#let me make it neat and put it in a system!!!!!!!

[waitineedaname]

I gripe a lot about my job but I do have to admit I appreciate working in the main office bc my boss has figured out I love organizing things so he'll give me tasks like "do you want to alphabetize the timesheet folders" and I can be like YES. YES I DO WANT TO DO THAT.

[meowdei]

part two

Starting an internship at the company Satoru’s father owns but you don’t know who he is just yet.

He’s annoying. He always comes back from lunch late, lets his phone ring at his desk (that’s conveniently placed next to yours) past the three ring policy, writes emails with silly and immature sign-offs, cracks jokes during meetings, and somehow, despite always finishing his paperwork late, he never manages to lose his damn job.

You try to mind your own business. But you can’t help but feel him slowly grate at your nerves as he acts so unprofessional and for some weird reason, not one person seems to care.

He seems pretty intrigued with you, too, if matters couldn’t get worse.

“Hey,” he grins. You try to ignore the tilt of his lips in amusement as you just barely fight off rolling your eyes.

“Can I help you with something?” You sigh, “I’m currently in the middle of something that requires my full attention, but maybe we could—”

“You really love your office jargon,” he hums, cutting you off with a wider grin, “so dedicated.”

“Oh, my apologies,” you smile tightly. He seems to straighten a little, some sick, twisted form of excitement rushing through his system at the way he seems to get under your skin. “Allow me to use simpler language for you to understand: go away, I’m busy.”

Someone has to stand up to this prick, you think. He puts in half the effort, and somehow, you’re pretty sure your boss has a soft spot for him. You don’t understand it, and quite frankly, you’ll be damned if a lazy, lackluster man snags a promotion before your hardworking self.

“Oh wow,” he snorts, “breaking your strictly professional streak, are you? You must be really occupied. I guess I’ll borrow your stapler later.”

Gritting your teeth, you give him yet another tight lipped smile before grabbing the stapler off your desk and handing it to him. (A small part of you resists the urge to throw it square at his face. Maybe the image of him on the floor with a bloodied nose would make your day a little easier, but then you’re sure you’d be jobless).

“Here you go,” you say with as much kindness as you can muster. (It’s not a lot). “Please do bring it back when you’re done. Some of us actually complete paper work, so the stapler is a necessity.”

“Oh yeah?” He tilts his head, eyes sparkling with mischief, “don’t worry, I won’t hold your stapler hostage for too long. I wouldn’t want to disrupt the flow of your productivity.”

You watch with wary eyes as he walks back to his desk, stapling some small, tiny note of sorts before walking right back, handing the paper and the stapler to you.

“What’s this?” You raise a brow.

“Some paper work for you to fill out,” he grins, the vagueness of his answer making a vein all but pop in your forehead.

Before you even have a chance to tell him that you most certainly will not be entertaining whatever silly prank he’s playing, he walks right off, sagging into his chair as he does an obnoxious little spin and goes back to typing at his computer. Probably yet another email with a ridiculous ending, you think to yourself.

Against your better judgement, you stare at the note, eyeing the small flap he’s stapled over an index card. You lift it up, quickly scanning over his scribbled writing.

Want to grab coffee during lunch? Check your answer:

▢ yes! ▢ absolutely! ▢ most definitely!

Your eye twitches.

Grabbing a pen, you quickly add a box underneath his (very confident) options, checking it off and writing in neat, pristine handwriting:

▣ not a chance!

You stand, walking over to his desk and ignoring his perked up, excited little smile as you drop the note back on the table and head back to your own desk. A tiny wave of satisfaction weaves through your body when you notice him read over your response and deflate, a small pout forming over his lips.

Regretfully, a small part of you can’t help but acknowledge that he’s actually…kind of cute when his lips are curled like that. But a larger part of you shakes that thought away and cringes internally. It’s a shame his personality ruins the genetic blessings he seems to have been bestowed with.

And you think that’s the end of it—but of course, with someone like Satoru in the office, there’s never the end of anything.

You watch as an email pops up on your screen, opening it only to stare blankly at his name and roll your eyes at the subject line:

────────────────────────

Follow-Up on Submitted Paperwork

Greetings office neighbor,

Thank you for submitting the paperwork. Unfortunately, I couldn’t help but notice that it does not fully align with the outlined guidelines. Could you please provide clarification or revise the submission accordingly?

Thanks a million,

Gojo Satoru :)

────────────────────────

And there he goes again with those obnoxious sign-offs, you think bitterly. Instantly, you’re clicking away at your keyboard as you type back an agitated response. Of course, you really shouldn’t entertain his ridiculous schemes, but something about him gets under your skin enough that you simply can’t help yourself.

You huff in approval at your response as you read it over before hitting send.

Instantly, as if he was waiting, you see his hand reach for his mouse and click on his screen to open your email as his eyes scan over your reply:

────────────────────────

Thank you for reaching out,

Unfortunately, I was unable to fully adhere to the outlined guidelines, as they are not viable in this situation. To address this, I adjusted the submission to align more effectively with a more practical outcome.

Hope that helps!

Your office neighbor :)

────────────────────────

Just when you think he’s given up, he rolls his chair over to your desk, causing a couple of annoyed heads to tilt up and glare at him for the noise before turning their attention back to their work. You pinch your nose as his chair rolls to a stop in front of your desk.

“Yes?” You grit through your teeth.

“Hey, office neighbor,” he hums, “just wanted to clarify your most recent email with you. I’m a bit confused.”

“Which part confused you?” You bat your lashes in faux charm, sarcastically smiling at him as he hums, grabbing a piece of candy from your little bowl of sweets at your desk and helping himself.

Your eye twitches a little at the gesture. Those are for you to enjoy throughout a miserable work day.

“Um…” he trails off as he pretends to think, “I’d say all of it.”

“I see,” you nod slowly, fighting every bone in your body not to snap at him with a colorful choice of words. “Essentially, the options in your original document did not highlight a plausible set of deliverables, so I corrected them for you with a more realistic one. Make sense?”

“Not really,” he sighs dramatically, pretending to scratch his head in confusion. You want nothing more than to grab those snowy locks and slam his face into your paper shredder. “Could you go over it one more time? I’m still lost.”

You’re just about to lose your patience with him when suddenly, the entire office seems to collectively take in a sharp breath, everyone scrambling to look as productive as possible while a tall, older looking man with suspiciously familiar white hair and blue eyes walks through the office. Something in your brain sets off alarm bells, but you can’t quite completely piece it together what it is about him seems so….recognizable.

“Who’s that?” You frown, scrunching your nose in confusion as everyone straightens up.

“That would be the final boss,” he snorts. You roll your eyes at his word choice before blinking and straightening up yourself.

“Oh my god,” you gasp, voice a panicked whisper as you ask, “you mean the owner of this company?”

“Yeah,” he drawls, raising a brow at you in amusement. “Never seen him before?”

“No,” you hiss, “I’m just the intern! Now go back to your desk before he thinks we’re goofing off, I’d like to keep my job, please.”

“I don’t think that’ll be a problem,” he hums.

You send him a nasty glare, just about at your wits end as you whisper-yell, “I am going to throw my stapler right at your—”

“Satoru, I need you in my office,” comes a stern, deep voice, interrupting you as you quickly shut your mouth.

“You got it, old man,” he salutes in mock seriousness. Suddenly, your spine goes rigid and your eyes widen. The man walks off with a firm nod as Satoru stands, giving you an innocent smile.

Suddenly, it dawns on you just why he looked so strikingly familiar.

“Did you just call him old man?” You blink, mouth agape.

“Yup,” he winks, walking backwards as his eyes stay trained on you while he heads for the elevator. “I’ll put in a good word for you when he’s in a better mood at home tonight. I think we can discuss the specifics over coffee during our lunch hour, yeah?”

[hinge]

Hinge presents an anthology of love stories almost never told. Read more on https://no-ordinary-love.co

[dilf-luvr-4evr]

Lasso Burns 🐄 ♡

f!reader, fluff, suggestive 18+ / pic creds / divider: @aquazero

“Darlin, it ain’t nothin’.”

You just looked at him then — tired. A click of your tongue and a squint of a glare before your gaze returned to his bleeding palms. “I told you to put on gloves. Packed them in your saddlebag too!”

Arthur had just gotten home from his new job; working with cattle for a ranch. Whether it be herding, wrangling, or feeding; it was honest work despite the low pay and well.. Despite the lasso burns. He hoped to learn the ropes to a life he wished to give you. A life where he was a rancher and not a cowboy.

A life that meant gambling with life less and making you smile more.

I don’t want you to keep runnin’ Arthur, you once said. Like a bullet through a hard head, your words had somehow gotten to him. But put on your damn gloves! Is yet to stick.

In fact, it did not seem to pierce through him at all. Here, under the mercy of his tent on this particularly hot day, he chuckled at your concern. As if his fiancée’s nagging amused him instead of ticked him off.

Maybe he had gotten old after all. Huffed out all the anger in his system and watched it die with one of the many lives he’s lived. Maybe your gentle hands had magically kneaded him soft. Figuratively, of course.

Whatever it is, he would much rather see smoke from your ears than smoke from a gun. Though preferably, no smoke at all.

“Well y’know it’s.. the thrill of the chase. Got no time to pull out gloves, darlin’, you wouldn’t know if you ain’t out there,” he humored in true Arthur Morgan fashion. His baby blues observed the way you cleaned his wounds, occasionally sneaking a peek at your furrowed brows and a forehead so creased, he could iron it smooth. So focused, you couldn’t see how much he adored you.

Well how could he not?

Sweaty skin glimmering whenever it’s caught by the summer sun, plush lips letting out quiet breaths, how you just fit right into place, knee wedged between his on this cot.

Worth every damn scratch from those ropes, he reckoned.

Which ironically is not the point you’re trying to make.

The joke managed to etch a small smile on your pretty face. A mandatory eye-roll went with it as if to say, not so fast. Just to remind him you still aren’t pleased.

“There she is,” he drawled, tilting his head to take a better look at you. One of his few prized talents; making you smile. Blinded, he didn’t even notice how you tightened the bandages.

“You’re full of shit, you know that?”

“But you love me.”

And you did. He doesn’t have to hear further comments. It showed in the neat bow you tied the bandage in. How you didn’t forget to kiss it better too. You’re not fooling anyone. And especially not him.

“That’s why you’re always so sweet to me,” his voice dropped an octave, hands snaking to your waist and sitting you sideways on his lap. “Ain’t that right?”

“Don’t try to be cute,” you’re trying to mute your giggling now, squirming as his crooked smile lazily brushed your jaw.

“And why not?”

“Cause I’m still mad at you.”

“Okay.” Then his fingers slid down the hem of your skirt. A negotiation, you realize as you felt his fingers slowly tiptoe along your leg. “Still mad at me now?”

Well Goddamn.

“Mhm,” you dragged out, price still high. Though if there’s a way to win against Arthur Morgan, you’re starting to have a hard time remembering it now.

Even more so after you felt his hard on pressed under you.

For better or for worse, far more than poker, you’re his favorite thing to play with. And he’s seen you fold enough times to know you’re losing. “How ‘bout now?” Stakes raised, his breath warming your neck with his palm now gripping your thigh.

You whispered a cautionary Arthur! — to which he ignored — while scanning outside his tent. But why did your walls clench at the thought of him fingering you here? Damn him and his big, rough, calloused, weathered-

At the touch of his bandages against your skin, your mind miraculously cleared, striking up a deal. One he won’t like but a good deal regardless.

“Fine, I’ll accept this… little apology. If,” you smirked, voice low in his ear.

“If?” He chased, thumb pausing on your inner thigh.

“You start wearing your gloves.”

“Alright, alright, I will, I promise,” and he’s never grumbled anything so quickly, hand already scrambling to rid you off your bloomers.

“That ain’t what I mean!” You laughed, wriggling out of his grip and shuffling to the edge of his cot.

The speed of this poor, hardworking man’s smile turning into a frown? Faster than any horse.

“Well what did you mean then?” Patience worn thin.

“I mean, you can’t touch me until you wear your gloves tomorrow.”

He let out a loud scoff, his face the most scrunched you’ve ever seen it crumple into.

“Now darlin’.. That just ain’t fair,” he whined, poor wounded hand lightly slapping the cot like a kid.

“Oh but it is. I’m sleeping with the girls tonight. Tomorrow? Depends on you,” you proudly stated, fixing your skirt as you stood up. “I’m goin’ back to Grimshaw now.”

And he’s left there moping.

But.

You best believe he is wearing those damn gloves the next morning.

Claiming his prize as soon as he gets home and making you bite on those same gloves as he fingers you to oblivion and back 😋

Thank you for reading! 🫶🏼

my masterlist

[dog-bimbo]

shiu n his sweet bimbo girlfriend part five 18+ only minors dni part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 a/n based on this ask. thank you nonnie, i wanted a reason to continue this series.

you're in shiu's favourite dress, all ready and excited. he's had a bad day, he needs this. he needs to bury his face in your tits.

but there's one problem.

the new waitress at the bar is cute. not in a way that matters, just in a way that passes time. just a fleeting thought that'll never come back.

like ever.

not many people flirt with him anymore. maybe it's because he's older now, or maybe because he's intimidating.

but when they do, he always lets it play out. he didn’t chase it unless he was looking for a good fuck.

and also, you're here. so he has put a halt to everything.

his brain's scrambled at this point. he isn't even thinking before he speaks.

"you want the whiskey neat?" she asks, leaned over the table, flashing him a rather questionable grin.

he barely glances at her, then lets his gaze linger a little too long.

"yeah, neat’s good," he says, voice lower than necessary. "you’re good at reading people?"

"depends. am i right so far?" she giggles.

"yeah." he laughs, that's what lightened him up, truly.

not you, not that pretty dress, not your adamant resolve to get that stress out of his system.

you stiffen beside him, just a bit.

she's probably outspoken—

"and you—" she turns to you, takes your order politely and quickly, no gimmicks.

he leans back in the chair, completely oblivious to the fact that he's been kind of cheeky with the waitress. he forgets it though, he doesn't think well when he's this tired.

you don’t speak nor do you pout.

you just sit there with your pretty lips pressed together and your jaw tight. you don't want to be difficult, especially when you're boyfriend's this exhausted.

and then you do it—you let out that sigh. the one that says everything without saying anything.

he groans, runs a hand over his face. "oh, for fuck’s sake—"

you blink. wide eyed and confused, "wha—"

"don’t do this, baby. don’t make a thing out of nothing."

your voice is small, you're still confused. “i’m not—”

"you are," he snaps at you. "you think i didn’t see that face? i flirt back with someone clearly doing it for tips—"

you open your mouth again and he cuts you off, he's harsher now.

"you’re so fucking dumb sometimes, you know that?"

you flinch. it’s not the same. usually, when he calls you dumb, it's endearing. he's just being a tease.

because you know no one respects you as much as him.

but right now... he scoffs. he fucking scoffs. he goes twice as bitter too.

"you really think i’m the type to fuck around over a compliment? you think that low of me? or is this just some needy bullshit again?"

your stomach twists, it actually feels bad. you just sit there, the pretty dress you're wearing just for him suddenly feeling all wrong.

and when he finally lets you get a word in—"i didn’t mean it like that, shiu..."

he leans back, scoffs."you never do, baby. that’s the fucking problem."

and for the first time ever, you both drink in absolute silence. you're not rambling about something stupid that happened while you were on the clock and he's not even looking in your direction.

he mindlessly smokes. the next time the waitress came in with a new gimmick, he didn't give it a single thought.

you don’t talk on the way home. your silence is not the kind he can brush off with a hand on your thigh and a smirk.

you’re holding it in, barely.

and then, when he parks, it happens.

a tiny sob slips out, and suddenly it’s all coming up. big, fat tears rolling down your cheeks, you can't stay strong anymore.

“i’m sorry.”

your voice is broken, your hand covers your face like you’re ashamed to be crying at all.

“i didn’t mean to—i didn’t mean to ruin the night. i just…” you trail off, sniffing, wiping at your face in frustration.

he turns to you, jaw clenched, eyes dark—not angry. just… guilty.

"hey."

you shake your head, try to hide it, but he reaches over anyway, thumb brushing under your eye.he exhales slow, "don’t cry, sweetheart."

you flinch a little when he calls you that, it's a whiplash. "i was an asshole back there, i was just tired... not an excuse, i know."

"look at me."

you do.he just lifts you into his lap like it’s instinct.

you’re still crying, hands gripping his suit jacket now, hiccuping and shaky.

his arms circle you. “hey,” he says, voice low, gruff with guilt. “no more of that. c’mere.”

he presses your head into his neck, wraps a hand around the back of it. rubs slow circles over your spine.

you mumble something—he can’t even make it out.he kisses the top of your head, rests his chin there.

“you didn’t ruin anything,” he says, quieter now. “i did. and i'm so sorry..." he's never been this expressive before. he's actually sorry. you can feel him shaking a bit, he's nervous. he's holding onto you like you might leave him. for a while, that's how the both of you are. quiet. not tense. just... reflective.

your face is still pressed into his neck when he mutters, almost to himself, “can’t believe i made you cry in this dress..”

you sniff, “…what?”

he tilts his head a little, he’s trying to get a better look at your face.

*you know how fucking good you looked tonight? i'm a fucking jackass doll.”

you mumble, “stop it…” you let out a breathy giggle, oh you're so soft for him.

he smiles. you try to hide your face again but he doesn’t let you. he just tilts your chin up, “there’s that dumb little giggle i like.”

you whine, “it’s not dumb.”

“sure it is,” he murmurs, brushing a tear off your cheek. “but i love it. and i love you."

and somehow, just like that, you're back to your old self. a bit tired, a bit dizzy—not with need, but in a tired way. and when he kisses your forehead again, you feel even softer.

"you gotta say it back, baby." he pouts, just a bit. this time, he's needy. "i'll think about it."

you giggle yet again, it's like music to his ears.

and the next minute—he's got his seat pulled back, his hands wrapped around you, his cock pressed against your entrance.

"you still thinkin'?" he smirks, grinding just a bit against your entrance.

"quit teasing!" you whine and then, "fuck—" it's too sudden, it's too... it's too fucking good. he pistons his cock, his entire length stuffed in.

you think he's gonna quicken his thrust but...

he's maintaining this toe-curling, eye-rolling pace of his—it's deliberately slow.

intimate. his breaths are shallow, yours too. you grip your hands on his back, tight, not rough.

he latches his lips onto yours now, his hot mouth drives you wild. he tastes so bittersweet, you can swirl your tongue around his forever...

and when you reach your climax, you moan inside his mouth before pulling away, strings of saliva that's connecting your lips with his slowly snapping away.

you start showering him with breathy "i love you"'s and he's going crazy. but he doesn't give into the temptation of increasing his speed.

wrong time, wrong everything.

and when comes inside you, he's on fucking cloud nine. your confessions serenade his ears as he unloads his pent-up stress right inside you.

you can feel him softening up now, you can feel his shoulders dropping down, his chest rising and falling, his eyes droopy.

"i don't fucking deserve you."

the words are slightly slurred, rough and coarse, but it's laced with all the love he has for you.

[beforetimes]

Okay I lied about going to bed. Don’t tell my cat. He’ll be disappointed in me for skipping snoozles and snugs

ANYWAY, further question about the Shizun!LBH and disciple!SQQ au. Does Shen Yuan still blow himself up?? Because I feel like he would (he would it’s canon) and also, so much more ✨ a n g s t ✨ here.

Like yea, canon events were angsty. But in this universe, Luo Binghe was convinced Shen Yuan was dead for years where as Shen Qingqiu always knew Binghe would come back.

And then said disciple suddenly shows up alive in Jin Lan City. They get into situations and misunderstandings. Things happen. Things go wrong.

It absolutely needs to come out publicly at some point (maybe during Luo Binghe’s “trial” I proposed in my last ask 🤔) that Shen Yuan is a demon and probably the new demon emperor everyone’s been hearing rumors about (the system would make him put together an empire like the og did or something probably to make him appropriately villain like). And the ensuing chaos and backlash and controversy of the scandal all culminate into Luo Binghe having a qi deviation driven from his depression the past few years and his grief he never got over and Shen Yuan being right there in front of him but still so far away.

And Shen Yuan, who is absolutely convinced Luo Binghe doesn’t care about him at all, tries to save his Shizun from a deviation and sacrifices himself instead of letting the original goods death catch up with him (he really doesn’t want to die tortured by Luo Binghe). And Luo Binghe can do nothing but watch in helpless horror as his disciple actually dies this time in his arms. And this time, there a body. And no escape from the fact that Shen Yuan is deaddeaddeaddeaddeaddea—

…and yea I just think it’d be neat to watch a human Binghe seeing his disciple die for a second time (he only had him back for a few days was it even real? Did Binghe dream it? Maybe he’s just in a nightmare and he’ll wake up in the morning and Shen Yuan will still be alive and the Immortal Alliance never happened) and loosing it. Like, yea demon!Luo Binghe stole his Shizun’s corpse and slept next to it for five years while fighting the war god, which was a kinda weird, but he at least had the excuse of being a half demon going crazy from Xin Mo.

What’s human!Binghe’s excuse?

dw we'll keep it btw us. your cat will never know.

and oughhh. see i wasn't sure about the stuff that'd go down post-abyss when i initially started posting about this au but!! the way you describe the way the plot would twist to suit shen yuan and luo binghe's new roles are. so good. and makes me actually want to look more in depth at that period of time instead of staying in the perpetual pre abyss limbo (which happens to be my favourite part of the book if i'm being honest. LOL.)

love the continued emphasis on the fact that luo binghe thinks shen yuan is dead especially because i don't think shen yuan, with how oblivious he generally is, would realize why this seems to be such a big deal to luo binghe. or why he seems so constantly surprised and speechless around him. to him this is just going through the motions of the story but he's not like. 10% in the front of his mind aware that everyone else doesn't know what to expect.

and ouh the qi deviation. i'm slightly torn between whether or not it should be shen yuan or luo binghe who essentially blows themselves up. because i can see the argument for luo binghe, since they're changing places and the amount of stress from the past few years definitely would've gotten to him but!!! i think the angst potential with shen yuan—very confused from the back and forth luo binghe's been putting him through, weilding xin mo, losing grasp of the plot he's spent more than a decade obsessing over, waiting for his inevitable death only for the rug to be pulled out from under him—i think he'd lose it! i think he'd self destruct and think the world better for it because then he doesn't have to die fighting his shizun; he doesn't want the last thing he has to do on this earth be hurting luo binghe after everything. so he implodes, almost, expecting to fall apart alone and hated.

but luo binghe! steps close to him, takes the sword away, "dies" in the process. because like. i love the idea of luo binghe dying while knowing he loves shen yuan. while shen yuan is left behind to process for however long it takes to realize that as well. all the while left searching somewhere for luo binghe's body. (in my minds eye, luo binghe disappears due to the system's intervention; they can't let their main character die! so he's whisked away for his body to heal in a sort of limbo before he's returned to the world again).

i also think it would be soooo fun for shen yuan, during the years where he's alive while luo binghe is presumed dead to grow intensely obsessive / possessive of just the idea of him. sort of turning the tables on their first dynamic where luo binghe saw shen yuan as a puzzle to solve that he got somewhat obsessive over. but that's just my idea for the implosion thing. as for the trial and water prison—! i will figure that out some other time i think. smile.

masterpost

[avis-writeshq]

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!reader genre: established relationship warnings: mentions of assault, tiny bar fight, mentions of alcohol consumption a/n: i wasn't really sure how much i liked this, but i hope you guys do! i wanted to post something because i won't be online much for finals :( wc: 1.16k

You meant it when you offered to get the drinks for the table. You offer to do the first round: four rum and cokes, whiskey (neat, because Aaron would rather get his money’s worth) and whatever bright pink concoction Penelope ordered written neatly in purple glittery gel pen on an old receipt. Rossi’s glass of wine that he ordered costs double the entire order, and Spencer orders an Arnold Palmer. 

“Did you want to start a tab?” The bartender asks kindly, her pretty green eyes framed by dark brown hair clipped by a barrette. 

“Oh! Um, sure.” You smile, gesturing to the booth where the rest of the team were sitting at. “You can put it down for that table.”

She nods, tapping a few buttons on her POS system before looking back up at you. “There’s already a card for that table. Under… Aaron Hotchner?”

Your brows lift in surprise at her words, a laugh of disbelief leaving your lips. “Of course he did. That’s fine, thank you.”

You return carrying a tray of far too many drinks, setting them down with a soft sigh of relief. Everyone takes their respective drinks while Aaron pulls you into his side, his thigh pressing against yours as he lets his lips linger on the side of your head. 

“Thank you for that,” he murmurs lowly into your ear, squeezing at the flesh of your waist. His other hand swirls his whisky around the glass. “Did you carry them alright?”

“Mm. I’ll have to go back to get Penny’s drink. The lady at the bar said it’ll be in a couple minutes or so because the order was so specific.” You’re smiling at him despite your original annoyance. “I meant it when I said that I would treat everyone to the first round of drinks.”

“I meant it when I said that I would take care of you,” he responds simply. “The drinks they ordered was more than just a pretty penny.”

From the corner of your eye you spot the bartender waving you over, and you laugh before  pressing a soft kiss against Aaron’s face. “I’ll be right back, handsome.”

You really did mean it when you said that you would be right back. With a napkin wrapped around the cocktail glass, you turn around to make your way back to the table when a voice catches your attention. 

“Pretty drink for a pretty girl,” the man comments, and it takes a second for it to register in your mind. 

“Oh. Thank you, it’s for my friend and she is really pretty.” You smile politely. Wrong move.

“Not as pretty as you, I’m sure,” he continues, his eyes gleaming in your direction. You don’t really appreciate the way he thinks that his words are a proper compliment. “Let me buy you a drink, sweetheart. The name’s Colby.”

“That’s alright, I really do need to get back to my group.” You take a hesitant step away but he takes another step forward. 

This is dangerous, how close this stranger is. Anxiety wells in your throat and your stomach drops with nerves. 

“Just one drink,” Colby insists, inching closer. “C’mon, sweetheart, don’t be such a stick in the mud.”

“I don’t need one,” you say, searching for  your voice. “Excuse me…”

Colby scowls, taking a step forward as he tries to prevent your escape. His fingers graze against your side dangerously close to the waistband of your pants and you can’t help but jolt, the glass slipping from your grasp and shattering against the cold tile of the bar floor. Your heart plummets to your stomach as the man grunts in frustration. 

“Look at what you did,” he snaps, shaking the drink off his hands. His eyes are dangerous as he glares at you, his hand lunching up and out, aiming directly for your arm. “You little–”

“That is enough.”

You almost cry out in relief when you see Aaron step in front of you, effectively shielding you away from the assault. He’s big and tall, and though you do not see him upset very often, it is even rarer for you to see him angry and mean. 

Aaron stretches to his full height, his eyes narrowed and his gaze dark. He stares down this man– this pathetic excuse of a human being– with the same hatred and disgust as he does with the unsubs he faces on the daily. 

“Oi, back off, would ya?” Colby sneers, crossing his arms over his chest. Aaron has half the mind to think that he would start stomping around like a petulant child. 

For once, Aaron wastes no time digging into his suit pocket and pulling out his badge, a grim look on his face. “FBI. If you make one more comment or so much as glance in her direction again, I will be arresting you and taking you in for custody before you can breathe your next breath. Do you understand me?”

The silence is almost deafening and Aaron finds his patience withering with every passing second. 

“I said, do you understand me?”

“Fuck you,” Colby snaps, drunkenly lunging with his fists clenched to clock Aaron in the face.

Aaron resists the urge to roll his eyes as he handcuffs Colby’s arms behind his back, dragging him out of the bar. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in court…”

Everything after that is a blur. The bar awards you and the rest of the team free drinks and food for the remainder of your stay, and Colby is taken off to the nearest police precinct in record time. Regardless of all the delicious food, your appetite no longer exists as you curl into Aaron’s side, his arm draped lazily around your shoulders. 

“Are you alright?” He murmurs, his lips grazing lightly against your forehead. “I’m sorry that something like that happened. You didn’t deserve to go through that.”

“You didn’t deserve to almost be punched in the face,” You respond back, a wry smile spreading across your lips.

He laughs, squeezing your shoulder. “He was punching air, sweetheart. I don’t really know where he was aiming, but there was no way that he was going to actually hit me.”

Aaron watches you, the way you turn away from him and pick at your fingers. He exhales after a moment, dipping his head to meet your woeful gaze. “None of this–” he gestures to where one of the staff members is carefully cleaning up the broken glass– “is your fault. I hope you understand that. What happened was not your fault and you shouldn’t blame yourself for someone else’s actions.”

His words make you smile a little and you can’t help but press a soft kiss against his cheek. “Yeah. You’re lovely, Aaron, you know that?”

“I could say the same for you, sweetheart,” he murmurs, squeezing your shoulder again. “You’re the loveliest.”

reblogs are always appreciated!

[wandixx]

Count the freckles, connect them like the stars part 1, Virgo

Summary: Five time Danny found and drew constellations from M'gann's freckles and one time she did that for him

Danny wasn’t quite sure how he went from “visiting Mount Justice to train with the Team” to “half laying on the kitchen island and watching M’gann cook”, but he was glad it happened. He had had rough fight with Skulker the day before, so every opportunity to not move was a salvation. Most likely, rest of the Team left him off the hook exactly because they caught it. They all were cool like that.

He smiled, slowly shifting a little to be more comfortable. He liked watching people doing things they like and know well. There was something mesmerizing about it.

The fact, that he could eat some of whatever she ended up making was a great addition. He was always ravenous when away from an ectoplasm central that was Amity Park.

He followed her hands with his eyes, with chin pillowed on his folded arms. There wasn’t as much she did with them as other people would in kitchen, her telekinesis was certainly a great aid, but there was still enough movement to be transfixed on. Especially today, when something in the back of his mind insisted that there was something unusual about her. She was explaining how she found recipe, on accident when looking for something so different that to this day she wasn’t sure how she ended up with this instead, how it was supposed to be super filling so she hoped they’ll all like it, especially Danny and Wally, because then she could make it somewhat regularly and they could have something more healthy than granola bars. He appreciated sentiment even if he insisted she didn’t have to.

He wondered if there was a polite and not weird way to say he’d eat wet carton if she served it to him.

Small sheet of paper and bullpoint pen landed right in front of him, close enough that he felt air move from them.

“Can you add canned tomatoes to the shopping list? English letters still come out unreadable when I try writing them and do something else”

“Sure”

At this point he stopped trying to explain that being able to write clearly when not looking at the paper was not a skill many people had even if English was only language they could write in. It kept falling on the deaf ears. Apparently it was something Martians just did.

Danny maintained his opinion that if they wanted, Martians could rule whole Solar System. And some nearby star systems. Maybe whole galaxy, in a really distant future.

He straightened up in his seat (ouch, ouch, ouch, his body was not a fan of this move), because unfortunately he needed hands, proper posture and quite a lot of focus to write in a way that would be readable to anyone outside of medical field.

Before he could drop back down, satisfied to just watch world around him without having to interact with it in any way, a freckled hand put a plate of some pasta in front of him. Despite tomatoes, it wasn’t spaghetti, which was neat. He promised Sam to try out vegetarian-Wednesdays and sure, she probably wouldn’t know if he ditched it one time, but still. It was nice that M’gann remembered.

He followed her hand with his eye for a moment longer, not quite ready to let go of whatever seemed to be there. It didn’t look too different from usual. Shade of her skin was the same, her fingers stayed short and slender and her freckles were different, but they never really stayed the same, so it wasn’t that either.

“Quit peeping, start eating” she said cheerily, flicking him on the forehead. He smiled and obediently looked at his meal. Before long though, his eyes flickered back to her. What was different? What was-

There.

“Did you know your freckles look like stars today?”

“They do?”

“Yeah. You have Virgo and Cassiopeia on your right forearm”

“Believe it or not, this tells me nothing. I don’t know Earth names for stars yet”

Right. He was an idiot.

He just barely stopped himself from face planting into his pasta in embarrassment.

“Tell me about them?” she asked quietly, like she wasn’t sure if she could.

Danny took a moment to make sure he heard this question right. Usually people tried to shut him down as soon as he mentioned space because he was prone to getting way too obsessive. It was understandable, it could be endearing when he was younger but now it was just plain annoying. Sam and Tucker sometimes indulged in him, especially after he became halfa, with every interest turned up to eleven, but he could never shake off the feeling that they weren’t really listening at times. He didn’t have anything to prove it, it wasn’t like they were taking out something else to do at the same time or anything, but also… they never asked about anything either. He’d catch himself making some small mistake that they should’ve caught too, mispronounce something they knew or say 19-11 instead of 16-11 when talking about invention of telescope, but there was nothing indicating they heard anything wrong.

It didn’t mean he wasn’t dying to tell her. He just didn’t want to chase her away. M’gann was a good friend.

“Are you sure? I can be pretty annoying about it”

“I want to learn. And you want to tell me”

Danny forgot to breathe for a moment and he wasn’t sure what caused it. M’gann looked at him like a deer in the headlights.

“I’m not reading your mind, at least not intentionally, you’d know if I did,” she stammered out quickly “But ghosts feelings are really loud, it’s hard to ignore that. Like… if everyone else’s mind is like a house with closed door, one of the older ones with brick walls and smaller windows and such, ghosts have greenhouses at best. Usually they’re also shouting whatever is inside that could potentially not be visible at the first glance. It’s hard to ignore. In your human form you’re usually just like a house with bigger windows and more see through curtains, but today you’re unusually loud. I think it’s because you’re healing so your ghost side is a bit closer to the surface”

“Ah. Alright, cool, cool”

“I can try to deliberately ignore you if you want, but it’s hard with how loud you are, and I’m not sure I wouldn’t drown out your verbal speech too. There isn’t much difference from my perspective”

“No, no, no, you don’t have to do anything, I was just surprised. Just maybe… don’t openly say anything about it? Whatever you hear, I’d kinda prefer to forget you can, for now, okay?”

“Sure thing. So, how does the Virgo look like? I like this name better”

Danny smiled and took pen from the grocery list.

“Virgo is one of the biggest constellations on sky in northern hemisphere and it’s best visible in Spring, so we can go try to find it in few weeks, if you want…”

“You’re asking? I’d love to!” she said with wide smile, sounding far too casual for what she just offered to him.

“Yeah? Cool, cool,” he took deep breath to refocus, because his brain was doing weird things again “I think it’ll be better if I show it to you then, with names of the stars and everything. But people like to make stories about stars, just like with any other aspect of the world around them. I can tell you about that?”

“Yeah, yeah, stop asking, start explaining”

"Okay, so it's a constellation from Babylonian and Greek zodiac. It's associated with goddesses, usually. I never remember the name of the Babylonian one, she was really important one though. Like, queen of gods, I think. Then, through Phoenicians, Greeks learned about Babylonian constellations and decided to adopt it, but they couldn't agree on which goddess should be in reflected in Virgo. So, some said it was Demeter, Goddess of Harvest and all that plant stuff. Others decided it was Cora or Persephone, she had two names, Demeter's daughter, and Godless of Spring and queen of the Underworld, which kinda makes sense, since according to myths, she was more or less trapped in Underworld throughout autumn and winter, and then returned to her mother and happiness of their meeting is what kick-starts the spring. It connects nicely with the fact that Virgo actually gets visible at the start of the Spring but Sun passes through it in autumn, though I'm not sure if some of that isn't caused by slight shift that happens over the course of the years... which is not what I was supposed to talk about sorry"

Feather-light fingers brushed against his hair. He leaned into it with slight smile.

"It's fine. Talk about what gets on your mind, I’m happy to listen," M'gann said gently "So, there were these two possible goddesses who could be represented by this Virgo constellation"

He gently grasped the hand that had this constellation on it, and put a pen down at the first freckle. He haven’t really thought about it, but it felt like the right thing to do.

"Actually, there is third one,” he whispered, suddenly feeling like anything louder would be wrong “She is my favorite for the story, though I don't quite know why. It's probably mostly that Demeter and Persephone have their other times to shine and i just don't see them in stars," line was made connecting two freckles -two stars- as if it was astronomical guide. The thin tipped pen needed a bit of pressure before it left the mark behind. M'gann skin dipped under it more than he realized it should "Her name is Astrea, Goddess of Justice and Innocence. She was one of the titans, so before the gods, though specifics aren't really important. She, unlike both titans and gods, lived among humans. Others preferred mountain tops, respectively Othrys and Olympus-"

"Oh! It's the name that humans gave to that volcano on M'arzz, isn't it?" M'gann asked, sounding delighted to connect information he was giving her to something familiar. Danny didn't raise his head from where he was marking her skin. He didn't know why this felt wrong either. There was something almost sacred in it though.

"Yeah. Since it's the biggest mountain in Solar System, so we named it after mythical home of gods"

"That's nice"

For a moment, they sat in silence, interrupted only by slow breaths and humming of the fridge.

"So, Astrea lived among humans. How did she end up among stars?"

"She was one of the Titans, and back when they reigned, it was a mythical Golden Age. Humanity was pure and innocent and only needed what nature provided us, without having to put in any work. There was no change in seasons, so they didn't even have to worry about scarcity of resources in winter" he lightly went over lines he drew between Spica and Porrima so he could continue on his journey down to Syrma and other stars. He didn’t really raise his pen above M’gann’s skin, just eased it away slightly, so it wouldn’t write for a moment “It was a paradise. But then the gods came and overthrown most titans because of feud that isn't really relevant here. This war was called Tytanomachy and was so destructive that it wiped out all of humans. They were remade later, but slightly worse, slightly less pure. Also, seasons became the thing, so they had to develop agriculture and architecture. They were no longer perfect, but still innocent and righteous enough for Astrea to stay. But with time came Bronze and Iron Ages, with weapons and money and wars and impiety, and people became greedy and cruel and unjust and just against everything she really stood for. So she ascended to heavens, and became constellation of Virgo. But she is said to return at the end of times and bring new Golden Age with her"

“It’s… really pretty story. I like how despite this narrative of living in the worst of times, times so bad that even goddess couldn’t handle, there is little bit of hope for return of the paradise”

"Humanity has a lot of hope in it... And also a lot of «grass is greener on the other side» syndrome, with assuming that times before were better and easier, simply because we don't know about problems people faced back then. Just fill in blanks in a way that fits us"

"I mean, this is similar to a way I decided to escape to Earth, and I'm not complaining"

He finished of last line.

"Neither am I. Nor any other person on the Team. And everyone you saved. Are you, perhaps aspect of Astrea walking around us to see if it's right time to return?" he asked, before he realized how stupid and mortifying this idea was. For a moment, they just looked at each other, with this weirdly intimate tension between them, that almost made him consider the chances of his stupid joke having some merit to it before-

M’gann laughed, bright and loud. Danny joined her, but quickly stopped when overtired muscles reminded him why exactly it was a bad idea.

"Shut up and eat your pasta, you dork. It won’t be any good if it’s cold"

[taffywabbit]

"why not just make your own website?"

with the announcement of cohost's death and amidst all the other tumultuous shit currently going on with social media as a concept (i am AMAZED twitter has survived this long given the circumstances), one suggestion that i've been hearing a lot is "we should just go back to the good old days of personal websites. let's all just make neocities pages!!"

(this is gonna be a long one sorry)

and like. idk! it's certainly something i've considered, i think it would be a fun thing to have, but it also feels like the equivalent of "capitalism sucks so let's all just run off into the woods and live in a cabin outside of society" to me. like it would be nice, it would be fun, but it doesn't ultimately solve the actual problems that are present with the modern internet, it just evades them. more importantly in my case and many others, it does not really help people who rely on the modern internet and the connections they're able to make there for their income. sure i can make a website and host my art and blog posts there, but who's going to see it? i can't build a consistent audience and make a living off of random passersby who peek at my website once, say "huh, neat!" and MAYBE add it to an RSS feed or whatever if they really like it. there's minimal potential for meeting and impressing new people outside my existing circles if i don't ALSO still have some manner of social media platform to promote the website on.

a lot of the "solutions" i see people proposing for the slow, painful decline of social media as a user experience keep coming back to old-fashioned, more isolated/insular systems. we miss forums, we miss personal webpages, we miss newsletters, etc etc. but like... those things were ideal in the "old web" because the old web was more about sharing hobbies and interests with whoever happened to pass by and check them out, and even just USING the internet was a niche hobby in and of itself for a lot of people. if you wanna be kinda cynical about it (and not unjustifiably so), web 2.0 is much more blatantly business-oriented, and its algorithms and carefully crafted UX's are primarily meant to funnel you towards viewing ads and spending money on products. looking at it that way, it sure does suck and Everything Was Better Before! but the modern web is ALSO more powerful than anything before it for just like. connecting people. spreading information and news. showing your art/music/writing/thoughts/etc to strangers who never knew you existed an hour ago. putting the tools to reach out to someone and tell them you think they're cool right there on the same website where their art is hosted, just a comment or a message away.

if you're able to avoid patterns of engagement-bait and obsessing over follower counts as a measure of self-worth (a big "if", i realize, but i view it like installing an adblocker - it's just kind of a basic prerequisite for modern internet safety and survival), a lot of these systems can genuinely be really positive and life-changing in ways that were simply not possible 20 years ago! almost all of my current closest friends are people I met through sharing our art on platforms like Twitter who were complete strangers at the time. all of the art clients that regularly pay my bills and support my work came from places like that too! the "social" part of "social media" is really what makes it ultimately worth keeping around in any form, and makes the pursuit of a Good social media platform still valuable.

there's a lot to love about the old web - its aesthetics, simplicity and freedom for personal expression - but every time someone says "just delete your socials and make a personal website" i am forced to confront the fact that i could never do what i currently do or be the person i am on the old web. if i was stuck hanging out in my own little space and only ever interacting with people who openly and loudly share my interests, i couldn't support myself with art full-time, i probably would never have met the kind and quiet strangers who are now my best friends and have made me who i am, and i'd just generally get a lot less insight into the vast range of experiences and perspectives that exist outside of my own. my life would be on a fundamentally different trajectory in countless ways without the advent of web 2.0.

and that's not to say "well twitter and facebook and tumblr all suck but you kinda still have to hand it to them" cuz you don't, obviously. they're corporations, and their job is to take the personalities and thoughts and art of the people who use their products and try to scrunch it all into something uninform and marketable that generates profit and pleases their shareholders. but like, you CAN still make a good thing out of them! these websites are tools just as much as geocities or myspace or IRC used to be. and the one thing these newer tools are pretty much all REALLY good at is discoverability. if you're just a hobbyist at the things you wanna share on the internet, then you likely don't have a lot of use for those tools, and perhaps you WOULD genuinely be happier just keeping a personal blog site or hanging out in private groupchats or sticking to specialized federated Mastodon instances or whatever. it just isn't feasible for me, and there are a LOT of people in my same situation. my entire industry of online freelance artists barely existed 20 years ago, and the web culture of that era is largely incompatible with my continued survival in the mid-2020s. i would LOVE to run off and live in the woods in concept, but all my survival skills are adapted for city living and i would just eat the wrong berry and die out there. i want- i NEED people to try and improve the spaces we're in, and support better forms of social media (like what cohost was trying and largely succeeding to do!) instead of just complaining that it all sucks, everything was better when we were kids, and digging ourselves little holes to hide in. much like all the other problems and frustrations and systemic issues of the world we live in, the modern web isn't going to go away if you just ignore it, so we may as well try to make it better for everyone.

anyways tl;dr i probably WILL make a neocities at some point. it could be fun, even if it doesn't help my career stability or whatever. but i do also need ALL THE SOCIAL PLATFORMS I USE FOR MY JOB TO STOP EXPLODING PRETTY PLEASE, and failing that, some actual half-decent alternatives that aren't going to fizzle out in a month would also be great thanks ✌

[kilojulietsierra]

Jack and Sam Universe:

Emory and Yolonda are Jack’s sisters he never wanted

He helps Emory pack up and move after her divorce and talks about setting up security and offers to be her emergency contact.

Jack uses his connections to look into guys Yolonda is dating to make sure he’s safe. even though she’s going to be a surgeon Jack talks and helps her through tough cases and sends her medical journals that are interesting.

And when Sam is having a hard week at work he plans a surprise spa day for the girls because he knows sometimes his wife needs time with her best friends.

Jacks love language is acts of service - and it extends to his wife’s best friends who’ve become his sisters.

Walsh

- Jack is on the patio smoking a cigar w/ a glass of scotch, reading on Sam’s iPad while Hogans Hero’s reruns play on the Tv. It’s nearly midnight so his cell phone ringing surprises him. His heart rate jumps when he sees it’s Sam.

- They have a rule. No phone calls during work, texts only… unless it’s an emergency…

- “You okay?”

- She doesn’t sound quite right when she says, “yeah baby, I’m fine”

- He breaths a little deeper, “what’s wrong?”

- “Em called,” Sam takes a breath and tells him everything as quickly and succinctly as she can

- 10 minutes later he’s slipping his holster into the waistband of his jeans and grabbing a handful of empty duffle bags out of the closet.

- 20 minutes later he’s letting himself in through the front door of emery’s house

- The first thing she says when she sees him is “im sorry” and he can hear the quiver in her voice so he doesn’t think much of it he just wraps her up in a hug “nothing to be sorry for” and lets her squeeze him tight until she gets her tears under control again.

- She swears up and down she’s not going to stay with them for long. She’ll get her own place as soon as the lawyer says it’s okay. Jack and Sam both tell her not to worry about it.

- She cleans the house a lot while she stays with them, rearranges the cupboards for maximum efficiency, alphabetizes the pantry by food type and organizes the contents of the fridge by best by dates.

- It drives Jack fucking crazy, it’s too organized to neat, too sterile, but he recognizes Walsh’s need to execute control over something in her life

- “Fucking vampires” Emery mumbles when she goes for a glass of water in the middle of the night and finds them eating lunch on the couch at 1 in the morning. “Easy their Chair Force, don’t want you to pull something” Jack teases when he comes home from a shift and finds her doing sprints on the treadmill in the garage

- Jacks the worst to shop for houses with, Sam warned her and she has to try not to laugh every time they go with her and he chimes in, “you know how many shootings we see out of this neighborhood?” “Neighbors have direct line of sight into your backyard.” “You really want to pay to build a fence on top of everything else?”

- They snipe at each other, a lot, they’re too alike in some regards and too polar opposites in others, but Sam sees it when they listen to each other and it makes her heart happy.

- Emery doesn’t buy any of the houses he finds fault with, and Jack spends more time than he’ll ever admit scrolling Zillow with the filters set to her preferences.

- He helps her put in the security system like they have because she called him, not Sam him, the first night she stayed in the new house alone and couldn’t sleep. He pays for it too.

Garcia

- “Something you’d like to tell me? Mrs. Abbot.” He emphasizes the Mrs preceding HIS last name as he leans over the back of the couch and finds Sam looking at what appears to be a dating app. She just laughs and tips her head back for a kiss. “Yo is trying one of these new dating apps, she keeps sending us screenshots.” She reaches for the back of his head and pulls him in for another kiss. “You have no idea how happy I am I met you before I had to resort to this.” Jack kisses the side of her neck, “remember that the next time you threaten to leave me for someone younger.”

- He watches over her shoulder as Sam scrolls through the photos. “Those are all men.” “Government is sure getting there monies worth out of your medical degree.” “Watch it.” He tugs on her ponytail, until she’s looking him in the eye. “What?” She asks when he cocks an eyebrow at her. “Those,” he points to her phone. ��Are men.” Sam shrugs “guess she feels like shaking things up.”

- Jack comes home from a doctors appointment to the three of them in his living room one day giggling, drinking and air playing Garcias phonescreen on the tv. “Not that guy.” They all turn around and look at him, waiting for an explanation. He doesn’t give one. They swipe accordingly.

- Sam starts sending him screenshots second hand of conversations Garcia is having on the apps. What the fuck is wrong with young men today?

- Abbot crosses paths with Garcia in the er one night and under his breath tells her. “Tell the Ryan guy with the neck tat to fuck off” because if he has to see one more screenshot of some 20-30 something year old douche bag with a job in “finance” ask her how long she plans on being a doctor…

- “Game night? At our house? With dating app guys?” Jack is laying on the couch while Sam sets up the cold therapy machine on his knee, “is shooting myself an option?” His wife tightens the sleeve in place and turns on the pump, “15 minutes for now and we’ll see if the swelling goes down.” She gives him a look and reverts to his previous question “if you act like an ass I might do it for you”

- Jack is sitting at the kitchen counter with his head in his hands “I swear to Christ,” he looks up at the young women across the kitchen from him, “you both are too intelligent to subject yourselves to this shit.” He rubs at his forehead, “is that what all these idiots are like?” When Yolanda and Emery shrug he curses, “Je-sus. Promise me, both of you, that you won’t waste your fucking time on these mouth breathers that can’t comprehend that you aren’t just handing out bandaids all day.”

- The dating app conversations die off after that. Sam tells him eventually, while they’re cuddled up on a day off, that Emery has decided she wasn’t ready to get back out there yet. “What about Garcia?” Sam gave him a little smile “she started asking herself if you would approve of them before she swiped. Narrowed down her options drastically.”

- His relationship with Garcia shifted after that. That attitude was still there, typical for a surgeon, but he noticed she seemed to hesd his opinion just a little more than before.

- She came for his OR consults just a little quicker, if he suggested a risky procedure she looked him in the eye and when he nodded, told her, “I’ll talk you through it, you got this Dr. Garcia.” she believed him.

- Garcia started seeking out the crazy, off the handle shit and bringing it to him. “Have you seen this case report?”, “So I watched this video on YouTube last night, there was this aid worker in Uruguay that performed a…”

- So, he encouraged it. He shared his experiences with her. The things he’d seen and done in Afghanistan and Iraq, the MacGyver shit that they would never, ever teach in med school. The unorthodox shit that saved lives.

- A drive by shooting came in one night while Garcia was following Walsh for on call surgery, Walsh now a full fledged and tenured surgeon herself. Jack stood and watched as Walsh did her exam. He smirked as she turned to Garcia and explained to her, “nipples to navel is no man’s land, right Doc?” She glanced up to Abbot and he gave her a nod, “yes it is, and what does that mean Dr Walsh?”

- It was funny, back when he was their age and learning this shit the hard way in the middle of the fucking desert, he never would have imagined how satisfying it would be, how proud it would make him to watch something he had taught be handed down doctor to doctor.

- Especially these two.

Spa Day

- Sam appears in front of him, still in her scrubs, while he’s on the rowing machine in the garage, her hip cocked and an envelope in her hand. So he slows to a stop and pulls his earbuds out. “Hey baby thought you were going to go shower.” “What’s this?” She holds up the envelope for emphasis. “Looks like an envelope.”

- Pushing twenty years together and he still gets a kick out of making her roll her eyes at him while she tries not to smile.

- Once he’s up and off the machine she looks up at him, “what is this for?” He leans back against her Tahoe and pulls her to him by the hips, “I have listened to you bitch and moan about work, every day this week,” she rolls her eyes again and smacks him on his bare, sweaty chest. “So I thought I would try and do something nice.” He sees the look on her face and stops her before she gets the chance to talk back, “just, take it.” He leaned forward to steal a kiss, “been a minute since I’ve got the chance to spoil you a little, so don’t argue.” He kisses her again “you and your annoying friends,” she smacks him again but then wraps her arms around his neck and he just grins, “can go… get day drunk on mimosas, get massages, roll around in the mud” he laughs when she drops her head down and bites him hard on the shoulder, hard enough he knows it’ll leave a mark, “whatever it is exactly you do at these places.” He kisses the top of her head and drops a hand to squeeze her ass.

- He doesn’t finish his workout, not on the rower anyway.

- When she asks him later, in bed, how he knew when they all had the same day off he chuckles, “unfortunately, I know more about those two than I ever cared to” Sam chuckles too, “shut up, you love them.” Jack just grumbles, but eventually he admits, “they have their moments.”

[writerslittlelibrary]

We can be your family

masterlist part 2

summary: having been in the foster system all your life, you don't expect much when your case worker tells you you're being moved again. what happens when the car suddenly stops in the most expensive neighborhood in all of New York…

pairing: Natasha x teen reader, Maria x teen reader, Blackhill

warnings: mentions of abusive foster families, vague mention of sexual assault 

genre: fluff

words: 3542

a/n: this one was voted for the most, and I'm so happy it was. I was super excited to write this and I love the idea of foster parents Blackhill so much, I think they're adorable. I hope you like it and please let me know what you think and whether you'd want more foster family Blackhill :) 

maybe I’ll make this a two parter or a series, seeing as I found this already pretty long but I do want to write more about it

You do not have my permission to repost, copy or translate my work

 |——————————— ⴵ ———————————|

It was late when the car came to a stop. It had been two days ago when you were told you were going to have a new foster family. You had been moving around all your life, having been left at the door of a police station merely days after you were born. You had never met your parents, and you were put into the foster system almost immediately. 

No one had ever adopted you, which unfortunately for you meant that you were still going from foster family to foster family, sometimes even group homes when there were no foster families available. 

In your life, you had learned it was best never to connect with your foster families. Usually, it didn't take very long until you were off to the next one anyway.

And so, two days ago when the service worker called, you had started mentally preparing for the next mess you were going to be thrown into. You had learned that most foster families were only in it for the money, and that was often very noticable, ever after the first day you'd be there. Often, they didn't care much for you, which was fine. You were perfectly capable of taking care of yourself. It was the times they did care for you when you had to be careful.

When they did care, they'd usually have a long list of ridiculous rules, all of which you had to follow. When you failed to follow their ridiculous rules, there'd usually be some type of insane punishment, which more often than not ended up with you hurt, usually because you'd take a beating.

You were a little nervous to meet a new foster family, worried they'd be another collection of horrible people that called themselves a family, yet, you weren't quite fond of the family you were with now, so you didn't care much.

For now, you'd simply hold on to the hope that this new foster family would be better than the old one. 

When your case worker came, you'd already packed. Seeing as you had never owned a lot of objects, you were done rather quickly. All your stuff easily fit in one trash bag, your valuable objects, such as your beloved stuffed bunny and your favorite book were all put in your school bag.

When you had gotten into the car, you definitely didn't expect much, but when the car drove through one of the most expensive neighborhoods in New York, you were definitely surprised that that is where the car stopped. 

Either your case worker was gonna leave you at the dumpster, or your new foster family is rich rich. 

Alice opened the door for you with a smile, and she got your (trash) bag from the trunk. You held onto your school bag tightly as Alice walked inside the huge apartment building, you following closely behind. When you were both inside, Alice walked to the large reception desk at the left side of the lobby. A man dressed in a neat suit sat behind it.

You had never ever been in an apartment complex fancy or rich enough to have a security guard in the lobby. 

You were standing next to Alice as she told the security guard you were there for a Miss Romanoff and a Miss Hill. You were looking around the large and beautiful (and extremely fancy) lobby, too busy to even notice Alice mention two women.

The man typed some numbers on some device, then pointed Alice towards the elevator. Alice walked towards it, and you followed suit, too nervous to even spare a glance towards the security guard. 

Even the elevator looked fancy, and to say you were surprised when Alice pressed the penthouse button would be an understatement. 

When the elevator made it all the way to the top, Alice let you walk out first. There was only one door in front of the elevator, and you figured the penthouse was the only residence on the floor. You turned to Alice, who stood there waiting for you to knock on the door. You took a deep breath and took a few steps forward, pressing the fancy looking doorbell. How rich were these people if they even had a fancy looking doorbell?

The door opened soon enough, a brunette standing in the door frame with a smile on her face. She looked nice, but in your many years of experience you had learned that looks could be very deceiving. 

“You must be y/n,” she said as she looked at you, and you were too nervous to do anything but nod. She gave you a kind smile before shifting her gaze to Alice, glancing at the trash bag with concern. Alice took a step forward, extending her hand to the woman. 

“You must be Miss Hill. I'm Alice, we spoke on the phone,” she mentioned as she shook the hand of Miss Hill. “I am indeed, I'm so glad you could make it.”

Miss Hill stepped aside, allowing you to look into the penthouse. 

“Please come in, my girlfriend will join us shortly,” she said, and you took small steps into the apartment. Girlfriend? You could've known. She looked too well dressed to be straight…

Alice followed you inside, and stood awkwardly in the little hallway as Miss Hill closed the door. She walked in front of you and went to the right, walking into an expensive looking kitchen. It had a kitchen island, and around it were a few high stools. 

“You can sit down right here if you want. Would you like anything to drink?” Miss Hill asked, and you just shook your head. She then turned to Alice, who also shook her head with a smile. “No thank you, I'll be going shortly,” she stated as she set the trash bag next to the kitchen island, reaching into her own shoulder bag for a few papers.

She pulled out a map with documents, just as another woman joined you. “Oh, Miss Romanoff, so glad I got to see you too,” Alice stated as Miss Romanoff walked towards her, shaking her hand with a small but pleasant smile.

Miss Romanoff went to stand next to Miss Hill, both standing across from you as Alice handed the map to Miss Romanoff.

“Here are the last documents, and I will be going then. If you have any questions don't hesitate to let me know, my number is somewhere in there. Of course there will be some surprise inspections, and if you would like to get rid of the child please contact the number at the bottom,” Alice stated, and you grimaced at the words she used. 

Natasha was uncomfortable with the use of words as well, but you missed the worried glance she sent you and she took the documents from Alice. 

You just kept your gaze on your hands, picking at the skin around your fingers as Miss Hill walked Alice out. When she returned, she took a seat, Miss Romanoff now sitting as well. 

“So, y/n, I am Natasha, and this here is my girlfriend Maria. It is so nice to meet you,” Natasha smiled, but you kept your gaze on your hands. When Natasha noticed you weren't going to reply, she continued speaking. “I know this must be very scary for you, but I just want you to know it's a little scary for us as well. This is our first time fostering anyone, so if we make any mistakes you just let us know okay?” Natasha asked, and you just nodded your head.

“So where are all your bags? Is someone bringing them over later or?...” Maria asked, and you glanced at her slightly before pointing towards the trash bag. “Those are my clothes…” you said in a quiet voice, and it took everything in Natasha to not say how ridiculous that was.

“Okay, we'll just have to get you a proper bag then, huh?” Maria said kindly,  before standing up. “Would you like to see your room?” Maria then asked, and you nodded as you stood up too, going to grab the trash bag. “It's okay, I got it,” Natasha mentioned as she bent down, picking it up. “It's just this way,” Maria said as she led you through a hallway. 

She opened a door that carried an empty name plate, pushing it open and standing aside. 

“We didn't really know what you liked, but we tried our best. If you would like to change anything, maybe paint a wall or get some decorations you just let us know okay?” Natasha said, and you nodded as you put your school bag down by the bed, sitting on it. 

“All this is for me?” you asked as you looked around the room, taking in all the objects already in it. The desk and cabinets were empty, so were the walls, but the room was massive. 

Natasha nodded with a smile, walking into the room and turning to the door on the right. She opened it and stepped aside. “This is your bathroom, and right there is the closet,” she said as she pointed to another door next to the bathroom. 

“I have my own bathroom?” you questioned in disbelief, and Natasha nodded with a smile. 

“There is another closet right here,” she said as she opened another door, a small, undeep closet revealing itself. At the door hung a mat with little pockets, all filled with different snacks and treats. 

“We didn't really know what you liked, so we just bought a little bit of everything. These are all yours and you can eat them whenever you like. If anything ever runs out or if you would like some other snack or treats, just let us know and we can get it for you,” she explained, and you nodded with a small smile as you stared at all the treats and snacks.

You had never really gotten any treats or snacks, and you didn't exactly have your own money to buy it. 

Maria stayed at the door, wanting to give you your space while getting used to the new environment. “We'll just go and get started with dinner, so we'll leave you to settle in a little bit. Is there anything specific you'd like to eat? We can always order something, I'm never one to skip a good take-out meal,” Maria smiled, and Natasha walked to her side. 

You shrugged, not really knowing what to say. 

“We could order pizza? Or maybe sushi? Anything is okay,” Natasha pushed when she realized you weren't going to say anything yourself. 

“Pizza?” you asked quietly, and Natasha smiled and nodded. “Pizza it is. Do you want a specific one?” Natasha asked as she pulled out her phone, and you shook your head softly. 

“Just a margarita pizza please?” you asked, and Natasha nodded.

“We'll just be in the kitchen if you need us,” Maria told you, and she and Natasha left the room, closing the door behind them. 

You dumped your clothes on the bed, throwing the trash bag aside and going through them. Most of them were old and worn, but they still fit so no one ever decided you needed new clothes. After you folded them all neatly you walked to the closet, surprised at how big it was. Your clothes didn't even fill 10% of the closet, and you wondered if rich people really needed that many clothes.

Natasha and Maria seemed like really nice people, and even though you'd never admit it, you were excited you got to be with them. 

Of course you'd never trust some so fast, but until now they seemed nice and decent. The closet full of snacks definitely made you like them a little more, but you were still hesitant. You'd been in other families where they seemed nice at first, but the moment you'd make a mistake they'd beat you. You shuddered at the thoughts, grabbing a little bag of your favorite candy you found in the closet. 

You sat on the bed and took out your stuffed bunny, sitting against the headboard and holding the bunny close. 

You were scared and intimidated at this new place, but you were also happy you weren't at the other home anymore. Until now, this place seemed like a much better home to be.

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

After dinner, where you had mainly kept quiet and tried to avoid the questions they asked you, you went to your room and went straight into your bed. 

You didn't sleep the entire night. You didn't know these people, and you were afraid they'd come into your room and hurt you. That happened once, in a foster family you had about a year ago. The foster father had gone into your room and he had touched you, hurting you more than you ever thought was possible.

Since that foster home, you'd always stay awake the first night, wanting to be ready if one of the foster parents did come into your room.

Of course, tonight, nothing happened. Natasha and Maria had gone to bed shortly after you had, and the entire apartment was quiet. When the sun rose the next morning, you knew you had to ask either Natasha or Maria for some electronic device.

You didn't have a phone or computer, but you were homeschooled and followed an online program. With all the moving around and switching homes, it was always difficult to find a high school you could consistently go to. And so, you had gotten an online course and some data to login. However, you'd need an electronic device for that, and you didn't have that. 

When you walked into the kitchen around 8 am, Natasha and Maria were already awake. Maria was sitting at the kitchen counter, doing something on her laptop as she ate some toasts. Natasha was scrambling some eggs at the stove.

When Maria noticed you, she smiled and closed her laptop. "Good morning. How'd you sleep?” she asked and you shrugged. “Fine,” you said even though you knew damn well you hadn't slept at all. 

“How do you like your eggs?” Natasha then asked, turning to you shortly before focusing on the eggs in the pan again. 

“Scrambled is good,” you said as you sat down at the counter as well, preparing yourself to ask your question. After you took a deep breath and Natasha put some toast with eggs in front of you, you looked up, not really facing anyone but the counter top.

“So I was wondering…” you started carefully, and both Maria and Natasha looked at you as they waited for you to continue.

“I am doing online school, and I was just wondering if there is maybe an electronic device I could use? I don't have a phone or anything, but I do kinda need it…” you finished, your eyes darting around to Natasha, Maria and then back to the counter top again. 

“Of course. We can do some shopping today, to get you some essentials,” Maria said as she got up, opening the fridge and grabbing some orange juice.

Your eyes widened slightly. They couldn't possibly mean they'd buy you a phone, could they? 

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

After breakfast you, Maria and Natasha had gotten into their car. Their very expensive, very beautiful car. Natasha drove as Maria sat next to her. After about half an hour's drive, you arrived at a mall, and Maria opened the door for you. You thanked her and got out, following Natasha and Maria as they walked inside. 

Once inside, the first place they headed for was an apple store. You were shocked to say the least, really hoping they weren't going to spend so much money on you. 

When you entered the store, a worker came towards you three, asking if you needed help. Natasha said yes and asked him for the best phone they offered. 

The worker led you there, and Natasha thanked him as she picked it up, examining it. You stared at the phone wide-eyed, but more so at the price. That phone was higher than 1.500 euros, and you didn't believe they'd actually buy that for you.

“Well, it looks great, what color would you like?” Natasha smiled as she went to pick up a box from the shelf. 

You shook your head in shock, not believing they'd buy something like that for you. “I meant… like a device you have… that I could use… I didn't mean…” you stuttered out, and Natasha smiled as Maria laid a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

“Listen, sweetie, we just wanna get you everything you need. I promise you that we want to do this, okay? And you don't have to feel guilty that we're spending money on you, because we want to,” she told you.

Natasha looked at you too, smiling reassuringly. “We have plenty of money, and we can buy this for you easily. I promise you,” she explained.

“Okay…” you said quietly, still a bit unsure. 

Natasha smiled and walked towards the phone cases, Maria, with her hand still on your shoulder followed her. “You can pick out any case you like,” Natasha explained, and you nodded as you picked out a clear case. Natasha smiled as she took it from you, putting it in her basket. Why did she need a basket? 

After picking out the phone case, Natasha walked towards the ipads, looking over them and settling on the most expensive one, convinced that that would be the best. 

You were about to protest, but before you could even open your mouth, Natasha turned to you. “You can't possibly do online school on a phone now, can you?”

“I really don't want you to spend so much money on me…” you told her, and she smiled at you before picking up the same color ipad the phone was. Then she turned to you, putting her hand on your shoulder. 

“We want to get you whatever you need, and the money is not an issue for us, I promise you. Please let us get you what you need,” Natasha told you, and you simply nodded. 

Natasha smiled and made you pick out a case, putting a keyboard case in her basket as well, claiming it was so you could use the ipad for school. You insisted you didn't need it, but Natasha just said they'd buy it just in case then. 

After the most expensive trip to a store you had ever taken, resulting in an iphone, an ipad and airpods you really didn't expect them asking if you were okay to go to another store.

You said you were fine, and so you walked into another store where Natasha and Maria got you all kinds of things. All things for your bedroom, either to decorate or use. They had told you to pick out whatever you wanted, and after a lot of reassurance you had picked out several books, notebooks, some pens, markers and pencils, and some other stuff you liked.

They also let you pick out new covers for your bed, and after you told them you were fine with the cover that was on now, they told you that was one of their covers so you could pick some new ones out. 

The cover currently on your bed was a new one Natasha and Maria had bought especially for your arrival, but you didn't need to know that. They wanted you to pick something you liked, and soon enough you left the store with some pillows, stuffed animals and new covers.

Everytime you came out of a store, you three had to take a trip to the car to dump the stuff you bought before you could continue your shopping spree, but at the end of the day you really had fun.

You felt a little bad that they spent so much money on you, but with their constant reassurance that they wanted to do it and that they had plenty of money, you felt a little better about it.

After you had gotten back home, Natasha and Maria both helped you put all your new stuff away, and you think you thanked them at least a thousand times for everything they bought you. After everything was put away, you went to the kitchen, sitting on the stool as the apple store bag was still on the counter. 

Maria started dinner as Natasha sat down with you.

You opened the bag and took out the iphone first, opening it carefully and setting it up. Natasha helped unpack the case and handed it to you when you had set the iphone up. 

You couldn't help but smile at your very first phone. You weren't old or anything, but you were definitely at an age where it was odd you still didn't have a phone. When you unpacked the ipad it was the same. You unpacked it and set it up, while Natasha took the cases out of the packaging and handed them to you. 

After everything was taken care of, you thanked them once again, and they once again told you it was their absolute pleasure. 

Maybe this foster home would be different…

(if you’d like to be on a permanent tag list, so you’d be tagged on every fic I post, please let me know:))

[deramin2]

I'll say this for Daggerheart:

I didn't even make it through character creation before the physicality of the game inspired me to imagine the sort of Character Sheet Contraption that I would truly love playing it with. What would feel like a customizable instrument for playing the game?

I gathered simple materials and spent yesterday taping it all onto a cut of paper grocery bag. Got through several bouts of "This is so stupid; why am I doing this?" Actually finished a physical prototype, which I've never done so fast. Spent hours today gathering even more materials and reworking a particular system. I've done a lot of it through feel, using origami measurement folds for measuring and closing my eyes to feel how it would work during play as much as how it would look. There's sheet holders with various loading configurations, card holders, many abacus-like trackers, and hard surfaces all in a thing I can fold into a binder at the end of the game with very little to set back up or put away. Like a steamer trunk where all your things are tucked into neat little compartments. The mechanical button cockpit of my dreams for flying the game.

Something like this has been lurking in my mind taking root for the quarter century I've been playing TTRPGs, but everything's been so book-and-memory oriented that it never quite fully formed.

Things I've tried before to varying success:

Papers on table with a stack of books.

Lots of tabs in the books.

Storage clipboard.

Advanced Excel auto-leveling character sheets other people designed.

Advanced Excel auto-leveling character sheet I designed.

"Character Manual" where I copy over all relevant rules from every book into a single document and create combined leveling tables and detail every single thing I took when and how I calculated every number and put it in a binder. (This is what the Daggerheart cards effectively construct for you.)

Digital toolset platforms that conceptually do what I want but are confusing and buggy to use in practice.

Back to the Character Manual version 2.0.

Counting tokens.

Rotating dice as counting tokens.

[I've considered an abacus many times but never actually committed.]

Item and spell cards in the binder.

I've considered an abacus or abacus-like tracker many times but never actually committed. I accidentally taught myself how to count on my fingers similar to an abacus as a kid based on bastardized ASL. It is significantly harder to lose count when physically holding the numbers. Plus being able to count on my fingers up to 110 or 1023 depending on number system used is very handy. Counting to 10 rapidly outgrows its usefulness.

None of them have fully worked because the games themselves have not been designed for them to really work. I've been fighting the system every time. Mostly I've come out of it feeling bad about myself and that I was too incompetent at memorization, record keeping, and character building to play.

But Daggerheart is explicitly made to accommodate poor memories, minimal math, attention/comprehension gaps, rapidly getting assistance with the rules, arranging your own physically engaging space, and creating enough generalized scaffolding to fit the system into your ideas instead of trying to fit your ideas into the system.

Looking forward to trying it out in play with my other neurodivergent and disabled friends to see how it feels in play. But just being able to intuitively imagine and feel out the physical space of play is huge. Analogue interaction that would let me do things with my eyes closed accurately and not lose my place. Even if it ends up not being my preferred system, it's already taught me how I really want to be playing.

I really hope I'll keep pushing myself to complete this contraption and have a working, repeatable pattern. I would love to make + sell something like this, and/or make a pattern and instruction zine to sell.

[sentfromwolves]

Hey writing friends! (❁´◡`❁) Along with my new writeblr intro post, I also just wanted to make a more casual post too calling for more writeblr blogs to follow and interact with! If you write any of the following or are interested in the following and 18+ feel free to say hi! I'd also love to hear about all y'alls wips so I can find more writers to follow for 2024! (๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ

sci-fi and fantasy of any kind! cozy fantasy, epic fantasy, space opera, romantasy, you name it, i'm usually here for it! >:3

trans/nonbinary protagonists and big queer casts! it is my bread and butter (and what you'll always find me writing too)

Intricate worldbuilding in any genre! Especially ones with intricate politics, funky magical systems, or corrupt religious systems. I'm always down to yell about worldbuilding because I think it is Neat af

You just like to shout about ocs!! I'm so here for it, and I love making more connections here with people who obsess with their ocs the way I do. >:3 come yell at me about them anytime hehe

OT3S!! OT3S!! Please. Thank you.

2nd person POV & Epistolary Narratives or funky narrative experiments. This is hands down my favorite povs to read. I'm obsessed with them. Please come be obsessed about them with me.

Big found families! YES yep yes it's me I'm that bitch I love this stuff it's honestly my bread and butter ESPECIALLY IF IT IS DYSFUNCTIONAL AS HELL (bonus points if they try to murder each other at some point)

Non-European fantasies/celestial fantasies/space fantasies/underground fantasies. Yeah I know I put fantasy above, but celestial fantasies and consumed world concepts are something I'm obsessed with and I want more people to be obsessed with

Queer contemporary fiction. I'm usually in the sff boat but sometimes I write contemporary too, and I'd love to connect with more writers who write both.

The list could go on forever and ever, it's not exhaustive at all! Honestly if you're just interested in new writers to yell with, feel free to hit me up! I'm also looking to build a 2024 tag game list for writer games, so if you'd like to be added, let me know! I love spreading fun writing games around whenever I can. >:3 💝

[hulknussen]

nico hülkenberg/kevin magnussen fic collection

because the ao3 tag dedicated to nico and kevin is very overrun by fic where they only feature as a background pairing, if at all, I have taken it upon myself to create a collection that aims to collect every fic tagged as them that also centres on them (and also isn't a oneshot/drabble collection).

the result was a sum of a little over 200 works when I started it, though it's still growing and I'll keep updating it. you can find it here. I'm sharing it both to hopefully reach people who are struggling finding fic for them and to replace the rec list I created six+ months ago. if you're looking for my personal favorites, you can simply filter the collection via the Recs only feature

I've set up a tagging & filtering system for it, which is further explained below. it's primarily set up after my personal preferences and uses, but I figure others can still get use out of it.

as I wanted the collection to serve archiving purposes, too, I've applied three groups of tags to the bookmarks. you can filter these in/out in the "bookmarker's tags to include/exclude" field:

-> a tag for the year the fic was written in. this is helpful for trying to figure out trends: for example, you can tell at first glance that there have already been more works published for them in 2025 (32 and counting) than the entirety of 2023 (20) - neat!

-> a tag for the setting. I don't always want to read every setting, and not every author uses the same tags to express the same concept, making filtering harder. for this collection, I have used the following tags:

Alternate Universe

Omegaverse

Other Motorsport

Canon Divergent

20xx Formula 1 Season

Genderbending

some works are tagged as multiple, and if I haven't read the fic myself I tagged to the best of my ability.

-> a tag for the "status" - this one is completely for myself so that I can filter out works I have already read or that I wrote in the first place. but they're there for you to peruse too if you want.

in some cases I found that the body of the work did not accurately depict the contents of the work - most often, a fic rated below explicit despite containing explicit content. in those few cases, I have added a tag ("Explicit Sexual Content") to make anyone aware before going into the fic.

apart from the tagging I ran a browser extension to automatically input key information into the bookmark notes in the form of a drop down menu. this is helpful if any fic ever gets deleted because you're still able to tell which fic it was. it looks like this when collapsed:

and like this when opened:

not every fic in this bookmark collection has them as the endgame or only pairing. there were some cases were they were broken up by the end of the fic, or shared about equal time with another pairing. in those cases I have added a drop down menu where I answer these question, so that those who want can avoid spoilers, and those who prefer reading fic where they are the endgame pairing can check before going in.

with every part that makes up a bookmark explained, here's how it all looks put together:

as a final note, the downside of running this all in bookmarks means the "Sort By" menu is severely limited. it only allows you to sort by "Date Bookmarked" or "Date Updated", and none of the usual Kudos/Hits/Comments/Wordcount/etc. ao3's hidden search operators also don't seem to work, but if anyone finds a work around for this please let me know

[koscheys-skull]

Bullying, Mean, and Honest Truths About Spirituality

Under the cut is an honest and crude description based off of my own bias and opinion of new people joining Spiritual practises, the occult, or seeking magic and mysticism.

So you want to start practising the Occult.

You are drawn to the idea of Mysticism, Magic, the Occult, and “Witchcraft”. Let me say that again, but louder.

You.

Are Drawn.

To the IDEA Of Mysticism, Magic, the Occult and “Witchcraft.

A lot of people like the idea of pets.

Pets are fun! You get a cat or a dog and they hang around and you imagine yourself going for long walks or hikes with a canine companion, or sitting at home and enjoying the company of a furry feline. Maybe it isn’t a dog or a cat or a common household pet. Maybe you want a bird! They are fun, right?

You see people on the internet through videos on whatever platform you’re wasting your hours on. You fantasize about what you would do or have. You spend hours entertaining this fantasy while looking at everyone else’s lives and situations.

You are drawn to the idea of something.

And then you ignore the important detail that these things require work, time, and dedication.

The Occult is just like people and pets.

There’s more people that i know that should not have pets than people that I know are responsible pet owners.

This, for me, is the same with the occult. Only, if you choose to neglect the Occult practise you claim to be drawn to, there isn’t really a penalty like a vet bill or a dead creature that you were supposed to be responsible for, for your negligence.

“Oh, I’ll just pick a “class” like an RPG and I’ll roll with it.”

Will you though? Will you dedicate the time and energy to do research on the subject matter you claim to be interested in? And not only will you give it the time and energy to just begin with the research, but will you also put in the dedication to put it into practice?

Be realistic with yourself. What are you actually going to do? Are you capable of maintaining routines and managing yourself and keeping up with the demands of the occult? Or are you just whimsically interested in it because it sounds “cool” and you had some friends in school that played with some tarot cards so now you think you’re a witch.

Let’s pretend you do actually have the self control and discipline to dedicate yourself to a spiritual path and practise. Let’s pretend you have that kind of integrity (but let’s be honest, you and I both know that’s a load of wash.)

Most likely, you’re coming from an Abrahamic Background, aren’t you? In the least, you’ve spent a lot of your life surrounded by vaguely misshapen ideas of “some sort of binary system where there’s good and bad spirits” or something or another and demons might be a thing? You don’t really know. But you took a class once that talked about Greek and Roman gods or maybe the Norse and Celtic gods, so you know there’s Gods out there! So that’s a START! Let’s go!!!!!!!!

You can just pick a god and run with it, right? Like, who cares? Just pick what makes you go “Yeah that’s neat and cool. I’ll take this out for a spin.” and pretend that you’re somehow deeply connected to this being. You read something or another about this deity or this pantheon at some point or another (or something like that). Just google search and read the Wikipedia page and waste a few more hours on it till you’re a Reddixpert on it! You have everything you need and a few days later you throw down a candle and incense and you’re blown away by feeling a strong connection to this god! HOLY COW! It’s working?! Let’s face it, you’ve not been connected to anything at all in your self obsessed life for a long time. So you think it’s “Special” when you get an answer. It’s not.

Sorry, sugar. You’re not special. You’re not a little special little sugar plum fairy that is adored by the gods. Because, believe it or not, you have to build relationships. But not just that, you’ve just pulled a “White Person” move. Most likely, you didn’t consult with or have any discussions with practitioners of the ethnicity and belief system you are interested in. Nor did you research the culture and how the religious and spiritual beliefs of those people manifest. I would suggest you learned some or a little bit or even all of the language of the people that the religion belonged to, but let’s be honest again with one another, you don’t have that in you for sure. You chose to take a God from a Pantheon and chose to take it entirely out of context. Congratulations! You pulled a White Colonialism Move so good that you took it to a spiritual level!

What? You thought you could just pick whoever from wherever and just rip them out of their culture, place, language, and people and water it down till it suited you? What is this, Wicca?

It might be! If this sounds like your idea of fun, check out Wicca. They’re full of it. You have gods from across all seas (Except for some reason the Pacific? Not sure if it’s a weird Asian racism problem or if they’re just focusing on everything the British Empire stole from) being Shipped together like smutty fanfiction. It’s insane. Anubis and the Morrigan are having babies every year, I guess, and their child, who’s always a Son, is the next Cernunnos who is also Pan but also Hades and also is Thor every third life (or something, I don’t know I’m not Wiccan).

What, you didn’t think that you actually had to respect a culture and the people that a religion belongs to? What are you, a pilfering bandit? There’s a right way and a wrong way to do these things. But what’s important is that you have to be honest.

Yeah that’s a big word. “Honesty”.

How honest are you with yourself? How true are you to what you think you can achieve and accomplish? Are you really going to read all of those books and write notes and document things? Are you really going to make a whole entire lifestyle change that surrounds and accommodates the culture, belief systems, and structures of a culture’s religion and beliefs? Are you? Are you really? If you make the change, are you going to commit to the change? Or, in a few weeks or months are you going to revert right back to the way you’ve always lived your life?

Again. This is the difference between enjoying the idea of something versus actually doing the work. And that is what the occult is. It is work.

Work. Work. Work. Work. Work. It is putting you on the grindstone and making you both rethink, reshape, and re-evaluate your entire being. It is going to make you uncomfortable. It is going to challenge you. It is meant to help you grow and be better. And growth doesn’t happen when you’re being spoon fed off of a lace spoon. Your idea of what things are is going to be challenged.

That’s another word that has a tendency to throw people out of the Occult. Challenge.

If you’re new to the Occult, you’re going to have to learn a critical skill that, in my opinion, very few possess.

Everyone wants to be “right”. It sucks when you’re wrong. How well do you handle it when someone corrects you. Let’s be honest. It’s awkward. It’s embarrassing. Everyone wants to be right. YOUR PRIDE IS SENSITIVE DAMNIT!

You’re a sensitive snowflake and you need to be swaddled in soft cashmere and reassured that you’re perfect because of course you are, sugar-pie.

But we have to touch some grass and live in reality. Yeah, I know the occult feels like you’re indulging a fantasy, but it’s not. Spiritual practises and spiritual beliefs are real things that have real people of many different cultures and languages and walks of life. And these practises are not just little badges and stickers you can throw on a water bottle and make yourself feel like a “Validated Witchy Bitch, Baby! ‘Cause we’re Feminist and COOL.”

(And by the way, you are not “The Daughters of the Witches you Couldn’t Burn”. Get fucked, you uneducated slut.)

You are going to have to approach everything, and yes I mean everything, with the air of caution in your heart and mind that says “Maybe I do not know what I am talking about.”

This is almost impossible for some (haha just kidding it’s pretty much everyone. I’m guilty of failing at this sometimes myself), to approach everything that someone says with an air of “Maybe this person knows more than me.”

When you engage with other people and you give them the space to speak about a subject that they are educated in, always be open. You must be so open that you automatically assume that you know nothing about the subject that someone is going to educate you on. Assume you have no education at all. And then listen. Yeah, I said it. You have to listen.

Listening??? To someone else??? Telling you what’s what???? Are you kidding me? What is this, a Learning Experience?

Yes, Yes it is you poor summer child. It is a learning experience. And if you can’t be bothered to learn and to try and learn then you’re not going to make it.

And if you can’t be bothered to listen, to read, to do work, to give effort, and to re-evaluate yourself constantly, you are not going to make it.

So make the choice.

Commit. Or walk away.

No one is going to think poorly of you for admitting that you’re not cut out for this.

But everyone. Everyone you interact with that is a real practitioner with a real lifestyle that encompasses their spiritual practise (because, surprise! The spiritual and the Mundane are intertwined in a very close and intimate way for practitioners) will be able to sniff you out from a mile away and know that you’re not worth your own salt.

It’s okay to be “casual” in some circumstances. It’s okay to be “subtle” or to follow paths that are more accommodating to your needs. That’s fine. Don’t get me wrong. This is a high energy and very taxing experience. There are paths that are accommodating to your needs and your degree or spoons, your laziness, or your life conditions. (I’m inclusive, dammit. Some people are disabled. Some are just fucking lazy. Some are kids with a fantasy fetish. I don’t know. I don’t care. Figure out which you are and make choices like an adult).

But don’t go picking a path or integrate yourself to a spiritual lifestyle that has high demands or you cannot adhere to. Not only is it disrespectful to the culture, the people, and the beings involved. But it’s not good for yourself, either. You will not benefit from the experience. You won’t make it anywhere and you’ll be left constantly feeling like a failure because you cannot accommodate the demands of a lifestyle and belief system that has expectations that are outside of your parameters to accommodate.

But back to YOU! Because let’s be honest, this is mostly about YOU. Everything is mostly about you and yourself. That’s just how a massive amount of people think. Which isn’t wrong, don’t get me wrong. But you have to be Self Aware. (I know most of you are not self aware. Get over it). When you set yourself up with all these fantastical expectations and then nothing progressive and fantastic happens with your practise, it is mostly because you failed to follow through with your own work. Something happened along the way where you struggled for some reason or another and you didn’t have the discipline and the integrity to keep up with something. And that feeling sucks. You feel “Let Down” by the Occult. But you let yourself down. In some way shape or form, you let yourself down. Because everything is about you, this means you have to be responsible for YOU. Yeah. I said it. You have to be responsible for yourself. No one’s wiping your Spiritual Ass for you. You have to do your own work and wipe your own spiritual butthole, and that also means cleaning up your own spiritual messes and doing the spiritual work and dedicating the time and dedicating the energy and making the changes to your life you need to make and then committing to them. It’s all Change, baby! And if you can’t handle change, then you can’t handle commitment to the occult.

And that’s okay! If you can’t handle some things, then DON’T FUCKING DO THEM?????

Maybe step away from that. And yeah, it’s okay to “try” some things to a degree. But please. For the love of fuck, approach them with the respect, dignity, and understanding that they deserve. Always approach a practise (And 99% of all practises have roots in SOME sort of ethnic culture!) with the respect it deserves. Do your best to adhere to those cultures and their beliefs and be as strict as you can while accommodating those traditions. They’re called “Traditions” for a reason. Treat them like they are sacred because they are. I shouldn’t have to explain to people that “Traditions of Spiritual Cultures are Sacred”, yet this post is being made because, quite clearly, this is a common issue.

I’m not “Gatekeeping” anything by saying this. I’m telling you to explore as much as you can. But when you do so, don’t explore different spiritual practises and traditions like the tourists that make the locals want to commit a homicide. Which is how so many people getting into the occult treat Traditions they are exploring.

You want to be a good and a welcome guest. You can’t just trample whatever you feel like because you’re too self centred with your selfie stick in Greece to be aware that you’re disrupting people trying to live their daily lives. The locals should want you. Try to connect to the people and their language and culture. Don’t just stand in their ways and think their society should accommodate you because you’re visiting.

It is okay if something turns out that it isn’t for you. Be honest about it. Be respectful about it. Thank the people and the culture and those gods for their time for being Gracious Enough to Host you. And then move on. A little respect goes a long, long way.

The Occult and Spiritual practises opens the way for you to re-think everything that you believe and to apply new ideas, beliefs and principles to yourself to help you grow and explore yourself and your connection to people and places with deeper understanding.

Be honest.

Be open.

You have to grow. And if you are interested in the Occult, Spirituality and Mysticism, get ready because there’s going to be so many growing pains.

And if you can’t handle that,

Then why are you here?

[glowettee]

✧ the foundation for your coquette tumblr presence: the ultimate guide by mindy (1/15)✧

hello darlings~ mindyyy here

i see so many amazing little blogs on tumblr, so many that inspire me and motivate me to post more here on tumblr, so i decided to make a little series helping you to create the most ethereal corner of tumblr you've ever dreamed of for yourself. i'm going to guide you through every delicate step of establishing your presence, ensuring your blog becomes a soft haven that attracts kindred spirits!!!

important note:

all the tips, advice and steps i give you in this series are the exactly what i use for my blog, this is what helped grow my blog to 1.1k followers, while befriending some of the most amazing people i've met, tumblr is an important place for me, and i've been using it for years, i've helped multiple other people grow their own tumblr blog, and i've use these exact steps. this series is superrr important to me and very well-thought out and planned, please don't steal my content ideas, or plagiarize my content or series ideas, they are super time-consuming to create and i put all my hard work into it. this series is to help you all create and build a sustainable coquette blog. keep in mind these tips i give in the series can be used for any type of tumblr blog, it doesn't just have to be coquette, however everything i say in this series is more tailored to creating a coquette blog, so just make sure to know if you aren't creating a coquette blog, that's totally fine and you can still use these effective tips! <3

let me begin with the essential elements that will form the foundation of your digital sanctuary:

choosing your perfect username

your username is like a whispered introduction, so choose carefully. consider these elements:

incorporate soft, romantic words (pearl, rose, moth, sage)

avoid numbers unless they're meaningful dates

keep it easily typeable and memorable

check availability across platforms

consider future branding possibilities

make it very short to keep it neat

pro tip: before settling on a name, write it in different fonts and styles to ensure it maintains its beauty in various forms.

example:

crafting your blog description

your description should feel like an embrace to whoever reads it. (this is both for the pinned post of your profile/blog and the description of your blog) include:

a brief, poetic introduction

your main content themes

posting schedule if you have one

any specific content warnings

languages you speak

your timezone for mutuals

special interests using soft bullets (✧)

developing your signature aesthetic

this is where the magic truly happens. your aesthetic should flow through every element:

color palette selection:

choose 3 primary colors and 2 accent colors

maintain consistent hex codes

save your palette for easy reference

consider seasonal variations

test colors against white and black backgrounds

visual elements to consider:

custom cursor designs

carefully selected fonts (maximum of 2-3)

consistent border styles

signature dividers and bullets

background patterns or textures

sidebar images and icons

essential technical setup

while maintaining our dreamy aesthetic, we mustn't forget the practical:

enable infinite scroll

set up custom links

organize your tags systematically

create navigation buttons

establish post width preferences

configure ask box settings

set up queue parameters

your blog is another part of you. every element should work in harmony to create an atmosphere that feels both intentional and effortlessly beautiful.

before you go:

✧ save your color codes in a pretty document ✧ create a moodboard for visual reference ✧ test your layout on different devices ✧ prepare a tag system ✧ gather inspiration images

with love, mindy xo

if you don't already know, i have my own newsletter here: GlowetteeMindy

[clockwayswrites]

We Will Mend

*whistles innocently*

Part... 1?

Puck = Danny

CW: Under negotiated kink, mild choking

“What?” Jason asked, the question harsh through the modulation of the helmet.

Puck just tilted his head a little. The white hair was finally long enough to move slightly with the motion.

“I’m not a fucking piece of art, stop staring.”

Puck snorted and stepped in enough to close and lock the door. “You’re a masterpiece, Boss, don’t let them say otherwise.”

“Did you hit your head again?” Jason asked. He knew it was unkind to point out the scar that still showed fresh and pink through the covering of white hair, but he wasn’t feeling kind right then.

“Didn’t hit it the first time,” Puck said, apparently undeterred by Jason’s harsh tone.

He crossed the room, silent in his steps even though the floor was designed to make noise. Jason would have to do something better. For the moment though, he let Puck work to pull him and the heavy oak chair back from his desk.

Then he watched Puck make neat piles of the mess of papers and files and set them aside crossing each other off to the side. Puck turned and hopped up onto the desk, sitting where Jason’s pile of infuriating work had been. He had to get the rights for the new building transferred over properly and then get—

“Fuck me.”

Jason’s planning screeched to a halt like one of the trams derailing dramatically off an elevated T-line— fiery explosion of the cars below and all.

“What?”

“Fuck me,” Puck repeated like the request wasn’t completely insane. “You’re stressed, but you’re so stressed that you won’t fight someone because you’re afraid of going too far. So fuck me. Get it out of your system. I can take the bruises.”

“You can take the bruises,” Jason repeated incredulously.

“Yes. And I think you need to give them,” Puck said. “It’s why you don’t ever go to a prostitute, you’re worried about ruining your good reputation with them. You can’t have anyone at home either, there’s no way they would put up with the hours you work. But I’m already here and willing. You take care of me so let me take care of you.”

Jason was quite for a long moment, not sure of what to say. The best he could come up with is, “You’re insane.”

“Yeah, probably. It comes with the territory, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know what I’m offering,” Puck said with a little shrug. He braced his hands and leaned back, making his body one long line.

There was no denying that Puck was attractive. He was a slight thing, sure, but it was all muscles and scars. He didn’t try to hide the scars away either. His arms and half his sides were bare in the muscle tee that Puck wore. Scars of all sorts crossed his skin, telling a story that Jason tried not to read.

In one fluid motion, Jason shot up from his chair and leaned forward, bracing his hands on either side of Puck’s thighs. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”

Puck met the dark lenses of the helmet without flinching. “I’m asking you to fuck me already. Mark me up. Make a mess of me. Use me. Just get the fuck on—”

The words cut off sharply as Jason wrapped a hand around Puck’s throat and squeezed just enough for it to be uncomfortable. Jason could feel Puck swallow, but didn’t have too much time to think on it with how Puck strained against the hand so that he could wrap his leg’s around Jason’s waist and pull.

“There,” Puck whispered throat bobbing against Jason’s fingers, “isn’t that better? Doesn’t it feel good to let loose?”

The worst of it was that it did feel better— that Puck was right. Something dangerous and hungry stirred low in Jason’s gut as he watched Puck arched like that under his hand.

“I can take the bruises.”

Jason hoped Puck was right.