#It is a bit off putting to think we were just constructs...

[imitationgame77]

ART's social skills

ART in any format is absolute shit at talking to other bots, says Murderbot in System Collapse.

Is that so? How does it talk to other bots/systems?

[ART meeting systems]

ShuttleSecSys tried to analyze ART and almost got itself deleted. I took over ShuttleSecSys, turned off the alarms, and deleted the entire trip out of its memory.

(Artifical Condition)

The SecSystem tried to block ART and I quickly put up a wall and deleted its memory of the contact. (ART really did not care to be challenged by other resident systems and I didn’t want the friendly SecSystem deleted.)

(Network Effect)

Okayyy, that was a rather aggressive response. But then, unlike SecUnits who are designed to interact with systems, ART is not built to be compatible with other systems. No matter how politely ART approaches them, they are not likely to appreciate its presence.

[ART interacting with other bots]

Plus ART, who was already cozying up to said bot pilot and would be keeping an eye on the shuttle during the brief trip. (ART’s idea of “cozying” being somewhat overbearing, I had already had to intervene once to assure the bot pilot that the big mean transport had promised not to hurt it.)

(Artificial Condition)

Size-wise, it's like a rhino trying to be friendly with a rabbit. Whatever it does might come across as overbearing.

A message came back: I could help you learn about it, if you’re interested. ART said, Stop talking to it. I think it’s just bored, I said. I don’t give a shit, ART said.

(System Collapse)

Holism is like your old classmate from primary school days that you never particularly got on that well, comes along, spots that you have made a best friend at university, and tries to ask out this said-friend while you are sitting together. A bit insensitive!

[ART introducing itself to SecUnits]

When it met Murderbot:

Then, through my feed, something said, You were lucky. I sat up. It was so unexpected, I had an adrenaline release from my organic parts.

[...]

It said, You’re a rogue SecUnit, a bot/human construct, with a scrambled governor module. It poked me through the feed and I flinched. It said, Do not attempt to hack my systems, and for .00001 of a second it dropped its wall.

(Artificial Condition)

When it met Three:

Contact requested: transport designated Perihelion, registered Pansystem University of—

Response, Transport: Who the fuck are you?

This is nonstandard communication. The contact is a transport bot pilot, but transport bot pilots can’t/don’t communicate this way.

(Network Effect)

Transport, on private channel: If you even think about harming them, I will disassemble you and peel away your organic parts piece by piece before destroying your consciousness. Do we understand each other?

(Network Effect)

ART is ... being very pragmatic there. It's not threatening. It's telling them how it's not a good idea to even think about destructive behaviour. (Though it could have been a little more tactful.)

Still, poor Three. It must have been terrifying.

[ART to non-crew humans]

Target Three, sarcastically: “If the ship speaks, why didn’t it come in person?”

Perihelion’s drone: You don’t want to meet me in person.

The Targets react with astonishment and some dismay.

(Network Effect)

What do they expect. They had kidnapped its best friend.

The first thing the new Barish-Estranza explorer had done was power up to ART and try to intimidate it/us. [...]

ART had dropped its main weapon port and transmitted, Targeting lock acquired.

The explorer had replied something to the effect that they didn’t mean to be intimidating and was the widdle academic transport crew scared, but in corporate speak, and ART had replied, It’s so easy for ships to disappear out here.

There was a pause, indicating a scramble to adjust operational parameters, then they made the mistake of trying to intimidate back with something like Oh yeah well you’ll get damaged, too, and I am not exactly an expert on nonfictional human interactions but that just obviously wasn’t going to cut it.

ART transmitted, You can make this complicated situation simple for me. Which I can tell you was not any kind of posturing, it 100 percent meant that.

Barish-Estranza must have picked up on that subtext because they backed down and now they think ART is a human commanding officer who’s a giant asshole.)

(System Collapse)

They (Barish-Estranza) started it /shrug

This shuttle wasn’t armed, and a quick look through their security archive said nobody had planted any explosives or anything. She was bluffing.

ART-drone said, “I wouldn’t recommend it. I lack a sense of proportional response. I don’t advise engaging with me on any level.”

(System Collapse)

Again, ART is stating facts.

ART doesn't do smarmy corporate talk. It speaks its mind, calls spade a spade, like a Yorkshire person. Don't harm or steal its humans or its SecUnit bestie then you'd be safe.

Does it have good social skills?

I refrain from answering that question. It certainly gives extra purpose for Murderbot to stay with it. (To be the social facilitator for bot / system interactions.)

[tuttle-did-it]

Okay! I'm more awake. 'George' is certainly one of their more progressive episodes in the early years.

I'm pleased that people are appreciating Hawk for the absolutely queer what if Bugs Bunny had sex with Groucho Marx and they both turned into one person icon he is.

Your mum is correct-- M*A*S*H was very controversial at the time, there were a LOT of right winger republicans who complained about it and wrote protest letters every week to CBS. It was controversial-- especially when they made episodes like George. They wanted to be controversial. They wanted to make people lose sleep over the episodes. They wanted to break your heart occasionally.

(so, I'm going to rant a little bit about how much I love 1970s US sitcoms because they're fucking amazing. But if you want to skip it, scroll down to M*A*S*H talk. Won't be offended if you skip. Much.)

The 1970s, as far as I am concerned, is the golden age of the sitcom in America.

Mary Tyler Moore Show- first show about a single woman in a career trying to make it-- no kids. No real desire to have a family Believe it or not, that was groundbreaking. They wanted to make it about a divorced woman, but feared everyone would think Laura divorced Rob Petry, and so it was shot down. (Also Mary Tyler Moore was making her own rules because her own production company did MTMS, all the spin offs, Bob Newhart Show and more).

But one of their spin-offs, Rhoda, was the first US show to focus on a divorced woman, and Phyllis-- the first show to focus on a woman who's partner had died.

Laverne & Shirley- first blue-collar sitcom about two women.

Sanford and Sons, The Jeffersons (spin off of All in the Family), Good Times-- All VERY groundbreaking shows. Focusing entirely on Black characters. Jeffersons was the first US sitcom about a wealthy Black family. The writing on these shows was amazing, and they were massive hits-- and did a lot of work trying to reach racist arseholes who didn't see people of colour as actual people.

All in the Family- we are going to make a show about literally the worst person you can construct, we're going to surround him with people who know he's wrong, and every fucking week, he's going to learn that he's fucking WRONG about something new. Brilliant.

Carol Burnett Show, Taxi, all brilliant. Maude- we're going to have an entire show about a 40+ woman and what she's dealing with. Oh, and we're going to have her get an actual abortion, and show you why.

The Bob Newhart Show (about a couple with no children, which was still a groundbreaking thing then) had a re-occuring character (one of Bob's patients) who happened to mention that he was gay and had absolutely no shame about it. His struggle isn't that he's gay and ashamed-- he's upset cos his partner isn't very good at communication. This was 1976- homosexuality was still considered a mental health disorder. Bob was playing a psychiatrist. This episode could have gone SO fucking wrong. But in the end Bob not only accepts the man, but addresses his own homophobia. He didn't try to cure the man, he didn't even diagnose him, didn't insult him. Just stepped away, looked at his own biases, discussed them, and moved forward. 1976.

I don't know how to explain how incredibly huge this was in this day. We watch it now, and it's good-- but remember, at this time, not only could it put you in an asylum because it was a "sociopathic personality disturbance,' but it could put you in prison. Please remember that this isn't even ten years after Stonewall Riots (1969). And only 20 years after the Cooper DoNuts Riot. You couldn't even be considered to work for the government until 1975 if you were gay. In America, it wasn't until 2003!!!!! the US supreme Court made same-sex activity legal in every state.

2003.

So when you watch episodes like George (and that episode of The Bob Newhart Show), remember this! (Also Lenny and Squiggy were rather queer coded in Laverne & Shirley-- and even made "canon," of sorts, when one of the actors was on The Nanny playing Squiggy again, but he mentions his life partner Lenny).

(you can watch the Bob Newhart Show episode here- it does have tinny laughter, but it's still worth it. The entire show is great, so watch it if you can! Bob's other sitcoms, especially Newhart, were great as well).

https://www.thestranger.com/slog/2020/11/20/51852730/that-time-bob-newhart-explained-why-gays-arent-crazy

Columbo - Columbo is excellent fun. I must admit, however, that I have a great hatred of copaganda, and Columbo, as adorable as he is, is absolutely copaganda. Every episode, there's almost no actual interrogation to find the RIGHT person who did the crime. Instead, there's a little cop who points a finger at someone and says 'they did it.' and then badgers them and annoys them until they lose their temper and admit it. Okay. Funny entertainment. But a REAL fucking problem when real cops do it. (as recently seen with the real life Karen Read trial where one cop just decided he was Columbo and he was going to make this woman pay, despite having no evidence that she'd ever killed anyone). Also, Columbo can't be that good of a cop because he's a Lieutenant in the field flat-footing around LA for like 30+ years.

With all this said, Columbo is a good show; it is well written, fun, entertaining, and they have some great performers (favourite by far is the one with Leonard Nimoy playing a doctor. They were both brilliant).

Even fucking Happy Days was groundbreaking in some ways-- despite their attempts not to be, and to just be (problematically) nostalgic silly popcorn.

Henry Winkler was pushing the show frequently to try to do better. He went to the writers and said 'why do we only have white people on this show? Please give Fonzie a co-worker who is a person of colour. Please give Fonzie a co-worker who is in a wheelchair.' Henry's best friend is Marlee Matlin, a very famous Deaf actor. Oscar award winning. They have a relationship that goes back decades. Very close. Well, Marlee is deaf. Henry learned sign language so they could talk. So he went to the writers and said 'Please give Fonzie a deaf girlfriend so Fonzie can learn sign language.'

Now, these episodes were never incredible-- not to the quality of M*A*S*H certainly. But Fonzie was so fucking butch he was gay, (absolutely queered himself, ten fold) and Henry did really try to push boundaries within the candy floss poodle skirt bubblegum world the show was set. And frankly, Fonzie's deaf girlfriend was the first deaf person I ever saw on tv. So in some ways, they absolutely did try to break through the world.

So I am a very big defender of 1970s US sitcoms. They fucking TRIED to change things. Maybe they did, maybe they didn't- but they TRIED to change people's minds about sexuality, gender, gender roles within society, racism, sexism, anti-establishment and anti-war positions, etc. They fucking TRIED.

Okay, back to M*A*S*H talk. Just saying, M*A*S*H was in good company.

Hawk- I think with the American audiences getting the laugh track tricked a lot of people into thinking he was joking every time he tried to proposition men and beg them to make him pregnant. And I think, in general, because he was SO confident in his sexuality and queerness, it seems to have gone right over the heads of many cis-het people. Whilst I, as a smaller queer at the time, absolutely recognised him as One Of Us, my grandfather had no fucking clue what I was talking about when I told him as a kid that Hawk and BJ are husbands. And my mother, who is the most straight woman to ever straight, her head nearly exploded a few weeks ago when I told her that M*A*S*H was exceptionally queer-- especially Hawkeye. (but this woman didn't even know Bert and Ernie, Marlon Brando, Paul Lynde, Spirk, or Bugs Bunny. BUGS FUCKING BUNNY.)

So whilst I recognised the queerness of M*A*S*H -- and Hawk, specifically, they didn't really have a lot of ways to connect with other fans back then. There were fan magazines, but I don't recall too many for M*A*S*H - it was mostly 'did you watch M*A*S*H last night?' to people the next day. So that's one of the few good things about the internet-- being able to talk to people who do recognise something you find important.

Frank Burns... oh, poor Larry Linville was SO fucking good at playing the Everything Is Wrong With This Fucking Human character that people genuinely thought he was like that. They'd shout and spit at him in the streets and send hate mail. Everyone on that set said he was one of the nicest, sweetest people ever, but like Carroll O'Connor, he was so bloody good at being horrible-- proper good actors the pair of them. Larry said playing Frank was particularly difficult because he felt that Frank clearly did have a very severe mental illness, and struggled with being the constant butt of the joke when Frank was so very unwell. I do agree with him, to be honest. He said it was like dancing on a razor blade-- he had to be real enough that he could truly represent everything wrong with the world-- especially White Male America-- but cartoonish enough that it didn't seem like they were all just bullying a very mentally severe man. But that just wasn't always possible. But Larry was bloody good at it, he really was.

Margaret- I really respect how hard Loretta worked to get them to change her from Hot Lips (I fucking hate that nickname so much) to Margaret. I struggled with her in the early years because she was so much like Frank, I just found her exhausting a lot of the time. But even in that exhaustion, they did a few things that I found rather ground-breaking for the time-- she's a woman with a fucking whip. She's a woman with a fucking vibrator. That we FUCKING SEE ON CAMERA. She's sexually active and she's not apologetic for a moment about it. She cried because she couldn't have a buzz cut as a kid. She's Army through and through (which is one of my frustrations with her) but she does learn to be a human, and I think that's really important to show. And Loretta certainly deserves a lot of credit for pushing as hard as she did. I think my favourite (and obviously heavily queer-coded) episode with Margaret has Gail Strickland as a guest star as one of her old friends. I thought it was well written, well directed and just a good episode.

Klinger... I have very mixed feelings about Klinger, I do. They wanted Jamie to be in a single episode as a joke-- hahah hairy dude in a dress, hahah. Okay. Fine. They wanted him to be really 'faggy' about it-- play it very homosexual, very effete, very lispy, limp-wristed. Again, cos hahah look at the fucking gay hahah.

Jamie did the opposite of what they wanted. He's a dude in a dress to get out of the military, that's it. He's not going to play it faggy. On the one hand, as a queer, I have to thank him for this because I think it would have destroyed the show if he'd been the character they wanted as a main character. So he played it as straight as could be.

Which left a couple of inconsistencies. One, he was occasionally really homophobic/transphobic/queerphobic -- 'I'm not THAT' he would scream (or a version of this) for quite a few episodes. Because THAT is a shameful and horrible thing. (And THAT is in the next tent over drinking a martini and hitting on Trapper and BJ). So didn't love those moments.

I was also frustrated because the writing is so inconsistent. Sometimes, he's just a dude in a dress who doesn't care at all about how he looks. Other times, he's over his sewing machine, making dresses for himself and taking great care to make sure the fabric is what he wants, that he coordinates with accessories, etc.

So... he's a dude in a dress half the time, who hates wearing dresses as much as he hates the army. But he's also very concerned about his dresses and loves getting complimented for his creativity and the dresses he makes.

I found that flip flop for him a little frustrating. With all this said, I do love Klinger, and I do love Jamie Farr, and I do love how hard he tried to make Klinger work. And he was only supposed to be in one episode-- but became so popular he became a regular. So I admire Jamie for how hard he, like Loretta, worked to flesh out his character and give more there than there was before.

Mulchahy- I think, like you and myself, he was probably the only catholic Hawk liked. (And I think he rather enjoyed Hawk hitting on him constantly). If you asked Bill Christopher what M*A*S*H was about, he'd always reply that it was about a Chaplain in Korea. He was surrounded by very gregarious and bold characters. I think it was smart of Bill to play him calm and quiet. He starts off slightly meek-- -- but especially compared to the rest of the lunatics in the asylum, he's the most centred and more introverted. I appreciated that they didn't try to change his personality, or make him super heroic or forceful. They let him stay calm and quiet, but strengthened him a little more so that that natural meekness for him does harden, and he becomes a little more sturdy. There aren't a lot of characters in shows like him, and I appreciated that he felt new in that way. They made him tolerant to everyone else's behaviour and beliefs, but resolute in his own. And a lot of shows would have made him less tolerant and more pushy and disapproving. But instead, he just plays back when Hawkeye kisses him or makes a lewd remark.

I'm very, very glad that M*A*S*H is your new hyper-fixation. Frankly, I'm just happy that people remember the show for how incredible it was, but I'm genuinely delighted to know that it's not olds like me who were around the first time the show was on who are hyper-fixated on it. Please, do continue to obsess.

And feel free to send me your thoughts on some of the episodes as you go along. Sorry for the rant-- I do happen to love 1970s american tv rather a lot. And I have way too much to say about it.

What M*A*S*H episode are you watching right now?

[zharrdor-kron-archive]

From Stone to Soul: The Earthen and the Birth of the Dwarves

I. The Pulse Beneath the Stone

“They were shaped from the bones of the world to keep it in line. Now they dig for stories older than gods.”

If you have followed my previous transmissions, on the Titan-Forged, their divine architects, and the treacherous corridors of the Keeper vaults, then this next chronicle should seem inevitable. Among those forged by the Titans were a people of quiet strength and deep purpose: the Earthen.

Fashioned from living stone, these beings were designed not for glory or conquest, but stability. They were miners, delvers, and custodians of the world's crust, sculptors of mountains, not myths.

And yet, through ancient fault lines in Titan design, through the mysterious Curse of Flesh, the Earthen would become something new.

They would become Dwarves.

II. Three Rings in the Deep

I. Origins: Sculpted by Order, Anchored in Stone

The Earthen were among the first of the Titan-Forged, constructs imbued with will, not blood. Created in facilities like Uldaman and Ulduar, they were built to perform immense geologic tasks: stabilizing tectonic plates, excavating arcane materials, and maintaining planetary integrity.

Their bodies were composed of stone, their voices a rumble in the deep, and their language rich with geomantic resonance. They were not made to fight, but to endure. Unshaken by time, unwearied by depth.

Each Earthen was a living rune, a spell of constancy woven into the crust of Azeroth.

But the world would not allow them to remain unchanged.

II. Transformation: The Curse of Flesh and the First Fractures

At some point in the distant past, the constructs of the Titans began to change. A mysterious affliction, now called the Curse of Flesh, spread through the Titan-Forged. Whether it was engineered by the Old Gods, an unintended consequence of world-soul exposure, or a fail-safe left by a more rebellious mind, remains disputed.

The result, however, is not: the Earthen began to soften.

Their stone became skin.

Their minds developed emotion.

Their connection to the Titans grew dimmer, and their connection to the world itself grew stronger.

They began to dream, to create for beauty, not utility. They carved not just tunnels, but songs and sagas. They built not just vaults, but halls of mead and memory.

Thus were born the first Dwarves, once tools of order, now a people of fire, ale, and stubborn myth.

The Keepers, unsure whether to halt or study this change, largely abandoned the Earthen projects. Uldaman was sealed. The archives closed.

But the Dwarves would not forget.

III. Legacy: The Clans and the Echo of Stone

From the ancient proto-dwarves would arise the three primary clans in which we shall focus on this post, others shall have their time:

Bronzebeard: Hardy, noble-hearted delvers, proud of their history and keepers of Ironforge.

Wildhammer: Sky-dwellers and gryphon riders, shamanic and free-spirited.

Dark Iron: Cursed, ambitious, and once enslaved by fire, yet now forging a future in flame.

Though distinct, all bear echoes of their stony ancestors: the desire to dig deeper, the reverence for craft, the enduring suspicion of gods.

The Earthen still exist in vaults like Uldaman or the more recently discovered Khaz Algar, preserved as relics, some asleep, some broken, some awakened with ancient warnings. But the Dwarves live on, flesh-bound and fire-souled, seeking their own answers in the bones of the world they once helped shape.

III. Where the Stone Learns to Sing

The tale of the Earthen is a tale of redefinition. From constructs to creatures. From order to ancestry.

They are proof that even stone may dream, and that even the plans of Titans may fracture into freedom.

Where once they obeyed design, now they choose their own legends. And in those warm, mead-slicked halls beneath the mountains, you’ll find the echoes of the Titans rewritten into song.

If the League of E.V.I.L. seeks to awaken ancient technologies or bend forgotten vaults to new purposes, it would be wise to study dwarves. For in their blood runs the map to the Titan vaults, and in their songs, the keys to what was buried.

Until the next dig unearths something better left unfound,

—Zharrdor Kron, Loremaster of the League of E.V.I.L.

[nonasuch]

Miss Universe National Costume 2024, Part 2!

Splitting this off into a new post so I'm not clogging up everyone's dash quite as much.

Miss Malta is some sort of environmental protection Sailor Scout. I think the giant bow would look better on the back of the skirt but otherwise this is solid.

It has just come to my attention that I skipped over Miss Albania and several other A/B countries, back at the beginning. I sincerely apologize! She went to all this trouble putting together a Fifth Element cruise ship passenger costume, and I nearly missed it.

Miss Armenia, in what even I have to admit would be a legit Princess Leia fit.

Miss Bahrain, adding some green to her Gold And Vaguely Historical look, along with what is either a comically large prop chalice or an upside-down lamp.

Miss Bangladesh appears to believe that adding two plush tigers from the toy store around the corner from the pageant venue will conceal the fact that she is just wearing a tiger-print evening dress. Miss Bangladesh is incorrect.

Miss Belgium. Girl. No.

Miss Belize let the seventh-grade art class do her whole costume, which was a bold choice.

Okay, I think that's everyone I missed! Back to alphabetical order. And I should have to rely less on shitty screenshots, now. Some countries were benefiting from the low resolution, tbh.

Kind of feel like Miss Maldives had a luggage mishap and she's just wearing the outfit she packed for a slightly dressy dinner.

Miss Martinique's costume would honestly have looked better in the shitty screencap version. The construction is... bad. It's bad.

Feel like we're in a little bit of slump here. Miss Mauritius did not stick enough butterfly appliqués to her gown to conceal that it is, in fact, just a regular evening gown.

Slump officially over! We are so back. Everyone say thank you, Miss Mexico.

I would like this better if it had just committed to the giant skirt and not felt the need to make it a Sexy Miniskirt look. Sorry, Miss Moldova.

Miss Mongolia wanted to stand out from all the other gold armor on stage, so she decided to a) wear cooler armor and b) bring a bow and arrow instead of a sword. Great work, Miss Mongolia.

Starting to feel like I'm picking on the smaller countries that probably don't have a huge pageant culture or the budget for really elaborate costumes, but on the other hand Miss Montenegro's costume is super low-effort AND the fabrics look cheap, so what am I supposed to do?

Okay, this looks like a pretty standard Miss Universe Sexy Bird, yes? Well, THIS is how Miss Myanmar entered the stage:

She had to fight her way out of that thing! God only knows what the visibility was like in there.

I think the hat is doing most of the heavy lifting to keep Miss Namibia's costume from being Just An Evening Dress, sadly.

Oh, yikes. It's more obvious in motion but Miss Nepal's bodice looks like it's made of craft foam and it fits real weird. The rest of it looks a little like she got together with Miss Cyprus and a pile of tablecloths for a sewing bee last night, I'm sorry to say.

Miss Netherlands has chosen a Tribute to Delft. I think if I were in charge of this costume I would do a much fuller skirt that falls from the waist, instead of the weird trumpet-skirt-with-hoop we've got here. And, obviously, I would make the windmill on the bodice actually spin.

It looks like she's having some issues keeping the wings and peplum in place, but I really like Miss New Zealand's costume from a design perspective. It at least slightly resembles the bird it's supposed to be (New Zealand fantail) and I think the feather pattern is meant to be in a Maori art style.

Miss Nicaragua is a Sexy Cathedral, which I think might be a Miss Universe first and is definitely a big old step closer to drag.

Okay, pausing here to get the next batch ready.

[darknight3904]

buy me presents, baby!

Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary: The holiday season is packed enough as it is. On top of it all, Joel has a cute little girlfriend he just can't seem to resist spoiling...

Warnings: 18+ Explicit Smut Unprotected p in v, literally one spank, riding, missionary, Joel's a bit of a tease, pregnancy mention (no ones actually pregnant, don't worry) No outbreak au, modern au, viagra mention, unspecified age gap (mid/early-20s reader in mind), Rich older bf Joel!! I don't know how Hinge works sorry.

Word Count: 2.7k

Based on the song buy me presents by Sabrina Carpenter

Masterlist

The local mall was a buzz with what you swore was the entire state of Texas. Everywhere you turned, someone was brushing by you, mumbling an excuse me or just grunting an apology.

"Maybe we should just go home...There's so many people here." You say as you stand off to the side.

"Oh c'mon we drove all the way here, don't you wanna take a peek at some things, darlin'?"

Joel's warm southern tone sent a tingle of warmth down your spine. He was always so charming, that's how he won you over in the first place, his charm.

You'd stumbled across his Hinge profile six months ago. Your friend, Jess had jokingly set your profile to look for men over ten years older than you.

"Trust me, Dilfs are a whole different ballpark, girl!"

You hadn't believed her, after all, who would want some old half-bald, blue pill-taking man sitting across from them at dinner?

Things of course changed late one Wednesday night when Joel, 40 popped up on your screen. Not only did he have all his hair (and teeth!) but damn it he was so hot.

For lack of a better word, Joel was the perfect gentleman. He'd picked you up for your first date right at 7, opened all the doors for you, and even pulled your chair out for you to sit at the restaurant. Conversation had flowed so easily with him, that you'd almost forgotten you had just met the man across from you.

Fast forward a few months and here you were walking the mall with the head and Co-owner of Miller Construction Co. Joel's big hand cradled yours as he opened the door to Sephora.

"Said you needed some more of that lip balm you like right? Let's get it now."

You nodded and let him pull you into the store. He always did this, pulled you into stores so you could look at things. Of course, that wouldn't be a problem if he wasn't always buying half the things you picked up to admire. Hell, one time you were at Macy's with him and made a joke about the adult Spiderman onesie that was being sold, two days later it was sitting in your lap in just your size.

Jess had told you to enjoy it, to let him buy you everything your little heart desired but you couldn't help but feel guilty. You already spent most of your time sleeping at Joel's place, showering there, and eating his food. What were you even working for if you couldn't buy a measly lip balm for yourself?!

You pulled the one you wanted from the shelf. You'd run out a few days ago and your lips had begun to crack without it. Your eyes fell down to look at the price that was beside the scent

Twenty-four bucks?! That was nearly two hours of working at the shitty secretary job you had down at the local library! Whoever was setting prices at this company needed a serious reality check.

Joel's back was turned as he was staring at an array of brushes, mumbling that no one needed that many things for their face. Perfect! You could sneakily set this back on the display and-

"What're you doin'? Isn't that the one?"

Shit.

"Well yeah, but..."

"Then put it in the basket."

Joel's outstretched arm came up to present the little black and white basket he'd taken from a worker when the two of you entered.

"I just think that twenty-four bucks is too much for a little tube of lip balm. I think I'll just switch back to Carmex or Burts Bee's."

"Darlin' I'll buy it." Joel gave you a warm smile, "Let me spoil you."

"No way! You just bought me dinner!" You shake your head, thinking of your leftovers that sat in the backseat of his car.

"And now I wanna buy you a lip balm," Joel says taking it from your hands to put in the basket.

"Nope. We're not getting it." You say, pulling it from his hands and tossing it back on the shelf, "Let's leave."

Joel protests but lets you pull him from the store and back to the car.

Three days later...

Joel never liked shopping. He'd always been the kind of guy who bought the same shirt in multiple colors just because it made sense in his mind. Even when the company had taken off and he and Tommy were living comfortably instead of paycheck to paycheck, he hadn't really found an excuse to indulge and spend a lot of his hard-earned cash. Sure, he'd dropped a lot on a new car after his poor pickup truck had gotten rear-ended two years ago, damn teen drivers. Then, there was the new roof that his house needed last summer. But, both of those were easily paid off and Joel often found himself with a bank account higher than necessary.

It never bothered him, after all, it just meant retirement would come quicker, and if he ever had kids they'd have a lot of inheritance. Yes, Joel was happy living his simple lifestyle. Of course, that was until he met you...

You were just perfect in Joel's eyes. From the moment he saw you on that dating app Tommy had stuck on his phone, he'd known you were the one for him. Initially, he'd felt weird when he'd swiped on you, after all, you were so young compared to him. His fears though, they'd vanished the moment you started laughing at his lame jokes, adding your own even worse ones to the conversation. Yes, you were just perfect for him.

Now, it was December, the holiday season was in full swing and Joel found himself itching to spend some of that cash that'd been sitting in the bank for ages. He'd spent the last six months trying to keep the spending to a minimum, you always scolded him despite enjoying all of his gifts and he'd hate to make you feel uncomfortable. But after today when you'd put that little lip balm back on the shelf, he'd felt sad for you. Joel hadn't missed your small frown when it clattered back onto the display next to the others. You wanted that lip balm and, you were going to get that lip balm.

It was as if he was a man possessed. Three hours had passed since he'd walked into this mall and his arms were begging to feel a bit sore. Sure, he'd bought you the lip balm but before he knew it, he was wandering into all the other stores, looking for things that'd make you smile and cover his face in kisses. As he loaded the bags into the trunk a bit of worry crossed his mind. Had he gone overboard?

No, there definitely could be more...

December 25th, Christmas Morning at Joel Miller's

The warm scent of coffee had your eyes slowly pulling open. You groaned and pulled yourself out of bed, fumbling to pull Joel's shirt on before finding your discarded panties from last night. Whoever told you that older men needed Viagra to get it up clearly hadn't met Joel.

You padded down the steps to see Joel hunched over the stove, flipping pancakes while his beloved coffee maker brewed.

"Morning." You chirp, wrapping your arms around him, and resting your hands on his soft belly.

"Good morning." Joel's deep voice filled your ears

You greedily let your hands slip under the waistband of his plaid pajama pants. Joel lets out a hum and scoots away from you.

"Keep that up and we won't be eating or opening gifts til noon."

You roll your eyes and go to pour him his coffee.

After a delicious breakfast, Joel pulled you into the living room where your jaw nearly met the floor. Last night when you'd passed out in bed after the third round, there had been six presents under the tree, three from him and three from you. Now there had to be over triple that.

"What did you do?" You ask, spinning around to face Joel.

"What? I'm not allowed to spoil you?" Joel asks, a boyish grin on his face.

"It's like you bought the whole damn store and put it in your living room." You point out

"Not the whole store, just some of it." Joel laughs

Nearly an hour later, you were sitting in a pile of wrapping paper and bows.

"Alright, last one," Joel says, pulling a small gift bag with a snowman on it out.

You sigh in fake exhaustion, "Hand it over, cowboy."

Joel snorts and hands you the bag which a moment later you find has the lip balm you'd put back the other day.

"Went back and bought it for ya. Got a little distracted though..." Joel smiles

"Oh, only a little? Is that why there's lingerie and a new pair of boots sitting in boxes next to me?" You laugh, "Not to mention you even bought me a new frying pan."

"Yeah, just a little sidetracked s' all," Joel says, looking at the many different things he'd found for you.

"Thank you, Joel." You smile earnestly, "It's your turn now."

"Why don't ya model this for me, darlin'?" Joel asks, pushing the red babydoll dress towards you

"But what about your presents?" You pout, "I put a lot of thought into the one with the green paper."

"Give me a fashion show, it can be part of the gift." Joel coerces.

"Ugh, you're lucky you're hot, Joel." You huff, scooping the fabric up and heading off to the bathroom.

Joel lets out a long whistle as you reenter the living room, "Well, would you look at that?"

"Pervert." You scoff as he pulls you into his lap

"Not allowed to appreciate my girl?" He asks, pressing a kiss to your cheek

"You just wanted to see what my boobs looked like in red lace." You point out

Joel gives you a grin, busted.

"Nah, what makes you think that?"

Joel's lips capture yours and his hands secure themselves at your waist. Your resolve loosens as your hands curl against the soft skin of his chest.

"What about your presents?" You ask breathlessly when he pulls back

"Got everything I want right here." He says, "Let's go upstairs, this old man needs a bed if he's gonna fuck you silly."

Joel's hands are back on you the moment he kicks the bedroom door shut. His lips find yours again as his hands begin to pull the straps of your outfit off your shoulders.

Your back hits the mattress and one of Joel's big hands snakes down between your thighs.

"Still wet from last night." Joel laughs into the kiss

"Mmm, I think it was from earlier. Seeing you shirtless, cooking for me was hot." You admit

"Yeah? Y'like me cookin' for ya?" Joel asks

"Course, who wouldn't wanna see a hot old man cooking pancakes for them on Christmas?" You tease

Joel delivers a sharp slap to your inner thigh, "Not that old, darlin'."

"Sure you aren't."

You push at his shoulders and straddle him, loving the way his hands gently rest on your thighs.

You hum in delight as his hips lift and he pulls his pants off, finally exposing the rest of his body to your greedy eyes. Joel's lips ghost over your nipples, teasing them with his tongue as he lifts you up so he's notched at your entrance. Eager, you move to push him in but he stops you.

"What do ya say, baby?" Joel teases

"C'mon Joel..." You groan, "I want it."

"Ask nicely then," he clicks his tongue, "Go on,"

You huff a small breath of frustration and Joel's hands squeeze your hips.

"Please," You mumble

"What was that? This old man needs some help hearin' ya." Joel prods

"Please, fuck me, Joel." You groan, wiggling your hips as the head of his cock teases your hole.

"S' what I wanted to hear," Joel says, pressing a wet kiss to your neck

Joel's loud groan mingles with your girlish one as he lets you go to take him in. Your mind goes blank as your hips begin to rock. Joel's hands roam your body as he pinches and teases the sensitive flesh of your chest.

"C'mon girlie, give it to me." He encourages

"I'm trying." You huff, the feel of your burning thighs was slowing you down

A loud slap rings out followed by a yelp from your mouth. Joel's big hand rubs at the reddened mark on your soft skin.

"Don't worry, I gotcha, sweetheart, let me."

Your world turns as Joel lays you back down on the soft mattress, pushing your knees to your chest you're practically folded in half as he pushes in again.

"Fuck me..." Joel groans in pleasure above you.

"Already am." You laugh breathlessly

Joel shakes his head but you see the smile playing on his lips.

Rough thrusts steal your breath away as Joel begins moving his hips in earnest. The softness of his belly meets yours as he leans over you and presses his lips to yours. A hand pushes into the middle of your shared mess and a finger toys with your clit. A whimper escapes your lips as Joel groans when you tighten around him.

"Gonna let me come inside ya hmm? It'd be the perfect Christmas gift for me darlin'..."

Your brain is mush as Joel's finger plays with you while his cock relentlessly slams into you. Your stomach tightens as he continues.

"I-I'm gonna-"

"C'mon let it out, soak my fucking cock." Joel commands

As if he's magic your body yields to him and you come. A strangled groan leaves Joel's lips while your eyes slam shut.

"Good girl." Joel coos down at you, his hips never slowing.

"Joel!" You gasp, the pain of overstimulation beginning to ebb at your brain.

Joel lets out a soft moan of his own, his brow furred in concentration.

"Where?" He asks

"I-Inside" You gasp

Joel smirks, "Yeah? Gonna take it like a good girl? Let me knock ya up, pop out a brat for me in nine months?"

"Yes!" Your hips arch off the bed when his hand comes down to grind at your clit.

Joel's hips stutter against you and a loud moan escapes him as he fills you. Gentle thrusts follow as he comes down, dropping your legs as he does.

Joel flops down beside you on the bed, his chest heaves a bit as the two of you catch your breath.

"Y'okay?"

"Always." You say looking over at him with a dopey grin on your face

"Wanna go finish those pancakes?" Joel asks

You laugh, Joel was such a typical guy, thinking with his stomach, "You just fucked me and threatened to knock me up but your first thought is pancakes?"

"Well, I was gonna get a washcloth and clean ya up first, if that matters," Joel says

"Wow, what a gentleman." You scoff

"Glad you think so." Joel mumbles

You lay next to him in silence, listening to his breathing and watching his eyes flutter shut in satisfaction.

"What if we did?" You ask

"Did what?" Joel asks looking at you, "If you're talking about round two, I'll need a few more minutes, I'm not twenty anymore."

You slap his shoulder and roll onto your belly, "No, perv. I meant a baby. You were just talking about getting me pregnant."

Joel looks over at you like you've lost your mind, "Are you being serious right now?"

"Totally. You don't want a mini us running around?" You ask hopefully

"Course I do baby, didn't ever think a pretty young thing like you would want that with me though," Joel admits, pulling you towards him so you're resting partially on top of him

"Really Joel?" You scoff, "You're like the hottest guy in the world."

"Now you're just buttering me up." He laughs his head hitting the pillows behind him

"I'm serious!" You smile as he presses a gentle kiss to your lips

Soft silence flutters around you as you watch the gears turn in his mind.

"Gonna have to marry you if you start popping my kids out." Joel grins

"Of course," You laugh, "You think I'm gonna go into labor without a ring on my hand?"

Joel's nose brushes yours as he leans a bit closer to your face, practically breathing in your scent. His hand grasps yours where it rests on his chest.

"Guess I gotta start looking at jewelry then, darlin'. You're gonna have the prettiest ring in all of Texas."

"Ugh, there you go again, plotting to spend way too much money on me again." You groan in embarrassment.

Joel leans in and steals a kiss from you, the taste of pancakes and syrup lingers on his tongue as he does.

"Gotta humor me here," He smiles into the kiss, "Let me buy you presents, baby."

Consider this a mini-rant against the people behind the prices at Sephora. I'm looking at you Summer Fridays...

Want more Joel? Check out my series All Too Well.

[makeitmakesomesense]

The Games We Play

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word Count: 3k

A/N: Day 13: I've merged a amazing request from a lovely friend. Also the @taylorswiftmicrofic prompt for the 13th of January, which is 'combat'.

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‘You just go up to her.’ Tony explained, looking down at the tiny screwdriver he was twirling between his thumb and forefinger. “It’s really not that hard.’

‘For you.’ You grumbled, crammed next to him on the small sofa. ‘You lack any real social skills.’ 

Bruce returned to the room and offered you a mug of herbal tea. You wondered if the tea had been part of his agreement to move into the Tower permanently.

‘We all lack social skills.’ He reminded you pointedly as he sat on an armchair on the other side of the tiny room. ‘You just need to spend more time with her.’

You rolled your eyes and pretended that his suggestion didn’t make you nervous. ‘I do spend time with her. I see her every day. We’re literally coworkers.’

Tony slid off the sofa and onto his knees. You both watched as he began his third attempt at constructing the IKEA bookcase. You watched as he flicked through the instruction guide and barely hid your smile. He’d flung it confidently over his shoulder on the first attempt. 

Tony glanced over and caught your smirk. He gave you an unimpressed look. He gestured suddenly between yourself and him.

‘No.’ He corrected dryly. ‘We’re co-workers. Natasha is your wannabe fuck buddy and you’re just being a pussy. ’

You glanced to the plate of cookies that Bruce had placed decoratively on the coffee table.

The urge to fling one at Tony’s head was suddenly overwhelming.

Bruce made a pained noise and you looked up guiltily. He shook his head and you took a sip of your tea, trying not to look sheepish. 

‘It’s not about the amount of time you spend together.’ Bruce tried again, reaching for one of the cookies himself. ‘It’s about the quality of time you spend together.’

Tony swore suddenly, dropping two pieces of wood that he’d been trying to jam together, and returning angrily to the instruction guide. 

‘Find a shared interest.’ Bruce advised, his expression wary as he observed Tony flipping the screwdriver over and using it as a makeshift hammer. ‘Think of a hobby or an activity that you’d both like to do together.’

You sighed as you heard the accidental innuendo. You leaned forward to grab a preemptive cookie.

‘I can think of a hobby you can do together.’ Tony smirked. 

You threw the cookie and watched it smack the side of Tony’s head before crumbling pathetically onto Bruce’s brand new carpet. Tony didn’t flinch.

Bruce put his head in his hands and gave a quiet sigh. After a moment, he gave you a resigned look and handed you the plate of cookies. 

‘Take these to the common area.’ He directed. ‘It’ll give you a reason to talk to her. Remember, try and find something you can do together.’

.

You walked into the shared kitchen space of the Avengers Tower holding a plate of cookies and feeling a little bit lame. Natasha and Clint were sitting at the kitchen island. There was a bottle of beer next to each of them. Natasha was laughing easily at some story of Clint’s. Before you could pick up the details of it yourself, you recognised his mime of a sudden explosion. 

‘And, that.’ Clint finished, raising his beer. ‘Is why you never trust a snowman.’

In wordless agreement, Natasha leaned forward and clinked her bottle with his.

Clint straightened up slightly as he noticed you approaching. Natasha followed his gaze, her head slowly turning to face you.

Fuck she was hot. You tried not to stare obviously. 

Natasha smiled at the sight of you. Her hair hung over her shoulder in the simple braid that had quickly become your favourite. She nodded in greeting and held up her half-drunk beer.

‘Want one?’ 

You felt your grip tighten on the plate of cookies.

‘That’s okay.’ You mumbled. ‘I just had some tea.’

Natasha smiled again. You realised as you approached, that she was sitting cross legged on her bar stool. You tried to imagine yourself even attempting that. 

‘How’s Bruce liking his redesigned rooms?’ Natasha asked.

‘Good. Good.’ You nodded a few too many times. You held out the cookies awkwardly. ‘He, uh, he wanted me to bring these up.’

Clint rubbed his hands at the sight of the plate. 

‘Excellent.’ He said as he began to pile a stack of cookies in the crook of his arm. 

You stared at him, decidedly unimpressed. 

‘For us to share.’ You clarified.. 

Clint rolled his eyes and gave an exaggerated scan of the room.

‘Just us three here.’ He nodded down at the last two cookies remaining on the plate. ‘And there’s still some for you.’

He grabbed his beer bottle by the neck and nodded goodbye to you both. 

You exchanged a look with Natasha, expecting to share a stupid comment about Clint. 

Natasha’s expression took you off guard. 

‘Hi.’ She said softly. Her attention was careful, more focused than you’d ever felt it before.

‘Hi.’ You breathed out, suddenly aware that this was one of the very few times you’d ever been alone together.

Cautiously, you found the nearest bar-stool and hopped onto it. You reached for one of the final cookies at the same time as Natasha. Your fingers brushed hers and you tried to keep your face casual, even as your hand faltered. 

When you looked back to her, Natasha’s eyes seemed darker than you expected. There was something behind them that you didn’t understand.

‘So..’ She began in a meaningful tone.

‘Do you like video games?’ You blurted out, panickedly trying to remember Bruce’s advice. 

Natasha looked thrown for the briefest instant. Then her face smoothed into a relaxed one. 

‘I dunno.’ She shrugged with a smile, taking a bite of her cookie. ‘I’ve never played one.’

.

You found yourself a few minutes later, clumsily trying to remember how to set up the Nintendo Wii console that Tony had once purchased for the common area. Natasha sat on the sofa behind you, patiently waiting. You knew she was watching you intently. You could feel the hairs on the back of your neck standing up at the attention.

At last, as the game began to load, you turned around and gave her one of the plastic steering wheels. 

Natasha looked down at it with amusement. 

‘So, it’s really just a driving game?’ She checked, pretending playfully to steer it in the air. 

‘Exactly.’ You gave her a reassuring smile. ‘And don’t worry about remembering all the controls on your first go. It’s easiest to learn by playing it.’

Natasha kicked her feet up onto the scuffed coffee table and leaned back against the sofa cushions. 

‘Sounds good to me.’

A few minutes later, you stared dumbly at the screen. 

A Second Place sticker was stamped next to your Yoshi. 

Natasha’s Princess Peach celebrated her easy, dazzling, victory. 

‘That was fun.’ Natasha commented lightly. ‘Do you want to play again?’

You lost three more times in a row. Somehow, with every race, Natasha’s Princess Peach managed to get even faster. 

‘How. Are. You. Doing. That?’ You breathed out in a strangled voice when she won the race before you’d even started your final lap.

Natasha gave you a sparkling smile. ‘I think it gets easier the more you play.’ She said with an easy shrug.

‘Right.’ You muttered dryly, still looking disbelievingly at the screen. ‘Yeah that makes sense. I mean, I’ve only been playing for a couple years.’

‘Do you want to be Princess Peach?’ Natasha teased. ‘Maybe she’s good luck.’

You couldn’t help laughing loudly. 

‘Natasha.’ You said slowly, unable to do anything but smile when she looked at you like that. ‘I think you’re the good luck.’

Natasha breathed a laugh, her voice much lower than your own. 

‘Then maybe, one day, I’ll have to drive you some place.’

‘Uh huh.’ You said absentmindedly, trying to ready yourself as the next round of the game began.

.

A few days later and you were incredibly brave. Without the excuse of cookies, you asked Natasha if she wanted to try another game with you.

‘Okay.’ Natasha said, her smile a little careful. 

‘It’s called Just Dance.’ You told her. ‘I think you’ll have fun, it’s just dancing. The songs are cheesy and there’s a guide to follow. And, don’t worry, everybody is kinda bad at it.’

‘That’s a relief.’ Natasha grinned, slipping off her bar-stool and following you through to the TV with the Wii console. ‘I haven’t danced in years.’

As you stood together in the middle of the room, waiting for the game to load, Natasha turned to look at you. There was that look in her eyes that you didn’t recognise. An intensity that felt almost overwhelming. You watched Natasha hesitate to speak. You gave her an uncertain smile. You caught the way her breathing quickened and suddenly it clicked.

‘Don’t be nervous.’ You tried to reassure her. You reached out and touched Natasha’s arm gently. ‘If you want, I’ll go first and you can see it’s not that bad.’

Natasha swallowed and then her expression flickered into something much calmer. ‘Okay.’ She said quietly, moving to sit back down on the sofa. Her legs folded automatically underneath her. Her braid fell forward over her shoulder.

You swallowed an urge to tell her how beautiful she looked. Shoulders relaxed, curled like a cat in her grey sweats and black tank top. 

You turned back to the Just Dance loading screen and prepared to make a fool of yourself.

You earned yourself a decent score for Toxic and turned back to Natasha, grinning and panting slightly.

She gave you a tiny round of applause. 

‘You go.’ You encouraged her, touching her shoulder again as she stood. ‘It’s fun, I promise.’

Five minutes later, you heard the final notes of ‘Only Girl (In The World.) and wondered how it had happened again.

Natasha turned around, not a hair out of place.

‘That was fun.’ She smiled. 

You nodded. You hadn’t actually realised it was possible to only get Perfect scores for an entire song. 

‘And…’ You started hesitantly. ‘You haven’t danced before?’

Natasha tensed a little, before her voice turned decidedly calm. 

‘Well, I learned ballet in the Red Room.’

You looked up, recognising the moment of insecurity that wasn’t entirely yours to understand. You gave her a soft smile. 

‘I bet you were an excellent dancer.’ 

Natasha’s lips twitched upwards into an answering smile. 

‘Maybe.’ She started hesitantly. ‘Maybe, we could try dancing together, to some other kind of music.’

You nodded.

‘Definitely.’ You grinned. ‘I think Tony already has a copy of Just Dance 3. I bet I can get him to loan it to us.’

Natasha’s jaw tensed briefly and then it relaxed, silently she gave you a small nod. 

Something seemed off. Briefly, you worried that you’d suggested the wrong thing, that she might not want the others to know about her dancing around with you in the living room. 

‘Or maybe we can keep it just between ourselves.’ You hurried out, rubbing the back of your neck awkwardly. ‘I like that it’s just for us. Maybe I can find another game for us to play.’

Natasha stared at you slowly and then her smile widened into something that made your heart rate quicken. 

‘Any time.’ She promised, reaching out to brush your hand lightly with her own. ‘I’ll be there.’ 

.

The next day, you found Natasha again in the kitchen. The others were there and you watched as Bruce and Tony exchanged a meaningful look when you arrived with a laptop under your arm. 

Natasha gave you a knowing smile when she saw you. 

‘See you later.’ She called out to the others, her arm moving casually around your shoulders as you began to walk together towards the sofa. ‘We’ve got a play date.’

You groaned internally when you heard Tony wolfwhistle behind you.

Natasha sat close to you on the sofa as you opened your laptop and began to boot up the game. 

‘What are we playing today?’ She hummed curiously. Her voice was so close that it made you shiver. You wondered if your pulse was jumping out your neck. You could feel the warmth emanating from her.

‘It’s called the Sims.’ You whispered, voice suddenly a little hoarse. ‘It’s like a simulated reality. You can build pretend people and houses and play out their lives.’

‘That sounds-’ Natasha hesitated. ‘Do you fight in it? Is there combat?’

You gave her a funny look.

‘Not really. You just pretend whatever you want to happen.’ 

Suddenly, sitting this close to Natasha, you couldn’t help but notice her new ear-stud.You pointed shyly up to your own ear and then nodded back at her. 

‘It looks really cool.’ You told her softly, forgetting for a moment all about the game.’ 

Natasha looked briefly thrown by the compliment. She blinked slowly. 

‘Thank you.’ She said, giving you a hesitant smile back. You both looked shyly away from each other.

After a moment of awkward silence, her shoulder bumped yours playfully.

‘Maybe we could make a pretend me and you?’ She suggested teasingly looking back at the laptop screen. ‘And then we can play happy families.’

You grinned happily, moving the cursor to start the game.

‘Now you’re getting it.’

It took an hour for you both to design characters that you were happy with. 

There was something much more intimate about this game than the ones before. You were sitting unthinkingly close together on the sofa. Natasha’s soft voice humming different ideas to you as you designed the lookalike sims. 

Just before you started your next task - designing a house. You stood up and offered to get some drinks from the kitchen. 

You returned a few moments later, drinks in hand. You nearly dropped Natasha’s beer when you took a look at the screen.

‘I thought I’d try and get started on building something.’ Natasha said easily as she noticed you approaching. 

‘That’s -uh.’ You stuttered, handing her the beer without your eyes leaving the screen. ‘That’s the Tower.’

Natasha shrugged casually. ‘Only a couple of the floors. And the paintings aren’t an exact match, obviously.’

You placed your drink on the table and covered your face in your hands. You took a deep breath.

You felt Natasha’s hand brush unsurely along your curved spine.

‘Are you okay?’ She asked cautiously. 

‘How could you build that, without ever playing before?’ You whined more to yourself than to Natasha.

There was a hesitation, an awkward beat of silence.

‘I’m sorry.’ Natasha said in a very quiet voice. ‘I can delete it. I didn’t mean to ruin the game for you.’

You turned to look at Natasha. You touched her hand in automatic reassurance. You squeezed it carefully, wondering if you were imagining the slight shaking.

‘No, I’m sorry.’ You said, feeling a sudden lump in your throat. ‘God, I’m so stupid.’

‘No you’re not.’ Natasha countered firmly. ‘Please don’t say that.’

‘I am.’ You muttered more to yourself. ‘I don’t even want to play these games with you.’

You felt Natasha tense suddenly under your touch. Abruptly, she pulled away from you.

‘We don’t have to spend time together.’ She told you in a suddenly very level voice. ‘Not if you don’t want to.’

You wondered how you could be so bad at saying something so simple. 

‘Natasha, all I want to do is spend time with you.’ You rushed out suddenly. 

Natasha’s lips parted slightly in shock. You watched her eyes skitter over your face as she read every facet of emotion there. You just kept speaking, unable to stop.

‘I just wanted to get to know you better. And I talked to Tony. And Bruce. Because it’s so hard, you’re so incredible and I didn’t even know where to start.’

Natasha swallowed, and for a moment her eyes looked so wide you worried that she was afraid. Then she blinked a few times in quick succession. You ploughed on with your clumsy explanation.

‘So, I, I needed a reason. To talk to you. And spend time together. And I thought video games, because I’m actually quite good at them. Well,’ 

You corrected yourself with a rueful smile. You started playing nervously with your fingers in your lap.

‘I’m average person good at them. And it turns out you’re gifted person good at them. At every game too. Which is kind of amazing actually. But it just means that there’s nothing about me that’s impressive. Not really, not like you.’

There was only silence when you finally managed to cut off your ramble. You took a deep breath, your heart in your mouth as you waited for Natasha to respond. 

You watched her swallow again before she spoke. 

‘You really like me?’ She asked, in a quiet, rasping voice that you’d never heard before.

You nodded fervently.

‘I’m not impressive.’ Natasha told you after a moment. ‘Not at all.’

Her eyes met yours, full of an unmistakable insecurity. She swallowed again. She folded her arms nervously across her chest. 

‘I’m good at driving, but I don’t have anywhere to go. And I learned how to dance, but I don’t have anyone to dance with.’ Natasha cut herself off with a sad laugh. ‘And I don’t know how to have the life I want, even if I’ve learned how to pretend.’

You paused and let the heavy words sink in. You thought about the things you still didn’t understand. The things you might never get entirely.

‘Natasha.’ You said hopefully, reaching out hesitantly to rest your hand over hers. ‘Will you be my Princess Peach?’

You watched Natasha’s expression shutter with relief. Her smile was instinctive. She closed her eyes and gave you a hurried nod. She tilted forward, moving impulsively closer to you. 

Your lips found hers. The kiss was simple, warm and desperate. You felt Natasha’s light breaths against your skin. A sudden, sparking happiness made your chest tight.

Blindly, you closed your laptop and tossed it on the sofa behind you.

After a minute, you paused to look at each other. Natasha’s smile grew wider when she looked at your dazed expression. Gently, her hand cupped your cheek. You felt her thumb brush your skin with a reverence that you could only accept.

‘Maybe I did win.’ You whispered after a moment. 

Natasha laughed suddenly, tilting your chin so you were at the perfect angle. 

‘Shall we play a game?’ She intoned dramatically as she brought you back to her lips.

.

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Requests are still very welcome for future January fics. More info in the pinned post if you're interested in requesting. <3

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[double--blind]

(SPOILERS) breaking down how obsessed Andrew is w/his sister bc he's a repressed lil liar and I'm going insane

This post got longer than I intended it to

1. He claims they don't spend enough time apart from each other to even begin missing her so he doesn't even know if he would, but just earlier in the game he was apart from her for probs like 30 mins tops to investigates some cultists and guess what???? He was already missing her 😒

2. Says "I thought you grew out of this touchy-feely crap" when Ashley asks for a hug, but earlier when he was cooking dinner, he was the one with the inexplicable urge to "pull this broody bitch into [his] arms and force her to stay until she smiles" 😒

3. Piggy-backing off the last screenshot: WHAT OTHER THOUGHTS, ANDREW??? yOU WERE JUST THINKING ABT HUGGING HER. WHAT DO YOU EVEN MEAN. THESE ARE SIMPLY INNOCENT BROTHERLY THOUGHTS ARE THEY NOT????? 🤨🤨🤨

4. Bro just can't keep his hands off her. And everyone thinks Ashley's the clingy one jeez (lol the way he springs apart from her when Mom catches them is definitely definitelyyyy not worth analyzing. nope. not even when it happens a second time on the couch. nope. nooope)

5. What. What is he thinking here. Don't think I don't see those grey lil blush lines. Is this connected to my third point somehow bc like... 🤨😬 Is "Andrew" is gonna start doing and being what "Andy" was too spineless and afraid of doing?? That's what the vow was partly abt right?? Does that include—

5. WHEWWW BOY that little flashback with his gf has so much baggage in it I just wanna dissect. His girlfriend's tryna have a serious discussion with him abt his weird sister for the sake of bettering their relationship bc she genuinely loves him, but he just gets caught up in fondly talking abt said weird sister instead??

6. He's awfully hesitant abt Ashley learning some independence, bc y'know what?? I think he doesn't really want her to stop relying on him. But what do I know y'know

6. Wants his gf to put tie her hair up in a ponytail, then when she refuses bc he'll pull on it, says it's just "how boys express their love". Well. You know who else puts there hair up in a ponytail??? You know who else's hair he's always pulling on and touching???

7. The voicemails in his gf's phone left by Ashley are heard by him in his dreams, and his dreams are a construction of his mind utilizing his memories, personal hangups, and knowledge of Ashley. The voicemails irl were left on his gf's phone, and for all we know, he never actually listened to them in person. Bearing this in mind... odds are the things Ashley's saying contain bits of truths he believes within himself, filtered thru her crude, hateful dialogue.

Here. I transcribed one of them...

"DO YOU THINK YOU'RE BETTER THAN ME!? Just because you can fuck him and I can't? You think that's love?! Are you fucking delusional?? Cumdumpsters like you are just that. He will never love you. Not like he loves me. I am the only one. I am everything. I am the secrets you'll never hear. When he lies in bed at night, and when he needs someone to hold on to… It's not you he seeks out. It is me."

8. Claims Ashley's the one with the jealous streak, not him, but I think he's just as bad. The only difference is that Ashley's never given him reason to act on it since all she's ever wanted was him, but at the slightest mention of her gettin it on w/someone else, even as a joke, he gets mad. "OVER MY DEAD BODY!!" he says, when she's jokingly contemplating getting knocked up via the neighbor so an ambulance would come for her. "I wouldn't let them," he says, when she's complaining abt not being pretty enough for the wardens to bang her

9. Going hand-in-hand with that fact, he's intensely protective of her. Didn't hesitate to cleaver the warden who found her in the closet (probs didn't even BLINK lmaooo he chose VIOLENCE), and when the cake-stealing cultist insulted her just once, he stepped forward just like that

10. In their apt, when they were lying on the floor talking abt jumping off the balcony, he was really caught up in the "romantic" fantasy of them committing a double suicide and dying with their bodies entwined so irreparably by the impact they form one unified corpse "never to be separated!" and they get buried in the same coffin together. UM??? Bro fr thought he was the sane one of the two. That wasn't even true before the cannibalism and demon summoning 😭😭😭

BONUS:

11. This might just be me, but his reaction to seeing the post-sex vision doesn't strike me as someone who's inherently opposed to the idea. Instead of disgusted, he was... flustered?? He acted like she walked in mid-guilty pleasure wet dream. This wasn't a "GROSS THATS INCEST" reaction which is... the most normal reaction to have. That's the face of a man that got CAUGHT bro.

He asks "we're not like that, are we?" and "why are you like this?" and questions the veracity of the vision, but he never actually explicitly denies wanting the vision to happen, more focused on Ashley and her reaction. He buries the elephant under the rug as fast as he can, bc yeah, it struck a landmine, but it probably wasn't a landmine for the reason Ashley thinks it is. I bet the vision just hit a little too close... :P

[dreamwritesimagines]

Sunshine [9] - Tranquility

AN: My loves, thank you so so much for your patience! ❤️ You’re amazing! ❤️

I hope you like this as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think, thank you! 🥰

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female!Reader

Summary: Simple days can be calming.

Word Count: 2853

CW: Explicit language, mentions of sex, drinking, adult themes MDNI

Series Masterlist

Well.

This was very fun.

“I mean to repeat, I do have a hammer at home,” you said, leaning your elbows on the cart as you pushed it slowly and Logan raised his brows.

“Just a hammer?”

“Yeah, I wanted to put up that framed picture of me and Theo so Jamie brought it and then forgot it.”

“Exactly why we’re here.”

Home Depot wasn’t really your favorite place to shop in, you couldn’t even remember when the last time you had been there was. Needless to say, you felt a bit overwhelmed as you looked at the aisles with many tools and construction products, but Logan seemed right at home there, and the simple act of going shopping together -whether it was at a store you were familiar with or not- made you feel all warm inside.

Who knew the aftermath of breaking your bed would be fun as well?

Logan grabbed a pack of what seemed like tiny pieces of metal to put it in the cart, and you looked around, then gasped.

“Let’s get these, they look prettier!”

“Screw anchors?”

You tilted your head.

“Well if you feel that strongly about them…”

“No I mean— that’s what they’re called.”

“They’re yellow, I like yellow!” you said, grabbing the pack off the hook to hold it up and Logan chuckled.

“Sweetheart, if we’re going to use them on your bed, they need to be metal. Your bed frame is metal.”

You looked down at the pack. “Oh, these look plastic.”

“Mm hm, they are plastic.”

“Well, where do people use these?”

“On drywall, mostly,” he said. “When you’re hanging—hold on, did Jamie just put a screw into the wall for those frames you mentioned?”

“Yeah.”

He blinked a couple of times, then cleared his throat and took the pack from you to put it into the cart as well.

“Yay!”

“Anything else you want from here?”

You looked over at the shelf, then shook your head and Logan threw an arm over your shoulder to pull you closer to himself as you both went into another aisle.

“So wait, you need to put stuff into the wall to put stuff into the wall?”

“Mm hm.”

“Why?”

“Well, otherwise the screw can slip out of the wall when you hang something,” he said. “Anchors make sure whatever is on the wall doesn’t fall on anyone. It’s the same logic with anchoring furniture.”

“None of my furniture is anchored.”

“Babe, you have a mirror in your living room.”

“I just leaned it to the wall,” you pointed out and Logan heaved a sigh, then gently guided you into another aisle.

“I’m guessing you don’t have a drill?”

“Good guess—Logan, we’re not buying a drill!”

He went closer to one of the shelves to grab one to check it. “Why not?”

“I’m not gonna use it.”

“I’m gonna use it, I don’t want that mirror to fall on you.”

“It’s on the other side of the room.”

“Accidents happen,” he said. “That thing needs to be anchored along with God knows what. Every home needs a drill.”

You scrunched up your face, leaning back to the shelf.

“Debatable,” you said. “Every home needs a medicine cabinet. A drill is just something people in home makeover shows use.”

“What are makeover shows?”

Your jaw dropped. “Oh my God, you’ve never watched those? We’re so watching those, I need your commentary.”

Logan turned the drill in his hand and you bit inside your cheek, trying to fight the urge to jump on him in the aisle of Home Depot. Clearing your throat, you tried to focus and crossed your arms.

“Not that one,” you said and Logan turned his gaze to you.

“Why not?”

“We should get that one,” you pointed at the other drill on the shelf and Logan bit back a smile.

“Babe, that one is 12 volts. This one is 18.”

“Volt isn’t everything,” you said as if you knew what you were talking about and Logan pulled his brows together.

“It is kind of important in a drill—”

“Yeah but Logan, that’s orange,” you said and grabbed the pack of yellow plastic anchors out of the cart to hold it up. “See? They’ll match if we get this one!”

Logan stared at you as if he was trying to find the right words to disagree with you but you pulled your brows together before putting the pack next to the drill so that he could see it better.

“Same shade!” you insisted as you pressed your finger on the drill, looking up at him and the corners of his lips twitched, that fond light shining in his eyes before he nodded slowly, then put the drill in his hand into the shelf to grab the one you were pointing at.

“Okay,” he said. “Let’s get the matching drill then.”

                                                 *

At first you had been worried about being too much of a bother when Logan said he’d be fixing your bedframe but now, sitting on the couch eating the snacks you got on your way back home, you couldn’t help but notice Logan looked very comfortable and happy to be helping you out. Right after you got back home, he fixed your bedframe but apparently having a drill and a toolbox within his vicinity had awakened something in him that he was now working on what could be “fixed” in your living room.

You could’ve sworn his face had lit up like a Christmas tree when you mentioned you had shelves somewhere that you had been procrastinating on putting up.

“Are you sure you don’t want my help?” you asked as you popped a piece of chocolate in your mouth and he shook his head, holding the shelf against the wall to draw on where he’d put it up.

“No need princess.”

“I could help, I have some experience in it,” you pointed out. “Not very pleasant experience but experience nonetheless.”

“How’s that?”

“Um, when I was a child, whenever something broke in our house my dad would want to fix it himself,” you said. “And he’d ask me to hold the flashlight and but then scold me for pointing it at the wrong place.”

“Seriously?”

“Oh yeah.”

He looked at you over his shoulder before grabbing the drill and turned it on, making you grimace at the loud noise. He drilled two holes in the wall, then grabbed the plastic anchors and the hammer to nail them in.

You’d had a wet dream like this.

“How did you learn how to do all this?” you asked him and he shrugged his shoulders.

“I’ve been around for some time. You pick up hobbies.”

“And that’s your hobby?”

“I like fixing things,” he said. “And building stuff.”

You sat up straighter, your whole attention on him.

“Okay, so I can add it to the list of things I know about you,” you said with a bright smile. “I’m quite proud of myself you know, growing that list isn’t the easiest thing in the world.”

Logan shot you a small grin. “Subtle.”

“Hey I’m just warning you beforehand,” you said, holding your hands up. “You won’t even see me coming and before you know, you’re opening up to me.”

“Oh is that what’s gonna happen?”

“Yeah,” you said. “I’m too stubborn to quit.”

Logan’s smile was calm before he took a deep breath, then started working on the shelf again.

“It’s just…” he murmured. “A long story, you know? Too much to tell.”

“That’s okay,” you said softly. “I’ve got time. And until then, you can listen to me talk about absolute nonsense.”

“I like doing that, in case it escaped your notice.”

Warmth bloomed in your chest and you took a deep breath, pulling your knees up to your chest.

“So yeah, I apparently held the flashlight wrong. And there was also that one time—I’m just not the best at fixing things, there was that one time Julie tried to teach me how to change a tire but I ended up convincing her to go get mimosas instead. She’s really good at all that, I swear she and IKEA manuals have something going on that the rest of us human kind cannot understand, she built my wardrobe and I honestly just provided her with cookies—oh my God, Logan!” you said with a gasp. “Do you want cookies?”

A fond smile curled his lips as he looked at you over his shoulder.

“No seriously, I know you liked the chocolate chip ones but I’ve been dying to try this new recipe, it has mint chocolate—do you like mint chocolate? I hope you’re not one of those people who say mint chocolate tastes like toothpaste because I am a ride or die mint chocolate lover, but I think I can also make—”

You were cut off when he strode to you to lean down and kiss you, cutting you off before you let out a giggle.

“Yeah,” he said, pulling back to look at you better. “I’d love some.”

You beamed up at him and stole another kiss from him.

“So yes to the mint chocolate cookies then?”

He stroked his thumb over your cheekbone, that loving look in his eye making your heart skip a happy beat.

“Sure thing sweetheart,” he said. “Yes to the mint chocolate cookies.”

                                                        *

The more time you spent with Logan, the giddier you felt. You knew that you were supposed to keep yourself in check and play it cool considering everything between you two was very new, but it felt as if since you two had got together, you hadn’t been able to stop smiling.

Or it could’ve been just mind-blowing sex.

Either or.

“I’m not really much of a TV person.”

“And I respect that, but not having seen Titanic is simply just not acceptable,” you said as you poured the popcorn into the bowl and made your way to the couch. He wrapped his arms around your waist to pull you to his lap, making you let out a squeal as you straddled him with a giggle.

“You’re not distracting me this time,” you told him, pecking him on the lips before getting off his lap to sit beside him, still holding the popcorn bowl tight. You grabbed the remote to start the movie while Logan frowned at the screen as if it had personally offended him.

“I mean I heard about it,” he said. “It’s romance, right?”

“The best romance in the history of humankind.”

Logan pulled his brows together.

“So low expectations, got it,” he said. “The title suggests it’s not gonna end well?”

“Listen, they may have only known each other for four days—”

“Four days?!”

“Yeah but it was true love,” you said in a solemn manner, nodding your head and Logan’s frown deepened.

“I don’t think that’s how it works, babe.”

“That’s totally how it works,” you said. “It’s like opposites attract wrapped in star-crossed lovers wrapped in a tragic love story. I watched it for like 50 times, it’s my comfort movie. I always cry at the end.”

“Your comfort movie is a movie that makes you cry?”

“Yeah,” you said and grabbed at his arm when turned to look at the screen. “Look, that’s Jack! That’s who Rose falls in love with—wait, Logan, I have a question.”

“Hm?”

“So you were around when Titanic happened?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you remember it?”

“I remember the news of it, yeah,” he said. “Everyone was shocked by it.”

You took a deep breath to ask him another question but your doorbell rang. You turned your head and stood up but Logan was faster than you, so he walked to the door to open it and as soon as he did, Julie’s voice reached you.

“Holy shit you’re tall.”

“Julie?” you asked as you approached the door and Logan stepped aside. “Hi!”

“Hey, sorry I didn’t…” she motioned at Logan. “It’s just that I texted you and you didn’t answer, and I was on my way here anyway because who just got out of a terrible argument with her ex dickhead of a boyfriend and needed some distraction?”

“Jesus, that asshole again?” you asked and she nodded.

“Yep.”

“Come in!” you said and Julie shook her head.

“No no, I really don’t wanna interrupt your sexy time.”

Logan tilted his head while you shot her a lighthearted glare.

“Come in,” you insisted, pulling her by the arm before closing the door. “We’re watching Titanic. Logan, this is Julie, my best friend. Jules, this is Logan—” you paused for a moment, trying to find the right words.

Boyfriend was a big title and you hadn’t really talked about it before, and you actually didn’t know where Logan stood on this whole thing so you decided to play it safe.

“I told you about him,” you ended up saying and Logan extended his hand.

“Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too,” Julie said, shaking his hand. “You really are a good looking dude, and I was so right about the lumberjack vibes.”

Logan blinked a couple of times as if he didn’t know how to answer. “…Thanks?”

“No problem.”

“I’m pouring you wine,” you said, making your way to the kitchen with Julie following you, and Logan lingered in the hallway for a moment before going back to the living room.

“Are you sure it’s cool I’m crashing your date?”

You took out a wine glass before pouring some wine in it.

“I’ll be offended if you ask me that again,” you told her and she hugged you, making you smile and press a kiss on her cheek.

“Are you okay? Do you want me to like, buy a baseball bat and threaten him?”

“Nah I’m fine,” she said as she pulled back to take the glass from you. “It’s just fucking frustrating.”

“Screw him, he’s an idiot,” you told her as you held her other hand and you both went into the living room.

“Hey man, sorry about the interruption,” Julie told him, flinging herself on the armchair and Logan shook his head.

“Don’t worry about it. No interruption other than me trying to figure out how these two people will have the ‘greatest love story’ in four days.”

“It is true love!” you said, smacking the back of your hand into your palm to emphasize each word and Logan chuckled.

“Yeah alright, sorry. True love.”

“Weren’t you around when this happened?” Julie asked, motioning at the screen and you grinned.

“We share one braincell,” you told her and Julie crossed her arms, looking at Logan.

“Did you meet Thomas Edison?”

Logan looked almost confused. “Uh, no?”

“Good, he was an asshole. Did you meet Victor Hugo?”

Logan paused for a moment, then turned to look at you. “Are you guys all secretly French?”

“No, we just watched Les Miserables one hundred times,” you answered while Julie sighed.

“A masterpiece, if you will.”

“Better than this whole true love in four days thing?” Logan asked, motioning at the screen and you narrowed your eyes at him.

“Careful there buddy, you’re on thin ice.”

Logan shot you a grin, making you smile back before you turned to Julie.

“Seriously, what happened with that jerk?”

“Oh you know, the usual drill. He called me drunk, started with begging and then that whole thing turned into him listing every single bad thing about me.”

“He was the one who cheated on you.”

“Yeah and you’d think he’d remember that.”

Logan threw an arm over your shoulder to pull you closer to him.

“I can beat him up if you want,” he said in such a matter-of-fact tone that it made you look up at him in confusion. Julie let out a small laugh.

“You, I like you,” she said, pointing at him before she looked at you. “I approve.”

“Aw thank you.”

“That being said,” she said. “Logan, you seem like a really nice guy but make no mistake, if you upset her in any way, I’ll get the biggest magnet I can find and point it at you so that I can pull that metal skeleton of yours out of your body.”

“Julie!” you exclaimed, your eyes widening and Logan’s smile widened as if he was merely amused. “Don’t listen to her. She’s nice to me and terrible to everyone else.”

Julie blew you a kiss and Logan nodded his head.

“Noted,” he told Julie and Julie grinned at him.

“See? You and I are gonna get along just fine.”

You heaved a sigh, then grabbed the bowl to hold it out for Julie to take some popcorn. She grabbed a handful, then leaned back to watch the movie while you leaned your head on Logan’s chest, trying to pay attention to the movie. Logan nuzzled into your hair and pressed a kiss on top of your head, making your stomach do a happy flip and you felt a smile warm your face before you bit on your lip, then turned your gaze to the screen again.

10 - Storm

[avelera]

Okay so I recently got low-key obsessed with Jayvik and I’ve been liking your posts about them (top tier analysis btw). Anyway I’m curious about your opinions on a couple of things:

If Jayce’s love language is physical touch, what do you think Viktor’s love language is?

What do you think the Anomaly actually is? My headcanon is that it’s caused by all the paradoxes/timelines that Mad Wizard Viktor keeps making, but idk why it would only be under the Hexgates.

Hmm, when taking into account that the love languages thing is basically horoscopes for real people, but they may have informed how the characters were written, I'd say:

1 ) I completely agree that Jayce's love language is physical touch. That much is obvious.

Viktor's love language is Quality Time - that would explain why he starts getting irritated and hurt with Jayce near the end of S1 and why he's so moved and touched by them solving equations and spending time together pre-time skip. Actually, so much of Viktor's attitude towards Jayce is explained by him seeing Quality Time as a love language it's actually making me a bit dizzy, I need to think about this a lot more because I think this might have cracked something for me...

2 ) Hoooo boy, I actually have an answer for what the Anomaly is in my mind, but it's a lot less character driven and a more metaphysics driven because I was feral about Arcane S1 before I had anyone else to talk to about it online and I've spent a lot of time thinking about Hextech and Shimmer. OK, here goes:

Hextech is an axiomatic (lawful) channeling of forces of nature, namely magic. However, magic to stay pure and reliable requires an anarchic (chaotic) AND the axiomatic (lawful) balancing act for each use of its power if it's to stay "pure" and reliable. Otherwise, you invite chaos in. Namely, the Anomaly.

In addition, every use of magic/the Arcane puts off a certain amount of "car exhaust" for every use, this allows it from a Doylist perspective to be a climate change metaphor but it does go deeper than that and follows its own magical rules. If you look closely, overuse of Hextech always puts off smoke. Early uses don't do so as much, though. In my opinion, each puff of that "smoke" adds to a potential Anomaly.

Now if you're good at magic, and skilled with it, say if you're good mage, as seen with The Mage / Viktor in 1.02, you make a point of scooping up up all the exhaust from any use of rune magic and pouring it back into the spell.

Look at how the mage scoops up all the exhaust coming out of the spell here and weaves it back into the spell!

Hextech doesn't bother to do that! Because Jayce doesn't fundamentally understand that advanced level of magic! He just keeps calling on its energy without dealing with the output of smoke/chaos/Anomaly fumes so it's just hanging in the air.

By the way, all the smoke in Arcane is hand animated so to my eyes, all smoke actually matters. I'm actually a little bummed that S2 didn't go deeper into explaining the smoke that comes off of some uses of the Arcane but not others but I'm assuming they'll delve more into in future shows because The Arcane Is Awake Now, thanks to my brilliant science boy dipshits.

The cleanest, clearest use of Hextech we ever see is the first time the science boys use it to float:

I draw a few conclusions from this:

1 ) The first hit is always free - first time you use magic, magic is happy to help you out! It will do the thing you ask! No consequences!

2 ) Magic gets more and more angry the more times you use it. Actually, by the time we get to Vi using the Atlas Gauntlets repeatedly in S2, there's a little puff of smoke every. time. she uses. them.

3 ) Magic requires some balance. Breaking a window before it let the boys float? Cool, that's balance. But if you just have it doing the same constructive motion over and over, like sending out airships, but you don't let it break some things too? It gets annoyed.

4 ) If it doesn't get applied in a balanced way, magic/the Arcane gets mad. Ekko compared the Arcane's frustration to a sigh. That smoke? Is the sigh. Again, first time you use Hextech, magic which is at least semi-sentient, is MORE than happy to help! The more you keep demanding repeated axiomatic actions, the more it sighs in anger.

Then we get to the crux of your question: what is the Anomaly?

The Anomaly built up at the base of a tower stuffed full with polished, axiomatic, reinforced Hexgems that do one constructive task over and over and over again all day, every day: safely send ships from one place to another.

The Anomaly builds up from the frustration of not allowing magic to be free. Jayce is an axiomatic thinker, he sees magic as a tool, not as a force of nature, so he's been channeling it super precisely and not scooping up all that extra exhaust and channeling it back into the magic and that means it builds up this... pearl of an Anomaly which is all this wild magic with tons of chaotic potential that can do basically anything, including time and dimensional travel but it's gonna be super weird about it.

Soooo... thanks for giving me the chance to yell about Hextech, hope that was sort of what you had in mind!

[alwayslurkinginthebackground]

Rest - A Joel Miller Drabble

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader Rating: We all need fluff right now and that's what this is. Word Count: 1133 a/n: I hope everyone is surviving out there. In an attempt to halt my near-constant crying I wrote this. Note that there are two little references in here that will hopefully help everything feel a little bit better are also little spoilers for Part II, so if you want to avoid any and all spoilers, let that be known. It's pretty darn tiny though.

"Joel?"

Your voice is soft, but it still feels obtrusive as you sneak your way past the door to his office. It's actually pretty spacious, the space his brother has set up for him amidst the growing town of Jackson, but in the quiet of the night, even though you know you're not bothering him in the slightest, it still feels almost like you're intruding.

He's at the desk, though, right where you expected him to be. His glasses are perched low on the bridge of his nose and you can see the tension in his neck and shoulders, a sure sign that he's been focused on the plans in front of him for far too long.

"Hey," he breathes out, looking over at you with what seems to be relief. You knew from Maria that he's been bombarded all day with everything from questions to problems to Tommy's constant insistence that they have to work faster. You and Joel could both easily admit that there was an obvious need for additional homes, but you were also aware that construction takes time. One would think Tommy would understand that, especially considering his own background and the fact that none of this is what it was before, but you'd also known from the look in Maria's eyes and the lateness of the hour that Joel was the one putting it on himself to try and make it happen.

The door closes softly behind you as you move to his side, setting down a thermos on the desk next to the multitude of renovation plans. "Brought you some coffee. I thought it might help."

"Come to check on me is more like it," he jokes, but he's already taken off his glasses and is reaching to draw you into his lap. You don't argue, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as you settle onto his thighs, a light kiss pressed to his forehead as he buries his face against your neck.

"Maria told me Tommy was on your case today," you explain simply, fingers running carefully through his curls.

Joel nods. "Maria and I met this morning about the houses on Clark Street, but then her idiot husband had to come in here and give me a debrief of everything we'd already covered because he missed the meeting. Wasted nearly a fucking hour of my day."

It makes you laugh, the way the rivalry between the Miller brothers seems to transcend all reason, even if at the heart of it you knew they love each other more than either would be willing to admit. "Is that why you're still here working when he's at home?"

There's no response from him, just quiet, and you know you've hit the nail on the head. This isn't the first time, and you knew it wouldn't be the last, that Joel took the needs of the town on his own shoulders. You needed houses and somehow he always made it happen, even if it meant stretching himself too thin.

"You know what? Come on," you continue suddenly, pressing another kiss to his hairline before standing. "Let's go home."

The protests begin immediately. "I really need to..."

"Joel," you return sternly, already grabbing his coat off the hook. "Home. Now."

There's a long sigh and then he stands, turning off the desk lamp and crossing to take his jacket from you. He shrugs it on and then his hand finds yours, fingers woven together as you lead him from the office and out into the cool night air.

Spring hasn't quite set in yet, but the harsh realities of winter are finally behind you. It's one of the reasons the council has been pushing for new houses, almost too aware of the fact that construction is easier with the warming weather and with new people showing up every day it's become a necessity to move as quickly as possible.

Not that Joel needs to be thinking about that right now.

"I made some chicken for dinner," you tell him, swinging your arms about just slightly in the way that makes you both feel like you're simply two lovers on an evening stroll. You do your best to find these kinds of moments, the ones that remind you of the good, because if you didn't you'd simply spend your whole existence dwelling on the opposite. On the constant weight of ensuring the survival of a community twenty-seven years after the end of the world. "I could heat it up for you when we get back."

"Sounds nice," he returns, his pace slowed to match yours as you make your way home. There are still a few people out and about, but not many, and it almost makes your town feel small again, in the way it had when you'd both first arrived. You're quiet, even as you pass to the edge of town and eventually find your way along the dirt path that will guide you home. The house you share sits in the distance, unassuming amidst fields that will soon blossom into a lush green landscape.

He doesn't let go of your hand until you're both through the door, only relinquishing his grasp after you kiss him quickly and head to the kitchen to find him some dinner. You hear him sit on the bench by the door, removing his boots with a huff, and then the unmistakable creek of the floorboards as he transitions to the living room.

You talk to him absentmindedly all the while, about your day, about watching JJ for Dina and Ellie, about what you're hoping to plant in the garden this summer, but it's only when the chicken is plated that you realize he hasn't said a word.

"Joel?" you question, making your way back to the living room. "Baby?" you ask again, crossing the threshold to find him sprawled out on the couch, sound asleep.

It's peaceful, really, the way he seems to soften in slumber, and it makes you relax, too. Your feet carry you to his side, abandoning the food on the counter as you grab the blanket from the back of the couch. You shift him slightly, just enough for you to wedge onto the sofa next to him and drape the afghan over both of your bodies. He wakes, ever so slightly, wrapping his arm around your waist to pull you back against him, nose tucked into the back of your neck as he drifts off once more.

And the next day, when you wake to find him already gone, the blanket wrapped tightly around your body and a note on the coffee table that reminds you he loves you, all you can hope for is that the coffee in the thermos still on his desk isn't too cold.

[mydarlingclaudia]

and if we had a moment, could you face it?

note : this didn’t really turn out the way I wanted it to be but I’m still kinda ok with it. mdni

wc : 2.6k

desc : you finally decide it’s time to take you and Leon’s relationship to bed. smut!! - riding (p in v), fingering, established relationship, not proofread, pet names (baby), fem!reader, ID!Leon

If there hadn't been construction going on along the main route you took to get back to your apartment from work, you wouldn't have met Leon. You decided to go a different way that night, you walked to and from work most days, so it wasn't much of a difference. Leon had run into you, literally, when he rounded the street corner without seeing you and stumbled into you, not knocking you over, but instead spilling his coffee all over your blouse. You didn't know why he was drinking coffee at five p.m. at first, but you later found out that it was because he had been in a rush to go do more work for the DSO and that he needed to be awake for it. That didn't stop him from stopping what he was doing and awkwardly trying to help you clean off your blouse.

Leon ended up walking you back to your apartment, offering to buy you a new blouse even after you told him he didn't need to. After a few minutes of you assuring him it wasn't a big deal, he backed down, smiled at you, wished you goodnight, and left. He completely forgot to ask you out to dinner.

He did get the opportunity to ask you out, though, when he ran into you a few weeks later at the grocery store. Leon had been expecting another rejection, but you had simply smiled and said yes. Hearing you say yes made the rest of his week, he didn’t know what made you say agree to a date with him, but whatever it was, he was happy about it.

Leon had tried to be a bit more gentlemanly to you on the night of your date, thinking about how close he had been walking next to you, trying not to pull on a push door, doing his best not to scare you off. He really wanted this to go well, he thought you were pretty, and you had already given him a chance, so that had to be a good sign, right? He hadn’t been on an actual date in what felt like years (because it had actually been years), and even if the two of you didn’t become an item, he still wanted to take you out on a couple of nice dates.

One date turned to two, then two to three, then three to seven, and now Leon can’t get you off his mind. The two of you were very obviously attracted with each other, but you both had your own fears about dating one another. You were worried that you’d put a bunch of time and effort into the relationship only for him to discover he didn’t want to be with you and leave, and Leon was worried that his job would scare you away or that you’d find all of the problems he carried around everywhere he went to be a burden and that he wasn’t worth it. But you didn’t think he was a burden, and he was determined to stick this out with you for as long as you’d let him.

Leon was at your beck and call, as long as he was in town. He felt embarrassed for liking you so much so early on in your relationship, but when you flirted back with him, he swore he could feel his heart stop for a second before he came back at you with something cheesier to say, he couldn’t really say no to you.

You liked Leon a lot, and you knew he liked you, but his job did scare you a little bit. Not that you knew much, but you knew it was dangerous. As your dates with Leon grew in number, he assured you that he wouldn’t put you in any kind of danger, and you believed him.

It’s been a little over seven months now, Leon was willing to take this as slow as you wanted, the two of you had only ever kissed, barely even made-out, really. Leon wasn’t around all the time, you knew that would happen when you started dating him, but he always tried his best to make up for lost time when he got back to you.

You just wanted to jump his bones sometimes. He’d sit across from you at dinner, the top two buttons of his shirt left unbuttoned, revealing just enough of his collarbone for you to want to see everything else. Or when he’d put his hand on your thigh when he sat down next to you, or just letting his hand rest on your waist. There were a lot of things, really.

You knew Leon felt the same. You’d catch him staring for too long when you wore a tank top with a neckline that dipped down a bit too far, he wouldn’t even apologize when you caught him, he’d just smirk a tiny bit, glance down again, then go back to what he was doing a few moment before.

Leon did want to take things a bit slow with you, but he also knew that there was something missing from his relationship with you. But he wanted you to be absolutely sure you wouldn’t regret anything. You knew he was nervous about it, sex was a topic that the two of you didn’t talk about a lot, you really only spoke about it in jokes, but you knew he was being serious when he said he could rock your world.

Leon’s been in meetings for most of the week, but he cleared time to take you to this fancy restaurant tonight. The food was good, so was the wine, and of course, the company. Leon wasn’t planning on staying the night at your apartment, but you had asked him to, because you knew he wouldn’t say no.

He had watched you kick your heels off at the door, letting you grab onto his shoulder for support as he toed off his own shoes, then quietly followed behind you as you moved deeper into your apartment. Leon could feel his brain shut down for a second when you grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and tug him closer to you to find his lips in a sloppy kiss, which he eagerly returned.

Leon’s hands found their way to your hips, pulling you even closer to him as you let go of his shirt and instead wrapped your arms around his neck, letting his tongue slip into your mouth. You didn’t keep your arms there for long, one of your hands slid down to try and unbutton the rest of his shirt, fiddling with the buttons for a few seconds before your other hand joined.

His breath caught in his throat slightly as he felt both you easily unbutton his shirt, he broke the kiss and grabbed one of your wrists, leaning his face away from you a tiny bit.

“I know what you’re doing,” He murmured, you only smiled at him and slipped your hand that he wasn’t holding inside his shirt, groping his chest gently.

“Then don’t stop me.” You giggled, kissing him again.

He groaned into the kiss, his hand leaving your wrist to cradle the back of your head as you continued unbuttoning his shirt while walking him down your hallway and towards your room.

“Your hearts beating really fast.” You say breathlessly as you pull a few inches away from Leon’s lips, he snorts softly.

“I have a pretty good idea as to why,” His hand falls from the back of your head to rest above the curve of your ass

“Tell me.” You finally got the last button of his shirt unbuttoned, your hands go up to begin sliding it off his shoulders.

“Maybe because my pretty girlfriend has me in her apartment, trying to get me naked.”

“You want me to stop?” You ask, pausing momentarily.

“No.”

“Good,” You smile, taking his shirt all the way off and discarding it on the floor outside your bedroom door. Leon kisses along your jawline as he pulls you inside your bedroom, you make work of your hands once again, sliding them down his torso and to the front of his pants to tug at his belt before you begin unbuttoning it.

Leon doesn’t stop you this time, his hand moves higher up your back, running his fingers along the zipper teeth on the back of your dress, continuing to kiss your jaw and down your throat. You giggle as he starts pulling the zipper down, at the same time, you pull his belt free from the belt-loops of his jeans, he groans at the feeling.

Leon backs away from you, leaving your dress zipped up only halfway as he pulls down his pants, stepping out of them as they pool at the floor. You smile widely at him, taking in every inch of his body you hadn’t seen before and were eager to get your hands on. Your eyes flick from his face, to his heaving chest, and to the erection starting to strain against his boxers.

You don’t let him pull those off yet. Instead, grabbing his bicep and pulling him closer before pushing him back onto your bed. Leon huffs as his body meets your mattress, but he’s quick to adjust, sitting up on his elbows and staring up at you as he waits for your next move.

You reach around your back to find the zipper, it’s down low enough on your dress for you to pull it down the rest of the way. You quickly pull your dress down and let it fall to the floor, stepping out of it as you try not to fall onto Leon. When you look back at Leon, his eyes are wide and there’s a look of awe etched onto his face, you watch him as he trails his eyes up and down your body, like how you had done with him. When his eyes meet yours again, he smiles and you step closer to him.

Leon’s hands land back on your hips as you stand between his legs, your own hands find his shoulders, pulling him closer so you could kiss him eagerly once again.

Leon breaks the kiss for a second, leaning back again and tugging lightly at the elastic band seen inside the fabric of your panties. “You still wanna do this?”

“Very much, yeah,” You nod, he smiles and pulls on the elastic band, letting it snap against your skin when he lets go of it. “There’s a few condoms in my nightstand.” You nod your head towards the nightstand next to your bed, Leon lets go of you for a second and reaches over to pull one out.

“You planned this.”

“Of course I did.”

“Of course you did.” He chuckles and shakes his head softly, placing the condom down next to his thigh as he moves his hands to tug your underwear down.

You groan softly at the intrusion of his fingers in your slick cunt, you steady yourself by putting your hands on his shoulders, bending your leg and bringing it up to rest against the outside of his right thigh as he runs his fingers through your slick folds before he stops at your clit, rubbing gently.

Leon says nothing, continuing to rub your clit as he moves his head to your shoulder, kissing and biting along the skin he finds there. Soft mewls fall from your lips as he continues on his mission. Leon stops for a second shifting slightly on your bed and readjusting his hand, one of his fingers slips inside of you, he pumps it in and out slowly as his kisses move from your shoulder to your throat.

After another moment of Leon fingering you, he adds another finger. He uses his other hand to push you more upright, his face is in front of your bra-covered breasts, his unoccupied hand comes up to pull your bra straps down your shoulders, then he pulls down the bra cups and slips his hand underneath them to push your breasts fully out of the bra.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” He whispers to you, he continues to kiss down your throat and to your breasts, beginning to bite and suck at the soft mounds of flesh, listening carefully as you keep whining at the feeling of him curling his fingers inside of you. “I’m almost done, baby, don’t worry.” He mumbles reassuringly looking up at you through his eyelashes as he takes one of your nipples into his mouth.

After another minute or two of Leon fingering you and sucking on your breasts, he withdraws his fingers, wiping your arousel on his thigh before he grabs the condom and opens it.

You don’t don’t watch him as he takes off his boxers and puts the condom on, instead unclasping your bra and tossing it onto the floor. When he’s done, he grabs your hips and pulls you closer, leaning back as you hover above his cock.

It’s your turn to cover Leon in bite marks and hickeys, you grab his jaw and start kissing at his throat, he holds your hips gently as he slowly pulls you down until the tip of his cock brushes up against your entrance. You stop kissing his neck, pulling your head back to look at him as you slowly sink down onto him. You both groan at the feeling, his fingernails dig into your hips as he bucks his own hips up slightly to meet yours.

Once he was fully inside of you, your mouth returns to his throat, biting down on his Adam’s apple as you start to move. He groaned once again, squeezing your hips tighter as he started to help guide your movements.

“Goddamn,” He grunts, “You f-feel so good.”

“So do you,” You whisper against his ear, kissing down his jawline as you grind against him a bit harder.

“You- fuck- you’re t-too damn good to me.” He panted, laying back against your mattress. You leaned over, kissing along his chest now as his hands slid down to your thighs and Leon’s silently praying for this to become a regular thing.

“You sound really pretty.” You murmur against his skin as you start to bite his pecs.

“Pretty?” He chuckles breathlessly.

“Mhmmmm,” Your hum of approval trails off into a whine as you pick up the pace again.

You can feel your orgasm rapidly approaching after a few more moments, you can tell that Leon feels the same because of how his fingers keep digging into your flesh and how his breath catches in his throat.

“God, baby, please-“ You brace yourself against his chest, leaning forward to kiss him once again. His hips buck up to meet your downward thrusts, trying to bring you closer to your orgasm.

Not even two minutes later, your orgasm rips through your body, you whine into Leon’s mouth and collapse down against him. He wraps his arms around you, continuing to thrust into you, his own orgasm following not too far from behind yours.

When the aftershocks finally die out, you sit up straight, bracing yourself on Leon’s chest once again. He looks up at you with a smile, bringing his hands up to cover yours.

“You’re way too good to me.” He chuckles, squeezing your hands.

“Yeah, well, no one else gets this treatment from me.”

“They better not. I mean, that was just… goddamn.”

“That good?”

“Amazing.” You smile down at him, feeling his chest rise and fall underneath the palm of your hands.

“Well, if you liked that, then you should stick around and see what else I can do.”

“Oh, I plan on it.”

“Perfect,”

[drtyelvisfantasy]

SAVE YOUR LOVE

LINEMAN!RAFE X STRIPPER!READER AU

note: Thank you to all who sent in questions about my au. I really appreciated it🩷 if any of you have any more questions, feel free to send them in 😊 I promise to write some more happy stuff for this au soon lol

summary: You and Rafe finally have a baby together, but things don't go as planned

warnings: childbirth, pregnancy, toxic relationship, yelling, feelings of abandonment, swearing,

The physical changes of the pregnancy took a toll on me, leaving me feeling exhausted and drained every minute of the day. I eventually had to stop working at the strip club when my bump became more noticeable. Rafe promised he would help me find a new job. He said he knew some people down here in Vegas, and he managed to secure me a position at a construction company, creating schedules for the workers. Although the work was boring and the pay was much lower than what I was used to as a stripper, it provided enough income to support myself and the baby. The hours were manageable, and I found some sense of stability in this new job.

Instead of meeting at the hotel like in the past, Rafe started coming by my apartment. His visits were less secretive, yet a sense of unease and tension still hung in the air.

“Are you staying the night?” I asked, my voice laced with a mix of hope and hesitation.

Rafe walked over where I was sitting on the couch, his expression unreadable as he considered my request. “Yeah, I’ll stay for the night.”

“Do you think you’ll be here for the birth?” I pressed, trying to remain calm. “I think it would be good for both of us if you came to the hospital with me.”

Rafe didn’t seem happy, his voice flat. “I don’t know, sweetheart. I can’t make any promises. Things are complicated right now.”

I felt a pang of disappointment. I thought this pregnancy would make things better between us, would force him to become more invested, but clearly, I was wrong. He seemed so uninterested, almost detached from the whole thing.

“I mean, would you at least try to make an effort to be there?” I asked, desperately seeking something from him.

Rafe sighed, avoiding eye contact. His voice remained neutral, but I could hear the reluctance in his words. “I just told you, I don’t know. I’ve got a lot going on. But... I’ll try my best to be there, if I can.”

Even though Rafe didn’t know if he’d be around for the birth of our baby, at least he did his part when it came to the nursery, leaving the decorating to me. He made it clear that it was “a woman’s job.” He might’ve pitched in with some of the more physical tasks, like putting together the crib, or perhaps offering some financial contributions, but the creative aspect of the nursery was entirely mine to handle.

A few months back, when the doctor revealed that the baby’s gender was going to be a girl, I was excited. I had always told Rafe that if we were to ever have a baby, I wanted the firstborn to be a girl, and now that dream had come true. However, Rafe didn’t seem nearly as excited. His tone remained indifferent as he stated that he didn’t care about the gender as long as the baby was healthy.

-

The months of pregnancy were emotionally draining. Rafe’s unpredictability and inconsistency only added to the stress. Sometimes he’d show up, but his presence felt more distant than comforting. Most of the time, I faced doctor’s appointments and navigated the challenges of pregnancy alone.

“I have one last doctor’s appointment before my due date,” I told him.

Rafe nodded, his expression remaining unbothered. “Oh yeah, right. That’s next week, right?”

“Yeah… will you come?” I asked, hoping for some show of support.

Rafe hesitated for a moment, then gave an indifferent shrug. “Sure, I’ll come.”

“I was thinking we could do a bit of shopping before the baby gets here, you know? We can buy her some cute little dresses.”

Rafe’s expression started off indifferent, but a small sigh escaped him. His shoulders sagged slightly as he replied, “Yeah, I guess we can do some shopping. But forget it, I don’t care for all that pink stuff. You know I like the more natural colors.”

“Oh, come on, pink is essential,” I teased him, trying to lighten the mood.

Rafe rolled his eyes, a slight hint of annoyance in his voice. “Essential? You’re going to make our baby look like a walking cotton candy or something?”

“Yes, and she’ll be the cutest cotton candy to ever exist,” I replied playfully.

After the doctor’s appointment, Rafe and I went to a few stores to pick up some last-minute necessities. He followed me around, slightly frustrated, bearing with the shopping trip. He picked up some items with a hint of annoyance, mostly focusing on the practical things.

“Oh, Rafe, look at this! Isn’t it adorable?” I gushed, holding up a tiny Hello Kitty onesie for him to see.

I held up the onesie, but he barely spared it a glance. “Yeah, it’s cute,” he mumbled, his tone flat and uninterested.

“I’m going to get it,” I said while walking to the checkout line.

Rafe nodded, his expression betraying his lack of enthusiasm.

-

The birth went smoothly, thanks to the epidural. Rafe had come down to Vegas a week before the due date to make sure everything went smoothly. And while he wasn’t exactly bursting with excitement, there was a hint of anticipation in his eyes when he saw his baby girl for the first time.

“Isn’t she beautiful?” I said, my voice calm but full of affection.

As Rafe looked down at our newborn daughter, a flicker of admiration sparked in his eyes. His voice, softer than usual, added, “Yeah, she is. And she’s ours.”

“I’m going to name her Margaret. A beautiful name for a beautiful baby,” I said, my heart swelling with love for her.

As Rafe heard the name I chose, he nodded, his expression neutral. But there was something in his voice, a subtle approval. “Margaret, huh? That’s a nice name. Definitely better than some of the other ones you had thrown around earlier.”

“Oh, stop it,” I laughed, rolling my eyes playfully.

Rafe smirked, a hint of teasing in his tone. “Hey, I’m just being honest. Some of those names you suggested were ridiculous.”

“Do you want to hold her?” I asked, wanting him to have a moment with our daughter.

He hesitated for a moment, his usual confident demeanor faltering. “Uh, sure. I guess I can hold her. Just for a minute.” As Rafe held the tiny baby in his arms, his expression softened. The usual boldness melted away, giving him a tender tone. He spoke to her in a sweet voice, his words filled with awe. “Hey there, little one… You’re just a tiny little thing, aren’t you?”

-

Initially, it seemed like things might improve after the baby’s birth, especially when I came home from the hospital. However, over time, Rafe’s behavior changed back to his usual, uncaring demeanor. The brief baby bliss he displayed in the hospital quickly faded.

The phone rang for a few moments before Rafe picked up, his voice slightly irritated as his usual nonchalance seeped through. “What’s up?”

“You promised you’d be here a week ago. Where the hell are you?” I asked, frustration lacing my words.

Rafe sighed, clearly annoyed by the question. His voice remained apathetic as he responded. “I told you, I’ve been busy. I’ve got things to deal with, you know?”

“You have a daughter now. I know you’ve got a wife and two kids back home, but you can’t just abandon us like this,” I said, my voice shaky but firm.

Rafe grumbled, his irritation sharpening his voice. “Abandon? I’m not abandoning anyone. I’m just handling things with my family. I can’t drop everything just because we have a kid now.”

I stayed silent for a moment, processing his words. Does he not think before he speaks? Does he not realize how much his words sting? “Okay, Rafe. Well, make sure you come by... please.”

His tone softened slightly, but his voice remained neutral. “Alright. I’ll swing by in a few days, okay? Don’t keep nagging me about it.”

Six months have passed since Margaret’s birth, and she’s growing cuter and bigger each day. Yet Rafe’s behavior remains unchanged. He continues to act distant, rarely showing any real interest in me or the baby. Rafe is at the apartment again. I thought it would be a calm visit, just the two of us, so he could spend some time with his daughter. But it seems like we can never be around each other without arguing.

“Seriously, can you just relax? You’re being overdramatic about everything,” Rafe says dismissively.

“I’m not being overdramatic! You’re barely here, it’s like we don’t even exist to you,” I snap, unable to hold back the frustration anymore.

Rafe rolls his eyes as he gets up from the floor, where he was playing with Margaret. His voice laced with anger. “Oh please, just because I’m not here 24/7 doesn’t mean you don’t exist to me. I’ve got another family back home. I can’t just ditch them for you.”

“That’s not the point!” I shout, hurt and angry. “At least make an effort to show you actually care. If you don’t want to be with me, that’s fine, but at least try to be in your daughter’s life.”

He groans in frustration, clearly annoyed by my point. “I do show I care, alright? I provide for you, don’t I? And I’ve been over here plenty of times to see her. What more do you want from me?”

“I want you to be a man,” I yell, my voice shaking with anger. “I don’t even know how you can call yourself a father!”

Rafe’s irritation boils over as Margaret starts to cry from the shouting. He shoots me a glare before shouting back in an authoritarian tone, “For Christ’s sake, stop yelling! You’re scaring her!”

“You should blame yourself for this,” I snap, my voice cold. “If it wasn’t for you, this argument wouldn’t have started.”

Rafe’s patience snaps. His frustration morphs into full-blown anger. He steps closer, his voice low and dangerous. “Don’t forget who you’re talking to. I’m the one paying your rent, so you better watch your fucking tone. ”

“Or what?” I challenge him, my heart racing.

His eyes narrow, his voice more menacing. “Or you’ll regret it. I’m warning you, don’t test me, not when I’ve got you living under my dollar.”

Rafe walks past me and storms out of the apartment, and the moment the door slams shut, I let the tears fall down my cheeks. I try to hold back my sobs, attempting to stay strong for Margaret’s sake, but the weight of the argument makes it impossible. The situation has reached a breaking point, and I can’t help but wonder how things have gotten so out of control between us.

[angelbby555]

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ got you coupons

Summary: Bradley forgets it's Valentine's Day and with the kid's help, they craft something up last minute.

Word count: 1k

⋆. ୨୧˚⋆

Bradley just had to accept his own fate. He forgot it was February 14- Valentine's Day. The moment of realization was when he saw his two kids shuffling through their Valentine's Day cards. His heart had fallen right to his ass, and his eyes nearly popped out of his skull.

There was twenty minutes on the clock before you would return home from work. No chance would be able to speed to the closest pharmacy, and buy you flowers and a little gift. With age Bradley was slowly starting to forget things like, what day it was, where he placed his keys, or names of the friends his kids brought over to the house for a play date.

In a couple of minutes there wasn't much Bradley could whip up. He needed a little assistant from his two little kids. Kennedy's idea sounded pretty solid; write his wife a letter on how much he loves and adores her. Meanwhile his 5-year-old son's idea was to give you his toy monster truck.

"Buddy girls don't like monster trucks." Bradley was trying to not chuckle at the thought of handing you one of his sons well loved toys. Lucas lips pulled into a frown once Bradley denied his idea. "Got another idea?" He ruffled his sons hair, kissing his forehead.

The little boy stared up at him with his twining puppy eyes. "Mh you can make her a coupon book?" The kid suggests resting his small head against Bradley's arm. No way was he about to make all his gift out of paper.

"We can do that." Bradley agreed going to grab a sheet of paper to start writing his letter. This would be a very shameful gift to hand to you. Instantly you would know he put it together last minute.

With the kids help, Kennedy made a uneven envelope out of pink construction paper to slip his letter in. Meanwhile Lucas full fisted a pink and red crayon coloring a white piece of paper multi color, for the coupons. His son was about to start making the coupons for him, but Kennedy stopped him.

"Wait daddy you should write the coupons so mommy knows you did them." Kennedy handed him a black sharpie.

"You're smart. I like the way you think Kenny." Bradley high fives his daughter and then his son and he started to write the coupons down. But it was a bit hard to write coupons when he would give you anything for free.

That why Bradley didn't take these coupons too seriously. Writing down stuff like, one free ride with a dirty smirk on his face.

One free candle lit dinner.

Gift for one free bend you over the kitchen counter.

Good for one morning sex.

Gift for 2 pairs of sexy lingerie.

Love coupon for a free nude.

Before he knew it he was having fun filling out the rest of the uneven cut paper coupons with an erection and a smirk on his face.

"What did you write?" Lucas beamed up at his father, while opening a heart shaped sucker.

"Oh you know the usual." Bradley answer, not wishing to let any of these dirty coupons fall into the wrong hands.

⊹☆~⟡⋆

You and Bradley stood in the living room, while the kids were outside playing with the sprinklers.

"Okay it's not much-" Bradley started off only to be cut off by your wonderful giggles.

"You forgot didn't you?" Your bottom lip was pulled between your teeth to keep yourself from laughing. A playful glitter shined in your eyes. Bradley knew you were a forgiving and easy going person so you wouldn't pin this too hard above his head.

"Yeah." He let out a deflated laugh rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. Bradley felt so shitty, but kept telling himself he would pick up something nicer tomorrow. "But what I crafted was made with a lot of love and did it with my whole heart." He nodded confidently knowing that much was true

"It's okay. As long as you made it out of love Daddy." You giggled through your bitten bottom lip. Oh gosh how was he gifted with such a sweet wife?

Bradley pulled out the uneven pink envelope out of his pocket. It was decorated with stickers that were used for a stamp, and multiple pieces of tape to keep it closed. He could see the way your teeth sunk into your lip you were holding back a giggle.

"Don't disrespect my craft." Bradley pointed at you with a scolding finger, but was laughing himself. He pressed a kiss to your temple as, you pulled the folder piece of paper out the envelope.

In silence he watched your eyes scan over the page. Even seeing your gaze softened at some of the words you read. He was gonna have to take Kennedy out for ice cream for such a life saving and simple idea. You read the last part of the paper out loud.

"I will be here for you, forever and always. Sincerely Yours, Bradley Bradshaw." Your smile reached your eyes, staring at the letter for a beat or two before looking up at him. "I love it!" You announced throwing your arms around his neck. "I'm gonna get it framed." Your lips brushed up against his face multiple times, as he kept you engulfed in his embrace. And here he thought the holiday was about consumerism and marketing.

"Wait I got something else for you." Bradley pulled back, digging his hand into your back pocket.

"It keeps getting better doesn't it?" He couldn't tell if your tone was sarcastic or genuine but you were still enjoying yourself. Bradley pulled out the bundle of square papers out of his pocket and handed them to you.

You gazed at the blank side, cover in harsh permanent marker dots that bled through the thin page. "Wow Brad you really shouldn't have." You did no attempt to cover up you laugh this time at the sore sight. Bradley kissed your forehead and flipped the paper over for you. "Ahhhh!" You sang out realizing that the paper wasn't just sharpie dots.

Bradley watched your face as you went through each one of the papers. A smirk over taking your lips, leaning closer to him reading the dirty words. You even moaned when you read 'one free daddy takes care of it'

You hummed savoring the coupons like they were the best deals to be known to man kind. "Oh I see okay. So I have to pay up now for affection? Cruel world." You rested your elbows on his shoulders.

"Well that's why you got the coupons baby." Bradley replied being the one to laugh now. He leaned in pressing a sweet kiss to you lips. "Do you like them?"

"Love them." You grinned looking at the coupons over his shoulder. "I think I might cash them out right now."

"Yeah?" Bradley asked amused not even thinking you were gonna spare them a second glance.

"Yeah, starting with, bathroom sex then candlelit dinner then bend me over the kitchen counter then..." How did he get so lucky?

A little late on the valentines day celebration but thought of this yesterday :) Read the 3 gas station teddy bears blurb if your still in a lovey dovey mood!

[myfriendpokey]

Talking About Some Horror Comics

(Image: Richard Sala, "The Bloody Cardinal")

On Cohost a while back i wrote a little bit about comicbook inspirations for Anthology Of The Killer - I might repost it when that site goes down at the end of the year, but until then you can read it here: https://cohost.org/thecatamites/post/7154072-i-wanted-to-write-so

For part two I wanted to talk more about horror comics in particular.

I probably wouldn't have gotten into horror at all if it weren't for comics. Horror comics can feel like a "cold" take on a very "warm" genre - indebted to and playing off of a familiar ground of horror films, but without film's tendency towards emotionalism or immediate effects... Working on a far more compressed scale than even the cheapest 80-minute b-movie, amplifying abruptness or abstraction into something dreamlike and strange. And with the great advantage of taking place inside a totally constructed world. It's not strictly a horror comic but something like Jess Johnson's "Nurture The Devil" is unsettling in part because it's hard to place in relation to either a real world or the world of dreams - whether it's a stylised version of some more familiar content or whether the stylisation is a literal depiction of what's happening.

A comic as physical object can also be a relic - not something we experience in one go, rather something to pick up, put down, sift through, read and reread, with new meanings emerging from a mass of material of which the supposed narrative may not be the most important part. The dreadful, knife-wielding maniacs from Al Columbia's Pim & Francie are familiar figures, but seeing their obsessive repetition across the different collected scraps of abandoned or submerged narratives changes them into dream symbols rather than direct threats.

I like a lot of comics that draw on horror imagery - Mark Beyer and Rory Hayes, A. Degen's "Junior Detective Files" and Daria Tessler's "Cult Of The Ibis", Nicole Claveloux and Imiri Sakabashira. But I wanted to try writing here about some comics that made me interested as horror in a genre itself.

Junji Ito: you may not have heard about this guy.... I actually hadn't read any of his work before the Viz edition of Uzumaki a while back, and the sense of being late to the party didn't make it feel less of a revelation. I think part of it was the sense of comics that were totally distinct while at the same time feeling like they were working entirely IN a genre tradition rather than against it; there was a sense of almost impersonal originality in their laconic and assured pacing, the clarity of line and their lack of need to give too much away, which suggested they must be drawing from and distilling a whole surrounding tradition. And this impression persists even when you follow up on other horror manga and the stated influences and find these comics still feel mysterious even in that context. One of his best effects is a willingness to seem more anonymous than he is, or to give the impression even in his most original effects that he's just flatly transcribing a readymade idea or image. And I think this is his biggest influence on internet-era horror, which has tended to disguise itself (even more than is typical for horror) in anonymous and generic forms, a surface impersonality: as if everyone aleady knew about this, except you.

But what I do feel gets underplayed about his work in particular is also how funny it is, and how indebted to comedy timing. Compare the monstrous reveal in an Ito story with one by Umezu (RIP) - in the latter the frame is pushed right in on someone's face, eyes bulging, screaming, the image repeats, gets even closer, we're in that portion of a nightmare where we feel immobilized by horror, stuck in a pit that we can never escape. The same moment in an ito story tends to be one of ironic equipoise - when the horrible thing finally appears it's depicted clearly, powerfully, it's almost this beautiful and static image. The onlookers stand frozen at the edges of the frame, mid movement, eyes wide but expression not yet changed, a single drop of cartoon sweat on the edge of their heads. There's a contrast between the assurance of the thing and the hapless rabbitlike fascination of the character regarding it, who becomes, like us, an aesthetic spectator - for a moment. When the spell breaks, when we see them screaming, running, it's comic because something of that mood of still contemplation that remains intact. Their eyes bulge, their mouths scream, but they're rushing backwards, away from the panel, and we regard their fear with the same attitude of detached interest with which we saw the full outline of the monstrous shape a panel earlier. To me this sense of humour is apiece with the disconcerting flatness of his approach to setting, in which the usual horror sets - gothic, extraordinary places outside the everyday - feel replaced by something anonymous and shabby, a kind of just-expired contemporary. The monsters rarely need to be explained; it's as though our own world has gradually become too worn down to have any purchase or power on these creatures of dreams that walk the landscapes and alleys with impunity.

Richard Sala - sometimes the artists I end up most fascinated by are ones I spend a while bouncing off of first. I read a few Richard Sala stories over the years and for a while I didn't know what to make of them. Great art, stylised and weird, but as narratives they were hard to place - too stylised and exaggerated to feel like straight horror but too obviously serious about and committed to those genre elements to feel like mere parody or pastice. I think I needed to read Uzumaki before I could get what he was doing, because it relies so much on a sense that genre horror was worth taking seriously; seriously enough to treat neither as a punchline or a heritage piece, something you could bring your own offbeat sensibilities and aesthetic to without condescending to the form, because there was something there. In some great interviews he did with the Comics Journal he was explicit about what he valued in the form: the dreamlike and symbolic qualities of b-movies, the ritual and fetishistic nature of repetition, the way pulp artists in an overlooked form could evolve a private vocabulary of forms, structures and images which worked like surrealist procedures to be mined and combined for new discoveries over time.

He was also interesting to me for the way his work changed over time. The shorter early pieces collected in comics like "Thirteen O'Clock" are recognizably art comics using a vocabulary of found horror images: the secret society, the leering face behind a window, are representative symbols of states of mind rather than presences in themselves. But his first longform serial "The Chuckling Whatsit" inverts this. Here the horror elements are given full play - it's a crazed pile up of characters, murder plots, conspiracies, odd locations, dreams, gimmicks, knives and masks, and while none of these feel like straightforward symbols of authorial expression there's obviously still something being worked out underneath that surface narrative, something warping all the pieces into new directions. The scene and the plot seem to abruptly change direction with every page; new characters are introduced and killed off again, constantly; the longest explanation of the plot we get is delivered by a lady with a cartoony moose-end-sqvirrel phonetic accent, but somehow it never loses either a sense of mysterious inner coherence or a sense of dread.

For me his middle period is from "Reflections Of A Glass Scorpion" (reprinted as "Mad Night") to "The Hidden". His art improves and he plays more with colour; the narratives slow down and there's more of a willingness to let them breathe. Characters become more important - my favourite is Judy Drood, the crazed Nancy Drew analogue crashing through a world of horror. Some of the books in this period feel less essential, as though having established what a "Richard Sala" comic would look like he was happy to spend a while doing the Richard Sala version of a vampire story, or an evil clown story, or a YA book. But he kept developing his style and "Delphine", towards the end of this period, is maybe his best single book: spare and serious and strange, as if he had reached a point in his craft where he no longer even needed to resemble himself.

But strangest of all is his late work, which maybe comes closest than most comics careers to the famous "late style" identified by Adorno in his essay. After increasingly subtle and quiet, almost slick, works, there's suddenly a return to the garish - rather than horror the model seems to be sleazy eurospy b-movies, the kind where masked girls in leotards run around machinegunning each other in underground bases. I don't think the biggest Richard Sala fan would think of him as primarily an action cartoonist but that's what we get here - panel after panel of firing handguns wildly into a crowd ("the simplest surrealist act" - andre breton) of milling henchmen, unkillable figures of vengeance running wild. And at the same time, just as startling, there's an abrupt and explicit emphasis on politics - the figures being shot are crowds of ghoulish Bush-era congressmen, executives, cops, sneering militia creeps, guffawing yuppies, movers and shakers. There's a sense of deliriously vindictive wish fulfilment that he's obviously having fun with, and what's not to love about a comic where a masked supervillain named Super-Enigmatix (shortened by the text as "S.Ex") breaks into the chambers of the Supreme Court to shoot the judges with a raygun known only as "the dissolver" in a single panel. But there's also a kind of sadness in the fury with which these characters are obsessively killed and re-killed; the flat, declarative way the political content declares itself has a kind of contempt, as if it weren't worth dressing up any other way. Rather than the politics of horror we have politics as horror, horror as the only form with which politics can adequately be represented.

Sala's last published work was "Poison Flowers & Pandemonium" - a collection of four(!) volumes unpublished at the time of his death, one of which is a collection of cavegirl-themed cheesecake art a character in the book itself winningly describes as "the dumbest thing i've ever read". The first book, a sequel to the late period work "The Bloody Cardinal", is one of his best - tensely paced and cohesive despite swerving crazily across genres, characters and settings (and also involving an evil mummy who exists in two dimensions). But the very last book, Fantomella, haunts me the most. It takes place in a world where the murderers have won - a vaguely futuristic tower in which dumb, bullying assholes, in costumes that are unsettling combinations of paramilitary gear, medieval torturer outfits and old-timey superhero costumes, spend their days in inscrutable violence or tangled, careerist infighting. The heroine, the title character, climbs up the tower level by level and kills absolutely everyone who gets in her way. The guys in the tower bicker and betray each other and bark orders over walkie talkies and then die and die and die; it's as though, having spent the last decade establishing a whole imaginative taxonomy of These Types Of Guy, there were no need for them anymore; they could be erased, one by one, in the perfunctory way of a henchman being offed in the final five minutes of a cheap film. Eventually Fantomella gets to the top of the tower; there's an ending reminiscent of stated lifetime influence Franz Kafka. Did I mention that this book is placed right after the sexy cavegirl story? Art can be powerful, when we let it be.

Mike Mignola, Guy Davis, John Arcudi - yeah, from B.P.R.D. These are spinoffs from Mignola's own Hellboy comics, and as will be the case with spinoffs I think they never quite got the respect of those other books. They're less quiet, less offbeat - they lack the quality in Hellboy of a mysterious folktale logic that we're barely able to glimpse. But that's the thing for me - in Hellboy many characters have some kind of knowledge that they act on, often piecemeal or imperfectly. What makes B.P.R.D. distinct is the sense that nobody knows what's happening at all; not the heroes, not the villains. Stuff just happens and happens and happens and maybe later on some of it is concluded in ways nobody notices because they're dealing with some other shit - the bits of narrative closure we get are as abrupt and unwilled as a long-forgotten gun that suddenly goes off. Maybe someone will accidentally glimpse the resolution of some other thing they had no idea was happening, in the shape of e.g. a nazi millionaire in a homemade skeleton outfit being pulled screaming beneath the earth by a plague of human frogs. Who was that? There's no time to worry about it, because the world is ending.

There's a lot of these comics and I can never keep track of what order they're in, but I want to suggest that one of the deep pleasures of longform serial narrative is reading it out of order and trying to figure out what's going on. You'll see someone pop up for a panel or die or do something of unexplained importance to the rest of the book and then keep going and maybe read an earlier one where you glimpse the setup that you saw finally paying off - if you can still remember. It's maybe an odd one for me to recommend, as someone who aggressively does not care about apocalypse shit, or military shit, or lovecraft shit. But in addition to the fun characters and offbeat storytelling and Guy Davis's typically great art I think what made this stick with me so much was an odd formal parallel, between the slow, shambolic, weirdly believable end of the world it depicts and the nature of serial storytelling itself. Details pile up, beyond our ability to keep track or notice them. The doomed task of remembering, of cultivating the little pile of our perceptions as they spill out and roll away, feels horribly similar to the efforts of the characters to hold a catastrophe in place; a catastrophe that no-one really seems to know the start or meaning of but that we're all stuck living out regardless.

It's a longrunning comic so there are lots of issues. You can try following it from the start and still find after a certain point that you no longer have any idea of what's happening, that "the start" is itself not really the start, just the latest in a series of dubiously reliable origin stories that seem to have no lower bound. You can spend a lot of time on wikis trying to combine the pieces and figure it out, just like the characters in the comic, the ones who inevitably end up going "AIIIEEE!" as they're blown up by a big machine or by some cosmic thingamabob they only realise too late they maybe never really got. Or maybe if you're lucky you can be a bit-part character; here in some pages, missing in others, with fate uncertain, deferred by an error in issue numbering, or a failure of memory.

[kimakento]

you’re here

synopsis: your boyfriend has always been clingy when jealous, and you were never one to be against it if being honest. ⌙ 1.8k

pairing: wang yixiang x interviewer!fem!reader

genre: fluff

warnings: mentions of a scandal/rude fans, jealousy

tags: established (but secret) relationship, flirty!nicholas, a couple just doing lovey dovey things, reader usually interviews many famous groups

a/n: oh how no one will ever know how much i giggled while writing this…. jokes aside, &team fluff fic debut on kimakento, we all cheered!!!!!

never in your life would you have thought that you’d be asked to interview &team by your boss. though, when analysing the task at hand, there were some serious ups and downs.

a pro would be that you would get to see and talk one of your favourite groups, but the con was that being in a secret relationship with a member of said group meant that you couldn’t necessarily be too friendly or overbearing.

after receiving the news, you quickly shot nicholas a few texts, to which he responded eagerly to before calling you. answering the phone, you put the device to your ear; just barely missing the low chuckle that emitted from your speaker.

“so, you’re finally interviewing us?” there was a knowing tone to his voice. “i was wondering when my interviewer girlfriend would finally do it.”

“baby, this isn’t good. what if people find out about us?” you huffed in clear frustration.

“some fans are ruthless, i’d be out of work before i know it! and you’d also be caught in a scandal.“

“it’d be fine. i make enough to provide for the both of us.” the man took a short pause, anticipating your reaction.

“wang yixiang.” you snapped, cupping the speaker and moving to a secluded corner of your workplace.

he cleared his throat. “i was kidding… sorry! no one will find out, i’m sure. don’t worry yourself over it, they’ll love you. they’ll love us.”

“thank you. i think i feel a bit better now,” you rested the back of your head on the wall behind you. “i gotta go, ba—“ loud footsteps boomed not far from you as you blurted out a parting. “bye, dad!”

“dad? huh, wha—“ you heard your boyfriend question before fumbling to hang up.

breathing out a sigh of relief, you jolted off the wall hearing your name being called. a team manager walked towards you before speaking curtly.

“you’re being called into the office. boss wants to brief you on the interview with that japanese group or whatever.” his voice sounded disinterested and rude. internally, you judged the man before nodding and making your way to the office.

when there you were ran through all the formalities; how you would address the members and such, and the questions to be asked. you were told that it would be in a week. and the stress of the expectations already started to catch up whilst in the meeting. your boss was adamant on everything being prim and perfect; stressing that there was absolutely no room for any mistakes. big or small. this only added to the pressure that you felt.

in the coming days before the interview, you had practiced the hell out of your script. your boss had given you the creative liberty of constructing your very own questions — as long as they were appropriate and relevant to the theme, of course — to ask the four eldest members attending.

but what made everything better was that nicholas had been coming over to watch you practice and also willingly became the victim of your endless questions. you’d sit there opposite him, hours on end, running through the paper in your hands.

with his help, you started to feel slightly more collected about the nearing event.

even though you had met the &team members before, you weren’t really acquainted with them as much as you would like which only added to your discomfort. you hoped that they would take nicely to you and enjoy the session to the fullest.

you were certain you’d evolved into a robot by the way the script had been in your face all day. and it only got worse. the night before, while doing your skin routine, you found yourself again repeating the words over and over. almost mantra-like. in your head, you imagined physically sitting there opposite the group and indulging in light conversation.

nicholas had even told you he believed you’d start asking those question even in your sleep, at this rate — to which you laughed at and then dismissed. you flopped onto your bed, tucking yourself in and the nerves seemed to fade the more you slipped deep into slumber.

in the morning, waking up felt as if a ton of bricks had hit you. still, you got up, showered after brushing your teeth and then scarfed down your breakfast. as you buttoned up your blouse, you stared into the mirror and began practicing your lines again.

your workplace was even worse. when you arrived, it was total chaos, your colleagues had been rushing all around, fixing the set, or briefing each other and setting roles. immediately, you were brought in for your makeup. the stylists all surrounded you, touching everything up; making sure you looked stunning.

whilst you watched yourself in the mirror, your phone buzzed.

a text from nicholas.

baby :D!

good luck, pretty!!!!! you’re going to be amazing, i know. make sure to pay extra attention to me too ;)

quickly after reading the message, a small smile adorned your face as you chuckled softly. he was always so thoughtful. in the midst of replying, the door flew open, revealing your boss. you turned over your phone before greeting him swiftly.

“you’re up in ten minutes,” he raised his hands, “give it your all!“

determination swelled in your chest as you nodded excitedly. the colour had returned to your cheeks, and you’d become much more relaxed.

the interview room was your forte, it was where you’d always excel. you were sat in front of the four eldest &team members with cue cards nestled comfortably on your lap. before the cameras started rolling, you exchanged light conversations with them, ensuring that you never interacted with nicholas too much.

once you were notified about the start of the interview, the room went silent as yudai, euijoo, fuma and nicholas went ahead to greet the cameras.

“one, two! we link! hello, we’re &team!“ they began in unison, bowing at the camera.

one by one, the four members had all finished their self introductions.

peering down at your first card, you spoke. “today, we are with some of the renowned members of &team! we will be asking them a few questions.” you continued on, oblivious to the fact that nicholas had been watching you lovingly.

your gaze scanned the room, accidentally landing on your boyfriend and locking eyes with him. frantically, you moved your attention to fuma.

you cleared your throat. “our first question is for fuma,” as he nodded, you smiled. “is it hard being a sub-leader? we know that you’re often dubbed as the ‘responsible one’, so how is it taking care of everyone, along with euijoo?”

“i do believe it is hard. most of us are very mischievous as you can tell, but we all make it work. though, sometimes i’m never given a break, especially by the younger members.” that part caused you to giggle before humming approvingly. “there are times where i just stop to think, ‘what have i gotten myself into?’ many times. for euijoo, it’s even more difficult.”

satisfied with his answer, you looked over to the leader as he nodded along.

the rest of the interview ran smoothly, with you asking each of them questions. though, you kept interactions with a certain red-haired man brief and short, focusing on the other members. no words could express how much you desired to feel the warmth of your boyfriend. you missed him so much despite being in the same room.

the fear of making a mistake made you unable to act on those feelings.

shortly after the interview, you shot a text to nicholas, informing him you were about to return to your apartment before leaving your work building and driving home. lazily turning the key in the lock, you rushed in and flopped face-first right onto the couch dramatically. fatigue washed over your whole body as lay there mindlessly.

moments later, you decided to wash up and change out of your work clothes. freshly out the shower and in your pyjamas, you padded your way softly to the kitchen. that was until you heard a light knock.

peering through the peephole, nicholas stood outside with glasses and a black cap on his head. he looked straight out of a cartoon, which made you fight the urge to guffaw at his choice of accessories. a while after letting him in, your boyfriend had made himself at home on the sofa while you stood at the kitchen counter.

“want some ramen?” you asked him.

“sure.”

humming softly, you got to work bringing two ramen packs from the drawer and opening them. but two arms snaking around your waist and a chin nestled right on your shoulder hindered you from finishing. and if that wasn’t enough to drive you crazy, your boyfriend even called your name softly.

“yeah?” by the tone of his voice, you could tell it was something serious.

“do you like fuma?”

“what on earth?”

the warmth of his figure slowly dissipated as his arms retracted from yours. “you can tell the truth, i won’t be mad.”

“baby...” turning around, his body caged you against the counter as you brought his hands to rest on your hips once again. “what makes you think that?” his touch on you just felt right. like you both were jigsaw puzzle pieces meant for each other.

“‘cause you were focusing on him during the whole interview. like i wasn’t there. like i wasn’t ever yours.” the adorable pout on his face only urged you to tuck a strand of hair out his eyes before your hands found their way to the base of his neck as you held your gaze on him.

nicholas’s face looked so... perfect.

just like him.

“that’s just my job, nicho. wanna know the real reason i actually didn’t pay attention to you that much?” you paused until he nodded eagerly in response. “it’s just that every single time i look at you, i get so nervous. my heart beats so fast and i was afraid that i would stutter or slip up,” the grin that slowly turned at his lips only grew at your every breath. “that’s why.“

“yeah? you’re nervous whenever you look at me?” there was a light and teasing side to his tone. of course that was what he would take from it, you mentally facepalmed.

“mhm.” you sighed at his relentless flirty remarks.

“okay, so if you had to choose. would you pick me or fuma?”

“if you keep this up, i might really end up choosing him, nicholas.” armed with slight irritation, you tilted your head to the side, breaking eye contact with the red haired, which prompted him to lean down and press a light kiss to your cheek.

“c’mon, baby,” it was almost as if you could hear the small pout that adorned his lips. “look at me. please.”

but when your name left his lips so sweetly, it felt like you could melt at that spot. fingers lightly gripped your jaw, making you face him once again, flustered at his previous actions.

“that’s my girl.” his hands moved up to cup your warm cheeks.

“you’re cute when you’re jealous.” you remarked in retaliation, even surprising your own self at the boldness of your words.

“come on, i wasn’t jealous.”

“you sure was. don’t try to lie out of this.”

the man sighed heavily, “fine. i was. happy?”

“definitely!” your cheery tone only prompted him to grumble in response to your teasing.

reblogs are appreciated!!

[effietrinket1619]

Fully expected Io and Soranik to arrest Batman for punching Guy lol.

yknow, i didn't have them arrest batman in the first place because i didn't think it was even in their jurisdiction. but like, the more i thought about it, the funnier it became, so...

Soranik blinked at the man. His casual swagger, silent pride with which he held himself. He was unrepentant, totally at ease with what he just admitted to her and Io. He looked them as if he expected them to laugh, to joke alongside him about the very real and lasting consequences his actions have had.

She saw red.

Io reached out, a gentle touch to her forearm before Soranik could open her mouth in her blinding fury, her own voice quietly and expertly restrained from years of diplomacy. "You assaulted Lantern Gardner," she clarified. "You admit that?"

Wayne huffed slightly, a grumble like an affirmative thrumming through the air. Not enough because Soranik knew what Io was trying to do. "What gave you grounds to do that?" she asked, holding her anger tight in her chest. "Was he acting out? Being difficult? Did you believe you needed to, what, put him in his place?"

Kyle made a little despairing noise at the back of his throat. Gardner remained completely silent which set off every alarm bell in Soranik's head.

With an imperious air, Wayne looked down on the both of them. Soranik bit her lip so she wouldn't say anything right off the bat. "You work with him. You understand how he can be."

"Of course I do," she said with a sharp smile. "He's a good Lantern to cover your back. Just help me understand what your thought process was for knocking him out."

"To shut him up."

Soranik and Iolande exchanged a glance. Io's eyes danced in mirth which only had the corners of her own lips twitching upwards. Humans and their arrogance. Wayne resembled a particularly awful version of Jordan. And Jordan was hardly perfect himself but at least he didn't go out of his way to brag about exacerbating brain damage.

Io spoke while Soranik's ring flashed, construct chains and manacles clapping over Wayne's wrists, ankles and even his waist before anyone could speak. "Bruce Wayne, you have been hereby charged with assault of a member of the Green Lantern Honour Guard. You will be taken back to Oa for formal questioning and trial. Please," she continued when Wayne's mouth opened, shock and outrage plain on his face, "keep your mouth closed. It would serve you best to not dig yourself deeper into this hole."

His jaw clicked shut and he looked over at Kyle, eyes wild and furious. "Rayner." He said Kyle's name as if it was an order. Soranik did not care for that at all.

Kyle looked between Soranik and Wayne before he threw up his hands, a sheepish half-smile on his face. "They've got a point. You really shouldn't have bragged about that to actual Green Lanterns. We're very serious about protecting our own, right Guy?"

Guy had seemed to go blank, eyes wide and unblinking as he took in the sight before him. It took Kyle nudging him gently for him to snap back into his body. "Huh? Uh, yeah, sure. We, uh, we really arrestin' Brucie?"

"Of course," Soranik said tartly. "Kyle, if you would lead the way? I'm sure your human friends need to hear of this development."

"I have children," Wayne growled as Soranik began to pull him along, uncaring of his struggles and reluctance. "I can't go to trial."

"Find a babysitter," she said airily.

When they arrived at a wide room with a colourful assortment of various people from different species entirely, they stopped. Everyone stared. The humiliation might do this man good, honestly. There was no need for this, after all.

"Uh," started the man in blue and red. "Kyle? What--what is all this?"

Io stepped forward gracefully, commanding the room with a glance. "Greetings. I am Queen Iolande of Betrassus and this is my partner, Soranik Natu of Korugar. I expect you are all very confused by this turn of events and my partner and I were too. But we are here to arrest this man for assaulting a Green Lantern officer. We will be returning to Oa with him shortly."

A man in blue and black blinked, absolutely stunned. "B. Did you--did you punch a queen?"

Io tilted her head, smiling beatifically. "No. This was a previous assault on Lantern Gardner and we have warranted it serious enough for further investigation."

"You can't take him!" A child, really, all gangly limbs and greasy black hair, stepped up while tapping a long pole on the ground nervously. "Hey, c'mon, this has to be some kind of misunderstanding. You can't take Batman."

Soranik grinned, all teeth. "And who are you, exactly, to question my judgement?"

He spluttered for a second before stepping forward with a vaguely menacing energy. Kyle threw up a glimmering construct wall before he could get too closer. "No, Red Robin," he said sharply. "You attack the Queen of Betrassus and you start a war with those people. You get me? He probably won't be gone long. Promise."

"Indeed," Io said dryly, a twist of humour on her lips. "With any luck, I may be able to talk the Guardians down from an outright death sentence."

"What?"

"Okay!" Gardner finally exclaimed, smiling faintly. "No one's dyin'! He ain't even do that much to warrant a prison sentence, yeah? Jus' sit tight for now, 'cos I dunno how far Red wants to stretch this."

"And like," Kyle rambled, "can I be so real with you guys right now?" He pointed behind him, directly at Wayne who had gone a lovely shade of pink. "He definitely needs this. Something to knock him down a couple of pegs. It's been a long time coming and I'm glad it's happening now like this."

The man in blue and red looked visibly pained. "Guy. Fix this."

"I can't, Supes." Gardner crossed his arms, shooting a fond look over at Soranik. "My hands are tied. We'll see ya in a couple weeks."

"Weeks?"

----

"...and I was telling Isamot to just, like, cool it for five seconds because Arisia looked like she was this close to testing how far the lethality on her ring went, right?"

John nodded along, not really listening to whatever Hal was saying. Clearly, he needed an out and John was happy to be that person for him. Kyle stopped by about five minutes ago to ask them to check the holding cells quickly because Soranik and Iolande apparently brought in someone moderately high-profile and that was enough to warrant inspecting.

John just really hoped no one had caused a diplomatic incident. Kyle looked the most nervous he had ever been when he spoke to John. That definitely did not bode well.

"Hey, who d'you think Soranik brought in?" Hal asked as they neared the cells. "I hope it's Sinestro."

"I don't," John bit back tiredly. "Could you imagine how much of a nightmare he'd be?"

Hal grinned. "Nah. I'm his nightmare. If anything, I think it'd be--be..."

Whatever Hal was going to say petered off into nothing. John was right by with him as his own thoughts stuttered to a stop.

"Stewart. Jordan," Bruce said from within, chin tilted up to retain as much dignity as he could inside an Oan holding cell.

"What," John muttered, "the hell, Soranik?"

"I was hoping you two could assist me," Bruce went on, standing. John took a swift step back. "I need to get back to Earth."

John inhaled. Exhaled. And then, "No."

Bruce blinked. "No?"

"No," he repeated calmly. "Nope. You said something stupid, didn't you? To Soranik and Iolande? Yeah, I warned Kyle about taking a pitstop on Earth but he insisted. Said he needed Guy."

"It is about Gardner I wanted--"

"No!" John turned away completely. "No, I don't wanna know about whatever stupid gripe you have with Guy this time. I'm sick of it, Bruce. I don't care. You're Kyle's problem now. No, better yet, you're Soranik's problem. Don't ask about her dad. Let's go, Hal. Hal?"

John turned to Hal, who had not yet said anything, and found him staring open mouthed at Bruce, completely frozen. John snapped his fingers in front of Hal's face and sighed when there was no reaction. "You broke him," he said flatly. "You broke Hal. Good going, Bruce."

"I didn't--"

"Not my circus, not my monkeys!" John shouted at him, grabbing Hal by the arm and dragging him off towards the direction of Warriors. Hal went unresisting, head still angled towards Bruce, mouth hanging open.

"Stewart!" Bruce howled, sounding completely enraged by this point. "Come back here!"

John kept his trap shut, maneuvering Hal out of the way of stunned onlookers. He was gonna have Guy pour him the strongest goddamn drink he had. And then, he was gonna grab Kyle and shake him for letting this happen.