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sylusjinwoon · 1 year ago

Text

{ 165 }

reader inserts.

jinwoo sung x fem.reader

warnings: pure crack and fluff 🥰

anonymous said: Ever just thought about Jinwoo finding reader reading an Jinwoo x reader fic? Cuz like he's a famous hunter, got good looks, and all so there's bound to be fanfics in solo leveling and then she's trynna exit the tab/app she was reading it on cuz she got caught😆

|| out of time, feat. s. jinwoo

- now i can't keep you from loving her, you made up your mind. -

rain was falling from the sky, painting your world in melancholic hues. as you allowed your forlorn gaze to look out the window from your bedroom was when you heard the familiar chime coming from your phone.

and it was at this moment that you received a text from your boyfriend, telling you to come meet him at the usual café you both tended to frequent at.

you didn’t think about how it was strange that jinwoo didn’t tell you he had finished his mission and came back home to your shared apartment-

you didn’t even think about how it had been literal weeks since you had last heard his voice-

for upon seeing his text for the first time in what seemed like months, all you could feel was a sense of relief and joy.

so your heart began to pound with anticipation, feeling the pinpricks of happiness start to fill your veins as you prepared yourself to meet him-

however, you couldn’t deny the undertones of anxiety you felt at the same time.

after all, this was the first time you had heard from your boyfriend in three months. sure, you saw him on the news that detailed all the raids he had taken part in. the invasion began several months ago, with numerous gates surrounding the city of seoul, and he, along with all the other s-ranked hunters, had been called to action.

but there was just one tiny problem-

hunter cha hae-in was also part of that roster, and that made you feel all the more scared and anxious.

during the three months that jinwoo spent away from you, hunter cha had always been close by-

acting almost like his second shadow as they raided each gate. and each time the news and paparazzi would catch a glimpse of them exiting the gate together, you swore that your eyes could see them holding hands.

throughout his 90 day absence, you convinced yourself that he was simply being courteous with hae-in; that they were just hunters working towards a similar goal-

nothing more, and nothing less.

yet when his nightly calls and daily texts seemed to steadily dwindle down with each passing day, you knew deep down in your heart that something was amiss. your heart no longer felt the warmth of jinwoo’s presence, and each time you looked down at your shadow to see not a single, glowing eye peering back at you-

you knew that deep down, jinwoo’s love had gone stale for you.

your mind rationalizes that it was over before it even began-

but your heart still held on to hope.

which was why you were left running out into the rain, making your way towards the café jinwoo had mentioned. you had hoped that this was a means of jinwoo begging you for forgiveness; for unintentionally ignoring you during those arduous three months he had left you to deal with the various gates-

that he still loved and needed you despite what all the rumors had said pertaining to cha hae-in and him.

yet the moment you entered the coffee shop and had already seen jinwoo settled at your usual table, you felt your heart stop at the mere sight of him.

he was dressed in his usual turtleneck and dark jeans, grey eyes seeming to look down with amusement as he kept texting someone on his phone all while smiling at the screen.

while he was texting, you became achingly aware of how not a single notification was heard coming from your phone-

which had to be more than enough proof that he was speaking to someone else, for the only text you had received from him was the one asking you to come and meet him.

don’t be stupid; you’re just feeling anxious than usual. just… just go up and talk to him already!

so you harden your resolve and take a step forward. jinwoo, sensing you and seeing you from his periphery, quickly pocketed his phone while giving you a wry smile-

a smile that didn’t seem to reach his eyes like it normally would upon seeing you. he greets you by calling out your surname, and he didn’t seem to catch his mistake-

but you did.

even when he stood up to hug you, his embrace was awkward and stiff; his arm felt like deadweight to you as it remained utterly devoid of any warmth. he couldn’t even try to maintain such an embrace, already gently shoving you aside while gesturing for you to sit across from him.

you give him an almost robotic nod, taking a seat across from him as an awkward expression paints jinwoo’s handsome features. even now, when you were certain that your relationship with the hunter was on the cusp of destruction, you still found him to be utterly beautiful to you-

“listen, there’s no easy way to tell you this, but first and foremost, i have to admit that this isn’t your fault. that people fall out of love all the time…”

his admission truly was like a knife to your heart, twisting it painfully within your chest as you struggled to even breathe.

“you’re a lovely woman, and you’ve given me the best three years of my life-“

“but i’m not her, is that what you’re trying to hint at?” you quickly cut him off, a sob escaping from your parted lips, betraying your true emotions at this very moment.

yet you refused to let the way the guilt twist his features sway the absolute hurt and devastation you felt.

“how could you do this to me? especially when knowing how… how inferior i felt to her! a-and now, you just confirmed each and every one of my fears!”

“i had loved you when you had nothing; when you were nothing- and this is how you repay me? by throwing me away while running into HER ARMS?! you are the worst, sung jinwoo, and i hate you so much!”

you stand from your seat, eyes filling with tears as it made it difficult to see jinwoo’s expression. not even giving him a chance to speak, you ran out into the storm, hearing the rumbling of thunder as the saltiness of your tears were mixed in with the needle-like rain.

as you felt the rain seep into the fabric of your clothes, your heart feeling like it was being ripped apart from the confines of your chest-

deep down, you wished that jinwoo would come out in the rain and comfort you, seeing your pain while realizing that you were the woman that loved him all along as he brought you within his embrace, apologizing to you and telling you how much he didn’t mean it-

but as you continued to stay beneath the downpour, with not a single ounce of warmth surrounding you, you knew that sung jinwoo had already made his choice when he left you out here in the cold and unforgiving rain.

your relationship with him had run out of time after all…

{ … }

the gasps felt coming from your parted lips came from the genuine tears that streamed down your face as you read your favorite author’s latest work, feeling as though your heart was being ripped into two.

the pain was so fresh, so potent that you liked / sent kudos to the story all while commenting on this wonderfully written masterpiece. while exploring tumblr / ao3, you had found yourself in the mood for angst, one that spoke of unrequited love as jinwoo fell out of love with you-

yet perhaps this story seemed to serve your craving a little too well.

after you sent your comment, you nearly dropped your phone when jinwoo himself bursts out of the kitchen with a look of concern in his eyes. “sarang, what happened? i was going to call you, letting you know that dinner was ready, when i heard you crying.”

mortification was felt coursing through your very veins as you tried to hide the app / website away from him. in your panicked state, you kept sputtering out excuses, trying to hide your phone-

only to end up dropping your device on the ground. before you could even stop jinwoo from taking your phone, he already held the slender device within his hand, grey eyes scanning through the contents of the story you had just finished reading.

“unrequited love; jinwoo x reader; jinwoo x hae-in; angst no comfort- sarang, no way…! you’re into this silly stuff!?”

you could feel the heat dye against your cheeks when you weakly reached out to him, trying to take away your phone from him. you swore, you felt like dying when he kept looking at your phone, actually reading each passage of the insert out loud.

“…your relationship with him had run out of time after all…”

only when he finishes reading did he finally relent, allowing you to take back your phone. with you distracted, jinwoo wraps his arms around your front, earning a light squeak from you as he takes a seat on the couch while placing you in his lap.

a teasing smile paints his stupidly handsome features, and he was drawing comforting circles behind your back while calling out to you, “sarang…?”

you could feel his nose now tracing at your hair, inhaling your scent, but you were too embarrassed to say anything to him. instead, you stubbornly looked away from him, allowing the heat to travel across your cheeks as your skin continued to burn in response for getting caught in the midst of your guilty pleasures.

“why did you wish to agonize and torture yourself like this when you know that this will never happen? that i will always love you, no matter what.” he asks you, but this time while placing a hand beneath your chin. his grey eyes were sparkling with amusement for you, yet still, he comforted you, running his hands through your hair as he waited for your response.

all you could manage was a weak shrug, “uhm… it’s hard to explain b-but, i actually like reading all these inserts that you have. so many fans respect and adore you so much that they spend time writing about you.”

he rolls his eyes while gently poking at your cheek. “and truly, i don’t mind such fan content, since it’s purely fiction- however…”

jinwoo grips at your chin in an even tighter manner just then, “it’s a problem when it manages to upset you.”

“ah, no really, don’t get mad! it’s just the fans’ way of venting and coping, knowing that they cannot date you, so instead of being a crazed and stalking you, they simply write out their daydreams. it’s harmless fun, and r-really i was searching for something angsty to read!”

you defended all the fan fiction writers that existed, knowing that even cha hae-in and choi jong-in had their own fanfictions and inserts as well. now that you were out of the miserable world the story had painted and was currently settled within jinwoo’s warm embrace, admittedly, you felt better.

jinwoo sighs, letting out a groan of your name while brushing his nose against yours, “in that case, how about i make up a story right now to help you feel better?”

he sits back on the couch, bringing you even closer to his chest as you let out the sounds of light giggles. smirking at your laughter, he lets out a hum before beginning his own story.

“once upon a time, the man known as the weakest hunter fell in love with a girl that was pretty much his best friend…”

(“silly woowoo, inserts don’t start out like a fairytale!”)

(“hush, it’s our fairytale.”)

jinwoo clears his throat before continuing, “so this girl was pretty much the love of his life, bringing him absolute joy whenever she was around. he thought he could never change, become better for her, but thanks to a series of circumstances and the way he kept on wishing on falling stars for his dream to come true-

it worked.

no longer was he a man that could not protect the woman he loved. now, he was able to face his own personal trials and tribulations while always keeping the girl in the forefront of his mind. he no longer felt helpless and insecure when standing by her side… he became the man he knew she always wanted and needed…

and now, when the hunter found out how silly his lover was being, reading stories about him instead of realizing that the real deal was better than some fake daydream, he couldn’t help but laugh and tease her!”

he finishes his story with a rich chuckle, making your pout deepen as you began hitting at his chest with your hands folded in a fist, “jinwoooo, stooooppp! you’re just making fun of me now!”

instead of replying to you with words, jinwoo leans in closer to you, pressing a kiss against your pouty lips while still chuckling. “sorry, sarang, you’re just so cute that i couldn’t help but tease you a little.”

basking in your sputtering words, he casually picks you up, taking you into the dining room as he had every intention of spoiling you tonight. first with some of his delicious dinner, then later, with the proof of his pure love and devotion he had for you and you alone…

a.n. - lmaooo reader is the equivalent of “you cheated on me in my dreams, and now i’m mad at you 😡” 😂😂😂😂 this was so much fun to write, and yes, i made up that “angsty insert” at the start.

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

#sung jinwoo x reader #jinwoo sung x reader #sung jinwoo x you #jinwoo sung x you #solo leveling x reader #.stories

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twst-drabbles · 5 months ago

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Grim 6

Summary: You finally caught the little creature that's been lurking around your house. He did not come calmly, that's for sure. But, all it took was a can of tuna for things to quickly turn around.

(More kitten grim but in the house pet au, because it's pretty suiting.)

When you initially spotted this little cat-like creature, you didn't really do anything about him. You saw him, he saw you, and you just left him alone because you had assumed this cat-beast was part of some kind of bigger colony. Or perhaps a traveling one. Either way, you weren't under the impression he was some kind of domestic magical creature that you can just randomly take in.

But, of course, that was back when this blue fire creature was on the fat and plump side. But then you spotted him one day, laying down at the foot of a charred tree, fur missing in places and the bones of his spine barely poking through the skin. The fire that always billowed out of his ears? It was barely stronger than a candle's light. You don't know what happened, all you can assume was that he probably lost his food source.

So, you quickly grabbed him by the scruff and he woke up with very high-pitch, very distressing yowl. His mouth opened wide, swiping his claws about to try and both scratch and bite you. Horrible decision on your part, but you didn't have any traps, and you don't know anyone that could come quickly enough before he woke up and moved again.

Luckily, just by the feel of his skin, he didn't need to be rushed to any emergency vets.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," you walked as quickly as you could, thankful that your house was nearby, "It'll be fine, I promise."

You rushed through the gate, ignored the stunned looks of Ace and Deuce, and went to the room you had dubbed "the quarantine room."

You planted the cat's fighting self on the floor, and immediately dashed under the wardrobe. All you could see now was a pair of glowing, glaring blue eyes, ears pressed so tightly against his head it hide his flames.

"You can't even spew flames at me, huh?" Not a single lick of it. "Hold on a moment."

You carefully exited the room and swiped a can of tuna from the kitchen. After speaking with Crowley in the backyard and getting a small bottle of blot, you went back to the room. This creature has not moved, still warily watching you for anymore acts of betrayal.

Then, you pried open the can. The minute the metal tab cracked the lid, the cat's pupils went wide, and his little nose poked right out from beneath the wardrobe.

"Time to blow your little mind," and you uncorked the bottle of blot and poured it over the tuna can. Smelled horrible, like burnt fish oil. The cat rushed out, but stopped awkwardly in the middle of the floor when he probably realized what he was doing. Claws dug into the floor, head stupidly big on his tiny body as his fur stood on end as if you were the one that forced his legs. "You ain't the smartest huh? Here."

You put the can down and slid it to him with a light kick. Before the can could fully stop before the puffed up cat, he pounced onto the can and buried his face in it. His too-big ears moved and twitched with every ravenous bite, whole body trembling as you heard that classic, angry myan myan myan noises as he ate.

You crouched down just to watch. Briefly, the kitten looked up, face smeared in bits of tuna and inky blot, hugged the can closer and went back to eating.

Well, you guess it's about time you had another addition to the house.

"Not even gonna share huh? How rude." You got back up and dusted off your clothes. "You're staying here for now, at least until you get too big for this house. Let me go get you some water."

But, you'll have to be a little careful, you can see two little shadows right under the door, probably trying to peek in. You can see a little glimpses of little tulips and lilies. Certainly wouldn't want to agitate this blot eating cat more than you already have.

#twst #twisted wonderland #drabble #twst-drabbles #twst-drabbles exclusive #ramshackle #grim #house pet au #reader insert #kitten grim

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epiphainie · 11 months ago

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Time to spread some good vibes in the fandom ✨ so what are five cute headcanons you have about BuckTommy or Tommy? 🥰 And if you want to, send an ask like this to someone else.

kyaaa, you angel 💛

let's see hm:

• buck looooves being a passenger princess in tommy's truck but what he's actually being is a pain in the ass backseat driver telling tommy what to do at every turn and exit and lane change. tommy gets maybeee a teeny tiny miniscule bit irritated but buck is adorable so he can't say anything 😔

• they're both chronically offline. tommy has too many physical hobbies and buddies to keep tabs on what's going on in the digital world - he only reads the news - and buck's online habits skew very niche, so the time he spends on his phone is him reading random hobbyist websites set up in 2001 and only half-function. the first time one of them uploads a pic of them together is 18 months into their relationship and makes their respective LAFD peeps go "wait what?"

• they become obsessive plant dads once they move in together. it starts with the one houseplant tommy gifted buck but becomes an entire garden quickly. buck keeps an excel sheet to keep track of their plant babies' progress and calls watering them "giving them a bath" which endears tommy to no end and tommy convinces eddie (in exhange of some mma tickets) to "plant-sit" for them when they're out of town

• when they're sitting together, buck loves fitting his chin right in the crook of tommy's shoulder and just look at what he's doing on his phone/his crossword puzzle/what he's reading etc. this usually occurs when he's extremely tired and out of the last dregs of energy - finally - so it's also when he's the most quiet. tommy loves these moments

• tommy has this habit where he says what the character in a movie will say right before they say it. the first time he shows buck a movie he loves and says the quote mere heartbeats before it actually plays out on the screen buck turns to him to huff and puff about tommy spoiling the scene for him but he finds his boyfriend with big enraptured eyes looking at the screen, looking so awed and cute, so he can't say anything 😔

#thanks for the ask 💛💛💛#bucktommy #mimi talks #911 #mimi.txt #911 fic

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pedropascalsx · 2 years ago

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‘You kiss me in a way that’s going to screw me up forever.’ - Frankie Morales x F! Reader!

Summary: You and Frankie are forced back together after a long painful few months.

Warning: It’s angsty, happy ending but angsty beginning. P in V, Oral (f receiving), a little jerking off, fingering, unprotected sex, cursing, and mentions of death.

No physical descriptions of reader.

Word Count: 3.6k

A/N: Well. I did it. I finished a fic after months of not believing in myself and my ability to write anymore. I can’t promise it’s good but I worked really hard on it and I hope you enjoy it. This has not been beta’d. I apologise for any mistakes.

His hands itched but his fingers felt numb. You looked in his direction only once, and it was straight through him rather than at him. He could feel it, the ache that burned steadily in your chest, a burning that he implanted there many moons ago as you pleaded so softly for him to stay.

He couldn’t. You knew that. He knew it too. But you couldn’t help the way those words fell so brokenly from your lips. The lips that were stained red with tiny droplets of blood from the way your teeth sunk so deep into them, the skin proving to be as delicate as your splintering heart. The heart that’s never beat the same as it did before that day.

“So just one night?” Benny asks from next to you, speaking to Pope who was perched next to Frankie.

For just a single second you allowed yourself to look up at him, praying he was too busy concentrating on the hushed conversation taking place but he wasn’t. He was waiting, studying your face, waiting for the moment you’d let your guard down… Ready to silently console your broken heart with that look he reserved just for you.

It felt like you were staring into those big brown eyes for an eternity but also like you pulled away much too soon, the ache in your heart getting harder to bear with every painful ticking second.

The conversation continued as Benny, Will and Pope went back and forth and although you could hear them speaking it wasn’t until a familiar commanding voice muttered two words that you were able to actually take anything in.

“I’m down.” Frankie said with a slight shrug of his shoulders, agreeing to what you assume is some half baked plan that will ultimately involve one of you getting shot at.

The next voice was Wills agreeing and downing the rest of his beer, shortly followed by an enthusiastic Benny and then it was down to you. And were you really about to agree to participating in something that involved heaven knows what?

“Fine,” you groaned, slightly shaking your head and running your fingers through your hair.

“We leave first thing, and if all goes to plan we will be back the following morning.” Pope said with a signature grin, before ordering another round and beginning to reveal his carefully thought out plan.

The rest of the evening almost went by without a hitch, your restraint surprising you as you managed to refrain from looking in his distraction again.

“Benny and Will will drive down in one car, and three of us will go in Frankies truck.” Pope informs you, and before you have the chance to think of an excuse he’s pushing past you and making his way towards the bar to pay the tab.

“5:30,” Frankie said, hating the way you’re looking over at Pope instead of looking at him. “I’ll have Pope text you as we’re leaving his place.”

“Okay,” you just about managed in response, refusing to look at him and pulling your bag on your shoulder before making your way to the exit without another word.

The ache in your chest threatened to consume your entire body as you walked hastily towards your car, inhaling as deeply as you could and only exhaling along with a shaky sob once the car door slammed shut next to you.

It had been months since that night, months of avoiding your best friends and attempting to move on from him. But it didn’t work. You knew he’d be there and you still went, convincing yourself that it was because they’d need someone clinical for whatever mission was clearly going to take place… but really it was because you couldn’t spend another day not knowing how he was. If he was in as much pain as you are.

The drive home was slow, despite the time and the fact you needed to be up in less hours than fingers you have on one hand. Still it didn’t make you speed up in any way, instead you opened the windows and let the cruel bitter air in and allowed it to burrow under your skin and temporarily replace that ache with a new one.

You waited anxiously for sleep to come that night, tossed and turned in your comfortable bed but it never came. Instead you watched as the hours ticked by and eventually gave up trying, forcing yourself into the shower a little before 5 and attempting to scrub away all the pain and hurt you’d been harbouring for almost 7 months. It didn’t work. It never worked.

You were already waiting, sitting on the swing chair on your porch as his truck came hurtling around the corner. The first thing you noticed was there was no Pope, it was just Frankie sitting in front. Second thing was the way he refused to take his eyes off of you for a single second, eyes glued to you as you slowly approached his truck, sighing as you spotted Pope sprawled out in the back snoring away. You carelessly threw your backpack into the back of the truck before getting in.

“Sorry,” he muttered, as you clicked your seatbelt into place, “He needs his beauty sleep.”

You responded with a brisk nod, focusing on looking straight ahead and waiting for him to pull away. Not in the mood for small talk. Not in the mood to feel your traitorous heart leap at anything and everything this man says to you.

Looking out of the window, you watched as the streets slowly fizzled out, you noticed the tall buildings quickly cease to exist around you. You watched as the streaks of purple pink skies that once crept out between the buildings become the only things that surround the quiet roads besides the lush fields. A brief smile crossed your face and you felt him notice it.

“How have you been?” He asked quietly, clearly unsure of himself and whether he’s in a situation where it’s not crossing a line to ask.

“Surviving,” was the only word that slipped through your lips.

“Yeah. Me too.” He scoffed, leaving the air a little uncomfortable to breathe, as his fingers tightened around the steering wheel and he shook his head.

He was trying. You could see that. You could feel it in the way he was handling himself… But that fucking ache. The one that spreads across your chest and causes your lungs to collapse, your throat to tighten and all of your airways to restrict was rearing its ugly head. Threatening to leave you gasping for air… or maybe for his touch and you couldn’t handle him seeing you like that. He didn’t deserve to see how broken he had left you.

“I’m sorry,” he grunted after a while, disturbing the silence and it made you want to weep. “I, I-uh fuck-I’m sorry. I can’t take it back. Fuck. If I cou-.”

“Stop,” you spat, with a furious shake of your head. Leaving the word hanging, and feeling a type of poison flood the air between the two of you. Months of unspoken agony being left silently choke you both as you were in forced confinement for at least the next 24 hours.

“We need to get the fuck out of here,” he yelled as the rest of you scrambled around grabbing anything and everything you could carry, before running down the stairs behind him. Flashbacks of the failed mission from the previous year flashing behind your eyes as the image of Tom's lifeless body made your eyes water.

There would be no repeats of that day. You had all made sure of that this time. No injuries. No deaths. The house was empty, you had all made sure of it and more importantly; no one had seen you. The endless stacks of drugs, weapons and the cash you couldn’t carry would be destroyed in a matter of minutes as Will lit the flame that would bring it down to nothing.

None of you stopped to watch, there would be no time to enjoy or acknowledge the millions of dollars of drugs not making it onto the streets as Frankie sped away in the rented van and made his way back to where he parked his truck, where you’d all transfer the cash filled bags from the back and Benny would then return the rental.

Seemingly it went smoothly, no one got hurt, the mission was a success and you had enough money to settle down and start living your life instead of barely surviving. But the cracks had already started to show. All five of you are haunted by the mission that you vowed to never speak of, only occasionally referencing it in passing when speaking briefly of Tom.

And now you’re here, sitting on the couch of the overpriced airbnb Pope had booked the night before. Listening to Will rant and rave about how that should have happened last year, how we should have all made Tom listen and made him leave when we had planned. How we should have listened to Frankies concerns about the overloading the helicopter but it’s too fucking late now.

“I can’t do this,” you say, as you push yourself up onto shaky legs. “Last year was a fuck up, and everything since has been a fuck up.” You say while unconsciously staring into Frankies big brown eyes, before pulling away. “Tell Benny to let me know he got back safe.” You say to Will before making your way upstairs to your room for the night.

“You need to eat,” Frankie calls out from behind you, but you don’t look back.

Benny had popped his head in the door, and when he saw you were awake he passed a plate with a few slices of pizza to you before pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead and sliding back out. Sensing you needed to be alone.

And now you’re staring blankly at the ceiling, hating the way your body can almost sense how close Frankie is. How just a few months ago he’d be laying beside you, whispering filth into your ear just to watch you giggle and attempt to cover your face with the covers before capturing your lips with the kind of kiss that always left you longing for more.

You attempt to rationalize the events of that night and the one time you saw him after, the reason he couldn’t pick you was one you would never fault. Renee had made it clear that if he was to continue seeing you romantically, he’d lose Luna. You understood that. But you didn’t understand why he treated you the way he did a few nights later, you had initially held back politely.

But you still greeted him with a smile as he entered Bennys and a few moments later gathered up some strength and offered him a beer, and he responded with a look that ignited the ache he had put into you a few days before and replaced the longing that lingered there with unfiltered pain.

It was a look that you had never seen from him before, one that has haunted your dreams ever since… one you had found yourself praying you’d never see in person again. It was a pure look of hatred and you had done nothing to deserve it. He didn’t speak to you. He just stared you down until you couldn’t take it anymore, made a shitty excuse and left hastily.

It was too much then, and it’s too much now, you think to yourself as you wrap yourself up in the covers and grip the spare pillow beside you; clutching it to your chest and you desperately will yourself to sleep.

The house is eerily quiet. He figures everyone’s asleep but he can't switch off his brain or push away those feelings that came flooding back the day before when you slowly wandered into the bar. But that’s a lie he thinks to himself, they never ever left. He had convinced himself that he could make you fall out of love with him by treating you differently but he didn’t imagine that he’d do it that quickly.

It had killed him to kill you. And now you’re in the room across from him, likely to be sleeping soundly and hopefully dreaming of things that are much better than him. He thinks about all the times he’d watch you sleep, snuggled up beside him with your hand always placed on the centre of his chest. He can almost feel it, he can almost push away the same ache that lives inside of you both away for long enough to feel the warmth of your hand.

His legs are moving before he has time to realize what’s happening and he’s shoving the covers off of himself and his legs are dragging him out of bed. He’s moving faster than he has in months, not stopping, keeping his hand outstretched from when he opened his door so he can easily wrap his fingers around the doorknob that’s separating you from him.

He doesn’t knock, he knows he should but he doesn’t want to be turned away so he gently twists the knob and steps inside, shutting it as quietly as he can… needing to remind himself how relaxed you always looked when peacefully asleep.

But you’re not asleep, you’re wide awake and the sound of your doorknob being twisted had you shooting upright and the sight of him entering your room has you gasping.

“We need to talk.”

You want to yell, to tell him to get out of your room and leave you alone but the words don’t reach your lips. Instead you remain silent. Watching as he begins to pace in front of you. Watching as he desperately searches for words that you’re unsure he’ll ever find.

“You didn’t need to look at me like that,” you whisper, just and just loud enough for him to hear. “I wanted to be your friend. I wanted to still see you despite the agony of losing the man that I love and you looked at me like you hated me. I didn’t deserve it, Frankie.”

“You don’t understand,” he murmurs before pulling at the collar of his shirt.

“No, I don’t. You promised me that we’d still be friends.”

“The second I saw you, you looked at me like I was your entire world and I couldn’t fucking breathe,” he snarls back, taking a step towards you in bed. “I was supposed to be your friend? Tell me how? When I couldn’t risk looking at you the same fucking way, despite the fact I felt, fuck, feel the same fucking way.”

“You made your choice, and you made the decision to promise you’d still be my friend, Francisco. Fuck. You’re going to say this shit to me and run back to your perfect little family tomorrow and leave me broken again.” You say as calmly as you can, despite the urge to scream. “Get out.”

“No.”

“Frankie.”

“Do you really want me to leave?”

“No.”

You’re not sure who moves first but it’s quick, your mouths fusing together and your tongues beginning to battle for dominance as you pull at each other's clothes. Only pulling apart to pull his shirt over his head and immediately crashing back together. It’s frantic, it’s messy and it’s everything your body has been craving for months.

The noise that falls from your lips as he breaks your kiss is a desperate whimper. But before you can beg for them back he’s moving down and burying his face between your thighs, nuzzling his nose against the damp patch on your panties and inhaling your scent.

His name falls from your lips like a desperate plea, and he knows exactly what you’re craving, he’s craving it too. For months he has been dreaming about the taste of you and he’s not wasting anymore time. He pulls off your panties in one quick motion, and starts with a few gentle flicks of his tongue, occasionally switching it up and sucking on your little bundle of nerves. Every filthy noise that he makes adds to your pleasure as he continues working you towards paradise.

“Oh Franciscoooo,” you just about whimper before pleasure whips through you and the only thing you can focus on is him and the pleasure that’s erupting through your entire body. He doesn’t let up, not for even for a second, he continues licking and sucking at your swollen clit until you’re begging him to stop.

He stays there for a few minutes, admiring the view of your glistening pussy before he gently peppers a few kisses on the top of your thigh. Sensing you’re a little less stimulated, he flattens his tongue and licks a wide stripe through your cunt, groaning at the delicious taste of you and your arousal.

Gently he pushes two fingers into your heat, and smirks at the way you wince a little at the stretch from his digits alone. “So fucking tight, baby,” he praises before pumping them in and out. “I’ve missed this. Missed you. Thought about you everyday.”

You try to reply but the only thing that escapes your throat is a wanton moan as he starts licking your pussy again, licking at your clit and pumping his fingers in perfect unison. Loving the way your soft moans fill the room and you’ve perfectly captured and entranced all of his senses.

It doesn’t take long before the pressure builds and you’re coming apart at the mercy of his talented tongue and equally talented fingers. Flooding them with your arousal and crying his name so sweetly.

You say his name again, and he can’t hold back, he gently pulls out his fingers and pushes them into his mouth, tasting you anyway he can before climbing back up and smashing his mouth to yours.

His cock twitches against your stomach, rock hard and leaking. He’s needing release, needing to be buried in you but he doesn’t rush. He just gently grips your jaw, holding it open so he can lick into your mouth, kissing you with every bit of strength he has.

Your hands roam across his shoulders and down his back, dipping into the waistband of his boxers and grabbing at the flesh of his ass. He gets the message and lets go of your mouth, breaking free of the kiss but peppering a few pecks before pulling back. He frees himself of his boxers and climbs back between his legs, pushing them a little wider and gently tapping the tip of him against your clit.

“Don’t tease,” you snarl, as you reach down and take him in your hand. Running your hand up and down his length and loving the groans that he rewards you with. Your thumb swipes over the tip, rubbing the pre-cum down his shaft and he hisses your name in a way that makes your pussy throb.

He gently pushes your hand away and gives himself a few languid strokes before lining himself up against your entrance, “Do you think this tight little pussy can take me?” He teases, “Or do I need to stretch you out a little more.”

“Frankie, please,” you beg, writhing beneath him as your need grows even stronger.

“Please, what, baby girl?”

“Please, fuck me,” you groan impatiently.

“Whatever you need.”

He sheathes himself into with a quick snap of his hips, hissing loudly as he fills you to the hilt and groaning at how responsive your pussy is to him. Your walls immediately flutter and grip onto him as you adjust to the width of him. The stinging being drowned out by pleasure as he throbs inside of you, you don’t ask him to move, you wait patiently for him to start rolling his hips and working up to a delicious pace.

It’s like he never left, he immediately finds that spot inside of you, notching against it with every earth shattering snap of his hips. Growling in your eye and demanding you ‘rub your clit’ so he can ‘feel that perfect little cunt spasm around his fat cock.’

Every thrust pushes air from your lungs and pulls pleasure from every receptor in your body, you’re consumed by him and suddenly everything feels right in the world.

He doesn’t stop muttering praise in your ear, with every slam of his hips a sweet nothing and a promise that you know he could never break is whispered in your ear.

“I’m close,” you whimper as you circle your clit a little faster, and he hisses in response. Pulling his hips back and slamming them into you, fucking you into the mattress and pulling the sweetest, softest and somehow filthiest noises from you.

It spreads through you like a wildfire, your eyes roll back and everything goes black before stars start to burst behind your eyes. You’re almost lost in pleasure, feeling like you’re floating away and then he anchors you. Pulling you back with a soft press of his lips to yours.

He immediately hushes you as you open your mouth to speak, then pulling out of your heat slowly and giving himself a few harsh strokes and covering your pussy with rope after rope of his warm cum, groaning your name over and over as he cums.

“I really fucking missed you,” he says once he’s milked himself dry, before rolling over onto his side and pulling you to face him. “And this time I’m never letting you go.”

You wake up first, he’s still snoring blissfully and snuggled up tightly next to you. A hand possessively wrapped around your waist. Something is missing, and it takes a few minutes to work out what it is.

Your mind searches for the answer, something is missing, yet you don’t feel sad. You don’t feel like you need to search for whatever it is.

And then his hand slides up, slowly, landing comfortably in the middle of your chest and it hits you.

That ache. It’s finally gone.

#pedro pascal #triple frontier #frankie morales #frankie morales smut #frankie morales imagine #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x ofc #frankie morales x female reader #francisco morales #frankie catfish morales #francisco catfish morales #triple frontier fanfiction #my fanfic #my fanfiction #i hate tagging fics im bad at it

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certifiedlovergirlsstuff · 2 years ago

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mr and mrs parker

pairing: peter parker x fem!reader

wc: 1.7K

warnings: none. clean as a whistle

summary: fury has assigned you and peter on an undercover mission. as a married couple. and the two of you haven’t even been on a first date yet. used prompts 3 and 7 from oblivious pining from @mangocherri

A/N: peter and reader are aged up to 21, but there’s nothing explicit happening.

masterlist / peter parker

“the both of you are going undercover at the event as a married couple. need these bugs to be planted where you deem fit. keep tabs on anyone suspicious, and stay lively and sober. be the happy couple.” fury left the tiny bugging devices and exited the room without further words.

you and peter stayed quiet while both of you sat at the giant conference table. two manilla envelopes were sitting in front of each of you with information on the targets and the object of the mission. along with the cover story, the both of you being the happy mr and mrs parker couple.

now there was a slight problem with the cover story, you were a married couple. not even a regular couple, just two friends/coworkers who have crushes on each other but are too chicken to do anything about it.

“ever been to an event like this?” peter asked. the first one to break the growing silence in the room.

you bent the corner of the folder, “uh, yeah. but only twice and both were in the shadow missions. being dressed as a waiter, passing through the crowd unnoticed. now i’m gonna be dressed nice and done up, eyes watching. still never used to that feeling.” hand leaving the card stock and falling into your lap. “you?” already knowing the answer.

he shook his head, “not my thing. usually, it’s spider-man coming in to save the day.”

“well,” you stood from your seat, “for the day we can pretend to be fancy people and a lovely couple.” hoping you didn’t show too much excitement for the last part.

“best day ever.” peter replied as he grabbed his papers, a nice red ghosting on his cheeks.

“excited?” natasha walked into your room and sat on the foot of your made bed.

you were sitting at your desk which was your temporary vanity for the time getting ready. tubes and powers, palettes and brushes were scattered over the surface, a task for future you to clean up. hair painstakingly styled from your usual combat sleek look, your arms getting their workout for the day.

you sighed at natasha’s question, “i feel sick,” grumbled as you looked for your blush. natasha just laughed at the comment, “that’s the butterflies, honey. your nervous cause of your partner. i’m sorry, husband.” she practically sang the word.

you dropped your voice, “no, it's not cause of peter. i’m just not used to being in an eye-catching position.” touching up your eye makeup for distraction.

“uh huh.” she didn’t sound convinced, “well, i��m sure my memory doesn’t fail me cause i swear, there was this girl a few months ago who came to me frantic about this crush she had on a bug superhero. but i guess i’m old since i’m in my late thirties.”

you dropped any brushes or makeup from your hand back to the table. a defeated sigh racking from your chest, “okay, yes, fine. it’s mostly cause of peter and how we’re probably gonna hold hands and maybe need to kiss or something. but there is a small part cause of the mission, that’s one hundred percent true.”

natasha stood from your bed and walked behind you, hands squeezing your shoulders, “you’re gonna do great, honey. you’re one of the youngest SHIELD agents, you know what you’re doing. and peter’s been getting better at undercover, there’s nothing to worry about. a simple bug and mingle.”

the two of you locked eyes in your mirror. natasha felt like an older sister hyping you up for your high school dance with a boy you liked, but in reality, it was an agent-to-agent pep talk for an undercover op with a web-crawling hero. tomato potato.

a gentle knock at the door stole the attention. you yelled for them to enter and peter poked his head around the gap, he sent a sheepish smile in greeting, and it made those flutters reappear.

“hi, sorry. don’t mean to bother-“ “your not a bother.” quickly interrupting peter. you ignore the look natasha sent you.

peter chuckled lightly, “thanks. uh, i was wondering if either of you could help with my bow tie? i can’t find anyone else in the tower and i wasn’t taught….” he trailed off while playing with the black fabric.

natasha patted your shoulders before moving away, “y/n can help. so i’m gonna head out and the two of you enjoy your date- sorry, mission.” leaving the both of you warm in the face and also giving peter a pat on his back before closing your door behind her. and then it was two.

you stood from your chair and made your way to peter. “sorry about her. loves messing with people.” rolling your lips and eyes shying away from peter’s pretty brown ones. again a light chuckle from him, “it’s- it’s fine. kinda used to that from my aunt.”

you nodded, “ready for tonight?” bouncing on the balls of your feet. you were still dressed in a loose shirt and shorts, planning to slip into your dress in a few minutes.

peter played with his bow tie, “physically just about. mentally… need a few more minutes to be thrown into the lion's den.” now you laughed as you plucked the fabric from him and stepped closer, “it’s not so much a lion's den, more like a… a monkey den.”

you popped peter’s stiff collar and slipped the fabric behind his neck, end pieces adjusted evenly. “what makes it a monkey’s den?” peter tilted his head back a little, chin almost hitting your forehead.

you spoke into his chest, fingers bending and twisting. “their all dressed in their monkey suits and throwing bullshit at each other. all they need is a couple of hung tires and boom, monkey den ala rich assholes.” pulling the finished bow tight.

you took a step back to admire your handiwork. peter dropped his head and his darting brown eyes made you part your lips subconsciously. peter swiped his hands down his pressed white button-up, “how- how do i look? like i’ll fight in?”

you let your eyes drift down his chest, the shirt loose enough that it wouldn’t strain when he moved his arms. the end of the shirt tucked into his black dress pants that were without a wrinkle and stopped just at his ankle. but when you went from toe to head, you only saw a boyish face with little bits of baby fat clinging to his cheeks. how he smiled awkwardly, teeth flashing white, his eyes nervous and almost blinking too many times.

“you won’t fit in.” saying the statement gently. peter deflated a bit, a crinkle in the middle of his brows. you gained that previous step back, right hand hesitantly falling over peter’s heart.

“but it’s best you don’t look like them. want you to stand out as your own.” boldly gazing into his eyes, letting your words melt into his brain for a moment before walking away. “now, uh, if you could just stay here so you could help with my dress that’d be great.”

“yeah! ye-yeah, can- can do that.” and you heard the heels of his sleek leather shoes click on your floor.

you grabbed the all-black gown from your closet and led into your connected bathroom. stripping off your casual comfy clothes, you held the dress to the floor and stepped in from the top to save your hair and makeup from friction. thick black straps sit on your shoulders and with a hand over your chest, you slide the door to shuffle back to the open space.

peter had his hands stuffed into his pockets and was leaning into your desk area, eyes taking in all the photos decorating your dirty mirror. he had a soft smile on his thin lips.

“a little help, spider boy.” sneaking up on him and not withholding the little giggle at seeing him startle in surprise. “thought you had a tingle for danger.”

“it’s called spider sense and you're not a danger, at least not to me.” you hummed as you turned your back to peter. you peeked a glance over your shoulder to see peter standing pretty close to your back, closer than would be normal to zip up a dress. he pulled both sides of the fabric tight then held them with one hand at the top of your back while his dominant hand tugged up the zipper slowly. you sucked in the sigh that wanted to escape at the feeling of peter’s touch and warmth, you kept your head forward and eyes focused on your messy bed.

peter stopped and you thought he was done but then his wrist skimmed across your neck and you couldn’t help the audible gasp. “sorry, didn’t want your hair getting caught.” his voice was low. “it’s okay.” almost breathless. “it’s- it’s beautiful. your hair and- and makeup. just not used to seeing you dressed up.”

a quick laugh, “yeah, definitely out of my comfort zone. but it’s- it’s not too bad. at least you're in the same boat, i’m- i’m guessing.” chiding yourself for the assumption, but peter quickly quelled the nerves, “definitely out of my zone. there, all done.”

turning to face peter you did the same actions as him earlier, looking down at your attire and smoothing your hands over invisible wrinkles. “not too much? not trying to draw attention.”

you waited to hear an answer but it never came. you looked away from the dress to see peter with wide eyes and a tight mouth. you stepped closer and pressed the back of your hand to his cheek and exposed forehead, “you okay?”

he mindlessly nodded, and you stepped away to look for your tiny heels. but stopped in your search at the crack of peter’s voice and the heart-racing words that left his mouth.

“what?” your own eyes blown large. peter scratched a hand on the back of his hair before shoving it into his pockets. he cleared his throat and looked directly at you while repeating, “you- you look beautiful. hard to not draw attention.” he cleared his throat again.

“uh, th- thanks, peter.”

“yeah… well i’m- im gonna wait outside. see- see you in a few minutes.” and he left before you could protest his absence.

#peter parker fic #peter parker x female reader #peter parker x you #peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker fluff #peter parker x shield reader #spider man imagine #spider man fic #marvel x reader #marvel fanfiction #marvel fluff #marvel imagine #marvel

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shslbunnylover · 2 years ago

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★★★𝙇𝙤𝙬 𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙤𝙡𝙪𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣, 𝙝𝙞𝙜𝙝 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 (𝙆𝙞𝙣𝙠𝙩𝙤𝙗𝙚𝙧 𝙙𝙖𝙮 15: 𝙁𝙞𝙡𝙢𝙚𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙭)★★★

Character: Larissa Weems

Taglist: @inlovewithgreta @lilfartbox1 @marvels--slut

Trigger warnings (DL, DI): Oral (Larissa receiving), mentions of porn, filmed sex, explicit language and dirty talk,

Genre: Smut

Word count: 1.6k

...

You knew you shouldn't be watching this, even if you didn't have any work to do.

But the sensual setting around you of a dark room with the only luminescence coming from your fairy lights that you had strung around your office didn't help your situation.

You weren't unfulfilled by the sex life you had with Larissa, you really weren't! You would take everything as it was in a heartbeat over a more sexual relationship with another person.

You just...had your fantasies...and you often got those fantasies out by watching them played on your computer screen.

But there was still a part of you that wished to be filmed in your most submissive and vulnerable moments in the bedroom, only to be rewatched by your girlfriend while you were away.

You didn't know why, your center just heated up at the thought and nervousness of being filmed during your most intimate moments together.

"Sweetling? Is everything okay?" You heard the concerned voice of your girlfriend say, breaking you out of your thoughts as she saw your face all heated up at your computer right after she had entered your office.

Her voice was perfect and seductive, sending a shiver down your spine as the sounds of her vocals made your underwear more soaked than it had already been after watching the scene on your laptop a few moments ago.

"Oh yeah! Don't worry 'Rissa!" You smiled, quickly slamming your thighs together to hide the pulse of your core that was traveling throughout your whole body at what you were just watching when you knew you probably shouldn't be.

You could only thank God that you had been wearing headphones prior to Larissa entering the room.

"Are you sure about that?" Larissa asked once again, leaning over the desk slightly as she expressed her worry through her facial expressions and body language.

You immediately closed out the tab on your computer, eyes darting to the floor next to you as to find any chance of avoiding the older woman's majestic ocean blue eyes.

"I said d-don't worry about it...!" You squeaked, still refusing to allow your eyes to glance at the woman in front of you.

The blonde cocked an eyebrow in response, a hum of confusion exiting her lips as she looked down at your computer, unable to see what you were looking at from the position she was in.

The look on your face was the last thing you needed to help prove to your girlfriend that everything was okay.

"Hmm...I don't believe you," She replied, tracing a finger across your jawline before forcing your chin up to look at her with her digit. "Tell me, I want to know what's going on with you, sweetheart,"

You let out a tiny whimper you usually only let out whenever you were turned on as your eyes darted to finally face Larissa, when you suddenly noticed a smirk forming on her face, her eyebrows raising in amusement as she overlooked your flustered expression.

You still refused to speak, but you didn't need to anymore, Larissa knew what was going on in that pretty little head of yours.

"What was on your laptop sweetheart?" The older woman said with a smug tone, leaning into you in order to get you more flustered, her hands gripping the front edges of the desk to help her body lean more into yours.

"N-Nothing..." You stuttered, shutting your laptop as your thighs squeezed together, trying to think of a way to get yourself out of this situation that wouldn't result in you having to show your girlfriend your secret kink of being recorded.

But Larissa wasn't going to take no for an answer, she was going to force it out of you whether you liked it or not.

The blonde quickly moved her hand to wrap it around your neck softly, threatening to squeeze it softly if you weren't to tell her what was going on, but she already knew that the position she had put you in would knock you into a submissive state enough that you would tell her.

"R-Rissa I..." You squeaked in surprise at the new sensation of Larissa holding your neck in her hand as if it were nothing to her.

"Speak, or I'll look through your search history and punish you for not telling me," She smirked, knowing that would definitely push you over the edge and make you show her.

You sighed in slight fear, wondering if your girlfriend would judge you or even hate you for what you were watching.

"P-Porn..." You mumbled, face erupting in a massive blush as your legs bounced in anxiety, your brain racing at 1000 miles per second as your eyes darted back down to your lap.

Larissa raised an eyebrow, smirking even more as she let go of your neck, sliding your laptop to the side as she rested her elbows on the wood.

"Is that so? What were you watching?" She asked, not an ounce of judgment in her tone as she looked at you with both a mischievous and a curious expression on her face.

Despite the lack of judgement in her voice and face, you still felt the need to defend yourself to your partner, your eyes welling up with tears at the thought of her hating you even with you knowing she could never.

"It was just regular stuff, I just...I just have always..." You began, letting a tear fall that Larissa quickly wiped away with her thumb, using it once again to stroke your cheek as she listened to you speak.

"Go on, I'm not judging, I want to know," She said patiently, her eyes softening from the mischievousness and moving into a more curious and accepting look.

You took a deep breath, exhaling in relief as you looked back up at the older woman with gratitude.

"I've just always wanted to know what it was liked to be recorded," You sighed, "I've always gotten off to the fantasy of it, but I really just want to try it with you,"

Larissa smiled in reply, and she nodded, taking your hand and pulling you into your shared bedroom, her usual seductive and sly smirk beginning to form on her face once again in contrast to her kind expression she had previously.

"Then let's try it," She smirked, grabbing a nearby camcorder she had used for events at Nevermore and always kept in her room to look back on.

Your eyes lit up at the sight of the camera, and your center pulsed as well.

"You're going to suck me off and then I'll reward you," She demanded, pressing the record button on the device as she quickly shapeshifted her lower half so that a bulge was sticking out of her skirt before sitting on the bed, making all the moisture from your mouth disappear and reappear in your panties.

You hungrily tugged off her skirt and panties, your eyes sparkling with sexual delight as you immediately attached your lips to her cock, looking up at Larissa with doe eyes as you swirled your tongue around her sensitive tip.

"Suck" She commanded as moans escaped her lips, you nodded lightly before fully deep throathing her cock, you hated not being able to actually lick around her tip, not being able to savor what you considered to be your favorite meal, but her moans and sighs of pleasure were all that you needed.

Your breath hitched every couple of minutes as occasional gags escaped your throat, eyes looking over at the camcorder that was capturing just how good you always were for the older woman.

"You like that? You like being filmed while sucking me off?" Larissa asked with a teasing tone in between her sounds of pleasure.

You looked back up at her with your usual doe eyes, a hand wrapping around her cock to stroke it quickly as your tongue swirled around her tip, nodding at her question as she continued to ask you lewd and dirty questions.

Larissa quickly went over the edge after you told that, squirting her hot ropes of cum down your throat. You moaned at the feeling, swallowing all of the love milk after she had finally pulled out of you.

Larissa let out a soft groan, feeling her high calm down as she took a deep breath, looking at you with another smirk.

"I think it's time for me to fuck you in front of that camera..."

#lesbian #wlw #pansexual #wlw ns/fw #kinktober 2023 #smut #larissa weems x reader #wendsday #wlw and nblw only #nblw ns/fw #we gay here #shslbunnylovers kinktober #bisexual #nblw

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imbree64 · 9 days ago

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Ok since episode 5 is tomorrow, we need to review what happened in the previous episodes and what happened in the trailer so we can predict what is going to happen in episode five

In episode 1 ,"The Elastic Banana of Consciousness"

Pomni, a confused elbow disguised as a jester hat, logs into a corrupted educational math game from 1997 and immediately loses her sense of brunch. She meets a bunch of equally glitched individuals: a literal talking exclamation mark named Jax, a depressed marshmallow named Ragatha, and a cube of sentient soap called Caine, who insists he’s both the ringmaster and your dad.

Caine introduces Pomni to the Digital Circus, which is not a circus, nor digital, but rather a highly compressed pocket of psychological soup filled with balloon animals that whisper Latin. Every character seems chill until someone mentions “the exit,” at which point the walls bleed confetti and a vending machine starts screaming.

Midway through, Pomni is chased by a hallway that’s allergic to logic and ends up in the Void, a non-place that contains every browser tab you’ve ever left open. There, she meets a creature made entirely of obsolete TikTok dances who tries to explain free will using interpretive jazz.

Meanwhile, Jax hides beans in people’s shoes “just in case,” Ragatha attempts to build a friendship pyramid using wet spaghetti, and Kinger—the chess-obsessed metaphor for your uncle's trauma—tries to marry a lamp.

Eventually, everything loops like a cursed screensaver, and Pomni realizes she can’t log out because the logout button is actually a disguised metaphor for fear of abandonment. The episode ends with Caine flossing uncontrollably and screaming, “Welcome to the circus! We have emotional damage!”

In episode 2 ,

“Glitch of the Gooey Gargoyle”

Pomni wakes up to find that her legs have been replaced with tiny pogo sticks that won't stop bouncing unless she speaks exclusively in limericks. Meanwhile, Jax decides he's going to start a "gargoyle breeding program" after mistaking a corrupted JPEG file for a magical egg.

Ragatha becomes convinced that she's a muffin and demands to be toasted in the digital sun, while Kinger insists he has uncovered a secret code in the pixelated wallpaper that will lead them all to the “Gummy Realm of Eternal Slight Discomfort.”

Chaos escalates when Caine hosts a mandatory "Trust Fall Tournament" inside a virtual dimension made entirely of banana pudding. Participants must trust fall into their worst fears while being serenaded by AI-generated country music sung backward.

Gangle accidentally summons the Gooey Gargoyle, a sticky, glitchy beast with the head of a rubber duck and the body of wet candy corn. It speaks only in outdated internet memes and leaks emotional data from everyone it touches.

To defeat it, the gang must:

Perform a synchronized dance using only their elbows

Solve a riddle shouted by a holographic toaster

Sacrifice something “deeply metaphorical, but also slightly crunchy”

In the end, Pomni manages to reset her legs by rhyming “existential dread” with “pixelated bread,” and the Gooey Gargoyle melts into a puddle that Jax tries to bottle and sell as “Glitch Sauce.”

Caine claps, declares it all “part of the experience,” and teleports everyone into a giant rubber chicken for next week's challenge.End Scene: The camera zooms in on a tiny fly trapped in a jar labeled "Plot Coherence – DO NOT OPEN."

Then in episode 3,

“The Toenail of Truth”

The episode begins with Zooble waking up inside a giant bowl of alphabet soup that only spells out passive-aggressive messages. They quickly discover that someone has replaced all doors in the circus with sentient, judgmental salad bars that demand a detailed emotional monologue before opening.

Meanwhile, Caine announces that this week’s “lesson” is about “truth, trust, and toenails.” He reveals that one of the cast members has been hiding a secret... and the only way to discover the truth is by finding the ancient artifact: The Toenail of Truth, a glowing, 8-foot-long toenail said to grant absolute honesty to whoever sniffs it.

Subplots include:

Kinger believes the Toenail is haunting him and starts wearing 12 hats to “block the honesty waves.”

Gangle attempts to sculpt her feelings but accidentally brings her sculpture to life, and it immediately joins a punk band.

Pomni is convinced that the toenail contains the exit code to leave the digital world, so she teams up with a philosophical vending machine named Carl who only dispenses cryptic haikus and mayonnaise packets.

As the crew explores a maze made of unused CAPTCHA tests and infinite loading screens, they encounter hostile pop-up ads, a chorus of sock puppets reenacting their traumas, and a talking stapler who insists he's their new dad.

Eventually, Jax finds the Toenail lodged inside a floating disco pineapple guarded by 37 clones of himself, each more sarcastic than the last. After a chaotic battle of wit, juggling, and interpretive dance, they bring the Toenail back...

...only to discover that the “truth” it reveals is just everyone’s browser history, projected on the walls in neon Comic Sans.

Climax: Everyone runs screaming as their most embarrassing thoughts are revealed, but Pomni saves the day by smearing digital peanut butter on the Toenail, which causes it to crash and reboot into a regular piece of toast.

Final Scene: The group sits silently as the toast gives them vague life advice in a Morgan Freeman-esque voice while slowly spinning in midair.

Caine laughs maniacally and says, “Now wasn’t that enlightening?” before vanishing into a cereal box labeled “FREE SADNESS INSIDE.”

And finally, in episode 4,

“The Quest for the Spaghetti Moon”

Plot Summary:

The episode kicks off with Pomni accidentally triggering the "Spaghetti Moon" prophecy while trying to reboot the circus' Wi-Fi. According to an ancient, glitchy scroll she finds inside a vending machine, the Spaghetti Moon is a celestial event where spaghetti rains from the sky, and whoever catches the most noodles gets their deepest, weirdest wish granted… but only if they make it through a series of absurd trials.

The gang is thrust into a wild race to the Spaghetti Moon, but the rules are ever-changing, and nobody really understands anything. Caine announces that they will have to "earn the noodles" through a series of mini-games involving both brainpower and spaghetti-fueled athleticism.

Mini-Games Include:

Noodle Jousting: Contestants ride on flying meatballs and joust with noodle lances made out of rubber bands and existential dread.

Spaghetti Knowledge Quiz: A game show hosted by a sentient jar of marinara sauce that only asks questions about obscure 90s cartoons and internet forum history.

Spaghetti Time Travel: Jax accidentally rewinds time by 5 minutes every time he blinks, but only when it’s absolutely inconvenient.

Carbonara Yoga: A rigorous yoga session where the floor is made of lasagna, and every pose must be held while chanting “Al Dente” in unison.

Amidst all the chaos, Ragatha discovers that the Spaghetti Moon is an ancient digital virus that threatens to “delete” reality itself if they don’t reach it first. But instead of panicking, she turns the impending catastrophe into a fashion trend, creating a new line of spaghetti-themed hats for everyone.

Subplot: Gangle, after a deep conversation with a spaghetti cloud that asks her if she’s ever felt “truly al dente,” begins to question her purpose in life. She contemplates becoming a pasta philosopher. Her deep thoughts are only interrupted by Kinger, who insists that the Spaghetti Moon holds the secret to “Quantum Tacos”, and they need to travel through a giant glowing fork to find the “Meatball Multiverse.”

After endless noodle-related obstacles and a bizarre encounter with Spaghetto, a mafia boss made entirely of pasta and meatballs who speaks in cryptic rhymes, the crew finally arrives at the Spaghetti Moon, which, to their horror, turns out to be... an oversized ravioli.

As they try to harvest their wish-granting noodles, Caine reveals the twist: only the person who can cook the perfect pasta will be granted a wish. The group ends up in a giant digital kitchen, with each contestant racing to cook a dish while battling against an army of sentient spaghetti forks.

Climax: Pomni wins by accidentally cooking a perfect “spaghetti paradox” that is both overcooked and undercooked at the same time, causing the moon to implode into a giant spaghetti tornado. Instead of granting wishes, it sends the gang into a “lasagna dimension”, where everyone is stuck in an eternal loop of layering pasta and sauce.Ending Scene: Caine gives a dramatic monologue about “the nature of pasta” and “the futility of wishes” while the group slowly dissolves into a puddle of marinara sauce and Parmesan dust. In the final shot, the Spaghetti Moon flickers out of existence, replaced by a floating jar of pickles that whispers “Next time, just read the manual.”

Now let's review what happened in the trailer and make predictions for the fifth episode,

“Pinball Paradox”

Trailer Breakdown:

The trailer starts with Jax gleefully being ejected out of a giant pinball machine, his arms flailing like rubber noodles, with the words “WELCOME TO THE FLIP SIDE” flashing in neon lights above him. His eyes are wide with excitement, but also slightly glitching.

Suddenly, the circus tent shudders, and a loud voice (possibly Caine, possibly a malfunctioning Roomba) says, “The Flippers are HERE!” Cue a fast montage of everyone being sucked into a bizarre pinball world made of bouncing trampolines, glowing pachinko machines, and sentient bowling balls. The gang is screaming in both joy and fear.

Predictions:

The Pinball Machine Dimension: Everyone is transported into a giant, sentient pinball machine where the flippers are actually evil sentient ping-pong paddles that refuse to let anyone get past them without first answering a riddle about cereal mascots. They also might randomly shoot out rubber chickens instead of balls, causing chaos.

Pomni’s "Flipping Identity Crisis": Pomni spends half the episode trapped in a loop where every time she lands, she forgets who she is, only to remember the second she gets flung again. She meets her "flipped" self, who is now a disco ball and claims to be the “Real Pomni”. They have a heated debate about identity and what it means to be a digital construct, all while bouncing between various pinball bumpers.

Gangle's New Career: Gangle starts a pinball-themed improv comedy troupe in the middle of the chaos, recruiting a neon-clad pachinko ball named Marty. They perform extremely avant-garde performances about the meaning of digital existence, which are met with confused applause from the rest of the crew.

Ragatha’s “Pinball Wizard” Moment: Ragatha gets an epiphany and begins to channel her inner Pinball Wizard, thinking that if she can play the game perfectly, it will grant her an escape. She becomes one with the machine, wearing a glowing helmet that looks suspiciously like a toaster. By the end, she is teleported to a digital version of Earth, but it’s all just pancakes, and she has to figure out how to exist in this pancake reality. She also has to dodge syrup floods while solving complex breakfast metaphors.

Kinger's "Time Travel Pinball" Theory: Kinger believes that the pinball machine is a time loop device. The more you flip, the more you age in digital years. As a result, he starts talking to himself in the future tense and predicts that in 2 hours, he will have already solved the “mystery” of the episode by riding a giant marshmallow to the moon.

The Flippers' Origin Story: The evil Flippers reveal their backstory in a completely unexpected, musical number. Apparently, they were once just regular flip-flops left on a beach by a digital vacation simulator. After being exposed to "too much feedback," they gained sentience and became obsessed with high-speed, unpredictable motion. Their goal? To flip the circus into an alternate dimension where everything is upside down and off-center, just like them.

Caine’s Final Reveal: In the end, Caine dramatically announces that the only way to escape the Pinball Dimension is to score the highest points on the digital scoreboard. The twist? He’s secretly been cheating the entire time by manipulating the scoreboard with his “super secret Caine powers,” and nobody cares, because the game makes zero sense anyway.

Cliffhanger Ending:

As the episode closes, the camera zooms out to show the entire circus now stuck inside the pinball machine, each member floating in midair like helpless digital marbles. Pomni is being chased by a glowing, angry paddle, while Ragatha laughs maniacally in the corner, surrounded by pancakes. Jax is still trying to figure out what the “exit flipper” does, but no one’s really sure if the exit even exists.The final shot is a giant ball of confetti that gets sucked into the machine, followed by the text: “TO BE CONTINUED… MAYBE?”

#the amazing digital circus #tadc jax #tadc pomni #tadc ragatha #tadc #tadc kinger #tadc gangle #tadc zooble #tadc caine #glitch productions #I totally didn't use chatgpt for this #WHY ARE THE TAGS BREAKING UP!?#tadc episode 5

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clover-the-awesomest · 2 years ago

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💕💕💕🥺🥺🥺👍

Me: I’m not gonna shade this, just do lineart

Also Me:

“Home.”

—-

So…yeah, wanted to draw my own take on this scene ;w; imagine his tiny, trembling lil peets reaching up for her when he lets her pick him up 😭 as much as Sylvia loves him, it must’ve been tough to see this version of her best friend in such a state. God this episode is truly one of the best ❤️‍🩹

#I was putting something smart and analytical in the tags but when I exited out of the tab for like a second I lost my progress #I don’t like safari man google is a much better browser #But I don’t wanna get it because that will just add more to my stupid fuccin storage and I’m on my iPad so #Just pretend I said something awesome and badass that adds to the experience of this lovely image #Love how you drew Sylvia here btw she looks like an actual athlete #Also. Banana nails. Teehee #AUGH ALSO BITTY WANDER IS SO SMOL AND TINY HERE LIKE LOOK AT HIM HES SO FUCCIN SOFT AND LANKY I LOVE HIM #SO MANY BONES (That’s a good thing. Appreciate the anatomy here)#Sylvia looks like an actua dragon/horse hybrid here and that has been what I’ve been trying to achieve for ever #Good for you for managing that #WAIT #WAIT I JUST REALIZED #WANDER HAS MISMATCHED SOCKS #OMG MISMATCHED SOCKS THATS SO WANDER OF HIM WTF #ITS SO CUTE AND PRECIOUS AND OF COURSE HE’D WEAR MISMATCHED SOCKS CUZ HE’S LITERALLY WANDER #HIS EYES ARE SO BIG AND ROUNG OMG #LOVE IT. 10/10 WILL ALWAYS RECOMMEND #tumbleweed

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acutiewithagun · 2 years ago

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hello :]

could I request a mikey x reader platonic hurt/comfort fic (w cuddles in some form)??

idk if this is too specific or not specific enough? sorry if it's either :P

(Absolutely fine, it's specific enough to give me ideas.)

Taglist: @oleander-nin

Healing is a form of art

You rubbed your eyes free of the tears you had been shedding. You gazed at the mirror in front of you and practiced fake smiles. They would catch on too fast if you didn't perfect it to a science. So forcing an upturn at your lips you wash your face with the water from the faucet in front of you.

Your eyes were puffy as you continued to scrub the water on your closed eyes. It hurt, but it was better than anyone figuring out about your fit. Stepping away from the sink you turned the tab, cutting off the water and wiped your face with a towel.

With a cheery smile you grasped the door knob of the bathroom, exiting quickly. You check your phone, rereading the orange box turtle's previous message. You figured you had just enough time to set up for your movie. Mikey was bringing it, but you had the snacks and blankets to cover.

You grab a pile of blankets and make your way to the couch, plopping the fuzzy fabric down. You then turn your attention to the kitchen. You rush over there then start to rummage through the cabinets and cupboards. You pull a few microwave popcorns out along with your secret stash of candy.

Taking the packaged candy to the nest on the couch, you dump the sweets and move back to the kitchen. You unwrap the packaging around the popcorn and push it into the microwave, starting it up. Reaching over to a cabinet, pulling out a bowl, and placing it on the counter.

Suddenly you are picked up and raised into the air with a yelp. "Ch'ello, my bestest friend." Your breathing picked up and became erratic as you wriggled around. "M-Mikey put me down!" He noticed your sudden freak out then put you down quickly and safely.

"What's wrong?" He turned you around to face him as you tried to reign in the tears that threatened to spill. Mikey noticed and looked over at the couch. With a nod he ushered you to the fuzzy pile, pushing you gently onto it and wrapping the blankets around you. Tears started spilling down your cheeks as you tried to reel in your fear.

The box turtle simply sat next to you, placing an arm over your shoulders. He was waiting for you to calm down, for your breathing to return to a stable rate. "I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere." His voice was soft despite how hyperactive he normally is.

Once you are able to grab a hold of your breathing, you rub the tears that stained your face. "S-sorry, I di-didn't want you to see-see that." You managed to hiccup the apology as he hugged you full on now.

"Care to tell Dr. Feelings what started that?" You froze at the nickname and looked ashamed, gazing at the floor. "... Before you got here... I was struggling a bit... The hug kinda set off my already skittish nerves." Mikey grinned as he held up the movie. "Wanna watch this to get your mind off of everything?"

You give him a small smile with a tiny nod. He stands up and inserts the film into a DVD player. Your gaze goes back to the popcorn that went off a while ago and you begrudgingly start to get up. Mikey is quickly stopping you with a cheery smile. "Nah, uh, uh, you are staying right there. I'll handle everything, ok?" He gives you a wink of assurance as you open your mouth to argue.

He placed a finger over your mouth. "Don't make me bring out Dr. Delicate Touch." You shudder at the flashbacks and settle back into the mountain of blankets that surrounds you. Mikey beams and whistles as he heads into the kitchen.

You hear the sounds of the microwave opening, a bag being torn apart, and popcorn being poured into the bowl. You could smell the butter and feel the fluffy cloth that covered you. Taking in the small details helped calm your already peaked nerves.

Mikey came back and plopped himself next to you as he started the movie. You unwrapped a bit of the blankets, inviting him into a cuddle. He gave you a bright smile and hurriedly joined you in the warm enclosure, placing the bowl between the two of you.

Movie days were a rarity with both of your busy schedules, but they held a special place. "Wanna tell me what you were struggling to deal with earlier? It might make you feel better." The suggestion was tempting, Mikey was your friend, he would judge you. So you relented as the movie turned into background noise against your worries and traumas.

Mikey just listened patiently, nodding when it was appropriate. Gradually you finished your tale of woe and tensed as you awaited the judgement. But all that came was the squeeze of a tight hug. "Thank you for telling me, that's a step closer to healing."

This didn't sound like the wild and chaotic Mikey you were used to. But for right now, it was a nice change. You also accepted his embrace in return. You both just hugged each other as the movie played, acting as great white noise as you calmed.

Healing was hard, you were taking so long, but Mikey always helped. He was the only one you could rely on. But he knew this, he knew all too well, but it still made you feel comfort. Despite all you've gone through, he was always there, ready to lend a shoulder.

Maybe healing is just another form of art, one your box turtle friend has mastered to a tee.

#rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #rottmnt oc #rottmnt self insert #rottmnt platonic x reader #yandere rottmnt #a cutie with a gun writes

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recoveringdreamer · 11 months ago

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TIMING: recent. LOCATION: a baby's day out fan event PARTIES: @banisheed & @recoveringdreamer SUMMARY: felix and siobhan attend an exclusive event for fans of the critically acclaimed film baby's day out (1994). CONTENT WARNINGS: none!

“Adventure. Comedy. Crime.” — Baby’s Day Out IMDB page genre listing

Baby’s Day Out was released on July 1st, 30 years ago. Since the baby bink (the baby of the titular day out) first crawled on screen, a handful of discerning moviegoers knew they had something special on their hands. And thus, the Coalition of Baby’s Day Out Enjoyers was born. Though their numbers have dwindled over the years, they kept studious tabs on anyone that has ever talked positively about this movie or seen it from start to mediocre finish. This was, by Siobhan’s estimation, about three people. Four, if she could be included, but she would sooner turn back into a baby herself than be counted among the ranks of these cretins. She was an idiot for thinking the vague invitation she’d received could’ve been something interesting. She remembered the moment she opened it: the paper smelt like baby powder and the words—”you’ve been chosen”—tugged on a doomed desire. For some unfathomably stupid reason, she’d thought this was from Saol Eile. Yes, of course, that was a bridge she thoroughly burned. But, still, if only…

No. Instead, she was here. Siobhan knew more about the history of the Coalition of Baby’s Day Out Enjoyers (the organizers of this belated anniversary party) than she ever wanted to. Due in large part to the woman in front of her who simply would not shut up, no matter how many threats of violence she was given. Eventually, Siobhan had to admit defeat and let the useless facts rain down on her. She tried to look around the space for something interesting to focus on instead but everything was baby themed: baby decorations, baby balloons, baby food. In lieu of the typical party champagne, there was warm milk served in sippy cups. Siobhan sipped hers slowly. “Do you think he’s coming soon?” the woman asked. Siobhan’s heavy eyes turned to the large sign at the entrance to the room: “SPECIAL GUEST APPEARANCE: JIM FOLEY (OLD SOLDIER #3)”.

Siobhan slurped her milk. The door creaked. Anticipation vibrated through the room; three bodies snapped to attention like meerkats, their eyes bulging at the door. The door swung open and there was, finally, the reason Siobhan had stayed. But not the reason the rest had. A chorus of disappointment and grumbles echoed as soon as it was clear that Jim Foley was yet to be seen. “Felix Mendoza,” Siobhan cooed, grabbing a blue sippy cup of milk for them. “We finally meet.” Her smile was lopsided, one white, sharp canine sticking out between her lips. She had endured torture just for this moment; just to meet them. When she saw their name on the tiny guest list, it was as if Fate had kissed her. “Milk?”

—

Felix didn’t get a lot of mail delivered to the Grit Pit. They hadn’t gotten a lot of mail delivered to their apartment, either, to be fair — mail was kind of dead, really, and mostly the things they found in their mailbox were thin cardboard postcards advertising car dealerships or coupon books with deals that, when you really looked at them, kind of sucked — but they got even less here. Part of it, they knew, was because they hadn’t really updated their address anywhere. They fully expected (or hoped) to be out of the boiler room in a matter of months, even if the time was passing them by quicker than they’d hoped with no real exit in sight. But, of course, there were other factors at play, too. Any mail they got was ‘inspected’ before it made its way to them, read over and discarded more often than not. Leo said he was doing them a favor. Felix, he claimed, was exactly the type to fall for some stupid scam. Maybe it wasn’t an unfounded accusation, but… there was something a little dehumanizing about it. People got mail, but Felix didn’t. It was just another entry in the long list of ways the Grit Pit made them feel less like someone who mattered.

All this to say, the envelope sitting on the chair in the corner of the boiler room with their name scrawled neatly on the front was… unexpected. Felix had approached it with a furrowed brow, had opened it cautiously as if it was a thing that might bite. But, instead of some cruel prank left by Leo and his friends or some quiet words of encouragement from Thea, the envelope contained an invitation. Better still, it contained an invitation that was of interest to Felix.

Baby’s Day Out was a strange comfort film to have. They’d figured that out pretty quickly, when they’d mentioned it in school one day and been met with a room full of blank stares. It was stranger still for a child to love the movie as much as Felix had, but he’d worn out no fewer than four VHS tapes before the film was rereleased on DVD seven years after its initial home theater release. They’d left the DVD behind when their father packed them all up, of course, and they’d never been able to find another copy. It was on streaming, but it didn’t feel the same. It didn’t have the special features, the director’s commentary, the featurette. Perhaps, they thought, this event would be selling copies.

And they really did want to meet the guy who played Old Soldier #3.

So, with little more thought on the matter, Felix had decided to attend the event. They’d put on their nicest button-up and a pair of khakis, they’d gone to the location specified, and they’d felt a sense of excitement flowing through them as they opened the door. From the way everyone looked at them, they weren’t the anticipated guest that had seen all eyes on the door. Except… there was one woman who was staring a little. It took Felix a moment to recognize her from her icon, and they offered her a small, uncertain smile as they approached. Hadn’t she disliked Baby’s Day Out? Why was she at the party? Maybe she’d changed her mind about it. It was the kind of movie you needed to see more than once to really appreciate, after all.

Felix glanced down at the cup in her hand, shaking their head. ��Oh, um, no thank you. I’m lactose intolerant, actually, so I can’t — Milk’s not really, uh, good for me. Um, did you change your mind? About Baby’s Day Out, I mean. Do you like it now?”

—

Perhaps she had underestimated Felix. Clearly a mastermind, they’d faked lactose intolerance to embarrass her with having to hold two sippy cups. Siobhan smiled, eye twitching. Of course this meeting of small-minded, fictional-baby-adoring people hadn’t opted for dairy-free alternatives; how could she prove Felix was purposefully deceiving her? In the war, they’d already won the first battle. “Yes, of course. So many humans lack the means to digest lactose. And yet, who was it that domesticated the poor cow?” Though it was a small assurance of superiority that she could digest it—she came from generations of cattle farmers, though they preferred more pretentious titles like “yogurt barons” or “cheese sovereigns”—it was an assurance she would take. Then, the second battle: a devastating first move delivered swiftly by Felix. By asserting that her appearance here must mean she liked this horrific movie, they expertly wounded her demeanor of nonchalance. Well played, Felix. “No, this movie was an insult to all of my senses.” Surely they had to know that she was here for them? To kill them? Did they forget the fact that she wanted to kill them? Ignorance was a strategy she hadn’t anticipated. She couldn’t outright say she was going to kill them, not while holding two sippy cups. With one sippy cup, perhaps. But two? Felix had clearly orchestrated this. Siobhan seethed. “I don’t like the film. I’m here for…someone special.” She winked. Obviously, she was referring to Felix, as she was sure they would pick-up on. She wouldn’t tell them that she’d initially mistaken the invitation for something else.

If they moved to a place where she could put down the sippy cups, then the glove could be thrown down. Siobhan gestured to the food table, adorned with baby-themed foods and several jars of baby food. “You must be hungry after all your…” She surveyed Felix’s outfit: disgustingly and disarmingly banal. Was being bland a part of Felix’s plan? “…arrival. Perhaps we should venture to the food table?” There was also a table of merchandise—shirts and the like—but the contents were so unappealing to Siobhan that the table was practically invisible to her attention. The food table, at least, was such an affront that she remembered it.

—

“Well, not just humans,” they said. Then, realizing that this might threaten to out them as something other than human, they blinked. “I mean, um, cats are lactose intolerant, too. And dogs! A lot of adult animals are. Um, something about enzymes. Your body stops producing them when you get older. I read — I read a paper about it, one time. To figure out why I was lactose intolerant.” That was a thing people did, right? Read papers? Felix felt so supremely out of their depth here. Siobhan was smart. He could tell just by the way she spoke, the way she carried herself. And Felix, as they’d been reliably informed time and time and time again, was not. Siobhan already seemed to dislike them, scorned by their suggestion that she watch a movie she evidently hadn’t enjoyed. Felix didn’t want to make her angrier at them, even if it seemed she’d warmed to Baby’s Day Out. Or… maybe she hadn’t. She was still saying she hated the film, claiming to be here for someone special instead. Felix’s eyes drifted to the poster behind her, the one advertising the event. As things clicked into place, they nodded. “Oooh,” they said, certainty washing over them like a warm ocean wave. “You want to meet Jim Foley. Has he been in other stuff? I’ve only ever seen him as Old Soldier #3, but I thought he did a really good job. He was my favorite of the Old Soldiers.”

Siobhan wanted to find a table, and Felix was a little surprised at the idea that she wanted to find a table with him. Maybe they’d misjudged her dislike of them. It was possible that Siobhan was just bad at making friends. If that was the case, didn’t Felix owe it to her to make things a little easier? They offered her a small smile, nodding their head. “We can go sit down,” they agreed. “I’m not really sure about the food, though. Baby food is so mushy, you know? I don’t really like how it feels in my mouth. Um, but maybe it tastes okay? We can try it! Which one do you want? I can grab you a spoon.”

—

Clearly an intelligent individual, Siobhan noted; reading papers and what not. She did not read papers. She read plenty of books, amalgamations of paper, but never the reported findings in medical and scientific papers themselves. Why was it that she waited until the writing was distilled into a book before she learned it? Felix was ahead of the curve. “Yes, I suppose some animals are lactose intolerant.” She seethed, squishing one of the sippy cups she held as she tried to maintain her thin smile. The plastic creaked in her hand and milk sputtered out, trailing down her arm. “Jim…Foley?” As the insinuation hooked deeper into her, her grip on the sippy cup continued to tighten. “He wasn’t even—Old Soldier #5 was clearly…no…I’m not…” They said it was such certainty that Siobhan almost believed that they believed that she was truly here to see an unknown actor. Of course, she knew better. Felix was playing a game with her, and of that she was extremely certain. Finally, the extra sippy cup burst into shards of thin plastic and splashes of warm milk. Wiping milk out of her eyes, she noticed that the entirety of the mess was on her and not a drop on Felix. That must’ve been the lactose intolerance, she thought bitterly.

Siobhan continued to drip milk, blinking at Felix. She could fathom only one thing worse than being here, being soaked with milk: eating baby food. Again, Felix had somehow anticipated her. “No, I’m not hungry,” she grumbled. “I don’t eat baby food. I don’t want to eat baby food. I am never going to desire baby food. Do not get me a spoon. Do I look like I need a spoon right now?” She also wasn’t going to admit that some of the fruit flavors sounded tasty; it was essentially applesauce, right?

—

Siobhan was holding her milk pretty tightly, and Felix wondered if she was worried someone might take it. They’d been later than she was to the event; maybe this was a problem that had been recurring throughout the time she’d been waiting. Felix cast a curious eye around the room, trying to determine if there were any obvious milk thieves among them, but it was hard to decipher based on looks alone. Milk thieves — they’re just like us! They offered Siobhan a smile they hoped was reassuring. “Rats aren’t lactose intolerant,” they offered. “Pigs, either. Oh! And, um, cebus monkeys. That one was really interesting to me. You don’t think about monkeys drinking milk, right?” They shifted their weight uncertainly as Siobhan squeezed the cup hard enough for milk to drip down her arm. “Oh, hey, yeah, Old Soldier #5 was good, too! Um, he was probably my second favorite Old Soldier. Old Soldier #1 is my least favorite, actually, which is kind of funny, but I —” The cup in her hand broke. Felix took a step back instinctively, wincing as it shattered. “Oh, man. I think there’s napkins over there. Well, I mean, they’re cloth diapers, technically, but you can use one as a napkin. Should I grab one for you? I don’t mind.”

She didn’t seem to be having very much fun. Felix wondered why she’d come, if she wasn’t a Foleyhead. (That was what fans of Jim Foley’s performance as Old Soldier #3 called themselves; Felix had read about it on a Baby’s Day Out fanpage.) Maybe she did like the film and was embarrassed by it, given her extreme insistence to the contrary. Felix tried to find a way to silently communicate that it was okay to like Baby’s Day Out. It was nothing to be embarrassed by, in any case. “That’s okay, too! The texture’s a little weird, I think. And some of the combos, too. Like, you don’t have to mix carrots with so many things, right? It’s bound to taste weird.” They paused. “I think I’m going to try it anyway, though. Just to see why babies like it so much. Are you sure you don’t want any? There’s one with coconut and garlic and, like, I gotta admit, I’m curious. You know?”

—

“Yes, I suppose…rats and pigs….sure.” Why did Felix know so much about milk? Siobhan didn’t care; mammals lactated and the young supped from their mothers. “I…do think about monkeys drinking milk.” Not often, of course. Was Felix trying to get her to admit she was some pervert who thought about mammalian lactation often? The milk drinking of animals wasn’t a consideration. “They are…mammals. Most mammals… All mammals…” She couldn’t say for certain that all mammals lactate; it wasn't a topic she knew much about. It could turn out that there were some species of whale that didn’t or rather, what did those egg-laying mammals do? Siobhan loathed not knowing things; her face burned hot at her own stupidity. Did Felix know that? Is that why they’d brought up lactation? Yes, her own education blind spot had been this and with great shame, once she was freed from this battle, she would have to read some books about lactation. Fates, Felix was a cruel fighter. “Some birds produce ‘crop milk’,” she offered, though it was not truly milk at all—or was it? Siobhan clearly didn’t know. She merely wanted a fact to communicate that she wasn’t stupid; she knew things about milk. “It doesn’t have carbohydrates,” she said. “No milk sugars. So, perhaps the title of ‘milk’ is more colloquial.” Siobhan couldn’t let Felix jump in with a correction and embarrass her.

Siobhan was rigid with anger, holding back the sharp desire to scream. Her tensed shoulders started to ache and her back—often a source of pain—burned along the spine. Yes, of course, instead of napkins they had cloth diapers. Yes, of course, what was Siobhan to do but accept the cloth diaper? It was there, it was absorbent, Felix knew this. Yet another scheme, she thought. Everything had been so perfectly crafted to infuriate her and only the smartest of minds could’ve facilitated her personal hell so acutely. Felix was a dangerous enemy to have. “Yes, fetch me a…” Siobhan shivered. “…diaper.” At least they were cloth, she thought. That was better for the environment, wasn’t it? She also didn’t know. Anything regarding babies was an additional blind spot. Fates, would she have to read books about them as well? If she had children of her own—as banshees were expected to, not that she wanted them—she would’ve taken her mother’s approach and let the child loose on their own. Yes, she’d turned out fine under her mother’s lack of early supervision, hadn’t she? Once she’d answered Fate’s call and was born anew, her mother’s attitude changed. As a child, in that useless time before the scream, she’d once heard a neighbor use an odd descriptor for it: neglect. Regardless, Siobhan never planned to know anything more about babies. Perhaps she’d simply ask Ingeborg instead of embarrassing herself at a bookstore.

“Carrots are nutritious,” she said, stiffly following Felix along. “They have fiber and are sweet, and so rather palatable to babies and do not upset their stomachs.” Maybe she didn’t need the baby knowledge after all; she tried to remember the things her grandmother had said, who was far more passionate about child care. She was always babbling some nonsense about how to take care of them. If Siobhan thought about it, that might’ve been a response to being incapable of taking care of her own, as Siobhan’s mother was one of three but never once spoke to her about siblings. But her grandmother was unwell and it was best not to think too long about why. The word ‘neglect’ sprung to mind again. “Yes, I’ll accompany you to the baby food,” Siobhan said, “but I don’t want any.” And she would never admit that coconut and garlic sounded extremely intriguing; that was halfway to a curry, she thought.

—

“Really?” Maybe Felix was the only one who didn’t think about monkeys drinking milk often. They wondered if they should ask Anita about it, or Wyatt. Maybe this was something they should be thinking about more. They nodded as Siobhan pointed out that most mammals drank milk. “That’s true, yeah! But most mammals lose their ability to tolerate milk after they’re weaned from their moms. It’s kind of interesting, when you think about it — humans are the only mammal that regularly consume lactose as adults! Unless they’re lactose intolerant, like me. But between you and me, sometimes I eat cheese, anyway. It’s good, you know? I like cheese, even if it makes me feel sick after.” Their eyes lit up as Siobhan continued, telling them about birds that apparently produced milk. “Oh, hey, that’s really cool! I didn’t know that. What species? Is it common for birds to do that, or are there just a few outliers out there?” If Siobhan didn’t want to talk about Baby’s Day Out — which was a little strange, considering she’d come to this Baby’s Day Out fan event — maybe they could still salvage the conversation by talking about birds. Felix liked birds, after all.

Offering Siobhan a small smile, Felix lead her towards the table with the cloth diapers. It also featured baby powder and diaper rash cream, though Felix doubted Siobhan would be needing any of that. “That makes sense. I guess babies do throw up a lot. Or, uh, spit up? I’m not sure why it’s called something different when babies do it.” They grabbed a few cloth diapers from the table. One at first, then two, then three. Looking at Siobhan and making note of the amount of milk she’d spilled — as well as the fact that her clothes seemed to be pretty fancy, by Felix’s standards, and perhaps in danger of staining if she didn’t see to the mess quickly — they added two more of the diapers to their grip, bringing the grand total up to five. Even if Siobhan didn’t need them all, Felix was sure they’d require a couple sooner or later. They had a tendency towards messiness, after all.

With the cloth diapers obtained, they made their way towards the baby food table, pleased that Siobhan seemed to have changed her mind enough to tag along. “You don’t have to eat any,” they assured her, though privately, they hoped she might try some. Their mother had always been adamant about expanding horizons, and wasn’t this a good way to do that? You could eat coconut and garlic separately, but you couldn’t know what they tasted like together without trying it. That was probably important. Stopping in front of the table, Felix grabbed a spoon and began browsing the jars. “The colors are fun,” they acknowledged, glancing towards Siobhan.”They’re all so bright. Do you think it gets like that naturally, or do they add dye to it? I mean, I know peas are pretty green, but this looks, like, super green.” They held up a jar of very green mush, labeled apple, spinach, asparagus, and peas. That was a lot of different components, wasn’t it? Felix popped open the jar.

—

Siobhan had started to think that Felix was an idiot, perhaps; the impression crawled into her brain between the discussion of lactation and watching them fetch diapers with a bizarrely honest resolve, as if they truly thought it would help. But if that was the case, it meant she had been bested by an idiot several times? No, this idiocracy must’ve been part of the battle; a ruse to have her doubting her senses. Siobhan knew she had too much pride to pretend to be stupid but the fact that Felix did so readily made them an enemy she couldn’t underestimate. “Pigeons,” she said dryly when Felix met her at the baby food table. “Pigeons produce crop milk.” Other birds as well, though she couldn’t name them, and didn’t want to. Surely Felix had no real interest in the lactation of animals, or in birds. Siobhan felt pushed out of her body, expelled from her own mind. “Woodpigeon,” she said. “We had…in Ireland. It’s large.” She mimicked the size with her hands. “There’s…a bird: the great tit. I thought…well, it’s funny, sure. Because…the name.” She felt like she was having a genuine conversation, without games, without meaning. She felt like a child, clumsily stumbling her way through her interests; she wanted to talk about birds, about bones, about plants and the fun things her and Jane had gotten up to all the while nervous that at any moment, interest would wane. A scolding was ever present upon the horizon but worse was the constant apathy.

But Jane had been dead for decades and this feeling—pathetic, embarrassing and vulnerable—must’ve been a piece of Felix’s plan. As a child, she could never entertain anyone’s interest for long. As an adult, her only goal was to entertain herself. She ought to get back to that. Siobhan straightened up. She took one of the cloth diapers and dabbed herself. She wished Old Soldier #3 would show up so she could run away. An exit now, without distraction, was surely rude, and Felix must’ve known this and used it to torment her. Siobhan paused in her dabbing. Why did she care at all if it was rude? It was the terrible atmosphere Felix had crafted: friendly, polite. “You wouldn’t give a baby food dye,” she grumbled, tossing away her diaper and grabbing another. “It’s just…if you blend enough green things together you get something green.” Why was she explaining this? The jar popped open and a gentle smell wafted around them. There was nothing questionable about baby food; it was by its nature bland but generally nutritious. Yet, the labeling of ‘baby’ turned the act into an oddity. Felix was doing this. Why? A power move?

Siobhan would not be humiliated like this; as though she was too much of a coward to engage. All this time, Felix had been humiliating her: talking to her about lactation and mammals and Baby’s Day Out and making her forget that she was here to kill them. She reached down and plucked an unappealing brown flavor: chicken and gravy. The ingredients were ground chicken, water and cornstarch. She popped it open, grabbed a spoon, and shoved the baby food into her mouth. With anger, she swallowed. It tasted like watery, unseasoned chicken. Much like her mother’s cooking. She slammed the jar back down. “What do you want?” She asked. “Don’t…” She drew her finger up. “Don’t you dare say you want to meet Jim Foley. We both know that isn’t true. What do you really want? I concede. I give up. You win. What do you want?”

—

“Oh, hey, that’s really cool! Pigeons are neat birds. You know they were one of the first animals domesticated by people? Which is — I mean, domesticating animals is cool and all, because it got us dogs and cats, but you gotta wonder, right, why they chose the animals they chose. Like, if people way back when had domesticated, uh — bears instead of wolves, or bats instead of pigeons, would everything look, like, totally different now?” They were rambling a little, and they knew it. It was hard not to. Sometimes, in moments like this, Felix felt as if they existed outside their own body, as if they were floating just above the conversation watching themself ramble on and on and on as their conversation partner’s interest waned. Siobhan probably didn’t want to hear about the history of domestication, but it was hard for Felix to force themself to stop in the middle of a sentence. They liked hearing her talk about birds, though. They wanted to hear more about the great tit, wanted to know about the woodpigeons. “Are the birds in Ireland really different than the ones here? I’ve never really been out of Maine, much less the United States, so I don’t really know as much about birds in other countries. I mean, I’ve googled, sure, but that’s different than seeing them, right? You can’t really understand a thing like that until you’ve seen it for yourself.

In a way, wasn’t that what it all boiled down to? There were so many things that Felix would never understand because there were so many things that Felix would never see. Their life was stagnant, stuck in Wicked’s Rest until Leo decided to have mercy on them or some other fighter took them out for good. Of the two possibilities, Felix had always known which was more likely. Leo was no more inclined towards mercy than a bear was towards domestication. They knew that. Glancing back to the very, very green goop, they shrugged and shoveled a small spoonful into their mouth. It tasted bland, especially considering how it looked. It didn’t quite taste like peas, or spinach, or asparagus, or apples. It didn’t really taste like all of the above, either. It was a faint, nothing taste. Felix was a little disappointed. “Well, I mean, I know you shouldn’t give babies food dye, but lots of food has dye in it anyway. Like fruit snacks! Babies love fruit snacks.”

Siobhan opened her own jar — a less pleasant, brown-colored mix — and Felix flashed her an encouraging smile. Maybe she’d like it; maybe the brown was better than the green. They watched as she opened it, watched her dip the spoon inside. Their expression asked a question, even if they didn’t voice it aloud. Is it good? Does it taste nice? But then, Siobhan was slamming the jar on the table, sending small bits of brown mush flying in all directions. Felix’s brow furrowed in quiet confusion as she questioned their intentions. “I mean, I do think it would be neat to meet Jim Foley,” they said uncertainly. “But I thought — We were talking about birds. I just thought we could hang out.”

—

The stupid act that Felix was putting on was surprisingly well-crafted: from all angles it was convincing. Of course, Siobhan knew better; this was all a part of Felix’s plan to put her off-kilter. Everything about them was perfectly designed to irritate her, everything about this event was the same. They’d done it. They were behind all of this. Getting her to watch the damned film in the first place with lies about how the baby would be productive to society and sending the invitation out and crafting a story about a society of fans for a film that could not—in any logical world—have any fans. She could even bet that Jim Foley wouldn’t show up. All of it, everything, was just a game. Of course the birds in Ireland were different from the ones in Maine, everyone knew that; Felix was pretending. “Domestication wasn’t so calculated. Opportunities arose, certain animals showed themselves to be useful and friendly, and domestication proceeded.” But Felix must’ve known that already. “And it is one of the most despicable things humans have done.” The image of the screaming red gash across her first slaughtered cow burst into her mind. Her jaw clenched. She didn’t like this game Felix had crafted.

But it would only end the moment she knew what they wanted. The mushy baby food obviously wasn’t for the children that progressed to solids, but Felix must’ve known. Their idiotic comment about the dyes… how devious of them. Just enough to wedge under her skin. And the answer, the simple answer she wanted, spat on with a lie: I just thought we could hangout. After her outburst, after admitting she gave up, they still continued. It was obvious—just like everything else—Siobhan was not someone to hangout with. Siobhan laughed. Perhaps she was the idiot for assuming that someone this calculated would let her go. They wanted to break her mind and they had succeeded but she still had a chance to deny them the satisfaction of seeing it through. If she played along, they wouldn’t win.

Siobhan smiled—not as she usually did with a sharp, lopsided motion—but softly, pleasantly. She searched her mind for an older version of herself, wings on her back and free of scars, who still had the patience to fake amicability. “Sorry,” she said. “Yes, the birds in Ireland are quite different. Different species evolved in different areas, though I suppose the answer to your question also depends on what you find different enough. Some birds’ migratory patterns might have them flying great distances, but I don’t know of any specifically that travel through Maine and Ireland. If I were to hazard a guess…” she continued, as though she cared at all to explain this, as though she believed Felix didn’t know. She could hear her own saccharine voice and hated it. “…perhaps the Arctic Tern? That one, then, would be the same.” She felt wrong. She wondered if that was just the milk she was still soaked with.

“You could birdwatch,” she suggested, hating every syllable. Friendly meant helpful and Siobhan was neither by nature. “The birds you see around you have traveled long and seen many wonderful things and if you watch them, maybe you’ll see a little of the world in them. Birds come down from Canada, up from Venezuela–for example. It’s possible a bird is not native to Maine at all, or the United States.” Siobhan set down her milky diapers. “Regardless, Felix, I don’t believe it matters how many country lines you personally cross. A home is a place of its own ceaseless wonder and worldliness means nothing if you cannot appreciate your home.” Or return to it. “Maine is a beautiful state and you mustn’t think your life has less value for being contained within it. If it is your desire to travel, you should, but I cannot agree with any notion that suggests your life is inferior for the lack of boxes it has checked, so to speak.” It was inferior for a myriad of other reasons. Siobhan realized she sounded stiff, she felt stiff; another by-product of the milk, she guessed.

She sighed, now came the part of politeness that she especially loathed: asking someone about themself. “Do you have a favorite bird?” She asked through clenched teeth. “How was your green baby food?” If this was what it took to ensure Felix didn’t get a final victory over her, Siobhan wasn’t sure she could play along for much longer.

—

Siobhan was smart. It was hard not to be impressed with the library of information she seemed to have such easy access to in her mind. She knew about birds, she knew about domestication, she knew about babies’ dietary restrictions. Felix thought they could probably learn a lot from Siobhan, but it felt a little selfish to ask her to teach them anything more than she was willing to offer offhand, so they only nodded. “That’s cool that you know all that.” They tended to agree that domestication wasn’t great, though mostly because of their own… connection with wildlife. It was far easier to see things from an animal’s point of view when you had one living inside of you, wasn’t it? They wondered where Siobhan’s thoughts stemmed from, wondered if there was more to it than what she was saying aloud. Asking would be rude, so they didn’t. They only nodded, offering their silent agreement.

For a moment, they feared that even doing everything in their power to achieve politeness hadn’t been enough. They said they thought that maybe the two of them could hang out, and Siobhan laughed. Felix frowned, wondering if it was a silly notion to begin with. There were probably far better people here to hang out with than Felix, weren’t there? There was a man in the corner dressed as a giant baby who probably had far better stories to tell, a woman decked out in Baby’s Day Out merchandise, including a giant foam finger with Baby Bink’s face on it, who could certainly offer more fun facts about the movie than Felix themself. And Jim Foley was on his way. Siobhan would probably much rather hang out with Jim Foley than Felix, who had never been in Baby’s Day Out at all.

They felt self conscious, and prepared to excuse themself to go stand somewhere else until Jim Foley arrived. But then, Siobhan smiled in a way that seemed friendly. She started talking about birds and migratory habits, and Felix felt themself relax. They smiled back, listening as she spoke and making note of every word. Siobhan knew a lot about birds; Felix liked learning more. “The Arctic Tern? That sounds like one that would like more… arctic climates. Do they just fly through Maine and Ireland, or do they actually live here? I never thought of Wicked’s Rest as being cold enough for something like that, even if the winters do kind of suck sometimes.” They were engaged in the conversation fully, eager to know more about birds and what Siobhan might think of them. Did she like Arctic Terns? Did it make her homesick, seeing birds that flew through Ireland fly through Maine, too? Felix felt nostalgic sometimes looking at cardinals, which their mother had loved. Did Siobhan have any birds here that made her feel the same? Or was she cut off from them entirely, free from the bitter ache of nostalgia but unable to access the sweeter parts of it as well?

“I don’t know that I’d be much good at it,” they admitted. “Birdwatching, I mean. I know you’re supposed to be still and quiet for things like that, and neither of those are really my specialty. But maybe I could give it a try. You’re right, those birds have stories to tell. We should all be listening to them a little more closely!” Was watching birds, who had traveled from places they’d never seen and to places they’d never go, comparable to making those journeys themself? Felix was stuck where they were, as grounded as the trees rooted into the ground. The birds could build nests within the branches, but it wasn’t quite the same as the tree seeing what the world had to offer for itself. And Felix longed for that. They wanted freedom, wanted to be able to come and go as they pleased, wanted more. All the things Felix wanted were things they knew they’d never get. That hurt far more than they were willing to admit. “Home,” they repeated quietly. “Yeah.” The boiler room didn’t fit the word; they weren’t even sure Wicked’s Rest did. But what could be done about it? There was nothing else for Felix, who would never be permitted to leave. They knew that.

They didn’t notice the strain of Siobhan’s voice as she asked the question; Felix was, mostly, just happy for a change in subject. They hummed as they considered their answer, thinking of all the birds they knew. “My mom loved cardinals,” they replied. “But I don’t know. I always thought great horned owls were really cool. They just look neat, you know? What about you? Do you have a favorite bird?” Glancing down at the jar of baby food, they shrugged. “A little bland,” they admitted. “How about yours?”

—

Siobhan gave up again. She could tell Felix wanted to say more, or rather, had things they weren’t saying. After everything she said, all her useless prattling about birds—which may not have been accurate at all—she’d expected more. To her wealth of knowledge, Felix only said it was cool. Why were they like this? At what point did they give up and stop taunting her? She shook her head and tried to stay the course. Knowledge was a useful tool; an edge to gain against everyone else. Her mother believed it was necessary to amass as much of it—there were so many things she knew, yet she never once answered Siobhan’s curiosities. She wasn’t so eager to flaunt herself, to preen and be washed by praise. Even though her great-great-grandmother readily offered answers, there was never a hint of arrogance in her voice. Neither of them used their knowledge the way Siobhan did. The only thing left for her to cling to was the simple fact that she could learn more things in her centuries than any human could attempt to. If she was wiser than the person she was speaking to, then she maintained an untouchable value. She could be robbed of her wings, her dignity, her beauty but not her mind.

Yet, it was still strange to watch someone soak in her knowledge as though filled with genuine curiosity. Siobhan hadn’t sought knowledge with pure intentions since she was a child trying to understand her strange world. If part of Felix’s game involved the chance for her to show-off, then it was probably a ploy. Still, she liked doing it. “Yes, I’m not sure it really lived there but a home is different to a bird. Some birds have many homes, some, just one. In Ireland, you saw it off in the sea. I think they bred there, I’m not sure.” I’m not sure—would she have offered such a confession if Felix wasn’t so skilled at faking interest? She only knew things about the Arctic Tern because she’d desired their bones. If Felix knew more about this than her, they weren’t letting on and they certainly weren’t correcting her and it was agonizing to speak to someone who wasn’t trying to win. Of course they were, but they were good at pretending they weren’t.

She almost wished she was talking to the man dressed as the baby instead. At least he would be an idiot; she knew how to deal with idiots. Siobhan shook her head again. “Birdwatching doesn’t take anything special.” Or so she thought, at least. The title made it sound simple enough. “I’m sure you could start if you desired.” What more did it take that watching birds and cataloging it? Birds weren’t known for their ability to hide, were they? There certainly were some—the Canada goose—that she wished—Canada goose—would hide more—Canada goose. Certain birds that waddled with authority. Of all the animals that had adapted to living among humans, in human civilizations, she’d never seen one so domineering. The rat, the raccoon, and the coyote all seemed to carry a sense of shame and a desire for secrecy. Her distaste came from the previous year, when one nested on her farm, hissed at the dog and caused the dog to whine at her about it. Every day, the dog complained to her about the geese’s lack of desire to play. Much like her, she supposed. Then the dog was heartbroken when it left with its new family. There was something in the nature of human-adapted birds that made them brazen. …Why was she thinking about this?

Home seemed like a sore topic for Felix, their quietness about it screamed at her like a flashing alarm, but she didn’t care to know more and so didn’t inquire. “Cardinals,” she repeated. Was that an actual fact or a lie for the game? Why were they actually having a conversation about birds? In this baby-themed room? Siobhan wanted it all to end. When was Jim Foley coming? “Yes, an owl. Wonderful creature, great tufts.” She didn’t have the bones of that one. “I’ve always been fond of magpies. Common and annoying yes but…” She trailed off. She remembered why she didn’t act like this more often: it was horribly boring. “Horrifically bland.” She glanced around, eager for something—anything—that was more interesting. “Look, Felix,” she started, gesturing to the merchandise table. “Maybe we should go there? It’s clear Jim Foley isn’t—”

The doors creaked open. Anticipation coursed through the room. Finally, there was Jim Foley himself, Old Soldier #3. Everyone flocked to him. Siobhan was flooded with relief and she nearly toppled over with the force of it. She clutched the baby food table. “I suppose you’ll want to go to him now.”

—

Curiosity was a thing that had clung to Felix since childhood. Maybe there were jokes that could be made of that — old phrases about curiosity and cats that could be flung around with quiet ease, comparisons to housecats tangled up in yarn as penance for their curious nature — but that did little to stifle the feeling. Felix didn’t consider themself to be particularly intelligent, knew that few would argue against such a claim, but they still liked to learn things. They liked to turn the television to documentaries and consume every word from the narrator’s mouth so that they could regurgitate it later, spitting out half-digested facts just to see where they landed to people who didn’t typically care much. Later, they’d probably do a deep dive on everything Siobhan was saying. They’d learn more and more about the birds’ migratory patterns, about why they roosted where they did and what made them fly in the direction they flew. They might reach back out to her, might tell her what they learned and see if she had any thoughts on it.

But for now, they only listened. They made quiet notes of everything she said, thinking of birds and their nature, thinking of how home meant something different to a bird than it did to Felix and that neither of them were wrong in their thinking. They thought of those birds in Ireland, mating somewhere far from where they’d be in a few months’ time. “Do you think they miss it?” They questioned, fiddling absently with one of the cloth diapers they were still holding. “When they’re not in Ireland, do you think they miss it? And — And when they are in Ireland, do you think they miss wherever it is they’ve left? I think… If more than one place is home, it means you’re never really home at all, doesn’t it? You can’t be. Not unless you can be in more than one place at a time.” And that was tragic, in a sense, wasn’t it? To belong everywhere meant you belonged nowhere, too. Maybe it wasn’t so bad, not knowing where you belonged at all. At least it meant you had a chance to find out someday.

They hummed, thinking it was nice that Siobhan seemed to believe in them. If they wanted to, she said, they could start birdwatching. Wasn’t that a nice thought? Wasn’t it nice to think that the only thing that stood between Felix and certain things was a desire to pursue them? “Maybe I’ll try it,” they said. “Buy some binoculars and a book and go into the woods. Would you want to come with me? We could find the Arctic terns, when they’re here instead of Ireland.” Would it feel like home, for Siobhan? How much familiarity did a thing need to carry for it to come as a comfort instead of a painful feeling of nostalgia?

Nodding, they thought of the way their mother’s face used to light up with the flash of red that flew through the snow out the window. “The colors are pretty,” they said. They didn’t know much about cardinals beyond that, and they didn’t think their mother had, either. Maybe they didn’t need to. Maybe it was enough for a thing to exist and to be beautiful; maybe some things could be loved just because the brightness of the red against the snow made someone you loved smile once. But they liked owls better. Once, it had seemed a traitorous thing to admit, but they didn’t mind saying it to Siobhan now. “They’re called plumicorns,” they offered. “The tufts. I read that once. And – And they live in a lot of different climates. I don’t think they live in Ireland, but they probably could.” Magpies. It wasn’t the answer they’d expected, but they smiled anyway. A magpie wasn’t exotic or brightly colored or exceptional, and they liked that Siobhan liked them anyway. Not everything had to be. “I like magpies. I think they’re cool.” They glanced towards the merch table, nodding with one last look towards the door. If Jim Foley skipped out, they wouldn’t be too upset.

But then, the door opened. Jim Foley stepped in, looking a lot older than he had in Baby’s Day Out but squeezed into the costume he’d worn in the film all the same. The crowd flocked to him, but Felix hesitated. Maybe Jim Foley wasn’t the coolest person you could talk to at a Baby’s Day Out fan event. They turned back to Siobhan with a small smile and a shrug. “You were right, I think. Old Soldier #5 was cooler, anyway. Do you want more milk?”

—

With a child’s hand, it was easy to reach into the world and question. Why this? How come? Why that? When did? Everything was new then and so many answers were beyond that grasp. Curiosity was the response of living but her hands had grown and she wasn’t a child anymore. She sustained now: she ate, she slept, she obeyed her bodily functions but she didn’t dare nourish them. Siobhan watched Felix’s face, searching it for a hint of deceit. No one could be so charmed. No one could maintain such curiosity. It was beaten out of you, it always was. They told you to shut up. They told you simple lies to quiet the mind. You learned ridicule; you stopped being curious. Where was that inside Felix’s eyes? Or their simple questions? More than anything else, it was this that unnerved her: Felix held something she had lost a long time ago, and could never hope to have again.

“Of course they miss it,” she said, staring at her warped reflecting in the baby food. “Of course they miss Ireland. They wouldn’t come back, year after year and generation after generation, if they didn’t.” Did the minds of those Arctic Terns nest on the memories of Ireland as she did? Of course she missed it, it was her home. “I think you miss every place that means something. I think you miss every place you go.” She loved the birds here, silly as it was. The birds of North America continued to charm her. The magpies of her home chirped and sang but the gobble of the wild turkey and—yes—the honk of the Canada Goose charmed her still. Wherever her gaze landed, there was life. Such was true of the whole world, she reasoned, but she didn’t live in the whole world, she lived here. Of course she missed this place too, she wouldn’t have returned otherwise.

Would she want to come? “Yes,” she answered without thinking, robbed of the usual logical rejections that spring out like the quills of a porcupine. “I would like that.” Maybe they would find those damned Arctic Terns, or maybe they’d find a Cardinal. Maybe a turkey. Maybe a Blue Jay. She would like to remind herself of the beauty of the world. It was so easy to forget it.

She took Felix’s correction with tender grace, unbecoming of her. She met their eyes. She nodded and soaked their knowledge in and repeated the word to herself like a child: “Plumicorn.” Now she knew what it was called and the next time she found the bones of an owl, she’d remember this moment and Felix and know that her life was a little richer for the knowledge that it was a plumicorn. How terrible, Siobhan thought, she really had lost the game Felix was playing; she liked them in an honest way, thinking that this was who they were naturally. Oh, but that wasn’t true. As with everything else, there was the trick: her mother’s volcanic anger; her grandmother’s fragile moods; her great-grandmother’s punitive silence; her great-great-grandmother’s inexplicable laughter; Felix’s lie, waiting for her. And yet, the dominating thought on her mind was a simple thing: that sounded like ‘unicorn’. Wasn’t that remarkable?

Siobhan expected them to go—she wanted them to go—but they stayed and she couldn’t find the winning angle there. For the second time today, they won. For the first time today, Siobhan smiled honestly. “I would like more milk,” she said.

#banisheed #siobhan: baby's day out (1994)#wickedswriting

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archivedjuice · 1 year ago

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idk what tumblr did in the last update but my activity feed is so messed up. the new notifications used to be there once you clicked on the tab but now you have to manually refresh it if you want to see them. and even then the little bubble at the top of the activity feed doesn't go away after you've refreshed it. you have to refresh it again & exit the tab for it to go away. and my tumblr phone notifications have been messed up for probably a year now where the notifications don't disappear after you've checked the activity feed, you have to manually delete them. and you dont get notifications for manually posted posts anymore which sucks because i liked when i got the confirmation that would disappear after a few seconds. this app just sucks in tiny ways

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newstfionline · 1 year ago

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Wednesday, February 21, 2024

High-profile Republicans head for the exits amid House GOP dysfunction (CNN) The GOP is facing a grand old exodus as the House of Representatives continues to struggle through one of the most turbulent sessions of Congress ever. So far, the 118th Congress has seen a historically-long race for speaker, the ousting of that speaker, an expulsion of a member, and a multitude of failed votes despite the GOP’s majority. 23 GOP Representatives have resigned or declared that they won’t be running for re-election, including five House committee chairs. Some Republicans are not concerned. “Brain drain? Why don’t you survey the country and see if there is any brain to drain in Congress. Congress has a 20% approval rating. Most of what we do to the country is bad,” said House Freedom Caucus Chairman Bob Good. “I think the retirements are a wonderful thing … I have no concerns, zero concerns. We probably need a few more retirements.”

The Great Compression: Smaller Houses (NYT) America is the land of the free, the home of the brave, and the country where everything is just bigger. At least, that used to be true—now, as the cost of materials, land, and mortgages continue to rise, people are looking into smaller and smaller houses for a chance at home ownership. Builders have begun constructing ever-smaller homes (sometimes the size of studio apartments) in recent years as part of an effort to tap into the first-time home buyer market. “Their existence is telling,” said one economist. “All the uncertainty over the past few years has just reinforced the desire for homeownership, but land and material prices have gone up too much. So something has to give, and what builders are doing now is testing the market and asking what is going to work.” Suburban developments across the country have joined the trend, building more 800-square-foot “tiny homes” and cutting back on the 2,000-square-foot, two-story cul-de-sac houses that Americans have been sold for decades.

Why some travelers are skipping the US: ‘You guys are not afraid of this?’ (USA Today) What Uneaka Daniels experienced the last couple of times she was in the United States was enough to keep her away for a long time. Bermuda-born and raised Daniels was in Atlanta in 2019 and decided to get her hair done. On her way to the salon, she stopped a man to ask for directions. Suddenly, everyone ducked. It was a drive-by. “I could actually see the gun and see it being fired,” she told USA TODAY. “The people on the street acted…as if it didn’t happen, and I’m here trying to crouch behind a tree. I said, ‘You guys are not afraid of this,’ and he said, ‘It happens so often.’” Besides this experience and another, Daniels has been turned off by the U.S. due to the rise of mass shootings and rates of homelessness. For the past four years, she’s avoided travel to the U.S. A growing number of international travelers are opting out of trips to the U.S. There were 12 million fewer visitors in 2023 than in 2019, according to a recent study by the U.S. Travel Association and EuroMonitor International. The U.S. ranked 17th out of the top 18 travel markets, slotting in just above China, with one major factor being safety following visa time barriers and the strength of the U.S. dollar.

Pro-Israel group targets Post reporter (Semafor) Pro-Israel groups, deeply critical of American news outlets such as the Washington Post over their coverage of the war in Gaza, have been working in public and behind-the-scenes to discredit specific journalists seen as biased against Israel. The 10/7 Project, a consortium of five Jewish organizations, has been keeping tabs on reporters that it felt were reporting and tweeting unfairly about Israel, and putting pressure on major national news organizations to punish or remove these reporters from the beat. In particular, the group has singled out the Washington Post and its foreign correspondent Louisa Loveluck, who has covered the war in Gaza with an emphasis on Palestinian civilians impacted by the violence. The group has compiled a dossier complaining about everything from her current reporting to her past tweets and participation in college activism against tuition fees in the UK in an effort to get her taken off the story of Israel’s war with Hamas.

Afghans blocked from UK by special forces’ veto (BBC) Afghan commandos accompanied British special forces on some of the most dangerous missions of the war in Afghanistan. When the Taliban swept to power in August 2021, soldiers in these units were among the groups most at risk of reprisals. They were eligible to apply for resettlement to the UK. But leaked documents seen by the BBC show UK special forces rejected hundreds of applications, despite some containing compelling evidence of service alongside the British military. Dozens have reportedly been beaten, tortured, or killed by the Taliban since. “I was sure that my British colleagues and friends, who we worked for several years alongside, would help me to evacuate to safety. Now I feel that the sacrifices I made have been forgotten,” one told the BBC. “I have been left alone in the midst of hell.” At the time the applications were vetoed, UK Special Forces were at the centre of an independent inquiry, to which Afghan Special Forces members could have been asked to provide evidence, had they been in the UK.

How much is a baby worth? A $75,000 bonus, this South Korean firm says. (Washington Post) Successive South Korean governments have tried pretty much everything to try to persuade women to have babies. Now corporate South Korea is getting in on the act, trying to stave off a demographic crisis that could see the country’s workforce halve within 50 years. Some are pledging millions of dollars in bonuses for their staff who become parents. “We will continue to do what we can as a company to solve the low-birth issue,” Lee Joong-keun, the chairman of Booyoung Group, a Seoul-based construction company, said last week after awarding a total $5.25 million to his employees for 70 babies born since 2021. Both male and female employees at Booyoung are eligible for a $75,000 payout each time they have a baby—no strings attached. This development has come about as South Korea’s fertility rate—the average number of children a woman has over her lifetime—has plummeted to be the lowest in the world, at 0.78 in 2022. That means the population is aging rapidly. By 2072, half the population will be over 65—meaning companies big and small will have trouble finding people of working age to employ.

The sailor straining US-Japan relationship (BBC) US Navy officer Ridge Alkonis was sentenced in Japan to three years jail in 2021 for killing two Japanese citizens in a car accident. His release on parole from a US prison after less than two years, following a pressure campaign from his family, drew public anger in Japan. The incident highlighted the resentment and frustration Japanese people hold against the 54,000 US servicemen in the country. Since the US-Japan Status of Forces Agreement (SOFA) was inked in 1960—enabling the deployment of US military forces in the country—there have been hundreds of criminal cases involving US military personnel. Few have forgotten the infamous 1995 incident where three servicemen raped a 12-year-old Okinawan girl, sparking months-long protests.

Israel May Put New Restrictions on Visiting Aqsa Mosque as Ramadan Nears (NYT) The Israeli government was locked in debate on Monday on whether to increase restrictions on Muslims’ access to an important mosque compound in Jerusalem during the holy month of Ramadan, leading to predictions of unrest if the limits are enforced. On Sunday, Israeli cabinet ministers debated whether to bar some members of Israel’s Arab minority from attending prayers at the Aqsa Mosque compound, according to the two officials. Israel has long limited access to Al Aqsa for Palestinians from the Israeli-occupied West Bank, and since the start of the war in Gaza, it has imposed extra restrictions on Arab citizens and residents of Israel. Some had hoped those limits would be largely lifted for Ramadan, which is expected to begin around March 10—but the talk now is of increasing them, instead. Dan Harel, a former deputy chief of staff in the Israeli military, said in a radio interview that such a move would be “unnecessary, foolish and senseless” and might “ignite the entire Muslim world.” One Arab Israeli lawmaker, Waleed Alhwashla, said on social media that it would be “liable to pour unnecessary oil on the fire of violence.”

Israel orders new evacuations in northern Gaza, where UN says 1 in 6 children are malnourished (AP) Israel ordered new evacuations from parts of Gaza City on Tuesday, as a study led by the U.N. children’s agency found that one in six children are acutely malnourished in the isolated and largely devastated north of the territory, where the city is located. The report finds deepening misery across the territory, where Israel’s air and ground offensive, launched in response to Hamas’ Oct. 7 attack, has killed over 29,000 Palestinians, obliterated entire neighborhoods and displaced more than 80% of the population. On Tuesday, the military ordered the evacuation of the Zaytoun and Turkoman neighborhoods on the southern edge of Gaza City, an indication that Palestinian militants are still putting up stiff resistance in areas of northern Gaza that the Israeli military said had been largely cleared weeks ago.

Crew abandon UK-registered cargo ship after Houthi attack off Yemen (BBC) On Sunday night, a Belize-flagged, British-registered cargo vessel was struck by Houthi missiles, causing the crew to abandon ship. According to security firms, the ship was carrying “very dangerous,” highly explosive fertilizer. A spokesman for the Houthis has claimed that the ship was forced to a “complete halt” thanks to the attack, and the owners are reportedly considering towing the vessel.

Big stink in Cape Town (AP) What stinks? Authorities in Cape Town launched an investigation Monday after a foul stench swept over the South African city. City officials inspected sewage facilities for leaks and an environmental health team was activated before the source of the smell was discovered: a ship docked in the harbor carrying 19,000 live cattle from Brazil to Iraq. The ship was due to depart soon, likely to the relief of residents.

When Eyes in the Sky Start Looking Right at You (NYT) For decades, privacy experts have been wary of snooping from space. They feared satellites powerful enough to zoom in on individuals, capturing close-ups that might differentiate adults from children or suited sunbathers from those in a state of nature. Now, quite suddenly, analysts say, a startup is building a new class of satellite whose cameras would, for the first time, do just that. “We’re acutely aware of the privacy implications,” Topher Haddad, head of Albedo Space, the company making the new satellites, said in an interview. His company’s technology will image people but not be able to identify them, he said. Anyone living in the modern world has grown familiar with diminishing privacy amid a surge security cameras, trackers built into smartphones, facial recognition systems, drones and other forms of digital monitoring. But what makes the overhead surveillance potentially scary, experts say, is its ability to invade areas once seen as intrinsically off limits. “This is a giant camera in the sky for any government to use at any time without our knowledge,” said Jennifer Lynch, general counsel of the Electronic Frontier Foundation. “We should definitely be worried.”

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