#she's wearing her hat backwards...she's so cool...

[rosecandyart]

NEW DAISY OUTFIT SPOTTED (credit to the person at the top of the screenshot)

[mcybank]

SCORSESE BABY DADDY [ — Rafe Cameron x Fem!Reader ]

When Rafe Cameron uprooted his life for the better and moved away from Kildare, you came as a product he believed meant he made the right choice. Now, you are at the Cameron's family dinner and Rafe is at risk of you learning about a past he was commited to leaving behind.

cw: emotional repression, father issues (ward cameron), self-sabotage in a yearning way, post-dinner spiral, one (1) scared boy being loved anyway, unresolved guilt, healthy communication disguised as casual conversation, toothbrush intimacy, crying into girlfriend’s shoulder (strategic), touch starvation recovery arc, character study disguised as fluff n hurt/comfort, healing (against his will), risotto (bad), rafe cameron being the saddest and most annoying boy alive

a/n: if you enjoyed this u might potentially enjoy (self-promo so sorry) my rafe fic on wp :)) i have 10k words written out for it already waiting to be posted and it's gonna be a longlong ride!!

When Rafe was eleven, he spent an entire summer teaching Wheezie how to hold her breath underwater. She'd follow him to the pool like a little barnacle, limbs all uncoordinated and eyelashes clumped from sunscreen. Everytime she came up too early, he'd flick water at her and make her do it again.

"You can't just bail 'cause it's too hard," he'd tell her, chest puffed like a coach, then he'd sneak her an orange Gatorade under the lounge chairs and let her wear his hat backward so she'd feel cool.

Rose and Ward never watched from the balcony. They never asked who taught her how to swim. But Rafe did it anyway, again and agaiin, day after day, until her kicks got cleaner and her timing got better and she could stay long enough to pretend she was someone else entirely.

He hadn't thought about that summer in years. Not until tonight when you reached for his hand under the white tablecloth and squeezed it once, like you could feel it too. That old ache and quiet question in him that never quite left: Did it all still turn out wrong?

You smiled at Wheezie across the table. Told her she looked pretty. And Rafe felt something ease at the base of his neck, something old and tight and coiled.

He hadn’t thought about that summer in years. The one where she still wore floaties and called him “coach,” back when he thought maybe being good at taking care of her was the same thing as being good. Back before anyone expected anything else.

Ward poured himself another glass of wine and said, “Still can’t believe they let you back in here after that mess at the bar. Guess it helps to have friends in real estate.”

It landed like nothing. Barely a wrinkle in the tablecloth of conversation. No one paused. No one flinched. Except Rafe. Slightly.

You turned toward him, just barely. “What mess?”

His jaw flexed. “It was years ago.”

You waited, softly. “What happened?”

He didn’t answer, but his fork scraped the plate a little harder than before. Across from you, Wheezie was suddenly very interested in her water glass.

Ward went on, still smiling. “You know what the real problem was? Not the broken nose, not the broken window. It was that smug little look on your face, like you thought you were entitled to break things. That’s what scared people.” He laughed like it was funny now.

You felt Rafe’s hand stiffen under yours. Just enough to know it wasn’t the first time he’d heard it. And maybe not the worst thing that had ever been said to him.

Ward finally turned his attention to you, shifting in his seat with the posture of someone who believed charm was a currency and he’d never once been denied a loan. “So. You’re the reason he came back for the weekend.”

You smiled, polite. “He said his sister had a swim meet.”

Wheezie didn’t look up from her water glass.

Ward hummed, clearly unconvinced. “Right. And you go to Duke, too?"

“I do,” you said, not unkindly.

“Duke,” Ward repeated, as if the word tasted good in his mouth. “God, finally. Someone at this table who might actually graduate with honors.”

It was delivered like a compliment. Rafe, across from him, didn’t react. You felt his hand go cool.

“English major,” you added, hoping to pivot the conversation somewhere easier. “And art history minor.”

Ward gave a short laugh, turned to Rose. “Well, she’ll at least know what to hang on the walls.”

Rose smiled thinly. “We could use some taste around here.”

“I like her,” Ward said then, like you weren’t sitting right there. Like he was sealing something. “She’s composed. Level-headed. You could learn from that, Rafe.”

Still no response.

You turned slightly in your chair, your thigh brushing against Rafe’s under the table. His jaw was tight. Not clenched. Contained. His water glass was half full, untouched.

Ward leaned back, gesturing broadly with his wine. “You know, I had my doubts. Kid goes off to school, I think—finally. Fresh start. Clean slate. Then I hear you’ve got a girl. First thought? Poor thing.”

You raised an eyebrow, unsure if he expected a laugh.

“But I’ve got to say,” Ward continued, “he did alright. Even if he’s still figuring out what not to set on fire.”

That got a small sound out of Rafe—something between a scoff and a breath. He sat back in his chair and folded his arms.

“You done?” he said.

Ward smiled. “Just catching up.”

You looked at Rafe then, watching him carefully. There was something simmering just behind his stillness, like a held breath too long underwater. You’d never seen him like this. Not quite. He’d told you bits about growing up here—never whole stories, just outlines. His past, you were starting to realize, was shaped more by what he didn’t say.

The first time you stayed over, it wasn’t planned. You’d come over to study, except Rafe had gotten bored halfway through your flashcards and started tossing pens at your notebook. Then you fell asleep on top of him mid-sentence—mouth slightly open, legs tangled in the blanket he swore he didn’t use but always had on his bed. When you woke up hours later, still groggy and confused, you found him lying stiff as a board next to you, arms folded behind his head like he didn’t know what to do with the rest of his body. “You drool,” he said, deadpan, staring at the ceiling. “You hog the blanket,” you replied, voice scratchy. “I gave you my blanket,” he said. “Which is basically a declaration of love. Don’t make it weird.” You blinked at him. He still hadn’t looked at you. Then, after a beat: “You can stay, by the way. I mean. If you want. Not forever, obviously. Jesus.” You smiled, rolled onto your side to face him. “Are you nervous?” “Me? No,” he scoffed, finally glancing at you. “You’re the one who clung to me like a koala all night. Hope you didn’t imprint.” But later, when you drifted back to sleep, you felt him shift closer. A hand on your hip. His voice was low, almost a whisper: “I don’t snore, by the way. In case you were wondering.”

You weren’t.

You were sitting on his floor, cross-legged in his boxers and your own hoodie, eating cereal out of a measuring cup because all of his bowls were “in the sink,” which actually meant on his desk, under three empty Gatorade bottles and a protein bar wrapper.

“Why do you have three forks and one spoon?” you asked, holding the spoon like it was evidence in a trial.

“Because people don’t steal forks at parties,” he said, flopped out on his bed like he hadn’t moved in an hour. “Spoons, though. Everyone wants a spoon. It’s the intimacy of it.”

You looked up. “Did you just say spoons are intimate?”

He smirked. “Yeah. Think about it. Forks are aggressive. You stab with a fork. You cradle with a spoon. One’s for violence, one’s for trust.”

You stared at him. “You’re actually insane.”

He rolled over, arm dangling off the side of the bed, eyes half-lidded and lazy. “Tell that to the spoon you’re using right now, thief.”

You tossed a pillow at his head. He caught it midair—smug—and then, in the most casual voice possible, said, “You look good like that, by the way.”

You blinked. “Like what?”

He shrugged. “Wearing my boxers. Eating cereal. Ruining my cutlery system.”

You didn’t know what to say. So you looked back down at your cereal like it wasn’t the best thing anyone had ever said to you.

A second later, he added, quieter, not looking at you. “You could keep some stuff here, if you wanted.” Then, louder, he continued, “Not like—drawers. But, like. A toothbrush. Or whatever.”

You didn’t respond right away. Just smiled into your spoon. Cradling it.

It started when you offered to make him a playlist. Just something to listen to while he studied—mostly as a joke, because you’d caught him using the “Beast Mode: Workout 2019” Spotify default for everything from walking to brushing his teeth.

“I don’t trust other people’s music taste,” he said, scrolling aimlessly through his phone.

“Even mine?” you asked, dramatically wounded.

He shrugged. “You like sad girl shit.”

You crawled into his lap and draped yourself across him like a human protest sign. “Sad girl shit has range, thank you.”

He rolled his eyes but didn’t push you off. Just rested his hand on the back of your thigh and mumbled, “Fine. One playlist. But if there’s a single ukulele song on it, I’m blocking your number.”

You made it later that night, half serious. Some of your favorites. Some songs you thought he might secretly like if no one was watching. You sent it with no caption.

He didn’t say anything about it.

Not the next day. Not the one after.

Then, a week later, you borrowed his headphones to take a phone call—and when you opened Spotify, your playlist was at the top of his “Recently Played.” The last track was halfway through.

You smiled. Just a little.

But when you looked up at him—Rafe, slouched on the couch, pretending not to notice—there was something in his posture that caught you. Something tense, almost embarrassed. Like he was afraid of what it meant to be known.

“I didn’t save it,” he said quickly. “Just clicked it by accident.”

You didn’t tease. Just nodded and said, “Cool.”

Because what you didn’t know—what he wouldn’t say—was that no one had ever made him anything before. Not without expecting something back. Not just because they thought he’d like it.

He’d listened to it three times. All the way through. Alone. With the volume low. Like it was something fragile.

Back in his room, he didn’t turn on the light. Just sat on the edge of the bed and untied his shoes like it was any other night, like his father hadn’t spent the last hour gutting him with compliments sharp enough to bruise. His jaw was tight. Not clenched in anger—set, like he was bracing for something. You didn’t speak. Just stood in the doorway, the scent of his old cologne hanging in the still air, like it had nowhere else to go.

He kicked one shoe off, then the other, and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, hands clasped like he was trying to wring the tension out of his own fingers. His eyes didn’t meet yours. Not once. It was like being shut out of a house that had once let you in. You walked in slowly. Sat beside him. Close, but not touching.

“Say it,” he said suddenly, voice flat. “Whatever it is you’ve been holding in since dinner.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “I wasn’t—”

He laughed, sharp and humorless. “C’mon. You think I didn’t see your face every time he opened his mouth?”

“I just—” you tried, but he cut you off with a shake of his head, like he didn’t want to hear whatever soft thing you were about to say.

“Don’t try to fix it,” he muttered. “Seriously. Don’t—don't do the whole ‘they were wrong about you’ thing. You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

That landed. Not because he said it harshly. But because he said it like a fact. Like he needed it to be true.

You sat still. Silent. Felt the breath stall in your chest.

“I know how they see me,” Rafe said, staring at the floor. “I don’t need you to pretend it’s different.”

You wanted to reach for him. But something in the way he was holding himself—tight, coiled, like a pulled wire—warned you not to. Not yet.

And then, quieter, he said, “You’re not gonna be the exception.”

He said it like a fact he’d had to learn the hard way, like it would save you both time if you just nodded and left now.

You didn’t.

You sat with it. Not like you were absorbing the blow, but like you were letting it pass right through you. Then you said, almost conversationally, “You left your toothbrush in my shower caddy. I was gonna pretend it was gross, but it’s not. I kind of like it.”

Rafe didn’t move. But something shifted. Just slightly. A pause that felt like a flinch he caught in time.

You went on, still calm. “Also, I stole your hoodie. The green one. The ugly one. I wore it to the dining hall and someone asked if I’d lost a bet."

You continued, “They said ‘Cameron? Like Rafe Cameron?’ And I said ‘Yeah.’ Just like that. No panic. No apology.”

Still nothing from him. But he was listening now. Really listening. You could feel it.

“And this girl—Ava, I think—she just nodded. Said ‘huh.’ Like it made sense. Like you made sense.”

You looked at him then. Not soft. Not pleading. Just real.

“I don’t need a version of you that other people approve of,” you said. “I just need the one who texts me pictures of raccoons at 2 a.m. and refuses to admit he has a skincare routine.”

The silence that came after was almost holy.

“I only do the toner because you said I looked tired.”

You smiled.

And for a second, you thought that would be it. The soft edge of humor, the space to breathe. But then he leaned forward again, rubbed both hands over his face like he could blur the night out of existence, and said—too fast, too quiet—

“I was fucking terrified to bring you here.”

You froze.

“I didn’t say it,” he went on, like the words were pushing themselves out now that they’d started. “I tried to act normal, I tried to play it cool—like this was just... whatever. But the second we crossed that bridge, I knew.”

“Knew what?”

“That it was a mistake,” he said, without hesitation. “Not because of you. Because of me. Because I know what people here remember. And you—you’re gonna see it. One of these days. You’re gonna run into someone at the store or the gas station or the fucking yacht club, and they’re gonna look at you like they feel sorry for you. Like you don’t know who you’re with.”

He laughed, but it came out sharp and sick. A knife, not a joke.

“We’ve got two more nights here,” he said, voice thinner now. “That’s plenty of time. Plenty of time for someone to say something. For you to hear something. And then...” He trailed off.

You looked at him. Really looked.

“And then what?”

He didn’t answer. Just stared at the floor, jaw tight, like he was waiting for the version of you that walked out.

Like he was already trying to forgive you for it.

"Then what, Rafe?" you pressed. "Then I'll leave?"

He exhaled, slow and uneven, like the question itself hurt more than the answer. His hand dragged across his knee. He still wouldn’t look at you.

“I wouldn’t blame you,” he said finally. Voice low. Unsteady in that dangerous way—like it was trying too hard to be calm. “That’s the thing.”

He leaned back, spine hitting the wall behind the bed with a soft thud.

“You think I don’t know how this works? You show up here, and everyone sees you and thinks, God, she doesn’t know what he’s done. And maybe you don’t. Not really. You’ve heard pieces, maybe. Hints. But not the shit that sticks.”

You didn’t speak. Let him go on.

“I’m not stupid,” he said, shaking his head. “I know the kind of person people think I am. I was that person. That version of me—he didn’t care who he fucked over, who he scared, who he broke. I hurt people just to feel something. Sometimes just to prove I could.”

He paused. Swallowed hard. His voice cracked, barely. “And if I didn’t have you... I’d probably still be doing it.”

That landed. Sharp and heavy.

You felt it in your chest, in your throat. That kind of quiet honesty that didn’t come with redemption, just... regret.

“I brought you here,” he said, finally looking at you. “And now I’m just waiting for someone to hand you a reason to hate me. Like it’s inevitable. Like it’s already written.”

And the way he said it—flat, matter-of-fact—made your stomach twist. Because he didn’t sound afraid of losing you. He sounded like he already had.

"You are the only good thing I've had, and it has lasted while I wasn't here. I brought you here, and now I keep wishing I hadn't. Not because I don't want you with me. But because I do. And I think that might be the worst thing."

You didn’t touch him at first. You just sat there, letting his words settle in the dark like dust, like ash. And then, softly, almost like you were scared of startling him.

“Okay,” you said.

His head turned toward you, barely. Confused. Cautious. Like he was waiting for the rest of the sentence to fall apart.

But you just said it again. “Okay.”

“I’m still here. I’m tired and full of shitty risotto and mildly traumatized, but I’m here.”

He gave a breath of something that might’ve been a laugh. Or a warning. “You don’t get it.”

“No,” you said. “I don’t. I wasn’t here for the worst of it. I don’t know what you’ve done, who you were, what people will say to me at the gas station or the grocery store or wherever else they sell recycled grudges in this town.”

You leaned in, a little closer. Not pressing. Just available.

“But I know you now. I know the way you make sure I always walk on the inside of the sidewalk. I know you refuse to admit you have a favorite mug but always give me the same one when I stay over. I know that you don’t sleep until I do. And I know that when you’re scared, you get mean. Not because you want to hurt someone. But because you’d rather be hated on purpose than loved on accident.”

That was what broke him.

Not loud. Not dramatic. Just a breath that caught. A blink that lasted too long. A hand that went up like he might cover his face, but stopped midway and curled instead into the fabric of your sleeve.

“I don’t want to lose this,” he said, and it came out strangled. Raw. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t.”

“You might,” he said. “You might find out something and—fuck, I wouldn’t blame you.”

“Rafe,” you said, so gently it almost hurt, “you’ve already told me the worst thing.”

“What?”

“That you don’t believe anyone could love you and stay.”

And that—that—was when he finally let it go.

His shoulders sagged, and he turned into you like he didn’t mean to. Like his body moved before his mind caught up. You pulled him in, arms around his neck, his face buried against your collarbone, his breath shuddering like it couldn’t find its rhythm.

And still, he tried to apologize. You felt it in the way he whispered your name like he was confessing to something.

[inf3ct3dd]

ellie headcanons pt 4.!

warnings: literally nothing

content: loser!ellie x reader

authors note: brewing a full length fic in my mind rn… this might be the last hc post 😓!!!

pt.3. taglist!

- loves matching with you. keychains, shoes, outfits, literally anything. if you have dyed hair, she’d dye a piece of hers to match you.

- makes up elaborate plots to kiss you bc she’s too cool and nonchalant to ask for a kiss 😕😕

“ugh, my lips are just sooooo dry…”

“didnt you literally just put chapstick on 5 minutes ago?”

“yknow chapstick these days…so…low quality.”

“is this your weird way of asking me to kiss you?”

“noooo what!!! thats craaaaazy i have nooo idea what you’re talking about!!!”

smooch

“you’re so stupid.”

“i feel sooooo moisturized right now”

- always fidgeting with something. probably has a rubix cube keychain 😕🔥🔥

- speaking of, she has an excessive amount of keychains. like so many.

- covers her eyes and peaks through her fingers every time you change infront of her

- definitely audibly said “woah” when she saw ur boobs for the first time

- has so many dumb socks. dinosaurs, minecraft, pickles, literally anything she likes she has a pair of socks for

- scarily good at roblox obbies. you literally can’t play with her because she’ll be done in like 5 minutes 😞

- loves those papas cooking games. her faves are the taco mia one and the sushi-ria

- arizona green tea 🗣️🗣️

- will put on awful accents for hours on end just for fun 😞 esp the italian accent. it’s ridiculous 💔💔 or that frat dude accent

“suhhh dude”

- definitely built her own pc. put a picture of you in it too ☹️☹️

- calls you “dude” or “bro” on accident sometimes

- absolutely constantly argues w ppl on the internet. if she gets bored she just tells them to kts and blocks them 😕

- MAKES THE BEST PASTA EVER!!! it’s literally her favorite food and she’s constantly cooking it. even makes her own sauce 🔥🔥

- tries to do tricks while she’s smoking and just ends up a coughing mess

- her default pose in every picture is just her doing a thumbs up and looking at the camera like this 😐 but whenever she takes a picture with you she is absolutely CHEESING

- randomly takes 0.5 pictures of you constantly. has a whole album in her phone of all the pictures

- barely ever uses instagram, and all her posts are just pictures of you.

- “i could take a bear in a fight.”

- loves balancing things on your head when you fall asleep around her. one time you woke up to like 20 cheerios falling on your lap

- whenever she’s home alone she puts on insanely random outfits and then forgets she’s wearing them. one time you came home to her sleeping on the couch in a full suit

- lets you stand on the cart in the grocery store so she can stand behind you and push it around

- has had the same backpack since the 5th grade. she’s had to sow it back together 20 times and she refuses to throw it away because its “special”

- stalks all your reposts on tiktok when she’s bored

“was this about me???”

- absolutely disgusted by like…any type of canned food. she will not go near it. ESPECIALLY SARDINES

- makes a million typos every time she texts you. her messages are like ancient scrolls you have to decipher to read

“sre tou comungw over todqy ??”

- every time she wears a hat she wears it backwards

- hates sharing her food, but will constantly eat yours

“just a little bite!!!” and she eats like half of it 😒

- has the julien baker rainbow guitar strap

- literally loves apples. so much. apple juice, apple pie, apple cider, literally ANYTHING that has apples in it/ is apple flavored she will DEVOUR IT

- whenever she cooks for herself, she just eats it straight out of the pot/pan.

“whats the point?? ‘s just more dishes to wash 😒”

taglist: if ur name is crossed, i cant tag u :((

@princessguardian444 @mina-281 @leatheredhearts @r3wbeef @dinaissoprettyoml @forelliesposts @lov3lylotus @melissabarrerass @greencacty @as2rid @kingofmylastkiss @dollietes @ellieslilsIvvt @pl9ys @bbygrlshelbs @gayh0rr0r @sawaagyapong @paran0id0blivi0n @bubs-world @mag-mfm @bearieio @slutshies @horror-whoree @calystas-morning-tea @ilovaffles @fr3sh-tragedies @iloveeyousblog @maris-koffin @emonopolyman @elliesgflol @girlwonderchloe @brunettedolls-blog @beestar120 @ddreabea @ibloom4u @elliesmellsbad @thecowardwrites @owmoiralover @yuyans-stuff @minixmel @ellesslutt @swtsuna @saggykneecaps @4rt3m1ss @clouded-whispers @baldph0bic @elleatethat @certifedcrybunny @staxz8 @astridnyx31 @0rb1t-s4turn @amandla111 @kalia31 @spinnyshark @cewcumbers @urnewghostfriend @dinasmoon @teeveegirl @iwantsoda @lunascerebro @matildalee @rach-0000 @er-or101 @our-horse @armins1ut @syrenada @seventeenelliesgf @jellysangelstar @f3r4lfr0gg3r @ilovelyby @people0know @sapphicsstars @hi2647 @mousymaven @echostinn @bratydoll

[greenparker]

hello! i’m really enjoying your writing so far and would like to request a lil something with tasm!peter x fem!reader where reader like dresses up as spiderman for halloween? 🙈 thank you sm! <3

A/N: Thank you for requesting, its a really cute idea so I hope you think I did it justice. Wasnt sure about what to write for the plot lol, so its short. Pairing: Tasm!Peter Parker x fem!reader

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆

Y/N loved Halloween; it was her favorite time of year. The crisp, cool weather, the spooky movies, and the thrill of dressing up always put her in the best mood. This year, she'd outdone herself by dressing up as Spider-Man, complete with web-shooters (which she had sneakily "borrowed" from Peter’s stash).

The city buzzed with energy, its streets transformed by the holiday. Skyscrapers loomed under a faintly cloudy sky, while jack-o'-lanterns flickered on brownstone steps and fake cobwebs clung to iron railings. Costumed children and adults hurried down the sidewalks, their laughter and chatter mixing with honking taxis and the distant wail of a siren. The wind swirled, sending leaves spiraling through the air and tugging at the capes, witch hats, and masks of passersby.

As she made her way to meet Peter, she couldn’t wait to see his reaction to her costume. The minute he spotted her, his eyes widened, and a slow grin spread across his face.

"Wow, you really committed to the whole ‘friendly neighborhood hero’ thing," he said, clearly amused. "I think you might wear it better than the original."

Y/N laughed, striking a mock heroic pose. "Don’t be jealous, Parker. Not everyone can pull off spandex like this."

Peter rubbed the back of his neck, trying to play it cool. "Yeah, well... maybe I’ll just stick to normal clothes for tonight."

"Aw, and here I thought you’d show up as my arch-nemesis or something." She teased, pretending to shoot webbing at him. He chuckled, watching her with that familiar, soft look in his eyes, the one that always made her heart skip a beat.

Peter stepped closer, lightly tugging at the edge of her mask where it had slipped slightly. "You’ve got to be careful, Spider-Woman," he teased, his voice low, eyes locking on hers for a brief moment. "You can’t let your identity slip."

Y/N felt a sudden warmth creeping up her neck. "Guess I’ll need my friendly neighborhood Peter to watch out for me, huh?"

He smirked, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "I’m always watching out for you."

The playful tension between them was undeniable. She nudged him with her elbow, grinning. "Does that mean you’ll be swinging in to save me if I get in trouble?"

Peter laughed, the sound light and soft. "Depends. If it involves spiders, I might need to reconsider."

She rolled her eyes, tugging at the sleeve of his jacket. "C’mon, I know you’re secretly a superhero in disguise."

Peter’s smile faltered for just a second, and Y/N caught it, her brow furrowing slightly. Before she could question it, he shot back with a grin. "Well, if you’re Spider-Woman tonight, maybe I’ll be your loyal sidekick."

Y/N placed her hands on her hips, tilting her head with a smirk. "Loyal sidekick? Oh no, no, no. You’ve got it all backwards, Parker. You’re the sidekick in this dynamic."

Peter raised an eyebrow, his grin never faltering. He was completely hooked on her, and it showed in every glance. Y/N crossed her arms, feigning serious authority. "You’re my guy in the chair!" she declared, amused with her own joke.

Peter laughed, the sound warm and familiar. "Oh, is that how it is now?" he asked, stepping closer until his face was just inches from hers. His fingers brushed lightly against hers before he took her hand, the gesture gentle but charged with electricity.

“Guess we’ll have to settle that later,” he said, his voice low and teasing. Y/N felt her cheeks warm as he leaned in closer, her breath catching in her throat while her heart picked up speed. She couldn’t help but smile back, wishing he’d close the gap even more. Her eyes flicked down to his soft lips, hoping for just a second longer—until he pulled away with a mischievous glint in his eye.

“But for now,” he added, clearly amused, “how about we go save the city from a terrible lack of candy?”

For a moment, everything around them seemed to slow down—the cool breeze, the distant laughter from trick-or-treaters, the hum of the city—none of it mattered. It was just him and her, standing there, his gaze holding hers like they were in their own little bubble in the chaos of New York.

“Lead the way, sidekick,” she teased, her grin growing as they started walking together. “Just don’t slow me down, alright?” ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆ Thanks for reading! I would love to do more requests if anyones wants :)

[elizaaudreyy]

Todd's Girl, Their Boss (Pt. Eight)

Pairing: Todd Stevens x female!oc Word Count: 850

Todd was not typically a clipboard guy.

He was a red-solo-cup-in-one-hand, arm-around-his-girl, casual-chaos, let's-figure-it-out-on-the-fly-guy.

But this? This was Mariah's birthday. Her 22nd brithday.

And if there was one thing he knew for certain - besides the fact that he was wildly in love with her - it was that Mariah didn't do half-assed birthdays. She was the girl who remembered everyone's favorite cake flavor, sent Venmos to pledge moms for flower deliveries, and once threw a color-coded brunch for a Wednesday.

So Todd, clipboard in hand, in sweats and a backwards hat, stood in the center of the KNA living room at 10 a.m. sharp with a mission: pull off the most epic surprise party in KNA history.

"All right!" he barked, louder than usual. "Everyone shut up and listen - this is Operation Queen M's birthday bash. Eyes on me, pledges, or I will assign you to glitter duty."

The room stilled. Even Mitch, mouth full og badel, slowly turned to listen.

Tom blinked. "Is that...a clipboard?"

"It's color-coded," one of the Delta Tau girls whispered to another. "I'm so proud of him."

Todd didn't even smile. He was in the zone.

"Mariah's class ends at 5:10," he said, tapping the board like a coach drawing up a play. "I've already sent Brie and Lena to walk her home and stall her. That gives us six hours to turn this disaster frat house into something worthy of a queen. Let's go."

He truned to Tom and pointed. "You're on lights. I want string lights across the ceilings, across the bar and out back. I don't care what you have to duct tape."

"Got it."

"Mitch - drinks. You've got the coolers, you've got the recipes. Make sure we've got mocktails too. No sloppy pledges near the punch bowl."

"Yes, boss."

"Pledges," Todd said, spinning toward the line of nervous-looking freshmen. "You are on cleaning and setup. That means no trash, no mystery socks, no weird smells. I want this place looking like Mariah walked into an actual event, not a post-game locker room."

They all scrambled into motion without another word.

Todd turned toward the Delta Tau girls next. "Decor and food detail - that's all you. You already know the vibe she likes: cozy glam, golds, fairy lights, boujee desserts. And I want that gold 22 balloon blown up by hand this time. We are not risking another helium mishap."

"That was one time!" Lena yelled from the kitchen.

"And we all remember the screaming," Todd deadpanned.

Everyone moved like gears in a machine.

At some point, someone turned on music. The air filled with the scent of baked goods and Febreze. Pledges mopped floors. Tom cursed at a tangled light strand. Mitch experimented with strawberry lemonade and tequila.

And Todd? He didn't stop.

He checked the table settings. He straightened the "Happy Birthday Mariah" banner three times. He even redid the balloon arch after deciding it wasn't symmetrical enough - which caused actual gasps from the Delta Tau girls.

Around 4:30, the house was glowing. Music played softly from the speakers, candles flickered on windowsills, and dessert trays lined the table like edible artwork. A "Mariah's Throne" corner had been arranged - velvet chair, gold sash, rhinestone tiara. All of it perfect.

And then, at 5:15 on the dot, the front door opened.

Mariah stepped inside, but immediately froze, eyes wdide.

"SURPRISE!!!"

The whole house erupted.

She blinked in stunned silence as confetti cannons exploded overhead, a crowd of sisters, brothers, and pledges cheering in unision. Fairy lights blinked. Someone hit play on her favorite birthday anthem. A tiered cake with glittery frosting sat proudly on the counter.

Mariah turned slowly, still processing, until her eyes found Todd standing near the center - clipboard now discarded on the couch, wearing a smug, shy grin.

Her jaw dropped.

"You did this?" she asked, walking toward him, half in shock, half in awe.

He shrugged, trying to be cool. "With a little help."

Mariah looked around at the perfectly cleaned house, the decorations that matched her aesthetic to a T, the drink bar, the lit candles - all of it tailored like it had come straight from her Pinterest board.

She looked back at Todd, eyes soft. "You planned this whole thing?"

"I had a clipboard and everything."

That made her laugh, and then she threw her arms around him, kissing him like no one else was there.

Cheers erupted again. Someone whistled. Mitch definitely yelled, "Get it, Birthday Queen!"

When they broke apart, Mariah rested her forehead to his. "I can't believe you pulled this off."

Todd just smiled at said, "You've rubbed off on me, Cole. I'm officially a clipboard guy now."

"God help us all," Tom muttered in the background, but no one paid him any attention.

Not when Mariah was glowing, her hands tangled in Todd's shirt, whispering, "This is the best birthday I've ever had."

And right then, with the party just beginning and the whole house buzzing with love and glitter, Todd Stevens officially added a new title to his resume - boyfriend, brother, party planner, clipboard king.

[archivalofsins]

I am excited to see the T3 sprites of the Prisoners, I've been thinking about how they may look (Yuno w/ different hair? Mikoto w/o restraints? Etc) and wanted to ask you what you thought they may look like for T3

WE GET TO MEET THE KING OF THE MASQUERADE!!!

We get to finally see behind the act- I know you brought up Yuno with different hair and Mikoto without restraints but I saw this ask a day ago and immediately went we finally get to see! He's finally gonna introduce himself- WOOOOOO! Yeah let's meet the king of the masquerade baby!

We did exactly what he asked so I'm expecting a proper introduction.

"Lick that sin and oppose punishment, until you can meet the king of the masquerade."

We opposed punishment alright,

I want to meet him soooo bad. No one has any idea. I'm sooo excited to see him now- I hope he's let it all slip. I wanna hear,

"All those things I wanna do that I can’t say out loud."

I'm soooo happy about it this is why I wanted him innocent this is why i said nothing during his trial. I wanna see sooo bad. The fact that he teased it like that was soooo mean. He was like,

Kazui: You're almost there, you're almost at the finale don't you want to see what happens if you keep indulging my bullshit come on~ Just follow the king of the masquerade.

My ass,

Me: Oh god he made it sound so tempting... My one weakness curiosity. Innocent just innocent him again. No, I don't care that she fell backwards which is more indicative of being pushed than actively choosing to commit suicide. I need to see the whole act okay. We can talk about everything else later. I don't care if he's pulling a pied piper- I don't give a fuck! Fuck it we ball. I'm an adult and I can make bad choices in the comfort of fiction if I want to. I'm gonna shut my mouth not say anything and do whatever I can to get this man innocent.

Kazui,

"Heh, heh got another one."

Well as they say curiosity killed the cat and I don't think satisfaction is gonna bring it back in this case.

But got damn if I'm not gonna be satisfied. All that to say i have no clue how Kazui will look but I am here for it.

Mikoto I expect to be unrestrained. Futa I'm kind of expecting him to not have an eyepatch any longer possibly for his eye to have healed. Since the person to have examined him was Shidou and they may use Futa's eye healing to hint at Shidou's dishonesty/malpractice. I thought Yuno may cut her hair. She may do it to have a style reminiscent to Mahiru's like a way of remembering her. That would be really cool.

I'm hoping and somewhat expecting Amane's hair to have grown out and possibly a uniform change if they decide to show their in real time ages this trial. I don't know which way it will go with her restraints though. I'm thinking there will be some visible injuries on a few prisoners much deeper bruising. Depending on how the deaths happened i.e if there was a struggle or not there could be no visible injuries.

I'm interested in what clothing changes we'll get. I wonder if Mu will still be wearing her jewelry. How Kazui's pants and shoes may change. If Futa will take the hoodie off or change his shoes and pants to fit the salvation thing he's been pushing. I'm wondering if Mikoto will change his hair a slicked back look would be nice.

I'm also interested in the trial three sprite art to see Amane standing up straight again to check her height. Plus I wonder if she'll have her hat back or a new one. Those are just things I'd like. I think to extent we all expect them to look broken up or weathered. Though I expect some of them will be looking as though nothing had happened if not all of them.

It would be interesting if they drew some inspiration from their fourth anniversary funeral art. When it comes to the designs. I'm sorry this isn't much of answer just food for thought. There's so many direction they can take it- It's impossible for me to settle on what would be the most interesting or what I'm expecting.

Since I am really just taking it in stride. I could make some guesses but it would be more so about their demeanors. I'm kind of expecting Mikoto to be a bit cocky similar to how Mu was trial two. Everyone innocent trial one was smiling trial two but Kotoko. However she wasn't really smiling to begin with.

I think it would be interesting to have a few more innocent prisoners not smiling. I could imagine Yuno, Futa, and Amane being the one's not smiling. In contrast I could imagine Kotoko and Mu smiling despite being guilty. Mikoto and Kazui are up in the air for me.

But that's all my thoughts on that. Sorry, again that this wasn't that in depth.

[hannahssimblr]

Once, years ago now, Aunt Maureen took me to visit her eldest daughter, Karina. In the midday heat, beneath the shade of a fig tree we sat in a Venice restaurant, where bougainvillaea draped over the front of flat roofed houses and fragrant blooms edged the terrace. 

I loved Los Angeles. The food was always better, the people happier, the streets more colourful and picturesque than in Albuquerque, where everything was brown and beige, blending with the dust land. Karina laughed when I said this, sitting back in her chair in her oval sunglasses, a cigarette balanced between long slender fingers. 

“You should see where I live downtown, then I’ll ask you again how much you love it here.”

I didn’t know what she meant. I was thinking about those cool guys I’d seen on a basketball court earlier with their hats on backwards, the loud, bass heavy music they played from a speaker, and the skaters who dropped lazily into concrete basins on their boards. I wanted to be one of them, though I knew Maureen would never buy me something dangerous like a skateboard. I played things a bit fast and loose at the best of times and once almost rollerbladed clean off a pier, so she’d developed a fear that I might one day die of pure stupidity. Maybe when I was older and she wasn’t watching me from the kitchen window anymore I would move to LA, get myself a board and skate around on it without wearing a shirt, and get muscles and a deep tan like everyone else here. 

These were the kinds of thoughts I lost myself in as Maureen and Karina had conversations that either weren’t interesting or which I was unable to understand, but I was content sipping on my Fanta with ice, lurid orange, and so fizzy that it stung the back of my throat and thinking about being a grown up in LA while Maureen had her white wine and Karina her cigarettes. Soon they would order a plate of oysters that looked too much like boogers for me to sample and speak more about things happening, things that had already happened, and plans they’d made for the summer. 

“What’s your favourite time of year?” Karina said to me suddenly, snapping me out of my thoughts. I knew this is the sort of question you ask a seven year old when you don’t know how to speak to children, but I thought hard about it anyway to make sure I gave her the best answer I could. She was my cool, mature cousin, and I always wanted so badly to impress her. November and December, I told her, because I got presents on my birthday, then time off school on Thanksgiving and both these things on Christmas. I was still reeling from the PlayStation console that Maureen and her husband Mario had bought me last Christmas, slotted perfectly within its square, silver box, which I still had, stored carefully beneath my bed just in case I ever needed to pack it away and move it. 

“What about you, mom?” She said, and Maureen didn’t have to think. 

“The spring,” she said, “I just love to be out in my garden then, with all the flowers and that lovely sun, it’s not too hot. It feels like everything is just on the brink of bursting to life.”

I thought about that later as we passed the canal, all the beautiful spring flowers that erupted from the banks, and of home too, where by now, in the hazy days of mid May, the desert was blanketed with spring grasses, with violets and golden poppies and bluebonnets, burning a trail of vibrant indigo all the way to the mountains. 

Beginning // Prev // Next

Ty to @scrapplesims for suffering living in LA once upon a time and for answering my weirdly specific questions about what it was like

[withered-tears]

AND HERE SHE IIIISSS. FINAL MEMBER OF MY SQUAD. (well, the original, non extended found familied squad >:3 ahuhuh shhh)

SD: W

SD: X, Squad Captain

SD: Y, Pilot

Check this post for general Lore dump about the squad, imma make a quick summary below:

Y is very much the glue that keeps the squad together. She LOVES her squadmates!! so muuuuch.

Her coat got a bit charred on entry, due to her going Hey guys I bet i can tokyo drift this baby! She. couldn't.

She's on C9 to have a good time. Tried to get X to left her wear her pilot hat backwards for ageeees (But boooosssss it looks cool!!!)

In the end it was pointless cuz she lost her hat like, in the second week on planet.

Her favorite pastime is to break into explore old human buildings/houses and get gifts for her squad.

Her purple hair clip and W's green hairtie are actually wires from their very first WD kills! Its kinda like a friendship bracelet deal uwu

She and W became platonic soulmates/partners pretty early on their deployment, X one day came back from a hunt like less than 3 months into their mission to find them cuddling on their sleep.

On the other hand, it took a bit longer for her and X to become gfs. around a year and a half into C9 aprox. (Y's the one that asked her out uwu)

Just like her squadmates, Y's healing is subpar. Her "frekles" are actually burnt out pixels on her screen that never healed quite right. They remain static regardless of whatevers on Y's screen.

Shes the only one on her squad whos constantly trying out new outfits! Shed be walking past a human corpse and goes Oh that looks cute! and Yoinks it for herself.

She also enjoys putting decals/stickers on her body. They dont last long, but they are fun!

Also fun fact, shes also the one in her squad with the most kills :3 a solid 45% of their totals kills was all her doing

[cdblake1565]

I WANNA LEARN HOW TO FIRE THAT PISTOL

Captain Keeli X OC Reader

Warnings: Corny flirting; yesterday was my first attempt at writing anything other than investigative reports at work. Please be kind.

That first night I met her my heart was in my mouth as soon as I saw her. Her eyes were the color of the most glorious blue sky on a warm sunny day. Her hair was light and wavy, some of the strands lighter than others. Most of it was pulled back and tied behind her head but a few strands fell playfully across her face. Of course the first time I saw her she was lying in the concrete floor; having fallen backwards and banged her head against a metal doorframe when my medic pulled his blaster on her. We weren’t quite sure if she was alive or dead at first. Then she opened those eyes and I fell right into them.

After she gave us some much needed medical supplies; some fluids and bandages, she reminded me I owed her a lesson firing the blaster. She said hunting was a family tradition and my “gun” looked interesting and wanted to learn how to fire it. I was all for a second meeting. I told her she just needed to name the time and place and I’d be there. So now I was on my way to meet her. I could feel my palms sweating right through my gloves.

I pulled up on my speeder bike in the alley behind the hospital she worked at. It was early morning, the sun was just rising. There in the shadows she was standing with her shoulders and one foot against the wall. Her hair was down. It was just past her shoulders and still a bit wet. Gods she was pretty. She was wearing faded green baggy trousers that came up to her hips with large pockets by her knees. The trousers were tucked into worn brown leather boots that laced up about half to her knees. She had on a bright red top that didn’t quite reach the top of the trousers. It had a small hole right at the neckline. On her belt she had what looked like a small knife and maybe a water bottle. Her jacket was faded brown and worn. Her hat was wide brimmed with the brim rolled up a bit on the sides. Kriff! She was gorgeous.

She immediately dashed over to me. “Wow! Is this one of those speeder bikes I’ve seen on the holoweb? This is so cool!” She circled around the bike twice, firing off questions at the speed of light. She never stopped talking long enough for me to answer any of her questions about the speeder bike. “How fast does it go? How far can it go? How does it go above the ground without any wheels?” All I could do is laugh about her exuberance. Next thing I knew she had hopped on behind me and blurted out “Let’s go!”

“Whoa, whoa whoa! You haven’t even told me where we are going or how to get there. You haven’t even told me your name yet for that matter.”

I turned to her and could see a slight blush across her cheeks. Could she possibly be any prettier? “Oh I’m sorry” she drawled. “I’m Lacinda Cornell, but my friends call be Laci. We”ll be going to an old military camp that’s been closed for about 50 years. It has rifle ranges, hills for repelling and old obstacle courses that the troops used to train on. It even has a little creek that runs through it. That’s what these are for.” She holds up two thin poles with sting on them, “I thought I could teach you how to catch some fish.” And with that a huge bright smile lite up her face. I responded, “Well Laci, I can call you Laci, right?” She nodded and flashed a sideways grin, “give me the coordinates to this camp and let’s get on our way.”

That day turned out to be one of the best days of my life so far. Turns out Laci was a natural with the DC17. She thought it would be a little big and bulky but she said it had no “kick” like their guns do so it was easy to shoot. I wasn’t quite as good at fishing, but Laci caught a couple and she found some herbs and cooked us up a nice meal with the supplies she had packed in her backpack. This girl was not only pretty but she’s also pretty kriffing resourceful. It’s karking crazy that I had to go almost all the way across the Galaxy to find the girl of my dreams.

[darksturnioloqueen]

The Taste Of Guilt - Chapter 3

**This Fic Series will NOT be for people with triggers. This Fic Series will have moments of cannibalism.**

Definition can·ni·bal·ism /ˈkanəbəˌliz(ə)m/ noun: cannibalism

The practice of eating the flesh of one's own species.

Please Read At Your Own Risk.

⚠︎Trigger Warning: setting the interesting stuff (kinda filler coded), mentions of embalming, angst, ominous past relationship, human bicep smoothie, mention of estranged relationship, hunger for humans, mention of being dangerous. ⚠︎

Because Chris is consistently stuck in the house, he usually goes to bed early so he can wake up for his one commitment. Last night, however, was the exception. He spent all night tossing and turning. His stomach was eating itself from the inside, and he couldn't stop thinking about her beautiful skin. She was a perfect medium beige, and he swears she smelled like some version of coconut. Although, that could have been from one of the smoothies they offer. It took him forever to fall asleep just for his alarm to go off what felt like minutes later.

He woke up and got dressed. Today, he put on a backward hat to tame his unruly hair and a plain white shirt because his polo was dirty. He looked at himself in the mirror for a few minutes, trying to accept his appearance. Usually, he avoids looking at himself for too long only because it makes him feel sick to his stomach. Today felt different.

In the kitchen, he grabbed his thawed package from last night. If she came in today, he was going to need it. He wanted to keep his mouth from watering the way it had for her. He needed to be able to control his thoughts. He grabbed his cup and headed to the shop. From here, it was all normal: unlock the door, prepare a special smoothie, restock, do light cleaning, and then wait for Mike to show up.

"Morning, Chris." Mike set his bag in the office.

"Good morning." He was trying to figure out how to explain why he wanted to stay and 'help.' He knew it had nothing to do with work and everything to do with Dior.

"Opening go okay?" Mike was opening the window for conversation.

"Yeah, actually, I wanted to ask you something."

"Go ahead." Mike started making a drink Chris assumed was for himself.

"I was wondering if it would be possible for me to stay a little longer today. If not, it's cool I just -"

"Sure," Mike said nonchalantly. We can always use the extra help." Mike handed him the now-dirty blender.

"Are you sure?" Chris wasn't double-checking because he thought it would be a problem; he was making double-sure because he knew Matt was going to be irritated when he told him.

"Yeah. Just wear an apron." He tossed one at him. Mike then started going over Chris' morning work, something he did as a part of his regular routine.

"Thank you. I'm going to call my brother and tell him." Chris bowed out to the lobby, sat at a table in the corner, and dialed his brother.

"Hello?" Matt answered.

"Hey, so..." Chris's heart started thumping. He could already feel Matt's anger through the phone.

"Chris, I'm at work. What do you need?" Matt didn't mean for it to come off as harshly as it did, but he was in the middle of getting ready to embalm someone. The thought of Chris needing help or having trouble didn't cross his mind.

"I'm staying later at work again. Mike needs extra people. He said he is -"

"Chris, this is not a good idea."

"It's just for today until he redoes the schedule." Chris lied.

"I'll text you. Keep your phone on you."

"Thank you," Chris said through gritting teeth. He wanted to sound understanding, but being treated like a child was getting increasingly annoying. Chris set his phone down and rubbed his face, trying to rub off the irritation. He got what he wanted, but it never felt like winning. He was constantly battling himself, and the only solutions stressed out Matt. If Chris was home at the same time as Matt, they avoided each other because Matt couldn't stand being around Chris. If Chris wanted to stay out, it had Matt on edge. Chris hated feeling like this. Caught in the middle between who he wanted to be and who he was.

"Hey, Mike." Chris removed his hands and turned his head to see her.

"Morning Dior. Right on time." Mike handed her a smoothie, which she hadn't even asked for.

"School is almost finished, and I couldn't be happier." She giggled. Chris's mouth started salivating. He needed to drink his protein shake immediately. He stood up, and she looked over at him. Her smile didn't fade; instead, it became a shy smirk. She found him fascinating. She purposely chose a table that would require her to walk past him. "Excuse me," she whispered, turning her body to slide past him.

"Sorry," Chris mumbled and moved. He walked to the back and grabbed his drink. He sucked up the pink drink with chunks of un-blended bicep. Chris closed his eyes tightly as he gulped it down. His stomach stopped hurting. His mouth wasn't drooling anymore. The hardest part was getting it down. He just had to gulp and hope his mind allowed the ease. He set his shake down on a shelf in the back room, somewhere kind of hidden, and went back out. Dior was now sitting at a table, laptop out. She was clicking her mouse pad and typing occasionally. Chris was staring.

"Chris." He jumped, hearing his name snapping him back into reality. He was still at work. "Can you go clean tables?" Mike handed him a rag and disinfectant spray bottle. As he turned to walk away, he saw Mike's sly smile. Chris started away from Dior. He slightly hoped she would leave before he reached her section, but she didn't seem to be going anywhere.

She was writing in a notebook now. As Chris got closer to her he kept taking peeks at her. He couldn't help it. She was dressed even cozier today than yesterday. Her sweater engulfed her shape, leaving Chris to guess what she could look underneath it. He licked his lips. Her hair was in a big bun, and even though she was dressed down, she still had makeup on to impress anyone who would see her. She was perfect in Chris' eyes. He swallowed.

"Chris, right?" His head shot up, and he looked at her.

"Uh, yeah." He wanted to be calm and collected, but he hadn't flirted with a girl since Rosalinda. That's one of the many reasons he was just going to let this fixation go, eventually.

"When did you start working here?" She sat back in her seat, twirling her pencil with her fingers.

"Roughly a year." Chris wasn't sure why she was even talking to him. He wanted it, but why she would want him was all he could think about. Dior had friends. She was almost finished with her coursework for school, passing every class. She would then get to start apprenticing her career, as a veterinarian. What she didn't have was wonder—something interesting. Then she saw the cute new boy working the smoothie shop she had been coming to since starting college. Chris was her wonder. She had never seen him before, and along with that, he wasn't like anyone else she had seen. He had a very relaxed appearance and looked tired. She wanted to know more about him. When she wanted something, she would at least try for it.

"How come I never saw you before yesterday?" She inquired.

"I just open and prep."

"So you are free later?" She leaned her elbows on the table and looked up at him. Her eyes were big and brown filled with curiosity.

"I... Uh..." Chris followed what she was asking, but he couldn't find the right answer. He wanted to accept and see where later could lead but he knew Matt would shut this down faster than him asking to stay a few hours over. "I can't." He sighed. As much as Chris wanted to get to know her, he couldn't. He wasn't meant to get close to people.

"Oh. Maybe another time." Dior tried to look unphased, but she was let down a little. She was kind of used to getting her way, but she could also respect his answer. She wanted to ask why not, but she wasn't trying to come off as needy or creepy. She decided to let it go.

"Yeah, sure." Chris walked back behind the counter, now feeling stupid. Talking to someone and hanging out with them was all he ever wanted, and he, like an idiot, turned it down. He turned it down so Matt couldn't be more mad at him. Their relationship was estranged enough.

"So, Dior?" Mike gave Chris 'the look'—the one that says, "I know what you are thinking."

"What?" Chris was only half paying attention to Mike; the other half was in his own head trying to figure out how badly he had messed up.

"She is a good girl. A family friend. She doesn't take interest in a lot of people." Mike started sharing information about her that Chris hadn't asked for. He was glad to receive it because it confirmed some of his thoughts about her. Since he had all night to think about her, he had created an image of her in his mind of who she was, how she acted, the things she was interested in. Not giving people a lot of her time was one thing Chris got right about her.

"Why are you telling me this?" He made sure his tone wasn't rude.

"I think she likes you." He chuckled and pressed a button on the blender, the loud whirring ending their conversation. Chris snuck a glance back at Dior to see her laptop screen open to a chart with nutrition facts. She was again taking notes. Chris smiled softly as he wiped down the front counter to look busy. He secretly loved the idea of her liking him, but then he was reminded by the burning sensation in his stomach that it was dangerous; he was dangerous.

[bazaarwords]

in spite of war [6/9 | griddlehark | post-canon]

more suffering—enjoy!

first | prev

🦴🦴🦴🦴🦴🦴🦴🦴🦴🦴🦴🦴🦴🦴🦴

We got to the next planet, which was the opposite of the last one.

By that I mean it was the nicest place I’d ever been.

It had water, like the First, stretching out further than I could see. I squinted, hand over my eyes, trying to make out anything at all in that blue nothingness. The water just churned, glinting in the light of two yellow stars, hung high in the sky. There was black sand and strange curved trees with huge, wide leaves. 

Along that sand: cushy chairs, squat houses made of bark and wood, and the friendliest people I’d ever met. They thanked us and thanked us for our work, told us to please sit! Rest! Enjoy our home! 

This all in opposition to my mood, which was terrible and bad, made me feel even worse. If such a thing were possible (it was.)

The cherry on top? Ianthe wanted to talk to me.

She was wearing a sun hat, which looked so fucking stupid I was this close to laughing. If I had felt any better I would have been reduced to hysterics. I would have rolled around in the sand and I would have howled. This thought in its simplicity made me realize how much I missed laughing. That thought made me feel worse. (See? I said it was possible.)

But when she came sauntering over, I just stared at her, arms crossed over my empty chest. I wanted to look intimidating, but if she was, she’d never show it. It was a stupid game of chicken we played, and neither of us was good at it.

I was sitting in one of the chairs, and the height difference didn’t really help my intimidation tactic.

“You look incredibly stupid, Kiriona, you know that?”

“I wasn’t going to say anything, but since you mentioned it… I guess we match. One of us has to go change.”

She sneered, which made her uglier. No, that’s unfair. She wasn’t ugly. She was horrible.

“I’ve no interest in prolonging a conversation with you, so I’ll get to the point—”

“Thank god—”

“You’ve done something to Harrow.”

The beach was so, so beautiful. I was a fraction of an inch from decorating it with Ianthe’s intestines. I could put her head on the flat rock closest to the water… maybe rip her hair out and stick it in the sand like sea grass… I could be the kind of landscaper any Ninth House nun with cataracts would adore.

She continued: “She’s gone bare-faced the past three days. I hate looking at her like that. And if I were a betting woman, I’d wager it has something to do with you.”

I could make designs on the backs of the cushy chairs with her teeth and nails. Maybe stick her eyes to the back of my head for a laugh.

“Well?” She pressed. I thought maybe if I pressed hard enough I could extrude all of her organs.

“How about you fuck off and die?”

She rolled her eyes. “Your comebacks were never good and somehow they’ve gotten worse.”

“How about this one: your mom.”

That lifted my mood. A your mom joke. Understated and yet? Elegant. Simple. I felt like a fucking comedian.

I saw the shift in Ianthe’s shitty tutti-frutti eyes before I could brace myself for it. I knew the kind of bitch she could be. The zero to a hundred she could pull at the drop of a hat.

“I get the impression that you’ve hurt her. Perhaps irreparably.”

Cool as I might have imagined myself being, I couldn’t contain it. I leapt and I swung.

She dodged me like I was a child. Looked at me like I was smaller still. I advanced on her, and she walked backwards like she had less-funny eyes in the back of her head.

“Seems like the gray matter’s rotted away like the rest of you. You can’t answer a simple question.”

“I have dreamed of killing you thousands of times—“

“And yet you can’t, can you?” She stopped, feet in the surf, and let me get right up in her face. 

There was no one around. I could have tried. I knew I was stronger. I could have drowned her, I could have ripped her head off. They just would have been inconveniences. It might have been fun to do, but it wouldn’t have meant anything.

My rage flew around in my chest like a caged animal. I’d sewn it up. It had nowhere to go.

“She’s done with you and yet you still manage to upset her like this. I think it’s because you have the kind of grating demeanor not even a mother could love.”

I wasn’t breathing. I mean, I didn’t need to, but I thought if I had I would have exploded. Which, honestly? Would have been the best thing I could have done. At least gore in her hair and on her white clothes might have annoyed her more than an attempt on her life.

“You know you have the nastiest laugh I’ve ever heard? Sounds like you trapped a rat in your throat.”

I didn’t get a reaction, which was lame. Ianthe just looked me up and down like I was a rotten piece of meat. I guess I was.

“It was pity, hm? That’s what it was.” She mused after a pregnant pause. “Like a lame dog. You’re pathetic.”

We stared at each other—a stupid faceoff no one could win. I think she must have gotten bored, because she breezed by me, making sure to elbow me with that goddamn arm you made her.

You never made me anything, I thought.

You made me suffer, I guess. Made me feel the way I did.

I went back to my chair, stumbling through the sand. On it, made of leaves from the weird trees, was a visor. I picked it up and realized that it had been fastened together with knuckle bones.

Pity, I thought. I’m pitiful.

I slipped the thing on my head. It wasn’t well-made, but it kept most of the light out of my eyes when I sat and watched the waves roll by.

My eyes smarted, and I couldn’t even blame it on the suns.

next

[a-court-of-moonlight-and-ire]

Ive been thinking about this, am I the only one whos kinda bothered when people say that ACOTAR was medieval aesthically while ACOMAF and onward are regency era/elizabethan/victorian/some other english time period? Like, again, im no history expert and this is all primarily vibes based, but the way I see it, the world of ACOTAR was already very aesthetically victorian, both the human and the fae part of it. Like, when Feyre leaves shes given this impractical dress with thin gloves and silly small hat, I dont know if she was wearing a corset which is like The thing that people think of when they think of that time period, but regardless, the vibes were all there, same goes for her sisters and their new mansion. And then in the fae world its like, Tamlin is living in a manor house, thats not exactly what I think of when I think of medieval times yknow. Honestly, I think when people say that ACOTAR felt more medieval while ACOMAF feels victorian, what theyre actually trying to express is the loss of whimsy between books, but that doesnt really have anything to do with the time-period its vaguely set in. The way I see it, Feyre was experiencing the victorian countryside lifestyle with tamlin and now that shes living with rhys shes experiencing the victorian city lifestyle, like the spring court and the night court are really not that different imo, except the way the spring court does the tithe is oddly medieval but I know that doylistically thats just to make Tamlin look backwards and archaic in comparison to Rhysand so I dont really feel like engaging with that on a deeper in-uinverse level if Im being honest

I will say that the men's clothes in both the SC and the NC do seem very medieval, but its like, 'commoner' medieval. Like, theyre just wearing normal ass pants that look like modern pants and then a shirt and then a garment thats kinda like a vest but it has a diffrent name, I dont remember what it is in english but in german its called Tunika. I bet they dont even wear stockings under their stupid modern pants! And its so annoying because its like, bro theyre monarchs, the monarchy is all about keeping up appearances and displaying their wealth whenever they can and stupid symbolism, thats why court clothing has historically slayed so hard, and here come these bozos, again, probably not even wearing stockings to emphasise their supple calves (although thats admittedly more 17th or 18th century iirc). And for Tamlin it atleast makes sense for his character, but we're told that Rhysand ascended to the throne when he was pretty young and that he actually wanted that unlike Tamlin, thats one of the reasons why hes sooooo much better supposedly, so how come he dresses like Tamlins slightly more goth cousin??

And what kills me even more is that I think actual 19th century european court clothes would suit Rhysand so well, like you know that style of suit with the shoulder pads with those weird little dangly strings, it has a kinda militaristic vibe and its often worn with a sash and a bunch of medals? Cmon, Rhys would absolutely slay that and it would fit his personality too. whatever, does he atleast wear something cool for Starfall? or for when he goes to reanact Feyre's sexual assault in the court of nightmares? Or is he just wearing that one fucking tunic thats just black but it has silverthreads worked into the fabric for thise scenes?? whatever, its midnight I gotta stop rambling about this shit and go to bed good nightttt

[mizuruifan-9]

have you watched the 真壁寂室 × bakui MV series? if so, i would like to know your every thought 😌

YAYAYAYYA I'm gonna write these as I watch them to give my thoughts!!!!

For kyoken yakotan I think the guy from it is a struggling artist/writer who is trying to write something that has value. He was wealthy and I think he had high standards for things but then he ran away from his parents, I think he didn't agree with their values, so when he became an adult he left. People think it's weird since ya know, he lived a good life there, but he didn't like it and it wasn't for him I think.

my hc name for him is Yoake Sakka Fuyuan! He’s 28, Singapore descent, and likes poetry :3 November birthday :3

look at him he go groovy :3 the song itself is peak I love ❤️❤️❤️

next !!!! sanmonmusoutan sounds more angsty! Likes he's not getting something and there's frustration! there's the hat guy from before and I guess he's the villain? maybe Yoake offered him something an he didn't like it? Or he's forced to offer something up. He seems distraught at this. it shows a woman who does not look like his mom, maybe he has to sacrifice her or something? She seems important, she's probably close to him. And at the end he wears a disguise so maybe he's a spy?

wait....... sanmonmusoutan is your username!!¡! whoa nene.....so cool....did not know that....

I think he's becoming poorer after leaving his parents? Also cause being a artist don't make you shit 💔 He needs money to live and is now looking for anything which is why he went to evil hat man.

I think this one might have my favorite lines :3

okay!!! 3rd song !!! Ranmanromantan. romantic. waoh. I think he disguises to be a rich person again ? to get into a party with the girl ? I think he had to warn her about something....is it too late? He's on a mission to steal her ring .maybe to sell it. Hmmm no maybe lovers....mmmmmm angst yes yes lovers .... make em in love lalallala actually Yoake gives aroace vibes to me idk man oh and then he runs away . okay not silly lil guy . oop and now she's sad look at what you've done okay tbf maybe he had to . He looks sad. Maybe bad memories. But he have ring....ooh at the end they back together yippie!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! wait no not really um .

I'm naming the girl ummmm yīlìshābái yeah :3 Elizabeth ahh but I'm gonna call her yili (hmmmmm for her nickname spelling 伊利 or 毅力...which meaning fits her better ... perseverance or she profit 😻) anyway : 3 she's the daughter of a rich guy and she's 27! October birthday :3

mmm is he actually in love or faking it....hm.mm..or maybe fakes it and then accidentally falls in love....I think in the lyrics he mentions stealing the ring so maybe that's why he was disguised actually! Oh thatsss what she was holding maybe. Flower ring.maybe she had a ring he needed so he gave her. A fake.hmmmmmm . Idk. He says flowers are folded. Yeah he stole the ring yup yup. Mm yeah I think he accidentally fell in love with her but he can't see her again cause he was in disguise and stole something :CCC sad

And !!!! Okie dokes last one!!! Hanmon kochotan! Um I think there's four. Hopefully I didn't miss one !!!!

WAAA this one sounds so pretty especially with the colors...soft....I love his use of colors and the instrumental is so nice.....are they going to meet by fate again mayhaps...

Oh it writes the order in the comments...I watched it in the wrong one.........backwards.........eh it's okay probably..... That makes more sense now because Yuli appears later and he's like :0 her....

I think Yoake wants to be alone and calm down. he goes to another town to spend the night and enters an abandoned house which scares him a bit so he goes out in the field for a break and !!!! sees her !¡! yays!!! And she goes there to see her parents grave so I guess they're dead 💔 I guess it was her parents ring? She's confused on why he stole it. She goes there by train in a plain dress since being rich doesn't define her. I think they both feel a bit hopeless and unsure. But this is. A bit better :) they spend time together <3 bloom like butterfly :3 yippies !!!! I think she leaves at the end but with a piece of him in her. Remembered <3 I think they forgive each other. Yays <3 I think he ? Sold the ring to big hat man though

uhhhh yayayayayayay that's my thoughts ;;;;;!!!!!thank you for showing me 🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶 sorry if I am horribly wrong about everything I'd live to learn more I like this ❤️ love bakui san and mmmmm yummy music and story and characters om nom nom nom

also I think Yoake tries to act cool and mysterious but bro is Not cool and mysterious

anygays I love Yuli my sillay ❤️ both sillays actually

[leejenowrld]

hi sophie! i’d love to hear more about the babies while they’re still little, those first years are so special and i know there must be so many moments that don’t make it on the page. could you share some of the early babyhood snapshots and rituals in their universe?

what was it like the first time all the cousins met as infants? was it total chaos, or was everyone just in awe that these little humans existed?

do you have any favorite bath time scenes, jeno or mark kneeling by the tub, baby laughter, toys everywhere, the adults soaking up every minute?

is there a cousin sleepover tradition? do all the babies nap together, or build blanket forts, or have nights where they all end up in one big bed?

what were some of the “firsts” you loved most, first words, first steps, the first time one of the babies called y/n “mama” or jeno “dada,” or toddled onto the court with a mini basketball?

are there any early sibling or cousin jealousies or rivalries? how did y/n and jeno (or mark and areum) help junnie adjust to sharing his parents, or help the girls learn to play together?

any stories of baby mischief? paint, flour, kitchen chaos, or moments when one of them got everyone else into trouble?

what was it like the first time all the cousins met as infants? was it total chaos, or was everyone just in awe that these little humans existed?

the first time all the cousins met is this bright, sticky memory in the family’s collective heart, total chaos and total awe at the same time. there were bassinets lined up side by side in the living room, a blur of soft blankets and mismatched socks, babies blinking up at the ceiling fan, fists waving. every adult hovering, snapping a thousand photos, half-crying and half-laughing as they compared little noses and tried to figure out who’d end up with whose dimple. someone always had to be fed, someone else needed a new diaper, and still everyone crowded close, jeno, mark, y/n, areum, quietly stunned that somehow all this beauty and wildness had found its way into their hands.

do you have any favorite bath time scenes, jeno or mark kneeling by the tub, baby laughter, toys everywhere, the adults soaking up every minute?

junseo loves bath time with jeno, a little routine they’ve perfected over the years. jeno lets him choose which toys get to sail that night—tiny boats, the same navy duck he’s loved since he was one. jeno helps him make the tallest bubble hats, lets junseo “paint” soap on his arms, always patient as junseo chatters about his day or asks the big questions—“do you think my baby sister will like the water?” sometimes, jeno sits on the floor and sings softly, while junseo leans back, eyes fluttering closed, trusting completely in the safety of his dad’s hands.

haeun’s favorite is bathing with jaemin, he brings the magic. jaemin always comes prepared with a new bath toy or a silly game. he draws shapes on the foggy mirror with his finger, writes “i love you” backwards for her to decode, makes her giggle with stories about bubble mermaids and secret underwater kingdoms. he pours water gently over her curls, kisses her nose, and lets her decorate his arms with foam. sometimes, when she’s tired, she presses her face into his chest, thumb in her mouth, and he holds her until the water cools, humming lullabies until she’s soft with sleep.

chaeun’s bath time is a whirl with areum, who makes every evening a new adventure. areum lets her pour the soap, choose the “sparkly” towel, and pick out which pajamas she’ll wear after. they play peekaboo behind the shower curtain, and areum always ends the night with a whispered promise that “tomorrow, we’ll make even more bubbles.” if chaeun is cranky, areum rocks her in the water, forehead pressed to her daughter’s, both of them finding comfort in the warmth and quiet.

serin is the smallest, and her favorite is being with you, her mama. you cradle her in the crook of your arm, run a soft cloth over her skin, and whisper little secrets and love notes just for her. serin’s eyes are huge, following your every move, her hand always gripping your finger. you sing the same gentle song each time, one that means home, and as the bubbles fade, serin melts against you, milk-sweet and sleepy, her little body trusting yours entirely. after, you wrap her tight, nestle her against your chest, and breathe in her scent, knowing these moments are the ones you’ll miss most when she’s grown.

sometimes, when the night is winding down, all the babies tumble together on fluffy towels in the hallway, hair damp, cheeks pink, pajamas half-on. the parents trade knowing looks, exchanging smiles over the heads of their little ones, hearts so full it aches—each child wrapped in ritual, in warmth, in a love that stretches across every family line, every soft, steamy night. (bonus below)

is there a cousin sleepover tradition? do all the babies nap together, or build blanket forts, or have nights where they all end up in one big bed?

cousin sleepovers are a tradition before the babies can even talk. there are nights when every crib and mattress is dragged into the same room, nightlights plugged in everywhere, a chorus of lullabies and white noise machines humming. as they grow, it turns into blanket forts and midnight snacks—junseo reading to the girls, the girls crawling into his bed in the middle of the night, the whole heap of them asleep by morning, limbs tangled. sometimes there’s bickering (“junie, you snore!” “no, you snore!”) but mostly it’s giggles, secrets, the feeling of always belonging.

what were some of the “firsts” you loved most, first words, first steps, the first time one of the babies called y/n “mama” or jeno “dada,” or toddled onto the court with a mini basketball?

the “firsts” are all recorded and replayed endlessly—first words, first steps, the time serin toddled onto the basketball court with a ball almost bigger than her. the first time a baby calls y/n “mama,” jeno’s eyes go wide and he says, “did you hear that?” like it’s the rarest sound in the world. mark cries when his daughter says “dada,” and areum catches it on camera, a memory for every year that comes after.

are there any early sibling or cousin jealousies or rivalries? how did y/n and jeno (or mark and areum) help junnie adjust to sharing his parents, or help the girls learn to play together?

of course, there are little rifts, junseo, used to being the center, sometimes bristles when the girls cling to y/n or steal his favorite toy. the girls have their spats too, but it always ends in cuddles or someone running for comfort to jeno or mark. you and jeno help junnie adjust by giving him special time, daddy-son breakfast dates, solo walks, secret handshakes, reminding him he’s always your baby, no matter how many join the family. mark and areum do the same, teaching the girls that love isn’t pie, there’s always more to go around.

any stories of baby mischief? paint, flour, kitchen chaos, or moments when one of them got everyone else into trouble?

baby mischief is inevitable: once, all three kids got into the pantry and upended a bag of flour across the kitchen, white footprints, giggles, and a sheepish confession that it was “for snow, mama!” another time, the cousins finger-painted the living room walls in every color they could find, and jeno just laughed, grabbing the camera because “it’s only paint, but this moment will never come back.” chaos, yes, but always followed by hugs, forgiveness, and the promise that these little wild hearts will always find their way—back to each other, back to you.

bath with all four babies

bath time with the four of them—haeun, junseo, chaeun, and serin—is an entire universe of wonder and wildness, a ritual that always starts calm and ends in absolute delight. junseo, protective and the only boy, is the first to climb in, always insisting he sits by the tap “so he can help,” knees tucked to his chest, showing off how he can make the water swirl or build a tower of bubbles with just his breath. he’s the one who gently pours water over his baby sisters’ heads, careful not to let the suds get in their eyes, and hums little songs under his breath, grinning when they echo him.

haeun—so gentle and sun-bright, with curls that spring wild from the steam—loves to fill and empty cups over and over, pretending they’re making tea for everyone. she lines the edge of the tub with rubber ducks and insists each one gets a name, introducing them to serin and chaeun, her voice soft and full of story. when she giggles, it’s a bell ringing through the room, contagious and warm, her tiny hand always finding one of her cousins’ in the water.

chaeun is a little explorer, the first to try to stand up or balance on her knees, always aiming for the washcloth or the shiniest toy, never afraid to splash big and send water over the rim. she claps at every new game, cheers for junseo’s bubble crowns, and laughs loudest when serin tries to grab the floating thermometer with her chubby hands.

serin, the youngest, wide-eyed and curious, mostly soaks up the others’ energy, she loves to watch, loves to grab onto her brother’s arm or haeun’s toes, her tiny mouth open in awe. she squeals when someone makes a wave, kicks her feet, and babbles a stream of nonsense that makes the older three laugh, all of them reaching for her, letting her have the softest duck or the last scoop of bubbles.

together, their bath time is a language: soft splashes, baby babble, sticky hands chasing foam, everyone sliding closer until there’s no space between them. junseo tells silly stories about mermaids and sea monsters, haeun crowns serin “queen of the bath,” and the girls steal kisses on each other’s wet cheeks. sometimes, when the water cools and the bubbles melt away, all four snuggle together beneath the biggest towel, arms tangled and hearts pounding with joy, promising—without words—to love each other forever, every day, no matter what. bath time is their world, just theirs, and you can feel the tenderness of their bond long after the water drains away.

[trip-the-cal-fantastic]

Danny Wagner x F!OC (Bailey Parker)

Warnings: None really. Fluff. Use of pet-names, i.e. ‘Bubba/Bub, lady, pretty girl, and baby’. 

She calls him ‘DJ’, like, ya know, Daniel Jr. 

Word Count ~ 1k

Bailey Parker had a long, but productive, day. She was a photographer for a travel guide magazine, currently capturing the country of Finland. Specifically Helsinki, Finland.

Danny had gotten home from tour the day after Bailey had left for Finland, so they just missed each other. He hated how much they both had to travel, but it was all worth it when they actually did get to see each other. 

They had decided early on in the relationship to move in together. The amount of time spent with each other in the house was less than the amount of time spent on the road, playing shows and taking pictures. 

It was getting late in Helsinki, and Bailey was getting ready to retire for the night. She heard her phone buzzing on her bedside table as she crawled under the blankets. She checked the caller i.d, grinning to herself as Danny’s name flashed across her screen. She answered as she made herself comfortable in bed. “Hi, Bubba.”

“Hey, lady.” Danny smiled down at his phone as Bailey’s face came into frame. He puttered around his kitchen, putting something into the cabinet and listening to the rustle of Bailey’s blankets through the phone. “How was your day, pretty girl?”

“It was great. Got quite a few good pictures. I got a really cool picture of these two brown bears just off of a path in the forest. There were elk, a couple of buffalo, and I’m pretty sure I saw reindeer. It’s crazy how close they were to town, and no one seemed to care. The city is beautiful, too. Even with all the rain. And, the people are super friendly. I had this amazing blueberry pie at some little bakery. Oh, Danny. You would’ve loved it.” Bailey recounted her day, her face glowing with pride. It was clear that she loved what she did.

Danny listened intently as she somewhat rambled on, a small and adoring smile on his face. “That’s awesome, Bub. Sounds like you’re having a great time. But, make sure you’re not in the rain too much. You’re not coming home to me with pneumonia.” It was then that Danny noticed she was wearing his maroon Foo Fighters sweatshirt with her hair swept up into a loose ponytail and tucked into the hood.. “So that’s where my hoodie is!” Danny playfully shook his head. “You’re lucky I love you, baby. Whatcha doin’ now?”

“It keeps me warm.” Bailey giggled. “And, in a way, it makes it feel like you’re here. Anyway, I’m getting into bed. It’s like 11:15 at night here, DJ.”

Danny’s eyebrows rose in slight shock. “Wow. Really? It’s only 3:15 here.” He walked to the living room, propped his phone up on the table next to the couch, grabbed his mandolin, and sat on a pillow on the floor. He made sure he was in the frame before finding a pick and strumming the strings a couple of times.

Bailey’s soft, green eyes lit up when she saw the instrument in Danny’s lap. “Ooo! Is it concert time?” She giggled and smiled at Danny through the screen as he nodded. Her smile softened as he began to play, the sound of the mandolin washing over her. 

Bailey admired the way Danny looked at that moment. His unruly curls tied into a bun and stuffed under a hat that sat backward on his head. His white Modern Drummer shirt. The way the sunlight streamed through the windows, giving him a glowing halo. His two necklaces that he would never take off, not that he could, with them being permanent. The way he would look down while he played, as if he was shy. 

Bailey decided to capture his natural beauty, taking screenshots of Danny while he was looking down. As he finished his song, Danny looked up, finally noticing the flash of the screen and trying to hide his smirk. “Bailey…”

“What? You look cute, DJ.” She giggled and pulled her blanket up to her chin. “That sounded amazing, Bubba. I loved it.” Bailey sighed as she turned onto her side. “I miss hearing your voice.”

Danny smiled and huffed a laugh through his nose. “Bub, you’re hearing my voice right now. But, I get what you mean. I want you home already.” Danny’s smile widened as Bailey yawned and covered her mouth with the back of her hand. 

“Only a couple more days. I promise, DJ.” Bailey blinked slowly as she ran her hand over her face. “Tell me about your day, Bub. What have you been up to so far?”

“Not very much honestly. Sam and I had lunch. But, other than that, I’ve been messing around with the mandolin…” he strummed the strings for added emphasis. “...and wishing you were with me.” Danny placed the mandolin back on its stand and sat down on the couch, bringing his phone with him.

Bailey let out a sleepy giggle. “You big cheeseball.” She yawned again and snuggled down into her blanket. “I miss you, too, Dan. Are you doing anything later tonight?”

Danny shrugged. “I think the boys wanted to go out. I gotta double check with Jake about that. Dinner and drinks, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Have fun, DJ. Tell my boys I miss them, too.” Bailey took a tired deep breath. “I am absolutely wiped, Bubba. I have got to go to sleep.”

Danny chuckled as he smiled at Bailey through the phone, a look of pure love on his face. “Goodnight, pretty girl. I love you so much, Bailey.”

Bailey hummed. “Mmm… I love you, too, Daniel. Goodnight, Bubba.” She pressed a kiss to the tips of her pointer and middle finger, then pressed them to her screen. 

Danny’s smile widened once more as he copied the gesture. “Bye, baby.”

“See ya, DJ.” Bailey pressed the ‘end call’ button and plugged her phone in, placing it on the nightstand next to the bed. She let her eyes flutter shut on their own, a content smile playing on her lips.

taglist:

@tripthedharmadivine

[foolgonewild]

SIMON JUST LEARNED HE ERASED BETTY FROM THE PAST. WHOOPS!

Episode 1 : Past is Pain

[Scene: The Ice King’s tower, but something's shifted. Time feels thicker—every tick of the clock like a groan of inevitability. The fire flickers with an unnatural hue. Simon and Void are still seated. The silence between them isn’t empty—it’s waiting.]

---

Void (leaning forward, voice dripping with mock curiosity):

Also—tell me, Simon.

You remember looking for Betty… but she completely disappeared, right?

Simon (eyes narrowing):

Yeah? I searched everywhere. One day she was just… gone.

Like she skipped town and took time with her.

Void (grinning, like a magician revealing the final card):

Future you dragged her here.

So that’s why she wasn’t there back then.

Law of causality, baby.

(Simon freezes. Not just in body—his soul buckles for a beat.)

Simon (barely audible):

What…?

Void (mock-apologetic):

Oh, yes. The noble sacrifice. The desperate reach.

Simon Petrikov, king of “please let me fix it,”

grabbed Betty from her timeline, folded her into another just to maybe save her.

But that made her disappear from your past.

A paradox wearing perfume.

(*He tosses a playing card into the fire. It burns backward.)

Simon (haunted):

That… that can’t be—

Void:

Oh, but it is.

The moment she left your story?

She entered your legacy.

And now you carry that loop like a crown. Isn’t time just so loyal?

(He leans closer, eyes gleaming crimson.)

Void:

You tried to save her. I tried to keep her.

And in the end?

We both erased the very moments we cherished.

But hey—at least your madness came with a cool hat.

---

Simon (quiet, shaking):

What happened to her?

Void (shrugging, a hint of real sadness seeping through):

Depends who you ask.

To some, she’s magic incarnate.

To others, she’s a casualty with a PhD.

(Beat.)

Void (softer now):

But to you?

She’s still out there. Because you have to believe that…

Or everything you became loses its music.

(Simon turns away, hiding the water in his eyes. Void sits in silence, for once not grinning. Just… still.)

---

[Offscreen, Harmony closes her eyes. She hums a lullaby written in a future that no longer exists.]

[Scene: Later that night. The storm outside whispers names that don’t exist anymore. Simon’s tower is silent, save for the faint ticking of a broken clock that always shows five minutes to midnight.]

Simon is alone now. Void’s gone, but his words echo like smoke in the ribs.

Simon rummages through a box beneath the bed. Dust. Old letters. A cracked snow globe. Then—

He finds the photo.

---

[Visual: A faded polaroid.]

Simon and Betty, smiling in front of a dig site. She's got dirt on her cheek. He's laughing, genuinely. The sky is clear. Time hadn’t broken yet.

But something’s wrong.

---

Simon (quiet):

No way.

(He leans in. Finger trembling.)

There.

In the corner.

Where there should be empty background—

stands a young man in a purple kimono. Silver hair. Crimson eyes. Not smiling, not posing. Just watching.

Void Grimfaunt.

In his past.

---

Simon (to himself):

You weren’t there. I don’t—

How are you in this?

(He flips the photo. The back is blank. Then slowly, words begin to etch themselves in black ink, burning from nothing.)

> “I stood in every memory that mattered, Simon.

Just because you didn’t look… doesn’t mean I wasn’t there.”

— V.G.

(Simon drops the photo like it bit him.)

---

[Enter Harmony—through a shimmer in the air, harp in hand. She steps lightly, but her eyes are heavy with knowing.]

Harmony:

He wasn’t lying.

Void walked through your history the same way he walked through mine—like a ghost waiting for his cue.

Simon:

But… why?

Why me?

Harmony:

Because you’re the only one who understood what it meant to lose someone… and then chase the echo until it broke you.

Simon (gripping the photo):

I thought I was the only one who went that far.

Harmony (gently):

You weren’t.

You just lived long enough to see the punchline.

He was the punchline.

---

(The fire flickers. The photo curls slightly at the edges. In the image, Void now has a faint smile. Not cruel. Just… tired.)

Simon (soft):

I remember now.

The dig site. There was someone humming. A lullaby I didn’t recognize. I thought I imagined it.

Harmony (smiling sadly):

You didn’t.

(She plays a single chord. It's the same melody. The one Void hummed behind Betty’s laughter, unnoticed for years.)

---

Harmony:

He was always there, Simon.

Just not in ways time could explain.

---

[Scene: Marceline’s cave. Nightfall. The stars outside look off, like someone tried to draw them from memory and got the emotions right but the details wrong. She’s plucking her bass absentmindedly, when something in the melody pulls her sideways—off key, off rhythm. A note that doesn’t belong. But feels right.]

---

Marceline (frowning):

Where did that come from?

(She plays it again. Four notes. Soft. Lopsided. Like a music box that’s given up, but still trying to sing.)

Marceline (quietly):

I know this...

(She rummages through an old chest. Not one of Simon’s. Hers. Deep in the bottom is a folded paper crane made from purple parchment. It hums slightly in her hands. When she opens it, a tiny voice speaks—not with words, but with music.)

---

[FLASHBACK: Marceline, around 6 years old. Post-Mushroom War. She's sitting on a cracked throne in a ruined ballroom, legs dangling, clutching a weird stuffed fox missing an eye. Across from her, a strange man in a purple kimono is playing a lute.]

Void (smiling gently):

This one’s just for you, little bat.

Not too sad. Not too sweet. Just… in between.

(He plays the same four-note lullaby. Her eyes go wide. She doesn’t understand the words, but she remembers the feeling—like falling asleep in someone’s shadow and feeling safe.)

---

Marceline (present day, breath catching):

...Uncle Void?

(The name drops from her lips like it’s been waiting behind her teeth for decades. A memory not erased—just shelved.)

Marceline:

I thought you were a dream. Or a fever ghost.

You told me not to remember you.

(She glances at her bass. Quietly hums the tune.)

Marceline:

“But if the world forgets me,” you said,

“Just hum. And I’ll know I mattered.”

---

[Behind her, Harmony appears quietly. No dramatic entrance—just resonance, like she was always there.]

Harmony (softly):

He left pieces of himself in the people he loved.

In melodies. In memories. In you.

Marceline (biting her lip):

Why?

Harmony (sad smile):

Because he knew the gods would try to erase him.

But songs don’t forget as easily as timelines.

---

(Marceline looks down at the paper crane. The notes inside are glowing faintly.)

Marceline:

He wasn’t trying to be remembered by everyone.

Just... one of us.

Episode 1 : Past is Pain Subtext

In episode 1: Past is Pain, Void is seen talking to Simon. This is before his full Ice King transformation, maybe a few days after Simon leaves Marceline due to his increasing madness caused by the Ice Crown. Off screen, Simon asked him to look after Marceline. Void agreed. Moments after that Simon's talk with Harmony, after she left. Simon's memory was wiped by the crown and his transformation into Ice King completes.

The Lullaby : Acoustic, Classical Guitar or even a lute.

G- String

Notes : 8898.8898.8898.6.4.6(s)8(v)

Legend :

. = rest

s = Slide

v = Vibrato.