#technologies voicemail

[comedicjunebreadpan]

My favorite moment in The Suckening is when Shilo and Arthur are searching for Deacon, and they know absolute dick about phones and how they work.

Plus, the only person who does know how phones work is currently incapacitated and being carted around by a medieval knight through the streets of Los Angeles.

[slowlystickynut]

THIS FREAK IS BACK! SOMEONE CALL THE CLERGY! SORRY I HAVEN'T BEEN ACTIVE. ON THIS WEBSITE. I HAVE BEEN LIVING IT UP IN MIAMI. I WILL POST MORE ONCE I AM BACK FROM MY AWESOME MULTI-MONTH VACATION WHERE THERE IS NO INTERNET. THAT'S RIGHT. I'M IN THE SWAMP. WITH NO TECHNOLOGY. BE BACK IN A JIFFY, TUMBLIANS!!! LOVE, SLOWLYSTICKYNUT

[cosmicallymundane]

i actually wanted a newton pulsifer theme, since i relate to him the most, but come to find out i cant find ANY good icons for him

[blueberrymocha]

texting them

gon

✰ he didn’t grow up with much technology

✰ and he def did not have a phone

✰ so since he isn’t in the habit of using it often, your messages are all on delivered

✰ he also prefers to live in the moment instead of checking his phone all the time

✰ unfortunately for you that means you’re better off calling the person he’s with if you need to reach him

✰ once you talk to him about it though, he’ll be sure to answer within a couple hours

✰ he’d save your contact as a pet name, personally i can see him using “sunshine” or “honey” for you

✰ you’d be pictureless until killua points it out to gon and explains that you can add pictures to someone’s contact

✰ but once he does learn he’ll use a cute coupley picture of you guys from one of your first dates

✰ would have trouble deciphering your abbreviations

“btw ur gna be back asap right?”

“huh.”

✰ its fine, he prefers to call (loves to hear your voice) anyways

killua

✰ y’all would be so mischievous together

✰ prank calls as a weekly ritual

✰ you’re mostly safe from them but don’t think he’ll never do it to you

✰ probably won’t text you first but always responds within the minute

✰ would only call if he’s checking up on you, like when you’re sick or he’s on an adventure

✰ will use the most abysmal, disrespectful picture he has of you

✰ your name on his phone is either an inside joke or an insult like “sleeping ugly 🧚‍♀️” (he’s out for blood omg you overslept once)

✰ i just know alluka is confused af

✰ he’ll change it to something else whenever you see it, which you will eventually

“y/n can you check my phone?”

“sure! babe why is my name ‘dumbass’ heart emoji, wizard emoji?”

kurapika

✰ you can see this one from a mile away…

✰ his phone always got that silent mode + dnd + texts muted combo

✰ he does all that but would fully expect you to pick up if he called you

✰ speaking of which, he would call probably daily if either of you were away

✰ never forgets an “i love you” “be safe” “see you soon” etc

✰ if something happened, would want you to know that

✰ you guys would fall asleep on calls

✰ but mostly him

✰ your contact might just be your name for a while

✰ but i could also see him using something tame like “love” or “sweetheart”

✰ hes also the type to leave you on read

✰ especially if you’re asking when he’ll be back or how his mission is going

✰ generally just keeps his work separate from home unless he needs to vent or it’s extremely relevant to you

leorio

✰ wishes he could talk more often

✰ school just keeps him really busy

✰ will be upfront with you if he needs time to study, make dinner, or anything of that nature

✰ you’d get in the habit of leaving voicemails

✰ he listens to them all and leaves some for you too

✰ also good morning and good night texts, always

✰ your picture is whatever picture of you he finds the hottest tbh

✰ your name would be a pet name such as “shorty” or “beautiful”

✰ idk why but i feel like he’d misplace his phone often

✰ so if he doesn’t respond by the end of the day, you’ll probably get a call from his roommate’s phone saying how he lost his own

hisoka

✰ lets it ring out and then calls back a minute later

✰ “oh did you need something?”

✰ this man can’t stop playing games, the call cuts off halfway through what you’re saying

✰ then he calls back again acting like it was the wi-fi

✰ don’t worry——that’s only like a quarter of the time

✰ depending on his mood, he’ll be mostly serious

✰ imagine the look on his face when he realizes you’re calling because you’re in the hospital or smth

✰ yeah so he’s better at responding now!

✰ your contact picture is gonna be from the most stalker angle

✰ like it’s just you sleeping

✰ you found that a little odd but maybe your clown just wants to capture those memories

✰ …while you’re walking home on the opposite sidewalk

✰ if you’re in a longer, serious relationship, your name is something romantic like “my dove” but it’ll take a while to get there

illumi

✰ you’d be so surprised to find that he loves to call

✰ he travels a lot as an assassin, so he needs something to do

✰ would always text you formally it’s scary

“have you arrived at the manor yet, y/n? be sure to notify me immediately once you do.”

✰ he’s giving you customer service type responses

✰ you’ll also get updates about his missions

“i’ve just finished killing the target, expect to see me home in four days”

✰ the contact is just your name and if you convince him, he’ll add a picture of your choice

chrollo

✰ has like six phones

✰ if you didn’t know he was the leader of a gang you might‘ve thought he was cheating

✰ you also have the numbers of most of the spiders

✰ so if he ever has to disappear (like after yorknew) they’ll be sure to let you know what’s going on

✰ he’ll text you a few times a day if he’s able to

✰ would ask about your day and remind you to take care of yourself

✰ the conversations usually focus on you, while he listens or prompts you

✰ like kurapika, doesn’t want to involve you in troupe business so it’s very rare for him to even mention them

✰ he doubts you even want to hear about how he robbed an old man today, or killed a woman who didn’t hand over a jewel

✰ on his top secret personal phone, he’ll give you a contact photo with both of you in it

✰ your name would be a classy pet name, maybe “princess” or “beloved”

[chdarling]

Friends, we are there. We are at that point. ICE is abducting people off the streets and sending them to concentration camps in El Salvador. That is happening. Trump has said that he’d “love” to send the “homegrowns” to these prisons and told the president of El Salvador to build 5 more. Kilmar Abrego Garcia was kidnapped due to an "administrative error" and the Republican regime is refusing to bring him home, even though the Supreme Court ruled 9-0 that they must. A US citizen from Georgia was arrested in Florida for being an "unauthorized alien" and they refused to release him, even as his mother waved his birth certificate in their faces. (I just learned while making this post that he has now been released and reunited with his family, thank fucking god.) A hundred other horrors have happened that we don't even know about.

No one is coming to save us. We have to save us.

Please, please, please find a (peaceful!) protest this Saturday and attend if you are able. There are also protests planned for May 1. And, frankly, there should be protests every single day, but we have to build momentum and community for that. So let's start.

If you can’t attend a protest, please consider taking another form of action. I was depressed on the train this morning and brainstormed a very incomplete and unofficial list of Things You Can Do:

Print posters advertising the protests and put them up around your neighborhood, your school, your apartment mail room, public restrooms, anywhere.

Spread the word on social media, yes, but also text your family and friends and ask if they know about the 4/19 and 5/1 protests. This date is not getting the same publicity as 4/5 and people are reporting social media posts being suppressed. Direct communication is the most effective.

Call your representatives. The 5 Calls app makes it extremely easy, even if you have phone anxiety. If your reps, like mine, mostly have their voicemails shut down, email them instead. Resistbot makes it super simple. I know it feels like screaming into the void, but it does have an impact. And even if it turns out it doesn’t, it takes 2 minutes. Do it out of spite. Just do it.

Stop buying anything that’s not absolutely essential and start preparing yourself for a general strike. I don’t know that we will get enough of the population on board to do this, but it is our best hope, and each person that is prepared for it makes the reality of it happening a little more likely. If you can, aim to have food and supplies stocked for a few weeks. If you have the means, be extra prepared to help your neighbors. Talk to your friends about this. Start strategizing.

(Also, a note on that general strike website: I'm sharing it for info, but I know a lot of people don't want to sign their name to a strike card. I get it. You don't have to sign up for anything to get prepared for a strike. You don't have to sign up for anything to stop giving your money to this economy. You don't have to sign up for anything to strike, when the day comes. You don't even have to tell anyone. You can just do it.)

If you are financially able, donate to your local food pantry or mutual aid network. The Republican Regime is cutting funding to the food banks in advance of an economic crisis. We are only as strong as the most vulnerable among us. Help your neighbors! A general strike cannot happen without community solidarity. Start building that solidarity now.

Cancel any subscription you can. Especially Amazon. Fuck Amazon. And Target, and Walmart.

If you have to buy something, buy local. Support your community as much as possible. And hey, it's almost farmers market season, hell yeah!

Mask up!!! Do not throw disabled people under the bus in this movement. Wear a mask. It protects the most vulnerable among us, and it protects you. Not just from disease, but also facial recognition technology. And, you know, RFK Jr.

Stay alive. I am sure I’m not the only one who has plunged to new depths of despair over the past few months. Find something to cling to, even if it’s only spite (some days, that’s all I have). Please stay alive. We need you.

DO NOT GIVE INTO THE FEAR OF BEING CRINGE. Taking action in the face of fascism is cool as fuck and anyone who tells you otherwise is trapped in a prison of their own making and they will bring us all down. Do not get distracted by moral purity tests. Do not be afraid, do not be embarrassed. BE CRINGE, BE FREE.

And finally, most importantly, do not let perfect be the enemy of good. We can all only do the best we can under this oppressive capitalist hellscape we’re forced to endure. We're all struggling, we're all tired, we're all scared. Do not guilt yourself into despair and apathy if you have to buy groceries at a big box store or if you can't take off work for a protest because you'll lose your job/house/healthcare. This is the system. This is how it's designed. The important thing is to try. If you can't do one thing, find something else you can do. Little acts add up, and we are all in this together.* As my dad likes to remind me, no one can do everything, but everyone can do something.

Let's do something. <3

*yes I did start humming high school musical here

[bucktommypositivityproject]

This week's episode impacted a lot of viewers. For many, it was triggering, bringing up memories of abuse. Alternatively, some people who have never had to deal with abuse and therefore don't understand it, have minimized other's feelings. This post is not to get into discourse, but to spread awareness. I'm adding the hotline for domestic violence in the US, please feel free to add information and resources for your country! Under the cut will be information on understanding and recognizing signs of abuse. I will also add sources for where I got the information.

It's important to remember that abuse comes in many forms, not just physical. Recognize the signs. Take care of yourselves ❤️

US National Domestic Violence Hotline: 800-799-7233 or text BEGIN to 88788

Below are types of abuse, and some signs to look out for. Please note, information had been copied directly from websites (listed below) I've reduced each section to 7-9 bullet points, these are not all the signs. Please visit the websites for more information.

Physical Abuse

Pull your hair or punch, slap, kick, bite, choke, or smother you.

Use weapons against you, including firearms, knives, bats, or mace.

Prevent you from contacting emergency services, including medical attention or law enforcement.

Harm your children or pets.

Drive recklessly or dangerously with you in the car or abandon you in unfamiliar places.

Trapping you in your home or preventing you from leaving.

Throw objects at you.

Emotional Abuse

Calling you names, insulting you, or constantly criticizing you.

Isolating you from family, friends, or other people in your life because it makes someone easier to control.

Monitoring your activities with or without your knowledge.

Gaslighting you by pretending not to understand or refusing to listen to you; questioning your recollection of facts, events, or sources; trivializing your needs or feelings; or denying previous statements or promises.

Threatening you, your children, your family, or your pets.

Damaging your belongings, including throwing objects, punching walls, kicking doors, etc.

Blaming you for their abusive behaviors.

When you have an unresolved argument, your abuser will offer you a gift and expect all to be forgiven and forgotten. They will often be insulted if it is not accepted.

Sexual Abuse

Insult you in sexual ways or call you explicit names.

Force or manipulate you into having sex or performing sexual acts, especially when you’re sick, tired, or physically injured from their abuse.

Strangle you or restrain you during sex without your consent.

Hold you down during sex without your consent.

Hurt you with weapons or objects during sex.

Involve other people in your sexual activities against your will.

Force you to watch or make pornography.

Stalking

Showing up at your home or workplace unannounced or uninvited.

Sending you unwanted texts, messages, letters, emails, or voicemails.

Calling you and hanging up repeatedly or making unwanted phone calls to you, your employer, a professor, or a loved one.

Using social media or technology to track your activities.

Manipulating other people to investigate your life, including using someone else’s social media account to look at your profile or befriending your friends in order to get information about you.

Waiting around at places you spend time.

Damaging your home, car, or other property.

All information above came from this website and this one. Please visit the sites for a full list of types of abuse, and all the signs. More types of abuse include: financial, digital, sexual coercion, reproductive coercion, & spiritual abuse.

Abuse can happen between partners/relatives/siblings/coworkers/friends. Here are signs you may be in an abusive friendship (again, not the full list. Visit the website below for all the signs):

They give you the silent treatment.

Lie about you.

Gaslight you.

Repeatedly dismiss your concerns.

Have double standards for behavior.

Insult you.

Threaten you (physically, or to get you in trouble, or threaten to end friendship).

Never take responsibility.

Isolate you.

Physically hurt you.

more info here

Recognize the signs of child abuse

Bullying at work

sibling violence

Remember, you don't have to check all the boxes to be in an abusive situation. One bullet point is too many.

[dumbkiri]

A FEAST FOR BIRDS

𝐉𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐓𝐨𝐝𝐝 𝐱 𝐅! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

When Jason Todd comes back to earth and faces off with his vigilante family along with villains, he settles his problems as much as he could. He reunited with his family, but still kicked villain ass. As the holidays approach, Jason is struck with a range of emotions. An unexpected visitor makes her way in Wayne manor with a child in her arms. Apparently, the child belongs to him.

[ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP]

“I am moving back into Gotham due to some company issues. I wanted to see if Jay can stay at your place for a bit? Maybe spend Thanksgiving with you and the boys? He would love to see his uncles and of course, his grandfathers. It would mean a lot to us if you can do this. If not, I can work around the company with him by my side. One day he will inherit what my father built, and I might as well get him to see his own building. Anyways, please let me know what you think. We miss you and the family a lot, see you soon Bruce.” 

Dick leaned back into his chair and listened to the recent voicemail [Name] left for Bruce. Her voice rang with some truth while it felt like she was hiding something. He fiddled around with one of Batman’s batarangs thinking about the woman. They haven’t seen her or Jay in two years. He had to have missed something in her voice message. He knows it. 

Dick leaned forward and pressed play on the voicemail, listening to it for the fifth time this afternoon. 

“I am moving back into Gotham due to some company issues.”

 This part alone made no sense to him. If his memory serves him right, Bruce and [Name] came to an agreement that he would watch over the [L.Name] Industry allowing her to live her life with Jay. Bruce never mentioned any “company issues” that she brought up in the call. Then again Bruce has Lucius to run Wayne Enterprise, so maybe Bruce neglected her company due to his commitment to being Batman. Although, that still made no sense because [F.Name] and Bruce had a great partnership. 

[Name]’s dad knew who Bruce truly was in the night thus granting Lucius to work very closely with one another. [F.Name] would create technology that Lucius would then make into gadgets for Batman. After [F.Name] passed away, the plans he had were burned to make sure they didn’t get into the wrong hands. Bruce feared to keep the works [F.Name] worked endlessly on and made sure to get rid of everything he could in his archives. 

“Maybe spend Thanksgiving with you and the boys?”

Thanksgiving…that is tomorrow!

“Bruce! Alfred! ” Dick shot up from his chair when the realization hit him. He dressed out of his uniform and into his casual clothing as quickly as he could. Whenever [Name] did drop Jay off for the holidays, she did it the day before so he could spend more time with them. 

A million worries were hurdled at his body thinking back to another Wayne that was present in the house. “Jason, if you can hear me from down here!” Dick huffed up the stairs, “Let’s go out for some lunch! I am so hungry!” Was it a lame excuse for his brother-in-arms, yes. But if he had a chance to spare Jason from seeing [Name], he would do it in a heartbeat. Jason doesn’t know he has a kid, let alone a kid with his ex-girlfriend. 

When Bruce described the relationship between Jason and [Name], he went on about true love. A happiness he didn’t think would surround him when he watched Jason smile at [Name]. The teasing he would do to the both of them like a real parent. Bruce watched them create a beautiful bond at a young age. 

Then when Jason died, Bruce watched the heartbreak crush [Name]’s heart. Dick remembers the conversation between him and Bruce when the news of her pregnancy hit him like a truck. 

..

“She looked at me like I killed him.” 

“Bruce, you can’t think like that. [Name] is just hurting, you said so many times. They were meant to be together.” 

“She told me that she’s pregnant.” 

“W-what? She’s only 16, Jason really- Fuck, what do we do now? We have to support her, you did tell her that right?” 

“Of course, I did. She accepted my help and she told me that she wants us to get to know the child. That she still wants to be a part of our family. So I told her that I will send $4000 to her account every month for any expenses she has. She didn’t accept any more and I didn’t agree to any less. I don’t feel right though.” 

“What do you mean by that?” 

“I mean that we get to live and see the child Jason made with [Name]. We get the luxury of knowing his child while he rots in the ground. If he knew, do you think he would have left? If [Name] got to him before the fake letter, would he have stayed?”

“Maybe, but at least we can do right by him and support his family. That’s all we can do for him now. It’s okay to cry, Bruce. Loss shouldn’t be associated with shame.”

..

He reached the top of the stairs and cringed at the sound of the doorbell ringing throughout the mansion. 

As casually as he could, Dick entered the living room and heard the echo of two voices at the entrance of Wayne Manor. He sneaked around the couches and furniture thinking someone at the door would catch him from so far away. 

“Who are you hiding from?” 

Dick panicked and spun around to see Jason on the couch reading a book. He heard Alfred welcome [Name] into the manor and he knew the old man would lead her to them. With fast thinking, Dick ran over to Jason and shoved his sunglasses onto his face, “Quick! Wear these and this!” Then he stuffed a black face mask into Jason’s book. 

“Dick, what-” 

“Jason, please!” Dick pleaded and helped put the sunglasses on while Jason reluctantly put the face mask on. Jason wanted to ask more until Alfred walked in with a woman and a child in her arms. Swiftly, Dick pulled Jason’s red hoodie over his head and turned around to greet the visitors. 

“[Name], it’s so nice to see you!” Dick shouted and enunciated her name to get it through Jason’s thick skull. He walked over to the woman and gave her a hug mindful of the sleeping child in her arms…wait, what? Jason squinted behind the sunglasses and observed the child some more which Dick fawned over like some lovesick idiot. 

“Wow, he’s grown so much,” Dick awed at the sight of the child and gently touched the unruly black hair that reminded him so much of the Wayne boys. 

“I’m sorry for the apparent unexpected visit, I did leave a voicemail for Bruce,” [Name] huffed and shifted her child more comfortably in her arms to which Dick reached his arms out to her. Without hesitation, [Name] smiled gratefully and handed her kid over to Dick. She watched Dick whisper to her sleeping son and told him, “We’ve decided to do a road trip instead of flying. Jay insisted that he wanted to see the “world”, but there’s only so much adventure he can handle. He’s going to wake up super excited to see his favorite uncle.” 

Dick’s mind blew up as his eyes looked from Jay to [Name] who giggled at his reaction. “You’re kidding, he said that? I’m his favorite uncle?” 

Well that confirmed to Jason that the kid is definitely not Dick’s. Honestly he’d be pissed if Dick had a child with his ex-girlfriend. There were so many questions running through his head and he wanted to ask them. But the silent glare he got from Alfred in the corner of the room told him to stay put with not a word. 

“Yes, it’s always been you, Dick,” [Name] unwrapped her scarf from her neck and shoulders. Finally her eyes spotted the giant man sitting on the couch adjacent to where her family was at. She observed him quietly and looked down at the book in his gloved hands. Dick nor Alfred introduced the stranger to her, so she took it upon herself to be polite. 

“Hello,” She stepped around Dick and reached her hand out with a courteous smile, “My name is [Name] [L.Name].”

Jason closed his book and stood up from the couch. He towered over her and flashbacks of their time together brought longing in his chest. He remembered everything about her from her smile, to her eyes, to her personality. She hadn’t changed one bit. He reached his hand out and shook hers. His tongue twisted and more questions slammed into him. 

“This is my friend, Lazlo,” Dick chimed nervously, internally cringing at the fake name he gave Jason. 

This piqued [Name]’s interest and she giggled, “Lazlo, that’s a cool name. Can he hear me or speak to me?” She asked, releasing Jason’s hand and quietly whispered the last part over her shoulder to her friend. 

Dick shook his head and said, “He’s actually a mute. Anyways what brings you here to Gotham. Don’t say holiday cheer either.” He walked between Jason and [Name] and took a seat next to Jason's closed book. Meanwhile Alfred dismissed himself knowing that Jason will not be able to say a word. 

Jason sat back in his seat while [Name] sat on the couch across from them. She visibly relaxed in comfort and sighed tiredly, “My mother wants to force a marriage onto me and like some teenager, I ran away. Plus there are some things I have to do at the company. I wanted to see if you guys are okay with babysitting Jay while I dust the old mansion down the street. Haven’t been there in years.”

She laughed and Dick joined her. He shifted Jay into his lap and said, “Of course, we would be happy to take care of the little one. I, for one, missed him a lot. Is the marriage the reason why we haven’t seen either of you? It seems like a lot.” 

[Name] straightened out her back and looked away from his bright blue eyes. Her smile didn’t reach her eyes as she explained a bit more, “Yes, it’s a reason. The marriage is with a business partner. He’s a bit older than me and has spoken about having a family with me. My mother is ecstatic about more grandchildren, but I am not. There is only one person I truly love and that is Jay’s father. I cannot imagine having children with someone else when Jason is still fresh on my mind. And he gave me a brilliant child to cherish in his memory.” 

Dick could see Jason tense up at the revelation and saw from the corner of his eyes Jason look at Jay sleeping in his arms. The atmosphere grew heavier by the second and he had to do something. Something to appease Jason’s longing. 

“Do you think Lazlo can hold Jay? He knew Jason before his death and-” 

“Of course!” [Name] gestured to Jason, with a kind smile on her face, “I’m sorry for your loss, Lazlo. But I’m going to tell you now, Jay looks exactly like his father.” She giggled and Dick looked at Jason with expecting eyes. 

Slowly, Jason sat up and hesitantly opened his arms up. He wasn’t ready to hold his child while keeping his emotions bottled up. “You can do this, Lazlo,” Dick’s voice reassured him, “He won’t break in your arms.” 

[Name] laughed from her spot and pointed at Dick, “Hey, you were afraid to hold him the first time too!” 

Dick shrugged and argued back, “He was a lot smaller back then.” Then he scooted closer to Jason making the transfer a lot easier for the both of them. In his sleep, Jay immediately snuggled up against Jason’s chest surprising the boy’s mother. 

“Oh wow,” [Name] awed at the sight, “He normally doesn’t do that. Jay only snuggles into me, I’m kinda jealous he’s doing it with someone else.” She gave Jason a fake pout with a teasing tone in her gentle voice. But all he could focus on was the peaceful look on the child’s face. 

This boy is his son. 

Jason pulled Jay closer to his body as his chin touched the crown of the boy’s head. Then he felt a lone tear slide down his cheek. Thankfully he wore a face mask and sunglasses to hide his joy. [Name] spoke the truth when she said Jay looked like him. Jay is his mini-me. 

“So how many instruments can he play now?” Dick asked. 

“He only plays the piano, Dick,” [Name] rolled her eyes playfully, “but he can speak three languages. Sign language being one of them.”

Sign language? Jason thought and picked his head up with interest. He recalls that they learned sign language for fun to talk behind her mother’s back. 

“That’s right, I remember you teaching him. Although, I think he flipped me off once.” 

“Don’t say that!” [Name] laughed. 

“I’m being serious!” Dick shouted back with a smirk on his face. 

Jason leaned back into the couch while Jay fit perfectly in his arms. The boy laid on his chest with his legs being held in a gentle, but protective grip. Jay’s head laid onto his shoulder and Jason could hear the soft breaths that left the boy’s lungs. Soon, the voices of [Name] and Dick dissipated and the breathing of his son lulled him to sleep. 

Jason would do anything to keep [Name] and Jay to himself. Even if that means revealing himself to them in the near future. For now, he’s comfortable with blissful ignorance. 

……

“Mama, can I stay in Mister Lazlo’s arms a bit longer?” 

A tiny voice woke Jason from his sleep and he felt small hands clenching the sides of his hoodie. He blinked his weary eyes open and saw the living room in a dark tint. He forgot he wore sunglasses to hide his face along with the face mask. 

“Jay, it’s time for dinner. You and Mister Lazlo have slept long enough. You both need to eat. And you don’t want Grandpa or your uncles waiting for long do you?” 

“But he feels safe and warm, mama.” Jay mumbled and Jason slowly rose up from the couch, steadying a startled Jay in his hold. He looked down at the child with a funny bedhead and couldn’t help but chuckle at the surprised look on the boy’s face. 

[Name] fixed her son’s hair and looked at him lovingly, “See, Mister Lazlo is ready to eat too. Perhaps you can ask if he wants to sit next to you for dinner?” She looked at her son expectantly and the little boy nodded his head. He raised his arms up and sighed to Jason, 

“Mister Lazlo, would you sit next to me, fuck you.”

The ending part took Jason and [Name] completely off guard and the mother reacted quickly pushing her son’s hands down to his sides. With a scolding shout, she said, “JJ, where in the world did you learn that?” She gave Jay a hard look and the little boy obviously seemed confused. 

“What do you mean, mama? I asked him nicely.” Jay tilted his head to the side in a questioning manner. 

“That last sign, isn’t really- It’s a bad word, JJ!” [Name] huffed and softened her look, “Who taught you that and what did they say it meant?” 

What Jay answered made sense to Jason, “Uncle Damian said that it meant ‘please’. He said to only use it for them and not you though.”

“So Dick was right when he mentioned you flipped him off,” She rolled her eyes then focused back on her son, “Please, don’t use that anymore, it’s really rude. Use the sign for me as please from now on, understood?” 

Jay nodded his head obediently then looked at Jason with bright silver-blue eyes, “Understood, mama. Sorry Mister Lazlo.” 

Jason chuckled and shook his head, signing, “It’s okay, you did great. And yes, I would like to sit by you for dinner. As long as you give me any leftovers you have.” 

Jay giggled and jumped up signing back, “It’s a deal!” The little boy ran off towards the direction of the kitchen and the adults were left on their own. 

“He gets excited to meet new people,” [Name] spoke softly, her eyes warming up talking about her son. “JJ has a heart of gold and he loves everyone he meets like his own family. Especially the Waynes. When his father passed away, I panicked because he wouldn’t have a father figure to be his mentor. Yet Bruce proved me wrong. JJ instantly grew fond of his grandpa and uncles. They all became his father figure, some better than others in different aspects. Speaking of which, I might have to wrestle Damian for teaching Jay that obscene gesture.” 

[Name] laughed at the end and looked at Jason for some approval. He quickly signed to her, “We can jump him together. The demon spawn won’t know what will hit him.”

Just like her son, she smiled and said, “It’s a deal.”

[hoiststowline]

radio silence [w/ hoist, perceptor, & jazz]

Hoist is someone who likely has an abundance of free time, boredom stuck to him like an uncleanable glue. messaging and calls with you are something he looks forward to, entranced by your retelling of the day's events, overeager to hear about what he was up to. he can’t help himself, able to divulge himself when it comes to taking breaks from his daily tasks, always looking for your company if available. so accustomed to your voice that if time passes him by where he’s expecting a call from you, he’s definitely questioning it in the back of his mind. Hoist likely wouldn’t gather the courage to be so forward at first, persuading himself that you hadn’t called because something came up and not because something was amiss. you have things you need to accomplish for the day, getting tied up with another assignment is not anything to get worked up over. 

it’s later the same evening that Hoist breaks the self-restraint, fumbling to give you a call that rings on and on, longer than he’s ever experienced. it dips into your voicemail, to which the green mech offers a supportive and cheerful message, hoping everything is well. toying with the idea the entire time, he eventually concludes the message with an: “I’ve missed you,”. it’s a step outside his comfort zone, saying something so brave over the phone and not in person, but he means it. Hoist misses you so much, and can’t help but fret well into the night that something must be very, very wrong. you’ve never disappeared this long on him before, and while you have situations every now and then where you’re unavailable, you always give him a heads up. being absent for this long raises some distress, insatiable until he hears your voice or sees your face. [preference on the latter].

he steps away from base early the next morning to seek you out. even if he drives past your work to see that your car has moved there, or hopes to catch a glimpse of you on your way out the door. Hoist only finds relief when you call him, rambling apologies over and over. you’re fine, and safe. he doesn’t care the reason for your nonappearance, obviously unless you are hurt or having a problem. you don’t have to explain yourself, but Hoist also can’t keep his composure rightened upon your reunion. his digits find your form and stay there, cradling you to his face as he hums in delight, ecstatic to have you here. he’d likely never tell you just how restless he was, but it’s safe to say all is well in his optics now. 

while Perceptor is known to disappear at times, he’s definitely made better strides to be more vocal and transparent when he is able to do so with you. he enjoys your company, looks for it even when he has the chance to steal you away for a few hours of privacy. however, an unexpected quiet from you is another story, something that sets off alarms in his processor very early on. even when you don’t pick up his call the first time, Perceptor’s brow raises, an audible hum of confusion stumbling forth. he doesn’t bank on you being always available on his schedule, but he’s also well aware that he hasn’t heard from you in a reasonable time frame per your character. when things don’t add up in his mind, he’s pretty quick to set out to find you, asking in passing if anyone has seen you, or knows of your whereabouts. 

while he isn’t the most fondest of communication via technology, he respects its functionality and facility. in instances where he’s away for quite a while, he’s come to anticipate and appreciate your encouraging messages and thoughtful words. Perceptor is well aware that you’ve got him wound around your finger, but he can’t help himself to concede to such small requests you propose every now and then, mostly in his favor regardless. you miss him, and you want to see him. he feels the same, so who is he to tell you no, not now? somewhere along the line, he’s found himself talking to an empty chair, thinking you’re there and seeking your advice but you are attending to your own responsibilities, away. 

Perceptor isn’t going to stop until you’re found, so he does try you a handful more times whilst searching for you. he’d claim he isn’t overly worried, not initially, but his hastened pace gives him away. his only reassurance is perhaps things ran late at work/class, or you had a change of plans that didn’t stick to your schedule. that’s totally fine with him, but if it’s going onto the next day, and still nothing from you? Perceptor is entirely stumped and overly troubled by your unusual behavior. ultimately, upon finding you and discovering the reason for your silence, a sigh of relief can be witnessed in his frame. one that starts in his shoulders, able to visibly see them relax beside a mumble of: “I am so glad you’re alright,”. all he could ever ask is that you’re happy and healthy, so the ease can’t help but flood him when he takes in that you’re well. 

“Radio one to y/n, anybody home?” Jazz isn’t one to fret about impromptu silence on your end, sympathetic to the fact you have daily tasks to be completed that don’t align with his spare time to chat. ever the tease, he’s also very likely to assume you’re being playful or hard to get, sometimes not answering right away or pretending as if he had the wrong number. no, he most definitely has the right number, but plays along if only to hear your fits of giggles. so the first stretch of time with silence from you isn’t insane, and Jazz isn’t all riled up over it until he tries you again later on. then again, knowing full well you are long out of work/class [another mech who has your schedule committed to memory], and you always give him a call afterward. sure, sometimes he can’t be there to pick you up, but he appreciates the check-in more than you understand. you’re safe, and perhaps he can steal some more of your time before being pulled away to responsibilities. 

after the third or fourth try, Jazz leaves a handful of messages. they start a little jokingly, “You’re gonna get it when you finally pick up,” then fall to a little more desperate, “Where did you go? Are you alright?” and eventually settle on something twinged with guilt. “What, did I do somethin’ wrong? Ya mad at me?” you are very important to him, and the grand unknown when he can’t get ahold of you in the way he is so accustomed to, he’s on the move. favors are cashed in if he’s supposed to be elsewhere, and at this point nothing could stop him from heading in the direction of your home. Jazz is also calling you the whole way there as well, ignoring the pit in his stomach that only winds tighter at each going to voicemail, his garbled thoughts filling your inbox and then some. 

his composure remains but it’s a struggle to keep it up when so much worry consumes him. whatever the situation may be, the reason you were away from your phone for a while, he doesn’t need to know. your apologies are not required, all Jazz cares about is that you’re alright, guilty of holding you a little tighter and closer in the aftermath. always gentle, but there’s a protectiveness that brims in him in your regard, and if anything happened to you and he wasted precious time? it’s an unforgivable action in his optics, knowing next time to just head straight to the scene of the crime, either your place or work/class. “Jazz?” you pull back, fingers skating under his chin, wholly in a consoling and gentle manner. “Why did I just get a notification that my voicemail is full?” 

[a/n: many thanks for the suggestions for characters this time around, this was fun to write!! 🫶]

[lostbookmark]

MDNI 🔞

Main Masterlist here

Whispered Vows Masterlist here

Summary: You thought planning your wedding was going to be a magical memory. You didn't realize that it might make you second guess everything. 

Pairing: Fiancée Yoongi x Insecure F. Reader

Genre: Romance, Angst, Smut, Hurt-Comfort

Warnings: Explicit Sex, Toxic Family Dynamics, Arguments,  Sex Toys, Self Doubt, Over Thinking, Yoongi Overworking Himself, Reader Needs To Speak Up

Are you running late?

You texted Yoongi fifteen minutes ago, and the message still appeared on your screen as delivered. Not read but delivered. You looked up and down the street in front of the jewelry store, hoping to see any sign of him walking in your direction, but you had no luck. You had a plan. You were going to meet him out front of the store before you went inside to look at rings after driving separately. You had wanted to go to a shoe store first since you weren't having any luck finding matching shoes for your wedding dress that you liked online. He had agreed. He agreed to meet you at the designated time , but where was he? He had made the appointment. He chose the day and the time. He chose the jewelry store. He actually did all the work for this. 

You laugh bitterly to yourself as you look at your phone once again. He had told you a few days ago that some meetings that he had had that needed to be rearranged since Darling media wanted to meet sooner. You just know that it is exactly what happened. He's at work. He's at work, and he can't be bothered to check his phone that is usually glued to his hand 24/7. 

You lift the phone to ear after you press the green call button. It goes to voicemail after several rings. You huff and hang up the phone, foregoing a voicemail. It probably wouldn't matter if you left one anyway. Your mother was right. You think as you stare at the picture of you and him on your phone's home screen. You were both smiling. Your eyes shone with love and happiness. Work will always be more important to him. He will never put you first above some stupid album and that damn studio. He promised that he wouldn't miss this. Promised!

You squeeze your phone tightly in your hand. He had promised you that he was going to do better and he did….for a few days. He actually sat down with you and came up with party favors for your wedding guest. Personalized macarons with your initials stamped on them in honor of your love for Paris. He paid very close attention when the baker went over all the flavor options. He chose an orange creamsicle flavor in the end. 

He was even in bed with you at night. You had to grow accustomed to sharing a bed again. His light snores that filled the once quiet air had kept you awake the first night. His arm that he kept slung over your waist made you sweat. You had to leave a window open the next night so you didn't wake up to another sweat soaked hairline. It was an adjustment but a happy one. You were just too stupid thinking it would last.

Yoongi?

You look at the time on your phone and chuck the horrendous piece of technology that's just pissing you off the more you look at it into your purse. He wasn't coming. You knew damn well that he wasn't coming. Turning, you walk to the door of the jewelry store and open it. It was up to you to pick out the rings that symbolize your love. Fuck this wedding, you think. Fuck this wedding and fuck Min Yoongi.

His studio was quiet and dark when you entered. The lights weren't on. His computer wasn't on. Obviously, he wasn't there. You set the lights to the dimmest setting and took a seat in his chair. You sigh as our eyes drift to the shelves that hold various pictures of the two of you. He had replaced a lot of his old memories with ones of you and him. Christmas at his parents in front of the tree, the two of you with Jisoo and Seungkwan on the basketball court at the park. He even had one with Jimin squished between you and Lisa, his arms thrown around the both of you. The three of you were laughing but you can't remember what was so funny. 

You rest your head against the back of his chair. Closing your eyes, your feet start to move, turning the chair slowly in a circle. You open your eyes and watch the room swirl around and around as your feet pick up pace just a little bit. The ring boxes were heavy in your jacket pocket. It made the material hang, and with every sway, the rings hit the plastic of the chair, creating a knocking sound. You circle around … knock …. again ….  knock… once more….knock.

You were overwhelmed when you saw all the sparkling jewels displayed in the pristine glass cases. You and Yoongi never discussed rings before. You had tried on six of them before finding one that complimented your engagement ring beautifully. At least, that was what the sales lady told you. The delicate white gold band with encrusted diamonds sat in its box next to Yoongi's, thumping away against the chair. You had no idea what he would like. He wore many necklaces and bracelets in different metals and colors but didn't know what he would prefer. Guessing on the ring size, you chose a black band with black diamonds circling the center of the band. You liked it, you thought it would look good on him.

You continued to circle around slowly. You didn’t even stop when his studio door opened. You see him look at you with an amused expression when you pass by. You, however, were not amused. Not even in the slightest. Your continuous spinning finally comes to an end when he stops the chair with his hand. He spins you around to face him. Giving you a kiss on the head, he takes his jacket off and smiles at you.

“What are you doing?” He asks. 

“Where were you?” You answer with your own question. 

“I had lunch with Joon. We wanted to go over everything before our meeting with Darling Media,” he answers. 

You sit straighter in the chair and reach into your jacket pocket. One by one, you grab the ring boxes and slam down on his desk with a loud thud. You don't say anything. He doesn't say anything. The quietness of the room was deafening. You don’t think you can even hear your own breathing. You can see his eyes zero in on the velvet boxes, but you can't tell what he is thinking. 

“No, that's tomorrow,” he whispers, breaking the silence. “I made the appointment for Thursday.”

“Today is Thursday,” you say loudly and stand up. “Yesterday was Wednesday,  tomorrow is Friday, and today is Thursday.” 

“No,” he says softly again. 

Yoongi reaches for his jacket and pulls his phone from his pocket. You can see his eyes widen when he realizes his mistake. He thumb punches in his password, and upon unlocking it, he opens your missed texts. Swearing to himself, he hangs his head in shame and defeat. 

“I'm,” he starts, but you cut him off.

“Sorry,” you say, finishing it for him. “You always seem to be sorry lately, and sorry doesn't mean anything to me anymore.”

“Y/N,” he says, your name cautiously like he was trying to calm you down. 

“No,” you say and shake your head. “I know I took responsibility for planning this stupid thing, but I can't do it anymore. I feel like I'm drowning, and you're just standing there letting it happen.”

“Y/N,” he says again, but you once more shake your head. 

“You jump in just enough to give some hope and then poof, you're gone once more,” you tell him. “You promised me that you would be there. I can't do this anymore.”

“Can't do what anymore?” He asks, slightly panicked.

“I don't know,” you say and put your hands on your head. Your thoughts are racing, and you can't seem to gather them. “I don't know anymore. I just want to go.”

“Go where?” he asks, trying to reach for you, but you back away from him.  

"Anywhere. I…I,” you stutter and look over his shoulder at the door. If you run quick enough, you might be able to reach it before he can stop you. “I just need to get away from you.”

You take off for the door and open it without any problems. You can hear Yoongi call out for you, but you ignore it and run for the stairs. You dared not to take the elevator. You didn't want to wait for it. You didn't want to give Yoongi the chance to catch up to you. One flight…two flights….finally the third, leading to the main lobby. You slow yourself down to a walk and act as normal as possible as you leave passing by the same people that you see every day doing their mundane tasks. Once your foot hits the gray cement outside your feet, take off again as you make your way to your car in a hurry. You can feel your heart start to slow down when you make it to your car. Jumping in, you take off as quickly as possible. You just needed to get away from him. 

Jisoo's guest bed was comfortable, but it was almost stifling hot as you lay completely hidden under the thick comforter. You didn't hesitate to drive right over to her apartment after your fight with Yoongi. It was one of the places where you felt the safest. Where you could be vulnerable. 

“I brought you orange juice,” she says, coming into the room. You can hear her place the glass down on the nightstand beside the bed. “What happened? I thought things were looking up this past week.”

“They were,” you say, uncovering your head. “I waited outside the jewelry store for him, and he never showed up. I went to his studio, and he had no idea that he had missed the appointment. OUR RINGS, JISOO! He couldn't be bothered to come and pick out our rings. My mom was right about him.” 

Jisoo crawls under the covers with you. She wraps her arms around your body and holds you tight. This is exactly why you love her so much. The comfort that she brings you, the warmness of her love. It was always pure.  You always wanted to be able to love like her.

“That was wrong of him,” she says, agreeing with you. “But…what do you mean your mom was right about him?”

“She told me that I would never come first over his work. Our future kids won't have a father because work is more important.” You admit.  

“And you believe her? Yoongi deserves a good ass kicking, but do you really think he wouldn't be there for your children?” She asks. “I don't believe that at all.” 

“I love him,” you say after a moment. “I really do love him but…”

“What if love isn't enough?” She supplies, and you nod your head, agreeing with her. 

Jisoo pulls you in closer, and you relax in her arms once more. She softly starts to hum a song that sounds familiar to you. You listen closely, but you can't put your finger on what exactly the tune is. You focus on her voice, on the vibration coming from her chest. You hope that it will lull you to sleep. A sleep so deep that it will erase the memories of today. Maybe when you wake up, everything will be just one big nightmare. The door bursting open made both you and Jisoo jump.

“DID YOU AND YOONGI BREAK UP?” Lisa yells as she jumps on the bed, landing on her knees, making the two of you bounce with the force of her body hitting the mattress. 

“How did you…” you start to ask, but she cuts you off. 

“I went to visit Jimin in his office, but I couldn't find him. I figured he was probably down in one of the studios. I jumped in the elevator and made my way down. As soon as I got off, all I could hear was a bunch of yelling. As a concerned citizen,” she starts her story.

“You mean nosy,” Jisoo butts in, but Lisa continues on as if nothing happened. 

“As a concerned citizen, I had to see what was going on. I walked down the hallway and saw Yoongi’s door was wide open. As I look in, I see Hobi struggling with Yoongi as he holds him in a bear hug. Yoongi is YELLING, I mean YELLING at Namjoon. He was all like 'I quit, I lost the love of my life because of you. Fuck you….fuck this job…'” Lisa continues, her hands flying all over as she recounts what she saw. 

“WHAT!” You exclaim and sit up in bed. 

“Yeah,” she nods her head. “That's not all, though.” 

“WHAT?” Both you and Jisoo ask in anticipation. 

“Jimin saw me and tried to get me out of the room quietly, but Yoongi noticed. He started to beg me to talk to you for him. He kept saying, 'Tell her I'm sorry, tell her I'm sorry.’ I have never seen him like that. He was just completely wrecked,” Lisa explained. “There's one more thing, though.”

“ I don't know if I can handle this,” you say quietly as you brace yourself for what she's about to say.

“Yoongi, completely trashed his studio. His couch was turned over, his small table was in pieces. There were holes in the wall, and the glass to the recording booth was shattered,” she says. 

“There is no way he destroyed his studio,” you say, shaking your head at her. “He loves that place too much to do that.”

“I know what I saw, sweets,” Lisa says, defending herself. “It was all just really sad.”

You throw yourself back on the bed and hold your stomach. Thought of him reacting the way he did made you feel sick with worry and guilt. Maybe he really did care. Maybe you should have given him a chance to talk. Maybe you shouldn't have kept all the stress to yourself. Maybe this wouldn't have happened if you had been open and honest a long time ago. 

“I didn't want this to happen,” you say.

“You are not responsible for his reaction,” Jisoo says quietly.

“Wait,” Lisa speaks up again. “Did you break up?” 

“No…I don't know,” you mumble.

Jisoo takes her original spot on your side, lying down next to you once again. Lisa joins in on your other side. Not even a minute later, Seungkwan came stomping into the with his keys clutched to his chest. 

“What is happening?” He asked, looking between the three of you. “I was leaving for lunch, and when I got to my car, Yoongi came out of nowhere and attacked me.” 

“He attacked you?” You asked, sitting straight up again. 

“Well he scared the hell out of me, and I fell into my car,” he explains. “He didn't hit me or anything, but I did hurt my elbow when I fell.”

“Seungkwan, that’s not funny,” Jisoo scolds. 

“Did he say anything,” you ask with wide eyes. 

"He asked if you were over here,” he answers. “I told him that I didn't know, but if the two of you were fighting, then probably.”

“You have such a big mouth. Why would you say that?” Lisa snaps. “She obviously doesn't want to see him, and now he will probably come over here.” 

“How was I supposed to know?” Seungkwan snaps back. 

“Seungkwan, can you…” Jisoo starts.

“Yeah, yeah. I know when I'm not wanted unlike SOME people,” he says dramatically and leaves the room, shutting the door softly behind him. 

“When did things get this bad, sweets?” Lisa asked, laying back down.

“I don’t know,” you mumble as she pulls you down with her. 

“She's been listening to her mother. Who, by the way, is the last person you want to get relationship advice from,” Jisoo says. 

“But she is not wrong,” you respond. “He has proved that work is more important.”

“Jisoo is right,” Lisa says, agreeing with your quiet friend. “Your sister told me after we went dress shopping that your mother didn't want her to marry Mingyu.”

“Your mom is jealous that you both found great men who love you unconditionally. The only relationship that you know is your parents, which wasn't a relationship at all. You have given up on this marriage before it could even begin.” Jisoo explains.

“I told him that I couldn't do this anymore,” you say in a low voice. “How do I come back from that? How do I fix this?” 

“Well, what did he say when you said that?” Lisa asks.

“I didn't let him talk, and I ran away,” you admit. 

Your two friends look at each other with shocked expressions. Suddenly, they both started to slap at your body, which was still shielded by the comforter. You start to swat their hands away, trying to get them to stop. You think that they literally were trying to slap some sense into you. 

“HELLO, YOONGI,” Seungkwan’s voice rang out loudly. “IS Y/N HERE? I… I.. HAHAHA .. I…INCOMING!” 

The three of you stop your little slapping fight and look at the closed bedroom door with baited breath. You can hear a door in the hallway open and quickly shut. It was soon followed by another one. Yoongi has never been inside their apartment before. He doesn't know the layout.

“When he comes in here, let me handle it,” Lisa whispers. 

The door handle slowly starts to turn. You can feel your heart pounding out of your chest as Yoongi enters the room. His stare lands directly on you. He looked dejected, forlorned. 

“Go,” he says, his voice raspier than normal. 

“You listen here,” Lisa points her finger at him. “You don't get to come into someone else's…”

“Now,” he growls. 

Jisoo and Lisa leap from the bed and run out the door. Wusses. You stare at him as you slowly start to move to the end of the bed. He quickly closes the door, probably thinking you were about to make another run for it. You swallow thickly and sit on the edge of the bed, letting your legs dangle off the side. Slowly, he moves to stand in front of you before he sinks to his knees on the carpeted floor.

A sob escapes his throat, and he buries his face into your lap. You have never seen him like this before, and it scares you. It scares you that you were capable of hurting him this much. You tentatively run your hand over his back as his body shakes and trembles from crying. 

“Yoongi,” you say softly.

“I'm sorry,” he gasps, face still buried in your lap. “I know you don't wanna hear it, but I'm sorry.” Yoongi wraps his arms around your waist and holds you tightly. “If this is it for us, just let me have this moment and tell you goodbye.”

Is this officially goodbye? You feel a stab to your chest just thinking about it. You are both upset and not thinking clearly. You can't let this moment be it. It wouldn't be fair. Jisoo was right. You did give up before your marriage could even start. 

“Yoongi,” you try again.

“No, give me one more minute, please,” he voice muffled where his face was pressed against your stomach. 

“I don’t want to break up,” you admit. His head shoots up as he sits up straight on his knees and looks at you, disbelieving you. Distrusting the words that spilled from your lips. “I…I just…”

“You what?” He asks patiently while waiting for you to figure out what you want to say. 

“I'm sorry too,” you tell him. “I should have said I needed help with things a long time ago. I didn't want to bother you and took too much on by myself. My mom said…”

“Stop,” he says abruptly, cutting you off. “You could never be a bother to me. I know I've fucked up and haven't been the best fiancé. I wish I could take it all back but I can't. I don't know if I want to know what your mother said to you.”

“I let her get in my head,” you admit. “She was able to play on my fears. I'm still scared, but I don't want to lose you.”

“What are you scared of? Me? Marriage?” Yoongi asks.

“I want to marry you,” you assure him with a nod of your head. “I'm scared that we will end up like my parents. You work all the time, and then I end up hating the world.”

“That will never happen,” Yoongi argues. “Remember back when I asked you to trust me when it came to me working a lot.”

“I said I would try,” you answered and nodded your head. 

Yoongi goes quiet and looks at the floor. He bobs his head up and down like he is having his own private conversation. His eyes look up to you, head still nodding up and down. 

“Give me two days,” Yoongi says. 

“Two days for what?” you asked, confused. 

“I don't want to say,” he admits.

“Your surprises haven't worked out in the past. Remember when I thought you were cheating on me?” You ask. 

“I’m clearly an idiot who still hasn't learned,” he tells you with a small smile. “Can you give me two days? Can you stay here with Jisoo, just for two more days?”

“Yes,” you answer, and Yoongi grabs your head, kissing you hard on the mouth. 

He doesn't say anything else before he is off the floor and out the door. You shake your head, trying to figure out what exactly you just agreed to. What does he have planned? You have to trust him. You do trust him. You guess you have no choice but to wait two days. 

《Chapter Nine》

Tagged Readers: 

@mggv97, @granataefelchen, @kam9404, @svnbangtansworld, @@futuristicenemychaos,  @notarshia, @@busanbby-jjk 

[nouvxllev]

closed-door policy

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Fem!Reader

Summary: There was a silent agreement seemed to form, a 'closed door policy' as Wednesday described when you brought it up abruptly. In the crowd, there were stolen glances, fleeting touches, and moments that hinted at something more. Nights were the hardest. You find yourself begging and succumbing to Wednesday's words, her touches, her glances, her kisses. But you knew the barrier; the barrier between friendship and lovers. You knew the both of you were far from it.

Words: 3k

Warnings: mentions of blood, near-death experience, intoxication/alcohol/drugs, angst, damn sexual tension, fwb typa story

a/n: first story to start off the year, happy new year everyone!! but this probably isn't the ideal story you'd read for the start of the year

part 2 || masterlist.

You sat there, silent. The first thing you heard was the rapid beating of your heart, the relentless ringing that could only be assumed as background noise. Not once in your life did you feel glad you heard the sound of your own body. The world drafted into something of a void, your vision impaired and your head became a haze. Accidentally intoxicating and cutting yourself. What a lame way to die.

You stared at your palm for a while.

Holy shit, this isn't yours.

The hand trembling before you was, of course, yours, yet the grazed and dried blood etched across your palm, racing through the cracks of our flesh, the sweat, rain from above, and blood seeping into another will never be.

You've always wanted to do something where you'd say your last words before you eventually meet the strangle of death to someone close to you. Or maybe someone who's in near-vicinity of you.

With the little willpower you had, you reached into the back pocket, pulling out a battered phone. With a deep breath caught in your throat, you dialed a number.

You called someone, atleast, someone who you think gives a single shit about your well-being before the world turns black. Someone you loved.

"Willa?" you choked, a strange wince in your voice.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You knew Wednesday wasn't one when it came to technology, actually, she's far from the target audience. Chances of her answering a phone call were slim, even if she were now owning a phone this semester. If not in a wild murder chase, fencing, or the bee-keeping club, she spent every waking moment at her workspace, the phone either tucked into the slit of her pockets or lying close by. DND, silent, volume low, nothing. You were risking your last breath for a voicemail that will never reach her.

But you were thankful she answered anyway.

The last breath you take is almost as important as the last sound you hear. A recollection, you'd say, if anyone tried to question. You had that in mind when you pressed her number, wondering if she'd answer anyway. She gave you exactly 2 seconds before she answered, only 4 seconds away for her to call out your name, and your world to close.

You'd like to think in the last few moments, Wednesday was playing her cello. You couldn't hear it, given the fact how far you were from Nevermore. But it was the same symphony you memorized in your head, the same symphony that you once hated with a passion when you first roomed with Wednesday—the perfect chords she'd play, the constant flipping of notes from her appendage, the graze of her bow against the strings, how you could see the intensity in her focused eyes as you closed yours. Back then, you despised every aspect of it, how you were always awake when she played the cello when you wanted to go to sleep. Now it became something you were humming in your head, hoping it'd keep you alive like how it always kept you awake when you wanted to sleep.

Wednesday had a change of heart when she saw your caller ID. Without a second thought, she abandoned everything down to her writing time and cello to rush through the door in the dead of night. Rain poured outside as if it was the purge in the skies, but she didn't bother changing into something decent. She needed to find you, she needed to find you in a condition that wouldn't keep her up at night. The thought of you, possibly lying half dead consumed every inch of her, leading her to spring through the woods under the haunting moonlit sky. Or, that's what you would like to believe.

There she found you near a tree, your legs splayed and your head hanging heavily over your shoulders. The phone in your grasp was slipping away as your body succumbed to giving out, the dim light of the flickering screen casted on your face before it powered off. Blood stained your hands and head, and a slash that pierced through your shirt gave Wednesday the assumption you were stabbed by someone.

Finding a lifeless body had always held a fascination for Wednesday, The last moments of someone's life could only mean so much, and it meant everything to see someone die in their own flesh and bones as the glint in their eyes faded away for Wednesday, and it would only be better if she was the cause.

But finding in you in the state you were in, realizing that you were now someone dying in their own flesh and bones, left to rot abandoned in a forest by all, Wednesday could only pray to whatever fucked deity that led you into this fate to have mercy on you, hoping that your heart would still beat as she picked you up from death.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

By the time your eyes started to open, you could only think you made yourself through the rings of hell, a pat on the back you gave to yourself. Before finding out you were back in Ophelia Hall, the dorm you and Wednesday both shared.

You couldn't remember anything. Just how you were sitting near a tree, humming a tune you wouldn't forget even if you died, not even thinking once how your blood got mixed with someone elses. All you do remember is attending a party in the middle of the woods and that's it.

A reckless, foolish, heedless rogue.

That's what you were.

Or atleast, in Wednesday's terms.

You're pretty good you could say to yourself.

The tree you had been near was replaced by the headboard of your bed where Wednesday and Thing were diligently tending to your wounds, with a particularly nasty slash that crossed your entire abdomen. It's a surprise how you weren't dead by now.

A groan escaped your lips as you sat on the bed, absorbing Wednesday's scolding about your 'idiotic recklessness that couldn't be detained even if the leash with great resiliency were to be in her hands.'

"Ugh, chill out Wends. I still have enough blood in me to last maybe a few years. Just let it pour out."

'You're pretty calm for someone who lost a ton of blood and is still bleeding by the minute.' The appendage on your lap signed as he lifted up the cloth that was bloodied red at this point.

Wednesday found herself back in your bed carrying a medkit and some supplies she hid under the table. More specifically just some torture tools she had in hopes of torturing someone this semester. "I should have left your lifeless body to rot."

You chuckled, "'Tis fine, not that deep anyways." You were preparing to lift yourself up to adjust yourself from the uncomfortable position you were in, considering that your head was hunched over than normal, but Wednesday's glare warned you against any movement. It's like wrong twitch, and she seemed ready to take away your ability to move altogether.

"Why didn't you carry me to the clinic?"

"The school clinic is closed for the night," Wednesday replied, opening the kit to pull out a pair of scissors, tweezers, and threads. "You should thank the spontaneous timing you have on death."

"Then why don't you call an ambulance?" You eyed how Wednesday fixed herself onto you, your line of sight following her gaze. Seeing how a single glare from her automatically made you think to lie down without being told to.

"Your soul would've passed by the time they've arrived."

You raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on your lips. "I thought you liked seeing people die. Change of heart?" But then that smirk eventually faded away and replaced with a wince when she pierced the clean part of your skin to thread the needle.

She shot you a withering look, then turned her attention back to cleaning and dressing the wound. She didn't answer immediately, what she was thinking was unreadable, even for you. "Foolish of you to mistake this for compassion. I'd rather not deal with the mess of explaining why there is one less head amongst us."

You couldn't help but chuckle at her matter-of-fact response. "Ah, the inconvenience of your roommate's dead body. I appreciate your utmost concern, Wednesday."

You want to believe you and Wednesday are on the best of terms. After all, she is tending to your wounds and giving a talk that isn't limited to one sentence. Or atleast that's what you want to believe. You knew above all else she'd go to lengths to manipulate someone to get what she wanted, so why let your guard down now.

But there was that thing. If letting your guard down is what it takes to be noticed by Wednesday Addams, you wanted to get manipulated by her. Even if it's one-sided.

You loved her.

"Why did you request my presence?" Wednesday started, her eyes still focused on the large cut you had.

"You mean call you?" You winced as she continued stitching, the throbbing pain from your chest coming back to haunt your nerves.

"Yes. Of course, call me."

"Dying's too easy Wends. One fucked up shit you do to your body you're—" You blew a raspberry, seemingly to mimic an explosion, a combustion of sorts. Which, of course, earned nothing from Wednesday. If you were sitting up, you'd see an unimpressed look on her face by now.

"I wanted to live for you, Willa. But even if I did die, atleast I spent the last moment calling you. Even in death, I couldn't escape the music of your cello."

"...I assume you are intoxicated up to this moment." She stitched up the last piece of skin and tightened it while wrapping your chest up with gauze.

'Did it not wear off?' Thing signed before Wednesday requested him to go fetch water and draw a bath.

Wednesday now regretted how she ignored you when you shared you'll be going to a party held up by the stoners. How it'll last up until midnight, and how she didn't tell you that it'll likely be some fraternity party that they just let anybody go, even if you weren't a part of it.

She thought you'd just be in there for a little while, considering how you weren't big on parties, you were just someone who wanted to join for a little bit and then eventually dip if things got worse. But she didn't expect this to be the outcome. By the look of your state, and how fucked up your mental state was judging how you talked, and how you often slurred your words, she could only assume someone either spiked your drinks with a shit ton of drugs or someone forced you to take some while being under the influence of alcohol then took you out into the woods for whatever reason.

Wednesday tucked her hand under your head and then pulled you into a sitting position, her dark eyes flicking up to meet yours. The unimpressed look on her face softened for a moment.

You took notice of how her eyes softened, or maybe it was just you and the drugs talking in your head, but there was definitely something. After a painful stitching process on your chest, she was now tending to your wounds on your skull area, not that much, but you knew your head was slightly bleeding and how you definitely got a blackeye, considering how closing your eyes burns like hell.

"Living requires more sacrifice than dying." Wednesday started, her voice being something that lifted the weight on your shoulders.

You chuckled weakly, the pain in your chest now drowned out. "Guess that's why it's so easy to do, and how some would like to." You studied her as she spoke, your voice seemingly getting quite as your gaze began to drift off somewhere else.

"How it brings me peace," You started, and even from here, or maybe just because you were under the influence, you could see Wednesday trembling. "How it erases my problems, how it erases me out of existence." You voice dwindled into a whisper, a breathy sigh left you.

"How death was the only way to get your undivided attention." Your eyes gaze over Wednesday's lips before going over to her eyes, to your surprise, she was leaned back, her usual stoic expression wavered and her jaw was clenched.

A flicker of something, maybe amusement, crossed Wednesday's features. "You have an uncanny way of getting what you want."

You chuckled weakly, the pain in your body forgotten and replaced with something burning inside you. "I just wanted your hands on me, Wends." Not something you'd say after going through a near-death experience, but it was partially true.

She met your gaze, her dark eyes meeting yours, who just wanted nothing but love. Her hand moved to gently cup your cheek, her thumb tracing a delicate pattern. "There are better ways to make me notice you." She murmured, a breathy voice you never heard from her before, her eyes searching yours for consent before her eyes flicker to your lips.

You closed the remaining distance. Your lips brushed against hers, a soft, lingering kiss you placed onto her soft ones. Wednesday responded, her lips parting slightly, deepening the kiss.

You could feel the softness of her lips, the warmth of her breath mingling with yours. Her fingers traced a slow, tantalizing path down your neck, sliding her hands around you and pulling you closer, but careful enough she didn't bring back that agonizing pain in your chest.

Every touch, every moment, everything that made Wednesday her at this moment made your world fade away. The warmth of her body against yours sent shivers down your spine, and you could feel her hands gliding across your body while you sat there, letting her own you in every way possible with just one single kiss.

The taste of her was intoxicating, intoxicating enough that it just might bring back that feeling of numbness and ringing in your ears, the idea of luxury was something more, something like her lips onto yours. Your hands found their way to her waist, your fingers tracing the curves of her body as you deepened the kiss.

When the kiss finally broke off, you found yourself breathless and wanting more, hunger reflecting in your eyes. Wednesday's gaze lingered on yours, and never once did reality hit you more harder than you thought.

Holy fuck, you kissed Wednesday Addams.

If you weren't dead that time in the woods, you were certainly dead now.

"Oh God. Oh shit, Wednesday, I'm so—I'm so sorry. I'll just—actually, I'll just room with Enid and Yoko for the whole semester, okay? Okay!" Panic laced your words as you fumbled across the bed, "Good—fuck that hurts!"

You winced as you tried to get up, the pain shooting through your body. Wednesday's hand gently pressed against your shoulder, halting your attempts to escape. "Sit down, y/n" she commanded, her tone surprisingly gentle.

"Stay," she commanded, her voice low and steady. Damn were you a dog or something? There was a glint in her eyes, something you could only mistake as someone in love with you too. "Apologies are unnecessary."

You hesitated, caught between the urge to escape the situation and the magnetic pull of Wednesday's presence. "I just... I didn't mean to overstep, I—"

Wednesday silenced you with a lingering gaze. "I assure you, you are far from overstepping," she stated, her tone unwavering. "In fact, you have my attention. For the record, I do not want you rooming with Enid and Yoko."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Everyone knew you as the unlucky girl to receive a dormmate like Wednesday Addams. Considering all the rumors going around, how she keeps secret arsenals in the fabric of her clothing, the maybe-not-so-empty-50/50-threats and her aura in general made everyone fear her.

But honestly, you found that utter bullshit.

That's why you couldn't help but laugh and send a nonchalant "It's fine" when people ask about your mental state rooming with Wednesday Addams, and how people crossed the hallway just to avoid passing by your room. Well, probably since all the rumors were true, and the fact that she was scary as fuck was definitely true.

"New rumor in town saying you've got a pet spider that guards the entrance of our room," you mentioned, entering the room after your club and classes ended, wanting nothing more than to see the goth girl that everyone feared.

Wednesday glanced up from her book, a dry tone leaving her lips. "Humoring. Unfortunately, I left my pet spider back at the Addams Estate."

Actually, back then, you were one of the people who were terrified of Wednesday Addams. The first time you entered your dorm when you transferred, you had a knife shot at you, slightly grazing the side of your neck. But every now and then, you found yourself warming up to her. Why? Even you didn't know. Something about her, something about her coming every late at night after a wild murder chase, something about her playing her goddamn cello and spending every living day on her typewriter, just something about her made you insane.

Wednesday's gaze held yours for a moment, the intensity of her dark eyes softening. "Maybe you're just not easily scared."

"Or maybe I've just had the pleasure of getting to know the real Wednesday Addams," you replied with a grin.

The weeks that followed the near-death experience you had held a strange tension between you and Wednesday. The both of you fell into a routine where the both of you would wake up, pretend nothing happened between the both of you, and go to classes, and when it ends, it'll be like a flick of a switch where you two would eventually find eachother in eachothers pants.

There was a silent agreement seemed to form, a 'closed door policy' as Wednesday described when you brought it up abruptly. In the crowd, there were stolen glances, fleeting touches, and moments that hinted at something more. Nights were the hardest. You find yourself begging and succumbing to Wednesday's words, her touches, her glances, her kisses. But you knew the barrier, the barrier between friendship and lovers. You knew the both of you were far from it.

But that was what you wanted, right?

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

a/n: part 2 soon???

[kathlare]

a call to connect

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: Lando Norris finds himself facing an unexpected challenge during the filming of a McLaren campaign for Mental Health Day.

Wordcount: 1.1 k

Warnings: none

full masterlist // request over here!

October 10th, 2024 - London, United Kingdom

The morning sun filtered through the pristine glass walls of the McLaren Technology Centre, casting soft reflections on the polished floors. Lando Norris leaned against a sleek counter in the media suite, fidgeting with the cuffs of his team polo. Around him, the McLaren media team buzzed with energy, organizing cameras, reviewing scripts, and prepping for the Mental Health Day campaign video they were set to film.

Lando ran a hand through his messy hair, his nerves tingling slightly. He wasn’t nervous about being on camera—he was used to that by now—but the topic at hand was heavier than the usual fun, lighthearted media content. Mental health was something close to his heart, especially after years of navigating the highs and lows of being in Formula 1.

—Right, Lando,— said Hannah, one of the lead producers on the McLaren media team, as she approached him with a clipboard. —We’re keeping it simple for this. The idea is to encourage people to check in on someone they care about. You’ll call someone, tell them you were just thinking about them, and have a casual chat. It’s meant to show how little gestures like this can make a big difference.—

Lando blinked at her. —Wait, you want me to call someone? Like… on the phone?—

Hannah laughed at his expression. —Yes, Lando, that’s the point. It’s genuine and unscripted. Just be yourself.—

He groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. —I hate calling people. Can’t I just text them instead?—

The team burst into laughter, a few playful jabs thrown his way about his aversion to phone calls.

—No texting,— Hannah replied firmly but with a grin. —It has to be a call. And you’re going to be great. Who you call is entirely up to you, someone who matters to you.—

Lando hesitated for a moment, his mind immediately jumping to one person. Amelie. They hadn’t spoken much today—her tour schedule was brutal, and she was currently preparing for a show in Pennsylvania. But he knew she’d pick up for him, no matter how busy she was.

He pulled his phone from his pocket, quickly unlocking it and scrolling through his contacts. His thumb hovered over her name for a moment. Amelie.

It felt almost too easy to dial her number. After all, this was someone he’d known for years—someone who’d been a friend long before they’d started something more. Their relationship was built on a foundation of shared laughter, teasing, and mutual respect. But ever since they’d started dating seriously again, after what felt like a lifetime of missed connections, the chemistry between them was undeniable. Their conversations were never dull, always charged with that undercurrent of flirtation, even if they were just talking about the most mundane things.

He tapped the call button before he could second-guess himself, leaning back against the counter as the phone rang. The sound of it echoed around the room, but Lando barely noticed, too focused on hearing her voice.

Amelie’s voicemail picked up after a couple of rings, and Lando groaned, about to hang up, but before he could, he heard a familiar, soft chuckle on the other end.

—You’re early, Lan,— Amelie’s voice came through, warm and laced with an affectionate amusement.

Lando grinned, his heart skipping a beat. —I was just thinking about you, Ames,— he said, leaning further back, his eyes glancing at the camera crew who were trying to pretend they weren’t watching intently. He knew they were waiting for him to perform, but he didn’t feel like he was acting. It was just Amelie, after all.

—Really?— she replied, the hint of surprise in her tone as she adjusted herself in what Lando assumed was her dressing room. —You’re sweet. I was just about to go on stage, but I’ve got a few minutes. What’s up?—

—Nah, nothing, just thought I’d call and see how you’re doing, you know?— he replied, his voice teasing. —I miss you. How’s the show prep going?—

Amelie’s laugh filled his ear, and he could practically picture her, hands resting on her hips as she took a breath, preparing to go out and perform. —It’s hectic, as usual. You know how it is. But I’m good, Lan. How are you?—

He could hear the slight tremor of a smile in her voice. The kind of smile that made him feel warm, no matter how far apart they were.

—Same old, same old,— Lando responded, half-focused on the call and half-conscious of the team still working around him. He could feel their eyes on him. But this wasn’t a performance; this was real, and the way Amelie made him feel was never scripted.

—You miss me, huh?— she asked, a teasing edge to her words. —I bet you just called because you wanted to hear my voice before your day gets busy again.—

Lando smiled widely, knowing she knew him too well. —Maybe. Or maybe I just wanted an excuse to talk to you. You know how it is. It’s been too long since we’ve been able to just chat. We need to fix that.—

—Well, when I’m back, we’ll make up for all this time apart, I promise,— Amelie said, the energy of her voice softening a little, but there was that warmth that always seemed to sneak into her words when she talked to him.

The camera crew could hear her, too. A couple of them exchanged soft smiles, clearly enjoying the authenticity of the moment. Even though Lando had been in the public eye for years, it was clear to everyone around him how important Amelie was.

—I’ll hold you to that, Ames,— Lando teased, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. His gaze flitted around the room, but all he really wanted was to stay in the conversation. The world outside of this little bubble they’d created didn’t matter. It was just him and Amelie, even if she was a thousand miles away.

—You better,— she chuckled. He could hear the sound of someone calling her from behind, and there was a shift in the tone of her voice as she turned away from whatever was going on backstage. —Alright, Lan, I’m gonna have to cut this short. Someone just reminded me that I’ve got five minutes before I need to get on stage.—

Lando’s smile faded into a gentle frown. He hated hearing that their conversation had to end, especially when he’d just gotten a glimpse of her voice, but he knew the drill. Her world was always in motion, and he didn’t mind. He was used to the hectic pace of her life, but that didn’t mean he didn’t miss her when she was caught up in it all.

—Alright, Ames,— he said, his voice softening as he leaned against the counter again. —Go do your thing. I’ll be cheering for you, obviously. You’ve got this.—

—You’re cute, Lan,— she teased, the playful tone coming through once more. —You really do miss me, huh?—

—Of course, I do, you know I do,— Lando replied, his grin returning. He let the words linger, teasing but also honest, the depth of his feelings always there when they spoke like this.

Amelie’s voice softened just a touch, as though she were savoring the moment. —I miss you, too, more than I’ve been able to say, but I’ll see you soon, yeah? I’ll send you a text after the show, and we’ll catch up properly, I promise.—

Lando’s heart did a little flip at the way she said "soon." He couldn’t wait for that. He never could.

—I’m holding you to it,— he said, his voice low but playful. He leaned forward, feeling a bit of anticipation in his chest. —You better call me, Ames. I’m counting on it.—

Amelie let out a little laugh, and Lando could practically hear the way she was smiling, a genuine, radiant smile that made him feel like the luckiest guy alive.

—Alright, alright, you sweet talker. See you soon, Lan.—

Before Lando could get another word in, the sound of someone in the background calling her name again interrupted their conversation.

—Alright, that’s my cue. Love you, Lan.—

The words took Lando by surprise for a moment, catching him off guard, though they weren't new. She'd always been affectionate in her own way, and they'd shared this kind of intimacy long before their official relationship. But hearing it now, with the kind of care that came with knowing each other as they did, it felt like everything he’d hoped for, everything they’d come through together.

His voice caught slightly as he said, —Love you too, Ames. Have a good show.—

The line went quiet for a moment, and then he heard the click of her phone hanging up.

Lando stared at the phone in his hand, feeling a mixture of pride and yearning. He didn’t need the cameras to tell him how lucky he was. The way Amelie had spoken to him, the way their relationship had unfolded—it was something real, something grounded in the shared history of their friendship and that undeniable spark that had always been there.

As he pocketed his phone, the buzz of activity around him became louder. But for just a moment, he was lost in his thoughts, picturing Amelie on stage, doing what she loved. And, in some way, it felt like a promise—a promise that, no matter how far apart they were, they’d always find their way back to each other.

He smiled, already looking forward to the next time they’d be in the same place.

-------------

liked by ameliedayman, l4nation, and others

mclaren: A call can make all the difference. Pick up the phone. 📞Whether it’s checking in with a friend, family member or colleague, your voice can be someone’s lifeline. 🧡

View all 2,453 comments

mclarenfanatic_22: Lando’s call to Amelie??? This is the most genuine thing I’ve seen all week 🥹💖 Just love how real they are! → ameliefan_93: @mclarenfanatic_22 I can’t get over how sweet and natural that call was 😭 It’s like watching two people who actually care for each other.

racefan_01: Lando being the one to encourage us to check in on others is a vibe! It’s the little things that make a difference.

mclaren_superfan: “I miss you too, more than I’ve been able to say” – cue my heart breaking into pieces 💔 → f1_heartbreak_2025: @mclaren_superfan Same! That part hit so hard. I can feel the emotion through the screen. 😭

alexperezfan: We need more content like this. The world’s chaotic, but simple calls like this are what really make us feel connected. 🧡

itsyourbdaybutterfly: I’m crying. Lando calling Amelie?? I KNOW this hit differently. They’ve always had that energy 💫 → lanamielovers: @itsyourbdaybutterfly SAME. The way he said "I miss you" hit different 😭 Like, this is real real.

xomadison: Aww, this is SO wholesome. 💖 And can we talk about how Lando was so nervous about making the call? LOL a man after my own heart! → lando_and_amie: @xomadison lol literally!! Like he races F1 cars but a simple phone call has him shook 😂

florida_nicole: Amelie and Lando are the BEST friends-turned-relationship energy I’ve ever seen. Give us more content like this! 😭💖

f1girlie: HE CALLED HER. Can we please talk about how this was just a casual phone call, and yet it felt like the most emotional thing on the planet? They are so in love, I can’t take it. 💕 → landamielovers_: @f1girlie I legit thought I was watching a rom-com, like the tension was real 😂

f1fever: I’m officially obsessed with Lando’s mental health awareness era. He’s out here spreading love and supporting friends 💚 → caringforlando: @f1fever honestly, this is bigger than just a campaign. He’s showing how simple actions can make such a difference.

melodysweets: This campaign was so powerful. The message is simple, but meaningful. Checking in on someone can literally save their day. 💕

[controlsy]

These are the main characters of the story! A Spinch scientist in the mountain town of Ragus Kaep named Dr. Hawk wanted to do something no scientists had ever done before, which was create an entirely new form of life. Though he succeeded, it didn't go how he thought it would.

His intentions were to make an ESPer robanthry who could take in every piece of information imaginable. Verge N. 1 was his first attempt at this. Verge is effectively a "technology ESPer" which means he can read all data from every piece of technology. As an example, looking at a phone he could read through its entire message history, its browsing history, every app it has, every contact, and every voicemail. However, unlike regular ESPers, he cannot read the intentions behind messages that are sent.

Hawk considered Verge to be on the brink (or verge) of success, but not good enough, so he created Verse N. 2, who was the second attempt. Verse is exactly what he wanted- he can not only read technology, but also the minds of regular anthries and every living thing. Verse is, quite literally, the most dangerous thing that has ever lived on Spinch.

Hawk's intentions were bad- he wanted to use them for evil gains, but he didn't anticipate how much free will they'd have, and instead of being able to use their abilities for wrongdoing, he simply puts them through testing and tasks and experiments to see what they are capable of. He controls their lives.

Verse resents their creator because he doesn't view either of them as actual people, and he's full of bitterness and anger. Verge doesn't like Hawk either, but he also has a SERIOUS complex about the fact he's literally the "failure" of the project, while Verse is the "success". Verge and Verse are also technically the same person in their programming- Verse is simply an "improved" edition of Verge. Hawk just built them with different appearances to differentiate them. Both of them also have huge identity issues and want to be their own people and don't like that they're the same person... at least most of the time, when sometimes Verge falls into the wish that they WERE literally the same because Verse is "better" than him.

ESPer robanthries are different from regular anthries in one major way. They have the ability to control their powers instead of it being non-stop and un-mutable. One aspect of robanthry biology is the fact that, since they are computers, all of their "senses" are just programs, so they can turn them on and off. They can turn off their hearing, their sight, their voice, or their sense of touch at any time. The ESPer sense is technically just another program, so they can turn that off too.

I hope you guys like them!!!

[craving-for-chaos]

Does it also startle you by how panicked Viper sounds when she is suppressed? I swear (as a Tejo main), "Drone is down!" and "TOXINS FAILING" are NOT the same

It does kind of startle me a little whenever I hear that voiceline, mostly because it's rare to hear Viper sound anything but angry or neutral, but when I think about it it makes sense, you know?

Viper is (if my memory serves correctly) the only agent except Vyse who has lasting util that can't be destroyed as far as placed/summoned abilities go. You have things like drones which I'm pretty sure can be disrupted by KAY/O's suppression, but those can also be shot down—same goes for things like KJ's turret, Cypher's camera, Chamber's trademark, etc.

Unlike other agents' utility, however, Viper's is invulnerable to enemy abilities and gunfire. Hell, she's the only agent who even has a "suppressed voiceline" because all of the other agents just have voicelines for when their utility/abilities are destroyed. The only thing that SHOULD be able to stop her utility is her fuel running out, and she knows that. Technically, KAY/O's suppression shouldn't even affect her technology in the first place since it isn't radiant, but the same could said for any human agent's abilities. In any case, I can understand why (even though she's aware KAY/O can have this effect on her utility,) Viper's gut instinct is to feel panicked and/or frustrated when she's suppressed and her toxins just disappear.

Plus, despite what her more cool-headed and calculating voicelines and cinematic portrayals would have us believe, Viper is quite a reactive person. She snaps at other agents, yells at and about the enemy, and we've even seen in her voicemails to Brimstone that she's prone to panic and frustration when things aren't under her control. With all that in mind, I feel like her "Toxins failing!" voiceline being more emotional when compared to others' voicelines fits.

[lulublack90]

Prompt 2 - Spill

Wolfstar, March 2, word count 228

Previous part First part

“Remus!” Lily yelled out the open window at him in panic as he walked over to her car. “Remus, we lost Sirius!” Remus felt cold flood his system.

“What do you mean you lost Sirius?” He quickly jumped in the car and buckled up as Lily sped away. 

“I mean, somehow he managed to wander off and James can’t find him.” Remus unlocked his phone and tried to phone him. It went straight to voicemail. 

“We’ve been trying that,” Lily sighed. “He’s either run out of battery or, more likely, he’s not got any signal. Those trees are weird, they block all technology. I once took a compass in there, and it just kept spinning around, unable to find north.” Remus just nodded along. He was so worried something had happened to him. There wasn’t anything that could probably hurt him. The nastiest thing in that forest was the deer, and they usually ran away at the sight of humans. Sirius’s most imminent danger was the dropping sun. Soon the temperature would dip and Sirius would begin to lose body heat. Tears began to spill from his eyes, but he quickly scrubbed them away. Tears were no good now, he needed to find Sirius. 

Lily pulled up outside the house and Remus got out before the engine was even off and stalked into the trees lining the house.  

Next part

[delphi-shield]

Variations on a Theme

Claire Redfield x Leon Kennedy wc: ~2.6k post-vendetta, pre-death island. short fic that wouldnt leave me alone so i had to write it down. might write a continuation. happy sept. 30th, i miss my babies. dividers from @/adornedwithlight

summary: Sherry organizes a memorial service; Claire and Leon try to put aside their grief to mourn the way she does.

The call comes through at 11 PM the night before. Leon ignores most calls to his personal cell after nine, but for Claire, he makes an exception.

She never calls without purpose. Not anymore. There had been nights in the past when it had been anything and everything and the nothing in between that had kept them up until early hours of the morning. Calls crammed between operations and meetings, voicemails that still haunted his inbox. They had been better at this once.

The small talk hadn't been so stilted and forced like it was now. No ‘hey, I saw that report on Bali - was that you?’ because Claire would have known. He would have told her everything – or mostly everything. Leon would have redacted the parts that could get her into trouble. He'd leave out hostage scenarios gone wrong, spare her the inequity of his work even though she's sure to find out on her own.

Somewhere along the way, he'd started redacting so many details that his recountings had boiled down to ‘I'm glad to be back’. Somewhere along the way, Claire had stopped pressing for more.

Claire doesn't bother feigning interest in his last operation this time. She doesn't need to - TerraSave already put out a statement condemning the outcome.

She's good at small talk, always has been better at people than him. Conversation flows from her, connections come easy. He'd always admired that about her. Now, though, she's floundering. His short, to the point answers have her at a loss. That's new. Usually it just pisses her off.

“What’s going on, Claire?” he asks for the second time in their short conversation.

She lapses into silence. Redfield family trait - they love to go quiet on you when they've been found out. Like they're waiting for you to move on - like you'll forget if they just don't acknowledge it.

“Sherry's organized this memorial service,”  Claire finally broaches. “For - y'know. I think it would mean a lot to her if you were there.”

Dread weighs heavy in his stomach. Of course he knows. He's been dreading this kind of thing since Terragrigia, since the gritty details of bioterrorism had been shoved in the average American's home. It's not hard to put two and two together, to realize what the Raccoon City incident had been. Maybe the public would never know the full extent, the involvement of the government, but there's footage of a hunter on LiveLeak, for fuck's sake. You could cover this shit up in the 90's, but they hadn't been on top of things when the century had turned, when more information than ever had been pumped to the general populace. Now it was like sticking a bandaid on a hemorrhaging wound.

He didn't think it would be one of their own who did this, who dredged up Raccoon City's bloated corpse and put it on display. He thought some well-meaning intern, some politician looking for a bump in numbers, trying to seem empathetic might pull this stunt – but one of their own?

He can't tell if it's a dim sense of betrayal that's twisting his gut into knots or if it's anger. He's carefully curated his life to avoid this. The month of September is his memorial. He doesn't need the cameras, the spotlight - he doesn't need other people sobbing out their grief right next to him, not when he keeps his tight to his chest.

Jesus. Sherry couldn't have asked him herself? Not in person, God no – but sent him a calendar invite or emailed him a flier - something that would give him plausible deniability. Something he could ignore, slide into the recycle bin, claim he never received and curse technology. Sorry, Sherry. All this new technology is just tough for me to keep up with. As if he's not got the latest and greatest in hand at all times.

“Are you going?”

Claire is quiet on the other end of the line.

“It would mean a lot to her.”

Leon snorts. “That's a ‘no’.”

Claire's huff is almost lost through the phone, but he can picture her pout well enough. Lord knows he's the cause more often than not.

It's not just that he hates this kind of thing, or that he's still hot off the heels of Benson's death, that the media could have a field day with him showing up to an event like this. If the wrong people hear about this, they'll all be lambasted as nutjob conspiracy theorists. If the wrong people have found out about this, it could get dangerous fast.

Leon does the only thing he can think to. Deflect.

“She shouldn't be doing this shit,” Leon points out. “Raccoon City is still classified.”

He can feel Claire roll her eyes from the other side of the phone. He bites his tongue. Improvement, he thinks. A month ago he would have cut loose, blown this whole conversation up.

“She's not releasing classified info, Leon. It's a memorial.”

“Brass is gonna have a problem with this, and I don't know if I can bail her out.”

“She got it cleared months ago. You'd know if–” Claire stops herself. She's trying, too, he realizes when she swerves around the giant crater that was the way he'd spent a year drinking himself into oblivion. “You’d know if you actually checked your email.”

Damn. She's got him there. Maybe Sherry already tried the calendar invite and the flier. In his mind's eye, she's still 12 years old, ruddy cheeked and gap toothed - clicking clumsily around a computer to make a flier, sending it to him, waiting–

He stops that train of thought, pins the ache in his chest on a recently cracked rib.

“Nobody asks Valentine to go to this shit.”

“Jill's busy.”

“And I'm not?”

“Can you just show up for Sherry?”

“Can't we just take her out for ice cream after or something?”

“She's not–” 

Claire pauses on the other end of the line. Leon's not as good at this as he used to be, can't tell if she stopped herself so she doesn't laugh or so she doesn't snap at him.

Inhale. Shaky exhale. He can hear her struggling not to smile.

“She's not a kid anymore.”

He knows that. Of course he knows that. He's seen her in the field. She’s a powerhouse, full-grown and owning it.

Man up, Kennedy, he thinks. Do it for your girls.

The thought sends a jolt skittering across his skin, raises the hair on his arms. He hasn't thought of them like that in years - not sober, at least.

“I'm not sitting on the stage,” he says firmly.

“Me either.”

“And I’m not giving a speech.”

“I don't think it's a media thing,” Claire says, the way one might try to calm a spooked horse. “She just wanted to do something for people like us. It's gonna be low-key.”

Claire has a very different definition of ‘low-key’ than he does, but he hums all the same.

“All right,” he relents. “Send me the details.”

It doesn't take more than a few seconds for his phone to vibrate. She was ready for that, probably planned on sending it to him whether he said yes or no.

She sounds cheerful, reveling in her victory, when she winds up the call with the promise to see him next week. He can count the times Claire has been happy to see him lately on one hand; when he tosses his phone back to his nightstand, he counts that as a win.

The week flies by as if September 30th couldn't get there quick enough. Usually, the week of the 30th dragged - every hour of every day dedicated to a remembrance of the last normal hours of his life. Mourning is on hold for now - he’s saving it all up for Sherry's big event.

Claire texts him a reminder two days before. He types and retypes a response over and over, and somewhere in the revisions he realizes it's not just about him. She doesn't want to do this either. Not alone.

See you there. Ice cream after.

Leon’s locked in now. He prays for work to run long, for an emergency to crop up that sends him across the country - but the office is quiet. He's grateful not to run into Sherry, grateful that he won't have the chance to open his mouth and ruin things. There will plenty of time for that later.

You promised, he tells himself the morning of, phone in hand, debating on calling in sick. His feet are leaden when he dresses, hands heavy at the wheel of his car. He's in a daze the whole day, barely remembers driving to work. If anyone notices, they don't call him on it. He’s ghosting through another September unseen.

But the end of the day forces him back into his body. He'll be late if he sits in his car any longer. The engine turns over despite his prayers. He promised, he tells himself. He can't make them do this alone.

The park Sherry picked out for the memorial service is close to the office. He could walk, but he's not going to limit his options in case things go south, wants the ability to get in his car and bail. Halfway there, he realizes he's been followed. He stays in his car, watching the suburban in the rearview when they pull in a few spots down. Leon only relaxes when a gaggle of kids burst from the sliding door, run off ahead of their mother.

Claire's waiting for him when he hops out. She leans against her bike. Her hair is down - shorter than he remembers. Her thick jacket thrown over the seat of her bike, leaving her in a black turtleneck and a pair of orange corduroys.

“You know it's not formal, right?”

“I'm coming from work. Cut me some slack.”

Claire laughs, ducking her head. She pushes off of her bike and waves for him to follow. She swishes into the park ahead of him, her steps only faltering until he catches up to her side with a handful of long strides. Side by side like this, there’s enough room to slot Sherry in between them. Wherever she is - probably off playing party planner.

He always thought she’d be good at that. Sherry’s good at making sure people are taken care of, making sure they have what they need. She’s got a quiet sort of intensity that can spook people, sure, but she’s fun and exuberant - she could have had a shot at a real life, if things had been different.

She reserved a little gazebo for the event. White chairs in a handful of neat lines, a little charcoal grill off to the side, picnic table lined with candles and framed photos. It’s sweet, the way she’s done everything up. Probably put hours into this, getting things just so. She’s done a good job, honest.

Leon just can't stop checking every angle. He's braced for the sight of a flash - camera or muzzle, he's not sure which would be worse. Couldn't Sherry have picked somewhere more private? Couldn't she have rented out the basement of some bar, given him an excuse not to show? Sorry, Sherry, I'm working on myself - can't put myself through the temptation.

No. Of course not. She'd probably considered that already. The kid is too considerate for her own good. Rented out a gazebo just so no one had to face their demons.

Claire pauses at a row of chairs, gesturing for Leon to sit. He forgets to smile when he tears his eyes away from a suspicious copse of bushes. His hand ghosts against the small of her back, urging her to go first. He needs to be on the end, needs to be able to get to his feet quick when something happens.

If, he reminds himself. If something happens.

Claire slips into her seat without protest. Maybe the occasion has her feeling off, too. He tries not to read into it.

Leon lets out a low whistle as he sinks into his chair. “There's more people than I thought there'd be.”

“I know,” Claire hums. “Sometimes it feels like we're the only ones.”

How many people had been there? How many had been on the streets, had escaped by the skin of their teeth? How many of these people were here to mourn someone who had wasted away before their time?

His eyes lock onto hands and mouths, tries to match them to ones he sees in his dreams. Teeth snapping, hands teasing at him, pulling him under a writhing mass of rot, ichor spilling into his mouth, choking him.

Claire nudges him, leans closer. Her shampoo wafts across him, the stench of decades old decay that stings his eyes soothed by cherries. Her fingers light on his wrist.

“Still doing ice cream after? I know a place.”

If they were here for anyone else, he'd have grabbed Claire's hand and pulled her out to the parking lot. They'd cut the shit, go get ice cream and pretend things weren't complicated. He'd get butter pecan and Claire would tease him for being basic. Ice cream is a fifteen minute treat, but they'd linger until the parlor closed, until the workers were shooting them dirty looks.

But they're here for Sherry. Leon makes himself smile, mouth thinning.

“Yeah. After.”

People file in, some alone, the same haunted look that he wears well, others with whole families. There's maybe thirty people - small number on paper, but packed in like this makes it feel claustrophobic. He scans the crowd for Sherry again and again, searching for a glimpse of her. Claire’s hand stays on his wrist, heavier now. He wishes he could turn his hand and capture hers. He doesn’t know how to.

“She still comin’?” He murmurs to Claire.

“She better. This is her thing,” she grumbles back. The corner of his mouth lifts in a smirk. He knew she wasn’t all-in on this whole thing.

Before he can call her on it, Sherry beats down the center aisle, clambering up the steps of the gazebo. Leon clicks his tongue, sits a little straighter. There she is, digging Claire out of a moment of weakness once again.

“Thank you all so much for coming,” Sherry starts, shuffling note cards in her hands. 

Claire lets out a coo under her breath. She leans closer, presses against Leon’s arm to whisper, “she’s so nervous. Look.”

Leon doesn’t need to be directed to see the tremble of Sherry’s fingers, but he looks anyway. Public speaking isn’t the issue, he knows that much - it’s got to be the topic.

Leon sits a little taller. He nudges Claire’s knee with his own, a silent ‘watch this’. He coughs into his fist, louder and longer than necessary.

Sherry tracks the sound instinctively. Her eyes light on them in the crowd. The apples of her cheeks bunch up, smile so wide that she's transformed right back into that little girl he knew, that clung to his hand and swung his arm as they walked down the road. Her words trail off, pause long enough to be noticeable but not to be awkward.

“I’m so grateful that each and every one of you have taken the time to come here tonight,” she continues, her eyes lingering on Leon, flitting back to Claire.

There. That’s his good deed for the month.

“You’re buying,” he whispers to Claire once Sherry’s eyes have finally drifted away.

Claire snorts. She pats his arm. He can see it all over her face - yeah, right.

Yeah, right. His girls are gonna burn an ice cream-shaped hole in his wallet by the end of the night.