#so people get used to not thinking about storage & where things come from or where they go

[eclairemaire]

the sound of music pt.3

playlist | part 1 part 2

Pairing: Lewis Pullman x Reader Category: Fluff Summary: Stranded in a 24-hour diner in the middle of nowhere, you make an unlikely companion as you bond over the sound of music. Word Count: 2.7K Warnings: Swearing, fast-burn??? (idk), No mention of Y/N, Nicknames & petnames, mechanic-ish reader, musician reader (Lemme know if I missed any) Notes: This is part 3 of this series. I hope everyone enjoys. Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction; all characters are just that, characters, and have no ties to their real-life counterparts.

Lewis puts his phone onto the dash as you plop into the passenger seat, you sigh and throw yours up there as well. He watches as you rest your elbows on your knees and stare at the floorboard for a minute. 

“Ok,” you say after a moment.

“Ok?” he asks in response.

“Yeah, Ok.” You look at him for the first time since you got into the car. “I will move in with you.” Lewis looks like he’s about to start talking, but you hold up a finger to stop him.

“But there are some conditions.” Your tone brooks no argument from him, so he nods and waits for you to continue. 

“First,” you hold up a finger. “I will NOT mooch off your wealth or take any freebies. Therefore, I will not just live with you; I will be paying rent, and you can decide how much that is later. But this is non-negotiable.” Lewis nods, but doesn’t look like he quite agrees with it.

“Second,” you raise a second finger. “You need to be aware that I am not very fond of people, so if you have a ton of people over or something to that effect, give me like a 30-minute warning so I can prepare myself.”

“I understand that.”

“Third,” you raise a third finger. “I know your family is very private about your lives, I ask that you extend that courtesy to me. I have no interest in being a public figure, I don’t want fame, I don’t want your money. I just want to be me, and if that includes being your friend or whatever, great. I respect your boundaries and you respect mine.” Lewis hums low in his throat and nods agreement.

“I think I can do those things, but I want to add something.” He says, “You continue to treat me just like anybody else. Not an Actor or an important Musician, just me, Lewis.” 

“I think you’ve got yourself a deal.” You put out your hand for him to shake, and he does. After that, he starts the truck, and y’all continue on your journey to Lewis’s home.

It’s a week after your initial move-in that you have a slight conundrum, it’s around mid-afternoon, and Lewis was just finishing up a call when you messaged him.

‘Hey, we need to talk when you get the chance.’  He read your message and let you know that he was free now for the rest of the afternoon.

Knocking on his office door, you wait for him to respond, “Come in.” He turns and smiles at you as you open the door and lean on the door frame. “What’s up?” 

“We need to figure out how to get my stuff from my storage unit.” You say.

“Okay, well, where’s your storage unit?” He asks.

“It’s a U-Haul unit in Oklahoma. Got all my shit in there, my piano, my violin and my car to name a few things.” You say as you walk further into his office. 

“I didn’t know you knew how to play violin,” he mused as you stopped in front of him in his desk chair.

“Believe it or not, there are quite a few things you don’t know about me.” You reply.

“Well, we could use a moving service, have them go to your unit, get your stuff, and haul it out here.” He said, as he turned to look one up on his computer. 

“Yeah, that’s where the issue comes up, I don’t think anybody we sent would know how to drive my car…” You trail off at the end of your sentence, and Lewis turns back around to look at you.

“Why wouldn’t someone know how to drive your car?” His gaze was curious as he eyed where you stood, fiddling with your fingers.

“Uhh… becauseitsavintagejapaneseimportedcar.” You said it so fast that he missed the majority of what you said.

“Care to repeat that slower?” He requested.

“Because it’s a vintage Japanese import car.” You repeated, slower, ducking your head down in slight embarrassment.

“You have a vintage import car?” He didn’t seem to believe you.

“Yeah, remember I said I’d been driving since I could sit in a go-kart. That later translated into working on and owning vintage cars. How do you think I made enough money to hitchhike for three months by myself?” You ask, putting your hands on your hips as you stared him down in his seat. He raised his hands in surrender before responding.

“Ok, so what do you suggest doing if we can't do the moving service?”

“I’ll probably call my dad to be honest, get our enclosed trailer, and meet up with him at the storage unit and drive back here with my shit. Then I can ‘officially’ move in.” You state matter-of-factly.

“Sounds like a plan, what do you need from me?” He asked, not seeing where he came into play in this situation.

“I need you to drop me off at the airport in a few days, and not be here when we get there. I know it’s your place and all, but my dad’s really overprotective, and I really don’t want him scaring you off, because then I’ll have to find a new place to live.” You state with a deadpan expression on your face.

“I uh yeah, when do you think you’ll be back?” He asked after checking his calendar for the next week or so.

“I’ll fly out in two days, it’ll be a little over 22 22-hour drive, so maybe two days after that, I can text you when we’re five hours away.” You say as you look at your phone, and then over to him. He nods, and then his phone rings, and you take that as your cue to exit his office and leave him be.

Four days later your unloading all your shit from your dad’s trailer and taking it into the house and putting the various boxes in their designated places, kitchen things in the kitchen, your toiletries in your bathroom, your tool box in the garage, and all your other possessions is going into your room the only thing you don’t know what to do with is your piano. 

So you call Lewis. He picks up after the second ring. “Hey Lew,” you say as you look around the living room.

“Hey, what’s up? How’s unloading going?” he asks.

“Good, only one thing left.” You answer.

“Oh, that’s good, what is it?”

“You wouldn’t be opposed to having a piano in the living room, right?” Your voice is soft as you ask.

“Why don’t you just put it in the studio?” He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Um, because the studio is full of the bands equipment, I wouldn’t want to fuck anything up.” Was your answer.

“You wouldn’t fuck anything up.” He laughed, but you weren’t joking. If you somehow broke any of that equipment, you wouldn’t be able to face him ever again.

“Yeah, I don’t know about that, you’ve seen what a clutz I am sometimes,” you mutter.

“Here, how about this, you and your dad can leave it in the living room for now and when I get back, we'll move it to the studio?”

“Ok.”

“Great, see you later, Sweetheart.”

“Bye, Lew.” You sigh as you hang up the phone and shove it into your pocket, before going to the kitchen, where your dad is sitting at the table on his phone.

“We can put it in the living room, but we need to leave it on the furniture dollies.” You state as he looks up from his phone. “I’ll mail them back home to y’all, lord knows no one else is moving anytime soon.”

“When do I get to meet your new roommate?” He asks as he gets up, and y’all both go to get the piano from outside. 

“You likely won’t, they’re busy, and won’t be back for a day or two.” You say as you begin to push the piano into the house and towards the living room. Your dad doesn’t have a response to that, and you both carry on. He leaves an hour later after making sure you had everything, and goes to his hotel for the night before he leaves in the morning.

Lewis comes back home around eight pm to see you in your pajamas dancing around as you pull stuff out of boxes and put them in places around the kitchen. ‘Lover, You Should’ve Come Over’ by Jeff Buckley was playing throughout the house. The lyrics were ringing in his ears as he listened to you sing them.

“My body turns And yearns for a sleep that won't ever come It's never over My kingdom for a kiss upon her shoulder It's never over All my riches for her smiles When I've slept so soft against her It's never over All my blood for the sweetness of her laughter It's never over She is the tear that hangs inside my soul forever Oh, but maybe I'm just too young To keep good love from going wrong”

You spun around to get a box from near the door when you finally saw him, your smile beaming as your eyes lit up. You turned down the music but didn’t turn it off as you walked over to him, where he leaned against the door frame. He smiled at you as you came to a halt in front of him. He reached out and wrapped his arms around your shoulders and rested his chin on your head, as your arms wrapped around his waist. 

“How was the drive?” He asks, voice quiet.

“Long, but good, Dad’s heading out tomorrow morning.” You murmur against his chest.

“I missed you,” his voice was thick with emotion.

“Hey, I was only gone like three days,” you pull back and put your hands on either side of his face. “What are you going to do when you go on tour, or leave to film? Can’t just put me in your pocket and go with.” You giggle as he pouts at you.

“So where’s this mysterious car you were worried someone wouldn’t be able to drive?” He asked.

“In the garage, you can see it tomorrow. Right now, you have to help me move the piano into the studio.” You say as you pull out of his hold entirely to walk to the living room. 

You both got the piano into the studio successfully without damaging any of the equipment, but it was significantly more difficult than either of you thought it would be and took a whole hour; you both collapsed into a heap onto the couch after.

Over the following weeks, you and Lewis got to know each other more. You learned about how went to college to be a social worker, and he learned that you went to trade school and had a shit ton of certifications in different fields, so you could do odd jobs while you traveled. You both continued to bond over music, with him being the drummer for his band, and you as a ‘classically’ trained musician. 

During those weeks, your stuff had started to appear all over the house, goofy mugs sat on the drying rack by the sink, and in the cabinets, books of various genres littered bookshelves, and at least 2 of your blankets could be found in the living room, car parts were sitting in boxes in the garage waiting to be installed either onto your car or his truck, and sheet music could be found on almost any flat surface within the house. Your jackets and shoes had made homes in his entryway. And the number of plants around the home had skyrocketed.

~ 

Danny wasn’t sure he had the right house when he pulled up; the porch had a significantly larger number of potted plants than he remembered from his time living with Lewis. The garage door was open, and he could see a wicked-looking car inside that he didn’t think Lewis could ever justify buying for himself. But he double-checked the address, and it was Lewis’s house, and it was the day they had planned to meet up.

Lewis had told him that he could come straight in when he got there, and he did have his own key after all. He paused at the front door. He could hear music playing throughout the house, and he was sure that if he did have to knock, whoever was inside wouldn’t have been able to hear it. Unlocking the door, he was greeted by the smell of food coming from the kitchen and the sound of singing, which wasn’t Lewis's.

“Hey Lewis, I’m here!” He yelled into the house as he was taking his shoes off, before heading towards the kitchen. When Danny walked into the kitchen, he wasn’t expecting to see you at the dining table, in what appeared to be one of Lewis’s shirts and a pair of pants covered in paint. You were on a laptop and had a notebook next to you, and were chewing on the end of a pencil as you stared at the screen in front of you.

“Lew’s in his office,” you say, jamming a finger in that direction without looking up from your laptop. “Tell him lunch is almost ready and if he wants some he needs to get his butt out here in the next five minutes.” You add before you scribble something down in your notebook. Before you stand, crack your back and pick up your things, and leave the kitchen.

Danny was not expecting that to be how you would act, but he still wasn’t even sure who you were, and you left before he could even get a word in. Deciding to find Lewis, he goes to his office and knocks on the door. Lewis opens the door and up seeing Danny, smiles brightly.

“Hey man,” He pulls Danny into a hug.

“There was a random person in your kitchen who told me to tell you, quote unquote ‘lunch is almost ready and if he wants some he needs to get his butt out here in the next five minutes.’” Danny said after they separated.

“That’s my supposed stray I picked up a month ago.” Lewis laughed and started for the kitchen.

“Wait, they’re actually living with you?” Danny asked incredulously.

“Uh, yeah. Moved in officially like a week and a half after we got back.” Lewis answered. 

When they reached the kitchen, the music had been turned down, and you were pulling something out of the oven. It smelled even better than it did earlier. You set down the lasagna on a marble slab in the middle of the dining table, which had been set for three people. Once your hands were empty, Lewis decided to introduce you both.

“Danny, this is the stray,” He says, gesturing to you, “Sweetheart, this is Danny Ramirez.” You stick out your hand to shake Danny’s.

“Nice to meet you, Danny. Lew’s been singing your praises the past few days.” You say voice fond as you glance at Lewis.

“Nice to meet you as well, though I haven’t heard as much about you, I’m afraid,” Danny says as you release his hand and move to sit down. 

“Not surprising, I’ve asked Lewis to keep me under wraps, people aren’t my forte.” You reply.

“That explains why I haven’t heard about you since that first phone call,” Danny says, sitting across from you at the table. At the mention of the phone call, you shoot a look towards Lewis as he goes to grab drinks, you can see that his ears are slightly pink, from where you are sitting.

“I wasn’t aware that Lewis had told anyone besides the band that I was living with him.” Your tone was curious as you looked back over to Danny.

“Haha,” Lewis gave an awkward laugh as he sat down. “Well, it was before you actually agreed you’d stay. “ Lewis muttered.

“Oh, so that’s who you were talking to before I came back to the truck. Gotcha.” Was your response.

playlist | part 1 part 2

Taglist: @smoothdogsgirl @bmyva1entine @daisydark @sadpetalsstuff @articel1967 @xblueriddlex @louloulemons-posts

[ponderingmoonlight]

Oh, to be trapped with Dante

Pairing: Dante x fem!reader

Word Count: 1,3k

Synopsis: What's worse than getting trapped with Dante? Getting trapped with a stripping Dante.

Warnings: this is hilarious and fluffy at the same time, I'm still begging for Dante requests so get in my inbox if you have one, hope you like it @veijdana

You’re not sure what sets it off.

Maybe it’s the faulty lock. Maybe the door was always a little off its axes. Maybe the universe just has a sick sense of humour when it comes to you and that guy.

What you do know for sure is this: the door slams shut, there’s a sharp click, and no amount of jiggling the handle is getting you out of this storage room-slash-death trap. No windows, no signal, and the only light is from a flickering overhead bulb that looks like it could give up at any moment.

Perfect.

So much to being the greatest demon hunters of them all.

You turn slowly to Dante, who’s lounging against a metal shelf stacked with boxes labeled “Supplies” like this is nothing. Like he didn’t just help trap you both in a glorified closet with a single bottle of water and a half-eaten protein bar. Like he did something except for watching you struggle with that heavy ass door.

He raises an eyebrow.

“Problem?”

“The door’s locked.”

“I noticed,” he replies, utterly unbothered.

“Dante.”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

You cross your arms in front of your chest, barely able to hold it together any longer.

“Please don’t call me that right now.”

“Noted,” he declares, in a tone that means absolutely not noted.

He strolls over, casually tests the door for himself, then shrugs.

“Yeah. We’re stuck.”

“No kidding.”

“I guess we’ll just have to wait until someone finds us.”

“Which could be hours. Or days.”

He grins, shameless.

“Even better.”

You sit down hard the cold ground. It creaks threateningly, but you’re too irritated to care. He paces once, twice, then flops down across from you like this is a vacation, arms behind his head, one leg draped over the other ready to sunbathe.

Except this isn’t Miami beach but a mouse trap.

“Are you always this calm when you’re locked in small spaces with people you annoy for fun?” you question innocently.

“Only when it’s you.”

You narrow your eyes, gaze spitting thick venom at him.

“Do you actually enjoy pushing my buttons this much, or is it just some kind of defense mechanism?”

“Little column A, little column B,” he thinks out loud, flashing you a lazy smile.

“But if we’re being honest… you're kind of cute when you’re mad.”

You throw a balled-up wrapper at him. He ducks it easily, still smirking.

The minutes stretch. Then an hour. The silence tries to creep in, but Dante won’t let it. He talks. About nonsense. Old missions, weird dreams, things he overheard once that he probably wasn’t supposed to. You try not to laugh. You really try.

Eventually, you’re sitting on the floor with your back against the wall, legs stretched out, head tilted toward him without meaning to. He’s closer now, somehow. At some point. The distance between you shrunk while you weren’t paying attention.

“I think you like being trapped with me,” he mutters, voice quieter now.

Less teasing, if that’s somehow possible.

“You haven’t told me to shut up in, like, ten whole minutes.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s no heat behind it.

“That’s because I’ve accepted my fate. Resistance is clearly useless. And somehow I get the feeling it turns you on even more.”

“Exactly. Might as well enjoy yourself.”

He bumps your knee with his. You don’t move away. No, somehow, this faint touch has a comfort to it, a warmth you haven’t felt for quite some time by now.

The silence now is different. Thicker. Weighted. Like you’re both suddenly aware of how still everything is. How alone. It’s just you and him. You and the walking sex symbol itself Dante.

Your voice comes out softer than you mean it to.

“This is the part where you make some dumb joke about body heat, isn’t it?”

He chuckles, low.

“Tempting. But no. Not yet.”

You glance at him.

“Yet?”

He shrugs.

“I’m giving you a few more hours before I wear down your defenses. I’m not a complete monster.”

You shake your head, lips twitching despite yourself.

Another stretch of silence. Then:

“You ever think about it?” he asks suddenly.

You blink, caught off guard by that strange and unexpected question.

“About what?”

“Us. Like - if this whole ridiculous situation wasn’t so ridiculous. If it was… different.”

Your stomach does something complicated. You turn your head to look at him, your palms starting to get sweaty. Why do you always feel like this when he’s around?

He’s watching you, eyes dark and serious for once. No smirk. No teasing.

“Yeah. Sometimes,” you admit quietly.

A beat.

“I like the idea,” he confesses.

You nod.

“Me too.”

He shifts closer, shoulder brushing yours now, solid and warm and real. When he speaks again, his voice is barely above a whisper.

“Still not sharing my blanket, though.”

You snort.

“I’m not cold.”

“Yet.”

You laugh. And this time, you let your head rest against his shoulder. Just a little.

Just enough.

Bonus:

You're curled on one side of the room, using your jacket as a pillow. Dante's a few feet away, stretched out like he owns the floor, arms folded behind his head. The silence has gone companionable, easy. You almost forget where you are.

Until he moves.

You hear the rustle of fabric first. Then the unmistakable sound of a zipper.

You lift your head, every single alarm going off inside your head. No, he isn’t about to strip…Is he?

“What are you doing?”

“Getting ready to sleep,” he remarks like it’s obvious.

Which it isn’t.

At all.

Because his shirt is coming off, and now he’s unbuttoning his pants in the dim light of the room, clearly visible to your accustomed to dark gaze.

“Dante-”

“What?” he interrupts, glancing at you over his shoulder.

“I always sleep naked.”

You sit up straighter, just the thought of seeing him naked, let alone shirtless...

“You are not - you can’t just strip.”

He shrugs, already stepping out of his jeans like this is just another Tuesday with a pizza waiting on his desk for him.

“It helps with thermoregulation. Look it up.”

“Oh my god,” you mutter, turning away.

“You’re the worst.”

“You say that, but you’re not telling me to stop.”

You don’t. You don’t want to. Which is the worst part.

He stretches out again, now under the thin blanket you both agreed to not share (but he’s already claimed half of), bare chest barely hidden in the dark, a picture of shameless comfort.

You try not to look. You try.

He catches you anyway.

“See something you like?”

“See something I want to throw a box at.”

He laughs - low, satisfied, like he just won a game you didn’t know you were playing.

“Relax. It’s not like I’m gonna pounce on you.”

“You better not.”

“Unless you ask nicely.”

You grab your jacket and hurl it at his face. He catches it one-handed, grinning like he’s thriving on your outrage.

“Goodnight, Dante.”

“Sweet dreams, sweetheart.”

You lie back, trying to will your pulse to settle. But you can still hear him breathing across the room, steady and slow, and you swear you feel the heat from him bleeding across the short distance between you.

The night settles heavy. And you're very aware you’re trapped with a half-naked Dante, no door, no escape, and a dangerous lack of personal space.

Sleep is going to be impossible.

And you think he knows it.

“I still feel you staring-“

“Shut the hell up, Dante.”

[cherie-doll]

Jealousy Headcanons for cod men when they notice someone from you work place (a man) is starting to get a little too close/friendly with you to their liking🥹

𓆩♡𓆪 Headcanon: They're Jealous

=͟͟͞♡ Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Alejandro, Rudy, Phillip Graves, Makarov, Keegan, König, Horangi, Nikto

۶ৎ Not sure if you wanted these to be with established relationships or not so i just threw it in a bag, mixed it and got this; some are and some aren't

Price

It's probably nothing new for him to deal with, he was doing this before y'all even became a couple, keeping guys away from you

You're just the type of person most people find themselves naturally being attracted to after spending time together

He takes care of you so well, spending the moments he has spared and set aside just for you making sure you've got everything you need that it makes him irritated seeing someone else trying to replace him

They don't know you like he does, you don't gravitate or find yourself leaning towards them searching for comfort like you do with Price

And to show or add to your disinterest in this person he'll just use the intimidation tactic, wouldn't need to say much, just a simple look or stare communicates the message

Ghost

Simon recognizes he shouldn't even feel this smoldering fire growing within him

You're simply the cashier that he finds the least annoying because you're on minimum wage and couldn't care less about appealing to customers

But he doesn't like the looks your manager gives you every time he passes by, his jokes and attempts at flirtation are lame, even Simon cringes

Late at night, the hour before you close Simon comes in for last minute grocery shopping, it's just you and the manager, you stocking inventory near the back of the store, you sending shy glances in Simon's way, only to be interrupted by the pestering manager who doesn't seem to get a clue

His looming figure behind the manager who turns around, spooked and sputtering out a dumb question, asking if he needs something only for Simon to drop the bomb that you're his girlfriend and he needs to leave you alone

You may have felt a fluttering feeling in your heart that had you blushing in the storage room afterwards

Soap

Another friends with a blurred line where it's not distinct whether there are feelings or not, both of you too afraid to ask or confess

But it becomes all too clear when you're ranting to him about some guy who won't leave you alone and next thing you know his face is red, eyes set hard and looking far off

He's spent so long memorizing your favorite things, getting to know you, being your comfort and he just won't let someone else come and swoop you away when they barely know a thing about you, what if they only like you for your looks?

He stops himself at some point, feeling his heart thumping faster than it should, becoming all too aware that these feelings aren't normal between people who are just friends

And you know what? He's fine with that, he'll confront and come to terms with his feelings AFTER he takes care of something or someone that's in the way

Gaz

He won't hesitate at all to confront the person about it, doesn't matter whether you want his help or not

He doesn't get possessive nor claim you as his, but he doesn't appreciate someone getting too comfortable with you, it unnerves him

Would never place the blame on you, nor think you were liking the attention, he knows you probably thought them a friendly person until they crossed a line

Just imagine him holding your hand and kissing your forehead, you snuggling into him as he just says it's all taken care of and you think you wouldn't have to worry about going to work and dealing with that person anymore until he says he sent in your resignation letter

His tone doesn't even change so you probably wouldn't catch it at first, but maybe it's for the better!

On the bright side, you wouldn't deal with such bothersome people anymore

Roach

Roach boy gets sad, then a little mad and takes to trying to come up with all sorts of way to get rid of this dude

You find him up late at night tacking up bullet points on this board that has been scrawled over

You spend the rest of the night cradling his head in your lap, running your fingers through his hair trying to comfort him and listening to him rant all teary-eyed

Rubbing him in circles and just humming and nodding along like "mhm" to everything he says, it makes you mad knowing something like this set him off

So the next day you tell your junior off for inappropriate workplace behavior, you're fueled by seeing your boyfriend get hurt over it and he actually witnesses it happen and is all shy afterwards and you can't seem to figure out why until you discover he has a thing about you being dominant

Alejandro

Oh, he seethes at the thought of it

Seeing this guy's hand over you all the time even when he's right THERE, probably ticks him off even more when you come over to him with such a sweet smile when only a minute ago you were giving it to someone else

He's not necessarily pissed off at you, but it just gets him all riled up and he looses his rational mind

"Tell him to stop looking at you like that"

"Alejandro, I can't just tell him that!"

"Then stop looking so nice for him"

And if you don't take care of the problem then he'll do it himself even after you swear he's making a big deal out of nothing

Rudy

I can't imagine doing this to him i would cry-

You're trying so hard not to cause a misunderstanding and Rudy notices that but can't help being upset at this guy for not respecting you

He can't help but be worried for you every time he drops you off for your shift, his lingering hand on your arm as he pulls you in for a goodbye kiss for the day

Tries to hold you in the car as long as he can till you give him a smile that makes his heart do flips and assure him it'll be fine, but throughout the day he finds himself unable to stop thinking about the situation, so at around your lunchbreak he stops by

He walks in to see the coworker you told him not to worry about standing a little too close for his comfort

So Rudy just walks over and as soon as you see him your face lights up and you go right over to him and give him a sweet kiss as he hands you your lunch :)

Phillip Graves

Oooh, he would NOT let it slide

"Doesn't he know you've got a husband?"

"Phillip, calm down he's not asking me out or anything"

"But he wants to"

Phillip swears he's not misreading this guy, he must have other intentions if he lingers around you too much

You try to keep him calm before he tries to order an execution on the guy, if you've ever put a stop to his displays of affection in public before he's throwing that out the window and not holding back

That quick peck you give him? That's too chaste now, give him a DEEP kiss before he escalates it by grabbing both sides of your head and pressing harder against you until your coworker backs away

"Bastard better stay away, else I'll-"

"Okay, I think you've made your point Phillip"

If it doesn't work out, TRUST he will confront the guy in a dark parking lot and next time you're on your shift and wonder where the new guy is because he's late for his shift only for your boss to tell you he just quit

Makarov

FIRST, he'll pretend like he doesn't notice it, but he very obviously gives himself away

He'll be picking you up from work, because with the weather and all he doesn't want you to risk catching a cold, and when you walk out, your coworker who just so happens to clock out at the same time as you despite his shift ending an hour earlier than yours but he stayed behind hoping to walk with you

His eyes just stare at this guy through the black tinted car windows which cannot be seen through from the outside yet your coworker shivers making you believe it's this evening autumn air

Coworker is a bit disappointed and surprised when he sees you get into NOT THE DRIVER'S but the passenger seat of this expensive looking car because he was hoping to walk w/ you

Makarov doesn't even let you wave before he steps on that pedal, leaving the poor guy coughing in a cloud of smoke

THEN, it's obvious despite you telling him you barely interacted with this coworker that Makarov doesn't like it nor will he tolerate it

You quit a week later, he just reasoned that you shouldn't be working anyways

Keegan

I think you just notice when he's mad about something, like it bothers him enough to the point it feels like a thorn in his side but hasn't done anything about it yet

His jaw hardens, his hands clenched and in fists, slightly biting on his lower lip showing him in a pensive state

And when you ask him what's wrong he just shrugs, dismissing your inquiries because if he told you it wouldn't make sense

You're friends, not lovers, there shouldn't be a reason why he'd be mad if a guy does have underlying intentions about asking you out

These feelings that he believes are unrequited are no good for him, the longer he stays brooding, turning the thought over and over again feeling as if he's going obsessed and crazy over it to the point he's all tense and his actions are all repressed

Like he's holding you back, looking away when you turn to him and him staring at you when he thinks you're not noticing, all these things you notice but don't mention

It's driving him crazy and he's responding and giving curt answers to questions your colleague sends over text, phone calls or in person

"I just don't like the way he's talking to you, is all" makes it sound as if he were only looking out for you but it's obvious

König

Probably wouldn't even notice a guy was flirting with you, sorry but when in public he's less aware of smaller details in his surroundings, like he filters stuff out and goes on auto mode

You'd have to tug on his sleeve and when he FINALLY notices he just brushes the guy off like some bug on his shoulder, nothing big to worry about he'll go away soon

Sure, he doesn't like the idea of someone trying to take you away from him but all he does is keep your hand in his much bigger one and hold you extra tight :)

The only difference you'd notice is at home, he's a lot more clingy than usual, like a lap cat almost

Just laying on top of you, gently of course, falling asleep as he holds you, his mind off in a bliss as he knows you're there with him

Once you chose him he knows you're not going anywhere, he has that much trust in you <3

Horangi

Would laugh like it's some awful joke he was just told

Seriously, who would try that? Apparently that airhead who has excessive confidence thinking he could pull you, didn't he see the ring on your finger?

You're his fiancé(e), promised to him only, last time he checked it wasn't something someone else could try to bargain from him

The type to go "don't worry, I got this" while holding up a hand in front of your face, preventing you from taking further action

Next thing you know you see the poor, unfortunate soul walk out holding a tissue to his nose whilst Horangi emerges from behind with a smug smirk on his face, wiggling his eyebrows at you and asking what you would like for dinner

It was solved in less than 10 minutes, see? He's efficient

Nikto

For him, it's kind of like just disappointment, like he can feel his heart dropping slightly in his chest

Well, he couldn't be the ONLY one to find you attractive, he reasons, someone else must've noticed your charm, your kindness or something about you, things you've reserved just for him

But could that person reciprocate the quite acts of love he's given and dedicated to you? All that time?

Does the other person only glance over your features and not study them in depth? The soft curve of your lips when you smile, the eyes that shine for him...

Does the other person think of you more than just in a physically intimate setting? Surely, they'll never experience those acts of tender love like he does

And he feels like the luckiest guy in the world knowing he hasn't a reason to distrust in you

[lillyjen]

AI generation may use less energy than photoshop on your computer, but that's because the images aren't generated on your computer. The statistics on water & power usage refer to the vast supercomputers/databanks that do the actual number-crunching, & do actually require that much energy, whether you think it "sounds real" or not.

As for becoming more efficient over time, that doesn't really hold true for large data processing centers, because of physics:

Electricity is a type of energy. When energy is transferred (e.g. through a circuit), some of it is lost as heat energy. The better the transfer mechanism (e.g. circuit), the less heat is lost, but it is impossible to eliminate this loss altogether. This is why electronics get hot.

When heat is already involved, the transfer becomes less efficient, because the existing heat makes it easier for more energy to convert itself into heat energy, rather than whatever energy its supposed to be being used as. The hotter it gets, the more heat is lost, slowing down the energy transfer more & more, until it eventually stops working. This is why overheating is the enemy of electronics.

Because you cannot stop electronics producing heat, & the more heat you have in one place, the more heat is produced, having a lot of electronics in one place produces a lot of heat very fast. The more electronics you have, the more heat is produced, the less efficient they become. It doesn't matter how efficient the individual electronics are, this still holds true. (Well, it does matter, in that they will still be more efficient than the same number of less efficient electronics, but the rule of "the more electronics you have in one place, the less efficient they will be", still holds true.)

As for the water "just passing through the system" or "evaporating",

a) does it pass repeatedly through the system? Once the water is heated (by doing its job as a cooling agent) it then needs to be cooled in turn. Rather than ending up with an infinite string of cooling systems, the most efficient way to do this would be to remove that water from the system (sending it to be reprocessed) & replacing it.

b) every time water is used for one purpose, it must be reprocessed before it can be used for another purpose. Yes, even if it evaporates & falls as rain (which is something we have no control over, & also means that the water that evaporates from one place & falls elsewhere as rain, must be piped/pumped back to the place it evaporated from/it is needed). When we are talking about water being wasted, we are acknowledging the fact that this processing requires time, labour, various chemical agents, & many other resources. No, technically the water itself isn't "wasted", since it still exists ~somewhere~, but the fact that we are unable to access it whilst it is being processed (or floating around in the atmosphere) means the net result is the same.

c) There aren't 16floz in the system. There are gallons & gallons of water in the system. (Gallons & gallons that cannot be used for drinking, bathing, watering crops, etc. Gallons that are not currently part of the water cycle.) 16floz (roughly half a litre) is how much is used Per AI image. That's a lot. (Especially as prompts often generate multiple images. If a single prompt produces 4 images, that's close to 2 litres. If you then decide to refine the prompt....)

(Bonus reason data centers need cooling: environmental factors. Such large centers need a lot of land, & wide, flat expanses of land are often found in deserts, i.e. hot places. Others are built in cities, on ready-cleared land, which are also places that generate a lot of heat.)

I don't think it would be challenging to make an image generator that "respects copyright" (you could train it on public domain art and photos but you could also license massive libraries of stock photos and TV shows and book/album covers etc. from the media companies that hold the rights to them) and I think the existence of such a generator would not lead people currently mad about AI to suddenly be cool with it because it's really not about copyright.

[mdzs-owns-my-ass-i-guess]

Since MXTX said HuaLian live until the modern times, have some random headcanons:

Hua Cheng keeps being an interior decorating king so of course his and Xie Lian's home is tastefully decorated for every season and holiday. However, that doesn't stop Xie Lian from occasionally adding the fugliest item ever because he got emotionally attached to it in the store. "It was all by itself, San Lang, nobody wanted it... i know what that feels like better than anyone..." and now they're both sniffling holding an ugly styrofoam pumpkin in the middle of the fall decor isle of Ikea.

The stray animals food budget is off the charts but it's nobody's fault all strays are immediately drawn to Xie Lian and he has to feed them cause he "knows what it's like to be hungry". This does not just include cats and dogs but also rats, raccoons, several bird species and at least one coyote.

Speaking of budgets, the financial control authorities are lowkey on Hua Cheng's case because he is still stinking rich but nobody knows where the cash is coming from. They think Ghost City is the name of some shady mafia establishment and are trying to find dirt on Hua Cheng but there is literally nothing there and it eats the government alive.

Xie Lian occasionally dumpster dives in places where he knows they throw perfectly salvageable things. Hua Cheng cries every time it happens but he stands watch so the police doesn't arrest his husband for it.

In the same vein, Xie Lian insists on recycling literally everything. They have those different colored trash bins and everything, and every time Hua Cheng places an item in the wrong bin, Xie Lian gives him a disapproving look that has the ghost king crumble.

They have so many house plants. It's like a little jungle in their living room but the air is so crisp.

They keep several scrapbooks of paintings, pictures, letters etc from all the people they met to remember them even hundreds or thousands of years after those people have passed away. Even if they now have access to phones and other media for storage, they keep up the tradition of using scrapbooks and notebooks anyway.

Xie Lian is actually up to date with memes and internet slang but has embraced being a cringe Facebook grandpa and is now committed to the persona. Hua Cheng finds this hilarious (he runs a very well maintained beauty channel and a side channel on swords where Xie Lian features in every video and geeks out about their sword collection. They have a golden button and a very large following).

Hua Cheng has a 25 step skincare routine and only uses the fanciest brands of products for literally everything. Xie Lian still swears by 8 in 1 shampoo and somehow has clearer skin. Hua Cheng is both enamored and scandalized about it.

Hua Cheng is a very big fan of acryllics and lets Xie Lian pick the base color every time. Xie Lian takes this task very, very seriously and tries to coordinate it with any activities/events they have planned so Hua Cheng stays being stylish.

Hua Cheng has a portable Dyson Airwrap with him at all times because one time a kid said his hair looks like a wet dog.

Xie Lian is not allowed to get a job because every time he tried to along the decades he became a cautionary tale somehow.

[gay-dorito-dust]

hopefully tumblr doesnt eat this up again 😭

i was wondering how the batfam would reacted to getting caught watching edits of celebrity!reader

I’m just going to put them in a relationship with Celeb! reader just to make things easier for myself.

Dick doesn’t give a fuck if he’s caught watching edits of you! You’re his spouse of course he’s going to save each and every edit there was of you because it’s be a crime if he didn’t.

He’ll even show you the ones where he thinks you’re the hottest in shamelessly with a smile. He honestly can’t get enough of the edits that his FYP is filled with them and snippets of interviews that transition to the edits as well.

Dick has no shame in being caught because why would he? You deserve to have a thousand of edits in your name and Dick has one too many edits saved in his phone, so much so that your surprised his phone still somehow has storage for the next wave of edits that he’ll be saving should he deem them worthy.

‘Babe come look at this edit of you! You look hot!’ Is the most often used when Dick is showing off an edit of yourself to you in hopes of getting your opinions on it. You don’t mind people making edits, especially didn’t mind them now when Dick would shout ‘my spouse is fucking gorgeous! God damn’ out of seemingly nowhere.

You’re not even surprised when his Lock Screen is a live wallpaper of the edit itself, dick really didn’t have any problems showing you off in any capacity at all.

Jason is either calm with being caught or he’s wanting to strangle Roy because who else is going to rat him out to you about watching edits of you other than him?

‘Chipmunk I can explain-‘ Jason would start.

‘There’s no need, I know you watch edits of me sweetheart there’s nothing to be ashamed of at all.’ You tell him as you cuddle up to his chest. ‘It’s complete fine I’m not going to shame you in watching them, I think it’s flattering that you do.’ You add and Jason couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief as he held onto you, kissing your forehead.

‘It’s not my fault you’re perfect and the edits happen to capture that beauty sweetheart.’ Jason replied and you couldn’t help but chuckle as you looked at him sweetly, not knowing how much more you could possibly love this beautiful man as much as you could, especially when his cheeks flush with a red colour while he scratched his nose sheepishly.

You didn’t mind that he was watching edits and while he was glad about that he was more than certain to watch them elsewhere, more specifically away from Roy before he can rat on him…again.

Tim is terrified the moment you catch him watching edits of you, so much so that he completely forgot to pause the edit as you stare at each other, accompanied by music playing in the background.

It’s hilarious to you but embarrassing to poor Tim who believes that you’d see him as a weirdo for watching them, but all you do is laugh and kiss the side of his head before fiddling his hair affectionately. ‘Watching edits of me are you? And here I thought you couldn’t get more adorable Timmy.’ You tease as you kiss his cheek.

‘You’re not weirded out?’ He’d ask, holding his phone to his shirt, not wanting you to know that he was more or less the one making them rather than watching them. He’s literally got several usb drives worth of edit material to make, no joke.

‘Nope just flattered.’ You replied before leaving Tim be before he passes out from embarrassment. Little did you know he’s making about ten more edits as we speak, all of which have to be perfect and he’ll watch them ten times over if he must, for no specific reason at all.

Bruce is just admiring his beautiful/ handsome spouse. That is all.

Alfred would’ve most likely told you that he’s been watching edits of you when you’re away. It’s adorable and you couldn’t help but smile at how your handsome boy has an hidden file on the bar computer dedicated to your edits. (Dick and Tim found it by pure accident and dick couldn’t hope but tell you about it.)

Needless to say you won’t see him watch the edits but you’ll hear from everyone else that he watches them and that about the closest you’ll get to catching him in the act of watching edits honestly. However don’t be surprised when you see a video from Stephanie of her filing Bruce somewhere as he watched the edits of you on the big screen of the bat computer, his eyes filled with pride and awe of his pretty/ charming spouse looking so effortlessly ethereal.

While you might not have caught him in the act yourself, you still found yourself smiling at Bruce smiling up at the edits of you -and sometimes him because you’re a power couple- as a warmth encased your whole being, buts that’s more than enough for you as it can act as your own little secret.

Damian is good at keeping his little secret safe, so you seeing him watch edits of you were slim to none, and even if you did you catch him in the act you would have to have been blessed by Lady Luck herself.

He’s a little embarrassed that you caught him in the act, mainly because he thought he was better than this to let his guard down to be caught in an act like this, then he’ll become irritated at the fact that you had came into his own room just to catch him watching edits of you.

‘You’re watching edits of me.’ You said.

‘And? Did you seriously come into my room to tell me that? What happened to respecting my privacy?’ He retorts, arms cross over his chest. He didn’t care that you caught him, he’s just more or less annoyed with his privacy being violated.

‘Sorry my sweet I should’ve knocked, but you haven’t answered my question.’ You apologised with a little hug and a kiss to his forehead and Damian found himself forgiving you in an instant as he brought you back into a short lived hug, hiding his flustered face in the depths of your neck, tightening his grip on you.

‘Tim hacked my phone.’ He says in response and you just let it slide, knowing that he’ll admit to it sooner or later and not when he’s being cornered into talking. You knew he watched the edits because he’s totally infatuated with his spouse and Damian knew it too, but wouldn’t dare tell you until this moment has passed you both by.

So until then he’ll watch the edits in secret because he can’t get enough of how gorgeous you looked in them.

[chaoticace2005]

Why Vox needs to GET THE FUCK OVER THE RADIO DEMON:

(By Velvette, the only competent of the Vees)

(Her list for Valentino here)

1. He’s just not into you

2. We have better things to do than allocate company time to this.

3. He makes you look stupid

4a. He makes US look stupid (and Valentino already does that enough)

4b. Seriously how are we supposed to stop your boy toy from chasing whore around town when you can’t do the same with your ex? We need to set a (gag) good example for him.

5. What do you even see in him? Tacky coat. And that voice is so old-school.

6. You have two people who (reluctantly) want to work with you. Why spend energy on a guy who doesn’t?

7. This was seven years ago babe. Give it up.

8. I’m tired of finding your Alastor Body Pillow around the penthouse

9. Speaking of the body pillow, did you really have to spend 5k on it?

10. Company money should be used for COMPANY things. The fact we even have an “Alastor” budget is stupid. HE DOESNT EVEN GO HERE. ( @onesidedradiostatic )

11. He fucked off once, he probably will again.

12. Do you really want to fuck with someone who has the princess and king of Hell on his side?

13. It makes Valentino insecure about his sexual prowess, which is not good for anyone.

14. I have to LISTEN to him complain about it.

15. No matter how hard you try, nobody will ever beat “Susan” for #1 rival in that man’s heart. (Which is valid cause Susan SUCKS.)

16. Also you’re wasting company time by having Val put together shitty-Alastor look alike porns? Angel Dust does NOT look like Radio Demon ffs, I though Val was the blind one not you.

17. Your screens keep crapping out whenever you think about him, and we’re running out of ones in storage.

18a. I don’t want to keep having to go to overlord meetings for you because you’re having a breakdown over of he’ll be there or not.

18b. Speaking of breakdowns, STOP MAKING THE WHOLE CITY LOSE POWER.

19. You’ve taken over the entire office space with your Alastor-shrine. It’s not really an inconvenience, just creepy.

20a. Not to kinkshame but I walked in on you and Val fucking with Alastor-wigs on, REALLY?!

20b. Also I think you’re making Val insecure about his lack of hair.

21. STOP asking me to design Alastor-cosplay clothes for you. I don’t want anything to do with this.

22. I already have to deal with one pissbaby

23. Seriously, he isn’t into you. Maybe it’s cause you’re a mess. Maybe it’s cause he’s AROACE. Who knows.

24. You keep interrupting channels to brainwash people into hating the Radio Demon, when we should be brainwashing them into other things.

25. We can all hear you talking to yourself in the shower when trying to come up with shitty comebacks.

26. You display your dreams when you sleep, and while it was funny at first at this point it’s so boring. Val and I want to watch something actually interesting for once rather than the same shit.

27. You keep glitching out in bisexual whenever he comes up and it’s annoying waiting for you to put your shit back together again.

28. I’m sick of movie nights where we just watch your self-made compilations of “Alastor’s Epic Fails” or just watch security footage of him at the hotel.

29. Why do you even try and film him? Your shitty cameras can pick hardly anything up.

30. Honestly this whole thing is just pathetic.

31. Like it used to be cute but now?

[luxaofhesperides]

Danny accidentally appearing out of Duke's shadow. And doing it purposely every time after that. ; requested by @kyrianclawraith! (deviated from your original prompt a bit, sorry! the ghostlights brainworms got away from me)

Traveling through shadows has become second nature for Duke after using them so extensively over the years. He even uses them as a civilian, hopping between shadows when he’s running late to class so he doesn’t have to stress out over traffic. 

Not even Batman’s scoldings can stop him from making it on time to his classes. Risks need to be taken for the sake of his education!

The shadows are comforting. They hide him from sight, get him to where he needs to go, and gives him the alone time he needs when he’s been around people for too long and desperately needs some quiet to recharge. Duke would say that he’s well versed in the shadows at this point, no longer stumbling out into the light.

Even with all his practice and confidence, he still can’t prepare himself for tripping over someone in the shadows while he’s trying to escape some of The Riddler’s goons. 

They both go tumbling out of the shadows, landing in a corner hidden by storage shelves. The poor tripping hazard of a person is under him, groaning lightly as he reaches up to press a hand to the back of his head, where he hit the concrete floor. 

“Oh, shit,” Duke whispers, “I’m so sorry. What are you doing here? How are you here?”

“I was hiding,” the guy hisses back at him. “I wanted to get out of the rain and dozed off and when I woke up, guns were being shot! I was up in the rafters, so excuse me for thinking no one would find me up there!”

Another gunshot rings out, alarmingly close to where they are.

Duke curses under his breath, then picks up the guy and hauls him over his shoulder. “Time to go!” And then he’s disappearing into the shadows again, following the line of them outside the warehouse and down the street. 

As soon as they’re safely away from the goons, Duke steps out of the shadows and carefully sets the civilian back onto his feet.

“So sorry about that,” he says, “But I need to get back and deal with them. Stay safe!”

He’s gone before the civilian can say anything else, and though it’s embarrassing that he tripped over someone while shadow hopping, at least it ended relatively well. It’s not like it’ll happen again.

Duke, sweet, naive Duke, doesn’t think much of the civilian again. He’s a busy guy with a busy life! Lots of things to do! Lots of embarrassing moments to keep secret from the other Bats! No one has mentioned it at all, so he thinks he’s safe from being teased about it.

That is, up until he’s training with Dick and a hand pops up out of his shadow.

“Um,” Dick says, backflipping away from Duke’s punch. He lowers his escrima sticks and squints at the space behind Duke. “Are you… trying something new with your powers?”

“...No? I’m not using my powers right now.”

Dick looks more and more alarmed. He won’t look away from the space behind Duke, and it’s making him nervous. He doesn't want to look, but he knows he has to. 

Steeling himself, Duke takes a deep breath, then turns slightly to see what’s behind him.

Nothing. 

His gaze goes down, and he sees a pale hand sticking out of his shadow, moving back and forth. It then comes out some more, up to the elbow, and the hand pats the ground Duke’s shadow lays on, a stiff mat perfect for sparring.

Behind him, Dick turns on his escrima sticks, the electricity crackling through the air.

The hand disappears for a moment. 

Then two hands appear and grab the ground, hauling up a body from Duke’s shadow.

Duke is very well versed in shadows. He travels through them almost daily. He thinks he would know if there was some strange netherworld hidden in the shadows where other beings could pop out of shadows like portals. This is alarming, to say the least.

“Don’t move, Duke,” Dick warns, creeping closer, ready to attack.

A head pops out of his shadow. Whatever it is glows and their white hair moves softly as if underwater. They’re facing away from him, so he can’t see their face, but he can see the black, skin-tight suit their wearing as they float up from his shadow, no longer needing their hands to pull themself out. 

“Huh,” they say, looking up at the ceiling.

Dick grabs Duke’s arm and pulls him back, shielding him with his body. “Who are you?” he demands, voice cold. 

The creature/person startles and whips around to stare at them with wide green eyes. His gaze darts down to the electrified escrima sticks, then back up again, visibly nervous.

“Um, hi! Sorry, I didn’t know anyone would be here. Wherever this is.”

“How did you get here?”

“I was practicing a new portalling method. I found a ghost to teach me how to move through shadows, since my usual portals are very bright and noticeable. Not great when you’re trying to be stealthy! I did not mean to end up here.”

Duke stares at him. “You came out of my shadow.”

“Sorry,” the guy repeats. Then he squints at Duke. “Hey, didn’t you save me the other day? From the warehouse?”

It’s been a while since Duke’s saved anyone from a warehouse. Criminals and goons have moved on to condemned apartment complexes and the back rooms of bars. The only person he’s saved is the tripping hazard…

“Man, what is up with you and getting caught in my shadows?”

“This is your fault!” the guy insists. “I associate shadows too strongly with you! That’s why I’m here! Probably. I don’t actually know how this works.”

“You don’t know how it works but you did it anyways.”

“It sounds bad when you say it like that.” The guy floats down to the ground and offers Duke a hand. “I’m Phantom, by the way! Figured I should introduce myself because this will happen again.”

Duke considers introducing himself as the Signal, but Danny is looking directly at his bare face, so it’s lost cause. Talk about an unexpected security breach. “Duke. You looked a little different when we first met.”

“Yeah, that was my human form. This is my ghost form.” A watch on his wrist, some clunky looking thing that looks like it came from the early 2000s, beeps and Phantom frowns at it. “Shoot, I need to go. I’ll see you later!” And he dives right back into Duke’s shadow, disappearing.

Duke blinks at the empty space where Phantom used to be, still reeling from the shock of it. He’s so busy processing the last few minutes that he doesn’t hear the escrima sticks turn off until Dick is dropping a heavy arm around his shoulders, holding him in place. There’s a smile on his face, but it’s not happy; it’s a warning that he’s at his limit and is barely hanging on to niceties.

“So,” he says as Duke cringes, “Looks like we need to have a talk about the things you’ve been hiding from us, Duke.”

He can’t do anything but resign himself to his fate.

After that conversation, he’s instructed to let them know when Phantom pops up. Which is fine until he realizes that Phantom really did mean it when he said that it’ll happen again. 

Phantom pops up constantly. Most of the time, Duke is lucky enough to be at home, or in the Manor, or in the Batcave away from the public where no one will freak out about a glowing boy popping out of his shadow. Sometimes, he’s in the middle of the street as a civilian and has to sprint away, ducking into the first empty alley he can find in order to climb up onto the rooftop where no one will see him.

It’s stressful and confusing and he wishes he could be more upset about it, but Phantom is fun. He’s funny and charming and tells the craziest stories about ghost fights that Duke can’t help but hang onto every word.

He dutifully updates his Phantom Log, noting each time he’s portaled through Duke’s shadow, any information he’s revealed, and an injury count after Duke noticed a concerning pattern of Phantom often showing up after he’s been in a fight.

Duke begins to get a feel for when Phantom is about to show up. A shiver runs down his spine and his awareness of the shadows around him grows. Sometimes, he could swear he could feel something tear apart in his shadow. He feels it then, a tear that stitches itself up almost instantly, a ripple in the shadow, before that familiar hand pops up again and Duke grabs hold of it to haul Phantom out into his bedroom. 

He is, once again injured. There’s a large gash running down the length of his other arm, bleeding a toxic, glowing green. 

“Dude,” Duke says, unable to keep the judgment out of his voice.

“You should see the other guy,” Phantom snorts. “I slammed him through five streets, then ripped his limbs off.

“Dude…”

“Just to be clear, they weren’t his real limbs. He has a robot suit he uses like a body because he’s like a tiny little bean.”

“Yeah, I don’t know how to take that. Anyways, have you still not figured out how to open portals that aren’t connected to my shadow?”

Phantom shrugs. “Nope. And I’m not really trying to figure it out. I like hanging out with you. Plus, it’s nice to see a friendly face after a fight.”

“Can’t you like, go home and have your family take care of you first.”

“Uh, better not,” Phantom laughs nervously. “They’d probably kill me for real if they saw me like this.”

Duke quietly notes to himself to add that statement to the Alarming Things Phantom Says list. 

“Does it… bother you? Me always coming to you?” There’s a smallness to his voice, a fragility that makes Duke want to beat himself up for making Phantom feel like that.

“No! No, I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t keeping you from anyone else.”

Phantom brightens. “Oh! Well, no need to worry about that. No one’s worried, back home. They know I disappear sometimes.”

…Another concerning thing. Duke is considering bribing Phantom into staying in Gotham forever, living in his shadow, just so he can take care of him. Just to be sure Phantom’s safe. “Is there anything I can do for you?” he asks, eyes flickering down to Phantom’s bleeding wound.

Phantom futilely tries to hide the wound with a hand. The green blood leaks out from between his fingers, and he applies more pressure to the wound with a faint wince. “Nope! All good here. I’ll heal in no time, honest.”

“Then, do you want to just hang out? I really don’t know why you’d chose to keep coming to me.”

“You’re good company, dude. Very chill. Very fun. And you’re a hero! That’s so cool. Why wouldn’t I keep coming back?”

Duke shrugs, not sure how to put his insecurities into words. He’s already starting to get the Bat-specific inability to communicate emotions, which is definitely a problem. He’ll need to spend time with other people to be normal again. 

As if sensing that Duke’s mood is falling, Phantom launches into another tale, complaining about people who bother him, teachers who are terrible at teaching, having snark-fights with the embodiment of Time itself, and so on. He always has the craziest stories, and he tells them so casually that Duke has to second guess himself, wondering if he’s overreacting when he’s shocked by what Phantom tells him. 

He starts telling his own stories as well, mostly fun civilian interactions he’s had since they last spoke, villain fights, the ever changing theories on the ‘Who is Batman Sleeping With Now?’ shared document all the other Bats have. By the time an hour passes, Phantom’s arm is fully healed and he’s flying in lazy circles above Duke.

His watch beeps again in the middle of him recounting the insane drama happening at his school. Phantom sighs and sinks back to the floor, hovering just above Duke’s shadow.

“Thanks for letting me stay,” he says, voice warm.

Duke shrugs. “You’re good company. I like when you visit.”

A slow, soft smile spreads across Phantom’s cheeks, making him glow even brighter. “Sweet talker,” he accuses fondly, then flies in for a quick, tight hug. He pulls back before Duke can reciprocate, and salutes him with a cheeky, “See you soon!” and is gone, flying into Duke’s shadow before he can respond.

Shaking his head fondly, Duke falls back against his bed.

Despite how unconventional their friendship is, he is glad Phantom keeps coming back. He hopes he’ll get to see Phantom’s human form again.

…And get more used to the horror movie scene that is Phantom clawing his way out of his shadow. No matter how many times he sees it, the sight still makes him jump.

Not that he’s ever going to admit that.

If Phantom thinks he’s cool, he’s going to do whatever he can to keep that impression from changing. It’s only reasonable, really.

(“Shut up, Dick,” he says later when he recounts this encounter with Phantom. Dick just keeps laughing, endlessly amused that Duke got ‘jumpscared into a crush’ as he phrased it. That’s definitely not what happened.

Next time, he’s definitely convincing Phantom to scare Dick with him. 

Revenge will be his.) . . .

[send me ghostlights prompts! one day left before they close on 11/17]

[nadvs]

out of bounds (part two)

pairing zach maclaren and soccerplayer! female reader

rating mature 18+

summary zach has never been the type to rebel, but when he meets you at a soccer camp where you’re both working as counselors, which has a strict policy against dating between staff, he’s tempted to break the rules for the first time.

» part one

» masterlist

Your footsteps fall in and out of rhythm with Zach’s as you walk over the soccer field.

Even under the inky night sky, you can easily make out the sharp white lines spray-painted on the pitch as he stands across from you, your back to the net.

As a center back, this is where you spend most of your time in a game, defending directly in front of the goal. You used to love the nerves you’d feel before a match, but by the final month of the school year, you’d start every game already waiting for it to end.

You hope you can fix that this summer. And Zach is the perfect person to practice against since his main objective in his position is scoring.

He picked up a soccer ball from a storage shed on the way over, tossing it in his hands. You wonder if he offers to help all the newbies work on their game or if it’s just you.

“I don’t know if you know this,” you say, “but the ball’s supposed to be on the ground.”

“Most people say thank you when someone does them a favor,” he jokes, dropping the ball and dribbling it between his feet.

“I think you need to actually do the favor first,” you reply.

Zach smirks. He’s always been the type to chase the feeling of fun, and right now, he enjoys how easy things are with you.

He kicks the ball to you, and you stop it under your foot.

“Don’t go easy on me,” you say. “I’m serious.”

Zach sighs with a smile.

“What?”

“Nothing, just… my sister says that to me all the time,” he says. The memory makes his chest pinch. This is the hardest part of being at camp for seven weeks. It’s only been one day and he misses his family already.

At least when he’s at college, he can visit whenever he wants, but at camp, it’s a no go.

“Does she play soccer, too?” you ask. The ball scruffs over the grass when you kick it back to him.

“No, Avery hates sports,” he says. “It’s when we play video games. She kicks my ass and she tells me to stop letting her win when I’m genuinely trying my hardest. It’s embarrassing.”

“How old is she?”

“Ten.”

You smile. It’s sweet that he spends time with his kid sister.

“And she beats you? That is embarrassing.”

He kicks the ball to you with a chuckle.

“So, she’s not interested in coming here?” you ask, considering Camp Summit is for kids in her age range.

“No chance,” he says. He asks about your family and you continue to chat about your home life while kicking the ball back and forth until you eventually decide to do what you came out here for.

“You ready?” he asks, heading backwards a few steps.

“Give me your worst.”

Zach jogs towards you, expertly kicking the ball with every stride, approaching you quickly. You keep your eyes trained on his movements and the ball, reading the opponent’s body like you always do.

You shift between your feet quickly, trying to gain possession. He side-steps and fakes right, but you notice it in the way he’s positioned, and you take the window of opportunity to steal the ball.

You succeed and rush past him, then turn to smile at him, locking the ball under your foot.

“Jeez,” Zach says, hands on his hips. “Nice one.”

“Stop,” you laugh, convinced he’s just trying to flatter you.

“How’d you catch my fake-out?”

“It’s all in your body language,” you say. You kick the ball to him.

“So, you’re looking at my body,” he says, his tone sarcastically suggestive.

“Don’t let it get to your head,” you laugh, heading to where you were standing originally to reset.

“Too late.” He rushes back to the center of the field.

Your cheeks go warm. He wouldn’t risk dating at work. It’s against the rules. You could both lose your jobs.

But what’s the harm in flirting? He seems to like to do it with you just as much as you do it with him.

Zach jogs towards you again and you turn with him slightly, closing the distance once he comes close enough, mirroring him as he darts over the grass.

“It’s good that you don’t dive in right away,” he says between breaths. “I always get past defenders when they rush me.”

“Are you trying to distract me with flattery?” you ask.

“If it’s working, yeah,” he replies.

You laugh and continue to jockey, both of you moving with sharp, fast movements as he shuffles with the ball.

It’s a struggle, but eventually, he gets past you, sending the ball flying in the net.

“One-one,” he says. “You really made me work for it, though, huh?”

As you watch Zach run to grab the ball out of the net, you’re taken by how kind he is. Even after he gets a ball past you, he compliments you.

You refocus when he resets and jogs down the field towards you again. As the night goes on, you start to feel comfortable enough to make contact with each other, brushing arms and legs.

You stop keeping score, but it feels pretty equal by the time you’re huffing from all the exercise.

“You good to call it?” he asks, looking down at you as he pants after you steal the ball from him yet again.

“Yeah. I think that was more than ten minutes.”

His tongue swipes over his bottom lip as he smiles. He completely forgot he was out here with you, under a time limit, all because he was waiting for his friend to escort yours out of his cabin.

“I noticed something you do,” he says as you walk off the field together, taking turns kicking the ball far ahead of you. “You kind of give up when you think you won’t win the ball.”

“Why waste the energy?” you respond with a tired laugh. You check your phone to see that it’s almost 10:30.

“My coach always tells us that you have to believe that you’ll win every tackle,” Zach says. “It seems like you tell yourself you might as well stop trying.”

You consider his words. It’s true. It’s a bad habit you’ve picked up in the past year, a result of your dwindling confidence. And he’s a sharp player for catching that weakness.

Zach watches you, afraid he might have offended you.

“I hope I didn’t - that wasn’t out of line, was it?”

“No, no,” you say. “You’re totally right. Thanks. It’s helpful.”

You reach the dirt path, approaching the storage shed. He puts the ball away and joins you again as you make your way towards the staff cabins in the humid night.

“Gotta be honest,” he says, thinking back to what you said by the fire, “I’m surprised you’re not confident in your game.”

“My team doesn’t do that well,” you admit. It feels like you’re constantly ruminating over last season’s win/loss ratio.

“And what, that’s your fault?” he asks.

“I am usually the last one the other team crosses before scoring,” you say with a shrug.

“Actually, the goalie is.”

“No, she’s great,” you reply. “It’s not on her.”

Zach snorts.

“What?”

“You don’t blame her, but you blame yourself,” he says. “Makes sense.”

You nudge his firm shoulder. The contact is brief and playful and you’re comfortable doing it now considering you got so close on the field.

Zach nudges you back, touching you as if he always does. As if you didn’t just meet today.

“You mad I’m right?” he says.

“A little,” you reply with a small smile.

You reach your cabins. The shirt on his door is gone. It seems like your cabin-mates are back to their respective beds.

“Yeah, I’m still knocking very loudly just in case,” Zach says.

“Good call,” you laugh, heading towards your cabin. “Thanks again for the help.”

“Any time,” he says. You hope he means it.

Ami’s sitting up in her bed when you come through the door.

“Hey,” she says, “I’m surprised the bonfire went that long.”

“It didn’t,” you reply. “I was out practicing defense with Zach. Because his cabin was occupied.”

Ami grins. After she gives you a recap of her time with Malcolm, which she says went no further than heavy making out, she turns the attention back to you.

“How was practice?” she says. “If that’s what actually happened.”

“It is,” you laugh. “Great. He’s really good.”

“At what?” she asks suggestively.

“At soccer,” you laugh again. “We honestly just practiced. And even if he’s into me like that, he seems serious about the no dating rule. I wouldn’t risk it, either. I don’t know what you’re planning with Malcolm but apparently they’re actually strict about it, so be careful.”

“I will, but I’m not worried. We talked about how we’ll only be casual. And discreet. You be careful, too, okay?”

“Nothing to be careful about,” you say with a shrug.

“So, if Zach asked you out, you wouldn’t be down?”

Truthfully, you’re not sure you’d be able to resist dating him, even if it had to be in secret. Zach is impossible not to like.

“It’s not happening,” you simply reply.

Just like every other year, welcoming campers the next morning is havoc. Zach feels a sense of pride when he sees a familiar face, another kid who loved this place so much that they wanted to come back.

After the campers are directed to their cabins, orientation is held at the dining hall, followed by breakfast.

Voices bounce loudly around the hall as kids dig into their food, every counselor sitting at the head of the table with their cohorts.

He makes conversation, asking his boys questions to encourage them to talk with each other. His eyes flit up to you every so often, hoping he doesn’t get caught staring.

You’re sitting a few tables away, smiling as you chat. He almost can’t believe how much fun he had with you on the pitch under the stars last night.

Things are just so simple with you. He doesn’t have to think about what to say, because he knows you’ll play along or just laugh at his dorky joke. He likes you. A lot.

The rest of the day is dedicated to games across the campground, with training scheduled to start tomorrow. At one point, you ask over the walkie-talkies if anyone knows where extra flags for a game are kept.

Zach replies to check the top shelf of one of the storage sheds. You thank him and even though all he does is say You got it, newbie over the radio, you think about the way he said it for much longer than you would if it were anyone else.

Lunch goes by quickly, followed by more games. Throughout the day, Zach has noticed that one of his new campers, Oliver, has kept to himself. He tried to talk with him every so often, but he just got one-word answers.

So, when Oliver approaches him before Zach blows his whistle to signal the start of the last game of the day, he’s hopeful that he’ll ask about the game and finally show some interest in camp.

“I don’t want to do this game,” the little boy says. “I’m tired.”

It’s disappointing, but Zach doesn’t want to push him. Some kids just need time.

“That’s okay,” Zach says. “You can go sit in the shade. No pressure.”

Half an hour later, everyone goes to the dining hall for dinner.

While he eats, Zach is already exhausted and regrets volunteering to do one of the overnight shifts the first day. Every night, four counselors are scheduled to sleep in one of the four camper cabins, so that campers aren’t ever left without supervision.

It’s a guarantee of a bad sleep. Kids are always way too excited to do anything but talk to each other in their bunks on the first night, having to be reminded over and over that yes, even whispering counts as talking.

But Zach has always hated disappointing people, so he couldn’t risk letting down his aunt and uncle by not volunteering. He has the longest tenure of any other counselor here. He needs to set a good example.

After dinner, the kids are given free time before lights out, free to either hang out in their cabins or by the campfire. This gives some of the staff a moment to congregate by the dock, offering the perfect spot to keep an eye on campers without being heard by them.

It’s just past dusk as you stand by the boarded walkway leading into the shallow waters, looking out to your cohort of campers around the fire. You hear Zach ask about how the first day has been.

You look over to see him chatting with a couple of other counselors, a big smile on his face. It’s a good reminder that he’s simply a friendly guy and might not even be into you like that.

But when his eyes land on you and his smile gets a little wider, your heart refuses to agree with your mind. He must feel something, too.

Zach shifts closer to you, crossing his arms. His biceps bulge under his t-shirt. You quickly tear your gaze off of his muscles and up to his blue eyes.

“You surviving?” he asks.

“Did you think I wouldn’t?”

“Don’t know. Some people just don’t have what it takes.”

“You’re so much nicer to the other counselors,” you tease, looking down and shaking your head.

Zach feels himself blush, tense that you’re calling him out for brazenly flirting with you. But when your eyes flitter back to his, he can tell by your innocent smile that you don’t have any intention to embarrass him.

“It’s all an act,” he says. You laugh and cross your arms, mirroring him. “Your kids getting along?”

“I think so,” you say. “They already have their little cliques.”

“Yeah, that happens,” Zach says. He looks out to the campfire and you catch his smile slowly fade, his strong jaw tensing.

“How about yours?” you ask.

“Got one who seems like he really doesn’t want to be here at all,” he admits.

You follow his eye-line to the boy sitting on the steps of a camper cabin, staring down at the book in his hands as he reads under the porch light.

“Usually with those kids, it just takes a few hours and they settle in,” he says, “but I don’t know. I’ll give it another try.”

Sure enough, when Zach crosses the distance and asks Oliver what he’s reading, he answers with the title, then ducks his head to quickly back to reading.

You notice from far away, confident that if you were close enough, you would see disappointment on Zach’s face.

The next morning, Zach is even more tired than he expected. The overnight shift was full of interruptions. He’s sure he’ll sleep like a rock tonight.

As everyone sits in the dining hall for breakfast, you dig into your food, listening to your campers talk to each other.

Then, your eyes drift over to Zach. You realize he was already looking at you. It makes your stomach go numb. He quickly glances away.

You notice that the same kid he talked about last night is sitting at the end of the table, alone, picking at his food. Considering how helpful Zach has been, and simply because you like him, you decide to see what you can do.

Near the end of breakfast, campers begin to clear off and put away their plates, and you walk over and crouch at the end of Zach’s table.

The boy looks up at you with an unreadable expression. You introduce yourself, pointing to your name-tag, asking him his name.

“Oliver,” he says, looking back down. You notice he hardly ate anything.

“How are you liking camp?” you ask quietly. Your eyes dart up to look at Zach at the other end of the table. His lips quirk into a hint of a smile.

“I’m not,” he answers.

“Is there anything that would make you feel better?” you offer.

“Leaving,” he says. You stifle your frown.

“Besides that,” you reply. “And you can be totally honest.”

“The food here sucks,” he mumbles. You look down at the uneaten pancake he’s pushing around with his fork.

“What if we got better pancakes?” you ask.

“I don’t want pancakes,” he replies. “I want waffles.”

“Waffles,” you say with a smile, glad you at least got an answer. You stand. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Oliver looks up at you with surprised eyes. Something tells you that he isn’t used to being asked what he wants and actually getting it.

You head back to your table to rally your girls, but you find Zach before counselors start leading their groups outside.

“You said you had connections, right?”

Zach turns to see you standing behind him, trying to ignore the fact that his stomach flips when he makes eye contact with you.

“Yeah,” he says. Campers rush around you as you stand by the front door of the dining hall.

“If you can sneak in some waffles, I think Oliver might like it a little better here,” you say.

“He told you that?” he asks.

“No, I’m a mindreader,” you tease. “Yes, he told me that.”

Zach smirks as you turn away to rush back to your group. He can’t stop smiling even after you’re gone.

It’s a long, hot day. You were disappointed when you saw the schedule this morning, because while you like all the vets, you had hoped Zach would be one of the counselors you’d be paired with for drills today. Maybe tomorrow.

All afternoon, your walkie kept crackling and losing signal. You mention it to one of the directors, Ruby, when you see her by the main office and she promises to get you a new one soon.

After the campers go to bed, you head back to your cabin, expecting to see Ami. But her bed is empty. You double-check the schedule in the staff group chat to confirm she isn’t one of the overnight shifts tonight.

You figure she’s hanging out somewhere else on the campground. You settle in for the evening with a shower, then get into your pajamas and decide to do some skincare and self-pampering.

Zach lets out a tired, heavy sigh when he sees Malcolm’s text. He exits the dining hall and steps into the thick night air, rereading the message from his cabin-mate.

Ami’s over. I’ll text when she’s gone.

He just came back from the closest grocery store specifically to buy as many boxes of frozen waffles as he could carry after he got the okay from his aunt. He used up all the freezer space he could find in the dining hall kitchen and now, he just wants to lie in his bed.

He’s not sure what to do. He’s never been that confrontational at work, preferring to keep the peace, but if this becomes a habit of Malcolm’s this summer, he’ll have to say something to him.

He heads towards his cabin, just in case his best friend texts in the meantime. He doesn’t.

Before he can turn around to go sit by the lake to kill time, he notices the light spilling out from behind the edges of the blinds on your cabin window.

Maybe you’d like to keep him company like you did the other night. Without much more thought, he knocks on your door.

When you open it, you’re in pajamas, your hair wet from the shower, pink gel strips under your eyes.

Zach smiles, thinking you look adorable and wishing he could say it out loud.

“Hey,” you say. You notice he’s still in his work clothes, even though lights out for campers was over an hour ago. “What’s up?”

“I was, um… I was gonna see if you wanted to hang out,” he says, holding up his phone. “I just got the text version of the shirt on the doorknob.”

You laugh and quickly clue in that Ami is with Malcolm next door.

“So, that’s where she is,” you say. “Come in. We can hang out here.”

When the door shuts behind Zach, you wonder if he also feels the weight of the privacy you two have now. This is different from being out on the pitch the day you met. There’s no chance of anyone seeing you behind your closed cabin door. It’s intimate. Almost risky.

“How was your day?” you ask, sitting on your bed as Zach settles on the chair tucked under your desk.

You’re trying to act casual and relaxed, but it’s hard to when you meet his eyes. He’s too cute not to get shy around.

“Well, I just went into town to buy like, ten boxes of Eggos,” he tells you. “That’s a first.”

“Did you really?”

“I thought it’d only be fair if I got enough for my whole group,” he explains. “Turns out we don’t have a waffle maker, but we do have toasters, so it was the best I could do.”

“Nice,” you say. “I’m glad the kitchen staff were cool with it.”

“Oh, yeah,” he says. “I’m actually sneaking in the kitchen tomorrow morning to make them. The cooks have more than enough work, so as long as I don’t get in their way, I think I’m good.”

You still for a second, endeared. You knew he’d make an effort to help Oliver feel welcome, but he’s going to all these lengths just to make a kid happy?

“Anyway, my point is, thanks for the intel,” he says, realizing he’s tiredly rambling. “I appreciate you talking to him.”

You bashfully glance away. He tries not to stare at you. It feels like trying not to stare at you is all he does when he’s around you.

He’s damn near enamored. He likes the smell of your shampoo, the way you look in your pajamas, how sweet your smile is. He hopes his nervousness isn’t obvious.

“No problem,” you say. “So, you haven’t been in your cabin at all since lights out?”

Zach shakes his head, his smile not quite meeting his eyes. He’s clearly tired and bothered by his cabin-mate kicking him out of his room. You wonder if he’ll say anything to Malcolm, but for his sake, you decide to keep the atmosphere light.

“I have a lot of these,” you offer, pointing to the under-eye strips on your face. “You wanna try? It’ll help you relax.”

“Is it that obvious that I need to relax?” he says.

You only smile in response and stand to pick up a stack of multi-colored packets of gel strips from the basket on your dresser and hold them out to him.

Zach’s eyes travel over the colorful array, sitting still as you stand over him. You’re not surprised that he’s actually going along with it.

Some guys would be tense, acting like skin-care is feminine, and therefore, embarrassing, but he’s relaxed and nothing but green flags, like usual.

“Lots of options here,” he says pensively.

“Are you always this indecisive?” you tease after a long moment of quiet.

Zach looks up and pretends to glare, but the dimples framing his stifled smirk give him away.

“You mad I’m right?” you echo his words from last night.

“A little,” he says, just like you did. You got him pegged. He’s always been bad at making choices, especially under pressure.

“I can pick for you.”

“Bossy,” he replies. “But, yeah. Pick. Please.”

You laugh and randomly choose a packet, opening the purple packaging for him and holding out the film. He takes it in his hand, looking at it with furrowed brows.

You decide to help him out. It’s what a friend would do.

“Here,” you say softly, pushing down your nerves. Warm eyes meet yours and you try to act composed. You peel off one of the strips, pressing it up just above his cheekbone. His skin is hot, his stare strong.

You step a little closer, focus etched onto your face, the corners of your lips slightly turned up. As you apply the other strip, your legs brush against his knees and he imagines how nice it’d feel to drag his hands up the backs of your thighs.

You’re so close and so pretty that it almost hurts not to touch you how he’d like to. You’re just as flirty with him and he’s sure you’d want his hands on you like that, but he’d ask before doing it. That is, if you weren’t coworkers.

You can’t help but giggle when you step back to look at him.

“What, is purple not my color?” Zach asks.

“No, it totally is,” you reply. “Keep them on until they feel dry.”

You settle in your bed again, your back pressed against the wall, legs stretched out.

“How was your day?” he says, having to clear his throat. “I never asked.”

“Yeah, you didn’t. Rude.” Zach smiles at your joke. “It was good. My first overnight shift is tomorrow. How was it last night? Did you actually get any sleep?”

“Not really,” he admits. “But the first night is always the roughest. You’ll be fine.”

He fails to stifle a yawn. You figure that after a bad sleep, a busy day, and running an errand in town, he must be exhausted. Once again, like it always does with Zach, your curiosity is too strong to ignore.

“Does this bother you?” you ask, vaguely motioning in the direction of his cabin.

Right now, Zach doesn’t mind Malcolm keeping him out because it means time with you. And while he’d normally say something like that openly, never having been one to shy away from sharing thoughts like these with a girl he likes, the stakes are so much higher right now.

Because dating is against the rules. Because you might reject him. Because he’s actually never been this nervous around a girl before.

“It’s okay,” he simply says. You wonder if he’s just not one to stand up to people.

“I can talk to Ami if it becomes a problem,” you tell him. “I won’t say you said anything, but let me know if you want me to mention it.”

Before he can reply, there’s a knock on your door. You answer it to see Ruby standing at your front step holding out a new walkie.

“Hey,” she says. “Sorry you had tech issues today. We can swap.”

“Oh, perfect,” you say. “It’s no problem. Thank you.”

Zach freezes when he sees his aunt. This looks like… well, it could simply look like two friends hanging out. But it might look like more.

As you take the new walkie and cross your small cabin to exchange it for your malfunctioning one, Ruby catches Zach’s gaze and offers him a genuine but confused smile.

He decides to try to act normal, even though he feels like he just got caught doing something he shouldn’t be doing.

“She’s not going to get in trouble for breaking it?” Zach jokes, pointing to you.

“I didn’t break it,” you reply with a laugh as you hand the old walkie to your boss. “I’m not in trouble, though, am I?”

“Nope,” Ruby says lightheartedly. Zach nervously chews the inside of his cheek. Her tone could mean that while you’re not in hot water, he is.

He watches you shut the door. It’s not like you got caught hooking up. But he wouldn’t even be able to explain what he’s doing here. It would mean snitching on his best friend for breaking one of the major rules staff need to follow.

A rule that it looks like he’s breaking. His stomach twists. He always hated disappointing authority figures, especially ones he so badly wants to impress.

When you settle on your bed again, you notice Zach peeling off the gel strips, his lips in a firm line.

“Everything okay?” you ask.

“Yeah,” he replies. “Thanks for these.”

“Sure. Doesn’t seem like they relaxed you, though.”

Zach tosses the patches in the wastebasket and stands. Your heart sinks when you realize he’s leaving.

“They did. I just wanna lie down,” he says with a soft chuckle, hoping he’s not being terse. “I’m beat.”

“You can rest here while you wait for-”

“No, it’s alright,” he interrupts, heading for the door. You realize his whole demeanor has shifted after Ruby popped by.

Zach looks over his shoulder to see your features drawn in confusion and sadness. He opens his mouth before the words come to him seconds later.

“Sorry,” he says. “It was fun hanging out with you.”

“You, too,” you reply, your smile erasing the hurt on your face. You want to tell him he’s welcome any time, but he leaves in a rush.

Maybe it’s wishful thinking or maybe he’s simply a nice person, but you’re sure you both feel the magnetism between you.

And he must be really freaked out at the thought of you doing something about it, based on how stiff he got after Ruby came by, possibly suspecting that things are more than friendly between you.

The more time you spend together, the thinner the ice you’re skating on gets. You don’t want to risk the fall and cost you both your jobs.

So, as you get up to brush your teeth, you promise yourself that no matter what, you’ll keep things strictly professional. For your sake and Zach’s.

(part three)

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[ihavetoomanyocsdealwithit]

Moments the boys fall in love with Yuu  

Romantic or platonic, mostly fluff, a little angst with comfort  

Ruggie Bucci, Jack Howl, Deuce Spade, Ace Trappola, Rook Hunt  

Ruggie Bucci

Yuu had been helping Crowley with all sorts of paperwork this year, as she had taken on the apprenticeship under him for education. She was already doing most of it anyway, might as well get paid for it right? But it gave her access to a lot of information other people don’t.  

So when she found the grant and looked at the details, she knew she at least had to offer it.  

Yuu knows better than to pull Ruggie out of class, he hides it well, but it pisses him off. He can’t afford to get anymore behind than he already is compared to these rich bastards. So, she slips a note to the teacher to give to him to arrange a meeting in the next few days.  

It ends up being over dinner at Ramshackle a few days later, after a late shift at the Monstro Lounge, that she finally gets to talk to him.  

“So, you can tell me off, but I ain’t doing it out of pity or nothing,” she starts, pulling out a stack of papers. He cocks his head, starting to skim over the complex and small text. “Long story short, it’s a grant for schools under a certain income bracket to receive additional help, including a three-meal program. If you can convince instructors to continue using the building over breaks, you can even continue with meal program during the breaks so that the food comes around all year, all shipped in and paid for on the governments dime. It lasts around 5 years.”  

Ruggie’s ears are flat against his head, flipping through the pages. She gets the impression that he would have set his plate down if she hadn’t waited until he had scraped the pot clean.  

“NRC obviously makes too much in donations alone,” especially from the royal families, no nepotism rules her ass, “but if you could give me some more details about your place, I might be able to-” 

“Set up an actual school.”  

That makes her pause. There wasn’t...no.  

“I know you said that you learned from the hard knock school of life but...there’s nothing?” she asked. 

“Naw. So, this grant would guarantee that a school could stay and that the kids might actually attend, especially with the promise of food.”  

“Well, I’ll need to find the forms for that, but I'm sure it's doable, especially if I can make a good case. It was pretty buried in there, so I don’t think I’d have to try too hard, I don’t imagine a lot of folks even know about it.”  

He squints his eyes at her, leaning back in his seat.  

“What do you get out of this?” he asks, folding his arms, “You don’t know my home. You don’t know my people.”  

“No, but I know you love them and you work hard for them every day.” She gestures to the apron folded over the chair. “And if you do, I will choose to. Besides, you and I both know these rich bastards have no problem taking our taxes and doing stupid shit with it. Might as well take it back and apply it where it needs to be.”  

He huffs, covering his mouth as it turns to a full cackle as he curls in. He might have said something in between his laughs? She can’t tell, but he’s cheeks are ruddy and glowing when he finally collects himself.  

“Alright Prefect, what details do you need?”  

Jack Howl

There were lots of places boarded off at Ramshackle that Yuu was still exploring. Finding a sunroom was the last thing she thought Ramshackle Dorm might have, but after sweeping and cleaning the place, it’s charming. Open windows, dark frames lining the three out of four walls, and the furniture actually isn’t too bad, just needing a wipe down and some wood oil to make it shine again. The fact that Ramshackle was also being used as an oversized storage unit helps since it has upholstery, furniture and fabrics for repairs for every dorm that she can really make the place shine.  

She knows that Riddle and the boys would love to decorate in Heartslabyul colors, line rose boxes and vines and lilies in the hanging baskets, but she has a better idea.  

“Hey, Jack!” She calls out after track practice. He raises a hand at her, giving his body a light shake to get rid of the soreness in his muscles. “Do you have any succulent or cactus cuttings you could spare?” 

His ears narrowed in straight on her, standing a bit straighter.  

“Ah, yea...I could have some sent from home too.”    

“Is this about the sunroom?” Deuce asked. “We could have some rose bushes sent in from Heartslabyul too. Riddle would be ecstatic to have the Queen’s roses out.”  

“No offense to Riddle or Heartslabyul,” Yuu rubbed the back of her neck, “But there are roses everywhere. Queen Heart’s Roses, Fairest Roses, Thorn Fairy Roses, you get the idea. Besides, I like plants that are heartier and don’t require alot of tending too. Just free to do their own thing.”  

The only reason Jack’s tail wasn’t wagging is because he was holding it. Deuce snickered behind his back, cackling as he avoided the swat at his head.  

“Let me bring what I have at the dorms right now. Besides, it’ll be nice for my dormmates to not be able to mess with it at least some of them.”  

Jack wasn’t able to bring anything big with him when he came to NRC, but the cuttings would grow quickly. The fact that his Mom paid for some of the bigger ones to be sent carefully through the mirrors helped fill out the space, and Leona donated some of the ferns and larger faunas when Ruggie mentioned it. It was in exchange for having a daybed in there so he could nap whenever he wanted, but it was a small sacrifice.  

By the time they finished putting the room together, including sewing together some pillows in Savannaclaw colors and tightening a few screws on the benches and chairs, it looked like a slice of his dorm. Mainly yellows and oranges, with the soft greens of the succulents and more saturated green of the cactus to accent it all. His cactuses were clearly the center point though, blooming like nothing else.  

His Mom had also taken the opportunity to send Yuu a few old clothes that his sister no longer fit in, warm sweaters and shirts that were very much in the style of home. Jack hadn’t known until they started unpacking the box, but Yuu had loved them and he couldn’t find it within himself to be too upset. Afterall, Yuu didn’t have much to begin with, and he knows that fall will be coming in soon.  

When he comes in a few days later He sees her curled up on a chair with her study materials. The tap of her pen against her lip, the smell of heat and fauna thick in the air, snuggled into an old hoodie of his, he can’t even blame his heart for skipping a beat.  

It’s only natural, he tells himself. Instinct even. He doesn’t have to think too hard about it.  

“Why’s your tail wagging?” Yuu asks, pointing to his back.  

“No reason!” he barks, ignoring the way he’s heart does it again as she cackles.  

Only natural.  

Deuce Spade

Deuce would tell you that he’s not the smartest guy in the room. He knows that academically he struggles, and even sometimes with common sense. There’s a lot of things that he never learned or forgot because he made some stupid shitty decisions in his past.  

Maybe that’s why he prefers studying with Yuu one on one instead of a group. Yuu is having to teach herself the basics too, history, spell work, math, literature, they aren’t exactly on the same page, but they are closer than he would prefer to admit.  

Riddle, bless him and his tenacious ways, kept his notes from all his grades. It’s binders and binders worth of material and even if they are slow at it, Riddle never says anything about how long the binder is gone from his bookshelf. He simply continues to offer help.  

Yuu gets the idea after she sees Riddle’s magicam and puts 2 and 2 together with Cater’s exam results.  

So, the next time they get together, she takes him to a side room where a broken radio is.  

“What’s this?” He asks, looking at the tools set off to the side.  

“I have an idea,” Yuu says, sitting on the floor. “I’m going to quiz you while you fix the radio.”  

“Huh?”  

“I have an idea, I think it’ll help, I just need you to trust me.”  

He shrugs his shoulders, rolls up his sleeves and starts answering questions as he pulls the panel off. The quiz is tomorrow and anything is better than nothing at this point.  

Professor Trein smiles at him a bit as he passes the quizzes back at the end of the period.  

“Well done Mr. Spade. Your studying is paying off well.”  

83. He had gotten an 83.  

“Dude!” Yuu jumps on his back, hugging him, “Awesome! It worked!”  

He knows the blush on his face isn’t pride or joy. Neither is the goofy grin. But if that’s what Yuu thinks when she sees it, she doesn’t need to know.  

If they dance together with that fixed radio and his hands linger a little too long on her hips or waist, he doesn’t think too hard on that either.  

He isn’t a very smart man, but he knows he is a happy one.

 

Ace Trappola

Ace will admit that he’s an asshole sometimes. He is self-aware enough and selfish enough to not care. But he isn’t a complete asshole, and really, he’s just preventing you from being stuck with another Overblot like what happened on Winter Break!  

That was the only reason he invited Yuu over. No other reasons.  

He of course does the polite thing and introduces you to this family, including his brother. He doesn’t dislike his brother, he’s actually pretty cool, but he’s aware that he is cooler than Ace. And smarter. And more handsome.  

He isn’t purposefully keeping Yuu away from him, but if it so happens that every time his brother is home that you two are out doing things, that’s just a weird coincidence.  

It’s sunset on the last day, and his family insisted on a cookout all together. They like Yuu a lot, and for the most part try and keep him out of trouble. Which meant lots of talking, family telling stories and comparing between the two of them, like they always do. It isn’t malicious, he knows that, but it hurts sometimes when his brother has a seven-year head start. It’s winding down now though, with his parents and brother going to bed already for work in the morning. They should have been, the train leaves early the next morning, but neither of them can sleep, so they are trying to wind down with cards. Ace always has a pack on him, but in his room he has multiple. He’s even nice enough to let Yuu pick the deck she wants.  

“You ready for tomorrow?” she asks, laying a card down.  

“Totally. I love my folks but being here just makes me itch to leave again.” he makes a pair, chuckling at her huff, “Besides my brother is...well he’s my brother, you know.”  

“I mean, he’s ok, but I much prefer hanging out with you.”  

It’s such a small thing that it shouldn’t matter. It shouldn’t. But damn if he’s face doesn’t twitch into a genuine smile. Prefers him. Yuu prefers him.  

“Ah, you gotta crush on me?” He teases, poking her cheek, “You got something you want to tell me?”  

“Oh, fuck off.” She snips, kicking his foot, “You got an ego that makes Vil look humble.”  

He can only laugh, muffling his delight into a pillow. He tucks the memory away with a breath, making another pair.

 

Rook Hunt

The gardens of Pomefiore aren’t as well-known as some of the other dorms, but they are beautiful, nonetheless. Carefully cultivated and trimmed, it has more of a nature tamed by man aesthetic, but it was still beautiful.  

Rook knows them better than most students, spending so much time amongst the trees, bushes and flowers to practice his hunting skills and photography. When Yuu asked him for pointers, he was more than happy to give her a hands-on lesson.  

“And that is how you achieve this effect!” He says, setting the glass off to the side.  

“Nice!” she nods, finishing the note she was writing. “That is so much easier than what I was picturing. I can’t thank you enough for this Rook, this will help so much with the commission that Crewel gave me. What got you into photography anyway?”  

“Having pictures of Roi De Poison and Monsieur Curiosity that nobody else has? Bliss! But also, I do so enjoy the thrill of the hunt. Photography gives me the means to shoot and not kill my target. Their beauty must live on until fate takes them. Or my arrow.”  

Yuu cannot help but chuckle a bit, figuring that was the case.  

“Vil told me a bit about the day you two met. It makes sense. He also said you started in SavannaClaw?”  

“I did. Transfering dorms was the best decision I have ever made!” He touches the leaves above him, the apple tree swaying a bit in the cool breeze. “Why do you think I switched dorms, Mon Trickster?”  

Yuu zips up the ghost camera into her bag, taking a moment to try and phase her words. The Rook that Vil described reminds her of herself here. Ambition with no direction. Goals of survival with no room for anything else. Of being so cautious and gentle with everything around, but the people aren’t with her. Even those that care for her bruise her, even when they don’t mean to.  

“I think...you got tired of your life feeling like a museum.” Rook cocks his head at her. “Before, you kept your hands behind your back, quietly observing, scrutinizing and praising the beauty around you but never interacting. I don’t know if you thought you didn’t deserve it or that you couldn’t have it, but I think you got tired of imagining what softness would feel like. I think you decided that you would rather be an active participant, in your life, even if it meant changing, however scary it is.”  

It is quiet behind her. Yuu secures the last of the props into the tote, still waiting.  

“Rook?”  

She doesn’t get a chance to turn around. His front thumps into her, arms wrapping around her shoulders.  

“Apologize Mon Ami. I was stunned by your wisdom un moment.” He whispers. She feels him take a deep breath into her shoulder, but he’s hat completely blocks him from her view. “You might be the closest yet.”  

“Huh?”  

“Nothing, nothing!” He jumps in front of her, grabbing the tote with a bright smile. “Let us return, Roi de Poison does hate one being late!”

“We are meeting Vil after this?” She asks, jogging to keep up his pace that’s more like a skip.  

“Of course! We have traveled much today. We must replenish with good food and drink!”  

He goes on to describe what is on the menu, but inside it is taking everything within him not to gather you up and take him home. Oh, Mon Trickster, you read him too easily. He will have to keep you close in the years to come to just keep himself safe, in whatever capacity needed. There is, after all, more than one way to be a lover.  

[mullermilkshake]

Which choice is wrong?

It's always raining. Though today is different.

Android!Suguru x Sex worker!Reader Inspired by Detroit become human (AWESOME GAME BTW) Fem!reader,Naoya is a dick,Blood and gore/ violence,Mentions of abuse/ getting paid to receive abuse,Prostitution,Murder,Choking,Strangling,Bent over a desk,Blood spray

<<< For more Suguru content, click this link to go back to the Masterlist! >>>

It was raining again.

It always seemed to rain on the days you were furthest down in the pit you couldn’t seem to get away from.

Just one more month. Then, you could escape the place that had forced upon you a false sense of security under the guise of taking care of their own, giving you opportunities to make connections and garner more attention. When you got out of here, like hell would you ever go to the rich old men that fleeted in and out of those double doors just for a touch of your body.

You loathed the attention, but how were you ever to pay for the piling medical bills if you didn’t? Illness struck families like a train wreck, while evident of the damage at surface level, the true monster lusting for blood lingered underneath where no one could see him.

Still, you worked that pole every night like your own life depended on it and waited for the inevitable. You catch someone’s eye and they pilfer you off into a specialty private room for thirty minutes and do whatever they want to you- within reason.

Warranted, the reasons were… vague. 

But that’s why each girl had a state of the art android to accompany them in each room. The club stated they were merely for the client’s needs, though you saw it as a deterrent. Though the androids did not gossip, or even function as real human beings, their extraordinarily human-like faces were enough to make the more aggressively sexual men think twice. They did not need to eat, gather materialistic things or take bathroom breaks. And required no payment in return for their services.

The android who you were automatically paired with on arrival was more often than not, the same one. It seemed to like going by the name Suguru. Well, you couldn’t quite call the android ‘it’ to its face, the android was far too human-like to ever be considered an ‘it’ by you.

So you referred to the android as ‘he’. And Sugru seemed to be content by it.

“Good evening, Miss Lady.” His name for you when every other android referred to you by first name alone.

“Hello, Suguru. How… how are you doing?” Like he could actually give you a detailed description of sitting in storage until the club opened.

“Delightful. I’m ready to work tonight like always. I hope you are well?”

He watched you like he always did, more closely than the others. It was as though he was trying to work you out, or figure what facial expression you were using to properly gauge the conversation. You could never read him because you never knew what he was thinking, that was if he thought about things in the first place.

What do androids think about when they aren’t working? Do they judge people, or maybe they talk to each other like some weird social network we aren’t aware of? 

“I’m good, thank you-”

“Still conversing with those things like they know how you’re feeling?”

You looked over your shoulder and noticed your colleague already dressed and ready, her skirt riding up her thighs and heels higher than necessary. It only made her taller and more intimidating, right from the soles of her feet which she loved stepping on weaker men with, to her snow white hair that fell effortlessly past her accentuated shoulders.

“Hi Mei, uh… I-” you stopped before you followed her into the dressing room. “I’ll be right out, Suguru.”

Mei’s sarcastic chuckle made you follow behind and try to justify yourself. “I just feel bad for these androids… no pay, constantly working or sitting in that stuffy warehouse when they aren’t. It sort of makes me feel bad, y’know?”

“They’re just expensive hunks of metal and plastic, Love. Nothing human will come from them, they just turn a profit.”

“But what if one day, they did?”

A constant thought across your mind, what if one day, an android decided that enough was enough and snapped? You had seen how those things were treated in public, who knew how they were treated behind closed doors? With the advancements in technology, anything was possible now.

It made you wary of them.

“I doubt they’ll do it in our lifetime, if they were to do something like that. I wouldn’t bother about it, not when the tips are this good and we don’t have to share with them.” Mei sat down at the dresser and fiddled with her hair whilst you began getting changed.

You had done your make up before you left home tonight, the routine taking far too long to entertain getting wet out in the oncoming thunderstorm. You took a taxi, an expensive one at that. But again, you reiterated to yourself that you only had a month and you could get out of here and find another job while you paid off one of the bigger medical bills you had been saving for.

Another job, one more dignified and better paying. In the coming week, you had three interviews lined up, all fully aware of your current occupation and they all still agreed to entertain an interview. You were incredibly hopeful.

“Well, I’ll be off.” She climbed back out of her seat and smoothed out the skirt that covered a portion of skin Mei usually had on show. “Yaga’s back for seconds. I just can’t help but make him feel tiny. Poor man…”

See, Mei had a niche which had the usual suspects and even the more shocking ones flock to her. You had a niche too. A dangerous one to get as many tips as possible.

You learned how to apply makeup pretty early on to flawlessly hide the evidence of the clients misdeeds so that it didn’t prove you to be ‘used’ or ‘damaged’. That seemed to lower the amount of tips you would receive on a nightly basis. Sure, Makeup took time, but when it was the difference between a thirty dollar tip, to something more upwards of two hundred dollars, you learned exceedingly fast to understand what men wanted.

In other words, you let them downright abuse you, if you wanted to call it what it actually was. Though your manager just called it being overzealous, or sexually frustrated. It still never stopped you from wandering home at three o’clock in the morning and sobbing in the bathtub scrubbing the sweat and filthy fingerprints from your body on a nightly basis.

Still, One more month to go. Then you’d be free for a time.

“Are you ready, Miss Lady?” Suguru had been waiting outside for you like he always did, almost waiting on your command to leave the spot he’d been instructed to wait.

“I am, you can go ahead and wait at the bar until I have a client, Suguru.”

He blinked at you, his expression even neutral. “My apologies, Mr Zenin, has sent over the docket for tonight. You already have five bookings and you are to go into room three  momentarily, but-.” His eyes stared blankly into nothing. “Mr Zenin has just requested you into his office.”

Naoya Zenin, the club manager once taking over from his father who was just as much a bastard and he was. You barely ever saw him these days and when you did, it was maybe for a few minutes before he took his usual girls into his office to fuck. Everyone seemed to love him, you absolutely loathed him. Most of the girls here had slept with Naoya at some point, the exceptions being you and Mei, because Mei made it clear that she’d never do such a thing for free when she could get paid for it.

And Naoya Zenin wasn’t a man to be belittled like she enjoyed. No, he took pleasure in doing that himself.

“Uh oh…”

“Is there anything I can help with?” Suguru remained on that spot, his head tilted to the side as he studied your expression.

“Can you come with me? I-I think I know what this is about.” Your resignation. You were obligated to, by law, give electronic notice on file to even attend an interview. Some companies withheld releasing it if they weren’t sure of your suitability for the job, and some did so before the interview. This meant one of the jobs you were interviewing for must have decided to take you on without an introductory interview.

So Naoya must have received your resignation.

“Of course.” Suguru nodded and led you across the club to Naoya’s office.

Would he get angry? Of course he would. You being the only girl that let men hurt you the way they day turned a huge profit for him, he was set to lose out on a large chunk of money if you were to go.

But he couldn’t keep you here. Well, you were sure he couldn’t.

You knocked and tried to make sure that it left no room for interpretation that you were scared, or anxious in seeing him. The door slid open automatically and Naoya Zenin sat behind his desk like he was the king of this little fucked up kingdom his father created.

Talk about riding on someone else's coattails.

“Mr Zenin, you wanted to see me?” You bowed as was custom and stood as straight as you could so the animal could not see you as prey, yet he did most of the time.

Suguru stood off to the side and seemed to power down, staring off into space at a specific spot on the panelled wood wall.

“You walk in 'ere tonight just like that, and yer handing ya notice in?” He was never one for actual introductions or pleasantries.

What could you even say to that? ‘I dont fucking want to be here anymore you creepy prick?’ No, even though you wanted to.

“Uh…I-”

“Stop mutterin’ and use yer words carefully.”

“I have family obligations that have changed, so I have to be available at night. My apologies, sir… I haven’t attended any interviews yet- I didn’t know they were-”

You jumped at the sound of his fist banging on the table that should have shattered his own fist, your heart thumped and never settled whilst the adrenaline pumped through your system.

“You think you can leave?” His wide grin did not match the fury in his voice. Then he huffed and seemed to simmer down instantly. “I guess you can do what yer want, who am I to stop ya, hm?”

Every alarm bell in the pit of your stomach jumped up and down and screamed at you not to trust him, to get out and leave right away. “Thank you, Sir… I-I realise this is sudden.”

A month was not sudden, he had plenty of time to find another girl to replace you. But would he? Again, your gut was coaching you to step back and leave through the office door and maybe use Suguru as a shield of sorts to protect you from the raw anger you knew Naoya had.

“Come ‘ere.”

“Sir?”

He motioned to his lap and patted it, practically cooing at you. You were in no position to refuse now either. Would Suguru protect you if Naoya were to do something rash, or would he just watch like all the other times you were in a fearful situation?

“I said, come here.” He said so with a terrifying smile on his face that you assumed was supposed to be a comforting one.

You did, and instantly regretted that decision.

Naoya sat lazily slumped in his chair, turning to face you with a certain impassive expression. “Yer a clever girl, aren’t ya?”

How should you respond to that? “Well… I-”

It was quicker than you ever could have anticipated, Naoya took a fist full of your hair and pulled you down awkwardly so your head was level with his own. “Y’think you can just walk outta here? I own you, yer contract is up when I say it is.”

“Mr Zenin- ow!- please let go, I have clients!”

He yanked you close and his voice grumbled in your ear to tickle it uncomfortably. “You work when I say. You stop when I say. You fuck when I say. Got it?” 

You were certain if you agreed, he’d let you go. “O-okay, I understand-“

He stood up and kicked the large office chair behind him which slammed against the wooden panels. You lost your balance as he pushed you, still with a fistful of your hair so that you fell on top of his desk.

Just then, the office door opened. “Mr Zenin I have some-“

“Fuck off!”

You couldn’t tell who it was, but they reacted to Naoya’s aggressive words like anyone else. The office door closed immediately and you were on your own again.

Suguru still remained where he was after a brief glance you managed in his direction.

Stupid android. Think for yourself! 

It was like he was unaware that you were bent over Naoya’s desk, his hips pressed against you and his ironclad grip squeezing the base of your neck which shoved your face into the mahogany.

“Now. You’ll be a good slut, and do yer job. Or I’ll make things real difficult for you. Do y’understand?”

“Mr Zenin-“

“You women are all the same, aren’t ya? Always me, me, me and never thinkin’ what the men want. I could kill your right now and y’wouldn’t be missed… don’t forget all I do for ya, a lil appreciation wouldn’t go amiss.”

Now he was squeezing your neck, silently choking you. His weight on top of you made it difficult to move, to speak, plead.

“S-Suguru…” his blurred out of sight when things got dark.

“I’ll keep a close eye on ya from now on, don’t yer forget it- what that fuck do you want, fuck off!” 

You couldn’t see what was happening, you only gasped for breath and coughed, spluttering at the sudden release from your neck. Naoya had let go and gone silent, but you didn’t dare move or open your eyes for fear it was some sick test.

A struggle. You sensed a struggle behind you. He could have been putting his perversions on you and touching himself. That’s what you assumed until you dared to look and saw that Suguru was no longer where he was before. 

“You fuckin’…” you took a chance and spun around to see Naoya clawing at Suguru’s hands around his neck.

“Apologise to her.” The android said, teeth gritting and fists shaking.

“S-Suguru,” you were still coughing and nursing your neck. “Don’t kill him… They’ll deactivate you.”

“Fuck… you…” Naoya managed, his eyes swelling and bloodshot from an insurmountable pressure.

You didn’t realise the blood splatter until you were sprayed with it, when Suguru ripped his throat out and showered you with iron smelling red. Naoya clutched at his neck and went to grab you, falling down to his knees gurgling like a hose pipe. And then, he didn’t move after he fell to the ground.

You tried to breathe, taking in little shallow half gasps to try and calm yourself before you spoke. You were sure to scream in terror to cope with all that blood. There was a lot of blood in the body, no one ever mentioned that before. 

Suguru covered your mouth before you could scream, pulling you close to his chest and burying his fingers in your hair. The blood was seeping into you strapped heels and disgustingly clinging between your toes. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I just could bear it anymore. I really tried.”

You managed to pull your head away so that you could try to formulate words. Suguru’s change of character begged a question that managed to articulate itself amidst the panic.

“W-what… how are- how come…”

How was Suguru talking that way and why was he moving more fluid than you’d ever seen?

He caressed your cheek and rubbed red from your face. “I know this must be a shock, to be honest it is for me too. I don’t really know what’s going on.. But seeing you hurting all the time makes me so...” He was searching for the words. “Angry… and I don’t want you coming to harm ever again. Not while I’m around.”

“You… you’re thinking for yourself.” So the time came before your lifetime ended. “They’ll deactivate you for this, Suguru- I can’t protect you.”

“No… it’s my turn to protect you. We'll run away, and you never have to come back here again.”

The thought of running away occurred to you, just not with an android. Especially one that had just murdered someone right in front of you. You wanted to say no, but the power imbalance frightened you. What if he didn’t like your answer and did something to you? He said he didn’t like people hurting you, but never expressly said he wouldn’t hurt you.

“How does that sound? Do you want to get out of here?”

What was the right choice?

Leave with him in fear of the police and fear of his sudden temper?

Or send an android who was just protecting you back for deactivation?

Whichever you chose, you’d have to live with the consequences.

DISCLAIMER - Crossposted from my AO3 - I do not own any of the characters or anything from the anime or game. This is a work of fan fiction and is absolutely not representative of the views or intentions of the original creator(s).

Also please don’t post any of my work without permission thank you!

[the-gay-trashmouth]

I think something that's bothers me about how folks talk about mouthwashing is how they talk about Swansea. It's either "Swansea would have killed Jimmy immediately if Anya had told him" or "he knew and he did nothing just like curly." because, to me at least it leaves out a lot of nuance to his character and situation. Curly and Swansea are really good foils to each other, one who's got a reputation for being the kind and helpful captain but in the end does nothing to truly protect the crew from Jimmy, and one who's gruff, harsh, and cruel but genuinely tries to help in the background, the reliable mechanic.

(read more for a long Mouthwashing character ramble tw for unwanted pregnancy and SA)

Because Curly is the one with the power. He doesn't take what Jimmy did seriously enough. And you can say that he might not have known fully what Jimmy did, but I think the "I told you" pregnancy conversation and his reaction to Jimmy right before the crash ("come on we'll get through this together. We'll figure it out, you've had hard times before-") are indicators that he knew, but he still chose to stick by his friend and treat it like a "mistake" rather than what it really was.

Now that's my own personal speculation of course, there's no outright scene of her telling him "your best friend assaulted me", but I think there's enough evidence in game through Anya and Curlys interactions to say that he knew, and he knew before Anaya knew she was pregnant. He had a fully functioning ship and four fully functional cryo-pods. He could have at least given Anya more security, kept her far away from him, and at most forced him into the cryopod until they got back to earth. Jimmy STILL had full, uncontrolled access to the cockpit AFTER his freakout with curly. AFTER Anya tells curly she doesn't feel safe with him. AFTER Curly finds out he raped Anya. He's so focused on seeing the good in his friend that he does NOTHING to protect Anya, doesn't strip away not one of Jimmy powers as copilot and consequently endangers her and the rest of the crew.

Curly was the captain, he had the power to relegate Jimmy to the fucking storage closet if he really wanted, at least put him in the cryopod until they got back to earth. In fact, he was the only person above Jimmy in terms of rank on the ship, but he chose to do nothing. He chose to let Jimmy continue as acting co-pilot, chose to comfort him rather than actually confront him. Slides off his weird sexual comments as jokes "So what's this about horses?"

Now let's compare that to Swansea, the mechanic.

We don't have any evidence that Swansea knew about what Jimmy did until after the crash ("it's been her telling me things") where they were trapped with no captain, barely any rations, and a single cryopod that he kept hidden away in the one room he had the key too (and the only room that could lead into medbay). He didn't use it for himself, he makes it clear he didn't intend on getting off this hunk of metal in his last few conversations with Jimmy.

Swansea as the ship's mechanic, was used to fixing things in the background. He didn't need to get along with anyone to keep the ship running, he didn't need people to like him to keep them safe. We see that with Daisuke. He's harsh on him, for sure, but he leaves constant notes to help him learn. Genuinely tries to keep him out of harm's way when it comes to more dangerous jobs. We know Anya was scared of Jimmy getting a weapon, she hid the gun case in the medical bay even knowing she would never get it open. We can see Swansea and Anya off on their own towards the first days after the crash, and Swansea still has a tight grip of the axe weeks and months later.

I personally think that was him trying to keep Jimmy from having access to a weapon. The only time Jimmy gets the axe while Swansea is alive is when Anya Specifically asks him to use it to get medical supplies. I don't think that's a coincidence.

Swansea, like any good mechanic, was quietly trying to keep things running out of Jimmy's sight. It's not until everyone is dead or dying that he snaps, that he finally takes direct action. But it was too little too late.

Both Curly and Swansea thought they were doing the right thing, helping in their own way. Curly genuinely wanted to see the good in Jimmy, wanted it to just be some challenge they could overcome, but in doing so he failed to see the monster right in front of him. He had all the power (in context of the crew, the company is a whole other can of worms I have so many other thoughts on), but he was too afraid to use it. Hell, he was DISCOURAGED to use it if the memo about HR complaints are anything to go by. Swansea, on the other hand, never trusted Jimmy, never even really liked him, but he didn't want to make anything worse either. He didn't know what would actually set Jimmy off, or what he was capable of, and aside from just straight up killing him what else could he do that wouldn't just push Jimmy further off the edge? Like with the foam. "One wrong move and you'll rip this ship a new asshole", he worked carefully, hiding the last pod from Jimmy, keeping the only other weapon on himself, guarding the only other entrance into Medbay, but Jimmy was escalating quickly. He underestimated how far Jimmy was willing to go, just like Curly had, and in the end suffered the consequences.

The only character who actually understood how dangerous and unstable Jimmy was is Anya. She knew the moment she found out she was pregnant he would hurt her ("you won't let me protect myself"). He wouldn't be able to take it, he would do something drastic. She knew he was escalating the longer they were stranded. Anya is the only crew member who truly understood how dangerous Jimmy was and took direct action.

And interesting thing to me is that she doesn't just kill herself. She locks herself in the medbay. She could have waited for Jimmy to sleep, or locked herself in the cockpit, but she locked herself in the medbay with Curly. She knows that with her gone there would be no one left to take care of him, she knew Jimmy would continue to escalate his abuse, and with her gone all of his anger and fear and guilt would turn on Curly.

And wouldn't you know it? She was right. Without Anya to stop him, he takes curly out of the bed, forces him upright into the cryopod, and forces a man with no skin, no arms, no legs, and infected tissues to be frozen for 20 years while the rest of his crew Rot. And that's only what we know to be reality- if any of his delusions had some basis in reality he could have done so so much more. Anya is the Only one to take reasonable, direct action to keep herself, and then Curly, safe.

But she didn't have enough power over Jimmy to truly protect herself. She didn't have the code to the gun case, she didn't have a weapon or a rank to fall back on. She was outnumbered by men who she knew from experience either wouldn't or couldn't keep her safe, and she was heavily pregnant with a baby she didn't want and most likely couldn't even get enough nutrients to sustain either her or the fetus. She was physically weakened and trapped in a stranded ship with her abuser with no way home and a medical miracle (curse) in Curly.

This game is a really good reflection of reality, in my opinion as an abuse survivor. Some people will see them as "one of the boys" and constantly excuse or downplay their actions (Curly), some people will do small things in the background, recognize the abuse and disprove, but don't want to get in the way or make things worse (Swansea), and some people are just straight up oblivious/naive (Daisuke). But in the end, it's the system that allows abuse and incentives coverups to keep peace or save face that really allows abuse to fester and escalate.

Which is why I personally have a problem with the idea that Anya should have just Told A Different Man because it ignores the very real chain of power and her own agency in her story, AS WELL AS the idea that Swansea and Diasuke knew but didn't care because that's just not reflective of real life. Not every man is some rapist apologist who doesn't care what abusers do until it happens to them, some people just don't know what to do, or don't have any good options that wouldn't result in further abuse. Hell some people just don't even fucking notice! Not everyone has had exposure to the signs or knows what to look for.

It's easy when looking at fictional depictions of abuse to say "well if I was there I would have just punched him/killed him/called the police" but real life, in that moment, its never going to be clear cut. You can call out abuse, but that might just lead to that abuser taking it out on their abuse victim later. They could even start to target you for daring to speak out, or try to hurt you and cut you off from the person being abused. You can know all the right steps and the right programs, but in the moment, when faced with a real situation where someone could get hurt or even killed? You stumble. You think things over, you don't try and make any direct moves that would set their abusers off. Sometimes that's a good instinct, and sometimes that just lets abuse escalate. It's never a good situation, and it's never actually anyone's fault but the abusers. And this way of thinking also conveniently leaves out the survivor of this abuse, and portrays them as someone who needs to be saved, rather than someone who needs support and resources to save themselves. It also very conveniently lets the company that Put Anya in this situation in the first place get off Scott free.

The solution isn't "oh one of the men on board should have personally killed Jimbo and saved Anya all by himself" its "Anya deserved the support of her crewmates instead of being forced into close proximity with her rapist and also maybe Jimmy shouldn't have access to the fucking controls or medbay or any weapons- AND ALSO the crew shouldn't have financial incentives not to report things to HR"

[rassicas]

hello!! lately i've been thinking about houses/interiors in splatoon as i've been pondering some up for my ocs, & i was wondering if there's any info on them in canon? so far the best that comes to mind is the splat 1 loading screen & that new art of acht, but I was curious on if there's anything about apartments & interiors specifically... tysm! :-]

Unfortunately we don't have much, and considering how much living spaces vary in real life even within the same culture, it's hard to say x thing applies to all splatoon households. the game developers are japanese, the game takes place in japan, and takes inspiration from japanese culture and daily life. taking that into consideration, where canon fails, i use modern japanese living spaces as a reference for imagining what an interior may look like in inkadia. headcanon aside. time to dig up what canon info i've found regarding homes and living spaces

In the Octotune album booklet we get one of the few examples of an inkling home interior, the Houzuki mansion. though pearl, as well all know, is Insanely Fucking Rich and our average inkling is NOT going to be living this luxuriously. one useful tidbit we can get from the text is this:

Q5: Wow! Is this the garage? Pearl: That's just the shoe storage, man.

the word she's using for shoe storage is ゲタばこ which is a cubby you're meant to put your shoes in before entering a house, located in an entryway. in other words, implying a cultural norm of taking your shoes off before entering (something adhered to more strictly in japan vs america). not like this is really followed in official art showing inkfish at home (except for this s1 era piece of an inkling watching tv) probs because shoes are cooler lol

let's see what else ummm bedding.

s1 and s3 dialogue for flounder heights mention futons. traditional japanese bedding typically laid out on the floor when in use, and folded up and put away in a big cubby during the day. its a common sight to see them hung out in the sun on the balcony to not get moldy. some of those things draped over the railings in flounder heights are futons.

not everyone in japan does this though- youll still see western style beds or even futons on bed frames since taking it out and putting it away is a pain in the ass. also not every apartment has a built in proper futon storage space. (...mine does, but i repurposed it into another closet and just use western style bedding lol)

same is true for inkadians too -the bed in the s1 splashscreen doesnt look like a futon to me. point is there's options for what do with the bed situation.

speaking of the apartment splashscreen for s1, there is a blurb in the artbook about it and how inklings are typically pretty tidy with their living spaces.

im sure there's plenty of messy inklings too. anyway there's just a few tidbits about living spaces in relation to canon info. unfortunately there's Nothing about the bathroom or how they bathe, though previously i shared my headcanons about how i think that could work. for the kitchen i think all we can do is assume. Acht has a fridge how surprising /s at the start i mentioned that i take inspo from japanese life where canon fails. ive spent a few years in japan so this works conveniently for me LOL but i assume most people following me do not have that experience. so for those who wanna take that japan inspo too, here's a few small things that are different in japanese living spaces that ive thought may be true for inkopolis? -living spaces are so much smaller on average (of course) -washing machines do not use heated water and like Nobody has a drier in their house. laundry is hung on the balcony, or by the window if there is none, to dry. you want a drying machine? go to the laundromat. -big ovens? like for baking? casseroles? this is Rare in japanese homes. more likely youll see like a little toaster oven. microwaves with an oven setting. i have a gas stove with a fish grill drawer like this. ive never seen this in america but i KNOW in my heart inklings would have this -tiniest fucking kitchens sometimes. a pattern ive often seen for little one room apartments is a pathetic kitchen space in the hall between the entrance and bedtoom where its like. one sink. and space for an electric burner. you want counter space go fuck yourself. if youre a broke inkling who doesnt cook much this may be the option for you. -i think every house ive been in has had a genkan in some form.

[harunayuuka2060]

Crowley: MC? MC? I have a new job for you—

Grim: The hench-human is at the roof, fixing the holes.

Crowley: Oh. Would you tell them to get down so we could talk?

Grim: Nah. It's raining. I don't want to get wet.

Crowley: I'll just wait here then. And ooh~ Looks like they've made some changes already.

Grim: They said it was barely habitable. They got a few things from the storage room to renovate the dorm a little.

Crowley: What a talented individual.

Grim: So, what do you want from my hench-human?

Crowley: You see, I'm thinking of turning you both into students of Night Raven College.

Grim: Mryah! Really?!

Crowley: Yes. I've realized that it would be a waste to just have them work as a janitor.

Grim: Mryahah~! Wait. *frowns at him*

Crowley: Is there something wrong, Grim?

Grim: You want to exploit my hench-human!

Crowley: Wh— Of course not! Where does that come from?!

Grim: They're already cleaning the whole school and that isn't enough for you?!

Crowley: I have provided you food and shelter!

Grim: Hench-human has to work outside the school mryah! Because the food you're giving us ain't enough!

Crowley: They still have time for that— *clears throat*— Well, they could've asked for more. That shouldn't be my problem.

MC: *walks in* *dripping wet* Hey, Grim. Can you grab me some towel— *noticed Crowley*— What do you want?

Grim: *flies to their side* He wants to exploit us!

Crowley: Certainly not! I'm here to offer you to officially become a student of our school. *smiling*

MC: *raised an eyebrow*

MC: Yeah. Grim sure could use that.

Crowley: H-How about you? Are you not interested?

MC: Nah. I'm good. I had vocational courses in my world. No need for me to have a diploma here.

Crowley: Oh. I did hear from Grim you got a job outside the campus.

MC: Yeah. I realized I can't live off solely from your benevolence when I'm feeding a glutton.

Grim: I'm not a glutton!

Crowley: ...

Crowley: I see. But as you've said, Grim could use this opportunity. So would you be taking the job I'm about to offer you?

MC: *smirks* Sure. I can use some extra income.

Crowley: ...

Crowley: I can only offer you a minimum wage.

MC: I'm not picky.

Crowley: Wonderful!

Leona: Huh? Who's that?

Ruggie: Don't you know? They're the janitor.

Leona: What are they doing here in Savanaclaw?

Ruggie: They've come to inspect each dorm in Night Raven College.

Leona: Huh?

MC: Some of the rooms here are full of shit.

Savanaclaw students: Why do you care?

MC: Shitty rooms, shitty people. *yawns* I feel like burning this whole place down.

Savanaclaw students: You can't do that!

MC: I can, pals. If you don't start cleaning right now.

Leona: ...

*In the housewarden meeting*

Leona: Hey, Crowley. What's up with that?

Crowley: *smiling* Is there a problem, Kingscholar?

Leona: Why does that punk get to do a dorm inspection?

Idia: Yeah! They have no respect to anyone's privacy!

Vil and Riddle: ...

Riddle: That isn't true at all.

Vil: Heartslabyul and Pomefiore were commended for their unwavering commitment to cleanliness and orderliness.

Vil: And they had asked for permission beforehand.

Azul: Though if you were to decline, they would persist and resort to using force to gain entry.

Kalim: I got scolded for keeping bugs in the kitchen...

Riddle: What the hell—

Crowley: MC's job as a dorm inspector only happens every end of the week. So you have nothing to worry about regarding invasion of privacy. *smiles*

Grim: Hench-human... *seems exhausted* *flies to their arms*

MC: You alright, buddy?

Grim: I hate classes... I give up.

MC: *chuckles* Looks like your preschool brain can't handle college classes.

Grim: Mryah! What did you say?!

MC: *pets him* Told ya to learn your ABC's first.

Grim: MRRAAAAHHHH!!!

MC: Easy, bud. Easy. I got you some food.

Grim: Take back what you said!

MC: Nuh-uh. Just prove me wrong.

Grim: I'll prove you wrong! Watch me!

[deancaspinefest]

The Width of a Circle

Author: imogenbynight | Artist: Randi

Posting on Sunday March 30

Years ago, while investigating a missing teenager, Dean made an account on a blogging platform in the hopes of tracking down the monster that took her. He’d planned to delete the app once they wrapped the case, but one thing led to another, and the next thing he knew he had a surprisingly popular blog on his hands. Over the years, he’s become kind of dependent on the outlet his "Circlr" community affords him, especially when going through hard times. Hard times like now. Because Cas just came back from the dead, and he’s already taking off again. Leaving Dean behind to raise Jack in Washington where he’d died not so long ago, hoping to give the kid the time and space he needs to get a handle on his volatile powers. Feeling abandoned and rejected, Dean needs pocket friends more than ever. Cas, meanwhile, has no idea how to raise a teen. Luckily, the internet has directed him to a blogging platform full of helpful advice, recipes, and semi-anonymous people to befriend...

Keep reading for a sneak preview!

There are very few circumstances in which Dean is relieved to see Sam and Cas having a conversation without him. It’s not a jealousy thing. Not entirely, anyway.

Mostly, it’s a danger thing.

Even individually, Cas and Sam can be reckless and single-minded. When they team up, Dean’s learned to brace for impending disaster.

So when he shuffles into the kitchen a little later than usual the morning after they get back from Dodge City to find Sam in his workout gear and Cas sitting stone-faced opposite him at the table, he knows before either of them even turn to meet his eyes that he’s not going to like what’s coming.

“Everything okay?” he asks anyway.

Sam grimaces.

“Yeah.”

“You lie to cops with that face?”

“I have to talk with you about something,” Cas cuts in, and indicates the empty seat next to Sam. Dean’s favorite mug is sitting there like a peace offering. Dean eyes it with distrust.

“How bad is it?”

“It’s not bad at all,” Cas insists, and gestures again toward Dean’s seat.

Dread rising despite the reassurance, Dean takes the seat and wraps his hands around the mug. Breathes in the usually comforting scent of coffee prepared just the way he likes it, and tries not to catastrophize before he’s heard what Cas is going to say.

“As I was just telling Sam, I spoke with Jack last night after you went to bed.”

Dean’s gut twists, suddenly certain that Jack has told him in excruciating detail how awful things had been when they first brought him home. How angry Dean was.

I told Jack I’d kill him, and I meant it, Dean thinks. And now Cas is gonna say he’s done with me.

His eyes burn. His throat feels tight. Cas keeps speaking before he can think of a single damn thing to say in his own defense.

“He told me he’s afraid of his powers.”

Dean’s hands tingle with confused, unspent adrenaline. He loosens his grip on the mug.

“He is?”

“What happened with the security guard… he’s scared that something like that could happen again. He has all this power but no true understanding of how to safely wield it, and he’s terrified that he’ll harm another civilian. Even more so that he’ll hurt one of us, or inadvertently set off some magical weapon here in the bunker.”

“Again,” Sam adds.

Glancing at him, Dean frowns.

“Again?”

“Apparently the day before I was resurrected, he accidentally destroyed a curse box in the storage room while practicing the ‘pencil trick’ Sam had been teaching him. I checked the storage records and the room last night after he told me. The curse it had contained was very short-lived, and it has long since dissipated, but I’m sure you can understand how lucky it was that it didn’t affect Jack or anyone else.”

“So what do we do?” Dean asks, glancing between Cas and Sam, and Cas seems to steel himself.

“I’m going train him,” he says.

Dean slumps in relief.

“Fuck, okay, yeah, I figured you would. Is that what you—”

“Somewhere else.”

The words hit Dean like a kick to the chest, and he feels a little like he’s going to throw up. Swallowing roughly, he drops his gaze to the table.

“So you're leaving,” he says, and though he tries to mask it, he knows his hurt is as plain as if he’d said it aloud. “When?”

He’s not sure why he’s bothering to ask.

Keep reading on Ao3 after Sunday March 30 🌲Find more 2025 Pinefest previews here 🌲

[varpusvaras]

Bail left soon after bringing Fox to their rooms.

"I'll be back later", he promised before going. "I'm sure that at least Leia will be coming by before it, though."

The words at least were said a bit too much emphasis to be just simple words. Fox didn't feel the need to comment on it. He knew already what would be coming.

The trembling and overall numbness was receding slightly as he got to sit down. It would take a while for it to go away completely, but that had been his normal for almost twenty years by now. Fox had gotten more than used to just sitting and waiting.

Breha sat down next to him, and wordlessly took his hand to hers. Her fingers begun to draw slow circles first on the back of his hand, and then at his palm. It always helped somewhat with the stiffness of his muscles that would set in with everything else, and she was, by now, just as accustomed to it all as he was.

"Did you see him?" Fox asked. "Cody."

"I did", Breha answered. "I did not get to talk to him, which was, perhaps, for the best. He only found out that you are alive today by accident, as they were escaping the Death Star with Leia. She did not want to leave you behind on Alderaan, and it slipped from her in her alarm. I'm not at all sure what I could've possibly said to him, if anything at all."

Fox nodded. He did not fault Leia in the slightest. She must've been scared out of her mind in that situation, seeing the Death Star looming over Alderaan, and knowing what it was capable of. Fox had also known that there was always the possibility for the truth to come out, but perhaps during the years, the possibility had started to feel too distant to be truly real anymore. He could not come up with anything satisfactory for Breha to say, either, even with all the time to think.

Twenty years was a long time.

"You leave him to me", he said. "He's my brother."

That was still true, even after all the time had passed.

Breha nodded. She squeezed his hand gently.

Fox pushed Cody away from his thoughts for the time being.

"What about Luke?" He asked. "Did you have the chance to talk with him yet?"

"I did, though very briefly", Breha said. "He's rather popular at the moment, as you can imagine, but Leia managed to introduce us. He's a very sweet boy."

She was quiet for a brief moment, contemplating her words.

"He looks very much like his father", she said. "But he has Padmé's smile."

"That's good", Fox said. "Things were always a bit better every time Senator Amidala smiled."

It was strange, all of it. Luke had been another thing that had remained a possibility for so long, simultaneously so far away but so incredibly close. He and Leia had been separated from each other before they had even got to know they had a sibling, but some things were truly impossible to ever truly be separated. Luke was Leia's brother. Always had been, always would be, no matter the distance between them.

Fox had hoped that the moment they met each other would've marked the beginnings of a different world, one that even he had never got to witness during his life.

Well, perhaps, this really was it.

They fell into comfortable silence then, with Breha massaging Fox's hand, and Fox trying his best to get everything he could out of the quiet moment they were having, before everything would get moving again. Leia was going to be here any moment. He would've have to talk to Cody and unpack everything. They would have to leave the base, now that the Empire knew where they were, and that would have to happen sooner than later.

So, for now, Fox simply breathed. He leaned back against the wall and let his eyes wander around the room. It wasn't anything big, just another room that was very clearly still used to storage some items, even though it was meant to be sleeping quarters for two people high on the command chain. Leia and Bail were rarely at the base at the same time, and Fox could see that they had divided the room neatly in half for both of their items, so the other could effortlessly use the room while the other was not there.

There was a flower growing on the desk, one that Fox knew was from the Palace's gardens. A small piece of Alderaan to have, when they were not at home.

Fox felt suddenly a bit ill at the thought of that one single flower being the only piece of Alderaan left. He pushed the thought away the best he could. Alderaan was still there. They were all still alive.

They had survived.

It was at that moment when the door flew open, and Leia ran in.

She stopped in the middle of the room, just for a second, to catch her breath and for her eyes to lock onto Fox, and then she was crossing the rest of the distance and collapsing on Fox's arms.

Fox was still rather numb and stiff, and the trembling had not yet completely ceased, but there wasn't going to be a moment in his life where he would not hold her when she so wanted.

Leia buried her face onto his shirt. She was breathing deeply, in a way that Fox recognised meant that she was doing her best not to cry.

"Leia." Fox stroked her shoulder, where his arm was wrapped around her upper body. "Leili'ika. Let me look at you?"

He gave Leia a moment to gather herself. There were still unshed tears in her eyes when she finally did lift her head to face him. Her hair was falling out of where it had been tied up, and despite all of the relief and the high of the victory that were present on her face, she looked exhausted.

Fox held her a little tighter. She was so small, compared to him, even smaller than Breha. Only nineteen years old, and she had saved them all.

One strand of her hair was falling over her eye. Fox raised his hands to push it back, and to then take her face in them.

"My brave girl", he said. Leia smiled then, wide and bright, though it was preceded by a slight sniffle.

"Would've been easier to be brave, if I hadn't had to worry about you", she said, her voice airy with held-back laughter, the accusation falling just a little bit flat because of it.

"I know", Fox said anyway. "I'm sorry. You did it all, still. I couldn't be more proud of you."

He leaned his head forward, and Leia immediately did the same, letting her forehead rest against his, her hands still grasping onto the fabric of his shirt a bit too tightly. Fox did not feel the need to say anything. If she needed the simple comfort, he would always give it to her.

"Have mama and papa told you yet?" She asked after a moment. "That your brothers are here?"

"They did", Fox said. "Cody helped you escape, right?"

"He did", Leia said. "He's just as you always described him as. He has...he has missed you, I think."

"I have certainly missed him", Fox said, though he knew that he had had the privilege of doing so without all of the grief.

"I didn't tell him that you're here, yet", Leia said. "I wanted to see you first."

She leaned slightly back then, her eyes averting his.

"I just", she swallowed between her words. "I was so scared, Buir."

"I know", Fox said. "I was too."

Yet, they had all made it to the other side of it all.

That had to mean something.