#~`*records‚ reports‚ and other little reminders

[dxckinson]

who  :  agent faulkner, @faulknxr

where  :  agent dickinson's living quarters

when  :  march 13, 1994, 6:35 AM

The golden light from the spring sun gently spilled into Agent Dickinson’s quarters through a pair of partially closed curtains. In the still darkened expanse of the bedroom, a kaleidoscope of colors danced across the walls, the light shifting between the warm rays of natural light and the prismatic hues not normally seen by the naked eye. The ribbons of colors shimmered and twirled as if dancing, distorted through a crystal glass wind chime that hung across from the apartment’s central cooling vent. The gentle whooshing of the climate-controlled air and the soft tinkling of the translucent glass beads that swayed in the breeze were both drowned out by the incessant treble of a shrieking radio alarm clock that sat atop a cluttered bedside table.

In the queen-sized mattress next to the nightstand, Agent Dickinson let out a strained curse before he pressed his face deeper into the mattress; the pillow that had been his head rest the night before was folded in half to cover both ears in a vain attempt to muffle the sound. While turning off the alarm would be easier than pretending it didn’t exist, the pounding in his head made the very act of reaching out to shut it off seem utterly impossible.

But he knew he needed to get up; he was running late, and Faulkner was waiting.

Dickinson’s heart clenched behind its cage of flesh and bone, erratically thumping out of rhythm, haunted by some peculiar, misplaced pseudesthesia. The fuzzy remnants of a dream—a nightmare, really—clung to the edges of his subconscious. Stubborn and sticky like the seedpods of the burdock plants that grew in the walking trails he and—In-su—Faulkner frequented in the summertime; those barbed spurs that left a penetrating, stinging itch hours after the intrusion had been removed. The burning sensation of the nearly invisible puncture was the only evidence of a wound. A laughable phantom injury that still hurt regardless.

Chuckling cheerlessly, Dickinson squinted at the time displayed on the green digital screen of the alarm clock. 6:38. He was over thirty minutes late. His chest seized up in a bewildering sob that petered off into an equally mystifying series of sniffles. He couldn’t even remember what it had been that had upset him so much, the fragments of the dream vanishing like wisps of smoke, like fog, when he tried to bring them into focus; leaving behind only the heartache and drying tear tracks as proof that anything had terrorized his sleeping mind.

The only thing he could recall with any certainly were the sound of someone crying, bright white lights, and a cacophony of noises in the distance. But that in itself offered very little insight when it came to narrowing down the memory. All things considered.

“¡Ya! cállate,” Dickinson hissed, eyes closed, as he extended his arm to slam the ‘off’ button of the clock but only managed to bump his fingers into cool glass. He bit back another curse, opened his eyes, and lifted himself on his elbows to reach around the obstruction that had been left on his bedside table. Once the shrill wailing had been silenced, once and for all, Dickinson rolled onto his back and stared up at his bedroom ceiling.

The last vestiges of the nightmare had been blown away by the torrential winds of his waking mind, so it would be pointless for him to continue to dwell on it now. But there was something gnawing at the deepest alcoves in his psyche. An animallike dread made his skin break out into gooseflesh and the hair at the back of his neck stand on end. A ghostly chill, a creeping horror that had dug its claws into the core of his being. Dickinson wondered idly who had emerged to haunt his subconscious last night. Which one of the many ghosts that trailed behind him had come seeking their toll for the years he had stolen from them?

The thought sent another pang of melancholy through him. Dickinson pressed his hands to his face in response, trying to clear his mind. If this was the penitence he had to pay for letting Agent Fitzgerald goad him into another drinking contest, then maybe this would finally teach him to stop letting things get this far. Everyone knew Dickinson was a terrible drunk; a lightweight who’d get overly emotional—and then embarrassingly clingy. So if he had to bet, Dickinson would suppose the Fitz got a kick out of seeing him turn into a weepy mess, teary face pressed into the side of one of his usual victims (Faulkner, Whitman, or Hemingway) whose side he’d cling to for the rest of the night.

‘It was Faulkner last night,’ Dickinson thought sluggishly. It was usually Faulkner as of late. And since Dickinson had woken up in his own place instead of being deposited onto someone’s couch, it was the only logical conclusion; his long-term mission partner was the only one Dickinson trusted enough with a key to his apartment, after all. Whitman would probably try to pull a prank (or two) and Hemingway’s susceptibility to peer pressure made him a liability even if Whitman didn’t have a key.

Grumbling with no real heat behind the sound, Dickinson recalled the glass of water that had been left for him on the nightstand, another hint that pointed towards his partner. Sitting up he squinted at the sunlight pouring into the bedroom before he shifted his gaze to the glass and noticed that there was a square of paper placed over it, and two white circular tablets of medicine atop of that. Dickinson snorted as he carefully pinched the aspirin pills between his thumb, index, and middle finger so he could snatch up the handwritten letter between his final two. Popping the medication into his mouth, he brought the note to eye level and blindly pawed for the cup. Sipping on the water, he scanned the note, which read:

Good morning, Agent Dickinson: I hope you slept alright. Please take these pills with food and water. There is a bowl of caldo de pollo in the fridge. Two minutes in the Radarange should suffice. Our meeting time at Briefing Room A is 700 hours. I shall get you by 645 hours if I do not receive a page back by 630 hours. Cordially, Agent Faulkner. P.S. Please do not worry about my suit jacket from last night. I properly rinsed the discharge.㋡

Dickinson choked on his drink, dribbling water onto his chin and chest. Coughing and pounding at his sternum, he placed the glass back onto the bedside table and looked at the time.

6:43.

Faulkner was probably already unlocking the door.

[hoshifighting]

hi!! Idk if this makes sense but can you write svt reaction to y/n acting like nothing happened between them, maybe after a little drunk sex, and kinda avoiding them because they work together??

seventeen reaction to you pretending nothing had happened between you two

WARNINGS: smut, angst, omit (?)

seungcheol watches you walk past him in the office like nothing ever happened. like his hands weren’t gripping your hips last night, pulling you close, the sound of your name slipping from his lips in between gasps. he’s trying to focus on the damn report that’s due in an hour, but his mind’s stuck on you, the way you moaned into his ear, how your nails dug into his back. “shit,” he mutters under his breath, eyes narrowing as he watches you chat with a coworker like you’re not ignoring him. “what the hell’s your deal?” he finally snaps, cornering you by the copier. “we gonna pretend like i didn’t have you begging last night? that mean nothing to you?”

jeonghan steres at you dumbfounded. you’re sitting across from him in the campus library, eyes glued to your textbook like you didn’t spend the night before with your legs wrapped around his waist, crying out his name. he taps his pen against the table, each click louder than the last, trying to get your attention, but you’re not even glancing up. “so we’re doing this now?” he says, voice low, leaning in closer. “pretending like you didn’t cum around my cock last night?” you shift uncomfortably, but still, nothing. jeonghan smirks, leaning back. “fine. but don’t think i’m gonna forget about this.”

joshua thinks got some nerve, walking into the coffee shop where he works and ignore him. you order your drink, all polite smiles, but joshua’s chest tightens when you don’t even give him a second look. “are we just gonna ignore each other?” he mumbles under his breath as he writes your name on the cup. he hands you the drink, fingers brushing against yours, and he can’t help but whisper, “you didn’t seem so shy last night Y/N.” but you just walk away, leaving him to fume behind the counter. “goddamn it.”

jun is in the practice room with you, you’re stretching, completely focused on your routine. jun watches you from the mirror, his mind replaying the way you looked under him, breathless and wanting. but now? you act like he’s just another guy in the room. “didn’t think you’d be so cold,” he murmurs, half-joking, but his heart isn’t in it. you look up, a smirk playing on your lips, “didn’t think you’d be so soft.” he laughs, but it’s hollow, wondering why you’re so good at pretending.

hoshi and you are at the gym, and you are completely in your zone, not even glancing his way. hoshi feels the sweat on his back, but it’s nothing compared to the way his heart races when he sees you. last night, he had you moaning his name, and now you’re acting like nothing happened. “so, that’s it?” he asks, walking up to you, trying to catch your eye. “that’s what?” you respond, lifting weights like it’s the most normal thing in the world. “last night.” you just chuckle, “we’re adults, soonyoung. it was fun, now move on.” but how the fuck is he supposed to do that?

wonwoo always been quiet, yall know, but right nooow he’s fuming inside. you sit across from him in the cafeteria, chatting with your friends like nothinghad happened. wonwoo watches, eyes dark, his mind replaying every second of last night. when you stand to leave, he grabs your wrist, pulling you close. “you’re just gonna pretend like i didn’t fuck you last night?” he whispers, voice cold. you pull away, leaving him there with a bitter taste in his mouth. “this isn’t over.”

woozi is trying to focus on his music, but every note reminds him of your moans from the night before. you’d tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer as you whispered his name in the dark. and now that you’re sitting in the recording studio, acting like you didn’t cum undone beneath him, woozi can’t take it anymore. he slams his laptop shut, making you jump. “are you fucking serious right now?” he grump, eyes boring into yours. “last night meant nothing to you? just gonna pretend like you didn’t cry my name?” you look away, biting your lip, but he’s not letting this go. “you can ignore me all you want, but i’ll make you scream my name again, just wait.”

seokmin is normally always smiling, but right now, he’s fucking pissed. you walk past him in the hallway, not even bothering to give him a smile. dk catches up to you, grabbing your arm, spinning you around. “so that’s how it is, huh? just gonna act like you didn’t want me so bad?” his usual bright eyes are dark, filled with something you’ve never, i repeat, NEVER seen before. you try to pull away, but he doesn’t let you. “nah, you’re not getting off that easy. we’re not done here. not even close.”

mingyu can’t believe his eyes when he sees you in the same lecture hall, sitting a few seats away, completely ignoring him. last night was nothing short of intense—your hands clutching his hair, his name spilling from your lips like a prayer, as you rolled your hips to ride his tongue. now, you act like he’s invisible. he leans back in his seat, eyes glued to you, frustration bubbling inside him. “what's wrong with you?!” he mutters, loud enough for you to hear. you don’t react, but he catches the way your hand trembles slightly. “i’ll remind you later, then,” he whispers under his breath, smirking.

minghao is with you; at the dance studio, you’re focused on your routine, completely ignoring him. minghap feels a tightness in his chest, remembering the way you looked at him last night, like he was the only thing that mattered. “can I ask you why you're ignoring me?” he asks, voice soft, trying to keep the hurt out. you pause, looking at him with those cool eyes, “why not? nothing’s changed.” but everything’s changed for him, and he doesn’t know how to deal with it.

seungkwan watches you in the cafeteria, you’re sitting with your friends, laughing and chatting like last night was a lie. seungkwan feels a lump in his throat, wondering how you can be so calm, so unaffected. “you’re really just gonna ignore me?” he asks, sliding into the seat next to you, his voice a little too loud. you glance at him, a small smile on your lips, “i’m not ignoring you, kwan.” “feels like you are,” he mutters, but you just shrug, going back to your conversation, leaving him feeling more alone than ever.

vernon works with you at the studio, you’re working on a project, completely in your zone. vernon watches you, his heart heavy with the memory of last night. “we gonna talk about it?” he asks, trying to keep his voice steady. you glance at him, eyebrows raised, “talk about what?” ��about last night.” you just smile, “what about it?” “it mattered.” “to you, maybe.” and the way you say it, so casually, makes him feel like he’s losing something he never really had.

chan stares at you shameleslly at the office, you’re all business, talking about relatories and netwroking. chan's fingers twitch, wanting to reach out, to pull you close and remind you of the way you screamed his name. “you’re really good at this, you know,” he says, voice tight, “pretending.” you pause, looking up at him with those unreadable eyes, “it’s not pretending, chan. it’s just life.” but how can it be just life when it feels like everything’s upside down?

[sanaexus]

social's as shidou's girlfriend

-liked by itoshi_sae, isaichii and 145.7k others

yourusername: i feel bad for rin this mf don't even go easy on his on girl

tagged: shiidoryu

shiidoryu: they say all is fair in war and love ↳itoshi_sae: it's love and war fucking idiot ↳shiidoryu: you love me 🥺👉👈 ↳yourusername: mate IN MY FUCKING COMMENTS? ↳shiidoryu: you're saving as if i don't eat that pussy every night ↳yourusername: blocked. reported. I FUCKING HATE YOU??? ↳chigi.who: woah guys maybe like don't do that here??

nikkoki: why the last image. ↳yourusername: why not 🙁 ↳megubachi: for gits and shiggles 🥰 ↳rin.itoshi: that's not the fucking quote?? ↳megubachi: and you're not the best striker so stafu ↳rin.itoshi: TAJTS SO UNNNESCARY?? ↳isaichii: look at rin finally genz-ing w the spelling errors and capital letters ↳hiyori: feels like yesterday he was js a little baby ↳megubachi: they grow up too fast ↳rin.itoshi: you guys are my 13th reason.

shiidoryu: si 💔you💔won't💔mention💔the💔part💔where💔i💔 bought💔you💔icecream💔and 💔then💔talked💔sjit💔ab 💔your💔ex💔 ↳yourusername: and you're not gonna mention the part where we had the bet who could swing the fastest and i won bc you fell on your butt and felt like you were ab to throw up so you HAD to get me icecream? ↳shiidoryu: #donttakltomeiamdespressed #betryaedbymyowngf #emo ↳karasu_tabito: HE FELL ON HIS ASS? DO YOU HAVE THE RECORDING I'LL PAY FOR IT ↳yourusername: bet how much we talking? ↳karasu_tabito: enough to buy another shidou prolly ↳yourusername: check your dms ↳eita.otoya: are we buying people from the black market ↳kenyu.yukimiya: no we are not the fuck?

-liked by kuniisuke, megubachi and 159.4k others

shiidoryu: i actually do love my girl and i don't always act gay

tagged: yourusername

julian.loki: "i actually do love my girl" proceeds to try to throw her into a garbage can ↳mikka.kaiser: fucking dustbin you mean? ↳hiyori: OH MY GOD U REMIND ME AB LINDASY FROM MY 4TH GRADE CLASS WHO USED TO NITPICK ON EVERYONE FOR THERE ENGLISH ↳mikka.kaiser: their* ↳isaichii: stfu it's called a trashcan ↳kuniisuke: i think we're straying off topic BC THAT'S A WHOLE AHH HUMAN THAT'S GOING TO BE PUT ON A FUCKING DUSTBIN ↳mikka.kaiser: in* ↳oliver.aikyu: i swear to fucking god i will ↳alexis.ness: nuh uh ↳yourusername: MAN KUNIGAMI AND OLIVER THE ONLY REAL ONES FR ↳oliver.aiku: we gotchu girl ↳kuniisuke: second that except in a less gay manner ↳julian.loki: SHE'S BEING PUT IN TRASH. ↳rin.itoshi: she's fine. shidou has that trash tan all the time ↳megubachi: i think she's okay considering how ego roams around with that garbage ahh haircut ↳isaichii: that trash can't be worse than igaguri's football skills, she's fine ↳mikka.kaiser: YOU SAID FOOTBALL THANK FUCKING YOU ↳shiidoryu: you're fucking him?

user1: ignoring the second picture the one is actually so cute like 🌷🧚‍♀️💅🎀💕✨‼💯 ↳yourusername: lyt cutie ↳shiidoryu: YOU NEVER EVEN CALL ME CUTE? ↳yourusername: go stare at sae's ass or something ↳itoshi_sae: no don't do that don't stare at my ass ↳yourusername: jokes aside he was actually nice to me in that picture (he didn't try throwing me off) ↳user2: something in that sentence makes me think she got thrown off a swing far too many times ↳shiidoryu: in my defense she keeps putting tomatoes in my sandwhich ↳yourusername: you look like one don't blame me

karasu_tabito: did he fall on his butt this time? ↳yourusername: he was careful bc i was sitting on his lap ↳eita.otoya: shidou in his softie green flag era? ↳yourusername: what if he's actually doing this to gain my trust and like gives me off to some kidnapper ↳nikkoki: bffr rn he would probably BE the kidnapper ↳shiidoryu: yeah what if I AM the kidnapper

-liked by chigi.who, hiyori and 198.5k others

yourusername: he isn't always an asshole <3

tagged: shiidoryu

chigi.who: the last picture?? ↳yourusername: my life goals right there ↳yourusername: shidou that better be us when we grow up ↳shiidoryu: that already IS us ↳yourusername: are you called me a 73.8 year old grandma? ↳shiidoryu: IN MY DEFENSE IM CALLING MY SELF A GRANDPA TOO

aryu.jubei: your hair is very ✨glam✨drop the hair care routine (did he try to yank your hair?) ↳yourusername: check dms ↳yourusername: SURPRISNGLY NO?? HE WAS ACTUALLY REALLY NICE TODAY?? ↳shiidoryu: i'm always nice baby ↳yourusername: yeah to your side chicks ↳shiidoryu: YOU are the side chick, sae is ml ↳yourusername: oh fuck you what does that man have other than thick thighs, a thick ass and an ass attitude ↳itoshi_sae: what do i not have ↳yourusername: proper relationship with your family ↳itoshi_sae: fuck off

shiidoryu: you look pretty ↳yourusername: ily im gonna go cry ↳shiidoryu: DON'T CRY WHY ARE YOU CRYING NOW I COMPLIMENTED YOU ↳yourusername: THAT'S THE THING YOI COMPLIMENTED ME ↳shiidoryu: wajt

user3: she looks so pretty and happy in the second pic. shidou you better watch out, i'm in your walls ↳shiidoryu: my walls are nasty, what if my dead hamsters are there ↳yourusername: MY TEIGO. I BOUGHT IT TO YOUR HOUSE AND IT JS DESPAWNED ↳shiidoryu: I'M SORRY

user4: when a zesty ass loving thigh loving (man loving) tomato looking demon who kicks balls around and pick fight w emo boys can pull ↳yourusername: my dms are open for u ↳shiidoryu: no they're not ↳oliver.aiku: how much we betting that he's gonna go make 15 accounts to spam y/n dms ↳isaichii: betting a whole ahh bachira ↳megubachi: WHY ARE U BETTING ME OFF??? ↳chigi.who: betting my other acl ↳kuniisuke: HELP WHAT?? ↳kenyu.yukimiya: betting my already shit vision ↳nagi.seishiro: my gaming console ↳reo.miikage: my entire networth ↳itoshi_sae: my abibas sponsorship ↳user5: ABIBAS 🔥🔥💯💯🔛🔝🗣🗣 ↳rin.itoshi: betting off my brother ↳itoshi_sae: what

welllll that took a lot longer than it should have buttt here you go shidou simps i had fun writing this ig sorta maybe kinda idk

[deunmiu-dessie]

ⅷ▬ ⁽ 𝒶𝓁𝒾𝑒𝓃 ⁾

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 ♡︎ : ₈˖₅ₖ ˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ♡︎ : unedited, plot, alien/human, fluff, nim'xen is a simp, he falls first and then falls harder. ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎

૮ ˙Ⱉ˙ ა ʳᵃʷʳ ⁿᵒᵗᵉˢ : no smut, but! a cute little unfinished one-shot of mine.

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 ♡︎: on the way home from the store, the unthinkable happens.

꒰male!alien ₊⊹ afab!reader꒱

“Breaking News: Massive Asteroid Comes Dangerously Close to Earth, Scientists Unaware Until Hours Later.

In a stunning turn of events, a colossal asteroid, previously known as ZTFoDxQ but now identified as Asteroid QG, narrowly missed colliding with Earth. The planet-sized asteroid made its closest-known approach to our planet on Sunday at 12:08 a.m. EDT, coming within a mere 1,830 miles. This remarkable event marks the closest asteroid flyby ever recorded, where the celestial object managed to survive the encounter unscathed, as confirmed by NASA.

However, the surprises didn't end there. Just this afternoon at 1:00 p.m., reports have emerged that a fragment of the asteroid has broken off and penetrated Earth's atmosphere. The exact location of impact is currently being evacuated as a precautionary measure. 

 Scientists are scrambling to analyze the data and understand how such a massive asteroid managed to come so close to Earth without being detected until hours later. The lack of awareness has raised concerns about the effectiveness of current asteroid detection systems and the potential risks posed by near-Earth objects.

NASA and other space agencies around the world are now working to improve their monitoring and detection capabilities to prevent similar surprises in the future. The incident has also sparked discussions about the need for increased funding and resources for asteroid detection and deflection efforts.

As the world watches in awe and relief at the near miss, the incident serves as a stark reminder of the potential dangers lurking in space and the importance of continued vigilance in monitoring the skies for potential threats. Stay tuned for further updates on this developing story.” 

3 months later

“Can you do me a favor, sweetheart?”

Interrupting your peeling, you raised your eyes from the bowl of potatoes, freezing the peeler in your hand. You cast a frustrated glance at her, your annoyance thinly veiled behind a strained smile. You were already handling most of the cooking for the evening, so what more could she want from you?

Interpreting your insincere smile as a signal of agreement, she resumed her task of tending to the bubbling broth on the stove, deftly chopping the carrots and watching them plunge into the savory liquid with a satisfying plop. "Your sister's going on a trip tomorrow and I totally spaced on getting her food. She likes turkey right? I'll just throw together a sandwich for her." 

A soft snicker escaped you as the peeler slipped from your hand and plunged into the water-filled bowl. You shifted your attention towards her, trying to decipher if she was genuinely serious or not. Yet, as you locked eyes with her, she responded with an arched eyebrow and an inquisitive grin.

"Jess has a poultry allergy, Mom." 

The woman paused briefly, inhaling deeply to gather her thoughts. As she glanced up at you, she shifted her hip to the side. Her apologetic expression seemed somewhat contrived. "Of course, I should have remembered. I'm sorry, honey." 

It was understandable that the woman might eventually forget. She wasn't the one who hurriedly took Jess to the hospital when she had her first experience with it, she wasn't the one who remained by the girl's side day and night, eagerly waiting for her to regain consciousness. But you were. You were Jess's first in everything. You had always been there for her, so it's only natural that the bond between the two of you grew strong. You knew all about her allergies, her preferences, her school crushes— you felt like more of a mother to her than her biological one.

 "Whatever. I'll pack her lunch." 

You swivel the chair and slide off of it. "The blue card, right?" As she nods her head absentmindedly, almost as if she's in a daze, you leave the kitchen with a frown etched on your face.

Snatching your keys from the hook, you hastily slide into your gym shoes, relieved that you hadn't bothered changing your clothes. You stand at the bottom of the stairs and shift your weight. "Jess! I'm going to the store, do you want anything?!" You delve into your mom's purse, sifting through the chaotic contents until you locate her wallet and retrieve the blue card food stamp card.

   After a brief silence, her bedroom door swings open and she rushes towards the railing, a bright smile on her face. " Ice cream? Shark week came and I've been really craving strawberry ice cream."  You give a nod and quickly retrieve your jacket from the closet. "Do you need any money for the trip tomorrow? I can take some out on my way back." 

The young girl shakes her head, her eyes filled with adoration. You raise an eyebrow but still nod in understanding. Retrieving your phone from your pocket, you give it a gentle shake. "Text me if you need anything, but be quick about it." Without waiting for her response, you swiftly unlock the door and make your way onto the porch.

The sky is adorned with a delicate blend of pink and deep purple, gradually blending into the mysterious darkness of the night. A gentle breeze carries a subtle chill, but you embrace it without a word, wrapping your jacket tightly around your being. Swiftly, you navigate towards your vehicle, unlocking the door and sinking into the plush leather seat. A faint hint of smoke dances in the air, causing your nose to crinkle in response. Without hesitation, you lower the window, letting it air out.

As the smell dissipates you roll up the window and rub your hands together from the cold.

 With a flick of a switch, the heat begins to flow, gradually filling the space and caressing your cheeks with a gentle warmth. The jacket you wear, once a shield against the chill, now threatens to make you feel almost too warm. With a contented smile, you leave the driveway behind and glide swiftly down the street, embraced by the cozy ambiance within.

 As you embark on the drive, the radio remains silent, allowing your thoughts to drift away. Your thumb dances lightly on the steering wheel, lost in a world of its own. Deep down, you had already made up your mind to have Jess by your side once you left. There was no way your parents could take care of her, especially with what you've heard today. 

 Your job was well-paying and you had saved up to rent and secure a two-bedroom apartment at an astonishingly reasonable cost, despite its pristine condition. Nestled within a delightful community, the apartment stood conveniently close to Jess' school. Naturally, obtaining their consent would be imperative, yet even if they were to resist, you would unhesitatingly embark on a legal journey to assert your rights. Yet even if they were to resist, you would unhesitatingly them to court. 

  You wanted a better life for Jess, you wanted the rest of her remaining years of growth to unfold effortlessly. Your affection for her was so profound that witnessing her spiral, just as you had, while residing with your parents was simply inconceivable.

Startled by a gentle tap on your window, you were momentarily transported from the reverie you had been lost in while sitting in the Kroger's parking lot. Your mind had been wandering, lost in a sea of thoughts. With your heart pounding in your chest, you slowly shifted your gaze towards the source of the sound and cautiously opened the window, allowing a sliver of the outside world to seep in.

 She was an elderly lady, much older than you, with a look of homelessness about her. Her shirt was stained and torn, her jeans in tatters, and her face covered in grime. You hesitated for a moment before offering her a warm smile and rolling down your window just a tad further.

  "Hi, do you need something?"

As her murmurs dance in disarray, fragments of words manage to intertwine, and in a fleeting moment, a shiver cascades down your spine. " You're. . . Die. . . Tonight."  

Her expression is vacant, her gaze distant, and the fidgety way she picks at her cuticles hints at her unease. Even though you feel a sense of discomfort, a strong urge to leave the parking lot doesn't overcome you. Instead, you reach into the glove compartment, retrieve a crumpled $20 bill, and gently pass it through the window.

 You recoil in shock as she snatches it out of your hand, making sure to quickly wobble off. With your heart racing, you roll up the window and sink into the headrest, trying to soothe your jangled nerves. What the hell was that about? The only conclusion you can draw is that she must be a deranged old woman.

After finally catching your breath, you unlock your car door and slide out, card in hand. Gently inserting the blue plastic into the slot at the back of your phone case, you carefully place it in your pocket. The night had fallen, and you were eager to return to the comfort of your home.

You took a cart from the parking lot racks and pushed it inside, feeling the chill of the air as you entered the store. "Hmm, what should I pick up for Jess?"

—

   "Jess! Mom! I'm home!" You set the bags onto the dining room table and wait there with a cocked hip. Within moments, Jess emerges from her room and descends the stairs in a flurry. A gentle smile adorns your face as you present the tub of delectable ice cream, relishing in the delightful sound of her joyful squeal.

  "Ah! Thank you, thank you, thank you!" With a grateful smile, she plants a sweet kiss on your cheek and pulls you into a warm embrace. She then heads to the kitchen, excitedly searching through the drawer for a spoon. Your mother, already present in the kitchen, peeks out from behind the corner.

You notice her face contorting into a slight frown paired with a gentle smile. You recognize that look instantly, so you grab the car keys and smoothly slide the card off the table. Her eyes soften with regret as she passes you a tiny list. "It's just a few things, the ingredients for Jakiya's birthday cake that slipped my mind. Do you mind picking them up?"

   You raised an eyebrow, lips pursed. "I don't necessarily have a choice, mom." Your mom huffed and rolled her eyes. "It's a simple yes or no question, don't be difficult." Despite your strained relationship with your mom, you made an effort to avoid arguments when Jess was present.

Speaking of which, Jess had stopped rummaging in the drawer, body strung tight like a bow. Your gaze softened as you released a weary, deep sigh. You were completely fed up with your parents' nonsense, but Jess shouldn't have to witness the constant fighting between the three of you.

With a gentle nibble on the tender flesh of your cheek, you gracefully acknowledged your mother's request, enveloping yourself in the comforting embrace of your jacket. "Sure mom, what do you need?"

A smile of gratitude adorned her face as she pushed a small list towards you. You grinned wryly as you snatched it, then swiftly headed towards the door. The sun had long set, plunging the world into darkness. The street lights flickered weakly, barely illuminating the empty streets.

 Jess gazes at you as you prepare to depart, smiling guiltily.  With a playful roll of your eyes, you silently express your affection, mouthing the words 'I love you' and blowing a tender kiss in her direction. Her nose scrunches up adorably, but her face lights up with a radiant smile as she reciprocates the gesture. As you steal a glance to the side, you catch sight of your mother observing the exchange, her eyes filled with a bittersweet longing.

 "Text me if there's something else, I'm not going back out later." The words were directed towards Jess, but she dismissed them with a wave of her hand and reached for a large spoon from the drawer. Stepping outside, you were greeted by the refreshing embrace of the cool, crisp air, causing you to release a frustrated sigh. The sound of your keys jingled as you retrieved them from your pocket, pressing a button to unlock the car doors. With a swift motion, you hopped into the front seat and firmly closed the door behind you.

 You wait impatiently as the engine sputters before shutting off. Resting your head on the steering wheel, you attempt a few more times before surrendering. Frustrated, you hit the dashboard and recline in your seat. If you were to go inside and inform your mom that the car wouldn't start, she'd make you walk anyway.

With a sigh escaping your lips, you swing open the door and slide from the seat locking the doors behind you. Embarking on your journey towards Kroger, you find yourself humming a gentle melody, adding a touch of serenity to your brisk pace towards the supermarket. The night envelops you in a tranquil embrace, yet the houses you pass by are alive with vibrant activity. As you stroll along, your gaze wanders towards the windows, offering glimpses into the lives unfolding within.

    Some families are cooking while others are at the table already eating. Happiness danced in the air, casting its enchanting spell upon every corner. Yet, as you observed this idyllic scene, a twinge of envy tugged at your heartstrings. Growing up, you yearned for such a blissful atmosphere that seemed to elude you. At the tender age of nine, your parents bestowed upon you the title of maturity, deeming you wise beyond your years. And while, yes, you possessed a certain level of wisdom, it did not equate to being capable enough to care for your baby sister.

 It fell upon you to fetch Jess from daycare and ensure a safe journey back home for the two of you. It was your responsibility to prepare meals for both of you after school. The weight of raising your four-year-old sister and yourself rested solely on your shoulders, as there was no one else to do it for you. Over time, the bond between both of you and your parents had weakened. They were seldom present, and when they were, disagreements ensued. You made an effort to keep the arguments hushed whenever Jess was around. She often blamed herself for the strained relationship between you, your mom, and your dad.

As you stroll along the dimly lit street, a sudden hush falls upon your heart as the echo of footsteps reaches your ears. Time seems to stand still, and for a fleeting moment, your heart skips a beat. Yet, amidst the uncertainty, you cling to a glimmer of hope, imagining that those footsteps might belong to a passerby, innocently treading the same path as you.

They draw nearer, their footsteps quickening. You swallow your trepidation, nearly stumbling as a man's voice pierces the air. "Excuse me!" His voice resonates with a deep, thunderous timbre, sending shivers down your spine. You flinch, but press on, hastening towards the bustling street where the glow of passing cars illuminates the pavement and towering structures. Towards the sanctuary of safety.

 "Hey! I'm talking to you." 

  You're almost there. You start to jog a little but they've closed in a bit too much. Their presence looms closer, their energy palpable. Just as panic threatens to consume you, you part your lips to release a piercing scream, only to find that silence has enveloped the air.

A gentle breeze rustles the leaves of a bush, followed by a brief, hushed cry that fades into silence. The chirping of crickets has ceased, leaving a stillness that envelops the world. With uncertainty, you glance behind you and collapse to the ground as the two men have vanished. Gazing up at the night sky, the reflection in your eyes, you offer silent gratitude to whoever intervened and saved you in that fleeting moment.

   You stand up and you resume your journey, eventually arriving at the bustling street. Though your legs falter when you notice the woman from earlier sitting on a bus stop bench. The impact of the $20 becomes evident as she savors a warm, nourishing meal, and her once weary eyes seem to be less bloodshot. 

 A part of you hesitates to pass by her, yet you dismiss that fleeting sense of unease and march towards her. It appears that she is also cautious of your presence, as her head swiftly turns towards you—almost as if she is just as cognizant of you as you are of her. Her gaze drifts beyond your shoulder and her eyes widen, a sheer terror reflecting in them. She abandons her meal, rises with some effort, clutches onto her bag, and hastens away.

Your brows knit together and you cast a glance over your shoulder, a whirlwind of bewilderment dancing in your gaze. There is no one lingering in the shadows and the surroundings appear undisturbed. Returning your attention to her path, you discover that she has vanished into thin air. A sense of unease settles within you as you resume your journey towards the store, diligently keeping a watchful eye on the space behind you.

—

The parking lot is nearly empty when you leave the store. Alongside you, a stream of tired employees bid farewell to their workday, their footsteps echoing in harmony with your own. Amid this scene, a message from Jess illuminates your phone, informing you that dinner has already been prepared. However, a bittersweet note lingers as their parents, driven by impatience, have chosen to indulge in the meal without your presence.

      The girl had put you some food up and would eat with you when you got home. You tell her that it's fine and for her to go to sleep. She responds back with the middle finger emoji. You let out a soft laugh and gently tuck your phone away, resuming your journey back home. In moments like these, you can't help but appreciate the invaluable presence of your sister. She is the unwavering support that keeps you grounded, the guiding light that helps you navigate through life's challenges. It is because of her that you find the strength to persevere, even in the face of your parents' constant demands.

Raising Jess, despite its challenges, has molded you into the person you are now. A person who is dependable, always on time, patient, and strong-willed. You possess the remarkable ability to adapt swiftly and thrive in any endeavor you undertake. If your parents hadn't entrusted you with the responsibility of raising your sister, none of these remarkable qualities would have blossomed within you. Although it may be bittersweet, raising Jess has truly been a hidden blessing, concealed in the depths of life's mysteries.

As you hurriedly make your way home, you take a shortcut and find yourself in the dimly lit parking lot of a mysterious barber shop. Instantly, a wave of regret washes over you as you stumble upon a group of men engaged in some clandestine activity. Panic sets in, and you quickly decide to retreat. However, fate has other plans for you. In your haste, you accidentally collide with a solid chest, causing you to freeze in your tracks. 

When you gather the courage to look up, you are met with a sight that leaves you breathless. Standing before you is a towering figure, adorned with intricate tattoos that seem to tell stories of their own. His pierced septum and eyebrow only add to his intimidating presence, and his annoyed expression sends shivers down your spine. As his eyebrows furrow, you can't help but do a double take at his striking attractiveness.

 "Watch where you're going, woman." You nod in agreement and attempt to move aside, but a member of the group lets out a disrespectful whistle. Your body tenses as you try to keep walking, only to have your wrist grabbed by another individual. "Where do you think you're going? You're such a pretty little thing."  

"I just want to get home. Please, let me go." Your attempt at a stern tone falters as your voice quivers and a hiccup escapes. Laughter fills the air, causing you to shrink back as if confronting a pack of wolves. Six of them. 

   The mysterious figure you collided with earlier firmly grasps the man who is restraining your wrist. " I don't have all fucking night Tyler. Either give me my shit, or I'm going to blow your brains across this goddamn lot." 

The atmosphere suddenly becomes hushed, as if time itself holds its breath. A distant memory resurfaces, a conversation shared with your sister, where you both playfully pondered about how you would handle such a situation. Laughter filled the air as you jokingly mentioned pepper spray and karate moves. But now, in this very moment, fear grips your heart, rendering you utterly petrified.

    Tyler releases his grip on you, causing a small, trembling breath to escape your lips. "Jesus, Dom. I was just joking," he says nervously, glancing at his friends for support. A few chuckle while others remain silent.

 Dom gazes at you, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Go. Before I change my mind." Despite the stern tone, there is a softness in his eyes that reassures you. You thank him profusely and speed walk away from the group. 

The moment you thought you were making headway, the piercing screams and the thunderous gunshots shatter the night's calmness. Time seems to stand still as the world around you falls into an eerie silence once again. With a lump in your throat, you quicken your pace, feeling the weight of tears welling up in your eyes.

This couldn't possibly be the end for you. It simply couldn't. You still had a duty to care for your sister, to provide her with a better life than you ever had. You longed to shield her from your parents, but how could you do that if you were no longer alive?

   As you sprint away, tightly holding onto the groceries, a gasp escapes your lips before a hand covers your mouth, guiding you into a hidden bush. The struggle feels like the most intense challenge you've ever faced. Through a tiny gap, you catch a glimpse of your groceries left behind on the pavement.

  " Shh, little female." 

As if by magic, a wave of calm washes over you the moment you recognize the familiar presence of 'Dom'. Tears cascade down your cheeks, and you gently rest your hands upon his, feeling the rhythmic beats of your heart resonating in your ears. As you glance through the foliage, a gasp escapes your lips upon seeing 'Tyler' once again. Yet, he appears far from human this time. His complexion is a mesmerizing shade of deep purple, and his face is adorned with four fiery red eyes and a menacing set of frothing, razor-sharp teeth.

His mouth oozes with saliva, which cascades onto the solid ground and creates a sizzling noise. It was acidic. Dom embraces you tightly, his free hand ascending. In his grasp, a peculiar gun emerges, unlike anything you have ever laid eyes upon. With precision, he positions the barrel's tip against the peephole, his finger gently caressing the trigger. As the gun powers up, a radiant orange glow illuminates its entire frame, casting an ethereal aura. The release is nearly soundless, as a beam pierces through 'Tyler's forehead. 

He moves away from you, emerging from the bushes, taking your stunned body in his arms and lifting you up gently. Running his fingers through his hair, the white locks falling smoothly into place.

As your gaze meets his, your mortal eyes widen in awe. He appears changed, yet undeniably captivating in a strange, otherworldly manner. His complexion is a deep shade of grey, adorned with intricate tattoos in an unfamiliar script. Some markings are white, while others emit a haunting red glow. His hair, too, is a ghostly white, almost pulsating with life. His eyes, a cloudy white, give the impression of blindness, yet two more eyes rest just below the main set. The piercings on his nose and eyebrow remain, adding to his enigmatic allure.

 You take a step back, but he gives you a piercing look that freezes you in place "What are you?" Without a word, he hesitates for a moment before taking your hand and leading you away. "Where are we going?" Your voice trembles with fear. Dom halts and releases your hand. He gestures towards the lifeless body.  "Do you see that? Hundreds of those things have already touched Terra, 3 earth months ago." 

  You shiver and wrap your arms around yourself, trying to keep warm. The deep timber of his voice brings you back to reality. "They proliferate with astonishing speed, ceaselessly multiplying. Your planet is infested, we're only here to see if it was preventable. We were too late." 

As he looks down upon you, his eyes soften, embracing the sight of your trembling figure.  "Our ultimate aim is to gather a chosen few among humanity and escort you to a hospitable planet, so that you can once again repopulate."

You shake your head slowly, taking a step back, "I cannot abandon my sister here." Dom releases a fierce growl, pointing his gun towards you and firing. The beam narrowly misses you, striking another monster in the head.

"Make it quick."

In a flurry of movement, you dart into the house, the groceries slipping from your grasp and finding their place on the table in a haphazard manner. Dom follows silently, his presence masked by a cloaking device that renders him invisible to the naked eye. 

Your heart races within your chest, a wild stallion galloping against the confines of its cage, as you ascend the stairs with reckless abandon, the sound of your footsteps reverberating loudly against the wooden steps. Bursting into Jess' room, a wave of relief washes over you, a grateful prayer whispered under your breath. Taking a seat on her bed, your smile quivers with a mixture of emotions.

Her expression is one of bewilderment and a touch of fear. Tenderly, you sweep a strand of hair away from her face. "Do me a favor, my sweet girl. Pack some clothes, but pack light. I'll explain on the way but do it quickly." Jess has always trusted your decisions without hesitation, and she won't begin to question them now. She swiftly jumps out of bed and retrieves a bookbag from her wardrobe, the very same one you both use during your camping adventures.

"We don't have much time, little female." His tone isn't rushing in the slightest but you quickly head to your room and grab your book bag. You gather only the essentials - tough denim, comfortable shirts, reliable footwear, empty notebooks, and writing tools.

Jess rushed into the room, packing faster than anticipated, much to your relief. You take her hand and guide her out, but suddenly a loud crash interrupts. Both of you scream and huddle in the corner. Dom reveals himself and fires a shot, striking the massive creature in the shoulder. Its deafening roar rattles the house and you hear your parents' heavy footsteps approaching. Just as the monster lunges towards you, Dom takes aim and shoots it in the head. Neon blood splatters the wall, causing it to slowly dissolve.

With wide, frightened eyes, Jess looks up at you as you cling to her protectively. Your parents step into the room, dressed in their robes, shocked expressions on their faces as they take in the scene in front of them. Dom pays no attention to them, instead turning his gaze towards you and giving you a once-over.

" Are you ready?" 

 With a subtle nod, you accept his outstretched hand, intertwining your fingers with his while ensuring your younger sister is safe by your side. The first to break the silence is your father, his voice laced with bewilderment. "What the hell is happening?!" His eyes fixate on you, as if you hold the key to unraveling this enigma. Disregarding his inquiry, Dom strides past, leading the three of you down the staircase. Your parents trail behind, bombarding you with a flurry of questions. Despite their persistent curiosity, you make a conscious effort to block out their voices, but your mother intervenes by snatching Jess away from your side.

With a sudden movement, the girl breaks free and falls into your waiting arms. Dom brandishes his weapon, his expression icy and resolute. Your mother retreats, seeking solace in the arms of your father.

 Dom takes the lead, while the two of you follow closely. Observing Jess, he sees her slight build and anticipates she may have difficulty keeping pace. However, he remains utterly unfazed, not a hint of complaint escaping his lips. In a surprising display of strength, he effortlessly lifts her, prompting her to let out a startled yelp, and places her book bag on his shoulder.

" We need to move fast. Keep up."

 As you secure your book bag and inhale deeply, a rush of adrenaline courses through you. Dom sprints ahead, weapon in hand. The sound of breaking glass startles you, disrupting the tranquility of the surroundings you had just passed. The anguished cries of parents and children tug at your heartstrings, but your focus remains on Jess.

—

 The length of time you've been running is a blur, your legs now numb from the effort. Nevertheless, you persist, matching his pace as best as you can. Jess has succumbed to sleep, worn out from the night's adventures. You grin wearily at her and give yourself a firm slap on the cheeks, determined to stay awake.

 Dom is pleasantly surprised by how far you've been able to sprint, appreciating your resilience and commitment to your kin. As the three of you reach a vast clearing, he gradually slows down and halts. You catch up to him, panting heavily, with sweat glistening on your skin. You look at him, curious as to why he's stopped. Dom raises his arm and utters something in his native tongue. The gauntlet beeps and responds to him in kind.

The once vacant clearing now teems with life as your gaze is captivated by the majestic arrival of a ship. Its sheer grandeur overwhelms you, compelling you to take a step back. Towering above, the ship's entrance demands you to tilt your head back. 

As Dom guides you onward, the hatch swings open, inviting you to step onto its surface. A warm welcome awaits you from a gathering of his companions, each adorned in vibrant hues, yet all sharing the distinctive feature of milky white eyes. Drawing nearer to Dom, you find solace in the proximity of your sister. They engage in conversation briefly, before the hatch seals shut and Dom secures his firearm in its holster. " You will be safe here. The ship will take off tomorrow night when my people come with more of your kind."

  He leads the two of you to a room, one big bed placed in the middle of it accompanied by a smattering of curious contraptions. The walls exude an ethereal shade of slate grey metal, while a petite window graces the space just above a cozy sitting area. Tenderly, Dom settles Jess upon the bed and places the bag on a nearby table. He looks towards you and motions forward. "Rest."

As he moves towards the room's exit, you seize his hand. Your eyes betray a lack of trust, not in him, but in the very ship and its occupants. Dom stares at you, his emotions veiled, and you struggle to hold back tears. " Will you come back? Are you leaving us?" 

 In Dom's world, the idea of a female requiring reassurance and assistance was unfamiliar territory. The females on his planet, known as sîmalę, were formidable warriors, often occupying positions of power surpassing those of the males. Dom found himself fortunate to have gotten his position. [ Female¹]

He reminds himself that you are a human hailing from the terra planet. The concept of hunting or encountering creatures that did not resemble pets or the animals confined within the cages of a zoo was foreign to you. Dom gently releases your hand from his grasp, his gaze emanating reassurance despite the vacancy in his expression." Sleep, little female and this one will be back soon."  

Observing as you reluctantly nod, you make your way towards the bed. With tenderness, you remove your sister's shoes and tuck her in, finding solace in this simple act of nurturing. Your savior exits the room, leaving you to collapse onto your knees, tears cascading from your eyes. The events of today crash upon you with the intensity of a thunderstorm, and you come to the realization that it is now solely you and your sister. A small part of you regrets not bringing your parents along, but you have convinced yourself that it was the wisest choice.

 " What's wrong?"

You swiftly brush away the tears with the back of your hand. Gazing at your sister, you grasp her hand gently in yours. Her eyes hold a hint of doubt as you shake your head. It was crucial to show Jess that you were the pillar of strength, assuring her safety and control.

  "It's nothing, I'm just exhausted. Let's head to sleep okay?" Jess nods, revealing the empty side of the bed for you to rest on. You kick off your shoes and wrap yourself in the comforter. Jess joins you promptly, nestling beside you to provide warmth. The lights recognize your need for rest and dim down.

  "I love you." 

You grin and hold her hand in yours. "I love you too."

—-

The gentle murmur of voices pulls you from your slumber, but Jess is no longer by your side, leaving you feeling a sense of emptiness. Your eyes gradually open, taking in your surroundings. A sleepy yawn escapes your lips as you sit up in bed. The voices fall silent, only to be replaced by Jess' voice, beckoning you to join the conversation.

"Are you finally awake?"

A slight thumbs up is the only response Jess receives before you run your hands over your eyes, dispelling the drowsiness. "Dom says that the others will be back soon, in two hours. Then we'll be leaving here." At the mention of his name, you lift your gaze completely. The alien is stationed at the entrance, arms crossed, sporting a ghostly smile as a greeting.

Relief floods through you when he appears, and he can sense it too. Your oxytocin levels spike at the mere sight of him. The moment is disrupted by the loud rumbling of Jess' stomach, leading her to groan and flop onto the bed. "I'm starving!"

  A piece of your heart is relieved to see Jess back to her usual self, yet a part of you understands the importance of discussing the recent events and what lies ahead. Dom opens the room door and motions to it. "This one will take you to the canteen, you'll eat there." 

   Jess eagerly jumps out of bed, taking your hand and pulling you along. "Hurry, I don't want to go by myself," she pleads. You yield to her plea and stand up. Dom watches the two of you but doesn't race you to get ready. The two of you quickly put on your shoes and exit the room.

Dom assumes the lead, acknowledging the presence of the guards stationed throughout the ship. "You will eat with the rest of your kind, worry not." You reciprocate with a nod, holding your sister tightly while marveling at the ship and its bewildering gadgets that surpass Earth's comprehension. Dom opens the door for both of you, placing a comforting hand on your lower back. His touch brings solace as you step inside, with Jess following closely behind. Although the canteen isn't teeming with people, its modest occupancy provides a semblance of safety within the ship's vast expanse.

"Jess?"

    The sound of your sister's name comes from a girl with dyed red and pink hair. A dazzling diamond stud graces her pierced nose, and her eyes gleam in a warm toffee shade. It takes a moment for your sister to locate the person who called out to her, but when she does, her eyes fill with tears of happiness as she waves in acknowledgment.

You anticipate your sister's eager rush, yet she remains rooted, her hand clasping yours with increasing intensity, as if seeking your validation. A profound connection is forged as your eyes meet, and despite the weariness etched upon your visage, you manage to summon a tired smile, silently conveying your agreement. With unwavering determination, Jess propels herself towards the girl in the queue, leaping into her outstretched arms. "Kayla!"

 While your sister is occupied, you sit at an unoccupied table, startled by Dom's sudden presence across from you. "How do you and your kin fair? Little female." It's a pity that you feel more at ease with an alien than your own kind. 

" My name is [ ]."  The nickname he has given you isn't one that offends you in any way. The way he uses it is quite endearing, but you'd rather him call you by your real name than anything else. You wring your hands together and your stress levels rise steadily. Anxious thoughts swirl in your mind as you ponder,  "What will happen to everyone else that's left here?" 

Your name carries the meaning of 'to conquer' in his native tongue and he finds it fitting for you. Dom's jaw tightens slightly as he locks eyes with you. "This one will not lie to you. Many of your species will die, it is survival of the fittest when it comes to the Qęnłar. They are hard to kill without proper weapons but it is not impossible."  

[ Abomination¹]

A soft gasp is stifled by your hand as tears well up in your eyes. The sense of guilt consumes you, making you question your own worthiness. Unsure of how you could have helped, you can't help but feel like an imposter among those who perished.

Dom seems to sense your inner turmoil and does his best to console you. "There is not much you could've done, litt–."His voice falters momentarily as he nearly utters the name he'd given you, but he swiftly regains composure. "Had you not gone out that night, you also could've been left here on terra to die. None aboard this vessel would have spared a second thought to rescue you." 

 It's clear that he's not skilled at soothing people, particularly humans, yet you offer your thanks with a watery smile. As he opens his mouth to speak again, he gently places a hand on his ear. Despite the absence of eyebrows, you observe the furrow in the center of his forehead. His gaze turns icy as he stands up from the table.

   "This one will find you in your chambers later, ask the guard to lead you when you are ready. Fęrłåk dė hłał." Although you don't understand the meaning behind his words, you nod in agreement, captivated by the enigmatic aura surrounding him. He then departs, pausing briefly to converse with the guard. [ Eat well ¹] 

  With a glance in your direction, the alien acknowledges Dom with a nod. Your stomach emits a low growl, prompting you to lay your head on the table, too fatigued to make a move.

Clang!

Next to your slouched figure, Jess sets down two trays brimming with mouth-watering dishes. As you straighten up, a grin spreads across your face. You instinctively grab the tray loaded with an assortment of fruits, feeling understood by her intuitive gesture— she knew you so well.

"Where did he go?" You assume she's talking about Dom. With a nonchalant shrug of your shoulders, you indulged in the succulent sweetness of a ripe mango, savoring each delicate bite.

 "Jess. What happened yesterday–."

The girl holds up her hand. "I don't know what happened when you left, and there's no need to tell me. I've never questioned anything you've done for me before because you always have the best interest at heart. Thank you for coming back for me. Dom told me that you wouldn't leave without me." 

She gazes down at her tray of food. "A part of me feels guilty for leaving mom and dad but I know that you made the right decision and had your reasons." Jess lets out a shaky sigh and turns to face you. "I'm scared, absolutely terrified but I want to be strong for you. Like how you are for me. I can tell you're stressed as it is and I don't want to burden you." 

  You pull her into a hug and shake your head. "Jess, you could never, and I mean never be a burden to me. Do you understand?" She nods into your chest, sniffling softly. You rub her back and bite your lip. "I'm also really scared, this is new to me but I'll make sure that we'll get through it."

She nods again and pulls away from you. You purse your lips, a mixture of emotions swirling within you, and decide to divert your attention by savoring the delectable cantaloupe. "Now eat. You pulled me from my sleep and I want to go back to bed."  Jess chuckles softly, her head bobbing in agreement. " I'm also really sleepy. It'd also be crazy to wake up in space." 

 The mere thought causes you to grimace involuntarily. This entire experience is uncharted territory for you, but just like in the past, you will learn to adapt and persevere. The cool, refreshing juice of the watermelon glides down your throat, its delightful taste prompting a gentle hum of satisfaction.

 It feels almost surreal to grasp the idea that within a mere two hours, you will bid farewell to your beloved home. A place you believed to be exclusively inhabited by humans, the notion of extraterrestrial existence had never crossed your mind. The journey that lies ahead will undoubtedly present its fair share of challenges and hardships. This very moment, unfolding like a scene from an otherworldly sci-fi saga, is something you never could have anticipated, even in your wildest dreams. And now, as you find yourself in this new reality, your mission has taken on a profound meaning - to protect Jess at all costs.

 "Captain X'ęnš would like to enter your chambers. Will you allow him access?"

   In a state of heightened alertness, you find yourself sitting up, your muscles tense with anticipation. The room is suddenly bathed in light, only to swiftly dim as the perceptive AI detects that Jess is still sound asleep. A wave of uncertainty washes over you as you contemplate the identity of the person standing outside the door. 

 Your gaze sweeps across the room, desperately seeking an object to grasp onto for a sense of security. Eventually, your eyes settle upon one of your worn boots. With a mixture of doubt and determination, you call out to the AI. "Please show me the door feed." A brief moment of silence ensues before the AI responds, its voice calm and reassuring. "Certainly."

The door shimmers, revealing a translucent barrier that draws you nearer. Dropping the shoe, you breathe a sigh of contentment at the sight of Dom standing before you. Standing in front of the door, you gaze at him, captivated by the intricacies of his face.

 "Can he see me?"

In a swift response, the AI speaks, "Negative, this is a unidirectional perspective. He is visible solely to you."  As soon as it finishes saying that, Dom raises his head. Your heart pounds rapidly as his gaze eerily connects with yours, contradicting the AI's statement. "Open the door."

As the entryway unfolds with a whisper, Dom's towering figure emerges. You greet him with a breathless smile, slipping your hands into your back pockets. "Hi." Dom mellows at your soft tone, allowing you to place a hand on his arm and push him back, watching as you discreetly slide out of the room so as to not wake up your sister. He does a once over, looking for any wounds or signs of distress, and finds that he's pleased with himself that you're alright. 

 "This one said he would visit after his duties, jœrmünd łæ bšłåm." He watches with amusement as your eyebrows furrow. " What does that mean?" Your lips form a thoughtful pout. "And earlier you said, ferrak di hal." From the moment you first laid eyes on him, even though it was just recently, you had been curious to discover the sound of his laughter, and it did not disappoint.

   His laugh isn't boisterous. It's a deep and soothing sound, akin to the soft murmur of a distant waterfall. As the echoes of his laughter reached your ears, they stirred a gentle fire within, causing a delightful warmth to spread and caress your belly. Whether he noticed the subtle increase in your body's temperature or not, he remained silent, allowing the enchantment of the moment to weave its spell.

    "Jœrmünd łæ bšłåm, it translates roughly in terra language to, 'good evening.'" His eyes twinkle with a playful delight as you attempt to mimic the intricate sounds and melodic cadence. " Fęrłåk dė hłał. It means to, eat well."

Dom gazes intently at you, then clasps his hands behind his back. "Walk with this one."  You wriggle your toes in your cozy socks and give a slight nod. 

As if guided by an invisible force, your steps align effortlessly with Dom's. The silence envelops you, but it feels far from uncomfortable. Your gaze wanders through the vast corridors of the ship, capturing glimpses of unfamiliar beings from distant worlds. At this moment, you break the silence and softly inquire, "May I know your name?"

With a quick glance, Dom's gaze shifts to you, his lips forming a straight line, prompting a frown to appear on your face. You ponder if your request was too bold, unsure of the cultural norms that may have been offended by your question.

As he utters the words, a sense of relief washes over you, even though his expression seems tinged with sadness. "This one's given name is Nim'xėn." he murmurs. In the distance, a group of his fimea approaches, but you remain oblivious, lost in your own thoughts. With a tender touch, he clasps your wrist and guides you to his side, yet your attention barely registers the gesture. [ soldiers ]

  "Nim'xėn, in the language I speak, translates to 'of soft heart'. It doesn't much fit, when it comes to this one's line of work." Your mouth opened in a small 'o', that was probably the reason he had stuck with Dom all this time. You laughed softly, holding your hands up in surrender when he shoots you a coltish look of exasperation. 

    "I think it fits, regardless of what you do." There is no trace of mockery in your tone, nor any hint of jesting at his expense. With a gentle smile adorning his face, he steals a glance at you. A surge of warmth courses through your veins, causing your body temperature to soar. Swiftly, he averts his gaze, evading your notice.

With a gentle laugh, he responds to your attempt at saying his name, "Nim'jin?" He guides you towards a door, "This one will help you practice your Tuökkorsė, later." You assume that he's talking about his home language and your cheeks flush with embarrassment, making you question just how badly you butchered his name.

As Nim'xėn gently swings open the door, a beckoning gesture invites you to step inside. Without hesitation, you follow the invitation, and in an instant, your jaw falls open in awe. Unbeknownst to you and Jess, who had been lost in slumber for over two hours, the ship had gracefully ascended into the vastness of space. The sight before you is nothing short of breathtaking, confirming your belief that waking up to the wonders of the cosmos is an experience beyond compare.

The space around you is encased in what looks like a delicate glass structure. You floated weightlessly in the vast expanse of the universe, far from the comforts of home. "Nim, this is truly breathtaking," you marveled. The alien blinked in response to the endearing nickname but remained silent. "Jess would love to see this." 

  Nim'xėn walks up behind you and fixates on the view he has witnessed countless times. However, inexplicably, he discovers himself treasuring your pįiwth expressions and yearning to unveil new wonders, all to witness your delightful grin once more. [ childish or cute¹ ] 

 "This one gives permission for you and your kin to visit here anytime." The enigmatic allure you possess has captivated him, leaving him bewildered. It is not his nature to be swayed so easily. He should have abandoned you on that desolate street, yet your innocent gaze had a profound effect on him. The depth of your love for your family astounded him, for even in the presence of imminent danger, your thoughts were solely consumed by her, and her alone.

Once he had escorted you to your room, his task should have been complete. Yet, your tender human hand had entwined with his own. Your unwavering trust and reliance had ensnared him, making it difficult for him to let go. In a realm where his female counterparts were independent and formidable, that moment of vulnerability had drawn him in, like a eürq to light.

 [ large mosquito like creature —  a saying similar to, ' a moth to flame ' ¹ ]

   Yet, he also knew how strong you were. None before you had managed to match his speed, let alone endure it for an entire three hours. Your unwavering determination fascinated him. Nim'xėn yearned to prolong your time together, reluctant to bid you farewell.

 Turning to the extraterrestrial, you met his gaze with the same wide-eyed innocence that had captivated him during your initial encounter. "Seriously?" His nod elicited a radiant smile on your face, reminiscent of the joy of Christmas, and Nim'xėn felt a flutter in his hearts. Your eyes then sought his. "How do you say thank you in your language?"

 Nim'xėn couldn't help but find it pįiwth¹ that you were making an effort to learn his people's language. He decided to humor you. "Stęq'hn kevvhr.²" The alien chuckles when you grimace, looking up at him with furrowed brows.  [ childish or cute¹ ] [ thank you² ]

 "Lirft X'ęnš, quœ mojå iėał ph'ük ak hlem.¹ "

As he tightens his jaw, a resolute grunt escapes his lips. Returning his attention to you, he observes the slight downturn of your plush lips and the tilt of your head to the side. "Do you need to leave, again?" Nim'xėn softly hums, his hand finding solace on your lower back as he leads you towards the door.

[ Captain X'ęnš, we need your assistance up front. ¹ ]

"This one will take you back to your room."

 As you tread back, a hushed calmness settles in, and Nim'xėn discerns that your thoughts have carried you away. Respecting your need for introspection, he chooses not to disturb your reverie. Upon arriving at the room, you turn around, meeting his gaze head-on. "Stęq'han kever." Without delay, you slip inside, leaving him standing there, his words left unspoken.

   He then realizes that while the two of you were walking back, you had been trying to replicate what he had just said. Nim'xėn, finding himself once more, made his way towards the pit. Despite your imperfect rendition, he grasped the essence of your intention and couldn't help but chuckle to himself.

phæż pįiwth ¹ he thought.  [ how cute. ¹ ]

[verysium]

『03』 ブルーロック: blue lock recs

冴糸師: sae itoshi

lost to time by @syriiina

nostalgia. it’s delicate but potent. “nostalgia” literally means “the pain from an old wound” in greek. it’s the twinge in your heart far more powerful than memory alone – a feeling of a place where we ache to go again. but in sae’s case, it’s the painful ache in his chest to return to someone that’s already been buried by the sands of the past; the yearning for someone that’s already been lost to time. notes: this fic emotionally destroyed me; heavy angst paired with audio recordings; basically the most gut-wrenching combination ever; smooth chronological plot development; encapsulates the dichotomous pain and pleasure of love; i felt like my heart was healing and hurting at the same time

merry go round by @syriiina

what if you were given another chance? another chance to say all the things you’ve wanted to say, cry all the tears you couldn’t and hear the voice of the person you’ve cherished all your life? sae itoshi was given that chance. just one more chance for your birthday that he’ll never get to spend with you. just another chance at goodbye. notes: at this point this author needs to pay for my therapy; examining the process of grief; almost dreamy and hallucination-inducing atmosphere; idea of letting go; new beginnings; childhood nostalgia; sequel to first fic

to my first love / to my last love by @by-moonflower

when you agreed to date itoshi sae in mid-october of 1993, you never imagined he'd be your first love—whose presence would continue to linger in your life, hauntingly, even if a year, two, or ten came to pass. notes: high school sweethearts to exes to lovers again; examines insecurities of girlhood; idea of love being a process of trying and trying again; reader discovers herself before she discovers others; happy ending; pre-2000s nostalgia; montage/vignette style

come out and haunt me by @alaboadoa

sae is 13 years old when he moves to madrid. his temporary apartment is old and cheap, and worst of all it's haunted. but he finds your company better than nothing, even if you do tend to knock all of his belongings over. notes: incredibly well-written study of sae’s character especially as a pre-teen; honestly would've never expected a ghost AU; this author has such a beautiful mind; finding commonality in exclusion and lack of belonging; a unique rendition of right person, wrong time; loving someone but still not being enough

hungry hearts by @sanzu-sanzu-sanzu

You are Itoshi Sae’s Manager. Fielder of dumb reporter questions and keeper of his schedule. Among many others. notes: their dynamic reminds me of miguel and lyla from the spiderverse or that one kdrama about secretary kim; sae denying that he is in love yet noticing every little detail about reader; their witty banter is so funny; gradual realization of feelings; honestly i think this is how canon sae would fall in love

find love by @tenjiiku

“Mama?” “Yes, little bunny?” You call her by such a name because when she was a toddler she had somewhat of an obsession with playing leap frog with others. The original pet name had been little frog, but it had caused a rather large tantrum, so you never used such a term with her. Her father suggested it. It was the only thing he made that you still used. notes: i don't even need a rec to tell you how good this is; nuanced portrayal of divorce; honestly hit too close to home; idea of marriage not being endgame; slight hint of second-chance romance; love that never fades; sae being emotionally oblivious; for the hopeless romantics

the hanshin expressway by @tenjiiku

He remembers how sad you had looked — gentle, sweet and kindhearted you. And he remembers feeling the urge to hold you. Because it was the first time he voluntarily felt such a gripping emotion. He recalls the way your nimble fingers trembled around your second mug of jasmine tea, and he looks back on the way you turned to him with a forced smile, as if it was the easiest thing to do — to bear yourself and all of your little idiosyncrasies in front of him, no walls, no windows. Just you and him. You, reprimanded for your selfless displays of kindness. Him, admonished for his lack of expressing his. It was hard not to let himself fall into you. notes: literally even the premise of this fic is not for the weak; amnesia tropes are the death of me; prose is so tender and beautiful; sae being the one who now teaches the reader how to love; role reversal; reliving grief; idea of being unable to equate the past and present versions of the person you love; people change and you are helpless to stop it; being unable to return to what once was

rezkinoff / prelude by @tenjiiku

07.01. It is the first day of my break. I am going to journal both my fitness levels and caloric intake because my nutritionist has told me to. I will also note a daily observation so as to look back on my time with certainty that I have spent it properly and because you have told me to. Today’s observation: the heels of my feet are growing calluses and I found a single strand of white hair, still on my head. I need better shoes and hair dye. Perhaps something is in the water. — Itoshi. S notes: one of the most authentic portrayals of sae’s character; sae being emotionally inept but slowly learning; aging but as a graceful process; daily observations of life; the epistolary style makes it a smooth reading experience; ambiguous enough for interpretation

us, again by @ode2rin

in which: itoshi sae returns to the only place on earth he vows to never set foot again. notes: one of the best second-chance romance fics out there; i still think about this fic at night; just the right balance of hurt and comfort; sae and reader both messing it up and finding each other again; dilemma of both loving and hating a person; has a coffee shop scene and a dramatic airport reunion so what is there not to like

scraps by @itoshiexx

you give him all you have. it's time to collect the scraps before there is nothing left. notes: short but packs the most brutal emotional punch at the end; idea of love not being enough; sae pushing reader away; miscommunication; hurt people hurt people; giving up on someone you love most; falling out of love

conversations by @saerins

he’s back home, and you recall the times you’d spoken to him. all the calls you made, then all the calls he made, and then all the times it went to voicemail. notes: i was having a good day until i read this and started violently sobbing; honestly it's a pretty accurate reflection of fame and the troubles it brings for both you and sae; the voicemails crushed something within me; i was grieving for a relationship that never existed; please read when you want a good cry; thank god for the alternate ending here

do stars return? by @hanyjar

your childhood friend leaves, and you question if he’ll ever come back. notes: the way that i ate this shit up with no crumbs. sae itoshi and star metaphors go hand in hand. picture this: you and sae grow up and then he leaves you and then he comes back again. now amplify that and add childhood angst and a sprinkle of poetic language. you're welcome.

凛糸師: rin itoshi

the first snow by @tenjiiku

It’d take him 3 lonely nights for Rin to admit to himself he wanted to see you again. He wonders if he torments you as much as you do him. notes: two-shot that changed the trajectory of my life; this author absolutely nails the slice of life genre every single time; finding beauty in the mundane; realistic depictions of modern love; somewhat slow-burn; dialogue and internal conscience are beautifully written

riptide by @misssleepless12

Concerned with how things were left after U-20, Isagi goes to visit Rin before the end of break. They address it. Sort of. notes: not necessarily a rinsagi shipper but this fic has a stunningly accurate portrayal of MLM romance; no sense of false idealism or over-romanticization; rin and isagi’s natural dynamic is perfectly captured; strong imagery and cultural setting of kamakura; rin’s sarcasm is on point

カイザ: michael kaiser

five dates and a proposal by @by-moonflower

all it takes is five dates for kaiser to fall in love with you and you in him, much to your surprise. notes: this fic actually made me believe in love; strong female character; fear of love and gradual opening up; basically what it feels like to fall in love with someone you never thought you’d actually love; realistic depiction of insecurities

color me blue by @saekkas

in which you need to wrestle your boyfriend, michael kaiser, out of his bed to fulfill a promise: re-dye his hair. notes: domestic fluff; michael being childishly cute; imperfections as perfections; heart-warming snapshot of established couple life; never fails to make me smile when i reread it

[grimbluesins]

WILD KRATTS SHAPESHIFTER AU

THE KRATT BROTHERS

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

Maerrtín is the older of the Kratt brothers. He likes the color blue because it reminds him of the ocean. He adores aquatic creatures and loves swimming and diving through the clearest waters he can find. He also enjoys reading and writing, and he keeps careful records of every creature he sees so he’s always able to turn into nearly anything he wants. He keeps a giant book in his bag that he wants to turn into a massive compendium of every creature on the planet (a little ambitious, but why not?)

When he’s in disguise as a human, he’s Martin Kratt, a zoologist who goes around taking pictures and notes of different animals. He’s happy to give out information about certain animals and likes learning about every creature he can find.

Krrhies is the younger of the brothers, and also the less cautious. He’s often seen swinging or jumping through the treetops, climbing steep cliffsides, or performing incredible acrobatic feats. He likes green the most because he loves the natural shades of the woodlands. He really likes flying both over and under the leafy canopies, so he’s usually seen as some kind of bird or flying mammal. However, he also likes running really quickly, and he’ll sometimes become mammals. He has a tendency to try and eat every cool plant, flower, or wild berry he can see (even if it’s extremely toxic).

When disguised as a human, he’s the excitable Chris Kratt, a zoologist who runs little experiments and takes on the more hands-on parts of the science. He prefers to observe and report while Martin takes the notes. Chris has a special little passion for magical creatures, who are incredibly strange and little-seen animals like unicorns, chimeras, and even dragons.

This duo is determined to find their forms together while staying alive (Martin) and causing as much chaos as possible (Chris). Martin’s anxiety about being discovered strongly rivals Chris’s confidence that they’ll just “become the cool outlaws that will change the status quo.” They’re a little strange, but they can’t live without each other by their side. And damn it, even in their true forms, they’ll still stay close together, right?

[in1-nutshell]

HELLO‼️ I hope you are safe and well with the hurricane and I'm so glad that I'm able to finally send a request so here it is‼️

There's not many rescue bots oneshots and I want to change that, so in Rescue bots theres human skater buddy with their head in the clouds leading them to getting into trouble frequently (like nearly getting hit by a car or just getting into the crossfire of the rescue bots shenanigans) and it's like to a point where the whole when they are out on a mission have to keep a spare eye/optic out for the little human‼️

I hope you'll be able to get to this before it's deleted or whatever, but still, I can't wait to see what you come up with for this concept. Thanks, and have a good day/night‼️

Introducing Danger magnet Buddy! love this concept!

Hope you enjoy!

Human Buddy the skater and a danger magnet

SFW, Platonic, Human Reader

RB

The Burns family had known about Buddy’s little quirks for years.

They were after all good friends with Cody throughout their childhood.

The kid had their head up in the clouds or down with their skates.

Luckily, Cody always seemed to find ways to get them back down to Earth.

Too bad there wasn’t much he could do about their terrible luck with dangerous situations.

They never mean to be in these situations, they just happen when they’re around.

It took a while for the Burns to finally understand it wasn’t their fault.

It was a small island, one was bound to get stuck in the crossfire at some point.

When the Bots arrived, Cody made sure to debrief them a bit about his friend’s tendencies.

Heatwave is convinced that Buddy is doing it for attention.

There is now way someone can be THAT unlucky.

Not even on this island.

Kade and him have little talks about Buddy being a ‘danger magnet.’

Kade: “You think they are doing it for attention?” Heatwave: “Isn’t it obvious? There’s no way they aren’t doing it for any other reason.” Kade chuckles. Kade: “We used to think that too… but after a few years of seeing their little dumb face around, you kinda start believing it.” Heatwave: “What do you mean?” Kade: “There a bit of a danger magnet.” Heatwave: “Why is that a magnet you have!?”

He does start believing the existence of ‘the danger magnet’ after a few missions where Buddy just showed up randomly.

Heatwave hates to see Buddy in the line of fire, especially when they have no control over it.

Always reminds his team to keep an extra optic out for the little skater.

Speaking of skates, Heatwave actually likes seeing Buddy skate around the bunker.

Especially when they show off some of their tricks.

Buddy is a bit oblivious to why Heatwave is so insistent to them staying with Cody on com job.

Chase and Boulder are confused.

Why does Buddy go to these dangerous places?

They aren’t durable enough to be so close to the danger.

Chase has a separate file on all of Buddy’s incidents.

Chief Burns: “Chase? You, okay?” Chase is typing on a data pad. Chase: “I am simply reporting Buddy’s latest incident on today’s rescue. Today they were stuck in the same tree as Mister Pettypaws… I still wonder how they got up there with their skates…” Chief Burns: “Oh, don’t think too hard about that Chase. That’s just how Buddy is.” Chase: “Do they like danger?” Chief Burns: “No, they just have a bad record of being in places at the wrong time.” Chase: “… I can try to clean their record if you allow me access to them.”

Boulder takes a more direct approach and asks Buddy why they keep going towards danger.

Buddy just shrugs and goes back to their skates.

The green mech decides to ask the others about Buddy’s behavior instead.

Boulder: “Is something wrong with them?” Graham: “Nothing’s wrong with them Boulder.” Boulder: “Then how come they always seem to be near our dangerous missions? Even Cody doesn’t do that too often.” Graham: “When you’ve known them as long as we have, you start believing the phrase ‘wrong place and the wrong time.’ We can’t exactly explain it, but the best we can do is look out for them. No one can control what happens outside Boulder.” Boulder: “Hmm… I guess you’re right.” Later… Chase and Boulder look at their creation with pride. Buddy is wrapped head to toe with bubble wrap. Buddy: “How am I gonna skate like this?” Chase: “Sacrifices must be made Buddy.”

The pair find Buddy’s skating to be interesting and a bit relaxing… as long as Buddy has the proper safety equipment on them.

 Buddy doesn’t like the ‘creative’ ways the bots are trying to keep them ‘safe’, but the thought is what counts.

Blades, unlike the others, fully understands the phrase ‘wrong place, wrong time.’

But he also believes an outside force is making Buddy go to these dangerous places.

Already has a bulletin board with the red string trying to figure out what could be making the little skater go to these places.

Blades shows the board to the rest of the bots. Blades: “I’m telling you guys! There’s a connection somewhere!” Heatwave: “… How long have you been working on this?” Blades: “Not important.” Chase: “Blades, is it highly unlikely that something is making Buddy do these things.” Blades: “But if you see what happened last month and 5 months ago—” Boulder: “Blades, when was the last time you recharged?” Blades: “Not important.” Heatwave: “I’m calling Dani.” Blades: "Wait don’t!”

He just doesn’t want Buddy to get hurt by being in places they aren’t supposed to be.

Blades has a separate med kit in his subspace labeled ‘Buddy’s’.

The bot loves Buddy’s skates and has already asked Doc Greene if he could make a pair for him.

Heatwave has tried to stop him from getting these skates too many times to count.

He isn’t known for being the best with balance.

Buddy enjoys Blades making little videos and changing music while they skate around.

[multiplicity-positivity]

Internal Meetings

This post also started out as an ask response, but it kept getting longer so we’re making it a post on it’s own! Our own system has internal meetings once every month or so. We’ll share a bit about what that entails along with answering some specific questions which were sent by the anon asker. In a Q&A format so we can be sure to answer everything!

What is an internal meeting?

An internal or in-system meeting is a gathering, conference, or conversation held by multiple members within a system. An internal meeting can have as few as two members or as many as countless, depending on the system and their own capabilities. In our collective of around 20 members, usually 8-12 show up to our meetings. It can get to be a bit crowded!

During our system meetings, we update others on how our life is going internally and externally. We ask each other how they are doing, and have others provide status reports for members who are unable or unwilling to attend. We create an updated roll call for our parts to keep track of our members. We keep each other in the loop about important events happening in and outside the system. And we try to in general just socialize with each other a little bit to help us stay connected and in tune with one another.

How can we go about establishing internal meetings?

Our meetings started off with just three members, and they grew gradually over time and as our communication skills improved. It’s okay for your system meetings to start out small! To start up a meeting, first establish when and where the meeting will be held. Pick a time that works for your system when you don’t have prior obligations and can be fairly uninterrupted. Our own system holds our meetings in the living room of our headspace, with our body physically in our bedroom in the evening when we are calm, safe, and available.

Whoever wants to hold the meeting should tell every headmate they have access to, and those headmates can in turn tell others. If you’ve established a time and place, you can do things like set a reminder on your phone, save the date on your calendar, or leave a note somewhere that’s visible which other headmates can access.

How do we get into a routine of holding internal meetings?

Our system started off haphazardly trying to hold a meeting whenever we felt we needed one… but it got hard to keep up with. We are autistic and incredibly routine-oriented, so incorporating internal meetings into our routine helped a great deal to ensure we could actually have a meeting successfully.

Our meetings now take place on the second Wednesday of every month (or every other month if we feel like we don’t need/aren’t ready to meet) at 7:00 PM. This is a time where we are usually not busy, and are able to set aside an hour or so where we will not be rushed, bothered, or distracted. We have the meeting time set in our calendar, and there are a couple members in our system who have taken the job of keeping us reminded about our meeting and gathering those who want to join when it’s time for the conference to take place.

To those hoping to start up a routine, our best advice is to pick a time that works best for everyone and start making attempts regularly. Whether it’s once a year, bimonthly, once a month, once a week, or once a day, make a habit of attempting to meet whenever your established meeting time comes around. The more often you make genuine attempts to meet, the easier it will be to hold a successful meeting in the future!

What if some headmates can’t/don’t show up?

This is likely bound to happen, especially if your system is large or has high dissociative barriers. And that’s okay! Our own system has a designated minutes taker (or record keeper) who takes notes during the meeting in our physical journal. That way, any part who was unable to attend can check out a record of what happened during the meeting as they are able.

We also have some parts who don’t front often, some of whom also struggle with things like reading and staying grounded. For these parts, our caretaker pays attention in the meeting in order to share what we’ve discussed with them at a later time. If your system has headmates who don’t front often or who may struggle to understand a notes recap, having a designated headmate who can effectively relay the meeting’s events to these system members may be incredibly helpful!

What if some headmates refuse to show up?

It is a very real possibility that some headmates may refuse to attend your system’s internal meeting. They may have certain issues which prevent them from comfortably attending. They may not get along with the rest of your system. They may be sullen or traumatized or obstinate. And while it is important to try and include these headmates in system life as much as possible, we don’t recommend forcing them to show up or scolding, punishing, or shunning them for not attending.

Rather, we’d recommend treating them as you’d treat those who genuinely can’t make it to the meeting. Keep the meeting’s minutes in a central, visible place where they can see when they next front. If someone who has been to the meeting interacts with them in the future, maybe they can share some key points or takeaways. If they are unwilling to listen, be frank with them and insist on telling them only the things which are necessary for the system to know for their own safety. In all this, remind them that they are welcome to attend any future meetings, but will never be shamed for not showing up.

How can we keep internal meetings diplomatic?

Our system has a part whose role is mediator. They act as a calming presence and help to keep the peace when things get heated. If your system has a member who has or is willing to take on this role, maybe let them try to act as a diplomat for a meeting and see how it goes.

Some things to keep in mind for the whole system during meetings:

Things may get intense. There is a difference between heated discussion and useless, spiteful arguing. The former should be welcome in system meetings while the latter should be banned.

Internal meetings are for everyone. If one headmate is facilitating the meeting, that’s fine. But if one member is monopolizing the meeting and taking up all of the time talking about what they want while ignoring the wants and needs of their headmates, that is not fine.

Fights may happen. When they do, ask the members involved to breathe and calm down before expressing themselves. Words exchanged in the heat of an angry moment often sting more than those said after a chance to reflect. Maybe invite overwhelmed or emotional headmates to use REST (<- hyperlink to our post) before speaking in order to engage more effectively.

Do not shame, judge, or make fun of any headmate for concerns or ideas that they bring to the meeting. Do your best to treat each other as dignified equals, even if what someone else says sounds goofy or ridiculous. Take each other’s thoughts seriously and treat each other with as much patience and kindness as you can.

How can we ensure every voice is heard equally?

Our system usually has a roster of members pulled up (like Simply Plural or our own list) during meetings. We take note of who is there, then try to make sure that we’ve heard from everyone who has something to say. Sometimes headmates may want to just observe, and that’s fine! No one should be forced to share if they don’t want to.

Having a designated facilitator can immensely help with making sure every headmate’s voice can be heard equally. The facilitator can chime in with “Greg, we haven’t heard from you in a while, is there anything you’d like to add?” or “Daisy, you’ve been talking the most today, why don’t we let someone else share their ideas?” It’s possible to facilitate in a calm and non-confrontational way that allows all members to be heard while simultaneously not forcing other members to feel like they’re leaving the meeting without fully expressing themselves.

Conclusion

Another long post from us… our apologies! We do hope that this post may have some useful tips for anyone out there who is hoping to start internal meetings in their own system. Please keep in mind that resulte may vary, and it may take a few tries before you’re actually able to hold a successful meeting. That’s okay though - don’t give up and keep trying regularly!

We’d love to hear from y’all! How do internal meetings work in your system? Do you employ any strategies that we haven’t listed here? If you’ve made it this far, thanks so much for reading! Have a great day, everyone!

[dxckinson]

Status: Closed — Self Para / Lore Dump

TW: REFERENCES TO WAR, GENOCIDE, IMPLIED CHILD DEATH

The Hill—the Afternoon—

CASE █████████ PROTOCOL PROPOSED BY: AGENT ████████

RESULTS: SUCCESS — POTENTIAL CRISIS EVENT AVOIDED — FAILED TIMELINE(S) DIVERTED | JANUARY 20, 1981 ; 10:56 EDT | WASHINGTON, DC | EXACT LOCATION: █████████████████ — BOMBING — 151 LIVES SAVED

CHECK POINT DATE AND TIME:  ██-██-████ / ██:██

LOCATION: ████████, NEW YORK — EXACT LOCATION: ██████████████

ASSIGNED TO: AGENT WHITMAN [@whitmanners] & AGENT STEIN [@anotheryear]

MISSION DATE: AUGUST 24th, 1977 — 1:05 PM (MST) | SONORA DESERT — ARIZONA — SERVICE ROAD OF THE N AJO SONOITA HIGHWAY (AZ 85) NEAR WHY, AZ — 32°14'32.7"N 112°46'04.5"W — RESULTS : 256 LIVES SAVED — (1) NEW AGENT RECRUITED

With sweat pouring from every orifice, Gael Esai Tiul-Xol regarded the tightly sealed metal doors of the trailer from the truck’s bed. There was a small array of seemingly random objects laid before him: a short blunt knife, a pile of different sized coins, the laces from various pairs of shoes, a folded pair of tube socks, two rosaries, an empty aluminum can, a small metal nail file, a pocket mirror, and a frayed, three-foot length of braided rope.

Though the items may not have looked like much, these were the tools of his salvation. It was a puzzle he had managed to solve countless times, in another life. Or rather, in a multitude of other lives. He was not aware of this fact, or would ever be. God willing.

Thin ribbons of light pour in through the dozens of rust holes scattered across the top of the truck and the two 6-inch by 4-inch vents on either side of the doors. There was no comfort in the fact that he wouldn't suffocate, however. Behind him, the other migrants on board the semi-truck's trailer were despondent. Moral had plummeted after hours of pushing at the doors and rocking the trailer with no success. And though he managed to calm everyone down as to not exhaust their limited oxygen flow, they all knew what was coming. For as the sun breached the night sky and continued its slow ascend, so had the temperature. He could already feel himself growing weaker as they baked in their steel coffin.

They were running out of time. All he needed was a little more time.

His mind struggled to form a plan, distracted by his own labored breathing and the wails and pleas from his ill-fated travel companions. They cried out for their God, their Shepherd, their saints and martyrs; anyone who could offer them deliverance from their upcoming, excruciating death.

—Por favor, Diosito, ten misericordia en nosotros, tus fieles seguidores. [Please, God, have mercy on us, your loyal followers.] —!Por Dios!, ¿cómo nos pudo dejar aquí? [Oh, God! How could he leave us here?] —¡No somo animales ni basura! ¡Regresa culero! [We’re not animals or trash! Come back, asshole!] —Ten piedad de mí, Señor, conforme a tu misericordia. [Have pity on me, Lord, in accordance with your mercy.] —San Expedito, ayúdenos en esta hora de aflicción y desesperación. [Saint Expeditus, help us in this hour of grief and despiration.] —Por favor, ¡hagan algo! No me puedo morir aquí. Tengo un hijo, por favor…[Please, someone do something! I can’t die here. I have a son, please…]

Part of him wanted to tell them to shut up, so he could think, but could not bring himself to silence their laments when he could offer them no solution, no salvation. Pressing the palms of his hands into the sockets of his eyes, Gael crumpled downward into himself, willing his brain to find the solution with the tools he had before him.

The knife and nail file were too thin and blunt to withstand the force of human desperation. Perhaps the rope could be unbraided and used to rip off on of the welded on metal vents if they used their combined strength, but then what? Even if someone in the truck had arms thin enough to fit in the small rectangular space that would be left, Gael could not remember where the latch for the doors had been. And what if it had been locked with a padlock?

What would he do if, with the temptation of freedom seemingly so close, he lost what little control he had over the group? Would they panic and rush for the gap, crushing everyone in their way? He needed to find the answer before he tried anything. He just needed a little more time.

Keeping his eyes shut, he shifted his hands to cover his ears, trying to visualize the exact make and model of the semi from his memories. Had the latch been at the center, bottom, or the right of the doors? 'C’mon. Remember, damn it!'

So lost in thought, Gael didn’t notice the sound of a vehicle pulling up beside the truck until one of the elderly men on board began to shake his shoulder.

—Mijo, alguien juego. ¡Escucha!, se bajaron del coche… ¿Qué deberíamos hacer? [Young man, someone is here. Listen! They got out of the car… What should we do?]

But the question was a moot point as the others rushed to the side of the truck where the noise had come from and began yelling for help. Straining his ears to hear over the sound of the crowd, he realized with cold trepidation that there is no sound of sirens or police radio chatter. Gael’s heart raced with anxiety as he moved to stand.

Whoever just arrived was not U.S. law enforcement.

He then heard the sound of gravel crunching under boots; whoever was out there was moving towards the doors. Trying to calm down, he noted that the steps were off beat from each other. It had to be more than one person, then. But how many? Two, or more?

As Gael continued to rack his brain, there was movement at the doors; someone was cursing in English. Before Gael could mentally translate what was said, the doors burst open, the full force of the August sun leaving him momentarily blinded. Standing at the front of the group and nearest to the door, Gael spread his arms wide, his eyes tightly shut; he needed to stop his companions from rushing forward before he gave the all clear. They had no idea if whoever had just arrived had ill intentions or not.

His intuition was validated when his eyes adjusted to the harsh sunlight. A Colt AR-15 gleamed in the sun, its barrel aimed directly at the crowd, who shrieked with renewed despair.

—No se muevan. El señor Tiul, por favor bájese del camión. [Nobody move. Mr. Tiul, please step out of the truck.]

Gael’s heart soared, only to drop like lead once he realized his EGP comrades would not speak Spanish in such a heavy American accent.

“C’mon, man. We don’t have all day,” A second voice said, its owner looking directly at him.

‘Must be the Feds then’, Gael thought solemnly, lowering his arms. He wondered who among the EGP ranks would betray them like this. Matching gazes with the agent holding the gun, Gael let out a deep breath and started to step forward, but was stopped by multiple hands grabbing at his shirt and arms. Surprised, he turned back to look at his travel companions.

—No vayas.[Don’t go.] —Algo no está bien, mijito. No lo hagas.[Something isn’t right, sweetie. Don’t do it.] —¿Cuántas balas piensas que tienen? No nos pueden matarnos a todos si avanzamos como un grupo.[How many bullets do you think they have? They can’t kill us all if we move forward as a group.]

Gael knew that the campesinos were no strangers to scenes just like this, where one of their own was taken by men with guns to never be seen or heard from again. But Gael wasn't one of theirs; they had only met him in Nogales prior to this trip. And yet, they felt enough solidarity with the guatemalteco to risk their own lives for his. Their compassion almost brought tears to his eyes. But he would not let them die in his place.

Turning back to face the agents, Gael lifted his chin and addressed them in unaccented English. “What will happen to these people if I go with you?”

—Solamente vinimos por el señor Tiul. La policía y ambulancias llegarán en treinta minutos. No nos importa lo que hacen ustedes. Si se quedan a esperarlos después que nos vamos o no es decisión suya. [We only came for Mr. Tiul. The police and ambulances will be here in thirty minutes. We don't care what the others do. Whether you stay and wait for them after we leave or not is your decision]— the agent with the rifle said in his stiff Spanish.

“How can I trust that you will keep your word?” Gael challenged, shifting his gaze to motion at the gun with a tilt of his head.

“You don’t. You just have to have a little faith in people, Gael,” the second agent responded, a smarmy smirk on his face. “But to be completely frank, you don’t really have a choice here.”

Gael felt rage burning in his chest. They both know who was holding all the cards; Gael’s only bargaining chip was himself.

There was a beat of silence where Gael stared down the English-speaking agent, he quirk an eyebrow at him but say nothing else. Sighing, Gael maked his choice; in the end, the decision was always an easy one. He’d give his life a thousand times over to protect these people every time.

—Déjenme ir. [Let me go.]

Slowly, the vice-like grips loosed as his travel companions quietly came to terms with the reality of the situation they had found themselves in. He briefly wondered if, years from now, they’d still remember the Guatemalan boy they lost in the desert. Or will he be one of many they’d lose as the U.S.’s ‘War on Drugs’ ravaged their country the way the coup ruined his.

As a hush overtook the trailer, Gael stepped forward and into the sun, his hands up in the air. When he reached the edge of the truck’s bed, he kneeled slightly before jumping off and walking away from the vehicle. Eyes on the rifle, he stopped and turned his body towards the agent and slowly stepped backwards a few feet to make sure his back not facing the open doors of the trailer.

The slightly shorter Asian man holding the gun shifted his grip on the Colt AR-15 slightly but said nothing. The man's large, dark eyes seemed... troubled, perhaps; his thick eyebrows bunched up, leaving a deep furrow at the center of his face. Gael pondered on that for a second.

“Good choice,” the English-speaking agent remarked, pulling Gael's attention away from the agent with the gun; Gael turned his head and made eye contact with the other man, perturbed to see something like fondness sparkling in those crow footed eyes.

‘How strange,’ Gael thought, watching the older man closely. His eyes regarded the other's features; the older man's deep set-heavy, lidded eyes, the contours of his jaw, the slant of his nose, and the shape of his eyebrows. 'Light-skin, but not a white man,' Gael thought and narrowed his eyes. Figures that the U.S. would send two of its citizens of color to hunt down a target who'd only been described as an unknown terrorist.

After a moment, the agent snorted, an amused tilt on his lips. Then, he beckoned Gael over with an upward facing palm; all fingers but his pointer and thumb tucked downward, a single gesticulating finger flicking up and down in quick succession. Gael felt a spark of irritation at that; the over familiarity of the gesture grating on his nerves.

Taking a calming breath, Gael turned his head towards the people in the truck, wanting to see them one last time, when the blood drained from his face and his heart sunk to the bottom of his stomach. There was a bearded man in a dark hoodie and a cap watching them from far in the distance; a lone sentinel on the mountain ridge at the edge of the desert.

The coyote had never left.

What kind of person could leave a truck full of people stranded in the desert, and sit back to watch as they perished? Gael’s stomach turned with disgust. For all the kindness in the world, there is also cold, unfeeling cruelty.

Though Gael couldn’t be one-hundred percent certain that the man in the mountains and the man who had driven them across the border were the same person, but who else could it possibly be? Who else would know they were here?

In any case, who ever it was seemed in no hurry to offer help, content to only witnessing what happened down in the valley. Without consciously thinking about it, Gael's body rotated on its axis, drawn to the man in the sierra like a magnet.

“What’s the hold up? Get. Moving,” the gun wielding agent scolded, finally speaking in English. Gael’s attention and head snapped back to a new, more immediate threat: the rifle now pressed against his back.

Licking his dry lips, Gael took the risk to sneak a final glance at the man in the mountains. Though, to his surprise, the man had disappeared in the seconds Gael had taken his eyes off of him. ‘Figures’, he thought grimly.

Refocusing his attention on the agents, Gael muttered a sharp, “Alright, let’s go.” before he raised his hands high in the air and languidly placed them on the top of his head.

The handcuffs never came.

‘These guys must be overly confident that the rifle is enough of a deterrent,’ Gael thought, irritated once more by the overconfidence of the Americans. Taking care to make no sudden movements, Gael swiveled back around to face the agents, hands up still on his head.

Then he paused and waited for further instructions. His eyes lowed slowly to evaluate the snippy agent’s hold on the firearm. Gael couldn't be certain, but he got the distinct impression that the older man didn't feel all that confident, even with a gun.

Playing out all possible scenarios in his head, Gael came to the conclusion that the chances that he could successfully wrestle the gun out of the agent's hands while fending off his partner were not zero. He was significantly younger than them. It probably wouldn't be that hard to out speed the both of them. He could definitely win the tussle and once he got his hands on the rifle, then it'd all be over—

“Don’t even think about it,” The smiley, bearded agent whispered directly into his ear. Gael jumped back, but an arm around his shoulders held him still. He hadn’t even noticed the agent move.

“We don’t actually want to hurt you, kid. This is all just a business proposition,” The man said, a bright smile stretched across his face. The most disturbing part was that the warmth in his eyes seemed genuine.

Fresh sweat collected at Gael’s temples, though the Arizona heat was not to blame this time. 'This dude's nuts,' he thought, mildly horrified.

Gael shifted his sight to the snippy agent, who just rolled his eyes and walked towards the unmarked cruiser parked ten feet away from the trailer. The other man then opened the backseat door and motioned for Gael to get in.

Gael set his jaw, but that option was better than the alternative than continuing to allow the bearded agent to practically snuggle him. Extracting himself from the older man's side, Gael moved in long strides to the vehicle before ducking his head to slid into the back seat. As he started to situate himself in the car, the smiley jerk pushed him and and cheerily said, “Scoot over, the other door doesn’t open.”

“You cannot be serious!” Gael hissed, his anger bubbling over the boiling point.

“Shut up,” The other jerk snapped back from the driver's seat. “We have a lot to go over on the drive.”

Gael glared daggers at the driver as thunder boomed somewhere over the mountain side. Rain soon overtook the valley, as the agent behind the wheel started the car and began to steer towards the N Ajo Sonoita Highway. The weirdo sitting beside Gael casually reached forward into the pocket on the back of the front passenger seat and pulled out a thick, worn manila folder.

“Alright,” he began, shooting Gael another toothy grin as he leafed thought the contents. “Where do we start?”

Roughly an hour later, Gael was staring out the window as rain continues to pelt the car. They were still a few hours away from Phoenix, he thought. In all honesty, his brain was completely fried. He didn’t understand half of what the 'Temporal Bureau' agents had explained to him during the ride. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. He was just struggling to wrap his mind around the implications that something like this could be true.

His soul ached at the thought that this was more than some bizarre, elaborate prank. If it was all real, he was just handed the opportunity of a lifetime. Of multiple lifetimes.

“A penny for your thoughts?” The smiley agent hummed. Gael didn’t want to look at Agent 'Whitman'. What a stupid name. That couldn't possibly be his real last name. Was it supposed to be funny? Or 'Stein', but unfortunately for Gael, Agent Stein caught his eyes in the rearview mirror at that very moment.

“You understand that you really don’t have a choice here, right?” The older man groused, those thick eyebrows furrowed deeply again.

Gael glared at Stein for a moment, but it only made him feel a child throwing a tantrum. It was almost as if he never stopped being that angry, little boy lost in El Quiché. Five and thrown into hell on Earth as war broke out; eight and an orphan; eleven and his remaining family wiped out like they were nothing; thirteen and struggling to scratch out an existence; sixteen and looking for any sort of answer that would give reason to the madness that was his life.

The futility of resistance in the absence of choice resonated deep in his bones, in the atoms that vibrated together to create his very existence. He knew it was pointless, but old habits died the hardest; and all he had ever done in his life was fight and rebel to the biter end.

But if what the 'Temporal Bureau' had told him was correct, his greatest battle was already lost. His entire's life's work all but a tiny glitch in the matrix that needed to be fixed, erased, eradicated; one way or another. This was just a new solution they were trying and in the end, the choice was never truly his.

He'd either fold or be destroyed a thousand times over until they got it right.

On one hand, this was a harrowing, universe shattering revelation that should have broken his mind and sent him into madness. But on the other, what was this if not the Holy Grail of life purposes? How many more trailers full of people could be saved if he joined? How many wars could he stop before they even started?

After another moment of quiet contemplation, Gael opened his mouth, the strained, hollow quality of his voice startling him, “Where do I sign?”

Beside him, 'Whitman' burst into laughter.

—¿Oye, pinche chucho, de qué te ríes? [Hey, fucking mutt, what are you laughing at?], Gael snarled.

“What I tell you, Stein? This kid’s got a good head on his shoulders.”

Hours later, at the Phoenix Sky Harbor International Airport, Gael Esai Tiul-Xol stared blankly at the massive throngs of people milling to and fro down the crowded halls. He was waiting for someone, though he did not know who. Agents Whitman and Stein had dropped him off roughly fifteen minutes ago and told him to wait at the second terminal for whoever it was that would pick him up.

A migraine pounded at his temples. He couldn't believe the agents had left him; after everything that had happened, after everything they had told him. He had half a mind to just get up and leave. It'd be easy to slip away, lost among the hoard of people. But a part of him wondered how many times he'd lived this event, and if the speech the 'Temporal Bureau' agents had given him was just a song and dance they'd gone through countless times.

Yawning loudly, Gael rubbed sleep out of his eyes, trying to remember the last thing Whitman had said to him before they let him out of the car. What had it been? 'You'll know they're here to pick you up the moment you see them?' What a fucking load of dog shit. Like he'd be able to pick out another pair of agents in this crowd, when the first two had just been some nondescript guys.

Lowering his fist away from his eyes, Gael beadily stared down the people filing through the entrance of the terminal. His eyes lingered on a messy head of ash brown hair, then trailed down to the neat dark locks of their companion. Gael froze in place, his eyes fluttered in disbelief. At a lost, he looked around the open space, but no one else seemed to notice how extraordinary this instant in time was.

On the other side of the room, Agent Whitman, a younger version of him, matched gazes with his. The other man then lifted an open file before elbowing his partner and pointing towards Gael.

Gael Esai Tiul-Xol felt his heart fly up towards the mood and his face broke out into an elated smile.

Time travel was real.

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for lottie behind the cut; a pocketful of Kons. ( chrono || non-chrono )

“Uh,” Tim says, staring at the Batcomputer’s main monitor and trying not to look freaked out. “Is that . . . ?” 

Stud scowls at the monitor and the picture of the man wearing a red cape and . . . most of Superman’s face displayed on it. 

Well. Some of Superman’s face, anyway. 

“No one knows who he is,” Bruce says. “He appeared three hours ago in Metropolis claiming to be Superman.” 

“The costume doesn’t match,” Dick says, glancing at Stud. “And, you know, the cyborg parts definitely don’t match.” 

“Pockets reflect the self-image of their owners,” Bruce reminds him neutrally. “Assistive devices and prosthetics don’t always translate. Especially newer ones.” 

Red looks unimpressed. Dick grimaces a little. 

“I mean, if he is Superman, they would be pretty recent . . .” he says, then trails off with another grimace. 

“I guess,” Tim says, trying not to grimace himself. “But he doesn’t have Laney, does he?” 

“Or a Robin,” Dick puts in. 

“We don’t know when he last slept or if he might be concealing a Pocket somewhere,” Bruce says, looking back to the screen. “And either way, more minor incidents than being beaten to death have damaged Pockets’ connections to their origin points and soulmates.” 

Tim really, really hopes Stud came from Supergirl. Even if she accidentally dated Lex Luthor for a while or whatever. That is just way, way preferable a thing to deal with right now. He doesn’t know who this cyborg version of Superman is, but the guy gives him the creeps. Like–just something about him looks wrong. 

Maybe he’s just being an asshole with unconscious biases and it’s all the prosthetics and machinery throwing him off, he half-hopes. It might just be that. He could get over that. Adjust. Work on himself a little and figure it out. 

He’s never felt unsettled like this looking at Cyborg, though, and he’s seen him plenty of times. He and Dick work together all the time. 

So it’s kind of hard to blame the prosthetics and machinery, considering. 

“Okay, fair,” Dick allows, wincing a little. “You really think he could hide a Pocket, though? It’s not like you can get that far from them.” 

“He has at least two limbs that are fully or almost fully prosthetic and half his torso and head are metal, and we have no idea what’s actually contained in any of those parts,” Tim points out, scanning the accompanying footage on the opposite side of the screen of the man in action. “He could hide a Pocket in a compartment built into his body no problem. Especially, uh–a smaller one.” 

Superman never hid Laney before, just dressed her up in a simple little costume of her own, but if this is Superman . . . well, dying can change a lot of things. 

But if Lois Lane hasn’t reported Smallville returning to the Justice League . . . 

Then again, they don’t know when she last slept either. Pockets only turn up when their owners sleep, one way or the other, and all of human history hasn’t managed to catch one appearing. Cameras short out or blip or just don’t record anything, witnesses get distracted or drift off, and nothing ever gets figured out. 

And a Pocket his size would be . . . well. Not that hard to conceal, probably. 

Tim can’t imagine a Pocket of himself wouldn’t understand that request, if whoever this is or isn’t made it of him. He’s very intimately familiar with the need for secrets. 

If this is his soulmate, though . . . 

He really doesn’t know what to think of that idea. 

“Two-day go-bags,” Bruce orders shortly, never taking his eyes off the footage on the screen. “Reconvene in twenty.” 

Tim glances at Dick; Dick glances back at him. 

“On it,” they both say, and take off. 

Neither bothers asking where they’re going. 

Stud flies after Tim, grumbling to himself in Pocket-talk, but Tim knows as much about what he’s saying as he does about where they’re all about to end up. 

.

.

.

Cassie stares down at her phone in confusion, and Cas peers at the screen from his seat on her shoulder. There’s a jerky, erratically-filmed livestream playing on it on her Twitter feed, and that’s . . . Superman? 

There’s footage of Superman on Twitter, she means. Live footage. He looks a little different–there’s black in his costume, and his hair is short and slicked back, and he’s wearing a visor–but he’s definitely Superman, big red cape and all. 

At least–she thinks he is. 

His face is kind of . . . 

There’s something . . . empty in his face. 

Cassie resists the weird urge to hide Cas from the sight of him, because–well, that’s him, isn’t it? That’s who he came from. The costume doesn’t exactly match, but it’s got black in it too, and they’ve both got the S-shield and cape. And . . . 

Well. It has to be him, doesn’t it? 

Who else could it be? 

The comments are all losing their minds about the footage, and Cassie feels uneasy watching it. The look on Superman’s face is just . . . it’s just really . . . 

She knew Superman was coming back, obviously. She’s got Cas, after all, so it’s not like it’s a surprise to see him. The only surprising thing is that Cas showed up before he did. 

So she doesn’t know why she feels . . . off, kind of, seeing Superman alive and well. She’d expect to be nervous or anxious, maybe, but not . . . 

She’s unsettled, she thinks. It’s–unsettled. 

Yeah. 

That’s . . . weird. 

Superman darts out of the camera’s view in a blur of speed, and Cassie hears something explode in the distance. Whoever’s recording shrieks, and so do a few people around them. 

Cas leans further over her shoulder with a frown. 

“Cassie?” a voice calls from downstairs, and Cassie instinctively bristles and tightens her grip on her phone. It’s her mom. “Diana’s back!” 

. . . fine. That’s–whatever. 

Fine.

[sgiandubh]

Hi!

Fitness Anon here…

The brand new photos of S’s pap walk in Soho today remind me of something I wanted to share with you about AM (now AD): Her husband plays football in Germany. About ten day ago there were reports in the yellow press about the get together of thee Munich players and their families as the Bundesliga sesason had ended.

AM was mentioned there with her baby. It was stated that she had previous relationships with other sport stars. None of these news mentioned her being linked to S.

https://www.bild.de/sport/fussball/fc-bayern-kennen-sie-die-alle-schon-das-sind-bayerns-neue-spielerfrauen-664c48952c12487f81715baf

Dear (returning) Fitness Anon,

I will translate the relevant part of that article. It's funny how S didn't make the Bild editor's cut, eh?

He should really stop wasting money on such #silly BS. Nobody - I repeat: NO-EFFIN'- BODY - gives a flying fuck anymore.

Ok, perhaps Data Lounge does give a (static) fuck, but this is what they do for just about everybody in showbiz. S's personal brand has seemingly gone from magic to trash. Let us hope it won't turn into a cautionary tale of sorts.

But onwards to Bild's article: 'Do you know all of them? These are the wives of the new players of the Bayern Munich'

[Photo legend: 'the Bayern star player Eric Dier with his model girlfriend Anna at the secret end-of-season party at the Käfer']

'Are you familiar with all these ladies?

Last Sunday [note: May 19th], FC Bayern organized a secret end-of-season party at Munich's upscale Käfer restaurant - despite the 2:4 defeat in Hoffenheim, the drop to third place in the Bundesliga and the first season without a title since 2012, the mood among the majority of guests was good.

It was a true family brunch! Featuring some lesser known faces... (....)'

Anna Dier: It was love at first sight for Eric Dier (30) and the South African model. After they became a couple in 2022, they got engaged in November of the same year and married in July 2023.

Shortly after, they announced on Instagram that they were expecting their first child. The baby was born at the end of January [2024]. The defender player shows loving care for the baby, as seen on the return flight from Madrid, after the 1-2 defeat in the match opposing the Real. Anna and the little one went there to support him!

Before meeting Eric Dier, Anna was in a relationship with Alexis Sanchez (35). The Chilean record international player formerly was active at Arsenal FC, Manchester United, Inter Milan and Olympique Marseille, among others.'

But... but...

Vielen Dank, dear Fitness Anon. Between three Tumblr trolls and Das Bild, I choose to believe Germany's best-selling daily newspaper, that's been around since 1952.

[bengiyo]

Cherry Magic TH Ep 12 (Finale) Stray Thoughts

Last week, Achi went to a different city to help set up a new office. There, he had to work on his social skills to bond with the new staff, and succeeded through the power of his good nature and soccer. Karan and Achi stayed in touch the entire time they were separated, and Karan visited twice. Achi hesitated about coming out, but was rewarded when the new team was completely supportive and only asked about his partner so they knew who to contact. Meanwhile, Jinta talked Min into not giving up on an audition, and Min said he loved Jinta. We left on Achi losing his powers in a very satisfying bed scene and afterglow.

Achi really lucked out with Karan.

I'm so proud of Achi for managing to complete this project and earn the confidence of this team.

Ah yes, a finale. It's time to meet the parents.

Boss, don't remind me of the no dating rule.

Pai is such a supportive friend.

NOT THE BALLOONS SOUNDING LIKE GUNSHOTS

Damn, Mom, why you gotta dunk on your own son??

It's fine, she's definitely cool with it. She already put them to work and doled out advice.

I love Karan so much. This man recorded Achi expressing love in the Northern dialect, and Achi agreed so he wouldn't have to say it often.

It couldn't all be cherries on tablecloths. Looks like Karan is maintaining continuity with his Japanese counterpart's family.

Achi's mom hugging Karan is something that can be so personal.

I will never get over Jinta wearing sunglasses over his glasses.

Yes, let's model good fan behavior with the artist. They only jumped because they thought Jinta was trying to kidnap Min and then calmed down. They're even fans of Jinta's book!

Absolutely love that Karan is not withholding his feelings from Achi about how his mom might be homophobic.

AN 8 HOUR DRIVE? Are we going to Dallas???

Give that man his reward, Achi!

Welp, I knew it was too simple with Karan's mom. She very smoothly shoved them into a closet.

I'm glad it's the sister having this conversation with the mom.

She said her piece and counted to three!!!

Karan being a little brother makes so much sense every time.

Look at Tay Tawan acting. I know the mom and dad turning around so quickly is a bit unrealistic, but I like the aspirational nature of it. It could be this easy if we tried hard enough for each other.

Of course he proposed. I love this man.

You know he's had that ring ready for a while!

COME THROUGH, ACHI!! MUTUAL GAY PROPOSAL!!!

Wow, that was everything I hoped for and more out of the family stuff.

Whoa, did Jinta reveal he popped that cherry?

Oh, it's also the symbol for Min's group.

Aww, Rock has a fan!!

Pai is definitely shipping Rock and the fan.

Save the date!!

Well well well, Cherry Magic Thailand. Good job being explicit about marriage equality.

Okay, I like the reference to the pens.

I'm okay with Rock and Pai getting to date.

These two are very good at the aesthetics of an onscreen kiss.

Final Verdict: 9.5, This is Now My Default Version. I did not expect to come out on the other end of this liking the Thai version more than the Japanese live action, but here we are. Minus episode 8 (which I will pretend doesn't exist), this was perfect execution of the core premise and strong regard for the character dynamics. This show earned every moment, and managed to deliver a satisfying finale for the whole cast. It's been a long week of finales, and I like how good so many were. TayNew getting back together was not something I expected, and I'm so thrilled that they delivered such a strong outing. What a time to be a Cherry Magic fan. I'm excited to keep reporting on the anime and then talk about all three shows.

[silverorchideon]

"Hello! Supervisor Grian here to remind you, Scar and Skizz, that the information given to you two is strictly confidential. I, along with the other higher-ups, are happy with the accuracy of your responses nonetheless, and we wish to see you continue this behaviour. We are always watching and listening, have a good day."

Creating AU's at a record pace currently-

Anyways, I saw the permit office and watched a playthrough of Home Safety Hotline and decided to draw this little thing.

Basically, Grian replaces Supervisor Carol and Scar and Skizz replaces the main character. Pearl, Jimmy, and Martyn work as "higher-ups" in this company and deal with the pests and hazards when reported. They themselves are very subliminal when they appear, though otherwise, remain in their typical human appearance to protect their identities.

They can turn people into Endermites, instead of mice!

Also, the hotline is available on many a server, though most of the callers are from HC/EMP because most came to HC for a reason, and it spilled over in Season 9. Some life series members not in either server may also be affected.

Surprisingly not a permadeath au, and the more deadly creatures (false artifact, sprig trees, etc) either cause the affected to be in a death loop, only broken by a Watcher/Listener (oh hey, guess who does that), affects the next respawn permanently (false beet, fae flu, etc.), or, when broken out and saved, causes either amnesia or high confusion, possibly permanently (neighbour's doorways, portals, etc.)

Also, if you guys want to create some calls for any MCYTer (preferably from Hermitcraft and Empires), do respond with them please!!! The link to all of the entries are here, but please be cautious if you are sensitive to insects, spiders, eyes/being watched, tight spaces, dogs, or general scary imagery.

I only have a Dream Weaver for BDubs, Wood Secretions for Doc, and possibly either Tea Sprites/Fae Flu for X and maybe unicorn fungi for Ren, so be free and have fun with this, if you'd like.

Oh, yeah! And the logo for it!

[taximaximus]

Safe Haven Headcanons

Ft. Mostly Newt, some Thomas and Minho

TW: panic attacks, nausea, blood (all mentioned/never in depth)

(I'm sorry if any are similar to other posts!!)

- I imagine that all the Maze people (Gladers and group B) had amazing immune systems because they've been living/traveling in unsafe and dirty conditions for a hell of a long time, ie they built a tolerance. But after getting the Flare, Newt's is weakened for years. He gets sick more than most

- Which sucks bc sickness makes him nervous. Constantly checking his skin and arms, feeling the need to throw up even if he's not actually nauseous, and panic attacks at worst

- He tries to isolate himself because he knows how any illness sets Thomas on edge (and everyone else to some extent but not as much as Thomas). But Thomas will be damned if he ever leaves Newt's side until he's better

- In any cases of Newt being extremely ill, Thomas will offer his blood as "medicine" (because that's how he cured Newt of the Flare, why shouldn't it work with anything else?)

- Newt's limp is more likely to act up when sick since his immune system is focused on, yknow, combating the actual sickness

- In recovery, Newt spends a lot of time by the sea. He finds the little things comforting (fresh air, salty spray on his skin, occasional sea creatures, rhythmic waves) and it all reassures him that he's alive

- Thomas often joins him. Newt sits on the beach while Thomas looks for seashells and brings back any he finds. They continue this even after Newt recovers, basically becoming a weekly thing

- Newt, Thomas, and Minho fall quickly into the subconscious habit of checking each other's pulses. Thomas, to make sure his friends are staying with him. Newt, to make sure he's alive. Minho, to make sure everything's real

- In general, the ivy trio engages in more casual touches for the same reasons as above. But the one who does it the most is Newt (with Thomas)

- Thomas and Newt need to sleep by each other. They realized this quickly when Thomas was finally allowed to leave the medical tent after his gunshot wound healed and he immediately had a panic attack once night set in

- Minho sleeps close by before they all get their own houses/living areas. Always closer to the entrance, so if anything bad happens, he's the first to bear the damage in hopes Thomas and Newt can get away

- Minho gets into whittling. At first just to provide everyone with weapons, then because he actually enjoys it because it's something other than running that keeps him busy

- He eventually whittles Newt a cane and Thomas a holder for the pendant he got from Chuck

- Newt writes. A lot. Journals his thoughts, writes reminders for everyone (mainly Thomas), records plans and any important events in the Safe Haven

- Thomas and Minho go on early morning runs around the beach. Sometimes they invite Newt, and they slow down to the blonde's pace

- Thomas and Minho also explore the Safe Haven. They're the first to report any animals, unsafe areas, new food, more wood or vines. Basically Runners 2.0 except this time it's more voluntary

- Newt stays near the Safe Haven as much as possible and works on the gardens. When he gets his own place with Thomas, he creates one of his own (and bans Thomas from ever touching it)

- Despite his gardening skills, Newt is not a good cook. Awful actually. Thomas is more likely to make something edible

I'll cut it off there but I'll eventually post more bc I need to get these all out of my head

[gothamnewsnetwork-official]

Alfred Pennyworth - Not Quite Human?

In Gotham City the name ‘Wayne’ holds a certain weight, akin to modern royalty; the Wayne family are the end-all-be-all of Gotham. And with that power comes a level of fame, not just for them but for their associates.

With fame comes rumours and delusions, such as the belief of many Gothamites that Bruce Wayne’s ( @officialbruciewayne ) (see related articles) second eldest son, Jason Todd-Harper ( @jason-peter-todd-harper ) (see related articles), is dead.

This is not, however, what we will be dissecting and discussing today. Rather, we will be turning our eyes to another member of the Wayne’s extended family (see related articles), Alfred Pennyworth ( @alfiethaddeuscranepennyworth ) (see related posts); the Wayne Family’s butler.

It was brought to our attention by an anonymous source earlier this evening that Mr. Pennyworth may not be as entirely the kind grandfather figure that we know him to be. Our source had recently gained access to the private files of Martha and Thomas Wayne (see related articles) when they started noticing certain discrepancies in Mr. Pennyworth’s employment files.

These discrepancies included, though are not limited to, his age, physical description, background, and family, each varying considerably depending on which documents you are looking at. It’s a wonder how any of these went unflagged by the IRS (see related articles) when the Wayne’s were filing their employment rebates (see related articles).

On top of this, we have been able to find multiple interviews with the late Wayne’s in which they speak of Mr. Pennyworth, who they were quite close with despite being his employers, and refer to him as being ‘willowy’ with auburn hair, a distinctive south whale’s accent, and a scar along his jaw. Later on, once the current Mr. Wayne was born (see related articles), articles begin to refer to him as being more portly with close-cropped black hair and a London accent.

Now, as we are all aware, body types change with age and circumstance, as at this time Mr. Pennyworth would have finally retired from his position as an MI6 (see related articles), and hair can be died on a whim. What is not so easy to change is one’s accent and one’s skin. Mr. Pennyworth has little reason to fake an accent, and there is no evidence of him covering any scars.

On top of this, Mr. Pennyworth has not seemed to age a day in nearly 3 decades. While this could in part be due to the runoff of the many Lazarus Pits (see related articles) under Gotham City in the Gotham Water Supply (see related articles), it could not have had this much of an effect on Mr. Pennyworth’s body without him directly bathing in it.

On top of this, it is unclear his exact age in any approximation, as some of his employment records date his birth to be as far back as 1923, with others placing it as recently as 1960. When questioned, other former members of the Wayne house staff stated that they simply ‘had never thought to ask’ or ‘couldn’t remember’.

When asked about his appearance the oldest members of the staff would state that he ‘reminded them a bit of Indiana Jones, nothing like a butler’, lining up with the late Wayne’s testimonies, whereas newer members of the staff would say he looks as he does now. There seems to be no period of shift between answers, all falling into the former or latter categories, something this journalist finds to be quite remarkable given the extreme shift.

There are two leading theories on this, and they are as follows -

Either Alfred Pennyworth is a human made immortal (see related articles) by some unknown force, or he is one of the 12 eldritch constructs (see related articles) of Gotham City.

While it is near impossible to prove either, we would simply like to inform the public of these theories as it may pit a rather tragic spin on the relationship between Mr. Pennyworth and the Waynes.

Let us know your thoughts on the topic (here)

Gotham Reports is certified in unbiased, fair, and reliable reporting

See the posts that inspired this (here)

[quitealotofsodapop]

Pffft Baije's reaction

This whole time, he's had the image of some Savage monster, a party animal who causes problems on purpose, and it turns out Wukong was just a huge nerd! He'd thought that even if he had to go on their stupid journey with a savage monster, at least Wukong knows how to party! Baije wants his money back.

Tripitaka, meanwhile, is both confused and kind of fascinated. He hadn't known much about his most troubled student, not even why he had chosen to return after he initially escaped (turned out it was to briefly visit home and make sure Luzhen was OK, and then let him know that he was going on the journey. Wukong made a promise and he keeps his promises) so he can't help but be curious about Wukong's previously unknown siblings.

The only one to suspect it was Ao Lie, actually. Not because of his fancy nose or anything... he's just got a bunch of siblings himself, so he knows how to recognize the signs. That and it had been Luzhen and Wukong both who actually went to get Ringu Jingu Bang. Luzhen had been the one to break all the weapons, claiming they aren't suitable for his brother and then demand a proper kingly outfit for him that isnt just leaves, while Wukong had been with Ao Guang's wife and been the one Ringu Jingu Bang had called for. The reports had just gotten mixed up and made it seem like there was only one monkey. Ao Guang villager goes on record after the misunderstanding is cleared up, to say that while he doesn't really like either, he much prefers dealing with the elder twin. That younger sibling is just too wolds for his tastes. Wukong is also the one to want to go to Sinodhi's school, the but nerd.

I love the idea that the immortality pill incident was just an accident, and Wukong had thought they were painkillers. The show made it seem like they were only three to begin with, and I would be lying. I'd j never take three pills when I had the worst of my migraines, so it's reasonable to think Wukong may have done so on accident. Lao Tzu honestly has no leg to stand on when it comes to being angry since he never labeled them, left then out in the open, and hadn't bothered to let anyone know he wasn't going to be in. Wukong had taken one look around, saw Lao Tzu wasn't in, and thought that he could use his own alchemy training to properly dose himself without realizing the pills he took were NOT ibuprofen after he immediately noticed the facts.

Prev.

+from @booksfromthestars

Bajie is disbelieving and disappointed all at once. He thought he was going to be travelling with a party-animal, not a lightweight who'd rather read medical books and paint!

Tripitaka is an only child, so he doesn't really understand the habits one forms when you grow up with another person occupying your personal space. Things he considers selfish on the surface turn out to just to be a habit from living where your sibling is liable to steal the peach you were just eating. He is pleasantly surprised by Wukong keeping his promise and returning to resume the Journey after checking in on his little brother - Triptaka had assumed he was lying, and was too slow to warn Wukong not to put his hat back on. Wukong is *furious* when he feels something magical tighten around his skull. Tripitaka is still super guilty about that one.

Guanyin doesn't regret the circlet one bit - it's mostly an insurance for Luzhen rather than Wukong to behave himself.

Ao Lie is the younger of three brothers + a sister, so he can identify a fellow sibling from a mile away. The way Wukong protects his favourite foods when sitting with others, but also goes out of his way to pick up at least one piece of the others' faves while he's foraging. That's a sibling habit built upon mutual sharing and theft of each other's food (source; sibling). He also notices how Wukong acts around children they encounter, and it reminds him so much of his big brothers.

I love the imagery of Ao Guang's palace being broken into by two whole little monkeys. XD Well technically Luzhen broke in, Wukong politely asked at the door if the Dragon King or Queen could spare a weapon so that they could defend their people. Wukong's calmer/more respectful attitude endears him to Ao Guang and the Queen, though Luzhen still does bully the other dragons into giving his big bro full battle armour. The dragons accommodate these demands from a mix of fear (Wukong is a strong little monkey and his brother is unhinged) and amusement - they're all brothers too, and think it's sweet that Luzhen only wants the Best for his big bro. Guang wouldn't invite Luzhen into his house again though XD

Wukong is the brother who went to college while Luzhen stayed home. XD

Wukong took two pills thinking that they were painkillers, only to realise when he sobered up Immediately what they truly were. The third pill he pocketed and gave to Luzhen since whatever was about to happen, he didn't want his brother to not have a layer of immortality to him. Lao Tzu was still pissed, but to be fair he canonically doesn't label his stuff good (both in Jttw and LMK), and the "Makes You Immortal/Invulnerable Pills" look an *awful* lot like his patented Hangover cure so popular with the celestial soldiers.

Wukong took the full blame for the Havoc, no matter how much Luzhen tried to plead that it was mostly his doing - but the celestial host had assumed that Luzhen had been the one trying to cover for his older brother/was just a clever clone.

Luzhen screamed as his brother was dragged to the Furnace and the flames from the crucible fell upon their Island. He didn't have time to try and save him or the rest of the Brotherhood while their kingdom was burning to ashes - he had to protect their people.

Macaque never blamed Luzhen for his choice, the younger monkey was suffering enough knowing that his older brother was hurting. But Luzhen certainly roared in Macaque's face when him and Wukong had their fight under the Mountain. Depending on how things go, Macaque might take Luzhen's words to heart and return to Wukong's arms to apologize. Whether or not Wukong will be as forgiving is to be seen.