#Float Values checking

[durgeapologist]

i'll get back to solasposting soon enough but!! finding out that a blog you enjoyed in passing is actually rampantly anti-veilguard for the worst reasons and then having to block them because they have amped up their critical posting feels just like watching your favorite clothing store that you used to window shop in as a kid close and change into a propety management firm. disappointing and uninteresting and entirely lacking in rational thought regarding said decision to change.

[monstermp3]

🍀

[argumate]

So, reports of an unprecedented egg “shortage” are exaggerated. Nonetheless, egg prices — and egg company profits — have gone through the roof. Cal-Maine Foods — the largest egg producer and the only one that publishes its financial data as a publicly traded company — has been making more money than ever. It’s annual gross profits in the past three years have floated between 3 and 6 times what it used to earn before the avian flu epidemic started — breaking $1 billion for the first time in the company’s history. All of this extra profit is coming from higher selling prices, which have been earning Cal-Maine unprecedented 50-170 percent margins over farm production costs per dozen. Taking Cal-Maine as the “bellwether” for the industry’s largest firms — as people in the egg business do — we can be pretty confident that the other large egg producers are also raking in profits off the relatively small dip in egg production.

High persistent profits are an anomaly for the industry. Historically, egg producers have responded to avian flu epidemics—and the temporary rise in egg prices that often accompanies them—by quickly rebuilding and expanding their flocks of egg-laying hens. “Fowl plagues”—as these epidemics used to be called—have been with us since at least the 19th century. Most recently, large-scale avian flu epidemics hit egg farms in 2015 and 1983-1984. The egg industry responded to both of these destructive events by sprinting to rebuild and expand the egg-laying hen flock — something which checked price increases and ultimately made sure prices went back to pre-epidemic levels within a reasonable time.

As Cal-Maine Foods explained in its 2007 Annual Report: “In the past, during periods of high profitability, shell egg producers have tended to increase the number of layers in production with a resulting increase in the supply of shell eggs, which generally has caused a drop in shell egg prices until supply and demand return to balance.”

This time around, however, that’s not happening. Despite high profits, the egg industry has somehow maintained a stubborn deficit in egg production capacity. Hatcheries — the firms that supply hens to egg producers — have throttled the pipeline of hens instead of expanding it. According to the Egg Industry Center, the size of the flock of “parent” hens — the hens used by hatcheries to produce layer chicks for egg producers — plummeted from 3.1 million hens in 2021, to 2.9 million in 2022, to 2.5 million hens in 2023 and 2024.

Meanwhile, hatcheries have been hatching significantly fewer parent chicks to replace aging ones — nearly 380,000 (or 12 percent) fewer in 2022 compared to the year before, and even fewer parent chicks in 2023 and 2024 — leaving the parent flock older and more likely to produce eggs that fail to hatch. That could explain why, although hatcheries reported producing 125-200 million more fertilized eggs to the USDA in each of the last three years compared to 2021, the number of eggs they’ve placed in incubators and the number of chicks they’ve hatched from those eggs has either declined or stayed basically steady with 2021 levels in every year since.

As for egg producers themselves, you may be surprised to learn that they have added between 5 and 20 million fewer pullets to their farms in every one of the last three years than they did in 2021. As the USDA observed with some astonishment at the end of 2022, “producers—despite the record-high wholesale price [of eggs]—are taking a cautious approach to expanding production[.]” The following month, it pared down its table-egg production forecast for the entirety of 2023 on account of “the industry’s [persisting] cautious approach to expanding production.”

In other words, the only thing that the egg industry seems to have expanded in response to the avian flu epidemic is windfall profits — which have likely amounted to more than $15 billion since the epidemic began (judging by the increase in the value of annual egg production since 2022), and appear to have been spent primarily on stock buybacks, dividends, and acquisitions of rivals instead of rebuilding and expanding flocks. When an industry starts profiting more from *not* producing than from producing, it’s a sign that something isn’t right. It could be an innocent bottleneck. But when it lasts for three years on end with no relief in sight, it's usually a sign of something else that’s pervasive in America — monopolization.

As the coming installments in this series will detail, the fundamental problem in the egg supply chain today is the simple fact that every industry involved in turning an egg into a chicken and turning a chicken into an egg—from the breeders and hatcheries that create the hens to the producers who use the hens to make eggs—has been hijacked by one or two financier-backed corporations, with the incentives flipped from competing entities seeking to produce more eggs to an oligopoly trying to restrain the production of eggs.

On one end of the egg supply chain, you have two companies who control chicken genetics, the billionaire-owned Erich Wesjohann Group and the private-equity-backed Hendrix Genetics. Headquartered a short car trip apart in Cuxhaven, Germany, and Boxmeer, Netherlands, these private firms have systematically gained control over the supply of egg-laying hens to American producers over the past two decades by buying out or suppressing rivals and challengers. Today, no egg producer in this country can expand the number of hens in its flock — or even replace the hens it already has when they age out or die — without the cooperation of this duopoly. And, since the value of hens rises with the price of the eggs, when the price of eggs is high these two barons have a clear interest in keeping the supply of pullets to producers on a tight leash — so the high prices stick.

On the other end of the egg supply chain, you have the largest egg producer in the country and the world, Cal-Maine Foods.

Matt Stoller from his monopolisation/cartel report; something that has clicked recently is the way that business seeks to maximise profit margin over volume, which often leads to reducing production, brittle supply chains, high prices, and ultimately shortages.

in principle this isn't supposed to happen under capitalism, because someone earning high profit margins should be outcompeted by new entrants willing to earn slightly lower profit margins, until (in the perfect frictionless market) the rate of profit should be whittled down to the rate of risk free return (government interest rates?) plus epsilon (a little bit).

obviously this does happen in reality for a number of reasons, and the Problem of Profits is a fun question to dig into, but the problem of persistently high profits is a more concerning issue and appears to be growing across multiple industries.

antitrust law is supposed to prevent market concentration that leads to this outcome but has been toothless since the '90s, allowing dramatic consolidation across dozens of old industries (groceries, agriculture, pharmacies, television, newspapers) and of course new industries (tech giants).

government regulation often ends up favouring incumbents, but it seems that contractual arrangements between suppliers and industry bodies and buying agents to form tight cartels are a bigger problem: if egg prices are high you might think to start an egg farm, but you need to find someone who will sell you chickens and someone who will buy your eggs, when the industry is using every means at their disposal to cut off market access to new entrants.

and of course if you have access to the gargantuan amount of capital required to attempt a serious challenge to an established cartel, why exactly would you want to start a price war with them when you can instead find some other unprotected industry to buy up and establish a cartel of your own?

capitalism seems to have entered a phase of its development equivalent to WWI, where defensive operations by incumbents are more successful than offense by new ventures, keeping the battle lines frozen in place (presumably the soldiers dying in their millions would be workers and consumers in this analogy).

[technoxenoholic]

trying to move away from google sheets, but excel and libre office both lack the extremely basic "checkbox in/as a cell with a configurable data format" function that i NEED for like 90% of my spreadsheets. they both require dragging the checkboxes into place ON TOP of the spreadsheet (not IN the cell, you have to drag them over and resize/align them by hand!!!!) and setting up complex formulas and references so they actually DO ANYTHING, either one cell at a time or by using fucking MACROS to do it. AND YOU CAN'T SET WHAT THE CHECKED AND UNCHECKED VALUES EVEN ARE. i am full of hatred and loathing.

[lackadaisycats]

I’m obsessed with the Lackadaisy comics way of shading/colouring! Could you please give a tutorial of how you do that and what brushes you use?

Here's a sample I used for the Lackadaisy Essentials art book. About 98% of the time, I'm not using specialized brushes - just basic soft and hard-round brushes, with various opacities.

Digital scan of the establishing shot pencil drawing - I added some some grid lines on top to double check the 1-point perspective. I didn’t include the characters here because I knew I’d be using the art as a background for more than one panel in the comic.

Initial lighting pass - This was done almost entirely by burning shadow directly into the pencil art scan. This way, I preserve a lot of my pencil lines (rather than painting over them) and the grain of the paper remains in play. This helps retain a sort of aged, natural media look despite the largely digital nature of it.

Contrast and brightness adjustments - Here I hand-painted more minute details into the rug, decor and fixtures with small diameter round brushes. I drew a wallpaper pattern on a separate canvas, then applied it as an overlay layer here too. And, of course, the characters arrived as raw pencils on new layers.

Character compositing and color wash - I didn't want to go fully monochrome with the colors, but I also didn't want to treat this like a full color digital painting. Instead, I opted for something resembling a warm-to- cool wash, achieved with a color layer on top of the grayscale base. Young Mordecai and Rose were toned to match the scene with a combination of burning, dodging and painting.

Lighting effects and atmosphere - Overlay layers can be used to push warm values into a much more saturated, vibrant place than a color layer alone can manage, and that's what I did here to create the streaming sunlight. I used a screen layer to include overexposure on bright colored elements as well. Floating dust motes in the light were added for atmosphere, and I polished the characters up with their own color and overlay layers to match the scene.

There's another, older process breakdown here on the Lackadaisy web site too, if you want more information.

[svckmyballzfr]

“I Know it’s over” Yandere Batfam x Neglected Maki Zenin!reader

Prologue - “The clan” chapter 1 , chapter 2 TW|Death, neglect

you grew up in a clan, the Zenin clan. You had a sister that was given with the ability to see curses, you weren’t. You promised your twin sister you wouldn’t leave her no matter what even when the clan didn’t want you. What a liar you are.

Sun was setting and the clouds floated in the sky gently as if it were the sea and the shore. “Mai!! What’s the matter with you? Let’s go! Hurry up.” Small [name] said with her cheeks puffed as she turned to her little sister that was on top of the stairs.

“I’m afraid” Mai soft shy voiced replies

“Afraid of what?” Small [name] asked confused

“it’s them…” Mai puts her hands together

“Again?” Small [name] sighed and puts her hands on her hips looking down

“Alright I’ll help you out.”

The curse on top of the street light began to speak gibberish scaring the other sister.

[name] walks up the stairs and stops in front of her little sister “come one just close your eyes” [name] grabs her sister hand and runs with her down the steps and they continue to run on the brick street floors.

“If you can’t see them then it’s like they’re not even there.” [name] says as her sister makes a small noise while keeping her eyes shut letting her older sister guided her.

“Big sister don’t let go

“I won’t let go”

”you never will?”

“Jeez, give it a rest”

“You’ll never leave me behind?”

“Of course I won’t! After all we’re sisters.”

What a liar.

“Momma?” Small [name] shakes her mother’s body as Mai’s cries were cancelled out in her head in the background.

“Momma wake up.” some years later the small sisters were now in the care of the Zenin clan.

The Zenin Clan embodies the problematic values that arose from the noble status granted to them as a major clan. The Zenin clan values powerful cursed techniques above all else and rejects their own family members if they don't deem their power acceptable.

[name] was forced to work harder than her sister in order the please the clan with sadly didn’t work. No matter how much her small body worked for the clan she was always rejected and seen as a mistake.

One day [name] was called by the higher ups with of course her little sister following suit.

“[Name] Zenin?” “Yes.”

“Age?”

“11 years old”

“Well you are now no longer a Zenin anymore. You’ll be leaving soon to go to America.”

“Excuse me?”

[name] was soon sent out the room with Mai.

“Big sis y-you aren’t leaving me are you?”

“of course not Mai. I won’t leave you. No matter what these old farts say.”

Mai looks down and fidgets with her fingers.

“A-are you sure?”

“Yes I’m sure Mai.”

[name] walks and her geta’s clicked on the wooden floor and Mai follows suite.

<Some hours later>

[name] was now on a plane and she looks out the window with a frown.

“NO DON’T LEAVE ME [name] YOU PROMISED YOU WOULDN’T LEAVE ME! YOU’RE SUCH A LIAR!”

[name] only looks back at her sister as some members from the clan held her back as tears runs down her face.

“I’m sorry.”

[name] only sighed as she laid her head back in her seat.

When [name] arrived to the airport at Gotham City and there was a detective waiting for her.

“[name] right?” The man with the grey beard asked and [name] only stared at him.

“Not much of a talker huh?”

….

“Well I’m detective Gordon. You’ll be uh at my police station for a little while some people will check your blood…Uh do you know what I’m saying or..”

[name] knew what he was saying since she had learned some English in Japan but she chose to be quiet since she was kind of shy.

“Ok…” [name] said looking down.

“Good. Let’s go.”

She was then driven to the police station to stay for a little and her blood got tested and She was related to Bruce Wayne???

[name] had heard of him back in Japan but she never really paid that much attention to him but she knew her mother and him had a relationship.

“Mai and [name] look! That’s someone important to you two” Their mother said while cutting the twins hair.

The Tv played a broadcast of a gala in America. Gotham.

There he was. The billionaire Bruce Wayne.

[name] attention was soon distracted when Mai had begun to wipe her snot on her.

“Eh!” [name] hit her with her chubby baby hand and Mai soon cried.

“[Name] what did I tell you about hitting your sister.”

[Name] smiled a bit to know that the man known for adopting children and loving them as his own was her father. She was both relieved and delighted but still sad that Mai wasn’t here with her.

‘This is so cool Mai..our dad is Bruce Wayne…don’t worry I’ll see you again.”

Child services had picked her up and dropped her in front of the manor.

‘I’m so nervous…I wish Mai was here so I can be more brave.’

But when she went inside her hopefully expression was soon dropped when she was met with a hidden annoyed expression by the famous man himself. Bruce Wayne.

The face that the members of the clan would give her when she would see them pass.

The expression that made her wish she died instead of her mother.

[oaksgrove]

The Best-Kept Secret.

Pairing: Platonic!Task Force 141 x married!Reader

Synopsis: The team always thought you were an enigma—a shadow on and off the field, a soldier with no loose ends. Until a mission in Switzerland leads them to an unexpected discovery: you’re not just seeing someone. You’re married. And while they’ve spent years in combat, dodging bullets and chasing warlords, you’ve been coming home to a soft-spoken bookstore owner who reads you poetry and kisses your forehead. Now, Soap is spiraling, Gaz is amused, Ghost is quietly impressed, and Price is—well, Price already knew, didn’t he?

Warnings: Found family fluff, ridiculous levels of espionage for something completely unnecessary, Soap in emotional distress, Price being the wise dad, and Elias being disgustingly romantic.

Word Count: 2512

The mission in Switzerland had been a success. A long, grueling success, but a success nonetheless. The team was tired, ready to return to base, but as they walked through the crisp, cold streets of a quiet Swiss town,something about you was different.

You weren’t trudging along like the rest of them.

No.

You were practically floating.

You shrugged a little too casually. “Just gonna swing by an old friend’s place. Haven’t seen ‘em in years.”

Price’s sharp gaze flicked to you. Ghost barely tilted his head, but you could feel his stare.

“An old friend, huh?” Gaz asked, crossing his arms.

Price hummed, unimpressed. “That so?”

“Yep,” you said too quickly. “Won’t be long.”

Gaz watched as you adjusted your gloves, the tiny, barely-contained excitement in your movements betraying you. He glanced at Ghost, who tilted his head ever so slightly. They all knew you weren’t lying, not really—but you were definitely hiding something.

You weren’t reckless. You weren’t prone to wandering off alone after missions. And more importantly, you weren’t good at masking excitement.

So, naturally, the boys followed you.

“We’re not seriously doin’ this,” Gaz whispered as they tailed you through the quiet streets.

“Oh, we absolutely are,” Soap shot back, ducking behind a parked car.

Ghost sighed, but he was still here, wasn’t he?

Price—who should have been above this nonsense—was also present, watching you with the kind of intrigue usually reserved for high-value targets.

They kept their distance, moving like shadows through the quiet streets, watching as you walked—not with the usual alertness of a soldier, but with an uncharacteristic lightness. Your shoulders were loose, your pace unhurried, and there was something about your expression—

A smile.

A real one. Not the usual smirk, not the practiced mask you wore in the field, but something soft and genuine, capable of lighting up the entire street.

Soap actually stumbled at the sight. “Bloody hell. She’s glowing.”

Gaz nudged him. “Keep your voice down. She’s happy about something.” noting the bounce in your step, the way you didn’t check your surroundings like you normally would. You weren’t scanning for threats, weren’t walking with the stiff alertness of a soldier.

You looked… soft.

Gaz squinted. “She’s giddy.”

Price stroked his beard, thoughtful. Ghost remained silent, though his eyes tracked every movement.

Then, you stopped.

At a bakery.

The team exchanged confused glances as they watched you step inside, the shop’s warmth fogging up the glass. A few moments later, you emerged with a small paper bag and two hot chocolates. 

Soap narrowed his eyes. “Two?”

Gaz raised an eyebrow. “Why two?”

Price stroked his beard. Ghost tilted his head.

And then, they watched as you walked—still smiling, still oblivious to the four highly-trained operators tailing you. 

Your pace was slow, relaxed, happy. Like you had all the time in the world. Like you were walking toward something you wanted. 

Price had muttered, “She’s meeting someone important.”

And then…

The bookstore.

The moment you reached the door, something shifted.

Soap squinted. “Hold on. Why is it closed?”

The bookstore was dark, the Closed sign hanging in the window. No other customers inside.

And yet—

When you knocked, the door unlocked almost instantly.

A man let you in, smiling as if he’d been waiting just for you.

Tall, dark-haired, charming beard, handsome in a way that wasn’t loud, but deeply noticeable. His glasses sat low on his nose, like he’d been reading before you arrived.

And the moment he saw you, his entire posture softened.

The tension in his shoulders melted, his lips twitching into a familiar smile.

He kissed your forehead, then your cheek.

And the team lost their collective minds.

You handed him the hot chocolate, your own smile bright and warm. He kissed the back of your hand before leading you inside.

Gaz made a choking noise. “She knocked.”

Soap ran a hand down his face. “He closed the whole damn store for her?”

Ghost tilted his head. “It’s… romantic.”

Soap shot him a betrayed look. “Not helping.”

Inside, the two of you walked past the counter, weaving between bookshelves like you’d done it a hundred times before.

He guided you to a corner booth near the window. You were curled into his side, head resting against his chest, the two of you pressed together in that way people do when they don’t even realize they’re gravitating toward each other.

The man picked up a book he had been reading, flipping it open.

Then, as if this whole thing wasn’t already a slap in the face, he started reading to you. 

Like you had never left.

Like this was a routine.

Like he had been waiting for you to come home.

And you let him.

His voice was low and warm as he murmured something in your ear, making you laugh softly. You nudged him in mock protest, but your eyes shone with affection. And without even breaking conversation, he broke off a piece of your pastry and held it up to your lips.

And you ate it without hesitation.

Didn’t grab it. Didn’t protest. Just let him feed you.

Ghost muttered, “She’s so in love, it’s bizarre.”

“She lied to us.” Soap muttered, pacing. 

“She didn’t lie,” Gaz reasoned. “She just… omitted small details.”

Ghost crossed his arms. “She omitted a whole man.”

Price pinched the bridge of his nose. “Alright, let’s leave her be.”

Soap whipped around. “Are you joking? After all the mystery? After all the secrecy? And it turns out she’s—what? In love?”

Gaz smirked. “It’s kinda sweet, actually.”

Soap gestured wildly toward the bookshop. “Sweet? SWEET? She’s been sneaking off to a romance novel!” 

Ghost’s eyes narrowed. “Wait.”

They all turned back toward the window just in time to see it.

And then—The man reached for the chain around his neck.

Soap squinted. “What’s he doing?”

The man—your husband, they were realizing—slid a ring from the necklace and onto your finger.

Like he had done this before.

Like it had always belonged there.

Ghost exhaled. “Oh.”

Soap made a strangled noise. “No.”

Gaz physically grabbed his arm before he could storm the building. “Mate. Don’t.”

Inside, you ran your fingers over the edge of your ring, smiling softly as he kissed your temple.

This wasn’t new.

This was familiar.

This was home.

Soap put his hands on his knees, trying to breathe. “She’s been married this whole time?”

Gaz leaned back, hands on his hips. “Well, shit.”

Price muttered, “How long?” like a man trying to process an entire alternate reality.

Soap was glaring at nothing. “We’ve been working with her for years. You’re telling me she’s been married this entire time?”

Ghost hummed. “Apparently.”

Soap pointed accusingly at the window. “She doesn’t even wear a ring on duty!”

“Yeah,” Ghost said dryly. “Because she didn’t want us to know.”

They watched as you laughed again, head tilting back slightly as your husband—your actual, literal husband—gently nudged your nose with his.

It was the kind of touch that wasn’t just casual.

It was muscle memory.

Gaz exhaled. “That’s real.”

Soap groaned. “I need to sit down.”

Ghost slapped his shoulder. “You’re already sitting.”

Soap groaned louder.

For a moment, none of them spoke.

The weight of it all settled in, each man processing the absolute bombshell you had just unknowingly dropped on them.

You, the enigma of Task Force 141.

You, who had kept your past tightly locked away.

You, who never shared too much about your personal life.

And yet—here you were, sitting in a small bookstore in Switzerland, drinking hot chocolate with a man who so clearly knew every piece of you.

Price sighed, finally standing straight. “Alright.”

Gaz looked at him. “Alright?”

Price glanced back at the window, then at his team. “She’ll tell us when she’s ready.”

Soap made a furious noise. “You’re just fine with this?”

Price gave him a look. The Captain look. “What exactly are you upset about, Johnny? That she didn’t tell us, or that she’s happy?”

Soap opened his mouth—paused—then closed it.

Gaz smirked. “Damn.”

Ghost, still watching you, nodded once. “If it was anyone else, I’d be concerned.”

Soap huffed. “He better be worth it.”

Ghost tilted his head. “Seems like he is.”

Inside, you ran your fingers over the edge of your ring, eyes soft as your husband kissed your temple.

Price exhaled. “Come on. Let’s give them their moment.”

And though Soap grumbled the whole way back, he didn’t argue.

Not this time.

Because despite the shock, the secrecy, and the absolute mindfuck of it all, you deserved this and none of them were about to ruin it.

The evening stretched on inside the small bookstore, wrapped in the kind of warmth that had nothing to do with the heater humming softly in the corner. The cold outside felt like a distant memory, replaced by the cozy cocoon of soft lighting, the faint scent of old paper, and the gentle hum of Elias’s voice as he read aloud from a worn book, his fingers tracing idle patterns against the back of your hand.

The world beyond those four walls didn’t exist. Not the mission, not the war, not the team you knew were drinking in some pub outside.

Just him.

Your husband.

Eventually, reality crept back in—the faint awareness that time was slipping away.

You sighed, your fingers tightening around his. “I should go.”

Elias closed the book gently, setting it aside without breaking eye contact. “Already?”

The disappointment in his voice was soft but unmistakable, a subtle ache beneath the warmth. He reached out, cupping your face in his large hand, his thumb brushing softly along your cheekbone.

“You just got here,” he whispered, his brow furrowing slightly as he studied your face like he was trying to memorize every detail.

You leaned into his touch, closing your eyes for a brief moment, letting the comfort of him sink in. “I know.”

Elias’s other hand found your waist, pulling you gently closer until you were tucked into his chest, his bearded chin resting atop your head. His embrace was all-consuming, his arms wrapped around you like a shield, like he could hold back the world if he just squeezed tightly enough.

“You’ll be careful?” he murmured against your hair, his voice low and rough with emotion.

You smiled softly against his chest. “Always.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes warm and full of a quiet, fierce love. “I don’t care how good you are out there,” he whispered, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip, “just… come back to me.”

Your heart twisted, the words threading through you like a quiet plea. You reached up, cradling his face between your hands, your fingers brushing through the soft edges of his beard.

“I always do,” you whispered back.

And then he kissed you—slow and unhurried, like he had all the time in the world, like the world outside didn’t exist. His hands framed your face, gentle despite their size, grounding you in a way nothing else ever could.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and reluctant, he pressed one last kiss to your forehead, lingering there for a heartbeat longer than necessary.

You slipped the ring off your finger, threading it back onto the chain around his neck. It felt like a promise—silent but understood.

He caught your hand before you could step back, pressing a kiss to your knuckles, his lips lingering as if letting go was the hardest thing in the world.

You smiled softly. “I’ll see you soon.”

His reply was simple but full of weight. “I’ll be here.”

With one last glance, you turned and left, the cold air biting at your face as the door shut softly behind you.

You barely made it through the door before chaos descended.

They knew everything.

Elias Schneider. Bookstore owner. Former Professor. Linguist.

Gaz held up the Google search results like a declassified CIA file. “Big on philosophy and poetry.”

Soap snatched the phone. “So you’re telling me—while we’ve been getting shot at, crawling through mud, dodging missiles—she’s been coming home to some soft-spoken bookstore bloke who reads her poetry?”

Ghost hummed. “Explains the forehead kisses.”

Price exhaled. “Christ. That explains a lot.”

The moment your boots hit the threshold, all four of them were waiting—Soap leaning against the table with his arms crossed, Gaz perched on the arm of the couch, Ghost standing silently in the corner, and Price sitting with that annoyingly calm expression, like he’d been expecting this moment all along.

You didn’t even have time to take off your coat.

“Well,” Soap started, his eyes narrowing as he straightened up, “have a nice visit with your old friend?”

You paused mid-step, arching a brow. “Really?”

Gaz grinned. “Oh yeah. We’re doing this.”

You sighed, letting your bag drop with a soft thud. “You followed me.”

Soap didn’t even try to deny it. “Of course we did! You think we wouldn’t notice you floating down the street like you were starring in some bloody Hallmark movie?”

Price leaned back slightly, arms crossed. “You were glowing.”

Ghost remained silent, but the tilt of his head spoke volumes.

You shrugged out of your coat slowly, pretending to be unbothered, even as heat crept up your neck. “I wasn’t glowing.”

Gaz snorted. “Mate, you were a walking Lifetime christmas movie advertisement.”

Soap pushed off the table, pacing dramatically. “And the pastries! Two hot chocolates with little hearts on the cups? Little hearts, for Christ’s sake!”

You rolled your eyes. “So? Maybe I was just—”

“Oh, don’t even start,” Soap cut in, pointing an accusatory finger. “We saw you. In the bookstore. With the giant.”

Gaz chimed in, grinning like he’d won the lottery. “You kissed him.”

Ghost finally spoke, his voice low and even. “And the ring.”

The room went quiet for a beat.

You sighed, running a hand down your face. “Unbelievable.”

Soap’s eyes narrowed. “How long?”

You crossed your arms, refusing to give them the satisfaction of seeing you flustered. “None of your business.”

“Oh, it’s very much our business now,” Gaz said, leaning forward with a smirk. “You’ve been married this whole time?”

Price, still calm but clearly amused, added, “We’re just curious. For… team cohesion.”

You groaned, shaking your head. “You’re all insufferable.”

Soap grinned. “But you love us.”

You didn’t answer, but the faint smile tugging at the corner of your mouth was enough.

Price finally stood, patting your shoulder as he passed. “He seems like a good man.”

You paused, glancing at him. “He is.”

And for once, the room settled—no more teasing, no more interrogation. Just a quiet understanding.

But not for long.

“Wait,” Soap blurted out suddenly, turning back to you. “Does he read to you?”

You groaned. “I’m leaving.”

And as you disappeared down the hall, their laughter echoed behind you, filling the safe house with a warmth that had nothing to do with the heat.

[rainrot4me]

First the compliment: your writing is much better than mine when i was at your age, props for writing creepypasta hcs like YOU imagine them while still making it feel like it could absolutely pass off as canon/in character. Thats some talent right there.

Can i request the creeps with a reader that tends to escapism/ suffers from maladaptive daydreaming? Thanks in advance!

Thank you so much!!! As someone who uses daydreaming to get away from the hectic cycle of life, this was very fun to do :)

── .✦

✦ . jeff the killer

At first? Jeff’s annoyed.

“Earth to space cadet,” he snaps after the third time you don’t respond when he calls your name. Jeff has always been a face-value guy, so it’s hard to understand why someone he wants to talk to doesn’t always want to talk to him. But eventually, he realizes it’s not disrespect, it’s protection.

And after a while, he starts watching you during those dissociative moments, leaning in close, not to scold, but to anchor you. “Hey,” he murmurs, voice unusually soft. “Where’d you go just now?” He wants to know where and what it is that takes you away, what makes that other place so much better than where he is?

Sometimes he’ll jokingly insert himself into your fantasy, “If you’re gonna vanish, at least imagine me shirtless and feeding you grapes or something.”

But other times, when he sees how hard you’re clinging to your daydreams, his voice gets quieter. “You don’t have to run up there anymore,” he says, brushing your hair back. “You got me now. Let me be your somewhere else.”

✦ . ticci toby

Toby understands.

God, does he understand. Dissociation, checking out, needing the dream version of life just to make it through the real one? That’s been his whole survival method. He doesn’t interrupt your spells, he just sits with you, quietly. Maybe fidgets with your hands or hums under his breath so you know he’s still here.

When you come back around, he doesn’t push. Just gently says, “You drifted again… You okay?”

If you let him, he’ll join you in your mental escape. “What’s it like in your head? Ca-Can I come too?” He wants to build you a safe world outside your mind, even if it’s messy and full of shadows, he just wants you to feel safe inside and outside of your head.

“I’ll be your anchor, if you want,” he says once. “Just tug on me when you need to come back.”

✦ . eyeless jack

Jack takes a clinical interest at first, but it turns personal fast.

He notices the signs—the unfocused stare, the half-listening answers when he asks you questions, the barely-there smile like you’re living in a different timeline. “You’re retreating,” he says one evening, gently. “It’s a protective response.” It’s more like he’s evaluating exactly why more than letting you know.

But instead of shaming you, he asks questions. “What does it look like, in there? Are you safer there? Happier?” He’s not offended, but he does want to know why your mind works the way it does without feeling like it’s an interrogation. He’s happy when you let him into your personal space.

Over time, he starts helping you ground—hand on your thigh, blanket over your shoulders, little sensory tethers that ease you back to him without abruptly dragging you from your headspace.

“You don’t have to leave to feel okay,” he tells you. “Let’s make the real world something worth staying in.”

✦ . masky (tim wright)

Tim has no patience for it at first.

He’s from a world where zoning out gets you killed. “Stop checking out,” he growls during a heated moment. “You can’t afford to float off.” But then he sees the aftermath, the guilt in your eyes, the way you cling to your sleeves like they can shield you.

And suddenly, he sees himself in you. He sees that scared man who was being ripped apart at the edges by some horrifying force out to get him. It hits him like a guilt-filled truck.

Next time, when you space out, he doesn’t snap. He sits next to you in silence, lights a cigarette, and murmurs, “It’s not real, whatever’s happening in there… but I get it. Sometimes you just need out.”

He’ll stay for as long as you’re gone, making sure that nothing and nobody bothers you. He’s protective, so when someone he cares about is vulnerable, he’s sure to have their back. Eventually, he’ll nudge you gently. “Come back. I miss you when you go.”

✦ . hoody (brian thomas)

Brian recognizes the signs immediately.

He’s been there—lost in thought, lost in nightmares, lost in anywhere-but-here. He never interrupts harshly. Instead, he waits for you to return, then meets your eyes behind his mask. “You were somewhere else again,” he’ll say calmly. “Did it help?”

Sometimes, he sits beside you and just says nothing, letting you wander mentally while he holds your hand. He’ll build rituals to ground you—soft touches, steady sounds, warmth.

He doesn’t force you to stop escaping, but he does give you something to escape to instead of from. If it’s silence you want, he’ll offer that, but if it’s noise and activity, he’ll offer that too.

“When you need to drift,” he says, “make me part of the dream. I’ll keep you safe in there.”

✦ . kate the chaser

Kate’s response is quiet at first.

She sees you drifting off and doesn’t call attention to it, just places a hand on your arm and keeps it there until your eyes clear. There’s no need to rush anything, she’ll take all the time she needs to bring you back. She feels honored that you feel comfortable enough around her to zone off.

But one day, after a long silence, she speaks, “I used to do that too. Escape—into stories, into people, into a version of me who didn’t have to fight so hard.”

She doesn’t try to fix you. But she will make sure you’re okay. “You don’t have to explain where you went. Just… come back when you’re ready. I’ll still be here.”

Eventually, she starts narrating things to help keep you present. She knows it’s easy for you to slip away, so she wants to make sure you’re always being attended to. “We’re in the woods. It’s dusk. You’re holding my hand. We’re walking back to the mansion.” Because with Kate, she makes sure you are never forgotten.

✦ . ben drowned

Ben lives in fantasy.

He’s half code, half memory, always just slightly unreal. So when he finds out you’re a dreamer too? He lights up. “Finally,” he says, half-grinning. “Someone who gets it.”

He’ll ask you about your worlds, your characters, your imagined futures. He wants to play there with you—build kingdoms, bend the rules, dream impossible dreams.

But when it becomes too much, when you start forgetting to eat or sleep, he gently reins you in. “I know it’s beautiful in your head,” he murmurs, fingers brushing your cheek. “But you’re beautiful out here, too. I need you with me.”

He enjoys spending time with you, inside your head or out, but there’s no way he’s going to let you ruin yourself. “…Besides, you’re way cuter in person.”

✦ . clockwork

Natalie notices the disconnect, but she doesn’t get angry.

Instead, she plants her palm against your chest and says, “Hey. You still in there?” If you don’t respond, she waits. And when you do, she doesn’t make you explain yourself. She’s patient. Fierce, but patient.

“You’re not weak,” she says. “You’re surviving however you can. I respect that.” She becomes oddly motivating and supportive.

But she’ll challenge you when the daydreams start taking over your real life. “Tell me what your dream self has that you don’t. Go on. I’ll wait.” Because she wants to help you become that person—here. Now. With her.

“I’ll fight the world for you,” she says, gripping your hand. “But you gotta stay present enough to fight it too.”

✦ . laughing jack

Jack is fascinated.

“You escape into fantasy?” he says, tilting his head like a raven. “What’s so wrong with this twisted little circus we call life?” Jack is a being of the dreamworld himself, but that’s a control tactic, something he uses to lure victims and churn feelings, not an escape.

But then he sees how much pain you’re hiding, how deeply you need the dream world. And strangely, something shifts in him. “Fine,” he says. “Then I’ll make the real world just as colorful. Let’s paint the walls with glitter and scream at the moon. Let’s make this place worth living in.”

He pulls you out of your fugue states with humor, with chaos, with surprise. But always with a touch of care. Whenever you slip, he’ll make sure to lure you back with the sweet smell of baked goods or the wonderful sensation of a dryer-warmed blanket, anything to bring you back to him.

“You don’t have to go to Wonderland, darling. I’ll bring Wonderland to you.”

✦ . slenderman

Slender is eerily in tune with your disassociation.

He can feel when your presence flickers. He doesn’t speak, but his tendrils will coil protectively around you. He grounds you with texture, sensation, pressure, drawing you back into your body.

When you return, he gently cups your face in his clawed hands. “Your mind is a vast, haunted forest,” his voice echoes. “But even the wildest forests need a path home.”

He never demands you stop dreaming. But he offers reality as something beautiful, terrifying, and shared. He understands slipping away for a while, but he’ll always make sure to stick close to keep a watchful eye over you. Nobody is allowed near, at least not until you’re back again.

“If you must wander,” he says, “let me walk with you.”

꩜ .ᐟ

[queenperri]

Happy 2 Year Anniversary!!!

This lovely little guy stems from @angelpuns Kid-Leo au! This illustration was made in Blender 3d and it was a lot of fun modeling Kid-Leo into 3d glory!

Behind the scenes under the cut:

Everything starts with a sketch and for me I had two options;

It was hard choosing which one; but I ultimately went with the one on the right as I felt like the posing would be a lot more fun to play around with in 3d!

Speaking of 3d; check the viewport view!

Yup; this is what it looks like before I add all the fun textures and what not. For my fellow blender nerds the final image was rendered in cycles at a sample of 500 with denoise OFF. I wanted the final vibe to feel like a game magazine so I like to render with the intention of having that dithering effect prepacked in there.

Tasty right? Well; you can't have Kid Leo without some stars to fill the void! After making my initial model I used particle systems to add floating stars and cookies that I modeled into the background. I especially love how the stars distort within the glass texture of Leo's tears :3

The blue background is simply a giant cube with a volumetric scatter shader to simulate fog; This part is what gave me the most trouble as I'm so indecisive that I didn't know what blues to go with! Eventually I settled for a darker blue as it really helped Leo's green skin POP. When it comes to art I always pay close attention to values.

Finally I pulled this baby into clip studio paint for the final touches; aka chromatic aberration and giving it a viewfinder border and then WABAM!

You've got yourself a Kid Leo.

This was a lot of fun. I've been making illustrations in Blender for a hot minute now but haven't shared or posted them due to wanting to make posts like this one explaining everything I did. That May 20th deadline really kicked my butt into high gear. In total I'd say I put about 10 hours of worktime into this; starting the day this dtiys was announced. Getting this done was all I could think about for a hot minute lol.

Final thoughts? This comic has been a real joy to follow and I can't wait to see what happens next. It's been so cool seeing how much the comics art has improved since the beginning and I really admire the dedication to giving us a Leo-centric story to enjoy. Here's to the next chapter!

[sh4nksslvt]

hello! I saw some of your posts and was wondering if u could wright something with sanji from one piece where the reader is also a chef? Like escoffier from genshin impact. But like she has the same looks and vibe cause I was looking at her trailer or something and she only scolded the male cooks when they did bad and I LOVED that PLEASEE try to make this! Established relationship pls, thank u!

this sounds nice! im not quite familiar w the charac mentioned, tho i looked her up, soo its not much but hope u enjoy this!

Fire in the Kitchen, Heart on the Line

Being in love with a fellow perfectionist chef isn’t always easy—especially when your kitchen becomes a battlefield. But with enough butter, banter, and a little love, Sanji and his fiery girlfriend might just make it through the heat.

sanji x Escoffier!reader | ONE SHOT tags: fluff, sfw, soft romance, ooc(?) a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only, so expect this ff a bit cringe, akward, and confusing word count: 1k

masterlist | ko-fi

: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊

The kitchen on the Thousand Sunny was unusually quiet—until a sharp clatter echoed off the walls.

“You call that a brunoise?” your voice rang, sharp as a blade slicing through bone.

Usopp flinched, the knife slipping out of his hand. “I—I was just—”

“No excuses. These cubes are uneven enough to offend geometry itself.” You folded your arms, pristine gloves still white despite the chaos around you. “Throw it out and start again.”

Zoro, seated at the table with a skewer half-loaded with meat, muttered under his breath, “It’s a miracle you two haven’t killed each other in that kitchen yet.”

Sanji entered just then, whistling cheerfully, a towel slung over his shoulder. The moment he caught sight of you—your meticulously tied hair, that commanding glare you reserved only for the incompetent male cooks on board—his eyes lit up with hearts, and his feet nearly floated off the ground.

“Ma chérie~!” he sang, sliding behind you and planting a kiss on your cheek before dodging the spatula you halfheartedly lifted to swat him.

“Sanji,” you said in your signature calm-but-deadly tone, “I told you not to interfere when I’m teaching.”

“I’m not interfering, my love~ I’m admiring.”

“You’re lucky I like you,” you muttered, finally allowing the smile that had been threatening your lips to peek through. “Now get Usopp another carrot before I use his nose as a cutting board.”

“Right away~ Goddess of Gastronomy!” he said, twirling toward the pantry.

You sighed, pressing two fingers to your temple. Life aboard the Sunny was nothing if not chaotic.

And Sanji? He was the eye of your storm, and somehow the hurricane too.

It had been four months since you and Sanji had made your relationship official—not that the rest of the crew hadn’t seen it coming. From the moment you stepped aboard the Sunny, knives flashing and heels clicking like war drums, you and Sanji had danced around each other like rival chefs in a culinary showdown.

Your reputation had preceded you. Known in the South Blue as "Escoffier" your dishes were renowned for their flawless precision, complex flavor pairings, and an almost terrifying level of discipline. Especially toward men. Male chefs, in particular, bore the brunt of your cutting critiques. You didn’t hold back—and you certainly didn’t tolerate mediocrity.

But Sanji? He was different. He matched you plate for plate, idea for idea. And beneath all his dramatic fawning and over-the-top flirting, you had discovered something rare.

Respect.

He listened when you spoke about your work. He valued your opinions. And above all, he didn’t take it personally when you yelled at him for burning the beurre blanc.

(Well—he pouted, but only for a moment. Then he’d get right back to whisking.)

That afternoon, the kitchen was alive with rhythm. You and Sanji moved in tandem, a pair of dancers trained not in waltz but in whisk and flame.

“Ladle,” you said.

“Ladle,” he replied, handing it over.

“Temp check on the lamb?”

“Fifty-two Celsius. Medium-rare in five.”

You turned your head to glance at him, and the two of you paused, catching each other in the moment.

“You’ve got sauce on your cheek,” you said.

“So do you,” he answered, voice softer than it had any right to be.

He wiped your cheek with his thumb. You dabbed his chin with a towel. And then, just as naturally, he leaned in to steal a kiss.

Nami’s voice broke the moment. “Ugh, seriously? You two are gonna make me lose my appetite.”

You didn’t even look back. “Good. More for us.”

That night, Sanji insisted on preparing dinner himself, claiming he wanted to "treat the queen of his kitchen like the royalty she is."

You allowed it—reluctantly.

But as the aromas filled the galley—roasted duck with plum glaze, golden dauphinoise potatoes, and sautéed green beans with garlic and lemon—you couldn’t help but watch him closely from the doorway.

He had removed his jacket, sleeves rolled to his elbows, his golden hair tucked behind his ear. His focus was intense, his movements precise. You knew he was trying to impress you. Even now. Especially now.

And it was working.

When he caught you staring, he grinned. “Enjoying the view, darling?”

“I’m mentally rating your performance,” you replied, though the warmth in your voice betrayed you.

“Out of ten?”

“Six.”

“Six?!”

“You docked three points for putting the duck skin down too early. And one for letting the fond burn—again.”

He dramatically clutched his chest. “You wound me.”

You stepped into the kitchen, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

He turned his head, his lips brushing your forehead. “I know.”

Later that night, after the meal had been devoured and Luffy had fallen asleep mid-dessert, you and Sanji found yourselves alone on the deck.

The sea was calm, the moonlight painting silver trails across the waves.

Sanji sat with his back against the railing, you curled against his side, your head resting on his shoulder.

“Do you ever think,” he murmured, “about opening a restaurant together someday?”

You blinked. “Like… an actual building? Four walls? Guests?”

“Yeah. Something quiet. Cozy. Somewhere we can work together every day and still kiss between courses.”

You smiled. “And scold the interns together.”

His laughter rumbled in his chest. “I’ll be the bad cop this time. You can be the terrifying angel of death.”

“I always am.”

He kissed the top of your head. “You’re perfect, you know?”

“No one’s perfect,” you said quietly. “Not even me.”

“You’re perfect for me. That’s better.”

As you watched the stars, warm in his embrace, you thought about everything the two of you had built. Not just the food. Not just the flirtation. But the trust. The balance. The unspoken understanding of two chefs who demanded excellence—and gave each other grace when they didn’t quite reach it.

In the kitchen, you were a storm. Outside of it, he was your shelter.

And together?

You were a fire that never burned out.

© mariah for the divider <3

[darkroom-fanzine]

[And the curtain opens...!]

[Image Description: a black and white banner gif showing Siffrin from In Stars And Time as he wanders through the third floor of the House. He is posed in the center of the image, faced to his left (viewer's right) as if moving in that direction. Behind him are four trailing repetitions of his image, each one losing opacity as they get further away, with a final fifth one having its values inverted, appearing instead as Mal Du Pays. Floating around them are six polaroid photographs, the first covering up the right half of Siffrin's face, showing instead a values inversion of it within its borders, their expression blank. Beyond that in order from closest to Siffrin to farthest away, the polaroids show Mirabelle, Isabeau, Odile, Bonnie, and one that is indistinguishable, all members of the party with their faces distorted out, while the last one is distorted beyond a potential for recognition. On the other side of Siffrin, to his left, is a flash-like burst evocative of a camera flash or a star (much like Loop's head), partially hidden over by Siffrin's shadow. Around the brick walls in the background and partially growing over the bottom left of the foreground can be seen the King's hair, and in the bottom right is text reading: "Darkroom | an ISAT Fanzine". The entire thing has been animated to look as if the lines around Siffrin, their shadows, and all the distortions over the polaroids are boiling, while light shines off from around the flash/star. End ID.]

[Hello, stardust~! How can I help you on this wonderful new loop?]

Welcome, everyone! This is the blog for the upcoming project, "Darkroom: an ISAT Fanzine". We are excited to finally announce our beginnings, and hope you will stick around to see what it is we have to offer!

Firstly, let us introduce ourselves. The mod team for this fanzine comprises of myself (@actingwithportals), as well as @voidedtea, @publiccmenace, @astrangeavenue, @sundimus, and @plasticteabag. Between the six of us, we have experience as leads, co-leads, moderators, and contributors on four individual fanzine projects, and are all excited to begin work on something new!

Now, let's get to the fun part, shall we?

[Darkroom: Negative Space, Long Exposure, Afterimage.]

The theming for this fanzine centers around the idea of distortions, how they obscure what we see and perceive, and how they can bring to light an entirely new perspective hidden behind the more easily comprehensible. In Stars And Time shows us throughout Siffrin's loops how the order of a carefully curated script can bring about a chaotic mental state, and how the chaotic breaking down of these self-imposed walls can bring about the order of accepting vulnerability.

Change is often destruction, and in the midst of that destruction can be found something beautiful, something to live for. This is the idea we hope to present through this fanzine.

[Fanzine Content.]

The Darkroom Fanzine will be a multi-media culmination of fanworks created by fans, for fans, and available for free download on Itch.io. Creations can vary anywhere from art, to writing, to music, to essays, to crafts, to whatever you can think of that you would like to see included in this project!

The only restrictions we will be enforcing is content that lies outside of the existing rating for the game, meaning no 18+ subject material.

However new you are to your Craft—whether it be writing, art, edits, collages, or anything beyond—your skills are welcomed here. From beginners to professionals, all are encouraged to apply! Once we hit an internally agreed upper limit of participants, we will lock the sign-up form should that limit be reached before the end date of the sign-ups occurs.

[Interest Checks.]

To kick this off, we are opening an interest check form to gauge interest for this project. The form will remain open from January 23rd through February 22nd, upon which the following day (February 23rd) the sign-up form will go live.

[Curtain Call.]

Thank you all for taking the time to read this far, and if you have any further questions/inquiries/concerns about this project, our askbox is open! Relatedly, you can also shoot us an email at darkroom.fanzine@gmail.com.

INTEREST CHECK FORM HERE.

[See you under the Favor Tree soon, stardust~ ✨]

[vampsol]

i'll be waiting | 𝐥𝐡𝐬

୨୧ pairing: lee heeseung x fem!reader || ୨୧ word count: 0.4k || ୨୧ genre: smut || ୨୧ tags: dilf!heeseung, babysitter!reader, body worship, dirty talk, imagined smut but not actual smut happening ifykwim || ୨୧ synopsis: "I can't wait to put bruises all over that pretty skin." requested by anon!

↪ WANT A DRABBLE DIARY ENTRY? REQUEST ONE.ᐟ

You float on your back as Jaemin kicks his little feet from one end of the shallow side of the pool to the other. “Look! I can actually do a back-stroke now!” Jaemin calls for you to watch, and you clap your hands together when he shows off.

He’s just like his father, you think. Headstrong, funny, adorable.

Until you spot the older man near the steps of the pool, and you retract your last thought. Your boss is anything but adorable, driving you crazy with his tightly fitted dress shirt and navy slacks.

“Showing off your new pool tricks, kiddo?” Heeseung smiles at his son, kneeling down to meet the little boy's eye level in the water. Heeseung's clearly on his way out to put in some overtime for the weekend, hence your presence at his mansion, but he always makes sure to check in with Jaemin before he leaves. He may be the CEO, but he values being Jaemin's father more, and you love him for that.

“Yeah! Then we’re gonna watch some shows, maybe color. The day just started, so...” Jaemin lists off the itinerary for the day, and you blush at his impeccable memory.

You call out that you’re going to grab the two of you some towels, and Heeseung takes you gently by the arm before you walk into the house. “This swimsuit is very…” He looks over your body slowly, pausing deliberately over the apex of your thighs and cleavage. Both sights clearly please him, and that pleases you tenfold.

You blush. “Thank you, sir.” The name makes Heeseung’s jaw tick, and you love the effect that spreads past his face and to the center of his pants.

He pulls you close to whisper into the shell of your ear. “I can’t wait to put bruises all over that pretty skin.”

You bite hard on your bottom lip and run into the house, the center of your bikini bottoms damp from more than just the chlorine-infused water. The images of what the night will bring come in a flash. Heeseung's kisses and marks followed by the devout attention to the center of your thighs, the mating press position that he always starts and ends the night of lovemaking with, the domineering but tender commands he embeds into your skin.

Yeah, the day will be long without him, but he’ll make up for it when he comes home later.

@gyubakeries @loserlvrss @yvnempire @addictedtohobi

𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 ౨ৎ˚₊

@kstrucknet @k-films @kvanity-main @lapydiaries @moadiarynet @sweetvenomnet @onedoornet @violetanet @whipped-kpop-creators

[paucubarsisimp]

Pablo Torre and the reader make a Tiktok trend where the reader calls Pablo's friends and parents to see if they would cover up a cheating or infidelity for Pablo.

Ex: the reader calls Pablo's mother and asks her if he is at home, that she has been calling him and he has not answered and the last thing he said was that he was going to his parents' house for dinner.

And likewise with his classmates, the surprise is that none of them would cover up something like that to Pablo and some even call him and write to him very upset to ask him where he is and who he is with and if he is cheating on the reader or not.

cheating prank

pairing: pablo torre x reader

summary: in which you test pablo's family and friends to see if they would cover for him cheating

warnings: none!

a/n: im sick :(

it started as a joke. one of those viral trends you’d seen floating around online. call your boyfriend’s friends and family, pretend you think he’s cheating, and see if they’d cover for him.

pablo was half-asleep on the couch when you brought it up.

“you’re chaotic,” he mumbled, eyes still closed.

“you’re not curious?”

he opened one eye. “not even a little. they like you too much. i’d get exposed in under ten seconds.”

you grinned. “let’s test it.”

he groaned dramatically but didn’t protest. “fine. go ahead. ruin my peace.”

you started with his mom.

you put the phone on speaker and cleared your throat.

“hola, señora torre,” you said sweetly. “sorry for bothering you. is pablo with you right now?”

she paused. “no, cariño. i haven’t seen him today. why?”

“he said he was going to have dinner with you, but he hasn’t answered my calls in hours…”

her tone changed immediately—concern sharpening her words. “no, he didn’t say anything about dinner. are you alright? do you want me to call him? maybe he lost his phone—”

you rushed to stop her. “no, no, it’s okay. just checking.”

you hung up and turned to pablo. “she passed.”

his phone buzzed within seconds. mamá calling.

he let out a heavy sigh. “i am never hearing the end of this.”

next, you called alejandro. pablo sat up straighter, suddenly alert.

“hola?” alejandro picked up after two rings.

“hey,” you said casually. “just wondering—is pablo with you?”

“what?” he sounded confused. “no, i haven’t seen him since practice. why? is something wrong?”

“he said he was going to your place, but he’s not answering.”

immediately, alejandro got serious. “do you want me to call him? should i come over? wait—is he cheating on you? what the hell?”

you choked on a laugh, trying to stay in character. “i don’t know. probably not. i was just checking.”

“call him again. and if he doesn’t answer, i’m texting him. this is shady.”

you hung up, and pablo’s phone lit up with messages

bro answer the phone now

she just called me—what is going on

you better not be doing something stupid

“he’s spiraling,” pablo muttered. “i can feel it.”

you smiled. “they love me.”

“they’re terrified of you.”

the last call was to a mutual friend. someone you both knew well—someone who, if anyone, might be tempted to lie.

you hit call and put it on speaker.

“hey,” they answered. “what’s up?”

“quick question,” you said, keeping your voice casual. “pablo said he was heading to yours tonight. is he there?”

a pause. then, hesitant: “um… yeah. yeah, he’s in the bathroom.”

you raised an eyebrow. pablo looked up at the ceiling.

“really?” you said, already smiling. “because he’s sitting right next to me.”

your friend let out a sigh. “okay, yeah. no way. i tried. i give up. i’m not getting involved in this. i value my life.”

pablo laughed. “coward.”

“smart coward,” they replied. “you’re on your own, bro.”

later that night, lying next to pablo in bed, you replayed the whole thing on your phone, still grinning.

“not a single one of them lied for you,” you said, smug.

pablo stared at the ceiling. “i have no allies.”

you kissed his cheek. “that’s because they’re all on my side.”

“i know,” he mumbled. “i could disappear for an hour and they’d start printing missing posters just to hand them to you.”

you curled up closer, proud. “they just care about me.”

he groaned. “i need new friends.”

“you can’t. they like me more.”

“unbelievable,” he muttered, but didn’t pull away.

taglist: @barcapix, @universefcb, @nngkay, @joaosnovia, @ilovebarcaaaa, @levidazai, @hollyf1,@mxryxmfooty, @halfwayhearted lmk if you want to be added!

[clonerightsagenda]

Thank you for applying for a library card!

We are a large metropolitan library with twelve branches here in the city and a consortial agreement with ninety-seven different timelines (and counting). Your card is your ticket to our physical and digital collections, where we have something for everyone.

You’ve indicated that you are licensed for time travel and regularly travel in time or between timelines for work purposes, so you are eligible for our trans-timeline borrower’s card. Please read this document carefully to ensure you’re using your new card to its fullest potential and in compliance with library policy.

Our services:

The library has a floating collection, meaning items remain at the branch where they were returned rather than being sent back to the lending branch. However, we do return inter-timeline loans to their home universe to minimize temporal strain. If you’re browsing the shelves and see a book phasing in and out of existence, alert an employee. It’s probably misshelved.  

Our new online system allows you to keep the same login information in all timelines. No more keeping track of dozens of passwords! If you previously created multiple logins tied to one card, visit the circulation desk, and we’ll merge your accounts for you. No, this will not make you responsible for alternate selves’ outstanding fines, and any version of yourself telling you that is lying to you.

You asked, and we listened. Our new online catalog displays reviews from patrons from all relevant timelines on items exceeding a 90% similarity score. We request that patrons keep debates over the superiority of their timeline’s version to venues other than our catalog.

Although our staff members are not medical professionals, they have been trained to recognize signs of temporal instability. If you are experiencing characteristic symptoms (faintness, disorientation, physical and/or mental age changes, etc.), a staff member can administer grounding agents until emergency services arrive.

The library has a robust inter-timeline loan system. If you’re looking for a book or article not published in this timeline, fill out our online form or ask at the circulation desk. The average wait time for an ITL request is five business days. That’s shortened to three if you’re requesting an item stored at the James Patterson Interdimensional Warehouse. (Note: This estimate may change as the warehouse continues to expand under its own power, or if our courier gets lost there.)

Our policies:

We do not accept returns before the publication date (month and year). Cataloging books paradoxically created through stable time loops gets too complicated. You can check a book’s month of publication in a review journal like Booklist, which we make available online and in our non-circulating magazine collection.

We’ve recently gone fine-free in this timeline, meaning we no longer charge fees for overdue books. This policy varies between consortium timelines depending on whether certain people on the board of directors have retired yet.

If a book is damaged beyond repair, lost in a Time Hole, or overwritten out of existence by timeline changes, you will be responsible for the replacement cost or a flat fee of $30, whichever is lower. We do not recommend attempting to rewrite time to avoid losing or damaging the book, as we would prefer to purchase a new copy rather than tear a hole in the fabric of reality.

Patrons may use our computers for two hours. You can extend this time if there are no other patrons waiting. Show respect to other library users and do not abuse time travel to circumvent the policy when there is high demand. We will notice if there are two of you at our computing stations. Yes, even if one of you is wearing a funny hat.

The library values your privacy. We will not disclose account information or the content of reference transactions to anyone, including alternate versions of the account holder. The library also does not keep a record of the materials you check out. However, some of our databases do track user data. If you need to conceal your presence in this timeline to avoid paradoxes, the Time Cops, or your ex, we keep a collection of electronic resource licenses at the reference desk so you can judge which products to avoid.

Holder vs. Holder found that copyright protections extend across timelines and prior to publication, and copyright is exclusive to the iteration who created the work. Patrons attempting to copy library materials and publish them under their own name will have their cards revoked, even if they created the material in another timeline. This policy was adopted after consultation with our legal team. Trans-timeline copyright enforcement is very aggressive.

The library respects the personhood and autonomy of patrons no matter their timeline of origin. However, this respect is not always universal. If you need to know what the laws are for time travelers/alternate selves/dimension-hoppers/“timeclones”/etc. in this dimension (or the terminology used to refer to them), stop by the reference desk.

Violence is against library policy. If you are about to battle your alternate self from another timeline because you ran into each other in the cookbook section, take it to the parking lot.

In conclusion:

Libraries are committed to free access to information, and with the resources of dozens of timelines available to us, our mission has only gotten bigger. In fact, we’re hiring! If you’re looking for somewhere new to apply your time travel certification, we’re looking for team members in our inter-timeline loan department. Entry-level courier positions do not require an MLIS. Familiarity with James Patterson is a plus.

We can’t wait to see you in our library. (Maybe we already have.)  

[lostwysteria]

Part 1 of the E-Soul arc! As i said before, updates in this arc will be slower. I want things to flow right and i need to figure out what to do for this one, too.

Masterlist

Mr. Shang of the Treeman Hero Agency looked out of the window of his office at the sunset beyond the panes. It was lovely. Too bad he couldn't enjoy it like he wanted to.

Four years ago his son had nearly died. If it hadn't been for an anonymous savior. He had been looking into it ever since. 

Now he knew who saved his son, at least. The very same hero that had saved Nice. Homemaker. 

An intriguing hero who was different from any other. He had made Nice soar even higher than before and the once reluctant young man did it happily. He had told Juan to back off of Nice after looking into the inciting incident that led to Homemaker signing on to Treeman, himself. Shang wanted to see where this led as it would naturally. 

His idea had paid off marvelously. 

Add to that the fact his son was almost floating on air earlier when he confessed to knowing who saved his life those years ago. 

A smile broke out from his normally serious facade.

Anything to make his son happy. 

…

“Nice, Wreck, and Moon are gonna flip, you know. You guys kidnapped me from my own home.” Lin Ling said as he did the dishes in the apartment of his three former charges. Xia Qing lived there as well, but was off on a working vacation. 

Lin ling winced as a healing injury pulled.

The three, it turns out, used to be a polycule. They split off into just Yang Cheng and Shang Chao staying in a relationship and Xia Qing staying their “platonic soulmate”. 

“They can deal with it. We’ve known you longer.” Shang Chao said as he tapped away on his tablet.

“You guys…” Ling sighed with an eye roll. 

“Besides, you should check your phone. Chao used his Nepo-baby powers to get you assigned to us as well.” Cheng called out from his and Chao’s bedroom. He was rummaging through their cluttered closet, looking for something.

“What?” Ling asked as he did as he was told.

Indeed, there was a text from Miss. J. 

Your duties have been expanded, Ling. You will also attend to E-Soul from here on out. Indefinitely. I’ll handle Nice as best as I can before you return home.

-J

“How!?”

“His dad signs our paychecks. He’s Mr. Shang. The founder of Treeman. That is A-Chao's dad.” Cheng said as he walked back into the wider apartment. 

Ling gaped at them from the kitchen area. A half washed plate was still in his hand. He turned back around quickly and sped through the rest of the dishes. 

“I signed on with Treeman after several more attempts on our lives happened. I made the right call. Mighty Glory is just Shady.” You could hear the capitalization. “I mean, no offense, baobei, but all hero agencies are shady as hell, but better the shady you know.”

“No offense taken, A-Cheng.” Chao said without looking up. “The industry sucks, but it is what it is.”

Ling frowned at that as he started sweeping the floors.

“You can sit down, you know? We are big boys, we can do our chores.” Yang Cheng offered.

“Part of my Trust Value given powers. I have the actual need to do domestic tasks. If I don't, I feel like I'm going to vibrate out of my skin.”

The two on the couch winced. While wearing the costume, Yang Cheng was totally different from his normal friendly, chatty self. But he could turn it off once out of costume. To constantly be at the whims of your powers sounded awful.

…

Lin Ling returned home that afternoon to a warzone. Oh. Nothing was out of place, but you could feel the aftermath of the battle of wills that went on. Nice was curled up in a corner on the ceiling and Wreck was trying to get him down. Miss. J was drinking straight from the bottle of wine they had stored away for cooking. 

Oh boy. He got himself into it this time, didn't he?

[maybank5]

𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐉𝐉

↳ jj maybank x you // imagine

jj maybank doesn't do anything half-assed. including anything pertaining to wooing his girl and making her swoon. in fact, he makes it his new life's mission to ensure that whenever you're around him, he gives you butterflies. at the same time, all he wants is to make you feel safe, secure, protected. no one will lay a hand on you, no one would dare.

jj is a secret romantic. it's a side of him he keeps completely tucked away, a side of him only that special someone is allowed to see. he's the type to bring you wildflowers he's picked (or flowers he's yanked from the country club gardens where he works, but no one needs to know that); the type to know exactly what your favorite order is at your favorite restaurant, and order it for you; the type to hold your hand when no one is looking, to run his thumb over your knuckles; to place his hand on your thigh as he drives fast down dirt roads.

jj's hands are always calloused. when he's not working out on his boat, he's fixing up his bike or some old car. he's always got dirt under his nails or grease on his hands. but he always makes sure his hands are clean before slipping yours in his, before letting himself even touch you.

he is spontaneous as hell. a date with jj can be anything from taking the boat out on the water just the two of you to watch the sunset, to drink cheap beer and dance to the music crooning from his cracked phone speaker under the moonlight; to staying in, watching horror movies under blankets while he holds you in his arms, making sure you feel completely safe, even if he does like to tease you whenever you get jump-scared by a particular scene. and he's always at the ready to soothe you with kisses and cuddles afterwards, of course.

sometimes a date night means getting gussied up and going out to a fancy restaurant, a kind with the white cloths on the tables and votive candles floating in glass. you know jj is a little uncomfortable in those sorts of situations, but he loves seeing you dressed up for him, getting to take you out and show you off; and he secretly loves the quietness of these dates, away from the loudness of the usual bars or beach shacks. he enjoys the way your full attention is on him, and his on you.

he loves doing little things for you. surprising you with the flowers he's picked, bringing you take-out after a hard day of work when all you want to do is put your feet up on the couch for the night, checking your tires, doing the oil changes for your car. he always makes you feel safe and looked after.

jj is handsy as heck with you. it's like he can't believe you're his and he keeps wanting to touch and make sure you're real. he's not big on PDA, but when you're alone just the two of you, he loves to hold your hand, to slip his hand in the back pocket of your faded blue jeans, wrap his arms around you from behind. he's always hooking his chin over your shoulder while you're standing at the kitchen counter. he's also playful as hell. he's so very gentle with you, sometimes you think he treats you like you're breakable, this valuable, precious thing. but then there's times when he gets in his playful moods, wanting to play-wrestle and tickle. he loves tossing you over his shoulder and tossing you back onto the bed before devouring you and completely taking you apart piece by piece.

he's intense in everything he does. especially in loving you. you've never felt a love like this, never knew something or someone could make you feel so treasured, valued, and protected. you are precious to him, and what jj maybank considers precious, he guards with his life. you count yourself blessed beyond measure that that includes you.