#so like obviously i have to go to a hardware store anyway

[autisticlancemcclain]

part one

———

Keith can feel it bubbling up inside him.

He’d like to think he’s grown to have a handle on it, the rage. It’s no longer his first reaction to things, no longer his response to everything. He’s not the little kid who trusted no one and hated himself for things that weren’t his fault anymore. He’s grown. He’s learnt to recognise how rarely he truly feels anger; how often it is pain, or sadness, or fear that he doesn’t know how to handle.

He knows this feeling is terror. He knows he is looking out into the endless, endless sea and quavering, in his mind, rendered mute at the future he may have, or lack thereof. What he is feeling is fear, at the roots of things.

But anger is all that’s bubbling up, anyway.

“Are you fucking serious!” he shouts, rattling the boat with the force of his rage. “You got us lost?!”

Luckily, or maybe unluckily considering their situation, Lance has never been the cowering type. He’s just as stubborn and headstrong as Keith, evident in the way he carefully sets down the useless GPS, jaw set, and turns to face Keith.

“I was not the only fool to inebriate myself in a largely unmanned vessel,” he shoots back. He’s doing that thing he does, when he’s furious, when he’s convinced he’d backed into a corner and on his own, where he speaks like a fucking decorated college professor so no one can accuse him of being stupid. ‘Lawyering up’, Keith has always called it. And usually it makes him sad on Lance’s behalf, knowing exactly the string of experience that has led him to that response, but right now it only pisses him off.

“Oh, cut the fucking bullshit, Lance. You were supposed to put down a fucking anchor!”

“I did!”

“Fucking obviously not!”

Lance’s fists clench, and a muscle jumps in his cheek from the tenseness of his jaw. His next words are growled, practically spat in Keith’s direction.

“I put a fucking anchor down, Kogane. It was the first thing I accomplished. It was a current anchor, and I’m certain I set it properly.”

Keith yells, wordless, just a loud shout so he doesn’t explode with everything inside him, gripping his hands in his hair so tightly it hurts. “Well, obviously fucking not, Lance, because I’m at fucking sea right now! Surrounded at all sides by fucking water!”

“How is it my fault that the anchor failed?” Lance shouts, finally cracking his careful composure. It satisfies Keith in a horrible kind of way, to see him just as frantic and furious as Keith is, no bullshit. “Huh? Want me to fucking take it up with the fuckers at the hardware store?”

“I’d love that, except you can’t, because you fucking got us lost!”

Something snaps in Lance’s expression, and he lunges forward, but before Keith can react, he brushes past him and dives overboard, crashing into the gentle waves. It takes Keith several seconds to fully register what the fuck just happened, and by the time he drops to his knees and leans over the side of the boat, Lance is several feet away and rapidly swimming farther.

“Lance!” he shouts, panic replacing the anger in his voice. The only thing worse than being stranded is being stranded by himself. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Lance pauses, treading water as he glances over his shoulder in Keith’s direction. “Avoiding doing something I regret, ” he says shortly. “I either shoved you or jumped myself. One of those is a significantly less shitty decision.”

Keith stares at him for a moment, then pinches the bridge of his nose, taking several seconds to exhale as long and loud and exasperated as he can. He’s almost annoyed to find a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth.

“Lance,” he says, pursing his lips, “get the fuck back here, you pillar of dumbass.”

For several minutes Lance doesn’t, likely just to out-stubborn him, but eventually gives in and paddles over. He pauses at the edge of the boat, reaching up one hand to steady himself and letting the rest of him just float.

“I’m not going to yell anymore,” Keith says after several moments. He means it, too; he knew yelling and fighting wouldn’t solve anything but chose his fury over his fondness for Lance, and he wishes he hadn’t.

Lance shakes his head before he can finish. “Nah, I think a little yelling was necessary. I did get us lost. Well, kind of. Fifty-fifty, I think.”

“Fifty-fifty?!” Keith responds indignantly. “I think the fuck not, Oh Captain My Caption! Eighty-twenty at best!”

“That’s absurd. Fifty one-forty nine.”

“That’s not a real offer, jackass. You just brought yourself back up to ninety-ten.”

Lance flicks a drop of water at him, grinning. “Sixty-forty?”

Keith sighs. “I’ll take it.” He holds out a hand. “Come up, dorkbrain.”

Lance grabs his hand, smile widening. Keith realises his mistake a milisecond too late.

“Oh, you motherfucker —”

Lance yanks him into the sea, cackling as he sputters sea water on his way back up. His cackles turn quickly to shouts of alarms, though, when he reads the murder in Keith’s expression, and quickly he books it, swimming as fast as he can to the opposite side of the boat. Keith chases him with full intent to drag him under and drown his bitch ass, but unfortunately Lance grew up with a fuckin’ mermaid tail, or whatever, and Keith has to call it when he genuinely starts to worry he might drown from exhaustion.

He grabs the rope on the side of the boat, heaving himself up until his elbows hook over the edge, legs dangling in the water. Lance mirrors him, still on the opposite end. Keith is gratified at least to find him panting, out of breath as well. The look at each other, and reach a wordless agreement, climbing back onto the boat and flopping on the floor. The take a minute, chests heaving, to catch their breaths, sobering as they look up at the cloudless sky and truly realize the predicament they’ve gotten themselves into.

“Well, it could be worse,” Lance says quietly. He continues before Keith can ask him how the fuck that could be. “I mean, I planned for this to happen. Not, like, I planned for it to actually happen to us, but I packed a bunch of emergency supplies on the off-chance that we would somehow get stranded.”

Keith raises his eyebrows. “Yeah? For how long?”

“Well, long as shit, I would suppose. I packed enough for six people to last a month.”

“So the two of us are set for God knows how long.”

They lapse into silence, both pondering the seriousness of their strandedness, the reality of the helpless situation they’re in. They have food and water, sure, and a few other survival things, but what about shelter? Something that’s not a hard boat to sleep on, or old pillows? What about when it gets cold at night, or it rains, or they run into something bigger than their boat? They’re totally lost, communications dashed, GPS unavailable, and honestly still a little hungover. They are, objectively, in for a fuckin’ rough one.

A hand reaches over and wraps around Keith’s, startling him from his thoughts. He looks over at Lance, but Lance looks pointedly away, gaze fixed firmly at the sky, something unreadable written on his face.

“You know, not that it fixes anything,” he starts quietly. He hesitates a moment, long enough that Keith opens his mouth to ask him to finish his sentence, before continuing. “But I’m grateful, at least, that it’s you I’m stuck with.”

His words hang in the air, a heavy blanket settling over them. Keith’s face heats. The tiniest of smiles pulls at his lips, and he squeezes Lance’s hand as he looks away.

“Yeah,” he whispers, “yeah, I lucked out there.”

#lots of cussing but i think it’s justified lol #we shall be moving onto the falling deeply in love prt next!!!! #vld #voltron #lance #lance mcclain #keith #keith kogane #klance #pre klance #lost at sea au #modern au #whipped keith #pining keith #pining lance #brown-eyed lance #i mention it in part one so #langst #keith angst #klangst #my writing #longpost

[startrekfangirl2233-writes]

Hiii!! I just came across your blog and I seen you are doing requests and that you hit over 100 followers. That’s amazing! Congratulations I was thinking about requesting one of your prompts!

#5 Person A kissing person B in the rain. With Jake

He knows the reader has always wanted to be kissed in the rain but the opportunity never comes til he tries to propose to her! And obviously she has yes! Mayjor fluffy!!

Again congratulations!!

Hi Elizabeth! Thanks so much for this request! It's kissing in the rain, and I know you'd mentioned Reader always wanting to be kissed in the rain, but I took it a bit differently! I hope you like it anyways! Here's Fluff Prompt 5 with Jake, Person A kissing person B in the rain.

Welcome Home

Nowadays, when you get asked what your favorite place to go in the world is, you’re not sure you’ll ever be able to name a place. In truth, your favorite place isn’t a place but rather any place you go with one specific person. Even trips to the grocery store or hardware store are fun when it’s with Jake by your side. Any trips you take, and domesticity you share with Jake are always on a timer controlled by the US Navy. But you still wouldn’t trade your relationship for anything in the world.

You’ll even willingly wake up early in the morning to fight San Diego traffic on the way to the waterfront in the middle of the worst rainstorm San Diego has ever seen to meet Jake’s aircraft carrier as it docks to bring your heart home. You’re not alone, either. So many people are waiting at the docks littering the pavement in small groups huddled under umbrellas. You know it’s to welcome family and friends home. 

Out of the fog shrouding the water, you finally see the hulking gray bulk of the ship as it approaches its’ berth. There are uniforms milling all around the upper deck. You’re immediately at attention, craning your eyes to look for a glimpse of aviator green among all the khaki-clad souls onboard. No matter how you search, you can’t see even a glimpse of him. From prior experience, you know the aviators are always the last off of the ship. But no matter how cold you are or how the rain is finding its way into your boots, you won’t move. It feels like your legs are frozen to the ground, stuck in a limbo zone of worries and tension until you can see his face again.

Finally, you can see the crowd of Navy personnel being dismissed. They leave the ship in waves. All around you, you can see the happy reunions around you. There are so many families in the crowd. Small children run to meet their fathers and mothers who have been serving for months away from home. There are very few dry eyes in sight. It makes you crave the opportunity to give him that, too. To see little legs toddle a small body right into Jake's arms. To see the smile on his face when he knows that he's home safe and sound with the people he loves most in the world.

Finally, the aviators disembark. They're a milling crowd of olive green flight suits. It's like divine intervention when a break in the crowd shows you Payback and Rooster. That's when you begin to jostle your way through the crowd. Your heart and mind are both fixated on one person. Your pace slows as you approach them, neck craning as you search for Jake. But he's not there. Your heart falls at the thought of a flag being all you have left of him. Phoenix sees you first. She must also see how your face falls because you’re soon being hugged tight.

"Hey, Natasha. How are you?" Your voice is barely loud enough to be heard over the rain pouring down.

"Hey! I’m doing alright. It was a long deployment. I still feel like I’m on board even when I’m standing on solid ground." She's smiling. She wouldn't be smiling at you if he was gone, right? "You're looking for Jake, huh?" She releases you from the hug and then turns you around. "Well, there he is."

It takes you a while to figure out what Natasha’s pointing at. You can’t comprehend what you’re seeing. It’s Jake alright, hale and hearty and whole. It’s that he’s on one knee in the pouring rain that you’re glazing at in shock. Your umbrella falls out of your hand as you step forward. You don’t care that you’re getting drenched. All you can see is Jake. 

“Hi, Cowboy.” Your voice is soft as you take his outstretched hand. “What’s all this?”

“This, sweetheart, is me telling you that I love you. I love coming home to you. I love seeing you every day, whether you’re in your pajamas or dressed up to go out. And I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you for accepting my life-long affair with the US Navy. Marry me? Make me the happiest man in the world?” You can’t hold back your sobs as you drop to your knees on the wet pavement and kiss him as fiercely as you can. 

“Is that a yes, darlin’?” You’re smiling at the huge grin on his face.

“Yes, it’s a yes, Jake! I will marry you!” You’re crying as he sets the ring on your finger before kissing you again. You can’t resist kissing him over and over again. Your knees are aching and stiff when you finally stand. You don’t care, though, not when you’ve got Jake wrapped around you and your friends all around you.

Your ebullient mood extends through the rest of the night. Though the squadron offers to buy drinks for you and Jake at the Hard Deck, you just want to get your fiance home. There’s also the little fact that both of you are drenched, and your teeth are already chattering from the cold. The rest of your night is easy as you pop dinner into the oven and enjoy spending time with your fiance. There will be time enough to call your families and share the happy news. The two of you are just happy to be in the same place at the same time again. The domestic bliss sinking through your veins is a feeling you want to keep for a long time. And thankfully for you, you can have it too, once you marry the love of your life. For now, you’ll stick to cuddling into Jake’s arms and sleeping for once easily.

Want to request something for my 100 Follower Celebration? The guidelines are here! Please leave me a request in my inbox with your ask!

- XOXO Star

#star writes #100 follower celebration #top gun fanfic #top gun maverick fanfic #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun imagine #top gun fluff #jake hangman seresin x reader #hangman x reader #jake seresin x reader #hangman imagine #hangman fluff

[burningupp]

Fated Friends | lmh

skz masterlist

pairing: lee minho x f!reader

warnings: female reader (i'm sorry, i promise to branch out one day), reader has a kid, heavily based off of gilmore girls bc it's my comfort show, slight health scare, not proofread lol

summary: minho isn't a very outwardly emotional guy, and honestly, he's come to be comfortable that way. weird how the kind of person he's sure to be the bane of his existence ends up breaking that habit, huh?

a/n: this is going to be at least two parts... yeah. i'm sorry. anyway i hope you enjoy this, whatever it is. also, sorry for any eventual grammar mistakes; i am not a native english speaker, so be gentle with me pls 🙏 also, i have had this as a wip for a while so using this as an excuse to complete the november clownracha prompt! @wooyussy @sunnytaes

The diner was busy. Minho hadn’t been running it for that long, just two years and some change, but it had still become somewhat of a staple in their little town. There were regulars who came in almost every day for at least one meal, and even though he might not show it outwardly, he really enjoyed making them food they seemed to appreciate.

There was a routine to it all, and it made him feel safe. The first six months he’d had absolutely no idea what he was doing, and it had been terrifying. Once he got past the insecurity, he’d felt good. He had managed to do what his father had done before him and run a successful business. Granted, his father had been running a hardware store before he died, not a diner, but it was close enough in his mind.

Once a year had passed, he started to feel bored instead of good. He loved his diner, and he loved running it, but he felt like there was no excitement in his life (unless you counted burning himself on oil from the deep fryer, of course - that had definitely led him to an eventful few weeks without the use of his left hand). Since he was running his own business, there was practically no rest for him. He had taken a total of two days off since starting the diner, but only because he actually did have to go to the hospital (courtesy of the fryer-incident) and the dentist.

The days that the diner was busy were good. There was no time to think about how he missed fishing and camping, how he hadn’t flirted with a woman since all this started, and much less been on a date with one. There had been a few customers, mostly tourists passing through, who had flirted with him before. He had always been generally awkward, stuttering his way through the interaction and then suffered through the teasing of the older women who lived in the small town and had known him since he was in diapers. It was great, obviously.

And then someone showed up and broke his routine entirely.

It was a busy day, the town selectman had been arranging a festival of some sort to “encourage tourism” which meant that Minho had a whole lot more customers than usual. He was running around taking and delivering orders, refilling coffees, and wiping down tables as fast as he could. He inwardly sighs when he hears the bell over the door ring again, because as much as he loves running a successful business, he’s busy enough as it is.

“I’ll be with you in a moment,” he says over his shoulder as he’s wiping down a table.

“No but see, I don’t have a moment,” a woman’s voice says back, a sort of panicky twinge to it that makes him turn around to look at her.

She’s gorgeous. Her eyes are shining in the sunlight streaming through the windows, and her hair is a tangled mess. Her clothing is a bit rumpled, and she’s not wearing any make-up, but suddenly the urge to flirt has returned to him from the dead. Then he hears the bell signaling food is ready, and he’s snapped out of his brief stupor.

“Yeah, well,” he starts, moving toward the two plates readily waiting for him on the counter, “neither do I. Wait or go somewhere else for coffee.”

Once he’s grabbed the food and turned around to give it to the customers at one of the tables in the corner, he is immediately stopped in his tracks as the woman is standing two feet in front of him with a gleam in her eyes that somehow both intrigues and terrifies him.

“No but you don’t understand,” she starts, and Minho heaves a sigh as he dodges around her to actually complete the order delivery, “my coffee machine at home broke, and my five-year-old is sick so I had to stay up all night, and the coffee at work has run out and so I am here, desperately begging you for like five cups of coffee before I collapse in a heap on the street and it’s all your fault.”

The woman follows him to the table and keeps incessantly nagging, and the only thing he can think is wait, she has a five-year-old? She doesn’t look older than 20 or so, if even that. At least that gave him a reason to stop looking at her beautiful eyes, stop his stupid heart from wanting him to talk and flirt with her, because he cannot handle a kid. He kind of hates kids, honestly - they’re always sticky, and never have intelligent answers to anything, and always get on his nerves.

“Listen, it sounds like your day isn’t going particularly well and I have the utmost sympathy for that having had a few bad ones myself, but I have a diner full of hungry people, so if coffee is all you want I’m gonna have to ask you to wait.”

At this, the woman gasps out loud, her eyes widening and jaw dropping indignantly.

“Excuse you? Just coffee? This is classism! Discrimination! You’re the one who serves coffee in the first place, which I know by the way because I saw someone with a take-away cup with your logo on it, and if you don’t want my business then I guess I should just leave.”

This makes Minho snort out loud and turn to her bemusedly. “Fine by me.”

She lets out another indignant gasp and goes up to the counter, grabbing a newspaper that’s just lying there. He hears the bell signaling another order is done, and goes to fetch the plates, but he keeps her in the corner of his eye.

“You,” she says when he walks past her to take another order, “what’s your zodiac sign?”

He stops in his tracks and turns to stare at her. What in the world was this woman even doing in here? She must be some kind of crazy. Or many kinds, he mutters in his own head.

“Well if you’re not gonna tell me, I’m just going to assume which one,” she says defiantly, staring at him for a moment before huffing. “Okay, taurus it is then.” She then grabs a pen, writes something on the section of horoscopes in the newspaper and tears it out, holding it out to him. “Take it,” she says when he just keeps staring.

“Why should I?” He asks in confusion, and she huffs again.

“Because you should read your horoscope, of course,” she says in a tone that implies he’s being an idiot. Boy, does he feel like one when he takes the note. It says Give the crazy woman a cup of coffee, or she’ll never leave you alone. 

“What is this?” He asks exasperatedly, spotting the customers wanting to order becoming impatient.

“It’s your horoscope, duh,” she replies, rolling her eyes at him. “You should do what it says and keep it, I’ve heard that horoscopes have been updated to be the same every day from now on.”

“Every- just fix your coffee-maker, or better yet, get a new one!” Minho finds himself yelling back, and the woman just smirks at him.

“No, I like my old one, my kid put googly eyes on it and we named him Lambert. Now get me my coffee so I can get back to work on time!” Minho stares at her for a bit longer. “You do know that if you’d just given me the coffee when I asked for it I would have been gone already, right?”

He realizes that she’s right, even though he hates to admit it. He gives her a stern glance and goes to take the couple in the corner’s order first before quickly pouring four cups of coffee and handing them to her in a cardboard tray.

Once she gets them, she gives him a huge smile that makes his stomach do a flip before grabbing them and running out the door - not before giving him more money than the coffee is worth. He huffs, staring after her through the window for a moment before being pulled back to reality by the loud clearing of a throat - a customer wants to order.

A few days later, it’s the middle of the afternoon lull. All the dishes are done, all unused tables are cleared, and Minho is filling salt and pepper shakers at the counter when the bell above the door signals that someone entered the diner. He looks up and immediately regrets it when he sees the crazy woman from before accompanied by a little kid.

He begrudgingly has to admit, he had been thinking about her a lot. Her eyes had been so captivating, and the smile she had given him before leaving had made him feel completely out of his depth somehow. Every time he poured a cup of coffee for someone, all he could think about was her. Which is crazy, because he doesn’t even know her name.

This time, her hair is let down and styled in gentle waves. Her clothes aren’t rumpled, and she’s wearing make-up. And yet, the one thing that pulls Minho in is her eyes. Well, that and her absolute angel of a kid. The kid’s eyes are the exact same shade as her mother’s, her cheeks round and rosy, her hair long and neatly brushed, and her bag so full of books it hangs slightly open due to the zipper not being able to close all the way around the sheer volume of them. Her mother helps her hop onto a chair at a table, taking the bag and placing it on the floor. The little girl immediately reaches to grab a book out of it, but her mother snatches it mid-air and places it on the other side of her own chair, out of her daughter’s reach.

“But mom,” the little girl whines with such an adorable pout Minho is sure he would have given in after 0.2 seconds flat, but the woman just shakes her head.

“I know you want to read, and I’m really really glad about that, but we’re gonna be eating now, honey. You don’t want those library books to get all sticky, now do you?”

At her mother’s words, the little girl gasps and shakes her head. It’s the cutest thing he’s seen all day. “I would never let them! That’s gross, and I would probably be fined!” Then she gasps again, her eyes even wider than before. “Would it get put in a record somewhere?!”

Minho expects her mother to simply calm her down, tell her that she probably won’t be put on some list of wrong-doers and that, even if she was put on one, it wouldn’t have any consequences other than a $2 fine.

“Oh yes, you’ll be put on a record. It might even go to the police,” is what she says instead, and Minho blanches. Aren’t you supposed to comfort kids instead of scare them?

“No way,” the little girl says, eyes still wide as saucers.

“Yes way,” her mother says with a straight face and a playful tone. “They’ll put you on a list, and then they will forward it to the police, and they will pay to have a man with a camera to follow you around and take pictures whenever you make a mess. Then all those pictures will be sent to Harvard when you apply.”

The story is ridiculous, and yet… Minho finds himself smiling. It’s kind of funny. Then he starts to fear that the kid is going to cry. He really can’t handle children crying, he hates the sound of it and never knows how to fix it so he gets all panicky and ends up leaving most of the time. (It also kind of breaks his heart, but no one needs to know that.) However, the little girl doesn’t cry. Instead, she grins at her mother.

“Ah yes, whatever shall I do.”

At her response, her mother huffs happily and ruffles her daughter’s hair. The little girl opens a menu and starts browsing through it, looking remarkably concerned as she reads it over. Her mother starts looking around, and suddenly locks eyes with him. She smiles awkwardly. That’s when Minho pulls himself together and realizes he should go take their order. He clears his throat and walks over to their table.

“You’re back,” he remarks in a monotone.

“Ah, yeah,” she says, looking down at her hands on the table. “What are the chances I didn’t act quite as crazy as I remember? Because what is crazy when you think about it, you know?”

“Well, I’m not a doctor, but I would say you qualify,” Minho answers before he really registers what’s going through his head. He freezes, scared that he offended her. She might get on his nerves (kind of), but he doesn’t want to be mean nonetheless. He might lose a customer, after all.

“I agree,” the little girl chimes in, looking up from the menu and grinning at Minho so brightly he’s sure it could have blinded him. He feels his heart squeeze tight. “Mom gets crazy when she doesn’t get her coffee.”

“Hm, well I don’t think you’re old enough to know whether I’m crazy or not, missy,” the woman responds, sticking her tongue out at her daughter, which the little girl does right back.

“I read more than you do, so I would say I am more qualified to make a judgment on that than you are,” the woman’s daughter bites back with a sarcastic grin, and Minho just stares as the woman rolls her eyes and calls her daughter a nerd under her breath with a proud smile through it all.

Having to move on for the sake of his sanity (because if he gets any more opportunities to stare at the woman’s eyes and demeanor and general presence he will absolutely lose it - out of frustration or attraction is unclear), he clears his throat a little and raises the notepad and pencil he has at the ready to take their orders.

“Oh, right,” the woman sighs, grabbing a menu and flipping through it quickly. “I’ll have a cheeseburger with fries, a milkshake, a grilled cheese, two donuts and a cup of coffee. Hana?”

Minho just blankly stares at the woman, shocked at the amount of food she had ordered just for herself. It’s 4pm and she ordered food for at least two people? Then again, he muses to himself, she did have a kid so there was probably a husband around somewhere. Maybe they were meeting up and having an early dinner before the town meeting that night?

He tries not to think too hard about the notion of her having a husband; it’s stupid to be disappointed, especially when he still doesn’t know her name or really anything about her except for her crippling caffeine addiction.

“I want a cheeseburger, too,” the little girl - Hana - says thoughtfully, chewing on her lip. “Oh, and can I have extra fries, please?” He can’t say no to her adorable angel-like face (just as he predicted), and just nods, so she continues. “I also want a milkshake and a chocolate muffin, please.”

Her bizarre order goes over his head first, as he is distracted by the little girl’s impeccable manners and the thought that maybe, just maybe, all children aren’t demons, but then he registers what she said and raises his eyebrows as high as they can go.

“Are you sure? That’s a lot of food,” he points out gently. She thinks for a second, chewing on her bottom lip again, and then nods firmly.

“Yes, please,” she says, and he just nods.

“Okay then,” Minho says, half expecting her mother to chime in and tell her that no, it’s a Wednesday and she can’t have that many sweets, but nothing comes aside from an indulging smile.

He goes to the kitchen, tearing the page he had written on out of his notepad  and handing it to the chef dazedly. Then he turns around to look at the table again, and just stares. There was no way that little girl could eat that much food, was there?

As it turns out, there was. Minho watches in astonished horror as the sweet angelic little girl puts away a cheeseburger, extra fries, a milkshake and a chocolate muffin. Who really takes the cake, however, is Hana’s mother. His theory about the father joining them had evidently been entirely false, as the food that already had been a tall order for thwo people to consume had been completely devoured by no one except a mid-sized woman and her tiny six-year-old. On top of that, halfway through their meal, the older woman had ordered an extra plate of chili fries. How in the world those were gone in ten minutes, Minho would never know, and he is pretty happy that he can escape that knowledge.

When they are done eating, Hana’s mother patiently helps her wipe down their table so she can take out her homework and get started on it. She then looks around until she finds Minho and waves at him to come over with a smile. He ignores the somersault his stomach does at the gesture.

“Want to pay?” he asks, fully expecting that to be the case.

“Uhm, not yet. Could I just have another cup of coffee?” the woman asks, and he decides enough is enough.

“You do know caffeine is horrible for your health, right? So are burgers, fries, chili fries even more so, donuts and milkshakes,” he points out, fully expecting a screaming match. To his surprise, the woman just smiles brighter.

“Sure I know that. So, my cup of coffee?”

He just blinks in pure astonishment. He then turns around and goes behind the counter to grab the pot of coffee, returning to their table to fill her cup. Then the little girl looks up.

“Excuse me mister, what’s your name?”

The way the little girl has him wrapped around her finger already is terrifying. His heart is melting, he feels the urge to be all sappy and ask her about school, her friends and her hobbies, and play games with her or something. Whatever would make her smile. He has no idea where that urge came from.

“Uh, it’s Lee Minho,” he answers dumbly, looking down into those innocently sparkling eyes.

“Okay. Mr. Lee, could I have some orange soda, please? I’m a bit thirsty,” she says, and he feels the need to save the poor girl from her mother’s habits. Not really, but he is a healthy man himself, and he wants a kid like her to live a long, healthy and happy life.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer some water, then?” he asks gently, but when she shakes her head, he just sighs. “Coming right up. Oh, and you can just call me Minho.”

“Okay. Thank you, Minho. My name is Hana, and this is my mom Y/n. It’s nice to meet you,” she beams at him, and he feels himself melt once more. Damn it.

“Nice to meet you too, Hana,” he says and goes to fetch her soda.

Since that first afternoon the L/N girls visited his diner, Minho sees them at least three times a week for the next 3 years. Well, he sees Y/n pretty much every morning for her regular coffee fix. Apparently they did manage to fix Lambert, but apparently his coffee was “better than anything Lambert could ever make.” They told him vehemently that Lambert could never know this, and he had to keep it a secret from him. They both now greet him by name, and they usually have a quick chat about what’s going on, just like he does with some other regulars.

Then again, he can’t exactly claim that he is quite as interested in the other regulars as he is in the mother-daughter duo. He asks them about work and school, and they pull him into their debates over stupid stuff (that Hana almost always wins), and he finds himself enjoying it. It must be something about their positive outlook on life, or how crazy smart Hana is, or just about how excited they are about seemingly dull and boring things. They talked about the little town’s makeshift cinema as if it was entertainment of the highest degree, better than most things you can do in big cities, despite it being someone’s living room with a cheap projector and a popcorn machine. He does not understand it, but it sure is refreshing.

He’s still just as smitten with Hana as he was the first day, if not more. She’s intelligent and funny, and even though she does certain childish things, she largely feels like an innocent grown-up. He had once asked her about a book she was reading, which turned into a (one-sided) debate on different classical writers and their influence on both society and one another, and he was lost in the first minute. He briefly wondered if her mother had any idea what she was talking about, but it quickly became clear that she did not.

Then one day, only Y/n comes bursting through the door of the diner, during mid-morning no less. She is almost frantic, breathing hard and fast, eyes wild and hair ruffled.

“Minho!” she exclaims when she sees him, body sagging in relief. “I need your help.”

He immediately sets down the pot of coffee, walking towards her with furrowed brows. “What’s wrong?”

“My coffee?” a customer says impatiently.

“Bite me,” Minho responds over his shoulder without hesitation.

“It’s Hana,” she breathes, tears welling in her eyes. Minho puts a hand on her shoulder as he feels his heart speed up to a truly concerning pace. He doesn’t know if he’s trying to make her feel better, or if it’s purely to steady himself, but he thinks it doesn’t matter. “She-she has this, uhm… this stomach ache, and a really, really high fever, a-and it won’t go away and I was, uhm, I was reading this book, and,” a breath leaves her in a whoosh before she gulps down another one, “and it said something about if pressure on her stomach makes her feel better, she should go to the hospital because it might be appendicitis so I was going to take her to the hospital, but my stupid car won’t s-start and I need…” she stops and takes a deep breath, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment before looking at him with absolute fire in her eyes. “I need you to take us. Please.”

Minho’s brain is going a mile a minute. He thinks about nothing except for that poor girl in pain. He thinks about how awful he feels whenever he has a fever, and how much worse it must be for such a tiny, innocent little girl. And then he thinks about whether or not she’s staying warm despite her high temperature, because he heard something about keeping the temperature up helping the body beat viruses and bacteria and making you healthy faster. And then he thinks about what he should be doing in this position, because he’s never been a father bef-

And then he stops. He stops and thinks about the fact that he is not her father. He is not the person who should be worrying like this. He is not the person Y/n should be turning to, because she should have a support system in her husband, and he wonders why in the world her husband isn’t currently breaking a million traffic laws speeding down the highway to get his daughter into capable hands. And then…

He doesn’t like to think about it too much, but sometimes he can’t stop himself. Mainly when it’s late at night, and the town is quiet, and all he can hear is the hum of his broiler and the light shifting of the sheets whenever he breathes. That’s when he can’t stop his mind from imagining. Imagining being Hana’s father. God, how proud he would be. He imagines walking her to school, buying her gifts for her birthday and spoiling her without spoiling her too much because he still wants her to be a rational adult some day. He imagines cooking for her, imagines the day he gets her absolute favorite food right, and the way that Y/n would be in the kitchen while he cooks, sitting at the kitchen table in the house they would have, talking absolute nonsense with their daughter. He imagines waking up in the middle of the night to the sound of Hana getting a glass of water in the kitchen, only to roll over in bed and find Y/n, his wife, right there, sleeping soundly beside him.

That’s usually when he stops himself. But this time, he imagines that whole situation. And then he imagines Y/n, his (hypothetical) wife, asking another man to help her take his sick daughter to the hospital, and he can’t do it. So he does what he has been so diligently avoiding, and asks her.

“What about her father?”

Minho’s voice is gentle, and he looks into Y/n’s eyes just as softly. He wants her to understand that he would do absolutely anything for Hana, hell, he would do anything for her because he has no doubts that he is so in love with her he would marry her on the spot even though they’ve barely broached the basics about one another, but in this particular instant he really does not want to step on any toes.

But then, she scoffs. She scoffs at him, rolls her eyes, and her jaw clenches a bit. It’s a clear signal to him that her father is most likely not an option at the moment.

“Okay I know we haven’t talked about this and we really should, and I promise you we will, but please can we talk about it when my daughter is not in excruciating pain and needs her mommy? Please?”

So he lets go of all his preconceived notions and nods. He squeezes her shoulder once, then turns around and grabs his keys. He doesn’t even glance into the kitchen as he yells for his chef, Felix, to handle things for the rest of the day, even though he hears a startled and confused shout right before the door swings shut behind the pair of them, because he thinks that as long as Hana and Y/n are okay, his business could burn down for all he cares.

They get to the hospital okay, and Hana is immediately ushered into an exam room and then to an operating room. Minho isn’t in the exam room with them, but he does go to see the little girl off before the surgery.

“I’m scared,” she whispers to her mother, eyes shiny with unshed tears, but her mother just shushes her with a calm smile.

“That’s okay. I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere except for the waiting room and maybe the cafeteria until you can come home with me.”

“Even if Channing Tatum asks you on a date right now?”

“Mm, I would have to consider it, but I think that if Channing can’t wait, we weren’t meant to be anyhow,” Y/n teases her daughter who just giggles in response. Then Hana turns to Minho.

“Thank you for driving us,” she says meekly, and he feels his heart twist and crush into a ball in his chest. “You really didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to, little one,” he smiles gently, and she reaches out a hand to him which he grasps immediately. “Thank you for letting me see you off before your surgery.”

“I’m glad you did,” she says back, eyes a little less teary. Then she gets a thoughtful look on her face. “Do you think I’ll have a cool scar?”

He can’t help himself and scoffs a little laugh, squeezing her hand encouragingly. He sees Y/n smile too, and he has somehow never felt as complete as he does in that exact moment. It scares him. It’s not real. But he will keep pretending for as long as he can.

“The coolest,” he answers before the doctors let them know that the OR is ready for them.

Minho and Y/n walk out to the waiting room and sink onto the chairs heavily. He is briefly impressed by how well she seemed to be handling everything, before he turns to her and sees her shaking, tears streaming down her face. She seems to be holding her breath, too, probably not wishing to openly sob in a hospital waiting room.

He briefly considers his options of hugging her or not before deciding that screw it, she needs comfort and he’s there so he will provide it for her. He smiles gently despite his heart breaking in his chest at her tears, and gets in front of her to half-crouch so he can give her a hug.

For a second he worries that he overstepped her boundaries, but then he feels her completely melt into his embrace and bury her face in his shoulder to muffle the sobs she no longer can hold back and shield her tear-streaked face from the other people in the room. She relaxes so much that they almost fall onto the floor, and Minho decides that it’s best to just pick her up in his arms and settle on one of the chairs with her in his lap.

It’s a horrible moment. She’s crying, sobbing, shaking, and he can’t do anything except hold her there. The woman who was so strong, so determined and so unique just crumbled in his arms like a tower of sand. He doesn’t say anything, just holds her. He puts a hand on the back of her head, the other remaining around her waist as she sits horizontally across his lap. He gently squeezes whenever her sobs get louder or her breathing picks up, just reminding her that he is there and he will remain there until she asks him not to.

After twenty minutes or so, her crying subsides into regular sniffling, and he feels her pull back from his shoulder to wipe at her face with the sleeve of her shirt. Then she clears her throat and sits up a bit straighter on his lap.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, voice still shaky.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m just happy to help,” Minho says sincerely.

And it is sincere. There is nothing that has ever fulfilled him more than this moment, helping and feeling useful and needed and wanted. It’s a sad moment, awful even, but he feels like there is nowhere else he would rather be either way.

He has come to terms with the fact that he views Hana as family. He sees her so often, and she always talks to him, listens to what he has to say almost as if she admires him, and it fills his heart more than anything. When she gets full points on her homework, as she always does, no one (except her mother) is more proud than he is. As long as he gets to be in her life, he is happy.

“God, I’m sorry for bursting in there and just babbling and making you take us,” Y/n breathes out as if she didn’t hear him. “You really didn’t have to, but I pushed and now you probably hate us bo-”

“Impossible,” he interrupts, and Y/n stops rambling. “You two are part of my routine now. I care, you know?”

She gazes at him in shock, searching for any trace of insincerity. When she doesn’t find one, her face slowly melts into a fond smile despite the fear still present on her face. He briefly thinks that she never looked more beautiful, although he’s pretty sure he thinks that every time he lays eyes on her.

“Thank you, Minho,” she sighs out, slumping a bit again.

She seems to realize she’s still firmly positioned on his lap, and immediately gets up, clearing her throat. He immediately mourns the loss of her weight on him, but doesn’t say anything.

“So, I think I promised you a talk about Hana’s dad,” she says after a few moments of silence.

“Oh, that,” Minho says, suddenly feeling like a douche. “Look, if you don’t want to talk about it, you don’t have to. It has nothing to do with me anyway. I just wanted to make sure I don’t… make a situation uncomfortable.”

Y/n snorts, and he immediately shuts up. What’s that supposed to mean? Did he say something stupid?

“Minho, how many times have we been at your diner in the past few years?” she starts, an unreadable look on her face. He thinks it’s unnatural how she manages to look beautiful even in hospital lighting. “I can’t count the amount of times. If her dad was around, don’t you think that he would have shown up, or we would have mentioned him at least once?”

He casts his mind back over the years, and realizes it might have been a stupid question. Then again, some fathers weren’t very present in their children’s lives. Maybe he lived out of the country, or he worked night shifts so he was always asleep during the day. He had no way of knowing.

“I don’t know,” he answers after a few moments. “Some people are just like that, I guess.”

She slowly nods, mulling over his words for a second. “I suppose,” she then says, smiling faintly. “He kind of is, actually. Either way, to set the record straight; her father - Changbin - isn’t in the picture.” When he failed to mask his intrigue at the answer, she just laughed a little. “I got pregnant at 16. He wanted to get married, but I didn’t. Kind of glad now, to be honest - I doubt he will ever grow up.” Her words hold an edge of irritation, but she is evidently trying to push that feeling back. “He talks to Hana on the phone sometimes, when he gets the time. Last we talked I’m pretty sure he said he was in Ibiza? It doesn’t really matter. I have Hana, and she has me, and we’re okay like this. We learned not to expect too much from him long ago - not that we were expecting much in the first place.”

Minho listens until Y/n stops talking. He struggles a bit to figure out what he thinks of the situation. At least the man had offered to do the right thing, he supposes. Then again, from the sound of it Y/n had made the right decision in not marrying that guy, whoever he is. He comes to the conclusion that it doesn’t actually matter. Like she said, the two of them have one another, and if they say that’s enough, then he believes them.

“Okay. Thank you for telling me, and letting me know I wasn’t severely pissing some dude off for acting like a father to his daughter for a few hours,” he jokes mildly, and then regrets it. He shouldn’t have said father. Just because he sees Hana as a sort of surrogate daughter does not mean that she or her mother feel the same way, or even think that it’s okay.

But then Y/n smiles softly again, and he can relax. “Yeah. She’s lucky to have someone who does.”

His heart feels like it’s beating in his throat, his body warm from the inside due to all the feelings filling his chest. God, he wishes he had the courage to offer to do it always, to move in and help Y/n with raising her daughter because he knows that she must have it hard at times, no matter how angelic Hana is. But he doesn’t. So he just nods and smiles.

#lee know x reader #skz minho #stray kids x reader #stray kids x you #stray kids x y/n #skz x reader #skz x you #skz x y/n #lee know x you #lee know x y/n #lee minho x reader #lee minho x you #lee minho x y/n #stray kids fic #stray kids fluff #stray kids angst #skz fic #skz lee know #skz fluff #skz angst #clownracha monthly

[fractualized]

Hoo boy. TMWSL #11 dropped a bomb today. Or a potential bomb? There's still one issue to go.

I'll just get into it.

(big ol' spoilers and SO MANY explosions)

We open with Sewer Rat Joker in the middle of kidnapping several Gothamites.

I'm not sure about that guy on the left, but the lil goon on the right is freaking Albert, the dying kid from the hospital, just… tagging along? I love it.

The janitor is loaded into a van with a few others, and "a few blocks away"…

LA Joker's got a bun now!

That is not Mr. Waffles holding an umbrella to protect the bun from the rain. Waffles is elsewhere on his own special task. At first it's like, aw, I'd like Waffles to be attending to the boss like this. But, uh, we'll learn soon it's actually better that Waffles is otherwise occupied.

Anyway, this Joker has been looking and looking and looking for his counterpart, who's managed to elude capture even while while most of his henchmen have been taken out. And this failure is not looking good on LA Joker, who is very frustrated!

It's so funny that the man they're looking for is nearby in an unmarked van. So maybe the goon who Joker threatened actually deserves it when Joker tells the others to throw him off a bridge. 😬

Joker goes back into the warehouse where Killer Moth is watching TV.

Come on, he's just putting on a show!

Before we find out what Sewer Rat Joker is up to, we cut to Manhunter investigating the van he was using. But he, his crew, and his captives are gone. Ravager is there with information from Jason.

Wait wait wait. Is… Is Jason gone because of the Gotham War thing? Are these supposed to be happening at the same time?? I know Knight Terrors indicated that the events in Batman happen around the same time, but this issue has to take place while Bruce is asleep for two months post Knight Terrors. Right? The goings-on in TMWSL couldn't have been paused for that long. It also doesn't make any goddamn sense, because in Gotham War Selina has supposedly enlisted like 95% of the henchmen, and Jason is acting like he has no clue what's going on with Joker, and nobody is talking about all this Joker-related stuff going on. Like obviously this was never going to end with Jason killing Joker, so I was just assuming Gotham War happens after TMWSL with Jason still on the hunt, but... Good lord, Jason better show up in #12, or I'm going to lose my freakin' mind.

We get a panel showing that Mr. Waffles is watching the two women before we cut to midtown.

Now you think, oh, Sewer Rat Joker is still clothed and not naked, so what's his plan? But then he unleashes a hoard of goons and mid-level rogues on the cops, and you realize this is actually LA Joker, suddenly dressed down in a very similar way to Sewer Rat Joker. I assumed this was for some sort of "Shoot him!" // "No, shoot him!" situation later, but… you'll see.

Hee hee, Moth is using his wings to protect himself from the rain and it looks so cute.

Aw, Joker. :( Don't be so mean to the henchmen. At least it wasn't Waffles.

We don't have to wonder what the purpose of the mess is, because back at the warehouse:

Distraction action! This is not a good issue for henchmen, I gotta tell ya.

Uh… sure, Albert. Good guys.

Also, regarding the newcast, is Joker somewhat diminished "in recent years"?? Joker War wasn't that long ago, even less long ago in-universe, I think. Maybe it just means more rogues are stepping up as larger figures, like Bane and Scarecrow, and I guess Failsafe the angsty robot since if that happened before Knight Terrors, then he's a known quantity here.

Meanwhile, the reportedly naked Joker is not so naked.

I'll never not enjoy confused conversations.

Killer Moth gets a report that the warehouse is radio silent, and that someone spotted the imposter in Chinatown at a hardware store. And then…

See, if Mr. Waffles had been hanging with Joker, he might be dead! For real this time!

This shit is why most henchmen must work with Joker because of obsessive reasons, not for money.

Joker and Moth's amazing escape is not very triumphant.

As they hurtle to the ground, we check back in with Manhunter at the warehouse.

Sewer Rat Joker has also done a costume change! Presumably it's part of him retaking his place as the Rightful Joker. So if there's not going to be outfit confusion, I suppose the other Joker just changed for… comfort?

But there is still confusion for Manhunter, who refers to events in Los Angeles, but if course this Joker says he hasn't been there in a long time.

Albert's parents really should have explained to him who the Joker is.

So LA Joker has forced Killer Moth to walk with him to Chinatown to pick up on the imposter's trail, and they meet up with their remaining henchmen. "Remaining" because of all the ones that died at the train wreck, and some other casualties. They also give Joker the bad news that, like Clayface, basically all the villains that were helping him (Zsasz, Firefly, KGBeast, etc) took off because of how badly this search is going. But Joker will press on! He orders the henchmen into the hardware store to get the imposter.

At least we're all having fun heading toward the finale!

Back at the warehouse standoff, Manhunter has a realization.

Joker has definitely murdered pizza boys. Also, aw, he misses Jason. :( Sadly, Jason isn't who shows up to Manhunter's rescue.

Seriously, if Gotham War is the reason Jason isn't here, and he's not present to close this title out, I'm going to be so annoyed. No shade on Ravager and Manhunter, but we started with Jason. This should finish with Jason. Jason helping Selina for nonsensical reasons is a terrible reason for him to not be here hunting the guy he's been obsessed with for 10 issues.

Sigh. Anyway, Joker sics some poor toxin'd doppelgangers on the women before he escapes with Albert.

Buzzing? THAT'S THE SECRET WORD!

Alright, because of the spy adventure, Mr. Waffles cut it a little close this time, but look at the bright side. Now he meets up with the real deal at last!

Ooh, more hints of the real story, as Waffles lore, heck yeah. The henchman was Mr. Waffles' buddy? Was it just like the "flashback" in the last issue, or different?

Wait, what? WHAT? WHAAAAAAAAAAAOkay okay okay okay. That's a big dang reveal, but there's still one issue left. Can't let the instinct to trust our beloved Mr. Waffles toss aside the options for the final issue:

1) This is all true. Sewer Rat Joker has actually been the imposter all the long, despite his elaborate dream with Batman making that seem silly. EXCEPT. John Keyser not knowing that Batman is Bruce Wayne would be an explanation for why he treated them as two separate people in the dream. Even though there was still an obvious link by putting Bruce in the TKJ outfit and having him behave erratically. Regardless, maybe Keyser really is that deep in. (Though if Joker used the brainwashing technology revealed in Task Force X, I think Keyser would know about Bruce Wayne, putting the explanation back at Weird Dream Thing.)

2) Waffles is straight-up lying to save his own life from a pissed off boss. The reason he's so buddy-buddy with LA Joker is because they were buddies before the transformation.

3) Waffles is being truthful, except something happened during the creation of the second Joker that caused John and Joker to switch places, and Waffles just doesn't realize it.

And I'm hoping #2 or #3 is correct. LA Joker had some fun moments (particularly his relationship with Waffles), but I'm definitely more attached to the underdog, the Joker who had that great nightmare and whose inner thoughts we've been privy to. I wasn't at all expecting Joker to have drastic character development or a heel-face turn or the like, but if it turns out that all those vulnerable moments treating Joker as a three-dimensional character instead of a flat, only-evil-and-nothing-but villain are not about him but some delusional henchman… Hrm. HRM. I know it's gonna bug me. It's gonna bug me a lot.

Whatever happens, I'm just hoping Rosenberg sticks the landing.

Oh, and as a side note, unless there was another henchman involved in this mysterious gas experiment, none of this appears to explain who the Joker appearing in Batman Inc was. Theoretically that could've been LA Joker having some fun on the side when he was away, but there's been nothing in the text saying so. I'm getting the strong feeling that, with how unconcerned DC has been with establishing a clear timeline for their intersecting titles, we're never going to get an answer. Or they'll somehow blame the damn omniverse.

#the man who stopped laughing #joker #spoilers #my jibber-jabber

[queenofzan]

so @centralkvetchmonolith drove me to a hardware store out in the suburbs yesterday so i could get the rest of my spinning wheel supplies (plus some tools that will make the spinning wheel build easier and also just improve my life to have, like chisels, sharpening stones, and a little mini bench vise that fits on my desk) and i was talking about how uhhh i'm going to end up foraging fiber plants from public spaces lmao and she asked, how do you prepare nettles to eat, anyway

which i didn't know but i looked up when i got home AND

most people eat only the leaves! preferring the newer growth bc after it's too old it tastes bitter! but the fiber part comes from the STALKS which obviously you can just let grow and grow until the end of the season and get some nice fiber from

so nettles are not only a fiber plant AND an edible plant, but they are a "use all parts of the plant" deal where you can nom those fresh leaves and let the stalks grow until they're as tall as you are before you stomp on them and turn them into thread or yarn

that's so cool why the heck do we use other plants in areas where nettles grow super well???

#the answer is of course capitalism #but it's so frustrating #cotton takes SO MUCH WATER and EFFORT to grow #nettles grow in damp disturbed ground really well and tbh doesn't take more effort to process #also idk if this is true but the u at least classifies nettles as an invasive species in minnesota so like #harvest away my friend

[almost-a-class-act]

Happy Pacific appreciation week!

Prompt: Day 3 ( February 8th ): Underrated characters Author's note: Could it be, me posting a fic on the day of the prompt before midnight? We're all surprised! I wrote about Lena, because she is criminally underrated in my opinion. Anyway, as with the first two this will probably end up on AO3 after I have some time to go over it again. You can find me there under roaroftheninth.

--

Lena will live for much longer in John’s aftermath than she ever did with him. It’s the kind of thing that will lay you straight out, if you let it – if you think about it too much. Not prone to fits of emotion, or to falling apart, she nevertheless knows better than to issue herself that particular challenge.

She tries not to think about it too much.

When their first wedding anniversary comes, he’s been gone for five months already, an interminable amount of time that is somehow, unbelievably, only a fraction of a lifetime – five months down, and so, so many more to go. Lucy goes with her into town – have a drink, take your mind off it – but by the time they get there, she can’t face getting off the train and looking strangers in the face. They disembark at the next stop instead, cross to the other platform, and get the train home.

By Christmas, John’s been dead for almost a year (longer than they’d known each other – she tries not to think about that too much, either, because the passage of time feels like missing a stair in the dark, a terrifying drop into the rest of her life). She has dinner with his family, his brothers trying to keep it from being a subdued affair, his parents completely unable to try. John’s sweet, grey-haired father, somehow smaller even than the last time she saw him, withered by grief, comes to sit with her and holds her hand. She bites down so hard on the part of herself that wants to weep that her whole body aches.

On the first anniversary of his death, she gets up earlier than usual and makes French toast. It doesn’t taste right, like everything sweet about it is gone. She doesn’t finish it. Lucy doesn’t say anything about it, but she gives it a week and then says, off-handedly, I’ve got a cousin who’s single. Nice guy, works in marketing or something. You want me to set you up? Lena is very polite but very firm. She does not want to be set up.

When summer comes again, she is one of the few marines left from wartime service. The familiar faces have dwindled in the past eight or ten months. Most of them see her wedding ring and assume she’s got a fella somewhere. It suits her fine. She still does not want to be set up.

It’s been almost three years since the last time she saw John when she spots the back of a dark head in a crowd. The lilt of his walk, the precise, tiny conceit in that stride, stops her in her tracks. She would know it anywhere. A hundred lifetimes from now, she would know it. John. She calls out, a hand flying up, because if she loses him in the crowd, what then? The rawness in her voice makes a handful of people turn around, but not him.

He turns and ambles into a hardware store, unaware. In profile, he is so obviously not John that her knees buckle.

John has been lost to her for five years when her smallest and most precocious niece asks her when she’s going to get married again. It is not a difficult question to answer – I’m not. She had never had a strong desire to get married, or not one that superseded everything else, anyway. Women who got married became wives, and there is nothing wrong with being someone’s wife, but she has never wanted to be only someone’s wife. She likes being a marine; she likes her neatly-kept apartment with its park view and no one to tell her not to leave her books open with cracked spines on the arm of the chair, or her empty coffee cups on the table. She has always liked doing things on her own time. She had even begun to assume that she was not the marrying kind at all before she met John, who had immediately made himself a notable exception to all of her rules.

And then she hadn’t been allowed to keep him. Now she was back to who she had always been – not the marrying kind. She knows better than to expect another John.

It is ten years since John when she looks around and realizes that she has friends to whom she has never mentioned that she is a widow. She barely thinks of herself as one. A widow is a descriptor given to delineate you in relation to someone else, and she has been on her own for a very long time.

I’m a widow, she thinks, frozen in place at the grocery store, in the middle of the soup aisle. Why does the word feel so strange?

The following year, when John’s father dies, she attends the funeral, and John’s family treats her like she belongs, like they always have. When she gets home, it’s the first time she cries since she stopped crying over John. It is like something has fallen away inside of her, created a pit of gravity that pulls down and down and down, and she doesn’t go to work the next day. It’s the one time she calls in sick in her entire career.

It is twenty-three years that John’s been gone when she retires from the marine corps. There is a flurry of interest, people turning their heads when they remember that she’s Lena Riggi Basilone. It doesn’t feel intrusive to let other people have a piece of John, the way it once did. He had never especially liked being a war hero, but she thinks he would have liked being remembered.

She’s been on her own for thirty-five years when she absently takes her wedding ring off one day, trying to find some relief from the way her hands are swollen from the summer heat wave. The way her heart lurches when she rubs that spot with her thumb only to find it bare feels like a dim echo of the day they told her about John, an incomparable loss – an insurmountable panic. She turns the house upside down, scratching her arm on the edge of the bookshelf, until at last, disheveled and bleeding, she finds the ring sitting next to the bed, precisely where she left it.

It's been forty-two years since John when her great-niece asks her about the wedding photo on her mantle and she feels herself brighten. Oh, that’s John. Isn’t he handsome? She tells every story she knows until her cheeks hurt from smiling. The ache is gone, burned away, and only the rest remains, transcendent.

She is more than five decades on from the last time she saw John and she still walks on the beach most days, mainly to get out of the house, although she likes the way the air smells, too, likes the sound of the gulls, and the waves against the pier. It is a bright, windy day, and she is not alone on the sand, though she lets her gaze flow off of other people like the water that scurries in, frothy white, and slinks away across the sand again. She is not here for them. She has reached the end and turned back to return the way she came when ahead of her, she spots the back of a dark head.

It has been a very long time, and yet – and yet.

The lilt of his walk, the precise, tiny conceit in that stride, stops her in her tracks. She would know it anywhere. A hundred lifetimes from now, she would know it. John. She calls out, a hand flying up, because if she loses him in the crowd, what then?

This time, he turns around.

#tpweek2023 #hbowardaily #the pacific #fanfiction #roaroftheninth

[poledancingdinos]

So I ordered new light fixtures a while back (one to go in my living room since there was no light in there when I bought my condo and one for the dining area so that I stopped hitting my head on the corners of the stupid industrial style light that was hanging above my table) and installed them last weekend but I didn't properly check the pieces and didn't realize the glass diffuser was actually shattered until I had finished attaching the light fixture to my ceiling. I was obviously annoyed both at myself and the situation because you can't return a lamp that's hanging from your ceiling.

My dad helped with the wiring and was there when I realized the fuck up.

I called customer service that evening who told me that normally they only processed returns and not exchanges then when I asked if there was anything else they could do they put me on hold and eventually came back saying that exceptionally since the item was an online exclusive they could attempt to contact the vendor on my behalf and we would then need to wait for a response from them to know what they offered to do. So they send me an email so that I can send the pictures of the damage and they promise to personally take over my case and to send me updates on my request. I immediately send back the pictures and decide to wait because I really don't want to order another lamp and switch out the glass piece only to return the other as if the second order was damaged in transit.

Now fast forward to a few days later where I haven't even gotten an acknowledgement that they received my pictures and haven't had confirmation that they contacted the vendor. My dad calls me while I'm in the process of making dinner and cutting and juicing 8 lemons and he says "I'm across the street from the hardware store, do you want me to go talk to them?"

My response was "the teenager making minimum wage can't help me with this. There's no point in making their job difficult" (retail trauma at its finest)

He goes there anyway, somehow convinced someone to contact the vendor themselves, put the poor girl on the phone with me so I can give her my order info and within 36 hours they called me back and say the vendor is shipping a replacement part. (they also asked if they should call my father and let him know what they were doing as if I'm not a grown ass adult who does her own taxes and bought a condo on her own)

Fast forward another 24 hours, the people from the online customer service finally acknowledge my email by telling me they are issuing a full refund. Actually their exact words were "I am sorry to inform you that your order was damaged in transit. We have issued a refund." ... Like, yeah, that's why I called you guys.

Poor phrasing aside, did they ever actually plan on contacting the vendor for me? Who knows, but I highly doubt they bothered seeing as the kind lady from the vendor's customer service sent me the tracking information directly and would have noticed that it was the same info and order number.

Anyways, now I'm gonna have a free light so I guess the humiliation of having a customer service rep ask if they need to follow up with my father on my behalf was worth it 🤷‍♀️

#Random story about my life

[the-ragingenby]

Cross-post:

Dear Fellow Traveler

Chapter 3

TW: MENTIONS OF SEXUAL ASSAULT (nothing graphic)

“Alright, Morgan. Spill it.” Prentiss pulled out a chair and sat next to Morgan, a playful smirk on her face. “You’ve been giggling at your phone like a teenager for ages now. Who’s the lucky person to have your attention?”

“First of all, I do not giggle.” Morgan muttered. “And second, it’s nothing, Prentiss. Just a friend of mine.” At that, Prentiss raised a disbelieving eyebrow.

“A friend, huh? Is that who’s always got your head in the clouds?” Prentiss teased. “Because that sounds like more than a friend to me.” Morgan sighed, deciding to ignore the fact that she might be right.

“Come on, Prentiss.” Morgan said. “You know I don’t chase people for this long.” Prentiss’s smile only grew wider.

“So you are talking to someone! I knew it! Give me all the details.” Prentiss leaned in, teasingly curious. Morgan rolled his eyes at her.

“There’s nothing to say, Prentiss. We haven’t even met in person.” And I don’t even know what he looks like.

“Then it sounds like you need to change that.” Prentiss nudged him gently. “If you ever need advice-”

“You’re probably the last person I’d go seeking love advice from. If I ever needed it, which I don’t.” Morgan retorted, though it was more playful than anything else. “And besides, I don’t really plan to do anything. I just like talking to him, that’s all.” Prentiss stared at him for a long moment, then conceded with a shrug.

“Alright, alright.” Prentiss relented, leaning away. “But seriously, if you’re feeling conflicted, I think you should go for it. Whoever he is, he obviously makes you happy. And that’s good enough for me.” With a smile, she flicked Morgan’s shoulder before sidling back to the others.

“Wheels up in ten.” Hotch announced, suddenly appearing from his office. “We’ll be debriefed on the plane. We’re heading to Richmond.” Morgan rushed to his office to grab his go-bag, while the rest of the team skittered around, gathering their things.

They eventually met up again in front of the elevator. “Did you know that Morgan’s got a boyfriend?” Prentiss whisper-shouted to JJ as they waited. JJ gasped, whipping around to stare at him.

“You’re kidding.” She snickered. “No wonder you’ve been so chipper lately.”

“Alright, stop that. And don’t get your hopes up. He’s not my boyfriend or anything.” Morgan huffed, moving to hold the elevator door open as it arrived.

“Really? That’s too bad. You need one. Maybe then you’ll simmer down a little, mister hotshot.” JJ teased, slipping inside with Prentiss trailing behind her.

By the time they reached the jet, the others were already there. Rossi, who had taken a few days off, had finally returned and was waiting for them on the jet. Hotch was settled in his usual spot, flipping through a few files he had brought with him.

As they took off, Garcia called in to give the rundown of the case. “So, we have a few serial killings at Virginia U. All the victims were girls and were strangled to death, with chains. Though they were never left at the crime scene.”

“Do we know if these chains are a specific make? Maybe they can only be specially bought.” Morgan offered, scrolling through the photos Garcia had sent to their tablets.

“No, these are chains you can buy at any hardware store, according to the marking left. Nothing special about them. Trust me, I already looked.” Garcia sighed, shaking her head. “Anyway, we have had four victims in as many days, which is why we were called in so urgently.”

“The university has a history of students becoming violent criminals, but it's been almost a decade since the last one.” JJ added thoughtfully. “Maybe it's someone who was recently released deciding to come and wreak havoc on the school? Revenge kills?”

“But that was over a decade ago. I doubt they’d want to take their anger out on kids they wouldn’t know.” Rossi offered. “But then again, it's hard to rationalize the actions of a psychopathic killer.”

“Any signs of sexual assault?” Hotch asked. Garcia sighed and nodded.

“More like all the signs.” Garcia said, typing away at her computer. She froze suddenly, a deep frown on her face. “And they’ve just found another victim. I’ve forwarded the photos to your tablets.”

“JJ, you and Rossi will go to the medical examiner. Prentiss, you and Morgan will go straight to the latest crime scene. And I’ll get us set up at the local police department.” Hotch decided. With assignments delegated, the rest of the short plane ride was in relative silence, with the occasional theory being brought up.

~

“He left the chain this time.” Morgan noted, kneeling down to take a closer look at the young woman's body. “And Garcia was right about the chains being accessible. They’re really nothing special.”

“The victim’s name was Emma Garrison. She was reported missing less than 24 hours ago.” Prentiss explained, glancing around the crime scene. “Our unsub did what he planned quickly, and didn’t hold her long, if at all.”

“I would think it would be difficult to keep someone subdued privately on such a populated campus. And no one saw anything at all?” Morgan asked.

“No witnesses have come forward so far.” Prentiss replied, sliding on her gloves as she knelt beside Morgan. She prodded at the body a bit, before letting out a sigh. “There are signs of sexual assault.”

“And clear defensive wounds. Might’ve gotten her with a blitz attack.” Morgan stated. “We need to get into contact with anyone on and off campus that knows her personally. That might help us get closer to the unsub.”

After their analysis of the latest crime scene, Morgan and Prentiss made their way to the local police department. Hotch had already set them up in a conference room, with pictures of the victims taped up in chronological order. “Morgan, Prentiss, this is Detective Noah Walsh. He’s the one heading up the investigation.” Hotch introduced.

Noah gingerly shook their hands, then bowed his head. “Sorry to call you guys here on such short notice. Normally, we’d have more information for you, thanks to our consultant, but he’s stuck at the university. The place is on lockdown until we can find a suspect.”

“Is he like a student there or something?” Morgan asked absently, instead taking in the timeline Hotch had created.

“Well, yeah. But he’s a real bright kid. I’ve been keeping him filled in, so he may call if he has any ideas.” Noah explained. Prentiss nodded.

“We’ll need all the help we can get.” She added dully.

“How is the university handling things?” Hotch questioned. Noah shifted nervously.

“Well, they’ve imposed a curfew.” He said.

“And?”

“That’s it.” Noah raised his hands defensively when Morgan whirled around suddenly, stunned at the seeming lack of concern or care for their students. “There’s been issues at that school for years. Most of the recent incidents have been kept under wraps by the higher ups. But the press caught wind of this too fast for the school to cover it up.”

Hotch frowned. Before he could say more, JJ and Rossi appeared in the doorway. “The press is outside waiting for a statement. We barely made it in here without being tackled.” Rossi huffed, dropping the medical examiner’s reports on the table.

“We’ll hold off on a statement until we can nail down the profile. If we say the wrong thing, we may end up pushing the unsub to strike faster than he already is.” Hotch decided after a moment. “Anything with the medical examiner?”

“The latest victim died the same way as the others. Strangled with a chain and sexually assaulted both post and ante-mortem. This time the chain was left at the scene. There were traces of DNA, and they’re working on identifying it as we speak.” JJ explained. Hotch nodded slowly.

“The strangulation suggests that the unsub has a personal vendetta against these women. But using the chain means he doesn’t want to get his hands too dirty. Yet he still has the strength to subdue these women and kill them quickly.” Rossi added bluntly.

“I bet the university is still trying to cover for this student. They may have some idea as to who our unsub is.” Hotch decided after a while. “I’ll go speak with them. JJ, Rossi, head to the school and interview a few students. I had Garcia compile a list of people who may be of some interest to our investigation. It should be sent to your phones. Prentiss, stay with Morgan and continue to work on victimology. We’ll have to hope that this consultant gives us a call. For now, he’s one of our only leads.”

With that, Prentiss and Morgan were left with Detective Noah, who flipped through the medical examiner’s reports as though new information would jump out at him from the pages. After a while of theorizing in silence, the conference room’s phone began to ring.

Morgan leaned over to read the number, expecting Garcia with more info. Instead, it was a number he didn’t recognize. Or maybe he did, but he couldn’t recall from where. Detective Noah peered over his shoulder, noticing Morgan’s confusion, and slumped a little in relief. “That’s our consultant, Dr. Spencer Reid.” That’s not…my Spencer, is it? Surely not. Right? Without a moment’s hesitation, Detective Noah answered and put the phone on speaker to allow the agents to hear.

“Good afternoon, Detective. Sorry I haven’t called sooner. I had to confirm some things before I presented my findings.” The voice on the other end apologized, letting out an airy laugh. “Your unsub belongs to a makeshift fraternity called Alpha. They basically believe women to be scum, for lack of a better word, and feel it's their place to take care of them. Some of their members even refer to them as dogs, hence the chains. They remind me of chains one may use to shackle a dog to their doghouse.”

“Ew. Men.” Prentiss huffed. “Uh, no offense, Morgan.” Morgan could hardly hear her. Spencer was stuck at a university with a murderer, and he couldn’t do anything about it.

“...Derek? Is that you?” Spencer asked carefully, his voice adorably hopeful. Despite his anxieties, just hearing Spencer’s voice made him feel a lot better.

“Yeah, Spence. It’s me.” Morgan smiled, ignoring Prentiss’ shocked gasp.

Spencer nervously cleared his throat, remembering why he had called in the first place. “Right. Um. The dean has been trying to hide this group’s existence from students, but it’s impossible to hide everything from nosy students. They disbanded less than a week ago, which lines up with the first victim. So your unsub is most likely in that group. I’ve just sent a list of all the members to Derek.”

“Thank you so much, Dr. Reid. You have no idea how grateful we always are for your help.” Detective Noah sighed, relieved. “Be sure to stay safe.”

“I will. And it’s my pleasure.” Spencer replied, ending the call. Before Prentiss could turn on Morgan to interrogate him, he called Garcia, asking her to check out the alibis for the students on Spencer’s list.

After a bit of digging, Garcia found that only one of the former members of the Alpha fraternity did not have a solid alibi, that being Blake Gaines. “Hotch, it looks like Blake Gaines may be our unsub. He resides in Jayden Morse Hall. I had Garcia send his photo to your phones. We’ll be there in fifteen.” Prentiss relayed as she rushed out of the conference room, Morgan right on her heels.

“I can get us there in seven.” Morgan growled determinedly, fishing his keys out of his pocket and hopping into the driver’s seat.

“Try not to kill us, Morgan.” Prentiss sighed, ending the call. Morgan let out a gruff laugh.

“Like I’d ever let that happen.” Morgan sped down the road, sirens wailing as he went. He braked hard as he came to the police perimeter, quickly shutting off the car and hopping out to rush onto campus.

The pair made their way around the perimeter of the residence hall, eyes carefully trained on the exits and entrances, ensuring that there was no way for Blake to escape. There was a sudden commotion and the rear exit door swung open. Blake was scrambling away, with JJ hot on his trail.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Prentiss and Morgan rush to cut him off, trapping him between the three agents. Realizing he had no means of escape, Blake huffed and slowly raised his hands, allowing JJ to cuff him with minimal insults flung their way. “That was easier than I expected.” Morgan said as JJ marched Blake away.

“Maybe a little too easy.” Prentiss frowned. “With all due respect, he seems like an idiot. I’m not sure how he went on for so long without being caught.” Morgan shrugged, but he had to admit she had a point. Something was amiss.

Morgan hesitated a little as they headed back to the car. Spencer was here, somewhere. And it would be so good to see him. As much as he hated to admit it, he really, really wanted to just hold onto Spencer and give him the attention and love he deserves–

Morgan shook his head, bringing himself back to the present. He really needed to focus. Dealing with his personal life and feelings comes later, his job comes first.

Back at the police station, Morgan stood beside Hotch who was intently watching the interrogation. “So you have no idea how these women ended up dead? Somehow, I find that hard to believe.” Rossi scoffed, tapping at a picture directly in front of Blake. “From what we heard around campus, she was your girlfriend. You two had broken up only a few weeks ago, and you were taking it less than well.”

“Shut the hell up! You don’t know what you’re doing, old man.” Blake snapped back, glaring at Rossi. “I don’t have to say shit. Once the dean catches wind that I’m in here, you’ll all be sorry!” Unfazed by his outburst, Rossi leaned back in his chair.

“You know, we found some DNA at the crime scene. In fact, it was on the victim herself. I bet if we had a sample of yours, we’d find a match.” He offered Blake a tight smile. “Listen, kid. The easiest way to clear your name and get you out of here is to consent to a DNA test. That’s all you’ve gotta do.” Blake tensed, eyes growing wide at Rossi’s words.

“I want my phone call.” Blake huffed, crossing his arms. “I don’t have to talk to you people.” Rossi simply shrugged, standing from the chair and leaving the room.

As Rossi, Hotch, and Morgan were coming up with a new strategy, a well-dressed man barged into the station, pushing past all the officers trying to stop him. “Agent Hotchner!” He yelled, pointing an accusing finger at the agent. “I demand that you release my son this instant! He has done nothing wrong and there’s no proof that any of these killings had to do with him.”

“Ah, Mr. Gaines. I’ve been expecting you.” Hotch straightened up and met his gaze evenly. “We have probable cause to keep Blake here due to DNA we found on the most recent victim. Should he agree to a DNA test, it would expedite the process.”

“Then, I’m here as the dean of Virginia University, trying to free one of my students who is being wrongfully held.” Mr. Gaines faltered a little. “He doesn’t have to consent to a test if he doesn’t want to. His testimony should be more than sufficient.”

“I’m afraid it doesn’t work that way.” Hotch apologized flatly. “You don’t have the authority to demand the release of a suspect. And Blake is a person of interest.”

“Then I’m calling our lawyer.” Mr. Gaines snarled, glaring harshly at Hotch. “My boy wouldn’t hurt a fly.” Hotch watched him stalk away, then turned to Morgan. “Call Garcia and see if she has anything new on Blake. If we can’t find anything concrete, we’ll have to let him go.”

“Hey, baby girl. Please tell me you’ve got something new on Blake.” Morgan asked, heading into the conference room and placing his phone on the table, so everyone could hear.

“Of course I do! Your lack of faith in me is hurtful.” Garcia huffed. “The kid’s got a sealed record. So of course I got nosy and unsealed it. Turns out, he has like twenty different charges against him for sexual assault against both men and women, but they were dropped every time due to witnesses retracting their statements.”

“And I’ll bet the dean has everything to do with it.” Morgan sighed, shaking his head.

“He’ll be back soon. I’ll see if I can get through to him. Maybe we’ll be able to get that DNA test after all.” Rossi offered. “I mean, Mr. Gaines wouldn’t be rejecting the one thing that could prove Blake innocent once and for all if he didn’t worry that Blake was actually guilty.”

“Alright, that’s probably best.” Hotch decided. “He won’t want to talk to me, since he sees me as responsible for his son being in custody.”

The team waited around for Mr. Gaines to return, surprisingly with no lawyer at his side like they expected. “I’m giving you people one more chance to let my son go without causing any more issues.”

“Mr. Gaines, hello again. A pleasure to see you.” Rossi greeted warmly, taking the man’s hand and pulling him aside. “I just need to exchange a few words with you, if you don’t mind.” Without another word, Rossi pulled him to the far side of the conference room, just out of earshot of the other agents.

Though Morgan couldn’t hear what they were saying, he watched Mr. Gaines’ body language shift as Rossi continued to talk. After a few minutes, they return to the group. “I consent to a DNA test for my son. I…want these women to get the justice they deserve.”

Hotch nodded and went to order the test, while JJ escorted Mr. Gaines out of the room. “What’d you say to him to get him to cave?” Prentiss asked curiously.

“Ah, well. I have my ways.” Rossi smiled as he shrugged. Morgan couldn’t help but laugh while Prentiss rolled her eyes.

After a few hours, JJ returned with Mr. Gaines, who looked like he had seen a ghost. “The test came back positive. Blake confessed to everything after he talked to Mr. Gaines.”

“I betrayed him.” Mr. Gaines murmured. “I should have protected him. And have been a better father.”

“Thank you for your help, Mr. Gaines.” Hotch nodded to him. Mr. Gaines didn’t reply, slumping his shoulders as he turned away. “We’ll need to contact the families of the victims, then we’re done here.”

Morgan helped make a few phone calls, consoling the mourning families. They were grateful, however, for the closure the team was able to provide.

“Shouldn’t you go visit Spencer while we’re still here?” Prentiss asked, spinning lazily in a chair in the conference room. Though the team was technically done with their investigation, they still needed to wait on the jet to be ready.

“I want to. I really do. But I want us to meet under better circumstances.” Morgan admitted. “After helping catch a murderer, I don’t think he’d be in the mood anyway. And I don’t know where he is or what he’s up to.” Prentiss sighed.

“Those are poor excuses. That’s what your phone is for, dummy.” Prentiss swiveled and stared at him. “But whatever. At least give him a call. Check in on him.”

“I will.” Morgan promised.

“The jet’s ready, so let’s get going.” Rossi called, poking his head into the conference room.

“Sweet. This place was getting a little too dreary for my taste. Can’t wait to take a good nap.” Prentiss stretched animatedly and nudged Morgan. “And if I catch wind from Garcia that you didn’t talk to you-know-who…”

“Yeah, yeah. Alright, I get it.” Morgan laughed, playfully lifting his arms to appease her as he stood. “You’re really starting to sound like Garcia.”

“Well, good. Then you’ll listen to me.” Prentiss stuck out her tongue at him, which only caused him to laugh harder.

The flight back was short, but not fast enough for Morgan’s taste. As much as he played off wanting to call Spencer, he really wanted to hear his voice again. I miss him. God, I just wanna hold him, so badly.

“You going out with us tonight, Morgan?” JJ asked as they arrived back at the office. “We’re finally back at a reasonable hour. It’d be a shame to waste it.”

“Sorry, guys. I think I’ll pass today.” Morgan replied, quickly gathering his things and attempting to slink away.

“Morgan not wanting to go out? Something’s wrong with him.” JJ blinked at him, wide-eyed. “Is it your boyfriend? Or, sorry, almost boyfriend.”

“Did you know that he’s the consultant for Richmond PD? Morgan got a little flustered when he called in.” Prentiss teased, meeting Morgan’s glare with a wide smile.

“Oh!” JJ smirked. “Well, please. Don’t let us stop you from your romantic pursuits. Have a good night, Morgan!”

“Yeah. Bye, guys.” Morgan sighed and headed to the elevator with a shake of his head.

“We still love you, y’know! We’re just teasing!” Prentiss called after him.

“Totally holding it against you if you find someone!” Morgan replied, letting the elevator doors close before Prentiss could retort.

Morgan drove a little faster than he intended to, but he needed to get home. He needed to hear his pretty boy again. He had hardly stepped through the door when he pulled out his phone and dialed the number he now made a point to commit to memory. It only rang once before there was an answer. “Derek?”

“Hey, pretty boy.” Morgan sighed, settling on his couch.

“I heard you guys caught your unsub. I guess my info helped?” Spencer asked.

“More than you know. We wouldn’t have been able to narrow down our list of suspects that quickly without it.” Morgan replied.

“That’s good. Are you home now? It’s a bit earlier than usual.” Spencer wondered.

“Yeah. And it’s thanks to you. We probably would have been stuck over there for another day or two without you.” Morgan let out a light laugh. “Are you okay though? I know it must have been tough. And you were stuck on campus the whole time.”

Spencer didn’t reply right away, instead letting out a soft breath. “If I’m being honest, I was terrified.” He whispered, voice shaky. “Even when I called Detective Noah to give him information, I was trying really hard to stay composed. When I found out you were there, it made me feel a lot better. Like nothing could touch me, so long as I knew you were near.”

“Spence…”

“Sorry, corny. I know.” Spencer chuckled. “But I’m home now. So everything’s fine. The campus will be closed for the next few days, so I’ll have some free time on my hands.”

“That’s good. You deserve a break.” Morgan barely managed to stop himself from asking about Spencer’s plans. As much as he wanted to meet him, Morgan wondered if it was really the right time. Then again, there’s no time like the present. But, I don’t want to bother him either. God, why is this so hard?

“Spencer, who are you talking to now?” A gruff voice asked from the other line. Morgan frowned, trying to recall where he had heard it before.

“Sorry, I have to go. But we’ll talk later, okay? Take care of yourself, and rest well.” Spencer rushed out, hanging up before Morgan had a chance to reply.

That was more than suspicious to him, but he decided to let it go for now. After all, Morgan didn’t want to push Spencer too much, in case he doesn’t want to talk about it.

Patience, Morgan. Patience.

#criminal minds #derek morgan #fanfic #fanfiction #spencer reid #ao3 author #romance #moreid

[thewonderfulsticherofoz]

I made a joke ask about Harrow being restored like St Peter through feeding cows instead of sheep and now that I’m thinking about it I feel there is some merit in my demented joke. Listen. Nona starts with Pyrrha wanting to take her family and go to a farming planet away from the violence. The notion that this is something Pyrha really wants- that she could ever truly stomach a life of peace, a life without conflict or violence, without anything to fight- is something that is questioned multiple times throughout the book. This leads me to believe that it’s not out of the realm of possibility that we’re going to swing back around to the farming planet topic. Now, obviously Harrow is a character who has been nothing but death and destruction her whole life. Her necromancy and her very existence are only possible because of the murder of 200 innocent children and she hates herself for it. The fact that her hatred of the sacrifice that lead to her power, and by extension herself, is so central to her character has led many (including myself) to believe that for Harrow’s arc to be complete she will have to in some way give up her necromantic powers. So how does this relate to Pyrrha and her farming planet? Harrow is also a character who cannot conceive of herself outside a world of death. And not only that, she feels that she is obligated to pay for the sacrifice necessary for her existence. She orginally tries to do this by becoming a lyctor and having Jod repopulate her house, but she’s still miserable and all the new people became zombies so obviously that didn’t work. The series presents us with the idea of life and death energy, thalergy and thanergy, as two opposite forces. But in reality, one cannot exist without the other. And if you look at it through the lens of nature, they are not even separate forces, but one continuous cycle. New life can’t exist without death and decomposition. (I think this idea of thalergy and thanergy actually being one force has something to do with perfect lyctorhood but that’s a different post.) If you want to cultivate plants and living things, you have to sustain them with products of decomposition. Seriously, you can go to any hardware store right now and buy a 3 pound bag of powdered blood or bone to give your plant. Plants LOVE decomposing organic matter. They need it to exist. Which brings me to my main point: you know what’s a really good way to reclaim your origins of death and destruction and transform them into growth and life in a very symbolic, narrative way? FARMING. And we’re going back to Canaan House which is ostensibly on Earth!! Taking our necromancy and using it to introduce new life to the planet whose death and rebirth started this whole thing would be, IMO, a gorgeous way and thematically consistent way to end this story. Also, as an ending it has very strong medieval religious allegory vibes. How do you live the perfect spiritual life? You have love and family and a farm. Very Voltaire. (I know Candide’s not medieval but as a philisophical text it has very strong roots in medieval moral philosophy don’t come for me!) Anyway all this to say that I now want nothing more than for Pyrrha and Gideon and Harrow to end the story with John and Alecto in the tomb, zero necromancy, and a farm where Harrow literally feeds Gideons cows (that she raises in order to reclaim the legacy of violence she’s inherited). I choose to believe this until I am directly contradicted in October. 

#tlt #meta #harrow

[persimmonsimmer]

“You again?”

“Me again,” the red-haired man smiled back at her, matching her playful tone.

The trader who had introduced himself as Carl Worth had become enough of a regular that Citlali felt comfortable making the occasional quip to him. Sometimes, when the store was mostly empty and he could see that she wasn’t too busy, he liked to stop and chat for a few minutes before heading on his way. Like most traders, he’d collected some fascinating stories during his travels, and Citlali, who’d never stepped foot outside Panorama, soaked them up eagerly.

Today he wanted to know if they had any ground coffee in stock.

“You’re in luck,” Citlali said.

“Ah, thank the Watcher. Are you a coffee drinker?”

“No. I tried a sip once, but it was too bitter for me. And it’s so expensive, since it can be so hard to come by, I don’t really see the point.”

“You’re better off, believe me,” Carl said. “I used to feel the same way, but now I’m hooked. Decent coffee is a devil to get a hold of, but I’m useless without it.”

Carl paid for his coffee but didn’t leave right away. He often stuck around for a few minutes to browse the store’s wares, and sometimes quizzed Peter to find out if they’d gotten any new items in stock since his last visit.

“Tell me, Citlali,” he addressed her again while peering at the store’s collection of dry goods, “is everything sold here secondhand? What I mean is, do you sell anything you produce yourselves, here in Panorama?”

The store was still mostly empty, so Citlali stepped out from behind the register so they could talk more easily. She took a moment to think before responding. “Well, not really. Peter used to sell a lot of fresh produce, and building materials, and things like that, but then the farm stand and hardware store came along, so he started selling more of the kinds of things you can only get from traders.”

“What about these clothes?”

“Some were made by my mom. She gives Peter a good rate. But most of them come from traders, too.”

“So this store is kind of like a middleman’s middleman, huh? Everything sold here comes from somewhere else by way of traders, and most of your business comes from selling it back to different traders at a higher price?”

Citlali frowned. “I guess you could say that.” Put so simply, it did seem… problematic.

“I know unsolicited advice is rarely welcome, and you’d think I’d have learned my lesson by now, but I’ll try my luck anyway,” Carl said. “Obviously what Peter’s doing here has worked so far, and deletion, it might keep working for a while longer yet, but I can’t see his luck holding out much longer. The world is changing. Very, very slowly at the moment, but one day the pace will pick up, faster than you can believe. One of these days, people are going to have better options than to rely on a handful of greedy, lazy traders for all the little luxuries they can’t make themselves.

“Peter seems like a good man, but you want my advice, Citlali--humor me--I’d say not to wait around for that day to happen. Think of something you can do that’s original, that no one else can undersell you on. And do that.”

Citlali hardly knew what to say. Carl’s tone had been warm, his face open and friendly. It seemed like he genuinely wanted nothing more than to give her a word of advice. But what he was saying, with such easy self assurance, was that the store was doomed? Could he really pretend to know the future with such certainty? It was a lot to take in at once.

She stammered out a reply that must have been acceptable to him, because he nodded, gave her one last smile, and left.

#panorama bacc #sims 2 #sims 2 bacc #morales family #citlalimorales #carlworth #hmmmm mayyybe the reason I can't manage to get a decent queue going is because I keep writing these monster walls of text #yep that could be it #sorry

[everygame]

Quartet (Arcade)

Developed/Published by: Sega Released: 10/04/1986 Completed: 18/08/2023 Completion: Played all 32 unique levels. Version Played: MAME Trophies / Achievements: n/a

There’s a convenience store near me that’s got a Quartet machine in it. It’s dusty, surrounded by and covered in boxes, and I genuinely have no idea how long it’s been since it was turned on. Every time I’m in, I check to make sure it’s still there, because I think to myself “I’m sure they’ll take pennies to take this off their hands. If I’ve ever got the kind of living situation where I’ve got the space for something like this…”

Having played through Quartet now–or rather, Quartet 2, which is the two-player (but otherwise identical) version–I will probably be less inclined to haggle over the machine if they decide it’s got sentimental value or something (although I’m fairly certain it’s there because they just don’t want to have to deal with trying to get it out of the shop). Because Quartet is… not great.

Popular wisdom has that this was pushed out in what would have to be considered record time to “clone” Gauntlet as a flashy, four-player arcade game, and I’m definitely interested in how the timeline of that worked, because Gauntlet by all accounts was released in November 1985, didn’t reach Japan until February 1986, and this came out in… the same month???

(Obviously, dates for all these things have to be taken with a grain of salt–I have found at least one source that has it down as not releasing till April, but let’s not split too many hairs.)

It’s possible–and this is pure conjecture–that Quartet was an in-progress side scroller that got rapidly retrofitted to make it as Gauntletty as possible. It’s got a lot of different enemy types and bosses while also having insanely short levels, which makes it seem like something quickly changed and then rushed out, but then again, it might just be how they decided to spend their limited time.

(I’m not sure if it has any significance that the game was one of the very few for Sega’s “pre-System 16” hardware when Fantasy Zone, released within a month of Quartet, was on actual System 16 hardware.)

To speak of Gauntlet for a second: I don’t really get Gauntlet. Gauntlet isn’t the first game to feature continues (SNK’s 1981 title Fantasy has that distinction) but it’s definitely the first game that feels designed to just have credits fed into it continuously. You’ve got constantly sapping health and swarms of enemies that in many cases you can’t avoid getting hit by, meaning that you’re going to end up putting more cash in because your mate hasn’t died yet, leading to that feedback loop where when they die they put another credit in too. To add insult to injury, there’s no ending, so the only actual value is trying to see how far you can get on one credit…

(Turns out if you play well and abuse that enemies don’t spawn off-screen, you can basically play it infinitely on a single credit, but it’s a lot of tedious effort…)

Anyway. Quartet is… basically the same thing: an exercise in feeding credits that doesn’t lead to any sort of ending or even much variety in the levels. It’s a side-scroller with floaty jumps, sure, but that’s not inherently more interesting than Gauntlet’s top-down styling, and if anything there are deeper flaws. For one, you cannot destroy generators (miserable!) and the game is designed around defeating a boss that you find in the level and then taking their key to the exit door. Unfortunately, every time you get hit you go through a lengthy hit animation and throw anything you are carrying behind you on the screen–including power-ups! With every screen swarming with enemies, this gets old fast.

I don’t have any knowledge if Quartet 2 is balanced for two-players, but it doesn’t seem to be especially; I suspect that Quartet is far more manageable with a full four players–more chaotic, but a lot more fun and a lot more survivable (they don’t let you destroy the generators because the levels would rapidly empty of enemies with four playing, I’m certain) and that the game has a little player ranking at the end of each level makes it clear that it’s at least partially a competition which would give you more of a reason to keep playing. 

So not a game for billy-no-mates here, but I’ll tell you what kept me playing: it’s absolutely banging soundtrack! The Quartet Theme is a legit classic, but I’ve got a soft spot for OKI_RAP with its awkward, rappin’ ronnie samples. “S-S-S-Sega! Oh Yeah!” 

Didn’t get bored through my entire playthrough and the soundtrack’s only like eleven minutes long.

Will I ever play it again? When I own that machine and have three friends, sure.

Final Thought: Quartet’s visuals are very charming and seem to be the work of the legendary Reiko Kodama, who had previously done the art for Sega Ninja. More interestingly, perhaps, is that the game was coded by Yoshiki Ooka, who would go on to develop the similarly Gauntlet-inspired Gain Ground!

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#gaming #video games #games #text #txt #review #arcade #sega #quartet #quartet 2 #reiko kodama #yoshiki ooka #1986

[5sosfanfictioncatalogue]

Mature Rated Fics Masterlist

A Ticket to Another World (ao3) - lovealways1990 Luke/Ashton M, 29k

Summary: When a car crash erases Luke’s memories, he wakes up in the year 2014. Only problem..his last memory - testing a new drummer for the band’s first gig - is from 2011. Now, he’s forced to rely on second-hand accounts and flashbacks to retrieve his memories. Not to mention the new drummer Ashton is making everything incredibly unsettling.

BOYS with an S (ao3) - gardener Ashton/Luke/Calum M, 24k

Summary: French, eighteen years old Luke Hemmings moves to NYC to study Sociology. It is not long until he meets Ashton Irwin, thirty years old owner of a grand, renowned magazine in an unfortunate setting and they decide to get to know each other better. Luke is so overwhelmed by his exclusive charms that he could have never expected a meet-up with Calum Hood. Vice versa.

Eat Me (ao3) - notonguexwithbutt Michael/Luke M, 14k

Summary: "Michael’s bottle green eyes are absolutely shining and Luke has to take a second to appreciate the beauty before him. Luke convinces himself it’s not weird to think things like that because it’s so obviously a fact. Michael is a beautiful boy, the prettiest Luke’s ever seen, and it makes Luke’s heart pound to think that he’s his best friend. How did he get so lucky?"

Michael is upset that none of his bandmates want to take him to a deserted island and eat him so Luke makes him feel better. In doing so, he discovers the feelings he has for his best friend are a little stronger than he ever intended.

Fine Print - @daydadahlias​ (cornflowerblue (daydadahlias)) Luke/Ashton M, 61k

Summary: If Michael says Ashton Irwin will be a good bodyguard then sure, Luke will put his money on Ashton being a good bodyguard. Besides, all Luke needs is a shadow. So what if he doesn’t like him?

Who ever cared about liking their shadow anyway?

or the one where Luke is a heartbroken solo artist who can’t sleep and Ashton is his less-than-enthusiastic bodyguard

home is wherever you are tonight (ao3) - lifewasradical Luke/Ashton M, 72k

Summary: Life has become so mundane in the past few years that there’s very little that sends a thrill up Luke’s spine anymore. It’s that idea that had him saying yes to the idea of moving out here for a few weeks anyways: the knowledge that this was a completely new place where no one knew his name. He could be anyone he wanted to be here, within reason. He wouldn’t be seeing any of these people again after May, so what’s the harm in becoming a new person for a bit? Someone not so bogged down by the shit in their head that they can’t get out of bed some mornings. Maybe this is a step in the direction of the person Luke wants to be in the future anyways.

Or, Luke inherits a beach house on a tiny coastal island that needs some work. He didn't plan on falling in love with the guy at the hardware store.

I Love You a Latte! (ao3) - reylofics Luke/Ashton, Michael/Calum M, 28k

Summary: A story where Luke Hemmings randomly texts Ashton Irwin over Kik and the rest of their story unfolds rather quickly.

in a big red bow (ao3) - galacticsugar Luke/Calum M, 7k

Summary: 5 times Calum checks out Luke's ass and 1 time he finally gets to touch it.

It's a hell of a feeling though (ao3) - thenewbrokenscene Michael/Luke M, 58k

Summary: [AU, actor/model Luke and musician Michael]

After a recent scandal and the subsequent publicity nightmare, Luke Hemmings doesn't need any more trouble. He's just trying to enjoy his best friend's birthday party. But who the fuck invited Michael Clifford?

Keep Me Close, Keep Me Close (ao3) - senioritastyles Luke/Everyone M, 4k

Summary: Calum and Michael are looking back at him now too, brows furrowed and annoyance clear on their faces too. Luke can tell he’s in for it when they get back, and that wasn’t exactly his planned outcome but he’s not going to complain. He starts tapping his feet in anticipation once the commotion dies down, and he can’t sit still so his hands start drumming on his thighs to some irregular beat and he’s twisting his lip ring with his teeth and he’s not even meaning to be annoying right now but Calum’s having none of it.

“Luke, chill the fuck out bro. You’re driving me insane.” He growls, jaw locked and Luke realizes they’re all looking at him like that.

They look more pissed than annoyed now and he’s seriously probably going to regret this once they’re done with him later. But he’ll just have to wait and see for sure.

or: Luke’s being annoying, and things don’t go so well.

Never (ao3) - notonguexwithbutt Michael/Luke M, 41k

Summary: “I rub him through his jeans and he pushes against me as he sucks on my lips and scrapes his fingers across my back, undoubtedly leaving marks. After a minute I don’t think I can wait any longer so I sit up again and reach for the waistband of his jeans. His arms fall beside him and he reaches up to grip his hair, looking up at me with his swollen lips parted and eyes dark from being so dilated. He looks so wrecked and I haven’t even properly touched his dick yet.”

Michael and Luke work together at a pizza shop and Michael seems to hate Luke but really he’s just in denial. Michael’s POV.

Of Polaroids and Safe Sex (ao3) - Juliaenerys Luke/Calum M, 8k

Summary: In which Calum and Luke meet in high school, date, break up and meet again. And Luke has changed a lot.

someone to stay (ao3) - lukeyboy Luke/Ashton M, 5k

Summary: cliche high school au where ashton is the social outcast in school, and luke is the most popular guy in school, captain of the football team and adored by everyone. their paths cross when luke finds ashton crying on the corridor floor.

Something Better (ao3) - notonguexwithbutt Michael/Luke M, 10k

Summary: "It’s like Luke is trying to say so many things with one look and somehow Michael is understanding them all. Or is he? Because to him it looks like Luke is saying 'push me up against a wall and fuck me' or maybe it’s something more like 'do something, I dare you.' Or maybe Michael’s just really turned on by the sight of his best friend covered in sweat and staring at him with dark, dilated eyes."

Luke gets his wisdom teeth removed and feels quite affectionate and honest in the haze of his anesthesia. Later, he's embarrassed about the things he confessed to Michael, so Michael does what he can to even out the field.

stained hearts (ao3) - galacticsugar Luke/Calum M, 28k

Summary: “I’m not really looking for a serious relationship right now.”

Okay. That’s okay. Good, even. Get to know each other before they get in too deep.

“But I liked spending time with you and I liked having sex with you and I’d like to do it again.” Luke squeezes Calum’s hand, pulling Calum’s gaze to his face. He’s smiling softly, eyes illuminated by the sun, starbursts in his pupils and shadows of his curls in perfect spirals on his shoulders. “If you want.”

Casual. Sure. Calum can do casual.

“I want.”

Tell Me All The Things That I Wanna Hear (ao3) - senioritastyles Michael/Luke M, 4k

Summary: “Did you just throw your fucking come pillow at me?!” Michael yells, wiping his hands on his jeans and staring at Luke like he’s gone insane even though Michael’s the one who let himself into Luke’s room while he was busy doing things, and then didn’t fucking leave.

“Yeah well you scared the shit out of me! What the hell are you doing in here?” Luke yells back, discreetly taking the dildo out of himself, although he doesn’t exactly bother to cover up.

“Apparently watching you fuck yourself with a piece of plastic while moaning my name.” Michael explains, looking self-satisfied and smug and like a general piece of shit.

or: Luke is curious about his sexual life and he (not so) secretly want Michael involved.

The Best Thing (the way it’s supposed to be) (ao3) - gravityinglass Michael/Calum M, 87k

Summary: Or, the story of how 5 Seconds of Summer became a band (starting from the beginning) and how Michael Clifford realized he’d always been in love with Calum Hood (not starting from the beginning, not even close), and how taking on the world turned out to be less daunting than it seemed.

The Sun Is Burning Down Los Angeles (ao3) - galacticsugar Luke/Calum M, 40k

Summary: Calum probably signed a form saying he wouldn’t fall in love with the lead singer of the band. And he really doesn’t want to. What a cliché. It’s just…people get famous for a reason. This guy got famous for all the reasons.

Calum moves to LA to work for 5SOS.

walmart sonata (ao3) - kaleidoscopeminds Luke/Calum M, 33k

Summary: Luke shakes his head. He doesn’t really understand Calum. What is this beautiful man doing being sweet and kind to him in the Walmart he works at several times a week? Luke’s life doesn’t include things like this. He just smiles at Calum slightly disbelievingly, it’s not like Calum will ever really see him perform. He’s just a hot stranger from his grocery store.

What Was Not Expected (ao3) - xxsilverlist Michael/Calum, Luke/OC M, 61k

Summary: Jessie had the once in a lifetime chance to meet 5SOS, unexpectedly she finds herself friends with the boys. Soon the secrets begin to pour out. And maybe Luke really likes her.

Or the one where Michael and Calum are secretly dating, Luke falls in love, and Ashton keeps things from the boys.

Without You (ao3) - ofmonstersandmayhem Luke/Ashton, Michael/Calum M, 67k

Summary: Nothing made Ashton happy anymore.

He was slowly drifting away.

Everyday he prayed for a savior. He had the tiniest sliver of hope in the back of his mind that someone would come and save him from all this darkness.

His prayers were answered in the form of a tall blonde boy with a lip ring. But was he able to save Ashton in time?

(or the cliche fic where Ashton’s depressed with an abusive father but when Luke Hemmings moves into the neighborhood, his dark clouds open up to reveal a sunshine)

#5sosfanfictioncatalogue #5sos fanfic #5sos #mature #mature masterlist #masterlists

[kinetic-elaboration]

July 18: My So-Called Life 1x18 Weekend

I don't have a ton to say about Weekend other than stuff I've probably said a thousand times before... I love this episode, but the kids' story line is way better than the adults'. I just have so much affection for Patty. Trying so hard Patty. I want her to plan my vacation, and I want her to have better people in her life than oblivious Graham, annoying Neal, and... well actually Cheryl I didn't mind.

Mostly it just makes me sad when people are mean to her and abandon her.

I thought it was interesting that Graham gave Cheryl his sweater and this is played up as a big deal because what it actually showed me was, honestly, Graham has no awareness of how his own actions may read. He doesn't see that as a sign of affection, as it might be construed in other circumstances, and he doesn't see fixing Hallie's car that way either. He was not on the edge of an affair, I will maintain this forever. Really the only question for me is how that woman from the pilot got as close as she did to sleeping with him. She must have put in a lot of work.

Anyway. The teen storyline is just great. Just a fun use of all the characters and legitimately funny, and a nice break after the last episode and before the finale. I love that Rickie is so comfortable at Mr. Katimski's house. He says 'you too' before he hangs up the phone with him and I really wonder what he's saying. Not I love you, that would be weird, but like maybe something like have fun or have a good weekend or something like that? Idk. It just feels so domestic and home-y and I love that for him. I also love that Rickie is like finally getting what he wanted: not just a stable home environment but also just some rest? He doesn't love the drama. He is exhausted from so much Rayanne. He wants the quiet anniversary party with the oregano seasoning. He wants to give excuses to Rayanne and hang out with Angela at her house. Which, like, same, this seems like a pretty fun lounging around weekend to me.

Because I do actually legit ship Brian and Rayanne a little bit, their interactions were fun for me. Brian on top this time lol.

Rayanne is definitely burning some bridges at this point but the thing is she does attract people to her. Brian, Sharon of course, Danielle. She's one of those people who is simultaneously a mess and also very magnetic. Her conversation with Danielle was interesting... She sees everything around her in slow motion and she just needs something to happen. A sign of immaturity? Of something... diagnosable? To me it's just so very her in a nutshell. She cannot be still. She cannot just be with herself. I'm sure in some ways being handcuffed for over 24 hours really sucked, her nightmare in some ways, and in that sense I can see why she'd try to run as soon as she's free, even if that is a very jerk move. She's so over the top in this episode (calling herself Raygun?), so obviously faking...everything, except that conversation with Danielle, it's like red flags everywhere of the place she's in.

The moment when Angela sees Danielle and Rayanne sleeping together was very touching. Like sisters, except Rayanne isn't her family, she's not even in Angela's life anymore. But Angela still knows her so well, as the last bit with the key showed.

I was really obsessed this watch through with this line about the hardware store not being open until Monday. What sort of hardware store isn't open on weekends? What sort of stores are not open on weekends other than like maybe Sunday in the blue law sense? But Saturday? Does this whole suburb of Pittsburgh just shut down for 2 days every week? Do people who need wire shears have to take time off work, like vacation hours, to go run their errands? Why is the Pleasure Center still open? I have so many questions.

Also I think we were really robbed a scene of Brian and Sharon at the Pleasure Center.

Or Brian and Rayanne. Just for fun.

#the year 2023 #2023: fandom thoughts #2023: my so called life