#tech July 18

[newforever]

https://ift.tt/9tdXONI Unity Nøva // Null

[augustjoy]

You’re…intimidating.

Based on the following ask: For Hotch x reader, could I please request charming witty reader who Hotch has an obvioussss crush on and he's trying to flirt but he's out of practice and she's pretty extroverted, confident so she just doesn't register he's interested and he's getting grief from the team for being all puppy dog eyes at her? Pref non-BAU reader but maybe she works in a different FBI dept or she's a lawyer/consultant they work with often and Hotch is always the first to suggest working with her so he's not being subtle in wanting to spend time with her lol. Feel free to adapt!! Thanks!! ❤️Okay pookie!!! I’ve been thinking about this one and it might end up pretty self-indulgent and for that I am sorry – girlie works for cybercrimes (but transfers to the BAU – sorry it felt right) and she’s the best of the best like Penelope worships her…she’s a little alternative so Hotch admires her from afar because she’s not his usual type just PURE FLUFF

Aaron Hotchner x FBI! Fem Reader

Fluff

Word count: 2674

Not edited - please be kind. Requests are open and feedback is welcome if it's constructive!

Warnings: My blog is 18+, minors DNI, age gap (reader is late 20’s, Aaron is 45), some explicit language, not an OC but reader is described to have some tattoos and piercings (nothing specific though), reader works for cybercrimes and is SUPER tech savvy, idiots in love, Hotch pining hard, tooth rotting fluff, canon typical violence, mentions of hacking and breaking laws, reader is an extroverted introvert, Reader is called “Agent Z” or “Z” because she is a gen z, let me know if I missed any

I do not consent to having my work translated or reposted to any other site. That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story.

“Hotchner, this is the third time this month you’ve requested her. I’m beginning to think we should be offering her a spot in the BAU.” Director Cruz teased.

“If she’d be willing, I wouldn’t be opposed to the idea.” Hotch shrugged.

“I’ll put in the consultation request and maybe I’ll bring up the idea of a transfer to her.”

Hotch stood and returned to the sixth floor, promptly running into Penelope, as she was making her way back to the Batcave.

“So, I heard I might be getting some assistance on our next case! You know if you keep inviting Agent Z to join us, I’m going to get used to having her around.”

“Would that be so bad?” Hotch asked.

“No, it definitely wouldn’t…unless she stops coming around.” Penelope retorted.

The look on Hotch’s face gave him away, there was a brief flash of disappointment at the suggestion of you not coming around anymore. He couldn’t bear the thought…which made him even more nervous than you did. Speaking of…

“Hey Hotch!” You called effectively startling him.

“Hello! I uh – I wasn’t expecting you so soon.”

“Ah well, Cruz emailed the request over and I got the notification, so I figured there was no time to waste.” You shrugged.

“Well, we might as well debrief the team then.” Aaron offered, gesturing toward the conference room.

--

Here’s the deal, Aaron had feelings for you, you had captivated him the first time he saw you. It was a Tuesday in July, the weather had been unforgiving…hot and humid, not ideal for the business attire of FBI agents.

As he made his way into the building, he’d taken note of how nearly everyone had their suit jackets or blazers slung over their arms, their sleeves rolled up as they hurried into the air-conditioned building.

But then there was you. You were wearing these chunky black loafers and black trousers, your top had been a simple black tank, it was hugging your skin in a way that made Aaron’s mouth go dry. You had a checkered cardigan tossed over your forearm that you had clearly removed. It allowed Aaron a view of the tattoos that adorned your arms.

He couldn’t explain the pull he felt…you had been so different from any woman he’d ever had any interest in before, but maybe that’s why things never worked out with them. Maybe the others were too stiff, too proper. Maybe he needed a little chaos in his life.

--

During the debriefing, Aaron had made sure you were sat next to him. He let Penelope present the case as usual and allowed time for theories. While Derek and Emily were talking back and forth about the possible age and gender of the unsub, Aaron’s eyes were trained on you. He could see your mind running a mile a minute.

“What is it?” Aaron asked, tapping your arm gently.

“Oh, no. I was just thinking. There’s something about the photo’s that were left at the crime scene…it feels familiar.” You shrugged.

“Have you seen another case like this?”

“I think so…” You pulled open your laptop and began searching through old case files and evidence you’d logged over the years. “Here! Hotch, look at this!”

Aaron leaned over, leaving hardly any space between the two of you. His gaze shifted from your profile to your computer screen, taking in the images before him. On your screen were photos that were nearly identical to those in the file the team had just reviewed.

It seemed as though this unsub took photos to document their work. Leaving some behind at the crime scenes, taunting law enforcement.

“We didn’t have very many leads back when this came across my desk, but I have new programs I can use to run these photos through now and with Penelope’s help, I think we could finally get this guy.” You explained.

“Alright, why don’t you travel with us so you can access the physicals of the photos.” Aaron suggested.

“Okay!”

“Alright then, wheels up in thirty.” Aaron commanded.

--

“Hey Agent Z! You joining us again?” Derek nudged you gently.

“Not this time, I was just asked to come and consult on a case.” You replied.

 “Oh, I see. Bossman calling in his favorite once again.”

“Stop! It’s not like that Derek.”

“Girl…you and I both know that it is.” Derek laughed and walked off.

You made your way to Aaron’s office, knocking on the door. When he calls out for you to enter, you go straight for the chair in front of his desk, plopping into it with a huff.

“You alright?” Aaron asks, concern lacing his tone. “We could do this later if you’re not up for it.”

“No! I’m happy to help! I’ve just got a decision to make, and I don’t know what to do.” You sighed. “Let’s talk about this case!”

Aaron and you went through the case that had been sent in from the NYPD. You were confused as to why he’d called you in to consult, the case had seemed pretty cut and dry…something Aaron would typically delegate to Derek or Dave. The tech aspect to this case was so minute, it was common sense…but you didn’t want to call him out on it.

--

“Thanks again for your help, hopefully the NYPD can close that case pretty quickly now.” Aaron walked you over toward the elevators.

“Any time. I like working with you and the BAU.” You smiled cheerfully.

“So um, what was that decision you have to make?” He inquired.

“Oh, uh…well, Cruz asked me if I wanted to transfer from Cybercrimes over to the BAU actually.”

“That’s great! I mean – I uh. Do you think you’ll do it?”

“I’m thinking about it for sure! It’s just, I’ve been with Cybercrimes for so long, I’d feel bad leaving them…ya know?”

“Yeah, I know what you mean.”

You said your goodbyes and you headed back to your office on the eighth floor. Aaron stood there for a bit, looking after you as you made your exit. He stood there a beat longer before turning and heading back to his office. Only he didn’t get that far. Upon walking through the glass doors, he was met with the whole team standing there waiting for him.

“You’re down bad Hotch.” Emily said.

“Yeah, that was almost painful to watch.” JJ agreed.

“I don’t know what you’re referring to.” Hotch shook his head and made his way back to his office.

--

Agreeing with the director to have you transferred was, quite possibly, the dumbest decision that Aaron could have ever made. He already struggled just being near you when you’d come and assist, but the thought of having you around all the time…what was he meant to do?

Subject: Agent Transfer – Effective immediately Good afternoon, This email is being sent to inform both the CCU and BAU of the immediate transfer of Agent Z. In discussing this transfer, she assured me that should the CCU need her assistance in a case, she’d happily help. She does, however, know that the agents on the team are more than capable of handling things. As for the BAU, given her expertise and background, she will travel with you as needed. I just want to remind you that Agent Z has a background in hacking, computer forensics, criminal justice, psychology, behavior analysis, amongst others. Utilize her skills – I believe she will make an incredible contribution to the BAU. Hotchner – her file was delivered to your office this morning. Also, she needs firearms training, please ensure she completes this before travelling with the team. Let me know if you have any questions. Mateo Cruz - Section Chief of the Behavioral Analysis Unit

Aaron read the email four times. You would be starting with the team today…he needs to get you scheduled for your firearms training and qualification exam. He figured he could do that while you get settled in the office adjacent to Penelope’s.

--

“Hey Hotch.” Your fingers rapped against the doorframe.

“Hi-Hello. Can I uh, show you to your office?” He asked.

“Penelope already beat you to it.” You teased. “But if you want to help me bring the last of my boxes down, that would be awesome.”

“Oh, I um-I…can-”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to! You’re a busy man, and I can ask Spence or Derek!”

“No, I’d love to help.” Aaron recovered.

“Okay.” You smiled.

Aaron led the two of you over to the elevator, allowing you to enter first, then following suit and pressing the button for the eighth floor. It slowly lifted before signaling your arrival on the CCU floor.

You guided Aaron to your old office where the last two boxes remained. There was an IT guy loading your monitors onto a cart, getting ready to move them for you. You looked around at the now empty space…it felt empty now, like it no longer belonged to you, and you supposed it didn’t anymore. Aaron couldn’t help but notice the slight sadness that took over your features.

“Are you alright?” He asked.

“Oh, yeah, I’m okay. It’s just odd, having had this office for the last four years, and now it’s empty…it’s not mine anymore.” Your gaze shifted downward. “It feels like the end of a chapter. While the feeling isn’t bad, because I’m really excited to be joining the BAU, it just feels kind of sad.”

“I know what you mean. I felt that same way when I left the law firm I worked at.” Aaron looked over at you.

You met his gaze, and he offered a small smile. You returned it, feeling this sense of comfort. He’d always brought up that feeling in you though. It was like this glowing warmth that spread its way through your entire being…but that flame only burned in you when he was around.

--

“And hold it just like that, good!” Aaron praised.

You fired three consecutive shots at the target, forming a neat cluster in the outlines chest. Pride bloomed in Aaron’s chest, and you squealed with excitement, throwing your arms around him!

“Thank you so much for helping me! There was no way I was going to pass this exam without you!”

“I’m not sure how you’ve been with the bureau this long and not had to get your firearm qualification.” Aaron shook his head with a laugh.

“Hey! I have been confined to the eighth floor for the last five-ish years, I haven’t needed to carry one.”

Aaron took note of the freckles that dusted your nose, and the way the light reflected in your eyes. He thought for a moment about how close you were, and how easy it would be to just lean in the last few inches and capture your lips in a kiss. But he had to shake the thought away.

--

“I PASSED!” You shouted, running your way through the BAU bullpen.

“Good lord, what are you yelling about?” Dave asked, coming out of his office.

“I PASSED! I PASSED!” You waved your firearms certificate in the air, making your way over to Aaron’s office.

He exited his office to see what the commotion was all about, seeing you shaking your hand, waving a piece of paper around like a mad woman. He was mesmerized by you. You were 100% yourself and he admired you for it, you weren’t worried about how others perceived you. You only worried about your own opinion; you wanted to be the best version of yourself always.

“HOTCHHH, I PASSED!” You ran over to him and jumped into his arms, wrapping your own around his neck.

Aaron held you tight, lifting you off the ground for just a moment before noticing the look on Dave’s face. He placed you down and quietly congratulated you. He couldn’t help but feel embarrassed at getting caught by Dave. He knew that he had done nothing wrong…but he also knew that Dave could read him better than anyone else.

--

“Okay, when are you going to ask that girl out?” Dave huffed, sitting in the chair across from Aaron.

“Dave.” Aaron scolded. “It’s inappropriate.”

“Aaron…you deserve it. Happiness I mean. So, are you going to let it pass you by or are you going to seize the moment?”

“Sir, I don’t mean to interrupt, but we have a case.” Penelope informed. “It’s a child abduction.”

“Let everyone know we’re leaving now – we will brief on the plane.” Aaron commanded.

“Is Z going with you?” Penelope asked.

“Yes!” Dave answered for Aaron.

--

Aaron always sat next to you on the plane. It had been purely accidental, you’d sat in his usual seat and though Aaron wouldn’t say anything, Spencer did. So, you moved over into the adjacent window seat and Aaron slid in next to you. Since then, you’d always sat there.

Like now for example, the BAU was headed home after a two-week long case. The unsub had been way too good at covering his tracks, he’d had the entire team stumped. Thankfully you’d found his slipup in a dark web chatroom. He’d posted video of him torturing his latest victim in a chatroom used by very sick people. It was flagged once you’d turned on notifications for keywords and certain video content. After receiving the notification, Penelope and you were able to track an IP address and narrow down the location.

It had been exhausting honestly, running around, back and forth, interviewing people, going through evidence, just going until you found this guy…and now that was finally catching up to you. Your head had been bobbing off to the side as you fought the throws of sleep. As you began dozing off once more, Aaron reached over and led your head to rest on his shoulder. You finally settled and snuggled a bit further into his side, and for once he leaned back and let himself rest on the flight home.

Emily pointed JJ and Derek’s attention over to the two of you and then giggled. Derek quickly snapped a picture and sent it in their group chat. Penelope was quick to reply with the happy tears emojis and saying “finally”.

--

Things had shifted slightly after that. And while the team still teased Aaron about his very obvious crush on you, he finally allowed himself to be more confident in his interactions with you. He realized that Dave was right…maybe he did deserve happiness.

He’d invited you to get lunch with him a few times during work and he’d brought you coffee. He thought he was making his affection for you more obvious…but you still didn’t budge. He was beginning to worry that you didn't feel the same.

But it all came to a head when he decided he needed to be direct. Not on his own…Emily and JJ had to confront him and then convince him that you did like him, you just didn’t think he liked you.

--

You walked into the elevator, just about to click the button to the sixth floor when an arm reached in to stop the door from closing.

“Oh! Good morning Hotch.” You greeted. “Sorry, if I had seen you coming I’d have held the door.”

“No worries.” He forgave. “Do you um – do you have any plans tonight?”

“No, I was thinking of ordering a pizza and watching an episode of The Great British Bake Off. What about you?”

You’re reply had been so innocent and sweet. Just a simple response to his question, not reading into what he was truly asking you.

“Sweetheart, though your plans sound wonderful…will you go to dinner with me tonight?” He asked.

Your jaw dropped, only for a moment as you worked to regain your composure. Had you really been that blind? The girls had told you time and time again that he was interested, and you’d brushed it off, not wanting to get your hopes up…but here he is now, asking you out.

“I would love to.” You smiled.

Taglist: @bernelflo@pastelpinkflowerlife@just-moondust

[ask-everything]

Date everything~~ or- ask..?

Have YOU ever wanted a partner? Romantic or platonic? To love or hate someone? Well, do we have the product for YOU!

With this top of the line tech we call the Dateviators™ you can finally do that! All you have to do is put them on and talk to the closest object!

We are not liable for any heartbreak, injury, or perceiving your household objects as alive.

(This is an ask blog for the game Date Everything! Please be respectful and make sure to read what characters are available)

(No NSFW asks. Innuendos are okay, but that is where we draw the line.)

Characters (as of July 17, 2025):

Amir / Mirror Played By @undyworld

Abel / Table Played By @cleanesthands

Airyn / Air Played By @m1-zisva

Arma / Fire Alarm Played By @beezabub

Artt / Art Played by @salmonandsoup

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Bathsheba / Bathtub Played By @scariffs

Beau / Box Played By @rainelikescats

Ben-Hwa / 'Mysterious Object' Played By @meltylov3 (MDNI)

Betty / Bed Played By @accidentalmacandcheese

Beverly / Beverage Cart Played By @beezabub

Bobby Pin / Bobby-Pin Played By @lostinablanket

Bodhi Windbreaker / Time Capsule / 80s Nostalgia Played By @zagzagelshabitation

Cabrizzio / Cabinets Played By @bighat45

Cam / Trash Can Played By @zagzagelshabitation

Captain Jacques Pierrot Played By @fandomaddict505

Celia / Ceiling Played By @lostinablanket

Chairemi / Chair Played By @kaletheatre

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Daisuke / Dishware Played By @meltylov3

Dasha / Desk Played By @accidentalmacandcheese

Dante / Fireplace Played By @exkazlibur

Dirk / Dirty Laundry Played By @insane-rambles

Dishy / Dishwasher Played By @noodledoodlebugs

Dolly / Dust Bunny Played By @shiro-unknown

Dorian / Door Played By @whimsywhomp

Doug /Existential Dread Played By @mikamika06 (MDNI)

Duncan Shuttlecock / Sports Equipment Played By @pqulines-luvvr

Drysdale / Dryer Played By @fandomaddict505

Eddie / Fuse Box Played By @froggers1679 (ON BREAK)

Fantina / Fan Played By @mikamika06

Farya / First Aid Kit Played By @thebiggestplantgirlno15

Florence / Floor Played By @intheairfryer

Freddy / Refrigerator Played By @zack-addy-things

Friar Errol / Air Fryer Played By @salmonandsoup

Hanks 1 - 5 / Hangers Played By @fandomaddict505

Harper / Hamper Played By May

Hector / HVAC Played By @brujtm

Henry Hoover / Vacuum Cleaner Played by @mikamika06

Holly / Holiday Decorations Played By @pqulines-luvvr

I, Ronaldini / Ironing Board Played By @the-depressed-comedic-relief

Jean Loo Pissoir / Toilet Played By @undyworld

Jerry / Junk Drawer Played By @scariffs

Johnny Splash / Shower Played By @the-depressed-comedic-relief

Keith / Skeleton Key Played By @lostinablanket

Keyes / Piano Played by @pqulines-luvvr

Koa / Couch Played by @zack-addy-things

Kopi / Coffee Machine Played by @meltylov3

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Stark Contrast 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, lies, age gap, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: your online friend isn’t who he claims to be.

Characters: Tony Stark

Sister series to Captain’s Orders

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You close yourself in a stall and nearly scream. What the heck? This can't be real. Tony Stark. Eddie. One and the same. It's impossible. 

Think about it. Last night, you texted, then right there, you saw him on screen, check his phone. Coincidence. But then, how did he know your username? He's really good with tech, right? You could easily dox yourself. But then, what about Eddie? Why would he pretend to be some engineer. He is an engineer... 

It's adding up. But it can't. You can't have been talking to Tony Stark for the last year. That's impossible. Not you! 

Alright. You are not going to be his joke. You're going to go out there and tell him you know exactly what he's doing. He's making fun of you and it's not funny at all. Should he, some rich dude, probably the richest dude, have better hobbies? 

You push the stall door and grunt. It's pull. Right. You open it and slip through. 

You hurry to the door and slip in an errant puddle of water. Yeah, it's not your turn to deal with that. Don't stop, don't lose your nerve.  

Who are you to tell off Tony Stark? A billionaire? An avenger? Oof, the more you think about it, the closer you get, the worse an idea this all seems. The more scrambled the words in your head grow. 

You look down the aisles, retracing your steps to where you left him. He's not there. Yet, you hear him. His familiar, quite notable voice, carries in the dead store. Ugh, how did you not realise sooner? Now, you hear it. 

You storm down the soap dish aisle and see him standing casually as he talks to Julie. She doesn't look impressed. You come closer, slowing as his words grow clearer. 

"Yeah, she's quitting." He declares. 

You stop short and do a double take. He's not talking about you. 

"What?" Julie hisses. 

"Yeah, the job sucks. Shit pay," he puts one finger up, his other hand in his pants pocket, "uniform does nothing for that ass, and you're kind of a bitch, Julia." 

"Julie," she snarls and her eyes dart over to you. 

You gulp and sputter. Tony glances at you over his shoulder and smirks. 

"What's going on?" You squeak. 

"Well, sweetheart, I was just sharing the good news that you're moving on to greener pastures." He taunts and turns back to your manager. He tilts his head defiantly. "Not like you'll be hurting. Place is a ghost town." 

You blink as your mouth hangs open. Oh gosh, just when you thought things couldn't get worse. 

"No, I-- I'm not. I don't know him. I don't know what he's talking about--" you argue. 

Julie curls her lip. 

"Ech, you," she points at you, "get out of my store. Now." 

You flinch and look between her and Tony. He steps closer and brings his hand to your lower back. He pushes Julie's hand down. 

"Listen, Julianna, don't point at my girl like that," he warns. 

"Excuse me? This is still my store," she blusters. "I don't care who you are." 

"Uh huh," he clucks and drags his hand along your lower back as he stands straight. He reaches under his jacket and takes out his phone. "Hey, hun," he says as he dials out and puts the phone to his ear, "do me a favour, what's the store number?" 

She scoffs, "go to hell." 

"Fine, whatever," he snickers then leans into the phone, "Hey, Happy, do me a favour, look up the big box store..." he rambles on your city and the location. "Yeah, uh huh. Buy it. No, no, don't ask. Just do it. Thanks." 

He hangs up. You frown and push your shoulders up. This can't be real. 

"We'll wait for the paperwork and all that messy stuff to go through, Jenny," Tony slides his phone away. "But when it does, you're fired. Hell, I might come back just to see you hand in your keys." 

He snorts and swoops his arm around you. You wince as he ushers you forward. You're too dumbfounded to react. What is he doing? What did he do? 

You get outside before you snap back to earth. You plant your feet and try to pull away. He faces you but keep a hold of your arm. 

"So, how about some shwarma--" 

"What did you do? I need this job! I'm-- I'll lose my apartment! Oh, gosh." 

"Relax, that's not going to happen--" 

"I don't-- I-- but--" 

"It's not going to happen, babe," he brings his hand up to frame your face and steps closer, "because you're not gonna be living in that apartment. Say goodbye to this shit heap. You're moving on. Big leagues. New York. I got a nice big condo. A whole tower--" 

"Oh my god," you wriggle free of his grasp and spin away. "Oh, I'm gonna barf. This isn't real. It's not-- Tony-- Eddie. You," you face him again. "Look, this little game, it's not fun for me. You just ruined my life." 

"I bought the damn place. You want a job, I'll put you top of the pay roll--" 

"No, it's-- er--- jeez." 

“Good, because you’re not going to have time,” he goes to grab you and you dodge away from him. 

“Why? Why are you doing this? What are you doing?” You stay just out of reach. 

He smirks, “sweetheart, do you know how many women dream of this? Of me? A handsome billionaire sweeping you away from your boring life.” 

“Other women. Go find them.” 

He laughs. “You’re funny. It’s what I like about you.” 

“Please. Save us both the trouble and just go so I can beg my manager for my livelihood back--” 

You go to step past him and he catches your upper arm. He moves you back and tuts. He’s not smiling anymore. 

“You don’t get it. I’m Tony Stark. I don’t ask for what I want.” He squeezes until you whimper. “So let’s get going. Jet’s waiting.” 

“Jet-- but--” 

“What? Anything you leave behind, I’ll buy a new one, a better one. Now, come on.” He nudges you around and quickly hooks his arm around you. You stagger but he has you scampering. “I’m an important man and you’re about to be a real important woman.” 

“You--you can’t--” 

“I can. I am.” He says coolly as he walks you away from the store. “I flew all the way out here, I told your manager to kick rocks, and now I’m going home with what I came for.” He curls his fingers around your side as a shiny car chirps ahead of you. “Oh, and we both know how you are, sweetheart. You’re not going to stop me.” 

“But-- I--” 

“Private jet’s waiting. I went to all this trouble--” 

“My stuff! My apartment!” You twist out of his grasp. “Wait, wait, wait. This isn’t-- this is a joke.” 

“I’m a funny guy but I have a better sense of humour than that,” he says as he extends his arms. “I’m all yours, baby.” 

You gape at him, “I don’t-- I don’t want... that.” 

“Don’t want me? Don’t want an upgrade?” He scoffs and comes closer, grabbing your hand. “Let me tell ya something. You wouldn’t be so bitter if you weren’t so insecure.” 

“I’m not--” 

“Look, baby, it’s not a bad thing. I’m trying to build you up here. Alright? You hung up on me because you feel powerless, well, I’m gonna give you that power. Money, clothes, diamonds--” 

“Ed-- Tony—I--” you stammer. He’s right. You are helpless. 

“I mean, think about it. Who’s going to stop me?” He grins. “Not you.” 

Your eyes round and you grimace. He laughs again. It irks you. 

“You got no job, soon enough, you’ll be out of that shitty apartment too.” 

“That’s not--” You blink. “Why?” 

“Why? Do I really have to answer that?” 

You stare at him. 

He raises your hand and puts it on his shoulder as he yanks you closer, hooking his other arm around you. You lean away from him as you brace his shoulder. He nuzzles your cheek. 

“I came to take what’s mine,” he growls. “I put too much time into you, sweetheart. Tony Stark doesn’t walk away empty handed.” 

“I’m not... I’m not a thing,” you whisper and look him in the face. 

“No, you’re much more than that,” he assures you as he brings his hand to your chin. “So, let’s get a hop on it.” He drops his hand down your back and taps your ass. “I’m gonna take you back to New York, get you all dolled up, wine ya, dine ya, you know the rest.” 

Your lashes flutter. You’re dizzy. This can’t be real. You keep telling yourself that but here you are. No escape. 

“Alright,” he turns and keeps his arm across your back and checks his watch. “That pilot hates me so better not piss him off. I’ve been in enough crashes.” 

Enough? It’s probably the least concerning thing he’s said. No, it’s just another brick in the wall he built right at your back. 

🔴

You’re so rigid your bones hurt. You grip the arms of the leather chair and stare, wide-eyed, choked into silence. The situation is suffocating enough but it’s that other fear that has you paralysed. 

The thrum of the jet engine has you shaking. You’re still on the ground but not for long. You’re not ready to take off, let alone to go with this man. 

“Have some scotch,” Tony nudges your shoulder from beside you. “It’ll help.” 

You don’t react. You need to get up and leave. He can’t just spirit you away like this. It doesn’t matter if he is Iron Man. Well, you should go but you can’t move. 

“Sweetheart,” he touches your hand. “This your first time?” 

You whimper. 

He snickers and spreads his hand over yours. He peels your grip from the armrest and lifts it. Your trembling intensifies as your chest tightens. You can only think of gravity and its deadly consequences. 

“Here,” he wraps your fingers around the cup of scotch, “drink.” 

You can’t resist him as he guides the brim to your lips. He tilts your hand in his and you swallow before you can gag on the strong liquor. You drain half the glass before he pulls your hand back. You stick out your tongue in disgust. 

“Uck!” You grimace. 

“You’ll get used to the expensive stuff,” he chortles and sits back, emptying the rest. “Is this your only first or should I be gentle tonight--” 

“Stop, please,” your voice quavers. 

“You do know who I am, right? This thing falls apart, I got my suit. I’ll get us where we need to go,” he puts the glass down and sits back. “Besides, it’s safety checked and it’s Stark manufactured. That means it’s not going to go down. I will though, just in case you’re wondering.” 

You look at him and he winks. You look forward and shudder. He grabs your hand and you try to rip it away. He’s too strong. He kisses your knuckles. 

The intercom beeps. The pilot comes on, the one he said hates him, and announces that they’re ready to take off. You close your eyes and push yourself into the seat.  

The plane begins to move. Your breath clogs in your chest. You force it out only as your head begins to pulse. 

Tony pets your hand, “ah, baby, don’t worry. Ton’s here.” 

It’s not helping. It’s just a reminder that this isn’t what you want. That no matter what you say or do, or how you feel, that you have no choice in this. He knows that. He doesn’t mean it. He’s not trying to comfort you. He knows exactly the point he’s making. 

He’s going to do whatever the hell he wants, and you’ll do the exact same. Just like this flight, you’re along for the ride. 

[the-catch-center]

SPATIOTEMPORAL CATCH CENTER INTERNAL DOSSIER FILE ID: SCC/INT-REDIRECT/038-577-HARDLOCK-RECALC ACCESS LEVEL: RESTRICTED – LEVEL GAMMA-9 AUTHORIZED HANDLER: TECH-OFFICER INGRID MALM, CONTAINMENT/REINTEGRATION DIVISION SUBJECT STATUS: FULL NEURAL REALIGNMENT IN FINAL PHASE WARP OFFENSE CLASS: VOLITIONAL TEMPORAL IDENTITY SUBVERSION REDIRECT TYPE: HARDLOCK / CULTURAL INVERSION / LOCUS REALLOC

I. SUBJECT ORIGIN PROFILE

ORIGINAL TEMPORAL NAME: Chase Ryland Mercer DOB: July 14, 1993 Birthplace: Denver, Colorado, United States Registered Occupation (2025): Fitness coach, lifestyle influencer, and freelance body aesthetics consultant Known Affinities: Narcissistic identity experimentation, time-loop evasion via biohacking, performance-enhancement narcotics (non-lethal), subcultural integration simulations Catch Center Notes: Subject presented minimal direct temporal risk but extreme destabilization via affective radiation and future-kink aesthetic bleed into mid-tier historical planes. Psych profile indexed a 9.7/10 on the Volitional Timeline Deviance Spectrum — one of the highest this fiscal cycle. Absolutely no sense of restraint or humility. Treated his identity like a goddamn buffet.

II. TARGET TRANSFORMATION TRAJECTORY (INTERCEPTED)

INTENDED IDENTITY (2003 POST-LANDING): Name: Thiago “Tigre” Delgado Projected Identity Arc:

Birthplace Claim: Hialeah, FL (fabricated)

Self-image: “Latin gay icon in the making” — short (5'5"), densely muscled, full-body tattoos (tribal + lowbrow queer iconography), pierced nipples with kinetic rings, surgically enhanced glutes, double-leg implants for enhanced bounce-resilience.

Occupation Goal: Professional gogo dancer / queer nightlife symbol

Nightclub Affiliations: The Vault, Orbit, El Palacio Rojo

Style: Shirtless with suspenders, mesh thongs, patent leather boots; constant chewing of neon gum; four rotating euphoric expression programs (joy, cockiness, defiance, sweatlust).

Behavioral Profile: Hypersexual body-positive provocateur, deliberately transgressive, intensely performative masculinity-as-artifice.

Neurological Tweaks: Neuroplastic conditioning toward unrelenting confidence, delayed shame response, and chemically stabilized erotic charisma.

Projected Impact: High-density affective ripple in Miami’s 2003 queer scene with ripple effects into early influencer psychology, erotic commodification economies, and third-wave queer liberation dynamics. Comment from Handler Malm:

“Oh, Thiago. Tigre. Whatever. He really thought the multiverse needed another sweaty himbo grinding on a speaker. The man was halfway to becoming a synthetic fetish idol for future anthropology textbooks. The sheer vanity. We had no choice. This was not a deviant with flair — this was a firework in a fireworks store.”

III. INTERCEPTION REPORT – REASSIGNMENT INITIATED

CATCH EVENT: May 18, 2025 Location: Lisbon Warp Corridor, Tier-2 Jump Stagger (unauthorized, amateur shield) Containment Class: STORMLOCK (Emergency Full Override – Cultural Reintegration) Time Misalignment Window: 2.44 seconds (longer than average, subject suffered visible neural stuttering)

IV. REDIRECTED IDENTITY PROFILE – FINALIZED REASSIGNMENT

NEW LEGAL IDENTITY: Name: Gerald Wayne Huxley DOB: March 19, 1938 Birthplace: Waco, Texas Current Year Placement: 1982 Occupation: Senior Enlistment Officer, United States Marine Corps (Ret.) – Lubbock Military Recruitment Center

V. PHYSICAL RECONSTRUCTION – FINALIZED PARAMETERS

Height: 6’5” Weight: 276 lbs Body Composition:

Upper body mass exaggerated to near cartoonish bulk, consistent with Cold War recruitment propaganda aesthetic.

Forearms vascular, heavily tanned, and riddled with deep scarring (simulation implants for combat credibility).

Waistline high, torso thick with almost immobile girth.

Feet: Size 28EE – biometric flag for timeline recapture trace. Intentionally disproportionate.

Hair:

Color: Faded iron gray

Cut: Exact regulation flat top — high-precision, bristly, square. No fade, no softness. Facial Features:

Square jaw recalibrated with reinforced temporal mass to suggest hardened aging.

Nose slightly misaligned (simulated boxing injury).

Mustache: Oversized, thick, dark bristles — exaggerated variant of “Tom Selleck Regulation 8,” protruding nearly 2.5cm beyond lip edge. Skin:

Textured, sun-damaged, mid-oil saturation level.

All tattoos (real and desired) erased.

Scar tissue simulated on clavicle and left thigh.

Wardrobe (Perpetual Issue):

Olive green slacks (1982 standard military recruiter issue)

Brown oxfords, scuffed at toe

Khaki button-up with two front creased pockets

Brown leather belt with brass buckle Note: Uniforms reissued weekly. No variation permitted.

Handler Malm Commentary:

“He went from mesh crop tops and chest oil to starch and brass in one warp-snap. Beautiful. He twitched for 19 seconds trying to say ‘vamos’ through a jaw that now only knows how to bark ‘Oorah.’”

VI. PSYCHOGENETIC REALIGNMENT

Override Protocol: A7-A6 “PATRIOT CORE + MEMORY FLUSH”

Emotional Expression Index: Reduced to 1.8 (gruff approval, disapproval, silent nod)

Deviance Tolerance: 0.00

Neural Aversion Implants: Triggered by visual/audio contact with queer subcultures

Memory Replacement:

Vietnam veteran (fictionalized unit, real deployment logs)

Divorcee (3x)

Current hobbies include grilling, lecturing teens, hating hippies

Belief Reprogramming: Fully loyal to Reagan administration, believes in draft reinstatement, thinks disco “destroyed the American man.”

Residual Symptoms:

Minor lip spasms when attempting to recall “Thia—”

Left hip occasionally executes pre-conditioned “grind” motion in sleep (projected to phase out in 14 days)

Vague nostalgia toward low-saturation lighting and rhythmic basslines (marked irrelevant by override)

Handler Malm Commentary:

“He thinks Studio 54 was a socialist training camp now. I love my job.”

VII. TIMELINE OUTCOME

PROJECTED LIFE TRAJECTORY:

1982–1994: Works at regional recruitment center, trains new hires

1995–2000: Retires, becomes semi-local figure in Lubbock VFW

2001: Minor stroke, mobility decline

Death: February 19, 2002, 11:24 a.m., Amarillo VA Hospital — confirmed stroke, no anomalous triggers, timeline preserved

Post-Death Integrity: Subject marked as “Historically Plausible and Emotionally Nullified”

Handler Malm Final Notes:

“We’ve taken a man who wanted to shake his surgically plumped ass to reggaeton under strobe lights and turned him into a one-man recruitment pamphlet. He’s exactly where he belongs: forgotten, rigid, and 100% unsexy. A victory for the timeline. And frankly? A little cathartic.”

END OF DOSSIER FILE LOCKED DO NOT DISTRIBUTE WITHOUT CLASS-GAMMA OVERRIDE

[jacksabbotts]

⤷ . ᵒ . 🛋️ 🫐 📘 .༄ NAVIGATION! ࿔* ━━ ⋅⋆

main masterlist || inbox || recs and resources

★ 彡 ABOUT ME ❪ if you care ❫ ✺ * · alyssia/lyss ❪ no this is not my real name ❫ . . . twenty-one . . . healthcare worker . . . full time student . . . currently obsessed with the pitt and corenswet!superman !!!

★ 彡 CURRENT WORKS ❪ as of july twenty ❫ ☆  . . . morgue tech!reader ! ☆  . . . artist!reader ! ☆  . . . admin!reader ! ☆  . . . luthor!reader ! ❪ coming soon ❫

layout inspo * ✷ ⊹ * ˚ join the taglist . ᵒ .༄ dividers by @cafekitsune + @uzmacchiato

# Ⓒ all character rights belong the original creators. all non canon compliant works belong me as i am the writer. some of my works are sfw but most are nsfw so as a general rule, i will label everything 18+. please read trigger warnings very carefully before reading any works. i am not responsible for your media consumption. ageless blogs will be blocked. MDNI 18+ !!!!!

[mi6-cafe]

It’s almost time to sign up for 007 Fest!

What is 007 Fest?

007 Fest is a month-long July celebration of all things Bond! This year marks our 10th Fest!

This year, the storyline we are following is dueling conferences. Agencies from all over the world are coming together in the spirit of cooperation and trust. It’s JELLYFISH Con!

For four days, agencies will show off their new tech, brag about the skills of their agents, showcase anything and everything. The goal? To form new alliances between agencies, inter-agency agent partnerships that can be called upon in times of need.

Everything is a little tense when trying to get naturally suspicious people to work together, but the biggest challenge might not be anything anyone predicted. It might be the convention happening on the floor below theirs: The International Mystery Writers Convention.

It's up to you, the support staff, the hotel staff, the B team who make things run smoothly to ensure that's what happens this time, too. When you sign up for Fest, start thinking about how you want to fit into this world. It's not critical, but there are some fun bonus challenges that build on some role play elements. Don't worry about which agency you might be a part of; we will be assigning time-zone-based stations for Fest depending on the demographics of sign ups.

During July, decide on your goals at the beginning of each week in July. Completing these weekly goals helps save the conference from that week’s threat! (But if you don’t complete them…well…maybe your station’s part of the conference ends up a little more lava-covered than it was before…yes, even though you’re not anywhere near a volcano… Luckily, you can help each other out!)

More info on our wordpress or our tumblr post.

I don’t write or art! Can I still participate?

Absolutely! If you want, you can only make social goals—hosting or joining watch parties or Discord chats, for example.

We also have fun immersive goals/scavenger hunt activities that don’t involve writing or arting.

Additionally, the ‘creative’ goals don’t have to involve fanfic or fanart; if your weekly goal is to make 5 James Bond memes or three headcanons, we support that!

And if you want to make a “hold my beer” level of goal, we also offer prompt tables and other challenges!

You can also participate without goals during certain weeks or the whole month if you want! 007 Fest is as chill or as high-key as you want to make it.

How can I sign up?

Sign-ups are open June 1st until June 15! Just fill out the form (forthcoming in a reblog) and we’ll contact you around June 18 so you can meet your team. If you’d like to onboard after that, you can, it will just take the mods a little longer.

We look forward to saving the world with you in July! :D

[maielasworld]

☿ Mercury Retrograde in Leo – July 18 to August 11, 2025

A fire sign retrograde full of drama, pride, and rediscovery. Expect delays, revelations, and cosmic rewinds—especially in matters of self-expression, romance, and creativity. 🌞🎭💌

♈ Aries Rising

Mercury backspins through your 5th house — creativity, romance, pleasure, children.

→ Old crushes may resurface. Misunderstandings in love. Creative blocks or surprises. What once sparked joy may ask to be reimagined.

♉ Taurus Rising

Mercury retrogrades in your 4th house — home, family, roots.

→ Ghosts from the past knock on your door. Conversations at home feel foggy. Delays in renovations. An emotional rewind calling for healing.

♊ Gemini Rising

Mercury rewinds in your 3rd house — thoughts, communication, siblings, short trips.

→ Glitches in your words, tech issues, sudden travel chaos. A sibling or old classmate could reappear. Revisit a subject you once loved to learn.

♋ Cancer Rising

Mercury retrograde visits your 2nd house — money, self-worth, values.

→ Budget confusion, unexpected expenses, value check. This isn’t just about money—it’s about how deeply you believe in your worth.

♌ Leo Rising

Mercury dances backward in your 1st house — identity, presence, the face you show the world.

→ You may feel misunderstood. The mirror reflects uncertainty. Let your inner voice guide you before stepping into the spotlight.

♍ Virgo Rising

Mercury reverses in your 12th house — dreams, solitude, fears, the unseen.

→ Your inner world is louder now. Old wounds whisper. Give yourself space to rest. Avoid overthinking what intuition already knows.

♎ Libra Rising

Mercury rewinds in your 11th house — friendships, networks, dreams for the future.

→ A friend from the past might return. Drama in group chats. Rethink your goals—do they still feel like you?

♏ Scorpio Rising

Mercury turns retrograde in your 10th house — career, public image, ambition.

→ Delays at work. Authority figures test your patience. It’s time to ask yourself: does this path still align with your purpose?

♐ Sagittarius Rising

Mercury retrogrades in your 9th house — beliefs, travel, philosophy, higher education.

→ Postponed plans, shifting truths. What do you believe now? Look out for déjà vu moments from past studies or mentors.

♑ Capricorn Rising

Mercury dips into your 8th house — intimacy, transformation, shared resources.

→ Hidden things surface. Watch contracts, emotional and financial. Old fears might echo—face them with courage, not control.

♒ Aquarius Rising

Mercury moves backward in your 7th house — relationships, partnerships, contracts.

→ Mixed signals in love or collaborations. An ex might resurface. Re-evaluate who you’re aligning with—and why.

♓ Pisces Rising

Mercury retrogrades through your 6th house — health, habits, daily routine.

→ Schedule mess-ups, tired minds, scattered tasks. Prioritize rest. Your body’s whispers matter more than your to-do list.

✨ Mercury retrograde isn’t a curse. It’s a call to slow down, listen closer, and revisit what you may have rushed through before. Especially in Leo—let your heart speak, but make sure your mind is clear first. ♌🕯️

[thatskynews]

Sky Patched Calendar Ver. 0.26.0: A Guide for Sky Events

SkyFest (Sky Anniversary Celebration)

Season of Duet

Tournament of Triumph

SkyFest: A 5th Birthday Like No Other! (July 12 - July 26)

Duration: 17:00 July 12th through 23:59 July 26th; all times PDT, UTC -7. (Yes, not the daily reset time. This is so the in-game celebration starts at the exact same time that the in-person SkyFest celebration starts in Tokyo, Japan!)

From July 12th through 14th, you can find actual in-game livestreams of talks in these locations:

History of Sky Gallery (Isle of Dawn)

Art of Sky Gallery (Hidden Forest)

SkyFest Cinema (Eye of Eden)

Scheduled Events

July 12

19:00 - Guided Tour of Sky’s History with the devs (History Gallery) - Join us on a live tour through the History Gallery as we share stories and more about how Sky became what it is today!

20:00 - SkyFest 2024 Keynote with Jenova Chen (SkyFest Cinema) - Let’s just say, you don’t want to miss this one…

23:00 - How We Got 10,000 Players into a Level (SkyFest Cinema) - Here’s a peek at how our engineering team created the tech that helped us set a GUINNESS WORLD RECORDS™ title!

July 13

18:00 - Design at Record-Breaking Scale in Sky: Children of the Light (SkyFest Cinema) - It’s okay, you can cry! Learn how the team designed the AURORA Concert to make it a memorable and moving experience.

19:00 - Guided Tour of Sky’s Art with the devs (Art Gallery) - Take a tour through the Art Gallery as we talk about some of the art that played a key role in Sky’s development.

22:00 - An Exploration of the Art of Sky (SkyFest Cinema) - How did Sky first come to life in its earliest days? See how art played a key role in the ideas that ultimately evolved into Sky’s world and lore.

July 14

00:00 - Designing to Reduce Toxicity in Online Games (SkyFest Cinema) - How do you make a game that welcomes everybody, with a world that allows compassion and generosity to blossom?

01:00 - SkyFest LIVE Community Concert (SkyFest Cinema) - Sky’s first-ever live in-game concert! Player musicians from around the world will give a memorable performance featuring classic favorites, original compositions, and of course, some of the community’s favorite Sky songs. (This is a one-time-only concert that won’t replay after July 14th, so be sure to join us at the SkyFest Cinema to see it!)

During SkyFest, you can take a shortcut to the secret area by meditating at the Events Shop in Aviary Village. The gates are open to all, so you can join the dance party and watch Spirits take the rooftop stage. Just for the 5th anniversary, the Secret Area will have a display of three capes from past collaborations—the display will allow you to teleport to the special areas that came with each collab, no cape use necessary!

Four star-shaped tokens can be found around the village each day.

New Items

SkyFest 5th Anniversary Headband: 4 event currency

SkyFest Jenova Fan: 8 event currency

SkyFest 5th Anniversary T-shirt: 12 event currency

SkyFest Star Jar: 16 event currency

(40 tickets in total / 4 = 10 days to get all items - 15 days of the event = 5 days extra time)

New IAPs:

SkyFest Oreo Headband: $4.99 (all prices USD)

SkyFest Wireframe Cape: $19.99 - This cape comes with a special ability: After SkyFest ends, it can be used to access the SkyFest version of Aviary, including the History and Art Galleries plus the SkyFest Cinema. Videos from the SkyFest Cinema will replay after SkyFest on a schedule. (Please note that this cape provides access to the SkyFest event spaces ONLY.)

Returning Items

Anniversary Party Lights: 33 Hearts

Anniversary Sonorous Seashell: 33 Ascended Candles

Light Fence, Birthday Flag props: 20 Candles each

Balloon prop: 30 Candles

Happy Birthday Music Sheet: 10 Hearts

Confetti Launcher: 20 Hearts

Anniversary Plush: $9.99

Season of Duets (July 15 to September 29th)

Season Pass holders have the chance to unlock three Ultimate Gifts, and a mask can be unlocked for regular Candles even after the Season ends.

Season of Duets begins at July 15th and continues until September 29th.

Tournament of Triumph (July 29 to August 18th)

New Format to the Event Currency System:

2 event currency in the event area daily

Event currency pool (1): 25 in the first ten days of the event

Event currency pool (2): 25 in the second ten days of the event

5 event currency in the event area on the last day (Aug. 18)

Players can earn one event currency each time they complete a Tournament game, including after repeating a game, up to the total number of event currency available in each “pool.” Then, 25 more become available when the second half of the Tournament begins.

Event Items

Tournament Curls: 25 event currency

Tournament Torch: 37 event currency

Tournament Golden Garland: $4.99

Tournament Tunic: $9.99

[amber-aura]

Let us Live since we must Die: Chapter 4: Happy Birthday?

Summary: In 1932, something happened in Mississippi. Something no one could explain. In 2001, a baby was born under a sky that remembered. In 2025, she’s about to find out why. Breana Rae has the power to tear through space, but what she really wants is to connect the pieces of her past. When a rare celestial event reawakens the ghosts of a buried tragedy, Breana is pulled into a mystery far older and far deeper than she ever imagined.

Pairing: Remmick x black!oc

A/N: This chapter was planned to be edited and released 3-5 days ago, but I fell sick so it's late :( But good news! The story officially begins!

Warnings: 18+ comments only. Minors, you can read but do not interact with any of my works. Angst, graphic mentions of blood and gore, eventual smut, slow burn, slurs, mentions of suicide, emetophobia, sexual assault, murder, etc. Will continue adding more as the story progresses for the sake of any new readers.

Word count: 5k

Typing. Typing. Still typing...

Breana had been glued to her laptop for nearly two hours straight, her fingers a blur across the keyboard as she dove deeper into a rabbit hole of research. The hum of the AC in her loft barely registered anymore, her focus razor-sharp as she scanned through articles, forums, archived records—anything that could shed light on 1930s Mississippi.

Her assistants were mildly baffled. Why the sudden obsession with the early 20th century South? Why Mississippi of all places? But they knew better than to pry. Breana had her moods and her muses. Sometimes it was ancient myths. Other times, avant-garde fashion history. This time, it was Jim Crow-era Mississippi. They didn’t ask questions. They just brought her coffee and kept her schedule clear.

Breana didn’t need to start from scratch. She already knew a decent amount thanks to her parents' love of documentaries and her own curiosity about history. But now? Now she needed clarity. Context. Details. She wasn’t just learning—she was piecing something together.

Even so, just reading about that time made her skin crawl.

“Nope,” she muttered to herself, eyes scanning a headline about the rise of white supremacy groups in the 1930s. “Couldn’t have been me.”

The very idea of living back then was a nightmare. No air conditioning. No decent healthcare. No advanced tech. No women’s rights. No rights for people of color—well, not real ones. It was technically illegal to just exist freely if you were the wrong shade of melanin or had the wrong chromosomes. And sure, America still had its systemic bullshit in the present day, but at least she could talk about it without being shot on sight.

“Fair wages? Nonexistent. Racist police? Oh, they been here. The Klan? Running wild like they were police.”

She shook her head and leaned back in her chair, letting out a deep, tired sigh. “And don’t even get me started on that god-awful Mississippi heat. No thank you.”

Her lips curled in slight amusement as her mind drifted to the everyday inconveniences of life back then. Making food from scratch—every single time. Relying on radios for news. Dresses with petticoats and stockings in the middle of summer, no deodorant worth a damn.

“Oh no, they got me fucked up,” she muttered, scrolling past a sepia-toned photo of women in heavy dresses and lace gloves. “I wouldn't wear a damn velvet corset in July. That’s not elegance. That’s a slow bake.”

Still…not everything about the era was a total bust. She had to admit—1930s fashion? S'alright. The silhouettes were graceful, the fabrics had texture, and those sweetheart necklines? Iconic. If she could snatch some of those designs and remix them for a stage outfit, she just might.

But it wasn’t the style that kept her glued to the screen. It was the people. The culture. The pain, the joy, the survival. She wanted to know what kind of world Mary, Elias, and the others had lived in before everything went to hell. What kind of music floated through their windows at night. What kind of dreams they whispered in the dark, even when the world tried to silence them.

She wasn’t just curious anymore. She felt tethered.

Something about it—about them ���was pulling her deeper. And part of her didn’t mind being pulled.

Breana clicked over to her notepad document, eyes scanning the bullet points she’d messily typed out while going down this historical rabbit hole. She read them out loud, more to herself than anyone else.

“Alright…if I were to actually be in 1930s Mississippi—God help me—I’d have to know how to play the part. Let’s see…”

She adjusted in her seat, legs crossed, hair tied up in a scarf now to keep it out of her face. She’d pulled it up in frustration an hour ago, and now it kind of matched the vintage vibe she was reading about. Cute. Maybe unintentionally prophetic.

Always use formal titles when speaking to white people. Even if they’re being disrespectful, which they will be, say “yes ma’am” and “no sir.”

Do not look white men in the eye for too long.

Avoid walking alone at night, especially outside of your own neighborhood.

If someone accuses you of something, don’t argue. Just survive.

Breana blinked. “Jesus…”

That last line stung more than it should’ve. But it was true, wasn’t it? That was the law of survival for Black folk back then. Hell, even now sometimes.

She sighed again and kept reading.

Keep your speech “mild.” Don’t sound too educated around the wrong crowd. Don’t draw attention.

Smile when necessary. Stay polite. But never too friendly.

Segregation is the law. Don’t sit at the front of buses, don’t drink from the wrong fountain, don’t use the wrong entrance.

“Don’t breathe too loud. Don’t exist too much. Got it,” she muttered bitterly, highlighting that line just to remind herself it wasn’t hyperbole.

She scrolled further.

Jobs available to Black women: domestic work, sharecropping, laundry, seamstress, midwife if lucky.

Education limited—especially in the South.

Medical care? Almost nonexistent unless you know someone.

Her lips curled in frustration.

And yet, somehow…Mary, Elias, their community—those people had laughed, loved, danced, lived. All while under a system designed to suffocate them.

She didn’t know whether to feel proud or overwhelmed.

Then there were the notes she wrote specifically for herself:

Learn the lingo.

Clothing: Wear dresses. Loose, breathable. Light cotton or linen. Natural look. Wear your hair "short and kept" like the white women (eye roll)

Keep modern expressions to yourself unless you wanna get side-eyed. No slang from TikTok, dummy.

Learn how to cook something from scratch. You’ll need that to earn trust. Or survive. Or both.

Breana leaned back again, staring at the ceiling now. Her eyes were tired, but her spirit felt wired.

This wasn’t just research anymore.

She was prepping for something. Something she didn’t quite understand yet—but her gut said she’d need all of this. Soon.

And if this strange new path was going to demand she walk into someone else’s century? 

She’d be ready...not-

But Lord, it better not be during the peak of summer. She could handle trauma, magic, vampires—but she drew the line at sweating through a cotton petticoat.

“Let me go back with common sense and a heat-resistant body, God,” she muttered, stretching her arms with a dramatic sigh. “Please and thank you.”

Then, she saved the file and titled it simply:

“How to Survive the 1930s"

Just as Breana was about to close her laptop and maybe take a break before her brain melted from history overload, there was a knock on her open studio door.

“Hey, Bree?” one of her assistants, Rayna, peeked her head in, followed by Malik right behind her, holding a smoothie like he knew she hadn’t eaten all day.

“Your birthday’s tomorrow,” Rayna said, walking in like it was breaking news. “You need to decide what you wanna do. Party? Dinner? Photoshoot? Private island escape? Aliens-only rave?”

Breana blinked, still a little mentally stuck in 1932 Mississippi. “Uh…”

Malik handed her the smoothie. “At least drink this before you fry your brain.”

She took it. “Thanks.”

Rayna flopped onto the arm of the nearby couch. “So? What are we doin’? The people are gonna be watchin’. This is the first birthday since your EP release and you’ve got followers foaming at the mouth waiting to see you do something glamorous.”

Breana sipped the smoothie, eyes a little glazed. “Can we just…eat some good food and chill? That’s really all I want.”

Malik raised an eyebrow. “Like…chill-chill or your version of chill, which means binge watching Spongebob and somehow getting drunk on ice cream?"

Breana smirked without answering.

Rayna rolled her eyes playfully. “Alright. But for real, you do need to post tomorrow. Instagram, TikTok, all that. Fans are already making edits with your countdown posts.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Breana waved a lazy hand. “I’ll post somethin’. Y’all can take a picture or whatever.”

Rayna side-eyed her. “We are not just gonna take a picture . You’re a brand. Your whole aesthetic is like…soul-deep goddess trapped in a dreamscape.”

“Okay…” Breana replied dryly, sipping again. “Then let me dreamscape in peace tonight.”

Malik laughed. “We’ll let you rest. Just don’t ghost tomorrow. You gotta give the people something. Even if it’s just a selfie with your cat.”

“I don’t have a cat,” Breana mumbled.

“Well…you seem like you should have one. You give cat girl energy.”

Rayna and Malik left, still teasing as they went. Breana stayed seated, smoothie in hand, staring ahead at nothing in particular.

Her birthday was tomorrow.

And something was coming.

Something…

Breana stared down at her notes again, the pages covered in scribbled questions, bullet points—her own chaotic little web of connections.

Logically, there was only one conclusion to draw from all of it. The kind of conclusion that would’ve made her raise her eyebrows if someone else had said it out loud.

Time travel.

That’s what everything was pointing to.

She blinked slowly at the thought, as if waiting for her own brain to catch up to what she’d just admitted.

“I can’t seriously be entertaining this,” she muttered to herself.

But...wasn’t she?

She could already open rifts. That alone threw the rulebook out the window. That day when her emotions surged and the very fabric of reality tore open in front of her—that was the moment the impossible stopped being “impossible.” It was the moment she learned the world wasn’t just weird—it was malleable .

And now?

She had an alignment happening on her birthday—the same rare celestial alignment that last occurred on the day she was born. She’d just met two vampires from 1932 Mississippi , the exact same era her DNA test pointed to when tracking her ancestral roots. The timing was too perfect, too unnerving.

Like she kept saying, none of this was a coincidence. None of it.

The rational part of her brain begged her to calm down. Breathe. But the deeper part—her intuition, her soul—whispered something else.

“Prepare.”

Breana exhaled sharply and tossed her phone from one hand to the other, thinking.

“Let’s just say I do go back in time…” she whispered, eyes scanning her notes again.

Her thoughts drifted to Mary and Elias—two undead souls tethered to the past but walking quietly through the present. They knew that world, the one she was beginning to suspect she’d soon be entering.

Assuming they weren’t too busy—considering, you know, the whole being-vampires-and-can’t-go-outside-during-the-day thing—maybe she could shoot Mary and Elias a quick text.

Just for comfort to check up on them.

Breana sat cross-legged on her bed, staring at her phone like it might bite her back. Her fingers hovered over the group chat and hesitated.

Then, she just started typing.

Breana: good morningggg. hope y’all aren’t sleeping in too much 😅

Breana: i was thinking about our convo from last night. you free to talk again later?

She stared at it for a second, then hit send. She figured if they were still asleep— actually can they sleep? She doesn’t know. Whatever, they’d just get to it when they could.

To her surprise, the typing bubbles popped up immediately.

Mary Mary: Good mornin’ girl ☀️ we’re always up dw, what’s up?

Breana felt a little relieved at the warm response, then quickly followed up:

Breana: nothing deep just had some more questions and i dunno, y’all are chill to talk to. plus it’s my bday eve lol

Mary Mary: Ohhhh! 👀

Mary Mary: I was just tellin Stack you prob got folks lined up for tomorrow. You got plans yet?

Before Breana could reply, Stack beat her to it.

Stack: i told her you was gon’ be booked n busy

Stack: but if you ain’t, we’ll happily steal a few minutes after sunset 😎

Breana grinned a little at that. She replied:

Breana: yeah it might be a busy day but i don’t got plans set in stone yet.

Breana: might just do something chill

Breana: or disappear and hide from the world for 24 hrs, haven’t decided 💀

Mary’s reply came fast:

Mary Mary: Girl that’s valid tbh

Mary Mary: But if you feel like talkin tonight, we’ll be at the usual spot. Just text

Stack: bring snacks

Mary Mary: 🙄

Breana chuckled and was feeling a weird comfort bloom in her chest. These two were something else. Unusual as hell, literally, but familiar in a way she didn’t expect. 

But it was good to know someone was out there who could hold space with her in the meantime.

She stretched her arms over her head, rolled her neck, and whispered to herself:

“Okay. I’m not alone.”

Not yet, anyway.

Breana: btw been doing some research this morning

Breana: about your era...

A pause. She watched the three dots flicker under Mary’s name. Then:

Mary Mary: 👀 Oh really now, why tho?

Breana bit the inside of her cheek. She couldn’t say “just in case I get yeeted through a tear in space-time.” So instead:

Breana: idk just been thinking more about stuff you two said

Breana: trying to understand the time y’all came from

Breana: it’s wild to think about how different things were back then and how much hasn’t changed too

Stack chimed in, of course.

Stack: girl it was a whole other planet back then

Stack: no AC, no internet, no rights, and bread was a nickel 😭

Stack: mary used to churn her own butter lmao

Mary Mary: STOP LYING TO THIS GIRL I AIN’T NEVER CHURNED NO DAMN BUTTER

Breana laughed aloud, then replied:

Breana: 😭😭 y’all are ridiculous

Breana: but fr, it’s interesting. learning how folks survived, how they dressed, talked…

Breana: even the little stuff like what people cooked or how they dealt with the heat

There was a pause before Mary responded again, this time a bit more sincere:

Mary Mary: Well, if you ever got questions about how life really felt back then you know we got stories for days

Mary Mary: Not just the bad stuff either

Mary Mary: We laughed a lot, we danced, we loved hard…it wasn’t all pain

That hit Breana deep. She stared at the message for a while, then replied:

Breana: yeah. i’d love to hear more of those stories sometime

Breana: i’ll text y’all tonight after i get some stuff done

Stack: we’ll be up. undead and wide awake 😂

Mary Mary: Behave, Stack

Mary Mary: Talk soon, Bree 💙

Breana smiled down at her screen, then tossed the phone on her bed again and leaned back with a soft exhale.

What time was it now? 11:30—late morning bleeding into early afternoon. Still quiet enough for peace, but just loud enough for distractions. With nothing else urgent pulling at her attention, Breana flopped onto her bed and unlocked her phone.

Might as well check in.

She opened FaceTime, called a few close friends just to hear their voices, share some quick laughs, and pretend—if only for a minute—that everything was just normal. Then came the scroll. Instagram. TikTok.

Tik...

Tok...

Her thumb stopped on a video with her name in the caption. Birthday posts. A handful of them, actually—fan edits, countdowns, even an astrology TikTok theorizing about what each planet means for your life according to your zodiac for tomorrow’s planetary alignment.

She didn’t even blink. She’d liked so many spiritual and astrology videos that her fyp had flooded.

At first, the news unsettled her.

But not anymore.

No more anxiety, no more questioning. She'd decided: whatever life had planned, it was gonna do it anyway. Might as well face it with her chin up.

A couple of minutes later, her assistants popped in, practically buzzing with excitement.

“Okay, quick reminder,” one of them said, clipboard in hand. “Tommorows your birthday gathering. Just a small thing. Parents, friends, your fave stylists, and us.”

“And yes,” the other chimed in, “we’ll be posting. Everyone’s gonna wanna see what you’re up to tomorrow, so we’re spreading it across Insta and TikTok, don’t fight it.”

Breana just nodded, letting herself smile a little. “Yeah, that’s fine.”

They didn’t need to know what was looming in the back of her mind. They didn’t need to know she was halfway convinced this was her last normal birthday.

Let them have their fun. Let the posts go up.

If tomorrow really changed everything…then tonight? Tonight she’d have her cake. And she was damn sure gonna eat it too.

Today had officially become tomorrow.

Breana's birthday had arrived.

She sat quietly in a velvet-backed chair, legs crossed at the ankles, while her hairstylist gently tugged and twisted her hair into one of her favorite styles—an intricate criss-cross rubber band braid pattern at the crown, with the rest of her hair was loose and full. The stylist’s fingers moved with care and precision, like an artist touching up the final strokes of a masterpiece.

Breana held her phone up and captured a few shots in the mirror—angles, lighting, a little lip gloss pop—before uploading the final look to her Instagram story. She tagged her stylist with a glitter emoji and a heart. Grateful, always.

Once her hair was finished, her assistants ushered her back into her room, chatting excitedly about the day’s schedule and what would be posted when. Together, they helped her slip into her outfit for the party—a dress she had chosen weeks in advance but still gasped at when she saw herself in the mirror. 

It was a black and white, off-shoulder bow-tied stunner, perfectly hugging her form while still giving her the freedom to breathe, to move, to feel . She paired the dress with sheer transparent tights and tall, sharp black stilettos.

Then came the descent down the hall to the living room.

The second she stepped into view—

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!”

The room erupted with voices, flashes of phone cameras, and a collective energy so warm it made Breana pause for a moment, just to soak it in. For a second, the air felt slower.

She almost cried.

There they were—her parents. Her friends. Her inner circle. All gathered just for her. She hadn’t seen her parents in nearly two months, which made their presence that much more emotional.

“Mom! Dad! ” she beamed, practically running toward them, heels clicking across the hardwood floor with power and precision—because yes, Breana was that girl who could run in stilettos and not fall once.

“Hey, darlin’! Happy 25th birthday!” her dad said with a voice full of pride as he embraced her.

“Hey baby, we haven’t seen you in a minute! Ooooh you look beautiful ,” her mom chimed in, pulling her into a hug like she was still fourteen.

They laid their gifts on the table—among many others from friends and colleagues—wrapped in everything from sleek matte black paper to glittery, rainbow explosion chaos. It was a corner of love and celebration.

The party buzzed around her with the sweet comfort of soul food scents drifting through the air—collard greens, baked mac and cheese, fried chicken, candied yams, cornbread—the works. It had been catered by a high-end Black-owned spot Breana personally requested, and the flavor alone felt like coming home.

Then came the cakes.

Yes— cakes.

The first one? A classic vanilla layered masterpiece, made just for Breana by her parents.

At the top, in blue frosting and yellow letters, it read:

“What’s funnier than 24? 25. Happy birthday!”

Breana burst out laughing. “ Y’all are too much! ” she said through giggles. Spongebob was one of her favorite cartoons of all time, and this was peak humor. 

The second cake, much larger and meant for guests to share, was a red velvet cake adorned with edible flowers and gold flakes. 

Photos were taken nonstop—candid moments, selfies with her besties, and formal poses with her family. Her assistants worked behind the scenes, uploading clips, tagging everyone, managing posts across Instagram, TikTok, and Twitter.

Breana didn’t bother checking her phone. Not yet.

Right now, all she wanted to do was laugh, eat, hug everyone in the room, and hold onto this little oasis of love as tightly as she could.

The laughter in the living room echoed behind her like a sweet chorus, champagne glasses clinking, music humming low beneath the hum of conversation. Someone had just made a joke and everyone erupted, including her parents. It was a perfect moment.

Too perfect.

Breana’s smile faltered just slightly as something pulled at her gut. A tight, cold little thread that hadn’t snapped since the moment she opened her eyes this morning.

She blinked once, twice.

The alignment…

She didn’t say it out loud. She didn’t have to. That thought alone made her mouth go dry.

“Oh crap,” she said softly, just enough for her assistant to hear. “I forgot something—I left it in my room, just give me one sec.”

Before they could even respond or follow up, she turned with a casual wave and headed back down the hallway. Her heels clicked a bit faster this time, but not enough to raise concern. Her heart, however, was pounding.

Once in her bedroom, she shut the door gently—no slam, no theatrics. She was calm… enough.

Until she checked her phone.

The screen lit up with a burst of notifications.

Instagram DMs. Comments. Story tags. TikTok mentions. Duets of fans singing her songs. Edits of her best performance moments. Birthday tributes, fanart, memes—even one dramatic video of someone pretending to faint at the thought of meeting her.

“Happy Birthday, Breana!!! QUEEN ENERGY!!”

“She’s 25 and still not aging?? How??”

“Hope this is your best year yet!!”

Her finger hovered above a video of her laughing earlier at the cake. Her assistants had already edited and posted it. She smiled at her digital self.

Then a new banner appeared at the top of the screen:

Mary Mary & Stack 💙:

Happy birthday, Bree. Don’t get too drunk, see you tonight or tomorrow -Mary Marywhat she said. hope it’s a good one young blood. 🥂 -Stack

She smiled. But the warmth didn’t last.

Because that gut feeling returned—stronger now.

She quickly opened her search bar and typed without fully thinking:

“Celestial Alignment Time May 7th, 2025”

The top result loaded instantly:

“The peak alignment will occur at approximately 1:47 PM PST…”

Breana glanced at the time on her phone.

1:44 PM.

Her breath caught.

She stood there, frozen, as the realization punched through her chest like a bass drop.

“Three minutes… ” she whispered out loud.

Then panic set in.

“Okay—okay okay okay okay okay,” she mumbled, backing up a little, gripping the phone like it was an anchor and she was already being pulled out to sea. Her breathing quickened. She felt a burn behind her eyes. Her hands started to sweat.

Forget her earlier nonchalance. She wasn’t ready. She wasn’t ready.

Breana inhaled deeply—once, then twice—holding the breath in her chest like it might glue all her nerves back in place. She checked the time again. 1:46 PM.

One minute.

She set her phone down on the nightstand. No more looking. No more spiraling.

Just go back out there.

She shook her arms out, forced her best I’m-not-panicking smile, and opened the door.

The second she stepped back into the living room, the atmosphere swallowed her whole again. Jazz music played now, something her stylist picked, smooth and classy. Her parents were dancing together by the windows, her friends chatting by the champagne table. Someone had popped open another bottle.

“There you are!” one of her assistants called out. 

“Come on, come on, we’re about to cut the big cake!” another friend shouted, holding up her phone to record.

Breana nodded, moving toward the table, blending back into the birthday rhythm. She accepted hugs, opened a gift or two, and even let one of her friends convince her to take a sip of mimosa (non-alcoholic, thank God—her nerves didn’t need help).

“Alright, make a wish!” her dad announced with a proud grin, already holding up his phone.

The candles flickered, glowing warm and golden against the frosting.

One minute left…

Breana stared at the flames.

She didn’t make a wish.

She just closed her eyes and thought, Please…not yet.

Then she blew them out.

Cheers erupted. Everyone clapped, and someone from the back yelled, “TWENTY-FIIIIIIIVE!” like it was the age of legend.

The party pressed on.

The house had gone quiet.

The party guests were gone. Empty champagne glasses littered the kitchen counter. Wrapping paper lay crumpled in a pile beside the couch. Her parents had already gone to bed in the guest room. Her assistants had gone back to their hotel after helping her change and unwind.

Now it was just Breana. Alone in her room. Back in her pajamas, her makeup wiped clean, her hair in a bonnet.

She sat cross-legged on the edge of her bed, staring out the window.

The moon hung heavy and silver above the city skyline. The sky was too still. Like the world was holding its breath again.

Her phone sat quietly beside her.

Breana exhaled, a hand resting on her knee. She hadn’t expected to have time to see Mary and Elias tonight, but it looked like she just might. Her fingers hovered above the screen, ready to text—

And then she looked out the window.

There they were.

The planets. Aligned.

It was stunning in a haunting kind of way. A string of bright pearls suspended in a velvet-black sky. She’d seen the predictions, the mockups, the TikToks claiming this was it —the moment the world would shift. And now…here it was. Real. Tangible. No turning back.

She wasn’t about to check any news headlines about the “effects” either. If she didn’t have powers, she would’ve dismissed all the online panic: memory loss, time displacement, emotional distortion… Like, girl please...

But as she's known ever since she was eighteen, nothing was impossible anymore.

And she was grateful— relieved, even—that the day had gone by without incident.

Until—

BrrrrrNNGGG—!!

A shrill, splitting hum cracked through her skull.

“Ah—!” Breana’s hands flew to her head. Her eyes slammed shut, her chest seized up, and her heartbeat started hammering like a war drum. The air shifted. Thickened. Her whole body trembled as the sky outside took on a strange glow—celestial, yes, but tinged with something uncanny. Ominous.

Her ears rang.

No— screamed.

The sound wasn’t normal. It wasn’t human. It wasn’t here. It was coming from…somewhere else. Inside?

She stumbled back from the window, breath hitching. She needed her intuition to say something , anything. But her mind was static. A broken signal.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Her knees buckled.

She hit the floor.

Gasping.

Eyes wide and unseeing.

Her powers stirred. Not gently. Not the way they usually did. This was violent. Chaotic. She felt her chest thrum like an amplifier as a soft bluish-purple light began to glow from beneath her skin.

“No—no, no, no—” she whispered.

She glanced down, trembling.

Her whole body was glowing now, pulsing brighter and brighter like a living beacon. Her fingers twitched. She couldn’t move her hands from her head. Couldn’t open a rift even if she wanted to. Her powers were acting on their own, building toward something she didn’t understand.

She needed something to anchor her.

Her phone. Her memories.

She forced her eyes open and spotted it—just out of reach, where she’d left it near the window.

“C’mon,” she rasped. “Please…”

She crawled—every muscle heavy, like moving through water. The light around her body swelled, warping the shadows in the room, distorting the walls just slightly like heat haze.

Her fingers brushed the phone.

She snatched it with a shaky hand and shoved it into her pants pocket. Her other hand scraped against the floor, trying to find grip to push herself up. She glanced toward her desk, where her laptop and notebook sat—pages of the notes she had taken earlier.

Too far.

No time.

The glow surged again, and the room vibrated softly like a low hum of thunder before a storm.

Breana staggered to her feet.

Fucking hell, why—

Breana didn’t even get to finish the thought.

Her mind went blank.

Still glowing, still trembling, her body began to lift. Slowly. Unnaturally. Her feet left the ground like she was weightless, suspended in a cocoon of pulsing violet-blue light.

Above her, the ceiling shimmered. Then— crack.

A rift opened.

Not one of her own.

This one wasn’t drawn by her hands, wasn’t triggered by her focus. It opened like it had a will of its own. It pulsed—once, twice—like a heartbeat, warping the ceiling into a glowing spiral of nothingness.

Then, just as suddenly, it snapped shut.

And Breana crashed to the floor.

Hard.

The air left her lungs in a harsh gasp as she landed, light still pouring from her body in surges.

She groaned, barely able to process what had just happened. A rift opened…without her? That wasn’t supposed to happen. Her power always needed her focus, her will. This felt like something—or someone—else had pulled the thread instead.

Then came the knocking.

Knock knock knock.

“Breana?” her mom called out, her voice tinged with concern. “Sweetheart, are you okay in there?”

Another knock. Firmer. Sharper.

“Breana?”

Then her father’s voice joined, worried and commanding.

“BREANA?!”

But Breana couldn’t answer. Her mouth opened, but no words came. Just a pained, breathless sound.

“Ah…”

She clutched her chest, shaking, drenched in sweat as the light from her skin flickered erratically.

Their voices faded.

Not because they stopped talking.

But because she was slipping.

Her eyelids grew heavy. Her limbs went numb. The sounds of her parents shouting became distant—like she was underwater, sinking deeper and deeper.

And then…

Silence.

Total, perfect silence.

Breana’s eyes fluttered shut.

That moment was the curtain call of her time in this chapter.

<Chapter 3 Chapter 5>

[newforever]

https://ift.tt/juYw1Pg Jusqu'au dernier Nøva // Null

[katuschka]

Just Once – 01

Chapter 01 – KIss from a Rose

Jake Kiszka x f!OC (friends to lovers) 2.350 words

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, intended for adult readers. Any resemblance to real persons is purely coincidental. Also, if you're under 18, go find some other entertainment elsewhere.

Warnings (are spoilers): not much YET, just some vague mentions of sex and desire, some alcohol consumtion and some emotional turmoil (you know me)

She's on my mind, ever out of reach But sometimes a word can be all that you need Like a postcard written in July At once, I know I know I know I know Where I long to be (Blanco White – Fish in the Reeds)

What is there not to love about summer festivals? Singing birds, fruity cocktails and all the new people who’ve never heard of you or your music, but who are nonetheless curious. Stage fright feels different here in front of this vast sea of cheerful and carefree humans who expect you to entertain and impress them, full of hope that you really will. And if you succeed, they're generous. They pay you back with thunderous exultation. 

What a way to make new fans under the clear blue sky! Honey could live off of that instant exhilaration for whole months after. 

That was one of the reasons why she truly loved summer fests, with all that light-hearted atmosphere and applause that always felt to be truly deserved. 

But not the only reason, no. She and Luke had written their first songs in their grandparents’ countryside house. Melodies always came to them naturally, like fresh air. Those were the beginnings, just the two of them with their strings and grandma’s lemonade. That was the cornerstone of the message they longed to share with anyone willing to listen. 

So it’s no surprise that even after all those years of perfecting their craft in studios and different venues with all the fancy gear and tech help, their music always sounded a bit different in the open air. Raw again. But better. And more ‘at home’. Sadly, there were not many other opportunities to play under the bright sun and let the tones be carried away by the breeze, as they grew out of pub gardens quite early on, and open amphitheatres they could headline were scarce. It seemed they were destined to stay in smaller clubs and theatres; the biggest venue they ever headlined held one thousand people. 

It was probably better that way, overall. They liked to keep it small, independent, genuine… If – by any weird chance – they grew bigger, she was sure she’d miss it. 

But oh those big summer fests, where their songs could really soar, while still remaining intimate in nature. That’s why Honey cherished these moments so much. 

And shout out to the backstage, too, where you could meet new people and feel like you were a part of something greater and fancier. A grand get-together of like-minded people.

Right? Well…

It was also a sneak peek into the world where people bathed in expensive whiskey and no one ever let you look into their eyes, always hiding behind shades of various shapes and sizes…

Yeah… who was she kidding. This “big” world often made Honey feel uneasy and not at all ‘at home’. There’s usually nothing fancy about the actual backstage area - just white tents and mobile trailers on hard asphalt. The cacophony of music, chatter and laughter can be welcoming at first, but it was always the same in the end. The longer Honey stayed, the more she felt like she didn't really belong despite the initial excitement. It could easily turn into a scary and off-putting place, unless you were big enough to feel like you ruled that place… or unless you made friends. And while Luke never had any problem with blending into the worldly crowd, Honey usually found herself standing on the outside looking in. 

This year’s Pink Pop was no different, except for the reason number three that was supposed to change it for her once again: Her sweet and shy companion, a rare friend she somehow managed to make, who once used to turn those festival days and nights into pure magic just with his casual presence and friendly company. 

Ever since 2018, when they were both still basically kids, even though they definitely wouldn’t admit it at the time.

He found her sitting under a tree one early evening, with her eyes closed and frowning, and asked her if she was ok. And Honey told him she was just trying to translate a birdsong she had been listening to into human lyrics, because she could already hear a brand new melody inside her head and felt a new story growing in her heart, and it made her want to sing it. Again. Like a dream that should be written down before it gets forgotten. 

It intrigued him. The whole place was far from quiet, and almost in the middle of all the hustle and ongoing parties, she chose the company of chirping birds. To her surprise, he sat down under that tree right next to her and stayed. They ended up talking about that yet to be heard tune until dawn, and then Jake made her promise him that she would write the song eventually. 

And Honey did. 

But at the same time, not exactly. Having long forgotten about the bird that had been her muse at first, Honey’s lyrics held a secret she’d been carrying within herself ever since that late spring night. The initial dream transformed into the shape for him. Because that’s all it was. 

Even though they had exchanged numbers, neither of them called or texted for months, until the song got released and all of the sudden she received a message. 

‘It’s more beautiful than you made me imagine.’ 

Yeah, because it is about what you made me feel after I confided in you, she thought but never typed back. Instead, she just thanked him politely, athough that was enough. And suddenly, Jake became real again, just when she started thinking that his number saved in her contacts was merely a result of a polite gesture after a long night spent listening to her babbling. Honey herself had never dared to reach out, even though she couldn’t stop thinking about him. 

Several more months passed until the days grew longer again and Jake made sure to find her as soon as they crossed their paths within the confines of yet another open celebration of music and life. He turned it into a tradition. 

Sometimes they just shared a quick smoke because there just wasn’t time, other times he could hang out with her for a little longer and once again they ended up talking for hours about chord progressions and about how the greatest music composer was Nature. Whether it was the bluesy heartbeat or mournful folky tunes that could be heard among rustling leaves, he understood where her passion came from, because he was no different. At least back then he wasn’t.  

Fast forward back to yet another safe spot under the trees, Honey took a sip from her Heineken and sighed. He was supposed to be here too this year, and as soon as Honey had found out about it, she started looking forward to the Pentecost weekend of 2026 as if it was Christmas. 

But as the date grew nearer, the anticipation was slowly, stealthily turning to anxiety, only to end up in disappointment. Now she was here, their own show ended two hours ago, and Jake was nowhere to be seen. And why should he, as Greta Van Fleet were supposed to play the next day. Because of her? He probably no longer cared. All of the sudden, Honey felt deflated… and angry with herself for having entertained that silly notion that it was still a thing. 

Back in the day, they were almost equal. Two enthusiastic kids thrown into this big world, both still full of wonder, humility and doubt. But while Luke and Honey stayed on side stages during daylight hours, Jake’s band grew to greet the sunset in front of the main crowd. 

The last time she saw him, some two years ago, something already seemed off. Onstage, he was magnificent. Confident and not just attractive as he had always been, but almost intimidatingly so. It tied her tongue when they finally saw each other in person a few hours later, because even though she would never openly admit it, Honey had a secret crush on Jake Kiszka from day one. 

She never acted on it; never knew how. Never for one second thought the feeling could be mutual. Talking to him had always been easy, even though she had secretly kept imagining more than that. Her fear of rejection prevented her from telling him. Or showing him. Sometimes their shoulders brushed, sometimes he held her hand while helping her stand up. But that was it. He used to shower her with smiles, but never anything more. Not interested in anything else but her musical mind. 

Which was enough – truly – until he gradually turned to one of those people with no eyes. He still smiled when he saw her, and pulled her into a hug, but to her it seemed to be just muscles contracting. She felt like she could no longer reach out to the person she once knew, who was now hiding somewhere behind his own sunglasses.  

Before they parted, Jake kissed her cheek and held her hands in his for maybe a bit longer than necessary, which made her hopeful again. For what, she couldn’t tell. 

Honey took the last gulp from the bottle and closed her eyes. Hopeful for a kiss, she thought. Just once. That’s what she always secretly wanted – to feel all of him. To taste all of him. Just once. 

Maybe not seeing him again was in fact a good thing. 

The sun wasn’t setting yet, but the colors over the horizon turned from steely blue to yellow-ish already. Jake tried to make his way through all those people who all wanted a word, but none of them really had anything worthwhile to say. He wouldn’t listen to anyone anyway, as his mind was still preoccupied with what she had been singing about. 

Lost in her own music, Honey hadn’t noticed him standing side stage, which was for the best. Knowing about her stage fright, Jake didn’t want to be one more reason for her to feel nervous. 

He hated the fact that there came a time when he started to make her feel nervous. How and why, he couldn’t tell, he could just sense that, and he couldn’t stand the fact. It should be the other way round. 

Ever since Jake first saw her, she mesmerized him with the poetic and otherworldly aura that surrounded her old soul. She spoke like a child about the things only the elders could know. 

Like Joni. Like Joan. Like a dreamed-of woman he always yearned to find. 

And when he finally did, she kept slipping from his weak hold like a gold fish that would never grant him his wish. Always there to talk about his musical ideas, always smiling, but when he tried to reach out and touch her, all he could feel was demure indifference. 

So many others waited in line to have a taste of him. Jake was but a man. Of course he let them, secretly hoping none of them would call out his name while he kept fucking their brains out because all he could think of was her. But they always did, and a few times he responded by moaning her nickname. Thankfully, anyone could pass for “honey”. Deep in his heart, no one could compare. No one else could see through his outer layer. No one else really wanted to. 

No one knew. 

Jake could just text her to ask her where she was, just like normal people do. But he wanted to surprise her, as always. He preferred it that way, so that when he finally spotted her in the crowd, and she saw him, he could search her face for genuine response. And every fucking time, just for a split second before she could compose herself, he believed it was there. 

Jake never understood why she always sat so slouched. Behind a microphone, she always turned to a goddess whose likeness should be carved in marble. 

Jake could imagine the immortal statue quite vividly. People would look at the stone cold white of her skin and wonder how she looked while she walked the earth. Only Jake would know – or, the cursed spirit of him would – that her hair was the color of wild honey and her pink lips begged to be kissed. 

Just not by him, apparently. 

It never stopped him from wanting to, though. 

Not even now, when he finally spotted her sitting on a folding table near the staff tents. The sun was still shining, but while it had painted her hair golden earlier while she had sung about love that existed only in young fools’ dreams, it made it look like flames now. They licked her shoulders and threatened to swallow her and turn her to ashes if he didn’t interfere…

Maybe it was a stupid idea, but he had been taught that men should do this. Josh had told him to try. And it didn’t have to mean anything, if she wouldn’t want it to. Just a heartfelt gesture. Yeah. Friends do that. He wanted to do that. Just once. 

If nothing else, he could finally be able to tell himself that he at least tried. 

 “I knew I’d find you here!” 

The sound of his voice made her heart skip a beat before she dared to open her eyes. She could also feel her lips stretch into an involuntary smile before she did. That one simple sentence held so many unspoken meanings, all of them unbelievable, all of them welcome. While she consciously refused to entertain the idea, the knot in the pit of her stomach betrayed her mind.

Honey took a deep breath and looked up. “I opened mine, so show me yo…,” she started before her breath hitched. She had said the exact same sentence in jest two years ago when he refused to take off his shades even after dusk. 

But he wasn’t wearing any now, and she fell right into the depths of his dark pupils. Or at least that’s how it felt. Not even a two year’s time had changed that. Before Honey could withdraw back into herself, her eyes fell on the bouquet of white roses he was holding. 

“Jake, what’s that?”

@thewritingbeforesunrise @fleet-of-fiction @writingcold @lvnterninthenight @its-interesting-van-kleep  @takenbythemadness  @edgingthedarkness @myownparadise96 @gvfstuddedmajesty @jazzyfigz @sanguinebats @josh-iamyour-mama @lyndz2names @wetkleenex-gvf @peaceloveunitygvf @cheersdannyx2 @fleetingjake @lizzys-sunflower @emojakekiszka @gvfmarge @Dayumclarizzel @lipstickitty @clownstarr @gretasfallingsky @musicislove3389 @i-love-gvf @psychedelectable @allof--mylove @sacredsparrow @scarabsinthestardust @Ironlotus90 @stardustsamm @irenereedcane-mamagreta

[neurodivergent-tech-week]

Neurodivergent Tech Week Promp Submissions are Open!

We are once again celebrating Neurodivergent Tech week at the end of July (July 27th - August 2nd) and I’m excited to announce that I’m ready to take prompt submissions.

Send them my way via asks! Anything involving Tech and neurodivergence is fair game. Your prompts can be SFW or NSFW, but remember that all NSFW prompts will exist under a community label so that only of-age (18+) users can view them.

Happy Disability Pride Month!

[davendorks]

have we ever thought about the fact that donald might not have WANTED kids?

i know i have “donald anti” in my intro post because i mean yeah i don’t like him because he’s annoying

but you have to think about the fact that HE didn’t even plan to adopt three random ass babies so young.

based off the math: Davenport claims to be 38 in Bionic Birthday Fail, and assuming the year is 2012 (and assuming Davenport is telling the truth), he was around 18 when he and Douglas started Davenport Industries.

Once they established the company, that’s when Douglas started making the kids. (Although there are many factors, i know davenport got them as babies but we don’t know for a fact how old they were or how long it took douglas to perfect genetic engineering after establishing the company it’s safe to assume the 18-38 gap is “right”.) Donald was just excited to have a company with his brother, but these kids (most likely when he’s freshly 20) were never in the picture to begin with.

We all remember the scene where he’s teaching them about how batteries are made, and yes i’ve said before that i didn’t like that because they are kids. but there’s also the fact that maybe he didn’t know what kids are like. he is a genius, tech is what he knows. he didn’t plan for these kids, he didn’t know what to do with them. he just knew they were his responsibility.

he’s even TOLD us this before.

“i’m more of a fun uncle than a school activity dad.”

yes, he’s shitty. he treated them like science projects because that’s what they were to him. they have tech IN them, they’re his responsibility.

when it came time for tasha and leo, based off what we do know of him, i’m not sure if this is a stretch but he might’ve wanted a fresh start with leo?

i only say this because there’s episodes like ‘Can I Borrow the Helicopter?’ where he’s EXCITED to do dad stuff with leo, he even gets too excited at points. then again, he still gets easily annoyed with leo and brushes him off when he’s doing something tech related.

it’s also kind of weird, even after leo got his bionics, he was still brushed off because he’s leo.

i’m sure i could do a lot better if i actually had time to write this out, it’s fourth of july 😭 i’ll write this out better if anybody really wants it sooo yes.

[yet-another-deanw-girl]

The Prophecy

Created with Microsoft Designer

She knew for 15 years that this day would come. She knew her destiny had already been written. That her death had been foretold.

She knew she would have to stop him. She knew she would have to kill him. And she thought she was prepared for all of it. But the day she met him she realized how wrong she was…

Set in Season 10

Pairing: MoC!Dean x Female!OC

Note: The events of this story are following season 10 of Supernatural and are taking place between October 2014 and July 2015. I tried to make sure that all the references to weapons, tech, etc. are accurate with the time period.

AN: This is my first time writing a fanfic but the story has been in my head for too long and it just needed to get out. I hope you like it.

AN: English is not my first language, I apologize for any mistakes.

Chapter 1: The girl and the werewolves Chapter 2: Protocol EG-64 initiated Chapter 3: The stand-off Chapter 4: The Order Chapter 5: So many questions, so little answers Chapter 6: A Girl Stuck in a Bunker Chapter 7: The Fates Chapter 8: Standing on Edge Chapter 9: Fairytales Chapter 10: Good Morning, Princess Chapter 11: The Mark, The Blade and The Scribe of God Chapter 12: I'm Not a Fucking Princess Chapter 13: Split Chapter 14: The Ghost and The Network Chapter 15: Just Turn It Off And On Again Chapter 16: Sweat It Out Chapter 17: Spilling truths between the lies Chapter 18: 33 Chapter 19: You again! Chapter 20: Games Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Chapter 38

_________

[nikethestatue]

It's funny to me that people are so offended by Feyre becoming a High Lady. As if it's such an abnormal, nepo, parasitic thing. She is too young! Too immature! Too this and too that.

First of all, yes, to all. And second of all, no, to everything.

Feyre married a King (essentially). She would naturally become a queen. At the very least, a Queen Consort. Think Queen Camilla. It's not a nepo thing (if anything, Cassian and Az are nepo brothers)--it's just how the title is shared between a husband and wife.

But, you may say, she is just a Lady! She is not a High Lady.

She is too young!

Well. Queen Isabella, who became the Queen of England, married King Richard II of England when she was 8 years old and he was 22 years her senior. "Young', when it comes to royal marriages, is in the eyes of the beholder. (For the record, don't worry, the marriage wasn't consummated.)

But let's talk about something a bit more recent. The fine gentlemen who became the Found Fathers of the US were mostly in their early 20s. Early. Like 21.

Ages of the Founding Fathers on July 4, 1776: James Monroe, 18 Aaron Burr, 20 Alexander Hamilton, 21 James Madison, 25 Thomas Jefferson, 33 John Adams, 40 Paul Revere, 41 George Washington, 44.

We tend to think of them as old guys, but they were basically college Freshmen and Sophomores.

Therefore, Feyre, technically, falls right in line with not just 'fantasy' books where everyone is 17, but also, history.

Feyre, also, has abundant powers, the likes of which no one has. Yes, she is learning 'on the job' but it doesn't mean that she can't do the job? Hey, I am not personally a fan, but if you look at all the huge tech companies that we all know now, those who found them and ran them were all in their early 20s. Mostly, all met in college. Frankly, their reach is way bigger than the Night Court's.

I know people hate Feyre and think she isn't ready for anything, but no one takes into consideration how short a period ACOTAR to ACOWAR is. A year? That's it.

Also, maybe, politically, Rhys is not too keen on leaving his Court to Keir, or Amren, should he die. Maybe, Feyre IS the best choice.