. Y/N sat on the edge of the dock, her legs dangling over the side, watching the ripples spread across the lake’s surface. The orange glow of the setting sun reflected off the water, painting the sky in hues of pink and gold.

She didn’t expect anyone to join her, but after a few minutes, she heard soft footsteps behind her. Turning slightly, she saw Minji approaching, a gentle smile on her face.

“Mind if I sit with you?” Minji asked, her voice quiet, as if she didn’t want to disturb the peace of the moment.

Y/N shook her head. “Go ahead.”

Minji sat down beside her, their shoulders almost touching as they both gazed out at the lake. For a while, neither of them spoke, content to just sit in silence, listening to the soft lapping of the water and the distant calls of birds.

“I get why you like it here,” Minji said softly after a while. “It’s peaceful.”

“Yeah,” Y/N agreed, her voice just as quiet. “It’s the only place where I feel like I can breathe.”

Minji hummed in response, and they lapsed into silence again, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was the kind of silence that felt like understanding, like the two of them were sharing something without the need for words.

Eventually, Minji spoke again. “You know, when I first came here, I didn’t think I’d enjoy it either. I thought it’d be boring, and I’d just be counting the days until I could go home.”

Y/N glanced at her, surprised. “You? But you seem like… you’re good at this. The whole camp thing.”

Minji laughed softly, shaking her head. “Not really. I just learned how to make the best of it as I said. But honestly, I didn’t start enjoying it until I met you.”

Y/N’s heart gave a small, unexpected flutter at Minji’s words, and she quickly looked away, staring out at the lake again. “I didn’t think I’d meet anyone I could connect with here,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “But… you’re different.”

Minji smiled, a warm, soft smile that made Y/N’s chest feel light. “I’m glad we found each other, then.”

They stayed by the lake until the sun had fully set, the sky fading into a deep, velvety blue dotted with stars. Eventually, they made their way back to the cabin, walking side by side in comfortable silence, the quiet of the night wrapping around them like a warm blanket.

=======

As the days passed, Y/N found herself looking forward to the quiet moments by the lake with Minji. They became a routine—an unspoken agreement that they’d meet there in the evenings, sharing conversations or just sitting in silence, watching the world go by.

The more they spent time together, the more Y/N found herself opening up. At first, it had been small things—stories about her friends back home, the summer plans she’d left behind, or complaints about the camp. But as the days turned into weeks, those small pieces turned into more personal ones. She shared her favorite books and the characters she loved most, the songs she listened to when she felt like the world was too loud, and her constant feeling of being out of place at camp, like she didn’t belong with the other campers who seemed to thrive in this environment.

Minji, in turn, shared her own stories. She told Y/N about her love for music—how it had always been a way for her to express herself when words failed. She talked about her family, her school, and how she often felt like she didn’t quite fit in, either. Despite how effortlessly Minji seemed to handle camp life, Y/N learned that Minji had her own moments of feeling like an outsider.

One night, after a particularly loud and lively campfire, they sneaked away from the group, retreating to their secluded spot by the lake. The faint flicker of the distant flames barely reached them, leaving the two of them wrapped in the gentle embrace of the night. Minji leaned back on her hands, her gaze fixed on the stars above, her dark eyes shimmering in the moonlight.

“You ever think about how small we are?” Minji’s voice was a soft murmur, like she was speaking a secret only meant for them.

Y/N followed her gaze, staring at the endless stretch of stars above them. “Like, in the universe?”

“Yeah. It’s kind of overwhelming, but also… freeing in a way. Like, all the things we worry about—they’re so small in the grand scheme of things.” Minji’s voice was thoughtful, soft, and Y/N found herself hanging on every word.

Y/N’s heart tightened as she listened, the quiet vulnerability in Minji’s words making her feel both comforted and exposed. “I never really thought about it that way,” she admitted. “But you’re right. It makes everything feel… lighter. Like nothing’s as heavy as it seems.”

Minji smiled, her eyes catching the faint starlight. “Exactly. It’s like, whatever happens, we’re just tiny specks in a vast universe. It doesn’t mean our problems don’t matter, but… it takes the pressure off, you know?”

Y/N nodded, though something in her chest tightened. She hadn’t expected to feel this way—not just about camp, but about Minji. The quiet moments they shared, the way Minji seemed to understand her without her having to explain herself—it was all new and unfamiliar.

“Exactly,” Minji whispered, her gaze lingering on Y/N for a moment longer. “It’s like, in the grand scheme of things, it’s okay if we don’t have all the answers. We’re just... small specks in a vast universe.”

Y/N’s breath caught as their eyes met, and for a moment, it felt like the world around them had disappeared. It was just them—the two of them, under a sky full of stars, sharing something that words couldn’t fully capture. A quiet intimacy hung between them, and Y/N felt a longing she hadn’t been prepared for.

As Y/N shifted slightly, her hand brushed against Minji’s, sending a small, unexpected jolt through her. Neither of them moved for a moment, the light touch lingering between them. Y/N glanced at Minji, who was gazing out at the water, a soft smile playing on her lips. She didn’t seem to notice—or maybe she did, and just didn’t mind. Either way, Y/N felt a strange comfort in the quiet connection.

=======

Weeks passed, and their bond deepened. Sometimes, they didn’t need to talk at all. They would just sit side by side, watching the water as the sun set, the comfortable silence between them speaking louder than words ever could. Y/N found herself growing more comfortable, more open, with each passing day. With Minji, it wasn’t about fitting in or pretending to be someone she wasn’t. For the first time that summer, Y/N felt like she could just be herself, and that was enough.

Y/N had stopped dreading every moment of camp. Minji made things bearable—and maybe even enjoyable. The quiet, understanding way Minji navigated camp life, avoiding the overly enthusiastic campers yet still managing to find joy, made Y/N rethink her attitude.

During one memorable evening at the campfire, as they roasted marshmallows alongside the other campers, Y/N glanced at Minji, who was laughing at something someone had said. The warm light from the fire flickered across Minji’s face, casting a halo of golden light around her, and in that moment, Y/N felt a shift. It wasn’t just that Minji had made camp bearable; she genuinely liked being around her—more than she had anticipated.

A warmth blossomed between them, one Y/N hadn’t felt in a long time. It enveloped her like the heat of the fire, igniting her heart with a longing that felt both exhilarating and daunting. She caught herself entranced by the way the firelight illuminated Minji’s features, the way it highlighted the delicate contours of her jaw and the playful glint in her eyes. Each laugh that bubbled up from Minji’s lips resonated deep within Y/N, creating a melody of joy that danced in the air around them.

As they sat side by side, roasting marshmallows and sharing whispered secrets, the gentle warmth of their closeness ignited a flutter of something new in her chest, a tender feeling that made her heart race and her breath hitch. The way Minji’s shoulder brushed against hers sent sparks through her skin, igniting a yearning that had lain dormant for too long.

As they walked back to the cabin in silence that night, Y/N felt a flutter of something new in her chest—something that scared her a little. She wasn’t sure if Minji felt the same, but the connection they had built over the summer was undeniable.

The summer stretched on, transforming what had begun as an unwanted obligation into something Y/N never expected: a season filled with connection, warmth, and perhaps even the beginning of something more between her and Minji. The camp hadn’t been the adventure she had wanted, but maybe it was the one she needed.

=======

On the final day of camp, Y/N found herself back on the bus, seated in her usual spot at the back, watching the scenery blur past the window. She hadn’t anticipated feeling this way—reluctant to leave, unsure of what came next. Camp had been the last thing she’d wanted, but now, with the bus pulling away, she found herself wishing for more time.

She pulled out her earbuds, ready to sink into her music and let the world disappear, when Minji appeared beside her, just as she had on the first day. This time, though, there was no hesitation in Minji’s smile.

“Mind if I sit here?” she asked, holding up her own pair of earbuds, a playful grin tugging at her lips.

Y/N glanced at the empty seat next to her and nodded, her heart thumping in her chest. “Go ahead.”

Minji slid into the seat, and instead of putting in her own earbuds, she leaned closer, her shoulder brushing against Y/N’s as she held out one of her earbuds. “Let’s share,” she said, her voice soft but filled with something deeper.

Y/N hesitated for a second, her mind racing, but then she took the earbud, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. They sat together, shoulders touching, as the music filled the space between them, and the bus rumbled down the road. The first day of camp had been marked by solitude, but now, as the summer came to a close, Y/N wasn’t alone anymore.

As they shared the music, the lyrics washing over them, Y/N’s heart swelled with the weight of everything unspoken between them. The summer had been unexpected, filled with moments she hadn’t anticipated—but sitting beside Minji now, their shared silence more meaningful than words, Y/N realized she wouldn’t trade any of it.

As the soft melodies filled the air, the world outside the window faded into a tapestry of lush green trees and shimmering lakes. The bus rolled away from Camp Bunnies, leaving behind the familiar cabins and laughter that had once felt so distant.

Y/N stole a glance at Minji, who was gazing out the window, the fading sunlight catching the highlights in her hair and illuminating her features with a warm glow. Their shoulders brushed lightly—a small but significant connection that sent a flutter through Y/N’s chest.

“Can you believe it’s over?” Minji mused, her voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking too loudly might shatter the serene moment.

Y/N shook her head slowly, her heart swelling with a mix of nostalgia and warmth. “Not really. I thought I’d be counting down the days, but…” She paused, searching for the right words. “This summer turned out to be… different.”

Minji turned to her, and in that moment, something charged passed between them. The bus wound down the road, trees dancing in the breeze as the golden light began to fade, casting long shadows that intertwined like their stories.

“I didn’t expect to feel this way,” Minji admitted, her eyes holding Y/N’s gaze with an intensity that made Y/N’s heart race. “I thought I’d just be here for the experience, but I found something more.”

Y/N felt a swell of emotion as the realization struck her: she wasn’t leaving camp the same person she had been when she arrived. The summer that had once felt like a punishment had blossomed into something beautiful and unexpected—a connection that warmed her heart amidst the wilderness.

As the bus made its way home, the quiet hum of the engine accompanied their shared music, wrapping them in a cocoon of intimacy. Y/N knew that with Minji by her side, she wasn’t leaving alone. The road ahead was uncertain, but the bond they had forged under the open sky felt like a promise—an adventure waiting to unfold.

Minji glanced at her, as if reading her thoughts. “You know,” she said softly, her voice carrying a quiet certainty, “just because camp’s over doesn’t mean this has to end.”

Y/N turned to her, surprised by the confidence in her tone. “You think…?”

Minji nodded, her eyes warm and steady. “I know it will. We’ll figure it out—together. This is just the beginning.”

With the last rays of sunlight filtering through the trees, Y/N leaned slightly closer to Minji, feeling the warmth radiate between them. The shared earbuds, their shoulders brushing, created a delicate space that felt alive with possibility. The summer that had once felt like a punishment had turned into something completely unexpected. Instead of the isolation she had felt on the way there, Y/N now felt a quiet warmth next to her—something that made her realize she wasn’t leaving camp the same person she had been when she arrived.

And with Minji by her side, Y/N wasn’t leaving alone.

[semperamans]

benny is back home n'he's missed you so much he may just have to fuck you over it!!!

warnings!!!!

benny is toxic! unprotected sex! benny is toxic! i didn't proof read it!!!! so there are probably so many mistakes!!!! n' this is LONG, so read at your own risk <3

despite its stillness, there is something deafening about the july air. there's nothing more to hear than night bird song as it falls over the slumbering city. gone are the rumbling engines on i-90 n'the chatter of women parading down the sidewalks. there are no babies gigglin', no ice cream trucks wailing, no sirens squwakin'. there's nothin' stirrin' in this humid night besides the rapid beat of your heart because, well, you shouldn't be here. you know that jus' as well as i do. you should be at home, sprawled beneath the ceiling fan, eyes closed, blissfully disconnected from the world, n'you're a good girl, so i'm sure that's what you would be doing had the shrill urgency of benny's call not woken you.

"hi baby," is what he breathed over the line, and despite the distance you could smell the jack daniels on his breath. "m'home." he had been home for a few days now. johnny had called you n'made you aware the second benny's wheels crossed the county line. and then you waited. and waited. and waited. and were your feelings hurt when benny didn't call? absolutely. by day three you were going insane. like mosquito-bitten legs, it was painfully hard to ignore the absence of his voice through the receiver. every purring engine had your head whipping 'round. every blonde head had your heart hammering, but it was never the right engine. never the right head. never benny. johnny'd tried to get you to come down to the clubhouse, but you didn't wanna look desperate (even though you were). it was just so hard to think about. all you could see in your mind's eye was benny splayed across a bar stool, lap empty, hand wrapped around a whiskey glass when it should've been around your throat.

"m'missin' you so much." you wouldn't have assumed he missed you much at all with how radio silent he'd been since leavin' over a month ago. your girls told you that if benny really cared he would make more of an effort - wouldn't run off whenever things other than his dick got hard - an' yeah, you knew this was likely true, but he was enigmatic and enticing and everything.

"wan' you to come see me."

you should've hung up the phone right then, but you didn't. and you definitely shouldn't've pulled a sleep shirt over your nightgown n'sneakers on your bare feet, but you did. now here you stand - peerin' up at benny's front door - tryin' to tell yourself it's all right. nothin' to be nervous over. but you were nervous, so you counted the steppin' stones - 14 - and then there he was.

he looked good, there was simply no denying it. when it was particularly hot, benny wore nothing beneath his colors n'tonight you could see his bare chest glistening with sweat from the glow of the porch light. moths and june bugs spun themselves dizzy 'round him, but he didn't flinch. his sights were set, smile wan and excited and focused on you.

"c'mere." benny's voice had a medicinal quality about it - you figured that out some time ago. his voice was a salve on sunburned skin. it was a cool mid-day rainstorm. it was enough to have your eyes flicking upward, your body moving forward, your mouth forming the shape of his name. "look at you," he practically purred. he seemed more coherent, which was great. you didn't like fuckin' benny when he was drunk - always fearin' it never meant the same as when he pressed himself into you sober. he held you at arms length, eyes traipsing the familiar paths his fingers and tongue had mapped repeatedly. "y'know, i could travel from here to fuckin' the ends of the universe n'never find a girl s'pretty as you."

"s'that what you're lookin' for when you leave?" the words escape your mouth before your brain can register the impact they will have, but benny doesn't seem all that deterred. he just shakes his head; half-hearted guilt tugging at the corner of his mouth as he lets ya go n'invites you inside. benny would never apologize for leavin'. that just wasn't his forte, but he'd make up for it. he always did.

the interior of benny's place is nicer than you'd expect n'it's all because johnny outright fuckin' refused to step foot in the place when benny'd first moved in. it was terrible, but now the trailer actually looks decent. s'not much: a small livin' space with a couch, a tiny kitchen, an even smaller bathroom, and a bedroom big enough for a few pieces of furniture, but it smells like benny: like motor oil and sandalwood and smoke and body wash and you wish they sold the scent in department stores because you'd buy up every bottle. it's the aroma you miss terribly when he runs. it's the scent you wish lasted just a bit longer on your bedsheets. it's now overwhelming as benny plods over, stubbing his cigarette out in the ashtray. hands unoccupied, he has nothing better to do with them than wrap 'em 'round your waist, tuggin' you into his slick embrace. his chin fits so nicely atop your head n'he's always told you that you were meant to be. "fuck soulmates. i think god s'got a big ass puzzle n'he just, tears it up. throws the pieces here n'there. but me'n'you, baby? we're always gonna fit together. m'always gonna find you." he wouldn't need to find you if he didn't run but when you're pressed so snugly together like you are now - well - he could say anything and you'd agree.

"look at me, darlin'. wanna see those eyes again. missed 'em so much." n'when you do look at him, you wish you hadn't. he looks better (somehow) than the last time you saw him: skin so clear, eyes so bright, smile taken from a fuckin' toothpaste commercial. it's unfair how good god made such a bad boy look. "there's my girl." and damn if his voice doesn't sound even better.

a half-hearted hum rolls from the back of your throat. you want nothing more than to be his girl, but he'd never really allow that. never really allow you to get close enough and the hurt must register on your face because benny's takin' your cheeks between his palms, eyebrows furrowing.

"what's goin' on, baby?"

baby. the word sounds so good rolling off his tongue. you wanna be his baby more than anything, but you say "nothin'" cuz that's all this will ever be.

"doesn't seem like nothin'. tell me." you think about it. could you, rather, should you tell him? the words are there, right there. right on the tip of your tongue; i miss you. i've missed you. i so badly wanted to see you. i want to be more than the girl you call when you want to fuck. the words are so hot you want to spit them out, but you can't say those things n'likely will never be able to. the words are toxic. poison. those words would assassinate this arrangement n'as much as it hurts, you know deep down you'd rather have pieces of benny than none at all so instead of speaking you rise on your tip toes and press your lips against his.

kissing benny is something you could never tire of. it's the delicate bite of his perfect teeth on your pillowy lip that has you opening your mouth - inviting him in - begging him to take. it's the taste of mint and cigarettes and liquor that lingers on your tongue that makes you long for more. but benny pulls away first - always does - n'that's when you notice the wrinkle in his brow is gone because he is no longer concerned about what's racketing around your brain. no. he's had a sample, and now he wants the whole thing.

"c'mere." it's an impossible command. you're already so close - any closer and you would - benny dips slightly, circling your thighs with his arms, pushin' you atop the high-backed couch where you wobble and clutch onto him which makes him smile but then everything changes because "want another kiss. missed that mouth so much." and you collide in a spit-soaked show of affection sure to bruise the flesh now scraping so deliciously against his beard.

this is familiar to benny. he knows where to touch you. knows how to caress your skin as he peels the shirt from your flushed torso and pushes the thin straps of your nightgown down. you're soft. he's always loved that about you. your voice. your hair. your skin. so supple. and there are times benny's gotta stop himself. he's gotta repress that primal urge to take, to claim, to mark but it's hard so hard because you are so soft. his agile fingers float down your neck, relishing in the plume of perfume that billows out as your body contorts closer and closer and closer. you're so responsive: gasping in the right places, arching into his hands so perfectly. your dainty inhales fuel him. he wants to do more. wants to hear more.

"you're gonna let me fuck you right here, aren't ya?" benny asks, pulling back to gauge your reaction. "missed me so much you're gonna let me fuck you on this couch, eh?"

"you're the one who called me." you say, smile wide and knowing as you feel benny's cock twitch. his eyes turn molten lapis. he had called you. he had missed you. but he wouldn't say it. couldn't.

"awfully mouthy," he clucks, pressing his mouth into yours for another taste. "why don't y'use it for somethin' else?"

before you, benny'd never been a fan of oral sex. i mean, he'd come around to enjoyin' it thanks to johnny but, it wasn't high on his list 'til you started suckin' him off any and every chance you got. for a mouth belonging to such a precious gal, he never would have expected the sinful things you could make him feel. n'now, knelt before him, he can barely fight the urge to shove his dick in your mouth.

"s'pretty. always so pretty." you hum. you got him out of his jeans in record time and thank god because it's probably a million degrees in the goddamn trailer. now he's free; cock out, dripping precum and he can see the pride puffin' up your chest. no other girl could get 'em like this - could rile him up 'til his cock was thick and heavy and veiny and hot to the touch - no one but you n'at the first whisper of your fingers, his head rolls back. his precum is good lubrication, but you need more. could always use more, so up you come, crossing your cute little feet under your bum, and then - fuck - you lean forward and spit on his heated skin. yeah, benny thinks he may cum from that alone.

"touch me, doll. c'mon."

"shh," your fingers form a loose circle 'round the base of his cock. "i've got you."

"jesus christ," its the feel of your lips on his thighs and your fingers on his dick that makes him squeeze his eyes shut. he's got one fist balled at his side, the other tucks its way into your hair because he's gotta do something. anything.

"y've still got your christmas tree up, so, y'know, could be insensitive what with the holidays n'all. chirstimas in july." and despite the fact that you've got his pulsing length so wet and hard in your hand - benny fucking laughs.

"you're so -" but whatever adjective he had planned to use flies from his mind the moment your mouth covers him. all he can think about now is not cumming. you don't need to know that he hasn't fucked another woman since the last time he was balls deep in you. you don't need to know that he hasn't jerked off in god knows how long in preparation for this night. the only thing that you need to know is that he fuckin' loves this. he just lets you work. just relishes in the feeling of having you there. of having your mouth on him. it's so heavenly. cavernous yet tight. wet and warm and "fuck - oh fuck - stop."

and you do with no hesitation. you pull away so quickly that strands of saliva trickle down onto your tits. okay. maybe not jerking off wasn't the best idea, benny determines.

"did i do something wrong?" your voice is husky, eyes wide and slightly frightened and benny thinks he may love you.

"no." he shakes his head, grabs your arms, pulls you up. "no. fuck - i wanna fuck you." he brushes his palm across your cheek, wiping the spit and precum away. "want to fuck you right here. on the couch. c'mon," he maneuvers you around, makin' it to where his bare ass is on the couch and you're hoverin' above him, smiling so cutely at him he's sure he's gonna explode. you're so fucking cute that it nearly suffocates him.

"gimmie another kiss." he breathes, cupping your cheek once more. your lips meet in a cacophony of sighs. relief slackens your shoulders and now anticipation builds because you know what's coming.

"benny,"

"mm?"

"unless you have rubbers tucked in the cushions," you have to fight through his kisses. "you can't fuck me here."

the words marinate. the ceiling fan bats them around like a cat does to yarn and then benny finally responds.

"let me fuck you raw."

there are a hundred good reasons why it's a horrible idea, but you can't conjure a single fucking one as your head bobs in agreement.

"yeah?" perhaps christmas miracles are still valid in july because holy shit. "yeah?"

"please."

"come 'ere then."

you're obedient. benny loves that about you. seconds later you're spreading your legs, shimmering with sweat as you fight to maintain your balance n'you look so hungry - so eager to please - so pretty n'he can feel your wetness seeping onto his bare thigh as you pepper tender kisses along his chest. you want this. you want it just as badly as he does. he can tell. those preening noises comin' from the back of your throat and the bite of your nails into his shoulder are the only things grounding him to this moment. he feels so light - like he could fuckin' float if you weren't sat atop him - but there is work to do. a certain set of things that need to be done before he can spear you on his cock.

"gonna stretch you open first," he tells you, pushing your hip back but you don't budge. your head shakes, lower lip juts out. no.

"i wanna feel it." you say, voice almost a whine. you're tired of waiting. tired of playing this game so you propel yourself onto your feet, nearly toppling as the cushion gives under your weight, but you've got this. you sweet capable being. "wanna feel you now." your right hand circles his cock. "just want you to be in me benny. jus' you." it's a confession spoken like gospel. n'with your help, his gushing head probes your wetness and benny's thoughts spiral recklessly. "ready?"

it's cute. the way you ask him. the way your pretty little head cocks to the side. it's even cuter the way your pussy so greedily takes his cock once benny gives you an answer. yes. a singular nod. then everything is hot. he's too close to the sun, but the burn is delicious.

every bump. every vein. every groove on his cock awakens something within you. your eyes are closed so tightly - you may rupture a vessel - but you don't care. you're full. so full n'he's only halfway in. it's never felt like this before. you're in uncharted territory so the first roll of your hips is exploratory. the second is more confident. the third is a plunge and benny is drowning.

"god. fuck." words to form coherent sentences have long since vanished from benny's vocabulary. and you? usually so deft with language, you're somewhat embarrassed at the foolishness of your grunts, but benny loves it. he watches you move from squinted eyes. you're fascinating; body shifting with ease up and down up and down up and down. the muscles in your stomach tighten and wan as his cock disappears deep in your cunt only to reappear seconds later dripping and glistening with remnants of your wet. it's hypnotic n'benny thinks you're magic and sweet and good but dirty - oh so dirty. his balls and heart squeeze simultaneously n'it only gets worse when you toss your arms around his neck. benny can feel your cool breath on his throat - it adheres to the damp indications you lips left behind - and your tits, god your tits press against the material of his colors and rub and rub and rub. it's intimate. it's too much. too long like this and benny knows he'll be spillin' his secrets and his seed and that's not how he wants this to go, not yet anyway.

the change in position catches you by surprise, he can see it on your face. those puffy lips part in confusion, but he silences your questions with a shattering kiss. your teeth gnash and spit slips down your chin as he bites your inhibitions away. he's got you beneath him now. missionary. his favorite because he just likes lookin' at you. likes being close, so close. he's in his element; forehead pressed against yours, mouth open, grunting obscenities as he pushes harder and harder and harder into your sobbing pussy. you're slowly disintegrating. the way your ankles lock around his spine perfectly aligns your clit with his pelvic bone and my god nothing has ever felt quite so good.

"benny," your voice is a dark whisper that grows brighter brighter brighter as he thrusts into oblivion. you want more. want it harder. and benny is happy to oblige. the sound of his nuts slapping against your soaked center reminds him of a fuckin' metronome. your pitiful little moans could put pornstars to shame.

"you're so fuckin' tight." and it's true. he's said it to other girls before out of courtesy, but he means it with you. "when i cum you're gonna take every drop, mm?" benny's ability to say such delivish things so close to your face drives you insane. it's as though he's tellin' you what the weather is gonna be tomorrow, or sayin' his favorite color. "s'my favorite pussy to fuck. no one feels like you." he should stop, but he can't. it's too good. you're so good. "only girl i wanna fill. only girl i wanna give my cum to."

if pride were a flower you'd be a fuckin' garden. confidence flourishes like ivy as he keeps. going. it's in this moment you know it's worth it. the hours waiting for him. the lonely nights. it's all worth it. benny is worth it.

"are y'gonna cum in me?" at the sound of your voice, benny's forehead crashes down on yours. his eyelashes are so long they kiss the tops of his round cheeks.

"fuck - yeah."

"yeah?" you angle your pelvis, gasping at the new sensation. n'benny knows what to do. knows how to send you over. snaking a hand down, his index finger rubs circles around your clit, dipping down, pullin' your shared juices up. you're not gonna last much longer n'as much as he wishes he could keep you here forever his fucking nuts are so tight. he's so close.

"fuck - baby. shit."

"do it deep. wanna have you leakin' out of me for days. want somethin' to remember you by." you've never spoken like this before - his sweet darling - where did this mouth come from? one hand squeezes your jaw. something to remember him by? he'll give you something. he pushes your head to the side, latching his teeth into the side of your neck. the rough yet delicate suck and soothing stroke of his tongue add another element to the amalgamation of pleasure, and now you feel like you're drowning.

"m'gonna cum." benny’s choked voice rasps in your ear.

"cum in me."

"fuck im gonna cum in you."

he couldn't pull out even if he wanted to. there's no willpower strong enough to allow him to extract his cock from your pussy. he's sure of it.

"need you to cum with me." his index finger circles around and around and around. "gotta cum when i tell you. yeah? gonna be a good girl n'listen to daddy?" your toes fuckin' curl, digging into the cushion. "use your words." he doesn't know - doesn't care - that your words have magically turned into alphabet soup; there are letters and sounds but no coherence, but it's no excuse. benny, devilishly, begins to slow. "use. your. words." each syllable is punctuated with a sharp thrust n'the head of his cock is wedging so deliciously against your spongy center that you nearly cum, but you don't. you're good. so good.

"m'gonna listen." you wail. "gonna be good." your reward is a kiss and the continuation of benny's deliriously fast pace.

"knew you would." it becomes hard to speak with you squeezing round him like that. his pleasure is melting into an unidentifiable mass. he knows nothing of isolation. his body no longer belongs to him. he can't tell where you start and he ends but he knows where you will finish. "gonna need you to cum, pretty baby." he's unable to do much more than whisper. "ready?" you nod. "ready?"

"please."

"now."

you couldn't hold back even if you tried. the first spurt of benny's cum is so warm you make a surprised little gasp. he's so deep, pumping his load so deep that the lower part of your abdomen has stretched in accommodation. your bodies flounder together; fingers pressing, lips melting, legs tangling. benny thrusts once, twice, three times more before he's spent. his body begins to still - his weight slowly pressing upon you before collapsing. your thundering heart could lull him to sleep if he'd allow it, but he can't allow it because unlike with other women; the lustful haze refuses to dissipate. post-nut clarity doesn't exist when the woman you fucked looks and feels the way you do and it scares benny so much that he collects you in his arms n'moves you off of him.

"i'll bring you somethin' to wipe off with." he doesn't look at you as he rises. instead he chooses to focus on how his legs don't feel like his legs. how the hot water won't warm up n'he can't give you a cold rag. his disappointment grows when he returns to find you already shrugging back into your nightgown. the pair of you tend to yourselves. you wipe benny's cum off your thighs and toss the rag into the dirty clothes pile on the floor. you try not to linger. you know it only makes things harder, but benny's gazin' at you with those eyes. he's fixin' your necklace and opening the door for you.

"gimmie a hug?" his bravado is gone. his voice is quiet, his arms are welcoming. you fool yourself into thinking he's gonna miss you too. you've got his cum dripping down your leg and he's got your heart in his hands but nothing has changed. things would never change. n'you wanna stay here - wanna stay with him for eternity - but if history repeats itself you will only have another minute in his embrace. he who holds your pieces together is the one responsible for their fractured state n'maybe you're a masochist. maybe you're in love with the wrong person. maybe none of it is supposed to make sense anyway.

when you part, you want to cry. benny kisses you. it's soft, a delicate kiss you wanna bottle and keep forever next to his scent. you worry that one day you will unknowingly have a last kiss with benny, but for now you allow yourself this moment. he won't promise to call n'you won't say goodbye. you'll just slip out into the night - probably call johnny usin' the payphone down the street and spend the rest of the night sobbin' into his neck.

but it's worth it. somehow even after it all, benny cross is still worth it.

[beaddie]

AMARANTHINE - Dr. STONE

sum☆: "ᵉˡᵉᵍᵃⁿᵗ! " 𝙰𝙼𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙽𝚃𝙷𝙸𝙽𝙴 (adj.) undying, immortal, eternally beautiful In which Stanley Snyder, Xeno Houston Wingfield, and (Y/N) Ambrose were trapped in an unexpected stone world that had been petrified 3,700 years before. However, they were 'infiltrated' by some foreign brats all of a sudden. Of course, they don't give up without a fight, do they?

warnings:. all characters are 18+!!! violence. language. FICTION!! don't like it? scroll away!! first ever post on this app. english is not my first language, so ugh. (Dr. Stone x Reader) (Dr. STONE : New America City Arc) MANGA SPOILER

(CHAPTER 1) Z=149: Light Lure in Darkness

The Kingdom of Science, their boats skimming across the tranquil waters of the American forest, had finally stumbled upon the elusive "life-giving corn." Chrome, his eyes wide with excitement, was the first to spot it. 

"HECK YEAH! WE FOUND IT!" he exclaimed, his voice echoing through the air.

Senku, ever the pragmatic one, couldn't help but grin. "Yeah, the cheat-code corn that the U.S. was so proud of," he said, a touch of nostalgia in his voice.

Gen, still relatively new to the group, tilted his head in confusion. "Cheat-code corn...?" he asked.

"The great yellow dent!" Senku replied. "It tastes like crap, but you can squeeze out a crazy amount of alcohol."

The Kingdom of Science desperately needed this corn. It was a crucial ingredient for the revival fluid they were developing, a fluid that could potentially bring the entire world back to life. Taiju, his determination unwavering, shouted, 

"YEAH! AND THEN WE'LL BE ON OUR WAY TO REVIVING THE WHOLE WORLD! JUST HANG IN THERE AMERICAN STATUES! IT WON'T BE LONG NOW!"

The team was more motivated than ever. They were on the cusp of a breakthrough that could rewrite the course of history.

"But there's no telling how much of this corn is left," Senku cautioned.

Taiju, ever the optimist, dismissed his concerns. "Sure, but even with just a little bit, we can grow a whole bunch more!"

Ryusui, the captain of their vessel, nodded. "Then it's still a race against time."

As the boat continued its journey, Kohaku, ever vigilant, spotted something floating downstream. With her chopsticks, she scooped it out of the water. 

"Corn kernels!" she exclaimed.

"Hah! They keep floating downstream," Kohaku said, holding up the kernels.

"It's seeming more and more likely that we'll find some growing upriver," Ukyo replied, his voice filled with excitement.

"Probably a real baaaad amount too!" Chrome added, his enthusiasm matching Ukyo's.

Suddenly, the radio crackled to life. "Greetings! Search team here. We discovered corn in the river..." The research team, of which Gen was a member, had found a cornfield nearby.

"Yayy!" the team cheered.

"Let us know if you find any downriver from where you are," Gen said into the radio.

"It's not the source, though," Senku added. "We still need more data."

As the team celebrated their discovery, two figures lurked in the shadows of the nearby forest. They had intercepted the transmission, their eyes glinting with a sinister intent.

"Grr... grr..." A pack of wolves howled in the distance. The two figures leaped from a tree, their movements swift and precise. With a flick of their wrists, the wolves were silenced.

Meanwhile, back with the research team, Senku was busy with a peculiar experiment. He was covering a light source with a white cloth.

"Wouldn't shining a bright light at night just attract bugs?" Gen asked, curious.

"That's a goal," Senku replied. "By checking out which bugs this light stimulus attracts, we can learn more about the area. And if my guess is right..."

As Senku continued his explanation, a flutter of wings caught their attention. A European corn borer moth, a moth that primarily feeds on corn, had been lured by the light. 

"There's a ton of corn nearby," Senku confirmed.

"A butterfly? How pretty," Kohaku remarked.

"It's actually a moth," Gen corrected her.

"It's mostly a semantic distinction to start with," Ukyo added. "This light lure is eerily beautiful."

After setting up camp, the team discussed their findings. Senku concluded that there must be a cornfield nearby.

Just as they were settling in, Tsukasa sensed an unsettling presence. Matsukaze agreed, while Kohaku wondered if it was a beast. Ginro, however, remained calm, confident in their group's strength. Kinro, ever the cautious one, noted his sheepish nature.

Suddenly, a chilling realization dawned on them. They were being watched. 

Tuskasa then mumbled."I sense...Bloodlust" 

Tsukasa shouted, his voice filled with urgency. "TO THE BOAT! NOW! AND TAKE COVER!"

As they scrambled to board the boat, the sound of gunfire erupted from the forest. Bullets whizzed past them, narrowly missing their targets.

"A machine gun!" Ukyo exclaimed.

"WHAT THE HECK IS THAT?!" Ginro shouted.

"HMPH! Never underestimate a captain at his helm!" Ryusui replied, a confident smirk playing on his lips.

"WATER BULWARK!" he commanded. The boat surged forward, creating a protective barrier of water.

The figures in the forest watched with interest as the research team escaped.

"<Ooh, how did they know?>" one of them muttered.

"<How rare, a bunch of brats operating a boat,>" the other replied, a hint of amusement in their voice.

Back on the boat, the team was still reeling from the attack. Thankfully, no one was injured, thanks to Tsukasa's quick reflexes.

Gen and Yo discussed the incident, wondering if America had truly survived. Ryusui mentioned the statues, suggesting that the cornfield might have been planted by someone who had been revived.

"If so, we should be grateful as hell," Senku said, his voice filled with both anxiety and determination.

"Ku ku ku... worst case, we're looking at a showdown against an evil scientist," he added. "Too bad for them that's the one arena where I won't lose!"

[eirakairos]

Rendezvous Chapter 5 (Side Story)

Summary: It has been a couple of weeks since Sylus found you and your daughter. One night, she had a nightmare about the book she read in his library.

Chapter 6

A/N: Thank you so much for reading this series! This is a very short side story inspired by the latest Sylus update (that I'm still trying to move on from lol)

Tags: nightmares and comfort, death mentioned, MC is a mother, and Sylus and her have a daughter!, angsty if you knew about the context, Sylus is a girl dad hands down

You and Sylus are arranging the master bedroom. It’s been a couple of weeks since you and your daughter returned to N109 Zone. You seemed to notice that Sylus was a bit clingy, but it's valid as he lost you two for years. You are still insisting on using the guest room since your daughter is there.

“You are still going to sleep here, no objections, kitten,” he said as he opened the door. “Wh- I didn’t even say anything!” you said. You are in bliss being reunited with him, but it's been a long time. You’re still not adjusted to being back to the dim environment again. “But you were thinking it,” he said. You sighed, he can read your mind like an open book, or probably this is from your resonance with him. “Don’t worry, our daughter will take the guest bedroom, it has more furniture now, like a bookshelf,” he said. “I… I didn’t expect you to be this prepared,” you said. He hummed. “I had just to confirm, as I said, I believed you two were alright, but the search took a while,” he said. You kneeled to arrange your clothes, you took a peek at Sylus, he seemed to look restless as if something was bugging his mind.

“Sylus, hey,” you said. He looked at you and then you patted the space beside you, motioning him to sit beside you on the carpet floor. He did follow but was a bit spaced out. “You are worried about me and our daughter, aren’t you?” you said.

“I didn’t even say anything,” he replied and smiled, returning what you had said earlier. You pouted and he hummed. He looked more solemn but conflicted. “I wanted you two to stay here, but it might be too much for our daughter,” Sylus said. “She enjoyed being in the grasslands, with flowers and fresh wind. If you two decided to live in Linkon, I would accept it,” he said. You blinked and smiled, he was being very considerate. His fatherly traits are showing so easily. Having to sacrifice just for their sake, you knew Sylus had to stay in N109 Zone, where it is his jurisdiction. Sylus living in Linkon City would pose a lot of risks. “I’m alright in both worlds, I’m used to getting back and forth,” you smiled. “This is a rare case of seeing you getting worried,” you followed. Sylus smiled and looked away. “Yeah, I’m worried, kitten. We are talking about our daughter,” he said softly. You held his hand, and despite his calm demeanor, you could tell he was thinking a lot since departing from the grasslands. “She is fine, I mean look, she is in the library again reading a book,” you reasoned. “She seemed engrossed in it since we arrived here,”

“She is reading a tale about a dragon,” Sylus said. “A story where a mortal is being sent to be eaten by the dragon, but both were enthralled and fell in love,” he explained. “That series was advanced for her, it seemed she reads a lot,”

You nodded. “Besides hanging out with the warriors, she reads whatever books she can find. There’s not much since the tribe is moving a lot, but the warriors often bring some for her whenever they trade in the city,” you smiled. “Also a story about a dragon? Never thought you’d be reading fantasy stories,” Sylus crossed his arms. “The story is… Interesting,” he said. “It was a best seller multiple times. Though, I’m unsure how she will react in the ending,” you blinked. “What do you mean? Is it a bad ending?” Sylus looked solemnly in the direction of the library.

“It was a tragedy,”

Sylus just finished reading a book and walking in the hallways to return it to his bookshelf. He heard a faint murmur, a sob. He walked closer to the tentative source, your daughter’s room. He instantly gets worried as he softly knocks on the door.

“Hey, are you alright?” Sylus asked.

He could hear her quiet sniffle. " I’m okay,” his daughter answered.

“I am going in, okay,” Sylus said before opening the door. His heart breaks a little when he sees his daughter shed a few tears. He knows his daughter is mature at her age, but she is always his baby. Sylus walked relaxed as he kneeled in front of her. She is trying to wipe her tears away, but he breathes in as he stops her and does it himself.

“Now, what’s wrong, sweetie?” he said in a low, gentle voice. He waited patiently for his daughter to calm down more and speak.

“I had… I had a nightmare,” The little girl said in a hoarse voice. There was silence before Sylus stood up and sat beside her bed. Her daughter scooted a bit to give him space. He patted her head for comfort. “That is unfortunate indeed,” he said. Sylus noticed the last book of the fantasy story on her side table. “Was it about the dragon?” he asked. The daughter nodded, Sylus was surprised when she suddenly hugged his waist. This was the first time she was opening up to him. He smiled as his arm went around her to soothe her. “What happened with the dragon?” he asked eagerly, maybe to get it out of her system. “I finished the book… The dragon died,” she said. “It is weird. In my dream, you were the dragon… And Mama was the human girl.” Sylus was surprised then quickly masked back to being concerned. “I’m sorry… I didn’t tell you that the book was very advanced for your age. I wanted to warn you about the ending, but I don’t want to ruin your enjoyment,” he said. The little girl shook her head. “It’s okay, I read many books, but I like the story. I’m just sad that the dragon died,” Sylus smiled, she still has so much innocence in the world. He wants to keep and protect it as it is, but life is changing when she gets older. “Mama said her dragon is gone… It felt too real…” Her hug around his waist goes tighter. “I don’t want Papa to leave us,” she said. He blinked, realizing why she was crying. His heart ached at the thought his daughter must’ve felt lonely that she only knew her mother and had lingering thoughts about where her father may be. His arms went around her for a warm embrace. “I will not, I promise. That is only a nightmare, nothing more,” he whispered. “Like the dragon, I have found my precious treasures, I will not lose them ever again, and I will fight and survive for them,” the little girl sniffed and nodded. Sylus goes from reckless to tactical in between in his everyday life. Still, his protectiveness supersedes whenever it involves his beloved and daughter like a dragon coiling his body around his rare treasures.

There was a comfortable silence between the two, as her crying subsided, and was a bit cheered up by her father’s comfort. “Papa,” she said. Sylus hummed. The word is still foreign to him like it is a privilege for his daughter to call him that. He cherishes it every time. “Would there be a happy ending for them? Maybe I can ask the author?” she released her embrace to him and moved to get the book. “The name is only Crow… Huh? What kind of name is that?” she said, surprised. “It is a pseudonym, sweetie, it's their alternate name to hide their true identity,” Sylus answered. “Oh… I wanted to ask him…” she said sadly. Sylus looked at her and then nodded shortly. “Alright, I can try to call him,” he said. “Really?!” the daughter said, surprised. “Yes, he is very private, but maybe I can get the message across,” he smiled at her. “Thank you!” she squealed, putting the book down and hugging him again. He smiled more as he hugged back. “Since you finished reading it, besides the ending, what do you think of the dragon and the girl?” Sylus asked. His daughter pondered but was a bit excited. “The dragon was really mean, then he went softie to the girl!” she rambled, making Sylus amused. “The girl is a fighter too, like him! A-and when she placed flowers on his head!” she smiled, making him do the same, as she smiles like you. “I hope that the dragon and the girl meet again…” The little girl said as she leaned on him.

“What are you doing?” you said as you tried to peek from behind but his shoulders were too wide. Recently, Sylus has been busy in his study room. He always strictly says no disturbance to everyone, even to you and your daughter. Your daughter is respectful of it, especially since she is part Sylus, she always wants her quiet time. You, on the other hand, are not, so it is a challenge accepted.

“I told you to not disturb me for two hours, kitten,” he said as he was typing on his laptop. Beside him is a pile of books. You looked at it closer, moving to see the book cover.

“Oh, this is that fantasy book our daughter liked,” you said. You squinted your eyes to see the author's name.

“Crow? Why is that name so familiar?” you whispered then realized something. “Wait! YOU’RE CR-”

Dark mists enveloped you, making you squeak as you flew onto his lap. Sylus glared at you. “Stop, or she might hear us,” he said sternly. You were confused at first, then remembered where you saw the book in the first place. “Oh,” You remembered how you teased him about having a fantasy story on his bookshelf and now realized why it was there. He grabbed the first book of the series and gave it to you with a smug look. “She… She was reading your books… Since when did you become an author?” you whispered. “You are often too busy to do such things-” You flipped the pages and saw the first book was published five years ago, the year when… Oh.

Sylus gazed at you as he pulled you closer. “You can start reading the books, sweetie,” he said. “So you can catch up until the new one launches,”

[vendetta-if]

Okay... Every. Single. Time. I see the hickey ask on an IF blog I follow, I feel the NEED to post this follow up:

What if very shortly after that, the ROs catch / hear the MC asking someone (or even if the MC asks THEM, depending on the context) if they have something to soothe mild allergic reactions to mosquito bites, because they got one on their neck.

So basically, how would they react when faced to the reveal it wasn't a hickey at all but a dumb mosquito bite!

Here goes out to all of you hickey anons and non-anons 🤭❤️ Also, the link to the infamous hickey ask is here for those who haven’t read it!

Ash

“Wait, wait, Ash!” They hear MC calls out to them and they stop in place. Oh, how they just want to bolt away from this nightmare, but maybe this is also a chance to just face it head-on.

“Ash, what’s wrong?” MC asks as Ash turns around to face them. Ash doesn’t really know what kind of face they’re wearing right now.

“Who was it, MC?” They ask, voice hoarse.

“Who, what?” MC asks in genuine confusion, which just irritates Ash even more.

“The one—The one who gave you… those marks!” They gesture at MC’s neck.

MC’s eyes widen. “What?! No! Nobody gave me these marks. These are goddamn mosquito bites,” MC explains as they scratch their neck. “I swear once I get my hands on those bastards…” They mutter under their breath.

Ash just stands there dumbfounded. “M—Mosquitoes?” Those are not… They glance down and just notice MC is holding a can of bug spray. Oh… Oh no… How could you think the worst of MC, Ash?

“Yeah, pesky bastards. Don’t tell me you didn’t have any in your room last night?” MC says, scanning Ash up and down for a second before concluding, “Oh, you didn’t, don’t you?”

“N—No,” Ash replies truthfully.

“Motherfuckers probably thought your blood is too hot to drink or something,” MC mumbles irritatedly. “Well, I’m gonna spray the whole penthouse now, if you don’t mind.” MC raises the can in their hand like a weapon.

“Uh… Yeah, please do that,” Ash says stupidly. “And, uh… Just forgot what I said earlier…” A surge of relief washes through their whole body, but it soon gets tainted by embarrassment.

“Aww, were you jealous?” MC smirks teasingly.

“Uh—Um…” Ash stammers. “I—I gotta go! See you later, MC!” They splutter in panic before bolting away for real this time.

Oh my God, MC is not gonna let them live this down, won’t they…

Rin

Rin decides not to embarrass themself further and chooses to just ignore MC, pretending not to see or notice them entering the room. They’re not going to lower themself to ask MC about the marks.

Honestly, they’d rather MC leave them alone for now. But of course, the opposite of what they want always happen. They groan inwardly as they see MC walking over to where they’re standing from the corner of their eye.

They steel themself for an unwanted conversation. They’re good at that.

“Hey, Rin,” MC greets them and they just grunt softly in reply. MC doesn’t even notice their curt reply, seemingly distracted by something else.

Oh, I bet their mind is still filled by whatever happened last night…

“Uh, this might be a weird question,” MC begins sheepishly as Rin just keeps staring at them unamusedly. “But, do you know any kind of salve or medicine that can help with these mosquito bites?” They ask, scratching at the marks on their neck.

Rin blinks. There’s no way that excuse would work on them. “Really?” They reply skeptically as they gesture at MC’s neck. “You’re bitten by mosquitoes in your penthouse?”

“I know right? I don’t even know how they managed to get in considering my penthouse is like… at the top floor of a skyscraper,” MC agrees, missing the point Rin is insinuating. “Probably through the elevator or the air vent or something. Anyway, Uncle Luka said he’ll personally get a professional pest extermination service to deal with that.”

Well, Rin did catch their father talking with Luka on the phone about choices of professional pest extermination services available in the city. For some reason, Luka asked their dad as if he knows anything more about it than Luka does. Maybe MC is telling the truth and it’s their paranoia and distrust running rampant once again…

Rin uncrosses their arms—when did they even cross them in the first place? “Uh… Tiger balm works wonder for bug bites,” Rin advises.

“Tiger balm, huh?” MC repeats. “Alright, I’ll just go get it at the nearest drug store. Be right back,” they say before swiftly making their way to the elevator.

Meanwhile Rin is left standing there, still processing what has just happened in the span of a few minutes.

Santana

“Hey, Santana!” MC greets them as they walk over to where Santana is standing.

Santana is already cringing inside at the potential awkwardness of the conversation. They’ll still try their best to try talk normally with MC, but it’s kinda hard with the hickeys still heavy in their mind.

“Um… Hi, MC,” they greet back cordially.

“So, how was your night? Had enough sleep?” MC asks them.

“Well, like usual,” they answer distractedly. “How about you? Seems like you had a wild night…” They gesture at the general direction of MC’s neck.

Oh my God, Santana! What the heck are you doing? Asking about the thing you wanted to avoid talking in the first place?! You idiot!

“Oh, you won’t believe this,” MC begins enthusiastically. “So, I was sleeping pretty soundly for like half the night, before my neck started to feel really itchy. I kept getting dragged out of sleep as I scratched at it. Woke up the next morning, and lo and behold, I just got frickin bitten by the most vicious mosquitoes of Elysium City,” they complain, tilting their head a bit to show them of the “hickeys” which turn out to be mosquito bites.

“Huh?” Santana remarks intelligently as they stare at the marks. Okay, now that they can see them better and closer, they do seem like bug bites instead of hickeys.

“I know right?” MC agrees, with… what? Santana is not sure because their mind is blank right now. “Don’t ask me how the mosquitoes managed to break into my penthouse, which, mind you, is located at the top of a skyscraper.”

“That… That is indeed weird,” Santana replies, chuckling in a mix of amusement and relief. It seems like their fear is unfounded after all.

MC continues their rant about the pesky mosquitoes and their plan on eradicating them from their penthouse. Santana just smiles softly as they listen to every word.

Skylar

Skylar quickly makes their way to MC before anyone else manage to make a conversation with them. MC stops in their track as they notice Skylar approaching.

“Hey, MC!” Skylar greets in faux-cheeriness.

“Oh, hey, Skylar,” MC greets back. “What’s up?”

“Well, I should be the one asking you that,” Skylar says, the grin on their face feels very strained but they hope it won’t show and that it still looks charming on the surface. “Who’s the lucky person?” They ask straight to the point, gesturing at the general area of MC’s neck.

“Certainly not me,” MC groans as they rub at their neck. “Just had one of the worst nights of the month.”

“Oh?” Skylar prompts, hopefulness crammed into that one single sound.

Inside, they’re gleeful though. It seems like whoever MC was sleeping with last night must’ve sucked balls—no possible pun intended. Well, this is their time to shine! Skylar would be more than happy to show MC how it’s really done!

“Yeah! I kept waking up at the middle of the night because these annoying mosquito bites were so damn itchy!” MC complains, scratching at their neck again.

Skylar nods before stopping. Wait, what? Mosquito bites? “What?” They ask, dumbfounded. The marks… they’re not…

MC doesn’t seem to notice Skylar’s confusion as they continue ranting, “I don’t even know how they managed to get in! My penthouse is located at the top of a fricking skyscraper!”

A sense of relief floods through Skylar, and their strained grin has shifted into a mischievous one. “Well, I know of a remedy to help with the bites.”

“Wait, really?” MC looks at them curiously. “What’s that?”

“I heard kisses can work wonder.” Skylar winks before pursing their lips and making kissy noises. “I’m always available to help, you know. Just give me a call whenever you’re ready.”

Skylar can practically see the blood surging up to MC’s cheeks. “Y—You—” they stammer. “You idiot! T—That’s not real! If you’re not going to help, then I’ll go to buy some real medicine for these bites instead!” MC harrumphs adorably, turning away to walk to the elevator.

Aww, MC is soo cute! It makes Skylar feels warm and gooey inside as they chuckle to themself. “Well, my offer will always be open! Whether you have more bug bites in the future or not!” They call out to MC’s receding back.

MC doesn’t even turn and just flips them the middle finger instead before stepping inside the elevator. Oh, they love MC.

[prepareforspamcalls]

Threw up

(3 year old Xavier wakes up Lilli when he threw up. This one is sweeter guys I promise.)

Peeps?: @myluckymoon @city-of-c0rpses

I should have expected this any time soon. Sure, go ahead and throw you 3 year old son into a daycare midwinter when every other child is sick and said 3 years old has the habit of putting multiple things in his mouth. Go right ahead, but don't be surprised once he gets sick. Is what I would have said to mom and dad when I woke up to Xavier coming in my room.

He was awkwardly standing by the door, holding a blankie in one hand while looking at me with wide eyes. I mumbled to myself, turning on my nightstand lamp before rubbing my eyes. I could see that his mouth was a mess as well.

"Thwew up." He stated in a drowsy way, coughing without using his arms. I sigh and got up, sliding on my slippers and kneeling down near him.

I gently checked his forehead, he sniffles. He was burning up. I sigh again. "Where did you throw up?" I asked whole combing his hair.

"Bed..." He mumbled, coughing again on my arm this time. Ew.

I gave a nod and stood up straight. Xavier looked up at me and gave me grabby hands. I lean down and picked him up, though it's hard to carry him sometimes. I walked down to his bedroom, opening the door and turning on the lights. Just as I expected gross vomit on the bedsheets. I put him back down as I go over to pick up the bedsheets.

"What a mess. You wait here while I go put these in the wash." I said to Xavier, piling up the nasty sheets before leaving the room and heading downstairs. Though Xavier was trying to follow me downstairs. The thing is, he's slow at it descending, holding onto the railing and taking one step at a time per every 3 minutes.

Poor thing, by the time he got to the final step of the stairs, I had already put the sheets in the wash and was already heading back upstairs. I picked him back up, going upstairs to the bathroom. I put him on the sink and opened the medicine cabinet. Shuffling around, I grabbed the stuff to treat stomach bugs and colds. It was a liquid medicine. Grape flavor, to be exact.

"Alright drink this. This should help." I hold up a small cup of the medicine to Xavier, who shook his head.

"Don't wanna. Yucky." He stuck out his tongue in discomfort.

"Yeah and I don't want to wake up at 6:30 in the morning for school, but I gotta. Now come on, drink the medicine or else I'll tell Elora on you."

That seemed to work, since he took the medicine and chugged it down. He still stuck his tongue out when he handed me back the cup. "Good job. See it wasn't that bad." I stated while washing the cup.

He did the grabby hands again, and I picked him up, carrying him to my room. He starts to cling to me, and I stroke his hair. I lay down on bed, just holding him till he fell back asleep. Once, I was sure he was dead asleep. I rolled out of bed and grabbed a frozen wet rag, gently placing it on his forehead.

I didn't go to school the next day. Probably because I slept on the floor. Oh, and I woke up with a cough as well. At least someone got to sleep better that night.

[beautifulgiants]

“You’re a RockStar, Man”: Michael Shannon, in Conversation With Austin Butler

By Austin Butler

Photographed by Chris Black - Styled by Marcus Allen - January 8, 2025

Emilio Parka in Hay Bales Loro Piana. Vintage Loro Piana Shirt Talent’s Own.

Documentarian Joshua Oppenheimer’s first narrative feature, The End, is an outlandish, post-apocalyptic musical that stars Michael Shannon as Father, an energy scion at the helm of an elite family of survivors, still living amongst their treasured possessions (just now in an underground bunker). Grappling with guilt, parenthood, and a stranger poking around outside, Shannon puts his permanent expression of bewilderment to good use, whilst singing to the tune of the world’s end. The role probably couldn’t have been a better fit for the beloved Southern actor, an eccentric who’s spent his life deeply immersed in music, and a permanent state of anxiety about climate change. “I try to pick things that are provocative and make people consider our common trials and tribulations, because I know that I’m not going to be the one that comes up with the molecule that replaces the atmosphere or somehow gets greenhouse gases to disappear,” he told his friend and former co-star Austin Butler on a call just before the new year. “The only thing I can really do is, through my work, try to keep these concerns at the forefront.” In conversation, the two went deep on Shannon’s eternal love of jazz, coming up in Chicago’s “spontaneous theatre” scene, and whether or not he’ll one day host Saturday Night Live.

———

MICHAEL SHANNON: Hey, man.

AUSTIN BUTLER: Hey.

SHANNON: Where are you at?

BUTLER: I’m in Los Angeles. Are you in New York?

SHANNON: Yeah, I’m in New York. I’m just home for the holidays, taking it easy.

BUTLER: That’s nice. How lovely.

SHANNON: Are you working?

BUTLER: I just finished working in New York, actually. I was working on a Darren Aronofsky film, so I just got back to Los Angeles about two weeks ago.

SHANNON: Oh, wow. Cool. What were you doing with him?

BUTLER: We’re doing this movie that’s based on a novel called Caught Stealing. It’s basically a thriller that takes place in the ’90s in New York.

SHANNON: Okay.

BUTLER: Yeah. I think the last time you and I saw each other was in New York when we saw Jodie Comer’s play, Prima Facie.

SHANNON: Oh, right. Was that before or after Godot?

BUTLER: Oh, that must have been before, because the next thing I was going to say is, I don’t know if I got to tell you how brilliant you were in Waiting for Godot.

SHANNON: Oh, thank you. I know you came, but I don’t think we got to visit afterwards.

BUTLER: You and Paul both were just extraordinary. It was a work of creative, comedic, and dramatic genius.

SHANNON: Oh, thank you, Austin. Thank you for coming.

Alpe di Mera Halfneck Sweater in Green Under Water and Alpe di Mera Beanie in Green Under Water by Loro Piana.

BUTLER: I thought about it for weeks and weeks after. It really stuck with me as one of my favorite performances I’ve seen in a long time. But I’m bummed I never got to see you in Bug or Killer Joe or these performances that have gone down in history.

SHANNON: Yeah, that was a while ago. Somebody just was talking about Killer Joe last night, but that was back in ’98.

BUTLER: Well, I know you’ve probably been answering the same questions over and over, so I wanted to do this differently today. Maybe you want to talk about music a little bit?

SHANNON: Oh, okay. I’m up for that.

BUTLER: I texted Jeff Nichols and Paul Sparks and I said, “Peel back the layers of Mike Shannon for me a little bit.” I said, “What questions would you have for him?” And one thing Paul Sparks told me is how much you love jazz.

SHANNON: I do. I mean, I love all genres of music, but jazz is probably at the tip-top for me, and I love being here in New York City and getting to go to the Village Vanguard. And I love the fact that every time I try to get tickets there, it’s sold out, which means that people are still going and people still care about that music.

BUTLER: I was just having a conversation with a buddy the other day who’s going to be opening a jazz bar in London, and he was saying that he noticed that in a lot of these jazz places, you can’t have conversations now. It’s very much a performance, and he said, “But jazz is one of those forms of music that is actually the most conversational.” And it started making me think, “Well, if you were having a great conversation, what would be some of the best jazz albums to have on?”

SHANNON: Well, clubs now have these no conversation policies, which I understand because they’re concentrating pretty hard and trying to come up with a miracle, basically. I can’t imagine there was less respect back then, but I guess it wasn’t as sanctified as it seems to be nowadays. But if you listen to a lot of old live records you hear conversations on them. It always cracks me up when I hear these old records that are just legendary masterpiece performances and people are just sitting there shooting the shit. But there’s so many records I could think of. A lot of times when I’m doing acting stuff, I find music to inspire me based on whatever it is I’m doing.

BUTLER: Do you play jazz at all? Because I know you sing.

SHANNON: Yeah, I was in a jazz band when I was in high school. I played the bass, but that was just for a couple of years.

BUTLER: Okay. And then you play guitar as well, right?

SHANNON: Yeah, but I never studied it formally. I feel like every actor plays a damn guitar.

BUTLER: It’s an easy thing to bring around with you. I haven’t been on this side of the interview process, getting to interview somebody else, even though this just feels like having a conversation, but it meant that I got to spend the last week going on a deep dive of Michael Shanon and [Shannon’s band] Corporal–

SHANNON: Oh, boy.

Vintage Loro Piana Shirt Talent’s Own. Ezio Pants in Creamy Cashmere Mélange Loro Piana.

You toured with him last year, right? Doing R.E.M.?

SHANNON: Yeah. Last year was the 40th anniversary of R.E.M.’s album Murmur, and it was the 40th anniversary of this club in Chicago called Metro, and the first show at Metro was R.E.M., so we put together this performance to commemorate the 40th anniversary of everything and it went over pretty good. And then Jason’s agent was there and he said, “You guys should tour this.” And we did. So now we’re touring this year because it’s the 40th anniversary of Fables of the Reconstruction.

Valduggia Halfneck Sweater in Pale Latte, T-Shirt, and Bia Pants in Dusty Chestnut Loro Piana. Belt Talent’s Own.

BUTLER: What time of year are you doing that?

SHANNON: Our first show is on Valentine’s Day of 2025. We’ll be at Pappy and Harriets in Joshua Tree.

BUTLER: Oh, yeah. I just drove by there the other day.

SHANNON: And the next night we’ll be at the Bellwether in L.A., and it goes a month from Valentine’s Day.

BUTLER: Well, I’ve got to come to one of those shows. Maybe I’ll drive out to Joshua Tree and see you guys.

SHANNON: I hear that place is cool. I’ve never been there.

BUTLER: I’m so excited to finally get to see you on stage as a rock star.

SHANNON: I mean, I’m borrowing a lot, but it tickles me because all the members of the band have seen us do the show and a few of them have actually gotten up and played with us. They seem to get a kick out of it, so it’s cool.

BUTLER: Two last things, and then I’ll let you go.

SHANNON: Okay.

BUTLER: Jeff told me that your improv comedy is unparalleled.

SHANNON: Oh, really?

BUTLER: Yeah. He heard a legend that there was an improv duo in New York and that when one would get sick, they could call you and you could fill in for either of them. And he says his films are so precisely scripted that he doesn’t often get to see you improv in that way. His life’s dream is to have you host Saturday Night Live. Would you like to?

SHANNON: They have never asked me, Austin.

BUTLER: They’ve got to.

SHANNON: They’ve never asked me once.

BUTLER: Really? Would you want to do it?

SHANNON: I mean, at this point, I’m like, there’s a statute of limitations, man. If I did do it, I’d have to bitch about how long it took for them to ask me to do it. But yeah, I’d do it. I mean, I know so many people that have been on that show, and I came up acting in Chicago. My theater that I’m a member of is a block away from Second City, and we all used to go to the same bar, all them improv folks.

BUTLER: Man, I would love to go see that.

Flavio Puffer in Grigio Pietra, T-Shirt, Reinga Pants in Scottish Tundra Mélange, and Venice Walk Loafer in Naturale Loro Piana. Belt Talent’s Own.

decades. When I was a teenager, I was canvassing for this Public Interest Relations Group and I would go door to door asking people, “Don’t you want clean air and clean water and all these things?” Of course, I was asking for money, which is always irritating, but my heart was in the right place, and so many doors just slammed in my face. I was like, “How do people not care about this?” It confounded me. So a lot of the work I’ve done has been like, “Hey everybody, think about this.” I try to pick things that are provocative and make people consider our common trials and tribulations, because I know that I’m not going to be the one that comes up with the molecule that replaces the atmosphere or somehow gets greenhouse gases to disappear. That’s not me. I could go back to school tomorrow and study for 20 years and I’m not going to come up with anything that’s going to help a damn lick. The only thing I can really do is, through my work, try to keep these concerns at the forefront. Have you ever felt that way, or does art just ask more questions? I don’t know.

BUTLER: I don’t know. All I can know is my own experience of it. And I felt it watching your movie, where it tills the soil and it overturns something in my mind and in my heart and makes me think about things a little differently. That makes a difference in my life. And I imagine it makes a difference in the lives of many, many others.

Guido Parka and Alpe di Mera Halfneck Sweater in Green Under Water Loro Piana.

SHANNON: But also, I don’t want to be a giant drag all the time. It’s nice when you excite people, or uplift them. 

BUTLER: Well, you do it all, man. It’s been such a joy this last week to explore these different things that I never had seen, from you performing Iggy Pop to you reading that sorority letter. That thing cracked me up. I laughed so hard. You’re an inspiration to all the actors that I look up to, and you’re an inspiration to me, and you’re really putting good stuff out in the world. So, I appreciate you.

SHANNON: That is the damn sweetest thing I ever heard. Thank you, Austin.

BUTLER: Absolutely. I look forward to getting to talk and hang more.

SHANNON: All right, brother. Happy holidays.

———

Grooming: Rheanne White using Layrite at Tracey Mattingly.

Art Director: Oliver Shaw.

Photography Assistant: Chandler Bondurant.

Fashion Assistant: Izaake Zuckerman.

Production Assistant: Jordan Santisteban.

[blondiest]

The year is 2009. The month? August. The day...? I'm so glad you asked. It's the 24th. Birthday of the specialest boy in the whole world (Near. Obviously.)

Near HIMSELF doesn't actually do anything for it, sadly. He's on that grind working with the SPK. No time. Although maybe he makes Rester go pick up a fancy lego set he's had his eyes on for a while. Still, he doesn't actually celebrate — no one there knows it's his birthday, and that's how he would prefer it. He doesn't want anyone to fuss.

HOWEVER. Across the country. In the state of California. In the city of Los Angeles. Sitting on a zebra-print couch inside a highly secret mafia base. Mello is acutely aware that it's Near's birthday. And he's annoyed as all fuck that he's acutely aware of it. Near probably doesn't remember when it's HIS birthday, and he doesn't WANT to remember that it's Near's birthday, but here he is, remembering that it's Near's goddamn birthday.

Still, he's busy, too. All his mafia shit. Collecting evidence (and stealing it from Near through Ratt). Et cetera et cetera. So he manages to keep his mind off of it. For the most part, anyway. But then eventually it gets kinda late, and he's done the things that he can do for the day, so he's about to head back to his apartment. But one of the mafia guys invites him to drink with them.

Normally he says no. Mostly because he doesn't really want to be intoxicated / compromised in front of people that he doesn't really want to have info on him. However. Going back to his apartment alone sounds kind of wretched. So this time he joins them. Except Mello has an absolutely terrible understanding of his own limits / tolerance level so he gets completely blackout drunk :/

I'm imagining he has, like, a place he sleeps in the mafia base sometimes when he doesn't feel like driving back to his apartment (like if he stays late enough that there's not a point). So he wakes up. Horrible hangover. Wretched. He tries to remember the events of the night before; nothing past his third drink (<- a lightweight). He checks his cell phone; he made three calls to Ratt, two of which lasted less than ten seconds and the third of which lasted two minutes. This immediately sets off alarm bells in his head. He's panicking.

So Mello gets dressed and drags himself out of his shitty little makeshift bedroom and starts subtly asking around for what happened the night before. Several of the men are super evasive about it, but after a few well-placed threats, someone finally reveals that he disappeared for thirty minutes and came back with a box that he INSISTED needed to go to the post office first thing in the morning.

Huge wave of cold dread. He asks if the box has already been mailed. The guy is like. Well. Yeah. It's one in the afternoon. You told us to ship it first thing. So it's gone.

Mello is in shambles over this. He starts frantically searching his little makeshift bedroom for clues of what the hell he might have sent Near. In the garbage can he finds a crumpled-up and half-legible lovehate letter. He can't read all of it— some of the handwriting is atrociously messy, other parts a bit smeared— but what he can make out is damning. There are, like, three full sentences about Near's eyes. One of the sentences describes them as "bug-like," which isn't so embarrassing for him, but the other two use words like "captivating" and "enigmatic" and, bafflingly, "celestial."

((a bit ns // fw [not explicit, just suggestive] under the cut))

In addition to waxing poetic about Near's appearance, there's an entire paragraph of him speculating on what Near would be like in bed (the words "clumsy" and "squeaky" and "lousy" all make appearances). That's not great— he doesn't really want to sexually harass / insult his lifelong rival via snail mail, regardless of how celestial his eyes are— but the next paragraph is worse.

Paragraph is a generous description— it's just one very long run on sentence. Don't worry though it's okay you're a weird awkward virgin who would give really bad head I still love you think you're cute and youcould probably learn because I could teach you stuff and as long as you listen to me you'll be fine <- only HALF of the sentence from hell.

Anyways. For a second he's like well, it's here in the trash, so I guess I didn't send it, but it pretty much immediately occurs to him that the one in the trash was a draft, because notably something still did get sent to Near. It's weird that he used a box, but then, he was pretty fucking drunk, and he probably just used whatever was lying around. He goes through the five stages of grief plus three secret additional stages (which are all just him screaming into a pillow, but with varying degrees of anguish / rage / mortification) and then just. Hopes that the letter gets lost in the mail. Tries to forget about the whole thing. Moves on with his life.

A week later, in New York City, Rester brings a package to Near. They don't get packages— anything they receive from the US Government is hand-delivered by someone with clearance, and they always have a heads-up that someone's coming. The box has already been opened— Rester had someone screen it first, had it scanned via x-ray and then opened by someone dressed in head-to-toe biohazard gear in case there was anthrax inside. There wasn't. Rester tells him there's no return address and no name of the sender. Inside the box is a single disposable camera.

Near immediately knows that there is no one it could be from but Mello— no one else who could have figured out where he was. It looks like Mello's handwriting on the box, too, though it's honestly pretty messy, even for him. He doesn't know what could be on the camera, but he presumes it's got to be sensitive information.

He tells Rester he needs the film developed. Emphasizes how important the contents of the camera are to him. It's essential that not a single photo is lost. Rester nods, disappears. Comes back like five hours later with an expression of subdued bemusement. Hands Near an envelope with the photos in it. Looks like he's going to say something, but doesn't. Leaves.

Near opens the envelope. Inside are 30 separate photos of Mello. Most of them don't show any of his face. All of them were taken with flash on. All in front of a mirror.

All shirtless.

He puts the photos back in the envelope and tucks the envelope into his shirt and goes back to work. His face feels hot for a long time after. Distantly he feels disappointed that he can't ask Mello why he went to all the trouble of tracking Near down just to send something like that, but he can't ask his employees to spend their time trying to track Mello down in return for such a trivial personal matter.

Things proceed more or less as they do in canon. Mello kidnaps the NPA director, then Sayu, gets the notebook, kills Ratt and several more members of the SPK, loses the notebook, blows up the mafia base, drags his burnt-to-a-crisp ass to New York, finds Halle. He wants to ask her if Near got a letter a few months back, but he decides against it, because he doesn't want to show his hand. After all, there's a chance it got lost in the mail, or a chance he didn't sign it (though Near would undoubtedly recognize the sender as Mello just by the contents of the letter, and the fact that the letter reached him at all). He's trying to hold onto the possibility that he did not, in fact, send a deranged, multi-page, sexually explicit and obsessive letter to Near. He has to hold onto that hope.

Except when he goes to get the photo he left at the orphanage from Near, there's a weird vibe. A vibe that he can't help but feel is unrelated to him holding Halle at gunpoint and also pointing his gun at Near. The blonde guy that works for Near is giving him an especially judgmental look. Mello gets his photo and gives Near a bit of info and gets the fuck out, but he's haunted for the rest of the day by the knowledge that yes, Near totally got that fucking letter.

So he writes another letter. Makes it EXTREMELY clear that all of the things he said about Near's eyes being captivating and celestial were JOKES, and that he DOESN'T want to fuck Near and is not in love with him. Gives the letter to Halle to give to Near with express instructions not to open it herself. She agrees, takes it to Near.

Near opens the letter from Mello. Right off the bat, he's confused, because this letter mentions a previous letter, and Near never got a previous letter. The box only had the disposable camera in it. That was it. As he continues reading, the bafflement only increases.

By the end of the letter, Near's mind is scrambled, but he has little doubt what he needs to do.

He asks Halle to call Mello and ask him to come back to headquarters. They have some things to talk about.

sorry this is left open ended i simply don't feel like finishing it. please just assume they work things out and fuck nasty. thanks 🥰

[theproductofcreativity]

Glowing Eyes

Hello taking a chance with posting one of the first transformers pics I ever wrote! A huge thanks to @foxespen for helping me so much with writing this! Wheeler, Liam, Cass, and Junior belong to her as well and Lightstreak belongs to me!

~~~~~~~

Wheeler doesn’t always understand human traditions. Even after living there for 10 earth years at this point, some things still don’t always make sense to her. Things like ‘memes’, children, or, in this case, camping. Why build or buy a house and then go sleep in the woods with all the…ugh, bugs crawling everywhere? Just the thought of them made her plating crawl.

However, she still wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. It’s nice to get away and be with the human family she’s grown to cherish. Cassidy and Junior are almost 11, and they’re still always so excited to come to the orchard every year. On top of that, the trips probably do wonders for Liam as getaways from the stress of the cities and the auto shop.

Wheeler reflects on this as she watches the campfire’s flames dance in the dark, little chunks of burnt marshmallow and hot dogs charred in the pit. Suppose she could add ‘burning your food to a crisp’ to the list of things she doesn’t understand about humans. Oh well, the kids seem to be having fun. “Careful with the sugar, kids, I doubt your old man can keep chasing you around the forest in the middle of the night forever.” She laughs as the old man gives her a glare. 

“Ah, let ‘em live, woman! ‘Sides, that extra energy can come in handy in case you gotta outrun a monster.”

“Monsters?” Junior says through a mouth full of marshmallows.

“Liam, don’t.” Wheeler warns flatly. “Because I’m gonna end up being the one needing to ‘protect’ them tonight.”

“Fine, fine, I guess they won’t get to hear about the Detroit Banshee.” 

“The Detroit Banshee?”

Oh, Primus, here we go.

The older man leans forward. “ That’s right, she lives in these very woods! They say that long ago, a light shot from the sky and into these woods, and that’s when… she appeared.” He gestures to the trees surrounding them. “First, you hear the branches creak, and then a ghostly wail.”

Liam shoots Wheeler a pointed wink. She rolls her optics and turns her fans on, startling the children at the light whirring sound.

“Then after that, you hear the faint sound of a woman crying. Just about the saddest cry you’ve ever heard. The kind of cry that makes you want to run off and help her.” Some critter scuttles around just behind them, sending the kids closer to Wheeler. “But that, there, is her trick. To lure you closer and closer…” He leans in, his voice softening to a whisper with every word. “Until the last thing you see is a pair of ghastly, Red eyes… and then-” Liam jumps forwards, arms stretched out towards the kids. “She Gets Ya!”

The kids screech, hurting Wheeler’s audio components as they climb and cling to her. Liam doubles over in laughter, earning a glare from his twins. “DAD, QUIT IT!”

“Hehahaha! Oh you kids are too easy!” Liam cackles.

“Yeah, thanks Liam, now they really aren't going to sleep.” Wheeler sighs.

“No problem, Wheels!” He wipes the tears from his eyes. “Now, they ain’t gonna be running around those woods, now.”

Wheeler rolls her optics for the umpteenth time, servos patting the children’s backs to sooth them. “Come on, guys, your old man is just messing with you. There’s no such thing as a ‘Detroit Banshee’”

“B-but, how do you know that? I mean, there’s such a thing as you, so who knows what’s out there?!”

“Gee, thanks kid.” Wheeler answers dryly. “ Well, it’s probably about time we get to sleep. Or at least however much we can get when your old man starts sawing logs.” The kids giggle as Wheeler pushes them to their little tents. “I’ll keep the fire going for a bit longer so you kids can see if you need it.” The kids reluctantly nod as they wish the two goodnight and crawl into their sleeping bags.

“You know you can always live a little, right? Scary stories are a rite of passage for camping.”

“Well we’ll see how smug you’ll be when you have to wash their sleeping bags because they were too scared to go to the bathroom. Now you get to bed too, you old fart, if you wanna make it to the lake at a good time tomorrow.”

The senior grumbles about her needing to get off his back, but goes to his tent nonetheless.

Wheeler finds herself staring up into the night sky… this world is strange, the people on it even stranger. She supposes she should feel alienated, after all being a literal alien. Oddly enough, she’s never felt more at home. She’s never able to connect with any of the bots on Cybertron, always feeling like she was unwelcome on her own planet. Of course, this world isn’t perfect. Wheeler is sure there’re plenty of people that don’t want her here, but the people that do make it pretty impossible to care.

But still, some things she was just unable to connect with them on. There isn’t much she could do about it, but sometimes she thinks it might be nice to have someone that understands how she feels in those moments…

Wheeler is brought out of her thoughts by loud snoring, glancing at her family to see them all fast asleep. Oh well, there isn’t much use dwelling on it now. She grabs the bucket of lake water and dumps it on the fire. Once fully extinguished, she lays back on the tarp covered ground and lets her optics close as she drifts into recharge.

 -------

“Wheeler… Wheeler!” Her blue optics blink as she feels little hands smacking at her faceplate. She pushes them away and turns over. Alas, it is in vain. The tiny hands continue to torment her. “Wheeler!”

She lets her optics stay open this time, staring back at the scared little faces in front of her.

“Alright, alright, I’m up. Who needs to go to the bathroom?”

“No, Wheeler, it’s the Banshee! We heard her!”

Wheeler groans, “No, it’s not.”

“Yes it is! Listen!” 

Wheeler loves these two to death, but she swears that she’s gonna strangle them one day. Still she sits up and listens around. “I don’t hear any-” 

Wheeler freezes as a soft sob rings through the trees.

“O…ok some weird animal is making noises.” She stands with a sigh, knowing she was gonna have to check it out. “Just stay here, I’ll go shoo whatever it is away.” Wheeler follows the sound.

Most likely it has to be an owl, or some other bird. Wheeler counts herself lucky that most animals out here aren’t that big. Especially since she isn’t that tall in comparison to other cybertronians, only standing at about 13 ft. Hopefully it isn’t something like a bear, she really isn’t in the mood for trying to scare one of those away.

As she nears the source of the crying, slowing her speed to a creep. As she carefully brushes some branches out of the way, and freezes.

That wasn’t a fucking animal…. It was a cybertronian…. And a big one. A flier with scarred purple armor hunched over on the forest floor. 

She needed to go back quickly and get the Jacksons out of here. Wheeler begins to back away, but in her silent panic, fails to notice the root her ped was now hooked on. She yelps as she falls, her wheel getting stuck in the root. She starts to yank her ped, only to freeze as the glowing red eyes zone in on her. The figure stood to her full height.

Shit, she was really tall!

“Who are you?! What are you doing here?!” a blaster is now in her face, furthering her panic.

“H-hold on! I’m not here to cause any trouble!”  Her optics trail to the insignia on the bot’s chassis, or at least what is left of it. Wheeler recognized the Decepticon emblem, but it was heavily scratched.

“Hey! Optics up here, brat!” 

Wheeler’s optics flew back up. “B-Brat?!”

“Who sent you?”

“Wha- no one sent me! Can you please get that thing out of my face?!” Yeah, maybe it was a bad idea to back talk the bot with a blaster aimed at her, but Wheeler was also freaking out. She took a deep breath before continuing. “My designation is Wheeler. And you?”

The bot stared her down for a minute, clearly skeptical, before lowering her blaster. “...Lightstreak.”

“Now that wasn’t so hard, was it? What are you doing out here? Wasn’t exactly expecting to see a con out this far.”

“I am not affiliated with the Decepticons. And I could say the same for you. I didn’t pick up on any autobot or con signals out here.”

“Yeah, cause I’m neither. I left Cybertronian space a long time ago to get away from all that bullshit. And stop avoiding my question.” 

"Hm. At least you've got half a processor in your helm. And the reason I'm out here is precisely none of your business." Despite her harsh tone and words, she knelt down and got Wheeler's ped unstuck from the root before standing and offering a hand to help Wheeler up. "Now get up. You're small enough as it is and I'd rather not talk to you when you're all the way on the ground."

Wheeler’s brow ridge twitched, but she decided not to say anything. She takes the offered servo, slightly surprised at how gentle Lightstreak was being. Before she could say anything, the bushes behind them rustled.

“Wheeler! Where are you?!”

“Did you get eaten by the banshee?!”

Lightstreak retreats back to the shadows as Cassidy and Junior pop out of the shrubbery. 

“Wheeler! You’re not eaten!” The two run up and cling to her stabilizers.

“Of course not, you dorks. There’s no banshee out here.” She shook her head.

Cassidy looks behind Wheeler and screams while pointing.

“THE BANSHEE!” Wheeler turns back and sees Lightstreak’s optics. Great! Now she had two piss scared little kids and a giant ex con.

“Uh… hey, can you come out for a sec! Just so these brats will calm down. I promise these two aren't venomous or whatever!”

Lightstreak hesitated for a moment. She wanted to just leave, but she didn't want the children to be scared. She really had no qualm with humans.

Slowly, she stepped out from the shadows.

"Really? Banshee? Not the most creative nickname I've been called, but I think I like the sound of it."

The kids peek out from behind Wheeler, “Another robot?”

“Yep. Another robot. In fact she’s an alien like me, and therefore not a banshee. Which means you can go back to-”

“Wait!” Junior interrupted. “You’re an alien like Wheeler?”

“I…Suppose I would be an alien to you, yes.” It wasn’t exactly the reaction Lightstreak was expecting. She especially didn’t expect the children’s look of curiosity to melt into pure excitement as they rushed to her before either bot could make a move.

“That’s so cool! How long have you been here? Are you and Wheeler related?” Cassidy asked quickly.

“Huh? No we’re-”

“And you’re so big! Do you also turn into a scooter but like a giant scooter? Can we ride the giant scooter?” Junior cut Lightstreak off with his own rapid fire.

What is with these two?! “That’s not-” 

“Do you live in the woods? Do you have a place to go?” The twins gasp in unison and whip around to Wheeler. “Can she come back with us? Please, please, please, please!” They begged.

Wheeler felt her brow twitch more. “ Guys, now come on- we don’t- it would be rude-” The little pouts bore into her spark… ugh she better not regret this.

“... fine.” the two cheer. “IF she is ok with it.”

“Absolutely not! I am not going anywhere with-” The kids turn their puppy dog stare on to Lightstreak. And by the allspark, she has no idea what she’s looking at or why it makes her feel bad for not agreeing. “...fine, I'll go with you.”

The two squeal in excitement, jumping around their new friend. Wheeler groans, the sugar rush decides to kick in now? This was not how she thought the weekend was gonna go.

“Alright then, come on.” Wheeler motions for Lightstreak to follow her as she picks the two children up. “The camp site isn’t that far from here.”

As they walk the kids turn to face the flier. “My name’s Cassidy, this is my baby brother, we call him Junior.”

“Hey, you’re only 12 minutes older than me!”

The young girl ignores him. “What’s your name?”

“Lightstreak.”

“Do you turn into a giant scooter?”

“No, I turn into a jet.”

Junior gasped, “ Can you fly us around?”

“Not happening, squirt.” Wheeler shuts him down, earning a whine.

Cassidy jumps in, “Is that why you’re so tall?” 

“Yep.” Lightstreak wasn’t sure how much they knew about Decepticons, but regardless she didn’t need to indulge them on the specifics of flier coding genetics. “Are all humans this chatty?”

“Just the obnoxious ones.” Wheeler retorts, earning a chuckle from the larger bot.

“You’re just mad cause she’s bigger than you!” The children both blow raspberries at her, earning a full on laugh from Lightstreak. 

“Well, if Wheeler here is a scooter then it makes sense why she’s so small and adorable. I bet I could carry her around in my subspace.”

“Try it and I’ll dismantle your legs.” Wheeler shot a glare over her shoulder strut. 

Lightstreak needs to watch herself, she’s starting to like these three.

[cloudlessly-light]

Nobody else (7/7)

A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who's read and interacted with this story, this is the final chapter and I hope it doesn't disappoint!

I'll be back with my normal filth hopefully ASAP!

Title: Nobody else Summary:It’s because of them that she keeps fighting. Because of all of them.

An Ian Doyle arc AU. Word count: 3,1k   Rating: Mature Warnings: Violence, guns, knives, reference to blood, injury and broken bones. Mention of throwing up. Canon typical violence. Hospital stays.

2011 (2 weeks ago)

“What about city hall?”

“Huh?” She’s brought back from her daze by the sound of Aaron’s voice coming from the bathroom. “Sorry what?”

“City hall, for our wedding?” Aaron comes out drying his hair with a towel around his lower half but stops as he looks at his fiancé, she looked pale he noticed. “Are you alright sweetheart?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” She lies. She was anything but fine. Less than an hour ago she had sat across from Ian Doyle in a park, a man she thought she would never have to see again. The team was already looking into him, but no one knew about her connection to him. He had been so casual about his promise to end her, had enjoyed as her eyes widened in fear at the mention of Jack. He was back to ruin her and she needed to stop him before it was too late.

“Are you sure?” His eyebrows furrow as he studies her. “You look like you’re going to be sick.” The words are barely out before she rushes past him and seconds later he hears her heave into the toilet. He hurries after her, holds her hair and gently strokes her upper back. “You must have caught something from Jack’s friends.” He mumbles and she nods once she’s caught her breath, her forehead leaning on her forearm on the toilet.

“Yeah, that must be it.” She offers him a smile before letting him help her up to stand. “It’s probably just a bug.”

She hates lying to him, hates that he looks at her with nothing but love and trust and adoration. But she couldn’t tell him about Doyle, the danger was too great, there was too much she was still under oath not to disclose. She loved him and Jack more than anything in this world, and she would do anything to protect them. Even if that meant sacrificing herself.

She packs a bag the following day while Aaron is at work, hides it in the closet that neither of them ever uses downstairs.

When she leaves two days later, she leaves her engagement ring on his dresser with a note.

I have to kill him, I love you. Em.

*

She’s standing in the doorway, there’s music coming from somewhere and she feels his arms behind her, holding her close. He’s her safe space, her home, he’s what made her believe in love again.

“You’re home.” He kisses her shoulder softly and then lets her turn in his arms.

“Not yet. Soon I hope.” Her arms wrap around his neck and his forehead falls against hers. She breathes him in with a sigh, her eyes closing as she lets herself fall into the familiarity of him. They stand together for what feels like a lifetime and yet like no time passes.

“You shouldn’t have run.” He tells her quietly and she nods, wordlessly agreeing.

“I know. I was trying to protect you.”

“You have to keep fighting.” His words are soft and quiet, but she hears the hint of worry.

“I will.” It’s a promise she refuses not to keep. Because they were closer, she could feel them.

“I love you so much sweetheart. Don’t ever forget that.”

She doesn’t get the chance to say it back before he’s gone.

*

2011

She wakes in a panic, heaving for breath as she sits upright. For a few seconds she’s back in the cabin, Aaron was gone, she wasn’t home yet and she feels dread seep through every inch of her body. But then she blinks and as her eyes adjust to the darkness she sees the familiar dresser to her right, feels the warmth of his body next to her. She was home, in their bed.

It was the first night spent at the house since she was rescued, a whole week later. She was happy to be out of the hospital, so relieved to sleep in a bed that was big enough for the both of them.

“Sweetheart?” The sound of his voice calms her further as he sits up next to her. He presses a kiss to her shoulder. “You’re okay.”

She nods wordlessly and leans into him. He wipes the sweat off her forehead gently, staying close as her breathing evens out.

“I’m sorry for waking you.” Her lips turn into an apologetic smile even as he shakes his head at her.

“Was it a nightmare?” He ignores her apology because it wasn’t a necessary one. She had always had dreams, sometimes nightmares and he only expected them to become more frequent now.

“Yes, no, I- I’m not sure I can’t really explain it.” She chuckles tiredly at herself and slowly lays back down to rest her head against the pillows.

“Want to try?” He lays back down too, but stays on his side, his head propped up on his hand.

She sighs heavily, her eyes locked on the ceiling. They still hadn’t talked much about her time with Doyle, he knew that she was beaten, marked and burned but not much else. He had managed to piece most of it together, evidence at the house and burnt bodies and Emily’s injuries making it easy.

“When I ran, my only thought was to kill him, because he had threatened you and Jack, our life.” She twists her engagement ring on her finger around nervously under the covers, but his larger, warmer hand found its way to hers and she interlocked their fingers. Her grip was probably too tight, but he didn’t say anything. He was her anchor, the one thing keeping her steady.

“But Clyde and Tsia refused to let me go alone. Tsia wanted revenge on them for killing Jeremy, Clyde always looked after us, even when we didn’t want it.” She chuckles dryly. “And it got them killed.”

He squeezes her hand gently, not interrupting her but wordlessly giving him whatever support she needed, because it wasn’t her fault that they died and he needed her to know that.

“But I dreamt,” She continued, eyes unfocused as she remembered back to her days in that cold cabin, when she almost lost hope. “I dreamt of you, of the team. And when Doyle needed information, it worked think about all of you. It reminded me what I was fighting for.”

“Em,” He’s slow when he lets go of her hand and instead cups her cheek to turn her face enough to look at him. “We never stopped fighting for you either.”

“I know.” Her smile is shaky but it’s there. And that was more than enough for now.

*

“Are you in a lot of pain still?” Penelope asks as she puts the cup of coffee down in front of her. The blonde had been the first one on Emily duty, she had a feeling that her friend had threatened anybody who had tried to take her place.

She wasn’t allowed in the field for another couple of weeks, and even then it would be desk duty for some time and in the meantime, the team had decided to keep her company at home.

“It’s better.” She says as she reaches for the mug and takes a sip and ignores the pain in her ribs as she does. “You don’t have to babysit me.” She tries to joke but when she looks up Penelope is staring her down, her brown eyes filled with concern and tears already. “Please, Pen, don’t.”

“You could have died.” She blinks away her tears and takes Emily’s hand the second she lets go of the mug. “You could have died Emily.”

“But I didn’t, I didn’t because of you.” She strokes her thumb over the top of the other woman’s hand who looks at her with confusion. “You reminded me how beautiful life is and I don’t think I’ve ever thanked you for that.”

It’s silent between them for a few seconds, Penelope’s eyes intent on hers until she smiles and leans back on the couch next to her.

“If you ever try something like this again, I’m calling your mother.”

“Don’t you dare.”

Spencer is next, showing up with more books than she’d ever be able to read and movies in Russian and French.

“I thought these would keep you entertained while you’re still at home.” He smiles, his hair falling over his eyes slightly and he shakes it out of his face.

“Thank you.” She hugs him even as her shoulder strains, still a little tense. “These are great.” She grabs one of the books to read later while they walk into the kitchen.

“How are you feeling?” He puts the bag of books down on the table before heading to the kitchen to put on the kettle.

Emily can’t help the smile on her face as he moves around the kitchen, he was comfortable in their space, had spent many nights there while he was having his headaches because she had wanted to keep an eye on him.

“Thank you.” She says as he places the steaming mug on the table, the teabag she knew they were out of magically in her cup and she raises an eyebrow at him.

“Garcia said you were out.” Spencer shrugs sheepishly and stirs his own cup of coffee that she had put on in preparation for him. “I was scared.” He says next, eyes locked on the brown liquid and she doesn’t expect the words to fall so easily from his lips.

“So was I.” She admits and he looks back at her. “I’ve never been more terrified, but then I thought of you, of how proud I am of you, how proud I am to know you. That helped.”

“Really?” He looks down at the table again, a hint of a smile on his face as his cheeks flush.

“Really.”

Rossi brings a bottle of red wine and they spend an evening together not talking much as they watch one of the movies Spencer had brought a few days earlier. The team is away and it would be the first night she’d spend completely alone in the house. In hindsight she shouldn’t have been surprised that Dave was the one knocking on her front door.

“I never got the point of these movies.” He mutters and she chuckles. It’s the third time he’s said that in less than thirty minutes. But she loves old French movies so he pretends to enjoy them for her.

“It’s romantic.” She argues with a smile. “I’m done with drama and action for a while, let me enjoy the romance.” She means it as a joke, but when she looks back at him he’s turned serious. “I’m okay.” The words are out before he gets the chance to ask and he smiles back at her this time.

“I know.” He pats her knee. “But if you think you’re getting away without the Rossi stare, you’re wrong.”

She doesn’t say that she actually loves his stare, that she loves him as a father. But she thinks he knows. They had never needed many words, but as she looked at him she realized she had never gotten around to ask what she wanted before Doyle came back into her life.

“When Aaron and I get married, will you give me away?” She catches the quick moment of surprise before his smile gets wider.

“I’d be honored, Bella.”

JJ had always loved snacks, she shows up with Cheetos and salt and vinegar chips and popcorn, and a bag of groceries.

“I’ve really missed you.” She says as the blonde unpacks the food and she smiles.

“I’ve missed you too. Things have been… crazy.” JJ grabs a bowl to put the popcorn in. She was hiding something, Emily knew, but she didn’t say anything.

“Are you coming back to the team?” She asks instead and when the blonde slowly nods she feels her face break out into a grin that’s hurting her cheeks.

“But as a profiler, it was the only way now that Seaver is gone, they don’t need a liaison apparently.”

“Is that what you want?” She opens the bag of chips and then walks around the counter to grab two pairs of chopsticks much to JJ’s enjoyment.

“I want to come back, I want to be with you guys again.” She says as they make their way towards the backyard to enjoy the last of the fall sun before it got too cold to sit outside.

“We’ve really missed you.” She says again as she sits down carefully and then grabs a popcorn and plops it into her mouth. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too, Emily. So much.”

She shouldn’t have been surprised that Derek joins her for a morning walk the following week. Time went by too slow, she was going crazy not working. But she had less than a week before she was allowed back at the office, so she had taken to walking twice a day. It helped her clear her head.

“Morning Princess.”

“Should have known you’d show up sooner or later.” She smiles into a hug and doesn’t push him away when he carefully wraps his arm around her shoulder as they keep walking.

“Did you expect me not to?” He’s smiling, but there’s tension there.

“Never.” She bumps her hip against his before putting some space between them. “I figured you’d be forced to come at some point.” She gives him a pointed look and he sighs. He hadn’t been by once since she got home, she hadn’t seen him since the hospital. She knew why, that he had been terrified being the one finding her, and Derek always tried to distance himself when he was having trouble, even from her.

“I-I thought you were dead.” He shakes his head like he’s trying to rid himself of the memories. “When I found you, you were barely breathing, I thought you were dead, that I was too late.”

“Derek-”

“We looked for almost a week but you were gone, not a trace of you. If Penelope hadn’t managed to find that house, you would have been.” Frustration and fear bled into his voice and she looked down at the pavement.

“I know.” She says quietly. “But I needed you safe.”

“And I needed you safe. You’re my partner.” He stops walking and she does too, her eyes finding his.

“I’m sorry.” She takes his hand and he squeezes it once.

“I don’t need an apology, I need to know that you won’t do something like that again.” His dark eyes shine with worry and sadness and she can see everything he doesn’t tell her. He was blaming himself for her being hurt, he and Aaron were similar in that way.

“I promise.” She squeezes his hand again and when his shoulders lower slightly and he relaxes, she pulls him into a hug. His strong arms carefully wrap around her and she smiles into his shoulder. “I promise.”

2012 (4 months later)

Aaron quietly walks through the front door and places his briefcase down on the side table before taking his coat off. It was late, a meeting running long and paperwork that he had to finish taking up most of his night. He expected both Jack and Emily to be asleep so he sneaks up the stairs. As he suspected, Jack was asleep in his room, but a soft light from the bedroom let him know that Emily was still awake.

He knocked once on the door that was ajar to make his presence known.

“Honey?”

“Don’t come in!” He hears her rushed words and he immediately panics.

“Why?” His grip on the doorknob was tight enough for his knuckles to turn white.

“You- you shouldn’t see me in this.” She peeks through the crack of the door, hiding her body behind it.

“What’s going on?” He feels the panic subside as he looks at her, clearly she was alright. When her cheeks started to tint pink and she bit her bottom lip nervously his head tilted slightly to the side. “Emily?”

“I bought a dress, a wedding dress. But I don’t know if I like it.” She watched as he broke out into a grin and she couldn’t help but smile too.

“Well, let me see it.” He placed the palm of his hand against the door. “I know we’re keeping some traditions, but do you really want this one to be one of them?”

She shook her head, she wasn’t much for traditions, she never had been, any traditions they were keeping were because it was important to Aaron.

“Like I said, I don’t know if I like it.” She stepped to the side and let the door swing open. “So you have to be honest.”

When he laid eyes on her, he couldn’t seem to find any words at all, his mouth dropping open slightly. She was always beautiful, the most gorgeous woman he had ever seen, but as she stood in a floor length, white dress he couldn’t help but to stare. The dress was lacy, but simple, hugging her body before flowing down to the floor.

“Is this a good or bad silence?” She laughs as he took two long steps to wrap his arms around her to hug her close to him.

“This is a ‘I think we should take Dave up on an actual venue and not go down to city hall’, silence.” He stamps a kiss to her lips with a smile. “You’re so beautiful.” He kisses her again and when she lets out a soft moan his hands tighten around her.

“That’s the reaction I was looking for.” She smirks as his hands start to move over her body.

“Me wanting you out of that dress and into bed right away?” He mumbles against her lips.

“Exactly.”

Sometimes she still woke up from nightmares, her body and mind were still scarred from what he had subjected her to. But as the weeks had turned into months and the months had turned into a new year, they were moving on.

She fell deeper in love with Aaron every day, they had fewer and fewer bad days. The team also needed healing, but they were moving forward together as a family.

When they said ‘I do’ a few weeks later they were surrounded by all the people who loved them and she was smiling into a kiss with the man who made her believe in the good in the world.

They still weren’t completely healed after Doyle, but they were moving forward. Together.

[scaryscarecrows]

Komodo Protocol

“You seen what they got going on in Demolitions?” Frank asks around his bacon. “Somethin’ real nasty, looks like.”

“No, I’ve been stuck on ‘light duty’ all week.” Antoine rolls his eyes. “You get one bug and everyone’s on your ass.”

“Yeah, well, you shouldn’t have tried breaking out of Medical all those times.”

“Shouldn’t have passed out mid-meeting, either.” Jimmy cackles. “Dude, if you died, we’d be fucked. Riley’s an enabler.”

“Clyde would take over,” the Knight says dryly. Jimmy squeaks. “Meeting at nine hundred.”

Meeting, not assembly. Something’s come up, then, because they had their weekly briefing two days ago. There hadn’t been anything of note at the time; next shipment of drones to Gotham, more than anything. Antoine’s pretty sure it was largely an excuse to hide from Deathstroke, who had left that afternoon anyway.

“Yessir.”

Once he’s gone, Jimmy leans in.

“So? What do you think’s going on?”

“I don’t know. Everything’s on schedule, and I haven’t seen anything weird come up.”

“Think something’s up in Gotham?”

“Maybe.” He finishes his coffee and tries–and fails miserably–at repressing a cough. “I’m fine, coughs linger, that’s not illegal!”

Mark frowns.

“That sounded ugly.”

“That’s what coughs do.” He’s not whining. He’s not. “Leave me alone, I’m better now.”

“I want you in my office after this meeting. Just for a quick check-up.”

“Oh, come on–”

“Forget, and I’ll come find you.”

Ugh. Fine. He’ll go. But he’s not going to like it.

* * *

“What is that?”

“Insurance.”

Okay. Insurance is always good. This, however, appears to be a bigass mine. Three feet in diameter, easy, and well-armored. Could probably withstand a Cobra drone rolling over it.

“Uh-huh,” Frank drawls. “For what.”

“It’s primarily to keep the military from getting involved.”

Antoine’s got news for him: the military, generally, considers Gotham as ‘fend for your fucking selves’ and probably would just pretend they didn’t see anything anyway. But sure. A little extra reassurance is nice.

“Also to keep anyone–or anything–else from stepping in.” Okay, that one’s fair. “It won’t hurt you if you walk on it; the sensors need more weight to activate the electricity.” Oh, it’s electric, too? Wonderful. “We’ll be deploying them pretty early in the night, once the drones have all been deployed.”

“They won’t fuck with the programming, will they?” Jimmy risks poking the thing. “It’s not like an EMP or whatever?”

“It shouldn’t, but I want you, when you map out the patrol route, to try not to run over them. I’ll give you a map of where I want them sometime next week.”

“How many are there?”

“Fourteen.”

Trent whistles.

“Jesus.”

“Gotham’s a big place.” The Knight shrugs. “We’re not shipping these over ahead of us; they go when we do. Clyde, I’m going to be making a special dummy; same sensors, I want to run some tests with the Cloudburst tank. If it comes to that, I’d really rather not blow this entire operation…literally.”

“Very funny, sir,” Frank says dryly. “I’ll make sure she’s ready to roll when you are.”

“Good. You five are dismissed. Drouot, you’re not.”

That doesn’t sound promising.

The others file out, though, leaving Antoine with the boss and a giant, scary-looking mine.

“These are also a contingency.”

And there it is. The boss has contingencies for his contingencies, which is, Antoine guesses, why they’re all still on this crazy crusade.

“Okay?” The Knight holds out a piece of paper with numbers on it. Antoine raises an eyebrow. “What’s this?”

“The activation code to set these all off at once. In the event that I somehow end up incapacitated, unless I explicitly told you otherwise, I want you to initiate the Komodo Protocol: order a retreat and blow Gotham off the map.”

“Sounds like overkill.”

“When dealing with Batman, there is no such thing as overkill.”

“If you say so, sir.” Such an innocuous little paper. Ten digits. Ten digits and boom, one of the largest cities in the world turned into a charred crater. “Does Scarecrow know about this?”

“No, and we’re not mentioning it. If that code needs to be used, he doesn’t need to be informed.”

Well, in all honesty, Scarecrow is the one most likely to trigger this event. Antoine has never trusted the guy. He’s convinced that, Batman be damned, if he saw a chance to poison them all, he’d take it.

“Hopefully it won’t come to that, sir.”

“Hopefully not.” The Knight looks at the mine. “But I’d rather be prepared.”

“Are you sure this is a good idea, boss?”

The boss just laughs.

“Probably not. Look, it’s like the bomb vests. I highly, highly doubt we’ll need it.”

Yeah…the bomb vests have not been mentioned to the troops at large. Voluntary or not, most people are not going to like the idea of a suicide vest being anywhere near them. If it comes down to that, then they’ll worry about it.

“If you say so, sir.” He looks from the paper to the mine again. “Did you need anything else?”

“No. You can go; I think Jones wanted to see you.”

Dammit.

* * *

“I’m sure that by now most of you have become aware of the events at Arkham Asylum.”

Antoine’s voice is hoarse, going in and out a little. He hasn’t slept, not really. Sure, Mark got a power nap out of him, but that’s about it and it wasn’t enough. He looks like shit, too, all washed out and with eye bags big enough to take on a cruise. That’ll happen, when you spend too much time in a chair.

“Batman do that, sir?”

“Yes and no. Before I continue, I want it clear: Batman is now considered a level five threat.”

“We can take him. Right, boys?” A cheer goes up. “Just tell us where he is, we’ll bring his head back in two hours.” 

Ha. Trent disagrees. Bastard’s got clown morals with Bat-bullshit, if he’s still alive–and he probably is–‘taking him’ is going to be a real bitch. It’s doable, probably, it’s just going to be difficult, especially with their best resource on both Batman and Joker being at death’s door.

Antoine’s smile is wintery and the cheer dies down, gives way to an uneasy silence. Trent can’t blame them for that. He’s usually the nice one. Nice is relative, but still.

“What you’ll be up against isn’t Batman anymore,” he says. “Now, I’m sure you all attended the briefing regarding the Joker’s death of TITAN poisoning.” Pfft. Trent knows damn well they didn’t, but that’ll keep them from jabbering. “Before that incident, the Joker supplied hospitals with tainted blood, and apparently gave Batman a transfusion as well. The cure didn’t take.” 

He turns to his laptop and taps a few keys. On screen, the footage Jimmy managed to get from the boss’s helmet earlier on Halloween looms large. Trent shudders. He’s seen some shit in his day, but that–a laughing, maniacal Batman attacking with full intent to kill–is in the running for his personal Top Five WTF. Thankfully, Antoine only lets it play for a few seconds, but those few seconds are enough to quiet the skeptical mutterings.

“That’s what you’re up against now. He will kill you, without a second thought. He has already killed Scarecrow–”

“Shit, we work for Richardson now?”

“No. The Arkham Knight dispatched her before the asylum blew up.”

At least that one stuck. Last thing they need is that vindictive little monster blaming them for what happened to Scarecrow.

“For the moment, we are going to continue as we were. I want drones sweeping the city, checkpoints manned, and watchtowers fully operational. If anybody sees anything, you call in immediately and you wait for backup. Don’t be a hero, your insurance does not cover facial removal.” There’s a smattering of nervous chuckles that Antoine does not join in. “Patrols: minimum of four, do not let each other out of your sight. Someone has to piss, you all go. Someone falls in one of those damn potholes and breaks an ankle, you all come back to base as a group. Understood?”

“Yessir.”

“Good. Any questions?” If they have any, they don’t ask them. Antoine closes his laptop, disconnects it, and turns on his heel. “Dismissed.”

Trent steps in fully as they file out. A few of them flinch, but most of them just keep moving.

“You look like shit,” he says bluntly. “Mark’s right, you need sleep.”

“I’m fine. Anything?”

“Couple of false alarms.”

“So no.”

“No.”

“Damn.” Antoine runs a hand through his hair. “Any change with the boss?”

“Still out. Look…what are we going to do, if he…doesn’t…wake up? Batman’s Gotham’s problem, right?”

Antoine just laughs, a little bitter, and starts towards the door.

“He only got maybe a quarter of the mines. We pull our men out and blow this city to Kingdom Come, see him walk that off.”

“What?”

“Komodo Protocol.” 

Trent’s heard of it. Well, seen it, in packets, but there’s never been any information about it. It’s just come up as, like, the last resort, no specifications.

“That’s what that is?” he demands. “Detonate the mines?”

“If it comes to that, yes.”

“Jesus Christ, man–”

“My orders are to put the bastard down, whatever it takes.” Antoine turns towards the back hallway. “Check in with the Arkham troops again, make sure they don’t need any further supplies. Did you send them a Cobra?”

“Yeah, earlier.”

“Good. Keep me posted.”

“Antoine.”

“What.”

“You’re sure about this?”

Antoine stops and turns around, swaying a little at the sudden change of direction.

“Yeah. If he dies, or doesn’t start waking up in another day or two, I’m calling it. We’ll finish the job one way or the other.” Jesus. “This stays between us for now. It may not come to that and there’s no reason to unsettle everyone.”

Trent nods.

“All right. You sure you’re not gonna grab a nap?”

“I’m fine.”

Yeah. Sure. Whatever. Look, Frank or Mark will probably bring the hammer down soon and when they do, Trent will be right there to enforce Bedtime.

“I’m gonna take a squadron out there,” he says. “Me and Riley: we’re taking some of his guys to investigate the little Batcave thing that turned up this morning.”

“Good. Stay in touch; that lecture goes for everyone.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll find the bastard.”

“Hope so.” Antoine turns back around and starts walking again. “Good luck.”

THE END

[ethicaltreatmentofcowplants]

Watched a few early release reviews last night and my thoughts for the pack seem to be much the same as For Rent.

Femme frame Sims' CAS looks great. Two new heel options that actually look like stuff my Sims would wear and some cute tops and dresses. I didn't really look too much at the masc frame items. It seemed nicely made enough.

Build is Okay but it feels like there needs to be more of it. Actually I prefer For Rent because the furniture is more versatile, but this pack is set out to be more niche so I can't really fault that. A couple of cool items that don't really exist in others (the casing beneath the windows that can actually hold plants) but definitely a wait for the sale. Especially with the $20 price hike here.

In fairness, it didn't seem like people were reporting major glitches this time around, buuut I'm still filing it under Could Cause Problems For Long-Term Saves. Hopefully there's a way to cheat/reset relationship dynamics and a means to turn off autonomous break ups in Settings (especially with the Meanness bug) as I have my chaos saves and my cozy saves.

So yeah. In a perfect world I'd just like the femme cas, a few of the build items and ignore everything else - at least until I know that it won't cause issues. But unlike For Rent, the main gameplay function is so ingrained that you can't really do that.

more on build

With Build my main issue is that it tries to cover two different styles (traditional and modern) so it feels a little thin. Which Get Together did too with the more pub style build and then the club items, but both seemed to be well-covered. City Living also did this with the pricier penthouse/uptown furniture and then the grunged down flea market items, futon bed and kitchen set.

Though in fairness, at this point they're probably assuming it's not going to be your first or only expansion pack purchase. For those I'd recommend Seasons for gameplay and Growing Together for build and CAS. I do like the gameplay for Growing Together but I think that Seasons adds more and that the Growing Together build items go well with the base game.

[reginalusus]

Fuck yeah, musical narrative storytelling.

Spamton's battle themes detail his rise from being small, washed-up and glitchy to big, god-like and powerful.

I really, really enjoy the narrative cohesion in Spamton's battle themes: Spamton, Now's Your Chance To Be A and Big Shot.

In all three of them, we hear Spamton's voice and iconic catchphrase.

In Spamton, his lines are in two pitches that are very high, and don't really resemble what he probably sounds like. This is the track we hear as we're talking to Spamton after he appears from the dumpster. It's such a sleazy, eerie, suspicious-sounding track, that still somehow sounds 'urban', like late-night office vibes. The fact that Spamton's voice is in several notes higher almost details the fact at how nervous he is that he finally has a chance at becoming great again, upon meeting a Lightner. 'Shot' is also several notes deeper. Glitchy, all over the place, unsure, nervous.

Which then leads to...

Now's Your Chance To Be A. This plays when we battle Spamton for the first time. Though, I view this as less of a battle and more of an interaction. An experience. His lines are also in two pitches here, deeper than before. We hear something higher than his usual voice, and what his actual voice may sound like. Still glitchy, but he's a bit more confident this time around, because he has a 'customer'. With a soul too! And they're... talking to him!? Wow! Of course he'd be a bit more sure here.

Also, I love how 'now's your chance' is repeated. He can't exactly finish his sentences - he's still fighting his corruption. The fact that the song name is also a broken sentence details that he's not all quite there.

But then. We give him his new body. And he's 'complete'.

He's a motherfucking Big Shot. Both literally and metaphorically. We all know it's a banger. I love how we only hear how his voice would probably actually sound in this track. Yeah, he still stutters and bugs out, but he's sure of himself now. He's going to kill these damn kids, get Kris's soul, and finally realize himself as a God. Big Shot obviously takes bits and pieces from other songs. Like The World Revolving and Power of NEO. I think the fact Big Shot sounds more like a suffocating, powerful, musical amalgamation (unlike Spamton and Now's Your Chance To Be A, which is generally one-note), details wonderfully what this man's desires are. That, combined with the backdrop of a seedier, darker, corrupted Cyber City fashioned in his image, details his ascent (or descent?) into a power-hungry maniac.

Also, the fact that 'big shot' is obviously the finishing words to 'now's your chance to be a' may show that Spamton thinks he's finally made it. He can finish his catchphrase, because he think he's finished this deal. He thinks he's hit the jackpot. He think he's a big shot now, again.

[miryum]

Sweetheart- Chapter 2

Summary: Jason Todd finds himself in a Groundhog Day situation and it won't stop until he finds his soulmate who's going through the exact same situation. But will you two stop being idiots long enough to too see what's in front of you? Not even the author knows...

ao3 link

Taglist: @susvale

Warnings: nerd references, Alfred and Harley Quinn being awesome, the latter half not being beta-read, but will be edited soon :)

Jason woke up to screaming and shouts. Another ordinary day. “Jason! Get up!” Tim banged on the door. “You’re gonna be late!” Jason groaned and covered his head with his pillow. 

The door flew open and Cass waltzed in. “I think I left my book in here last night.” She started rummaging around the nightstand. 

Jason snuggled into his covers. Then his eyes flew open. “No… you didn’t,” he corrected Cass, sleep evident in his voice. “You read in your room last night. It was two days ago when you bugged me.”

“Then why is my book in your room?” Cass wiggled her found book in his face. Jason glared at the book for a moment before shrugging it off. He must’ve forgotten.

“Come on, you’ll be late to see Y/n!” Dick called from the doorway before running off to shower.

Jason sat up slowly and the covers fell down to his waist. Why was he getting extreme deja vu? 

“Oh, there he is,” Cassandra laughed. “That lovesick fool.”

“Didn’t you say that yesterday?” Jason mumbled. He ran a hand over his face, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He pinched at his shoulders, squirming at the tight muscles. Why were his muscles sore? He didn’t work out yesterday. Maybe they were still sore from beating Damian and Tim. He decided to test his theory, “Hey? What’s for breakfast?” 

“Alfred made pancakes,” Cass said simply. 

“But Alfred never makes the same thing two days in a row,” Jason said to himself.

“Yeah?” Cass was innocent to his inner turmoil. “Yesterday we had omelettes. What’s up with you today?”

“Nothing… nothing.” The room lapsed into odd silence and Jason, tugging on his leather jacket (which he pleasantly found to be clean), suddenly released what was wrong. “Did, uh, do you ever find it weird that Alfred is the owner of a multimillion dollar company and he still makes us pancakes?”

“Do you ever find it weird that Bruce is the economics teacher at our school and you still wind up in Gordon’s office every other day?” Cass started out of the room and Jason followed after her, silently congratulating himself on bringing the conversation back around. 

“Do you ever find it weird,” Damian called from the bathroom, “that Dad quit his job to start teaching the youth of Gotham City and handed his company over to his butler after I was born? Clearly, we know who the favourite is.” 

“Do you ever find it weird that you guys are interrupting my shower?!” Dick stuck his head out of said shower, motioning for Damian to close the door. Jason was baffled at how similar everything was. If he hadn’t heard of soulmate stories, he would think this was all one big prank. Or that he was going crazy.  

“Do you ever find it weird that in a house of idiots,” Tim hopped down the stairs. “I’m able to stay sane?”

“Dude, same.” Cass fistbumped Tim and they shared a secret handshake.

Maybe Jason was going crazy. Did he really think the universe would give him a soulmate? After all his fights with Bruce? After all those nights he snuck out? After all his depressive panic attacks? What soulmate would want him? 

During breakfast, Jason’s bacon was stolen by Damian, yet again. Tim rushed out the door on account of Coding Club and Alfred flipped pancakes while sporting an apron over his suit. 

“Are you alright, Master Todd?” Alfred asked, placing more pancakes in front of him. From the head of the table, Bruce scoffed and straightened his newspaper. He had tried telling Alfred to stop calling them ‘Master,’ but old habits were hard to shake. 

“Probably just anxious about the test he has today,” Damian said through a mouth full of food. “We all know it’s impossible for him to concentrate with beautiful Y/n sitting next to him!” The young boy sighed dramatically. Jason hurled the syrup bottle at him. Dick caught it mid-air before the bottle could do any damage. 

“I remember Miss. Y/n,” Alfred mused. “When are you going to invite her over again?” Jason wasn’t sure who Alfred’s question was directed at- him or Cass- so he kept his mouth shut.

“Can she come over tonight?” Damian asked. “I need help with homework.”

“Didn’t we finish that yesterday?” Bruce asked, setting down the newspaper. 

Damian shoved more pancake in his mouth, mumbling, “not all of it?” 

It was unsettling to pull up to school and see everyone wearing the exact same clothes, having the exact same conversations, and walking the exact same steps. 

You were stepping off the bus, talking to Artemis and Kori. “Go on, loverboy,” Dick snickered, taking Jason’s analysis of the crowd as scanning for you. (Which was also true, not that he would ever admit it.)

“Fuck you,” was his automatic reply.

“Hey, Todd,” Cass called. “When we get back home, I’m gonna re-dye your hair. You’re losing the white streak.”

Jason groaned, thinking of the torture he had gone through yesterday. He hadn’t realised he would have to go through it again.

“What’re you reading today, L/n?” He tried to copy his movements from yesterday, snatching your backpack away from you. In order for his plan to work, he would have to act exactly as he did yesterday.

You slowly scanned him up and down, and Jason couldn’t decipher your expression. It seemed like you were hopeful at first, overanalyzing him, but it was quickly washed away. “Uh, The Fault In Our Stars, a reread,” you said. Jason wanted to believe that the bookmark was farther than where it was yesterday morning, but he shook it off. He probably just wanted to believe it.

“You don’t have to prove it to me, doll,” Jason said. He puffed up his chest, pleased that he could still make you flush at his nicknames. 

“Prove it? I don’t know what you mean.”

“You don’t need to tell me you’ve read it before to prove you’re smart. You’re telling me it’s a reread cause you’re showing that you could be reading harder, more complex books but you “settled” for this one. But don’t worry, doll, I know you’re smart.”

You stilled, before slowly replying, “Thank you. You get good grades, too.”

“How sweet,” Jason placed a hand over his heart, pretending to swoon. “The Lady L/n thinks me as smart as she.”

“I never said you’re as smart as me,” you corrected.

“Care to make a little wager, then?” Jason held open the school door for you. He carefully concocted the wager as he did the day before. Jason went through the rest of the day, trying hard to remember what he did yesterday. But, of course, it wasn’t technically yesterday. It was still Thursday. Only, it was the second Thursday he’d have this week. Geez, this was going to get confusing, he thought.

Meanwhile, you were trying your best to not to have a panic attack. You had woken up to the same texts on your phone and the same greetings from your parents. At first, you had thought it was a big joke that your friends had roped your parents into. You confronted Artemis and Kori on the bus, already frustrated with your parents when they hadn’t let up. Either Artemis and Kori were incredible actors, or something weird was going on. 

Something was nagging at you and when Artemis had pulled you aside and suggested you talk to an adult about it- “Ms. Quinn might know what you’re talking about. She knows a lot of random bullshit,”- you decided that was the best course of action.

“Ms. Quinn,” you approached her after the school day. “Do you know anything about days repeating themselves? Or am I going completely crazy and deserve to be in an insane asylum?”

Ms. Quinn laughed and said, “well, it seems to me as if you might’ve found your soulmate, my young padawan!”

“Padawan? When did I become a Jedi?” You cocked an eyebrow at your favourite librarian.

“You’ve always been my padawan,” Ms. Quinn said, as if it was obvious. She stood up and led you to the non-fiction section. “But I can’t guarantee I won’t lead you to the darkside.”

“Understandable,”

“I always wondered when you would find a soulmate,” Ms. Quinn commented. “You’ll have to invite me to the wedding.”

“Ms. Quinn! I’m not- we’re- I haven’t even met them yet!”

She handed a book to you, smirking. “Alright. Whatever makes you sleep at night. Check the index of this for looping days.’”

“Thanks, Ms. Quinn.”

“Anytime!”

You snuggled up in a corner of the library and flipped open the book, titled, Soulmate Identifiers. The index pointed you to page 42, in which you chuckled to yourself, silently thinking of The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy.

“Is something funny?” A voice asked from above you. You looked up to see Jason standing over you.

“What’re you doing here?” You didn’t answer his question, glaring in suspicion at him. You didn’t see him in the library yesterday, but then again, you were helping Ms. Quinn and probably didn’t run into him.

“I need to check out a book for History,” he explained.

“What’re you doing here, bothering me?” you clarified.

“Can’t I see my sweetheart without her lashing out at me?” Jason asked, laying down next to you and using his backpack as a pillow. 

“No.” 

“Fair enough. What’re you reading?”

“Um…” You paused, wondering if Jason would make fun of you for your choice of book. “I.. don’t know.” 

“You... don’t know?” Jason snickered, eyeing you. Clearly he knew that you were lying, but he allowed you to stay in your dishonesty.

“I don’t know. I just picked it up.” You buried your face back into the pages, trying to mask the embarrassment. Quickly, you scanned the words: While perhaps not the most common or conventional soulmate identifier, Looping Days is a personal favourite of mine. Looping Days happen when two soulmates have ignored their feelings long enough for the universe to take notice. One singular day continues repeating, akin to the famous movie Groundhog Day, however, unlike the movie, both soulmates experience it.

The day keeps repeating until the two soulmates confess their feelings, whether romantic or platonic, to each other and the week continues on, every other person unaware. When the soulmates confess, a soulmark of something significant that happened over the repeating days appears on the wrist. 

The book went onto explain the questions scientists had about this soulmate phenomena, but you had read enough.

In order to escape this supposedly endless Thursday, you had to find your soulmate. 

------

A whimper escaped Jason’s mouth as Cassandra tugged on his hair. He was seated on the toilet while his sister attempted to wrangle him with hair dye. “Woman up,” Cass grumbled.

“Would you tell me if you found your soulmate?” Jason asked softly. 

Cass stopped, eyes meeting Jason’s in the mirror. “You found them?” she whispered. “Who?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “I haven’t found them yet.”

“Why? What’s the indicator?”

“I think it’s time looping. Yesterday was Thursday too. It’s really weird seeing the same things happen all over again. It kind of makes me feel like a god.” he chuckled. “I can predict everyone’s move.”

“Who do you think it is?” Cass yanked on his hair. “‘Cause I’ve heard that whoever you want it to be, that’s probably them.”

“I’m not answering that.”

“Y/n’s here!” Damian screamed out. 

Cass placed a firm hand on Jason’s shoulder to keep him from jumping up to greet you. “Lemme finish!” she scolded. “I’m almost done.”

“But I wanna… okay. Fine.” After a couple of minutes with Cass slapping upside the head whenever he squirmed and wiggled. How was it fair that Damian, Tim, and Dick got to spend time with you? 

“Okay, you’re free to go,” Cass said, but Jason was already halfway out the door. “Sure! I’ll just clean up by myself!” she rolled her eyes. “Wait! Jason!” Jason poked his head back in the bathroom. “To answer your question, yes, I would tell you if I found my soulmate.” Jason gave her a faint, trusting smile. 

Jason took a moment at the top of the steps to compose himself. He subconsciously ran a hand through his newly dyed hair, wondering if you would notice. He noticed you at the kitchen table, hunched over with Damian. “Look what the cat dragged in,” he crooned in your ear. 

You elbowed him in the gut and he groaned at the newly forming bruise. “More like, look what your brother dragged in,” you replied.  

“The scores just came out, sweetheart,” Jason smirked, slipping into the seat next to you. “Shall we see who the victor is?”  Cass groaned loudly as she walked in, opening the snack cabinet. She pulled out a bag of pretzels and poured herself and Tim a bowl. Tim graciously accepted it. 

“No! I need help from my future sister-in-law!” Damian cried. Jason’s heart thumped widely. He hid a smile at the slim idea of marrying you. He couldn’t imagine the image of you being the first thing he saw in the morning and the last thing he saw at night. Were you a cuddly sleeper? Or did you prefer to stay to your side of the bed? What did your morning voice sound like? Did you prefer evening sex or morning sez? He flushed at the intrusive thought. Dick laughed loudly and even Tim pressed his lips together to stop a laugh.

“Damn right,” You held up your hand and Cass slapped it. “Cass and I are getting married and none of you are invited to the wedding. Except Alfred, of course.” 

“Of course,” Cass agreed.

“Just show me your score,” Jason whined. “Please!”

“Fine,” you pulled out your phone. Jason’s leg bounced up and down and Dick raised an eyebrow at him, silently telling him to cool it. “What’d you get?” you asked.

“A 97, but technically a 92.” Jason proudly said. “I got extra credit.” He hadn’t changed any of his answers for fear of getting something wrong. And then maybe you would surpass him. He couldn’t have that.

“Ms. Prince doesn’t give out extra credit!” you exclaimed. “What the hell?!”

“If you ask incredibly nicely and tell her it's for a good cause,” Jason explained. “Then yes, she does.”

“You fucking told her about our bet, didn’t you,” you accused.

“Why yes, yes I did.” Jason smirked and you looked incredibly frustrated.

“What bet?” Bruce asked. 

“Nothing,” both you and Jason answered at the same time Dick launched into an explanation of the wager. Bruce peered at Alfred who gave him a small shrug in response. 

“Just make sure no one gets emotionally hurt, Jason.” Bruce said. 

“How come you’re telling me and not Y/n?!” Jason stood up, aghast. 

“Because Y/n is smarter than that,” Bruce said simply. 

Ignoring his father, Jason rounded on you. “Seriously, doll, what was your score?”

You glanced down at the number on your screen and Jason swallowed. “95,” you said after a tense moment.

The room went silent. Bruce and Alfred exchanged a glance and Bruce immediately took out his phone and started typing away. Cass looked over your shoulder and hummed. Tim let out a low whistle and Damian cackled. Dick closely watched his younger brother with a pleased smile. 

“Wait, actually?” Jason asked. 

“Yes, Todd,” you sighed. “Actually.” Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Bruce show his phone to Alfred. Alfred raised an eyebrow and you had an inkling of who Bruce had texted. 

“Damn, sweetheart,” Jason continued. “Did you throw the test on purpose?” 

“Just take the date, Jason.” You said, “I wouldn’t dwell on it. Though I am expecting you to pull out all the stops.” 

“You won’t be disappointed, sweetheart.” Jason pressed a kiss to your forehead and practically skipped to his room, his smile lighting up the room. Later that night, as he lay in bed, he silently wondered if he was technically cheating on his soulmate by promising you a date that he may get to go on. What would happen if he found his soulmate, but you still expected a date? He didn’t want to let you down. He didn’t know if he could ever let you down. If you asked him for anything, he would probably trip over his own feet to complete your request. 

Jason made a pact, then and there, that he would take you on a date no matter if he found his soulmate or not.

It was the least he could do.