#I don't remember if this was supposed to be a 'single sentence' thing but I don't care

[thatcrazycrowgirl]

🌹🌹🌹🌹

🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹

🌹🌹🌹🌹

🌹

🌹

🌹

You also get a bouquet of 🌹:) love you!

*happily takes bouquet*

@havatnah, my friend, thank you so much for sending me this a while back, and I'm sorry I didn't have anything presentable to share sooner. But looking through my documents, I did manage to find something decent from my 1888!Syndicate AU idea. It does feature my OC, Magnolia, buuuut despite that, I thought you'd appreciate some soft older!Jacob spending the morning in bed - so here you go! ;) Hope you enjoy this little WIP snippet! <3

A/N: For some context, this takes place post-JTR DLC, dealing with the repercussions of the events of the Autumn of Terror. (I think I wrote this up after watching a few episodes of "Ripper Street".) Features brief (not major) mentions of scars from wounds and a tiny bit of angst mixed with fluff - a word of warning, just in case?

Magnolia sucked on her bottom lip as she continued to look over the countless letters, photographs, and newspaper clippings with exhausted frustration. She hadn't bothered to rise from bed or even get dressed, as the contents of the papers distracted her not long after she woke up. But fortunately, despite the chill of the morning kissing her bare shoulders, the bed was still warm. Lying on her stomach, she crossed her arms and rested her chin on them with a huff.

"It doesn't make any sense!" she exclaimed in a louder whisper than intended.

"What doesn't…?" Jacob's voice, groggy and rendered even deeper than usual, due to just being roused from sleep, asked softly.

"All of this!" she responded immediately without thinking. It then occurred to her that she was no longer the only one awake, and that her outburst may have pulled her lover from his peaceful sleep. She glanced over at him sheepishly. "Oh. Sorry, didn't mean to wake you."

"Mmm…don't worry about it, love," he mumbled in return, still blinking the sleep from his hooded eyes. "It's probably time I got up, anyway." He attempted to stretch his muscles, and winced a little at the dull ache that still remained in some parts of his recovering body. Then, with as much effort as he could manage, he rolled over onto his belly and half rested himself upon the young woman's bare back. "Did you sleep well?"

She lifted a hand up and cupped his cheek in acknowledgement, her thumb brushing over one of his sideburns. "Yeah, just fine," she replied, throwing a small smile over her shoulder. "You?"

"Mmm-hmm…" he hummed, the tip of his nose dancing over her warm skin. He then grinned just a little. "You just about wore me out last night," he teased.

Sir Jacob Frye, the man who had barely a reason to smile over the last year, was now teasing - no - flirting again. Who'd have thought he still had it in him?

However, his smile faded when he didn't get much of a response back from his lover, and he looked up to see she was once again engrossed in the myriad of papers and pictures sprawled out in front of her.

He sighed.

He knew realistically that despite the Ripper now being deceased, his memory and the effects of his reign of terror over London wasn't going to immediately fade from the public's recollection. But that didn't stop the tiny, idealistic part of him that remained, even after all that had happened, to hope that he could settle back down to some level of normalcy in his life - including enjoying the company of his sweetheart in bed, without anything relating to the outside world bleeding in.

He pressed a gentle kiss upon her shoulder blade.

"Why don't you put those things aside for the moment?" he tried again, his lips still pressing kisses against her skin. "It's too early."

It was then that Magnolia seemed to finally catch onto Jacob's subtly needy tone, and she glanced over her shoulder once more. Seeing his eyes, when he lifted them to meet hers, she couldn't help feeling a little guilty for letting her borderline-obsessive need to piece things together to interrupt what should be a peaceful morning.

Her own eyes flickered with a hint of sympathy. ""Oh, Jacob…I'm sorry." She then gathered everything in front of her and tossed the pile onto the nightstand, not caring when some papers fell to the floor, before turning over onto her back and wrapping her arms around her lover's neck. "Come here…come here."

She gently pulled Jacob down towards her and met his lips sweetly. She heard him sigh contently into the kiss and she smiled a bit against his mouth. Deepening it, a soft moan escaped her. She wanted to him to know that he was still more important to her than her work. He had to know.

Nevertheless, he still pulled back momentarily. He looked a tad uncertain.

"You know, you don't have to do th–"

His words were silenced with another kiss.

"Trust me; obligation is the furthest thing from my mind," she then told him with a hint of a smile, before touching her forehead to his. "Thanks for bringing me back to the here and now."

A soft and relieved look surfaced in Jacob's eyes, and he brushed the tip of his nose against Magnolia's. "Thanks for being with me here and now," he cooed.

He kissed her once more before shifting his body somewhat to lay his head upon her shoulder. His nose now nuzzled against her neck, as she began to run one of her hands through his messy hair. Her other arm wrapped around his shoulders. Under her hand, she could feel the newly-healing scars on his skin and tried to ignore it. Now wasn't the time to be remembering their origins, just as now wasn't the time to be sorting through the pages that bore the name of the monster who inflicted those wounds. Now needed to be a time of quiet, of respite, of love.

She kissed him again.

[prettyboykatsuki]

chewtoy | s. gojo

✮ tags ; dead dove: do not eat, noncon, humiliation, abuse of power / power imbalance, master / servant relationship, titles like master satoru, he's being Really Fucking Weird (sniffs u a bunch...rip), oral(f!receiving) 18+

✮ wc ; 2k (????)

✮ a/n ; horrible horrible man. can he leave me alone. extension of this

"The young Master is calling for you."

You try not to flinch. Aiko gives you a warm, summery smile and a soft nudge to your side. You can only assume this means you've succeeded and she doesn't sense your disgust.

"He's so fond of you," She ends her sentence with a wispy sigh. "Must be nice to have a rich, powerful man fawn over you a bit, right?"

You remain indifferent. She smiles again. You think she is infinitely more beautiful than you. Soft, bouncy hair and smooth skin. Her naive nature makes her shine brighter than one thousand suns. It'd be nice if the young Master showed interest in someone like her.

You put the dream to rest quickly.

"You shouldn't keep him waiting," She hums. It's so innocent. "Go on, don't let me keep you."

You don't tell her you wish she would keep you. She is also right that you should not keep him waiting. If he's summoned you to his chambers deliberately, that means he is already feeling impatient. Master Satoru never seeks you out unless he is in some kind of mood.

He's had this habit since childhood. You've never made him aware of it, and you don't plan too. One of the few things you help you know what to expect from him.

You nod her along, tell her to finish up work in the living quarters to which she agrees merrily. Her spirits are lifted by the prospect of the young Master showing you fondness. Some part of you wishes you could share in her joy.

A pit of dread makes your steps heavy, but your footfall is light and beautiful. You are poised and cool as you walk along the dark, dreary hallways that lead to the Master's office.

A door swallowed in shadow, a single light shining on the golden plaque with the young Master's full name. You knock twice, announcing yourself.

"You're here," He says. You try not to flinch. You're certain you do not succeed. You are thankful he cannot see you - or you hope he can't. "Come in,"

You open the door and step inside to his office - shutting the door behind you. Muscle memory guides you to your curtsy. You bow politely.

"Yes, Master?"

"So stuffy," His voice makes your chest feel tight with discomfort. Frustration ebbs underneath it, cuts like a jagged edged knife. "At least call me, Satoru. Our relationship is much better than that, I thought."

"I could never be so informal to the young Master," You say, and then concede. "But I will call you Master Satoru, if you wish."

"How obstinate," He drawls. You do not life your head to see the face he makes. You already know what it looks like. It's burned into your mind. "But I suppose I'll make do. Lift your head."

You lift your head, but do not look at his face.

"Come closer,"

You step towards him, your lungs pushing air out of you manually. Remembering to breathe evenly is a herculean task. He beckons you closer until you're within distance of his touch.

He glances at you. "Look at me."

You try not to hesitate and force your eyes forward. His eyes undress you. Pointed gaze falls along your features, outlines your every inch, and analyzes your face. You remain even. He hums.

His frivolity is missing. This is suddenly more frightening. His mood is worse than you thought.

"Lift your skirt,"

Your muscles tense as you try not to shake. You succeed. He lets out a soft breath before he drops down onto his knees. You do not let yourself make any sort of expression, averting your gaze. He stares long and hard at your clothed pussy.

You tremble. He assess you silently, eyes flitting up.

"Sit in my chair with your skirt over your waist. So I can see you properly and all."

You listen to his instructions mindlessly. The velvet of his chair and warmth of his remaining body heat touch your bare ass and thighs. Satoru turns to you, still on knees. His hand wraps around your ankles and slips your shoes off of you.

You close your eyes. Sudden intimacy makes you slink back.

"Look at me."

It is is a command. You let your gaze fall on him again and watch on in excruciating nausea. Your stomach twists violently at the fragility of it all. Slender fingers hook into your knee socks and pull them down along your calve until they're off. His gaze catches yours. He does not smile at you. His hand comes around your ankle again and lifts your leg closer to his face. His nose presses against the bend of your foot.

He inhales. You try not to react but you can feel your eyes go wide. Feel your muscles clench, your heart sinking. Iron fills your mouth.

He lets his nose nudge up against the top of your calf.

"Young Master,"

He stares at you. Irritation flits through his gaze. There's no getting out of this, no mercy. You slink back again. He does smile that time.

Your body prickles with unwanted heat at the sensation. He licks along your legs, biting the supple skin - huffing the scent of your sweat every time he goes along. His teeth sink perversely into your flesh, sucking until there's throbbing, marks against your calves. The color of an orchid, purple and red. Fear strikes in you like a match. His grip on your ankles moves to the back of your calves and squeezes tight. He repeats the process on both calves intently.

There's claim to this. You know this part of him. He is claiming you with vicious confidence. Something with deeper magnitude then lust. For you, he is desire and ownership and want incarnat. A testament of his own beliefs. You willfully do no make noise aside from a gasp or breath.

You don't know how long it takes until he's satisfied with the state both legs.

He moves up. Bites the soft flesh of your thigh. You nearly spit out another useless plea. Shamelessness makes up his every move. His tongue slides over every single inch of your bare skin until his noses brushes along your cunt.

He doesn't lick you there. Not right away. Again he sniffs, breathes you in deep and uncomfortable. It's violating in all senses of the word, his grip tightening on your thighs as he huffs your scent. You haven't bathed. You've practically been running around since morning, but he doesn't let up and breathes you in anyway.

You squirm at that point. Your face contorts so slightly and he's watching you for it. His face finally cracks a smile and abject dread makes your spine lock up.

"Mm," He emphasizes the sound. It's so loud in such a quiet room. "That's it."

You don't have the strength to say anything.

It's frighteningly abrupt and rough, the feeling of his mouth along your pussy. He sucks at your clit from outside the fabric and you gasp - suddenly helpless. It's not the first time, of course not. But it's never this... random. Never this rough.

Your back arches at the sudden motion, face breaking - and Satoru grips you tighter and forces you back into the chair. Forces his tongue against your clit and sucks hard through the cotton material. Your body betrays you in its reaction - nipples pebbling underneath your clothes. Nearly screaming from the sensitivity. Your lower body is all ache - hickeys and bruises and bite marks making you throb perpetually. Too much, too much, too much.

Shame floods your system as the first spike of arousal forces itself from you - your cunt floods, gushing with a sudden spike of want from rough treatment. The sound of him sucking you so hard and drenching it with his saliva echoes across the room. You're sure it's traveling into the hall.

"Master Satoru," Your voice is even but it cracks on his name. Tears form at the corners of your eyes - fear and shame mixing into desperation. "Satoru,"

He hums into your pussy and you shake. "What is it? What wish would you like your master to fulfill for you.

"Please," Your voice is hoarse. Bone-deep exhaustion is out done by adrenaline. "Not through the fabric, please. It's dirty."

He sucks again and you keen - nails digging into your palms as you throw your head back.

"Your Masters spit soaking your panties is dirty? How rude." He teases. The whimper leaves your mouth without permission. You wish this would end soon but even amidst your fog you know that is not more than a pipe dream.

He takes them off. Rolls them down your thighs all wet and drops them. You let out a sigh of relief before his nose bridges touches your clit again. Swallowing the sound, you look away.

"It's soaked," He says conversationally, "Your needy little cunt is making a mess of your Master's chair. Tsk, tsk - so shameful."

"I'm sorry," You croak, unsure of what else to say. "I'll clean it."

He laughs, seemingly alleviated from his prior upset at the state of your humiliation.

"I'm sure you'll do an excellent job," He rests his hand over the mound of your sex - using pointer and thumb to spread your lips apart and get view of your swollen little clit. He breathes on it. "But you're still begging me for my attention down here. Filthy pussy for such a meticulous maid. Do you know how wet you are? Did you miss me so much?"

You don't answer him. He goes on.

"I thought of you all week," His voice is soft. Tinged with affection, or something like it. "Ahh, dealing with higher ups is such a pain."

You stare at him. He looks back at you with a smile. You flinch. You flinch certainly. "But I can always take it out on you, can't I? This perfect, filthy, needy cunt. It'll only every belong to me and I get to use it to my hearts content. I thought of that suddenly then called you."

It's not just your cunt he's interested in. That'd be relieving if that were the case. If he only ever used you to vent his sexual frustrations, treat you like a personal cocksleeve. You think it might be better that way.

He's too fond of you for that.

The young Master treats you like a chew toy instead. He bites, licks, slobbers, and misuses you. He might hump you to chase his high from time to time, might throw you around for rough sex should the mood suit him. But he's not a clueless oaf, some classless barbarian who only feels pleasure from his cock.

His violation is something else. It's deeper in scent, richer in taste. It is born from his greatness.

He's smart enough to know exploitation and that's what gets him off most. He exploits you. Exploits your reactive body, exploits your stoicism, exploits your dedication to your duty. You're his chew toy because you are designed to be unbreakable. You are indestructible.

But you have the perfect amount of give. You flinch, sigh, and whimper enough to make your Master thrilled. You squeak and moan like you're heat addled when he plays with you enough.

To Satoru, you're the most perfect thing to ever grace his life. His favorite toy that he's bitten at since he was just a boy and grew so fond of.

No matter how much you end up in tatters, Satoru can't help but love you with all of his heart.

You get exhausted being thrown around. But you can't go anywhere, either. He's so watchful of you. He might go crazy and bite if you were to disappear.

"Cum for me," He says, sucking on your clit much more softly. He's gentle but exact. Knows the ins and outs of your body enough to send you racing towards the edge with an unimaginable speed. You gasp and shudder, holding onto his chair for your life as an orgasm shoots through like lightning through a telephone wire.

You cum. You cum hard, bruised and mind-broken and nauseous and you cum so hard something spurts out of you and makes the chair wet. The young Master is nonplussed of course, and laps it up like a dog drinking water.

"Ahh, much better." He's pleased as he stands up and then bends down to your height. His hand cradles the back of your neck with a pleasant sigh as he forces a cum-soaked kiss onto your mouth. "Just as I thought, you were just what I needed."

Utterly defeated, you pull away with a gasp. "...I'm happy to serve you, Master Satoru."

"Such a nice sentence from your mouth, true or not." He gives you one more kiss, to the crown of your head. Too tender, too raw. "Prepare yourself to service me a bit more, then."

[tashid4]

Ghostface Sero

This one is really smutty so TW‼️‼️

October 31th. It was your last year at UA and everyone was reunited in the dorm. You all decided to organise an Halloween party. At first, it was supposed to be only your class, 20 people. But over the hours a lot of people decided to join. Now there was at least 50 people dancing in the common room.

You were dancing with your friends, having the time of your life. You were just happy to be with your girls, hyping each other and laughing. It was the middle of the night but you weren't tired at all, you could dance for 10 more hours. Adrenaline coursing through your veins.

At some point you went to grab another drink but after that you couldn't find your friends anymore. Alone in the middle of the crowd. The party was in full swing. You were in full panic. You didn't bring your phone, you had no way to get to them.

That is when you saw him, staring at you from afar. Ghostface. The mask. He was dressed in full black : black pants, black tank top, black shoes and of course the black mask. You felt like he was staring through your soul.

Your eyes locked on him. Getting closer to you. Pushing people around to get to you. Alone surrounded by strangers you felt vulnerable but it was exciting to find out who was hiding behind the mask. He managed to get to you, now that he was close you noticed how tall he really was, towering over you by several feet. Still looking at him, your heart start to pound out of your chest.

"So you got a boyfriend ?" he asked with a familiar voice. It was deep and smooth. Spicy and sweet. Sharp and sugary. You liked it. "Not at all" "Good"

You smiled widely as he grabbed your waist.

"Fuck don't stop" he's been pounding into you for so long now that you couldn't even tell if it was still dark outside or if the sun had risen. His hips rocking against yours. Slapping your skin so good. It was probably red now.

"You like it when I fuck you like this baby" you were a moaning mess, unable to form a correct sentence. Your only response was a loud moan and your pussy squeezing him more. "Such a slut, letting a stranger put his dick in you. Bet you've fantasized about this"

And you actually did. Having a complete stranger ruin you with a mask was at the top of your list. It was one of your darkest secret. The only person you told this was your best friend Sero. He's been your friend since you entered the school, always sticking together. He was the one getting you back on your feet after every single one of your breakups. Wipping away your tears.

Now here he was, secretlly making you cry with pleasure. He was tired of all these guys, breaking your heart, he could take such good care of you. He knew it. Why couldn't you know that too?

"You're so pretty like this" he pulled your hair, making you let out a scream of surprise. "That's it scream for me, let everyone know how good I'm fucking you right now"

He turned you over on the bed and placed your legs on his shoulder. His thumb was drawing circles on your clit. It was so much you couldn't handle it. You were seeing stars now, incoherent thoughts forming in your head. Your name ? Don't remember it. The only thing you could focus on was the delicious feeling of his dick inside of you. Your eyes couldn't stay open, the pleasure was hitting you so harshly. "I want you to fucking look at me." He was being so mean but you honestly found him even sexier like this. Being treated like a bitch was making you so wet.

"Look at me" You wanted to but it was too hard. You were overwhelmed by all the stimulation. Suddenly, he stopped all of his movements. He grabbed your hair and whispered in your ear. "You don't wanna look at me baby? I guess I'll have to teach you a good lesson."

He got dressed and left with your panties. Closing the door, leaving you alone and naked. You were still trying to process what just happened. Did he really left you here, on the verge of your orgasm ?

Part 2 ????

[hikarry]

I'm not really on the team that swears to Jesus and beyond that Crowley lost his memories after the Fall. Yes, of course, he forgot some stuff because, ya know, he has been alive for more than 6000 years and if I don't remember what I ate for lunch yesterday, Satan knows he won't remember every single second of his life, but he remembers the important things

"Ah, but what about him not remembering fighting alongside FurFur or building the thingy with Saraqael?"

Love, I give you two options:

Those are either some of the stuff he didn't consider important enough to remember OR he is just straight up fucking with them. He does remember, but why reveal it if playing dumb sometimes is good in the long run? Might be useful

Alas, I don't know, but I will die on the hill that he does remember

Which means he most probably remembers meeting Aziraphale. Not because Aziraphale was "important" at the time per se, or because it was love at first sight (because it wasnt, not for him. Bro was so focused on the nebula he didnt even introduce himself when Aziraphale did. He threw him a "Right. Nice to meet ya. Anyway, nebula time!"), but because he was there when Crowley created the nebula and, as he said, he had been waiting for that moment since "well, always". It's an important moment for him, so he remembers. Aziraphale just so happened to be present

I don't know if that was the only interaction they had in Heaven or not (and that's not the point I'm trying to get to so I will ignore that problem for a later post, maybe), but when the now Demon Crawley was sent up to the Garden, he did remember Aziraphale. That's why he approached him

Cmon, Crowley isn't stupid. Of course he wouldn't approach an angel on the wall just willy nilly and make conversation. He didn't know Aziraphale had given away the flaming sword yet. Just approaching an angel from behind and morph into a demon next to him out of nowhere could be a death sentence. Or at least an A Line for a good smitting

Yet, he did it. He had at least 3 other angels to choose from but he approached the angel that he remembered from back in the beginning that was kind enough to help him with the engine of the nebula. Hell! I even bet this was not the first time they saw each other in the Garden!

Bet they've seen and observed each other from afar a few times while they interacted with the humans (yes, cause I believe Crawley, before tempting Eve, tried to gain her trust. It's easier to listen to a friend than a random snake) or just around the Garden really.

That's why Aziraphale didn't get surprised when Crawley showed up at the wall, because he knew the demon snake had been around the Garden for a while. He probably even recognized him as the former Star Maker and hoped he was still a little bit of his old self so he allowed himself to engage in conversation

Anyhow, another clue? This:

He remembers how Heaven works. He remembers he was a high ranking angel. Satan, he remembers the bloody passwords!

Do you know what else he remembers?

Cause they didn't throw that line in there for nothing. No, gents. Cmon. Nothing is random in Good Omens

He knows who he was. He remembers being the Star Maker that hung the stars in the sky

He remembers why he fell, for goodness sake

And the fact that he remembers everything makes all of it so much more tragic, doesn't it? He remembers his life before the Fall, his supposed friends that dragged him into the pit with them, what Her love felt like, the "mistakes" he made that led to his Fall

And it must have hurt. It must have hurt so much when he found himself in a pit of boiling sulfur with his wings completely burned and without Her love because he remembered it all. He must have been so bloody confused for so long

He might have regretted it. All the questions and the company he kept that made him Fall. But he doesn't anymore.

He knows he doesn't need Heaven, he doesn't need Hell. They are toxic. All he needs is his pacific fragile existence on Earth with Aziraphale and yet...well, that's something else he won't forget now, is it?

*clears throat*

I rest my case

[dedalvs]

Translation request: "I hate the ocean, all my enemies are across it" in Zhyler. Like the meme of the cat saying "I hate my puter, all my enemies are inside it"

You're really going to make me pull out not just one of my old languages, but my language that had 57 "cases", and then make me translate something that specifically uses a meaning I don't have a case for? And also requires a verb I don't have? (Everyone knows Zhyler has the verb astal which means "to love and hate" but no verb for "to hate".) Have I been made the object of a troll?

You better actually want this. This better be a damn tattoo.

First, you I had to, of course, create a word for "to hate", which meant having to relearn my stupid alphabetization system, since I alphabetized by the Zhyler orthography, not the romanization. Rather than go with something I felt in my bones I went with something that I knew I could alphabetize correctly, so zirel is the word for "to hate". I think it works, because I hate it.

So zir is "hate". Might as well add a -jÿr on the end to make it intensive (ÿ is [ɯ]). A first person subject makes that zirjÿrum, which, good gravy, if you know that this language is supposed to be a vowel harmony language and that is the result… What a disaster.

Now we need the ocean. Also, how dare you make me translate this. I LOVE the ocean! It's one of my most favorite things in the entire world! You miscreant! You villain! But that comes later.

There are two words for "ocean". One is ishþe which is just a place of water, but it seems like the word needed is naredðe, which is the great blue-green, the gathering of all waters.

The whole sentence, then, is Naredðer zirjÿrum. Now for the other.

The word for "enemy" is vedga. The word for "all" is las. Both of them will need to be plural, but, mercifully, nominative, so I don't have to remember what the adjectival cases are. Thus "all enemies is " laslar vedgalar. Then "my" is laslar vedgalarum. That's "all my enemies".

In locational phrases no verb is needed, which is nice. There isn't a single third person pronoun. Instead, the source of the noun class suffix is used as a third person pronoun. For Class XI (the class of naredðe), the pronoun is ða.

Now for the case, you are correct: I did not specifically create a case for "across" in this sense (the "beyond" sense). The one I would probably uses is the postessive case, which I think is supposed to mean "behind". In other words, all your enemies are behind the ocean. I believe the form is ðamej. And so, the full translation is:

Naredðer zirjÿrum. Laslar vedgalarum ðamej.

But didn't you mean "all my friends"...? Seems like the ocean is keeping your enemies away so you should be grateful for it. If you wanted to do that it'd be:

Naredðer zirjÿrum. Laslar širkÿlarum ðamej.

Either way, here's what it would look like in the orthography, which was redesigned by my cousin Claire Ng. My original font was garbage. This one is lovely. I had originally planned to redesign Zhyler and use it for the board game I'm creating (Sovála) featuring kingdoms of darling little animals battling each other. It was going to be the language for the cats. In fact, though, redesigning Zhyler is what led me to decide to create new languages. I got to the noun classes and realized the first one was for humans, and then there were several others for different sizes of animals, and this just didn't make sense at all for anthropomorphic cats in a world without humans. Thus, indirectly, it led to the creation of LangTime Studio (streaming in half an hour!).

All right, here you go. All my enemies:

And all my friends:

Now I banish you!

[little-diable]

Following Rules - Spencer Reid (smut)

I don't know where this idea came from, but boy do I love this. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: What if JJ had an older daughter? What if Spencer had known said daughter ever since she had been a teenager? What if Spencer no longer remembers the rules he was supposed to follow when (y/n) finally gives in and pulls Spencer close?

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, oral (f and m), age gap, mom's best friend situation, teasing

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader (3k words)

If there was one thing Spencer had learned from an early age, it was following rules. Perhaps it wasn’t so much about the rules themselves, about the sometimes random-seeming words that somehow managed to transmit a message burned into his mind from the second the rules were spoken to him, no matter the age. Perhaps it wasn’t so much about how the people teaching him these rules tried to pronounce the important words, underlining the importance of the rules he was supposed to follow. No, it wasn’t about these things, but it was all about Spencer desperately trying to fit in, hoping to blend in with those around him as he remembered sentences that had no real meaning to him.

If there was one thing Spencer was good at, it was remembering everything, from single words, long conversations or the plots of books that had more pages than even some other so-called geniuses could count. He could remember every rule that had been forced into his mind, no matter his age, but fuck, those rules were really testing him whenever he was around her. The girl who was just above twenty-one, the girl he had known since she was a teenager, the girl who called his best friend “Mom”. 

“C’mon, (y/n), please. It’s just one night.” JJ’s sigh echoed through the living room, hands placed on her waist, eyes staring her daughter down. (Y/n) was sitting next to Spencer, eyes flickering up from the book she was reading, barely listening to the words her mother had spoken.

“I have a test next week, I need to concentrate and not babysit Henry. Why don’t you ask Penelope?” Before JJ could reply, eyes momentarily fluttering close to give in to the inner battle she was fighting – torn between being proud of her daughter for her academic success and the annoyance (y/n)’s determination pushed through her – Spencer spoke up, forcing all eyes towards him. 

“I am free, I can totally look after Henry while (y/n) studies for her test.” The softness of Spencer’s voice momentarily distracted (y/n) from the way her heart began to speed up whenever he was close to her, wearing that smile that could melt her from the inside out, paired with the glistening pupils she saw whenever her eyes fluttered close.

(Y/n) was anything but proud to admit the way she had been crushing on Spencer for the past years. Once a harmless crush she had tried to accept when she was a teenager, it had escalated into something deeper, something more sincere the older she got. Deep down she tried to accept that this wouldn’t ever be more than a crush, a one-sided one that is, and yet she wasn’t ready to shake those feelings just yet, clinging to the thin thread as if it was her lifeline, saving her from drowning. 

“You don’t have to, Spence. I know how much you enjoy your Saturday evenings.” (Y/n) tried to stop her eyes from rolling, not wanting to give her emotions too much room as she was surrounded by two profilers, but the small bits of annoyance filling her whenever her mother looked at Spencer with those big eyes of hers were hard to shake. She wouldn't be surprised if her mother had some feelings for Spencer, leaving (y/n) with a bitter taste on her tongue.

“Oh, no, I’d love to do it. And I can even help (y/n) with studying.” Their eyes met for a few seconds, seconds that felt like hours, forcing heat to rise in her system. “Not like she needs any of my help, but who knows, maybe I’ll get the chance to learn something new from her. So it’s a win-win situation for us all, I’d say?”

……

Music rang in her ears, eyes focused on her notes, trying not to give in to the distraction silently calling for her, luring her eyes towards Spencer’s frame. A sigh wanted to leave (y/n), cursing herself for giving in all too easily, not used to being around Spencer without her mother or any other member of the BAU around. Fuck, she’d need to get a grip before one of them could see through her lies, all too aware of her crush on Spencer. 

“I think it’s almost dinner time. Do you want to eat with Henry and me?” Spencer’s soft voice drew a smile onto (y/n)’s lips, clearing her throat as she tried to shake her sinful thoughts. 

“Uhm, sure. I think Mom prepared something for us.” She felt his eyes on her frame, watching (y/n) make her way towards the fridge, reaching for the containers filled with food. The sound of his Converse meeting the ground filled the momentary silence, coming to a halt next to (y/n) to help her fill their plates, standing way too close. 

“How’s studying going? Do you need any help?” Heat rose to her face, eyes forced to concentrate on the food rather than the unmistakable grin tugging on Spencer’s lips. For a moment (y/n) couldn’t help but wonder if he was aware of the buzzing atmosphere, of the way he made her feel something she had only read about in books so far. 

“It’s going okay. Maybe you can quiz me later, once Henry’s in bed?” God, she was digging her own grave, a grave so deep she’d never be able to escape. Just the mere thought of spending any more time with Spencer, without her little brother near, left her shuddering in excitement. 

“Absolutely, whatever you need, (y/n), I’m here for you.” 

Fuck, if it was only that simple.

……

“I knew you wouldn’t need any of my help, you’re acing it!” A proud grin tugged on her lips as she sunk further into the couch, feet finding Spencer's lap before she could even think about what she was doing. But while (y/n) was panicking inside, debating pulling her feet back, Spencer didn’t seem to mind the contact, hand finding her right foot without taking his eyes off the sheet he was using to quiz her.

“Alright, two more. Name me some sources for Shakespeare's Macbeth.” With a hum leaving (y/n), she tried to focus on the question, yet barely able to do so as Spencer’s hand began to move up from her foot to her shin, absentmindedly stroking her skin. Goosebumps covered her body, growing more and more with every passing second. 

“Uhm,” her eyes fluttered close, hoping to collect herself. “Bits from the Daemonologie of King James, several tales in Holinshed's Chronicles, and parts of Hector Boece’s book Historia Gentis Scotorum.”

“Good girl.” The praise was spoken all too softy, yet loud enough to force her eyes open, finding his darkening ones within seconds. Spencer was looking at her with something unreadable swimming in his pupils, something that seemed to call her name, begging (y/n) to move closer, to find her way to him with her gaze set on his lips. But she didn’t try to move, not daring to give in first. “Last question, finish the following quote: Was the hope drunk-”

“Wherein you dressed yourself? Hath it slept since? And wakes it now to look so green and pale, at what it did so freely?” Spencer hummed as (y/n) finished the first parts from Lady Macbeth’s monologue, unable to meet his eyes. She felt him shift, watched him place the sheet down before he turned back towards her. 

“From this time such I account thy love. Art thou afeared to be the same in thine own act and valour, as thou art in desire? Wouldst thou have that which thou esteem’st the ornament of life, and live a coward in thine own esteem, letting ‘I dare not’, wait upon ‘I would’, like the poor cat i’th’ adage?” Spencer’s words rang in (y/n)’s ears, eyes focused on his wandering hand, moving up her leg till it found her trembling fingers. Their eyes met, wordlessly communicating, forcing her to shift her weight, slowly sitting up.

“You know, if there’s one thing my time at the BAU has taught me, it’s seizing every chance, even if you’re held back by rules you are supposed to follow, if it’s something your heart desires. I’m tired of fighting this, (y/n).” Spencer whispered his words, words that forced a grin onto (y/n)’s lip, barely believing her luck. Perhaps it was the warmth his words pushed through her body, perhaps it was the excitement his words made her feel, whatever it was that guided her on, it forced her to press her lips against Spencer’s before either of them could overthink this very situation. 

Within seconds she found herself in Spencer’s lap, thighs placed on either side of his, squeezing them. A moan clawed through the both of them in unison, tongues meeting as their hands started wandering. (Y/n)’s fingers tugged on Spencer’s curls, forcing the man to groan against her mouth as his hands found her behind, squeezing the soft flesh through the thin fabric of her leggings. 

“Spencer,” she hummed his name, fingers moving down to his chest, toying with his sweater, desperate to get it off him. “I need you, I want you, all of you."

“You have me, pretty girl, I’m all yours.” A smile widened on (y/n)’s lips as she kissed him again, shifting her weight further against him. The deep groan that left Spencer as her core met his hardening cock made her feel as if she was on fire, needing to feel more of it.

“Bedroom?” All Spencer could do was whisper the word, not trusting his voice, trying to hold back before he’d fuck her ruthlessly on the couch. Wordlessly she guided Spencer to her room, pulling her shirt over her head before he could get his hands on her. The sight left Spencer moaning, teeth nibbling on his lower lip, “You’re so beautiful, more beautiful than I could have ever imagined.”

“Onto your knees, be a good girl for me.” The shift of his voice, now dripping with dominance, made her walls clench around nothing, watching him plop down near the edge of her bed. She sank to her knees close to him, eyes following his long fingers, watching how they undid his trousers, how they freed his cock.

This moment had something so intimate to it, (y/n) couldn’t help but wonder why they hadn’t done this much sooner. For a second, she was forced to think of her mother, wondering how she’d react to knowing that Spencer was about to fuck her daughter, thoughts that were swallowed the second (y/n)’s gaze found Spencer’s twitching cock.

“C’mon, open that pretty mouth of yours for me.” Wordlessly she followed his command, eyes rolling back into her head as he forced her lips apart with the red tip of his cock. Groans clawed through Spencer as her tongue explored the parts he had pushed into her mouth, tasting him, feeling him, hoping that she’d never forget this very moment again. “Tap my thigh two times if this is too much for you, sweetheart.”

She hummed around him, choking on her breath as Spencer forced himself deeper down her throat. (Y/n) gagged around him, tears were instantly dripping from her eyes, rolling down her cheeks one by one, but she didn’t dare pull back, wanting to make Spencer proud. He fucked her mouth slowly, trying to keep his moans from growing any louder, not daring to attract any unwanted attention. 

“You’re taking me as if you were made for me, such a good girl for me.” His praises left (y/n) moaning around his cock, trying to keep her hands from wandering, needing to take care of the heat growing between her thighs. Spencer could tell how needy she was, how much she wanted to feel his hands on her – a sight that only spurred him on. She was at his mercy, would follow his every command, like  his own toy to use, to own, to love. 

“I want you to swallow for me, can you do that, pretty girl?” Their eyes met, his blown wide from the lust thumping through his veins, hers glassy from the tears that kept on rolling. She tried to nod, tried to move her head, though without any luck, Spencer’s cock was too deep down her throat, forcing her to hold still. Her hands pumped the parts he didn’t force down her throat, adding more friction to the way he fucked her mouth.

He twitched against her tongue, about to cum down her throat, letting go with a silent groan. (Y/n) watched his head roll back, eyes fluttering close, lips parted – a sight she’d take to grave with her. She swallowed every drop he offered her, groaning at the salty taste, hoping that this wouldn’t be the last time he fucked her mouth, the last time she got to taste him. 

“Take your clothes off and get onto the bed, sweetheart.” Spencer’s gaze burned straight through her, watching her shuffle out of her sweatpants, panties and bra, bare in front of him. The mere sight of (y/n), naked for him, was enough to leave his cock twitching once again, already begging to feel her around him. 

Their eyes held contact as Spencer stepped closer, quickly undressing himself before he rested between her thighs. He pulled her in for a teeth-clashing kiss, hovering over her with his hands exploring her naked body, cupping her breasts, pinching her hardening nipples before they found her dripping core. 

“Oh god, feels so good, Spence.” She whispered her words, eyes fluttering close as she felt his warm breath clashing against her soft skin, tongue darting out to run along her folds, tasting her arousal. Spencer took his time with exploring her cunt, thumb rubbing her pulsing bundle as he dipped his tongue into her tightness.

(Y/n) choked on her moans, having to cover her mouth to try and stop her sounds from clawing through her too loudly. He studied her with mischief swimming in his pupils, set on making her thrash around beneath him, body shaking from the first of many orgasms he’d push through her.

His thumb picked up its speed as he pushed two fingers into her, instantly finding her swollen spot, close to making her cum right there. Soft praises left him, praises she couldn’t pick up on, already too far gone, about to cum for him. Her teeth drew blood from her lip, biting into the soft flesh all too forcefully to try and keep her sounds bottled in.

“Cum for me, pretty girl, let go.” Spencer’s words seemed to push her over the edge, holding her close as if he was scared she’d disappear right in front of his eyes, not daring to ever let her out of his sight again. His fingers fucked her through her high, marvelling at (y/n) and her pleasure-drunken features. “You did so well for me, so well.”

“Spence,” (y/n) murmured his name with her voice raspy and exhausted, yet dripping with anticipation. “Fuck me, I need you inside of me.”

“Are you sure?” His hands found her chin, forcing (y/n) to get lost in his pupils, struggling to reply. A soft “Yes” rolled off her tongue, momentarily pushing him away to reach for her nightstand, placing a condom in his hand. They kept holding eye contact as Spencer rolled the condom down his hard cock, as he positioned himself near her entrance, and as he pushed into her all too slowly. 

“Fuck, you’re so tight.” His curses left her clenching around him, needing to deeply exhale as she tried to adjust to his size. Spencer watched her intently, not daring to move before she quietly whimpered his name, telling him to fuck her. He took his time, wanting to properly enjoy this very moment, feeling her walls flutter around him with every thrust.

(Y/n)’s moans guided him on, eyes staring up at Spencer, at the concentration tugging on his features, on the way his tongue kissed his teeth, on the way his eyes swam with a mixture of love and lust. His name rolled off her tongue every now and then, a mere whisper made for his ears only, a confession that weighed all too heavily, a confession that left both their hearts racing in excitement. 

He fucked her faster with every passing second, holding onto the headrest of her bed to try and stop himself from properly destroying her, not wanting to mark her up on their first night together. And even though Spencer tried to control himself, wanting to properly concentrate on (y/n), she couldn’t help but beg for more, letting go of a “Please” every now and then, luring Spencer further into the darkness calling his name.

“Touch yourself for me, pretty, make yourself cum on my cock.” Their eyes kept meeting, watching one another as her fingers circled her overstimulated clit, drawing a few more moans from her slightly parted lips. Spencer knew that he’d never forget this moment, the way she looked so perfectly buried beneath him, made for him only. 

“I’m close, Spence, need to cum, please.” Her words drew a “Fuck” from Spencer, knowing that he was just as close as she was. With a small “Cum” leaving Spencer, she let go, choking on her gasps with her eyes closed and her head thrown back. He kept on fucking her, high on the feeling of her, on the way she called his name, on the way she was his only.

Spencer let go a few seconds later, burying his face in the crook of (y/n)’s neck, silencing his sounds. For some moments they were engulfed by a thick blanket of silence, with only their moans echoing through the night, filling her room over and over again. Only as Spencer pulled away, throwing away the condom, did she dare to find her voice again.

“Spence,” the call of his name left him smiling, finding his way back to (y/n)’s bed. “Don’t leave just yet.” 

“I’ll stay right here with you, promise, but I’ll be gone before your mom comes home, we can’t risk anything.”

Perhaps breaking rules had some perks to it after all. Perhaps breaking rules wasn’t as awful as people have always told Spencer.

[wh0reforcoriolanussnow]

I Know it Won’t Work || Tom Blyth x singer!reader

Summary: You and Tom break up after three years of dating and you perform a song about the truth of the breakup for the first time live.

Warnings: slight age gap, reader is 23 and Tom is 30

Wc: 658

A/n: these r addicting to make lol. Also, changed up some lyrics for the sake of the storyline making sense. 2/4? Fics I’m posting today!

Tom Blyth x singer!reader au masterlist

Divider by @pommecita

You let out a shaky breath, "I left you here, heard you keep the extra closet empty," You sing the first words of your unreleased song to the crowd. "In case this year, I come back and stay throughout my twenties, what if I won't? How am I supposed to put that gently?" You had just freshly turned 23 and broken up with Tom.

You honestly don't know how you ended up here, in-front of a crowd of hundreds in London. Performing in front of people was the last thing you wanted to do at the moment but you had to keep a strong front for your supporters, this show was highly anticipated.

"I've had the thought, tried to work it out through anxious pacin'" Your biggest coping mechanism was writing songs. You never knew how to really express your emotions in sentences to someone, so instead, you write them into songs. Your real feelings and emotions laced into words that in the end, formed a song.

"But it's a lot, all the shine of three happy years fadin'" The crowd watched in silence, partly because it was a new song and they did not know the lyrics to sing along, but also because they were mesmerised. Your voice held so much emotion.

Your fans weren't aware that the two of you have broken up, but a few had already pieced it up. "The whole facade, seemed to fall apart, it's complicated." Everyone viewed you and Tom as the power couple, deeply in love with one another with no flaw or doubt in the relationship

While half of it was true, the other half wasn't. The seven year age gap different had been brought up so many times throughout your relationship. You remember the first time the two of you got together, you were 20 and he was 27.

You both received heavy backlash from the internet but the two of you ignored them all. They weren't the ones in the relationship, they weren't the ones to make the call about whether or not you should be together.

"And part of me wants to walk away 'till you really listen, I hate to look at your face and know that we're feelin' different," As the three years went by, uou hoped you weren't the only one in the relationship that doubted a few things. You didn’t want to admit that other people's comments were getting to you. As the three years progressed with Tom, you felt as if you were just both in such different phases of life.

You were still so young in your early twenties and fresh in your career while it seemed that Tom was ready to settle down, marry, and start a family. He would always mention starting a family and you would listen, not really knowing what to say to him.

But recently, you came into terms with the truth that both you and Tom don't share the same feelings or goals at the moment. "Cause part of me wants you back, but, I know it won't work like that, huh?" You loved Tom, parts of you still do. He never did anything wrong, he was everything you could have ever wished for. You like to think of him as the right person, wrong time.

But nothing was going to change the fact that you two were just in different stages of life. Nothing will change the seven year age gap between the two of you. "I know we cut all the ties, but you're never really leavin'"

Tom hasn't left your mind. It would've been easier if he did. But he just couldn't. "And part of me wants you back, but, I know it won't work like that, huh?" Your voice slightly cracks, a single tear drop runs down your face. Eyes closed, you let it. The dewy stream your tear left—accentuated with the bright lights focused on you—did not go unnoticed.

[wolfiesmoon]

A day to remember

Inumaki x gn!reader

this is a request!! thank u so much for requesting💗anyways time for jujutsu tech prom hehe😌 (lets pretend prom is a thing in japan and that there's actually enough students to do a cute thing like this lmaoo)

also since this is a prom fic, the second years are now third years and the first years are second years

@noomon one tag for uuuuu

The atmosphere was oddly lovey-dovey at Jujutsu Tech recently. Prom was just around the corner, so it wasn't exactly odd that spirits were high, but considering the usually grim faces that you see in the halls of the school, it does feel strange to see everyone so excited.

Then again, you suppose it is better to make the most of every day as a sorcerer and little joys like this are precisely what make all the death and injury worth it.

But, on the topic of prom... You don't know who to go with! You might just end up skipping out or going alone if you must (Gojo will probably force you to go). After all, prom isn't all about dancing with a guy and romantic stuff, it's about having fun with your friends and laughing at the memories you made as students of this school.

Or, well, for this kind of school, maybe some of the memories are better forgotten.

"Hey, senpai!" you heard a familiar voice behind you. It was Yuuji and Nobara! They often come to talk to you about random things so you aren't at all surprised to see them.

"Hello." you greet them, wondering what crazy story they'll tell you today.

"Do you already have a date for prom?" Yuuji and Nobara beamed.

"Do I- No, no I don't." that's the question you were expecting the least. Why are they asking you this anyways?

"Great." Nobara huffed, very satisfied with your answer. Yuuji seemed even more excited than before. You had little question marks floating above your head.

"Why are you happy about me being single? Are you two trying to tell me something?" your eyebrows furrowed slighly. But then again, Nobara and Yuuji are idiots (affectionately), so you don't think they're seriously trying to insult you.

"Oh, actually, it's because-"

Nobara slapped a hand over Yuuji's mouth before he could continue his sentence. "It's nothing, don't worry about it." she smiled at you, dragging Yuuji away and muttering something you couldn't quite catch.

Huh. How strange.

But now that you think about it, there is one person you'd really like to go to prom with.

.

The next day, Panda approaches you after class.

"Hey, you should like, totally follow after me right now. I have something to show you." Panda suggested cheerfully. And why not? Knowing Panda, he probably just has something funny or stupid to show you, which is always a pleasure.

As you followed him, a strange feeling started rising up inside you. You felt oddly fidgety and excited. Maybe it was the whole prom thing. I mean, with the strange conversation you had with the second years just yesterday is it that much of a stretch to assume that you're about to get confessed to via a prom invitation?

Nah, you shouldn't get ahead of yourself. If anything, Panda's going to let you in on someone else's promposal plan so you can help them out. Not that that's a bad thing, you just really get your hopes up sometimes.

You were being lead down a dimly lit hallway in one of the more secluded areas of the school. There was even candles here and there, to set the mood, you assume. Wow, this is really a last minute invitation. They're asking you to help out at the last possible moment, huh?

You soon found yourself in front of a group of students, all lined up to make a little walkway for you and Panda. Panda stops right at the end of the line, motioning for you to continue walking. All the other third years lined up were smiling knowingly at you. What in the world is going on?

You walked down the line of students a bit hesitantly, taking the flowers each of them handed you along the way. Oh wow, this is impressive. And also definitely means that this promposal is meant for you. You can feel your heart start beating faster with excitement when taking each rose into your hands.

Who orchestrated a confession so grand? Please be him...

Nobara handed you a rose when you walked by her, smiling proudly at you. Now the question from yesterday makes perfect sense.

At the end of the line of students, you saw a few of your classmates holding up signs that said "I know I'm not a man of many words, but I really need you to kelp me out here. It's almost prom night and you're still not together with me (which is criminal in my opinion). This isn't just a prom invitation, by the way. Will you go out with me tunaight?"

There's only one person that could have written those signs. Not just because of the familiar handwriting, but also because of the words he chose. And sure enough, Inumaki Toge was proudly holding up the middle sign, looking at you.

You clutched the makeshift boquet of roses in your hand. It was him after all.

In all three years of your schooling at JJT, you've found Inumaki Toge to be especially charming. You had a bit of trouble talking to him at first, but you quickly got along after you bridged the whole "onigiri ingredient" gap. Honestly, you don't know how long it's been since you felt... a special way about him.

It took you a while to realise, but you definitely like him. More than a friend.

And knowing it's mutual...

He looked at you with such hope in his eyes that it made you want to hug him and kiss him all over. And so you did.

The sign he was holding fell to the ground as you embraced him tightly and he immediately hugged you back, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to him. As if that is the place where you belong.

"Yes, yes, I'll go to prom with you!" you yelled happily, leading everyone around you to cheer. You didn't really notice it because you were busy kissing Inumaki's cheeks, but all the other third years looked satisfied, knowing their ship has sailed at long last.

"But bad onigiri ingredient puns, really? I'm feeling the second hand embarrasment real hard right now." your face scrunched up slightly, cringing.

He simply giggled quietly in response, squeezing you again.

You can't deny, that is so him.

[everythingisromant1c]

It's Always Been You - Chapter 7

james potter x fem!reader

summary - Now that things were seemingly going back to normal with James, the time had come for the marauders' next prank. But that doesn't mean you weren't in for some surprises of your own.

wc [5.0k]

all chapters | <- Chapter 6 - Chapter 8 ->

Classes for the next day went remotely better, considering the fact that no more potions had exploded and you'd given up on trying to avoid James. It seemed like it was physically impossible to do. You supposed that made sense, since you'd had him in your life for as long as you were old enough to form proper sentences. It was hard to imagine your life without him, no matter how much it may hurt to be around him.

You were forcing yourself to ignore that feeling now and focus on this impossible prank you were trying to pull off. You and the rest of the Marauders were stationed out in one of the hidden passageways within Hogwarts' walls, one that led you right in front of the Slytherin common room.

You lit the dark passage with your wand, the others having lugged the shampoo bottles you'd filled with red hair dye in a makeshift sack within the invisibility cloak, much to your displeasure.

"Remind me why we can't just accio all the shampoo bottles to us and get the hell out of here?" Sirius dropped the invisibility cloak and the bottles with a cringe-worthy slam to the floor, a sound that echoed through the dark passageway.

"Of course, Sirius," chimed Remus, smacking a sarcastic hand to his head. "Why hadn't we thought of that before? Let's just accio every single bottle at the same time and-"

"Okay, I get it," Sirius grumbled, rubbing at the shoulder that'd been carrying the bottles. "Someone's cranky."

James rolled his eyes at him. "No arguing with Moony, it's almost that time of the month."

"I wasn't arguing, only asking a reasonable question."

"Enough talking you guys," you butted in. "If we want this prank to work we need to start as soon as possible, alright?" You took their silence for compliance. "We remember the plan, yes?" From what you could see in the darkness, the four of them gave you a nod, albeit unsurely. "Okay, good."

You peeked around the corner towards the Slytherin common room and watched as the door swung open, a first-year girl walking through the doorway. With urgent eyes, you gestured for Peter to carry out his part of the plan. He didn't budge.

"Peter," you whispered, nudging him in the arm.

He turned to you cluelessly. "Hmm?"

You held back a groan, watching as the heavy door shut behind the first-year, your opportunity disappearing. "Okay, so we don't know the plan then?"

Peter looked at you guiltily. "Sorry, I spaced out when you went over it the first time."

"It's okay Pete," chimed Sirius. "I did too."

It took everything in you to stay quiet and not scold the two of them. You were already nervous enough. "I'm gonna go over it one more time, so everyone listen this time." You heaved a breath in. "First we need to make sure we can get the common room door open. Pete, you're going to wait until a Slytherin opens the door, and then run out in your animagus form and nudge that stone on the ground over there into the doorway. Got it?"

You turned to Peter, who was listening this time rapt with attention. He nodded.

"Good. Then, all we need you to do is make sure the Slytherins' bathroom doors are open, and that way James can hold the main door open so Remus can summon the bottles, about a dozen at a time."

"What?" Peter's eyes were wide and shifting around unsurely. "I have to go into the dorms? No way."

"It'll only be for a quick moment, Pete," you said, trying to comfort him.

"Yeah," encouraged Remus. "And you'll be in your animagus form, so nobody will even notice you. You don't even have to go inside the bathrooms, just make sure they're opened a crack. You'll be in and out."

You all stared at Peter expectantly, watching as he seemed to mull over the plan in his head. "I don't know."

"What's the worst that can happen?" sang Sirius. "If anything, they notice a rat in the dorms and go yelling. But this school has had rats before, so."

James stared at Sirius with widened eyes. "Don't give him any ideas, Pads." He put a hand on Peter's shoulder. "It'll go great. If anybody can do this, Pete, it's you."

James's determined words mixed with the sincerity in his eyes seemed to work, something you figured came from all his practice giving pep talks as Quidditch Captain. It took him a moment, but Peter eventually nodded, though he still didn't seem perfectly convinced.

You you looked at him meaningfully. "We won't let anything happen to you Peter, promise." That seemed to help, and you finished explaining the rest of the plan to your friends hurriedly.

You stared at the four of them once you finished. "Is everyone good with the plan now?" You rolled your eyes as Sirius raised his hand.

"All I'm saying is, everything would been a whole lot easier if we just drank Polyjuice Potion and turned ourselves into Slytherins like I said."

Remus sighed. "I already told you that Polyjuice Potion takes at least a month to brew."

"Yeah," you countered. "And besides, did you want to morph into Marcus Craggy, or were you planning on making one of us do it?"

"Oh please," Sirius laughed like you were the crazy one. "Don't be silly. Everyone knows I would've turned into a girl. That way I could-"

You held up a hand, cringing. "Don't finish that sentence, please."

Another ten or so minutes went by, though the way some of the others were acting would've had you believe it'd been close to ten hours.

"Remind me again how much longer we're going to have to sit here for?" Maybe it was the stress you'd been feeling for the past couple of days, but Sirius's sass had never been as irritating to you as it was then.

You sighed. "We could've been halfway done already if you'd all listened to the plan the first five times I said it."

"Well, we wouldn't need the plan if you'd just gotten the passwords to the Slytherin common room from Vance like we asked you to."

You reeled at the aggravating topic that he and James seemed to love to bring up. "Are you kidding me?"

"No, I'm serious."

You squinted your eyes at him and whatever joke he was trying to make in a moment you did find funny whatsoever. "How would I have even gone about asking for a thing like that anyway? It's completely ridiculous."

Sirius barked out a laugh much too loud for the setting you were in. "Oh please. The bloke obviously likes you. All you would've had to do is bat your eyelashes and he would've handed it right over."

You squinted at him annoyedly in the dark lighting. "What the hell are you talking about?"

To your surprise, James groaned, leaning back against the wall. "Enough Sebastian talk, please." His tone was grim and tight, contrasting Sirius's overly loud drawl.

"Come on Prongs, just because you're jealous that-"

"Shh, look."

You all stopped arguing at Remus's call, turning to peak back towards the hall where a Slytherin boy was entering. You didn't have any time to think over whatever Sirius had begun to say, your mind settling itself on putting the plan you'd spent so much effort trying to formulate into action.

"Pete," you whispered. "That's your cue."

Ignoring the fact that he looked like he was going to be sick, you watched as Peter took a shaky step away from the group and, before your eyes, morphed into a measly rat at your feet. The sight was never something you could get used to.

Just as you'd told him to, Peter scurried across the hallway behind the Slytherin boy and, right as the door to the common room was about to close, rolled the stone you'd placed on the ground into the doorway. When it shut behind the boy, you could see the gap in the doorway that told you your plan was a go.

"Alright Wormtail!" Sirius whispered from across the hall, and you all watched silently as the little rat looked back toward the four of you before scampering into the Slytherins' common room.

"Bless the lad," you heard Sirius say from behind you, sounding overly sentimental.

"Let's hope he won't need any blessings if everything goes according to plan." You let out a breath. "Okay, next step. We need to see where the prefects are on their rounds. Who has the map?"

You looked between the three boys, watching as they all stared back at you with blank eyes. Your mouth hung in disbelief. "Don't tell me we forgot the map again." At that point, it was getting harder and harder to keep your voice to a secretive whisper.

"Relax," said James, voice hushed. "Padfoot has it."

Sirius scoffed, turning towards the brunette. "Prongs, I think I would know if I had it-"

"Turn around."

Sirius frowned. "What?"

James stared back at him with a confident set in his eyes. "Just turn around."

"Really?" Sirius fawned with a smirk. "In front of all these people?"

James shook his head, though you knew he could never resist a dirty joke. He hid his boyish grin and cleared his throat, gesturing to Sirius curtly. "Pads, c'mon."

At that, Sirius turned around with his back facing you, and lo and behold, you could see the corners of the map peaking up helplessly from the back of his pants.

You put an exasperated hand up to your forehead, features twisting painstakingly. "Why the bloody hell is it in your pants, Sirius?"

Sirius looked back over his shoulder towards the map, face screwed up in confusion. "I honestly don't remember putting it there."

You stared at him for a moment in disbelief. "Well, can you take it out please so we can finish the prank?"

"Of course, m'lady." He flashed you a grin you absolutely did not like the look of. "You sure you don't wanna do it yourself?" James elbowed Sirius in the side, his smile swapping itself out for a roll of his eyes. "Alright, alright."

The three of you looked on as he contorted his body to reach for the map, his struggle not seeming anything but overdramatic to you as you waited impatiently.

"C'mon Pads," chided James as he went to reach for the map despite its location.

"No, almost got it." The site of him losing a match against his own pants threatened to make you laugh even with how on edge you were, though you dropped your smile when he finally pulled the map free, only to drop it. You watched with horror as it slid onto the ground, out into the middle of the hallway.

"Great." You sighed at the site of the folded paper sitting unguarded out in the open and the fact that you had no idea where the prefects were on their rounds.

"Don't worry," cooed Sirius. "I'll get it." He took a confident stride forward, but you put a hand out just as fast.

"No," you warned, not having faith in his stealthiness after what you just witnessed. "Just- just stay where you are. I'll get it."

With that, you checked that the coast was clear on both sides before stepping out of the hidden passageway and into the open corridor, ignoring the irritated look you knew Sirius was giving the others at your orders.

With your heart beating fast in your chest and a glance at the slightly ajar Slytherin common room door, you bent over swiftly and picked up the map. Once it was secured in your hands you could already feel your senses returning to normal, though that feeling left as soon as it came.

You stood back up and were face to face with a body in Slytherin robes, your reflexes hiding the map behind your back right away.

"Sebastian!" you put on a cheesy smile in greeting before you could even think straight, though maybe it was because seeing the familiar face gave you some relief.

"Hey," he greeted back, and then you watched him process the fact that you were in the dungeons all alone. "What're you doing down here?"

You spoke before you even thought about what to say. "I was, uhm, seeing Slughorn for some extra help. Felt extra motivated after yesterday." Nice one. How easily the lie came to you concerned you.

"That's great." Sebastian's voice was warm, though there was a tug between his brow as he glanced over your nervous figure. "Are you alright?" his frown deepened. "Did Slughorn say something?"

It took you a second before remembering what he was referring to. Your lie, right.

"What? Oh, no, he didn't say anything bad. I'm great, really." You nodded at him and watched his features lighten up again, and then you felt bad because of how much he seemed to really care, and about the fact that you were lying straight to his face. You'd been doing more lying than you would've liked as of late.

Right when you were about to say something else, maybe wish him goodbye, you heard a small clang come from the knight armor to your right, and you mentally cursed because it came right from where you knew the boys were hiding.

Crap, you thought as you remembered they were listening to everything. You'd almost forgotten. You spared a glance over to where you knew they were hiding out, and luckily couldn't see anything. Hopefully, that meant Sebastian couldn't either as he surveyed the source of the noise.

You turned back to him, offering a smile you hoped looked as genuine as you meant it to as you freaked out internally. "Well, it was nice seeing you, Sebastian," you said through tight lips. "Night."

He looked back at you with the air of confusion at your rushed tone but didn't question you. "Yeah, goodnight." He nodded back and you, trying not to look suspicious, walked past him as if you wouldn't turn around in a second once he left.

"Actually," he called, and you turned right back around fast enough to give you whiplash, trying to keep the map hidden behind your back. "I've been meaning to ask you something. I wanted to yesterday, actually, before we got interrupted."

"Yeah," you rushed in, cringing at the memory and mentally cursing James. "So sorry about that. James feels sorry too, about the whole potions thing, in case he hasn't apologized already." You said the last bit with emphasis because you knew he hadn't, even after all your chiding.

"It's alright, Madam Pomfrey didn't even have to do anything. And, I hope you fixed your emergency, by the way." He was referencing the 'emergency' that James had interrupted you over, one that made you fight shaking your head at the memory.

You only smiled. "Yeah, we did, thanks."

"Great," said Sebastian, and he put his hands in his pockets, looking visibly tense. Then he took one hand out to rub it over the back of his neck, not saying anything for a moment as you both stood in the hallway.

"Sebastian?" you called, and that seemed to bring him back to life.

"Right, sorry." He exhaled, looking at you meaningfully. "I guess what I've been meaning to ask was, would you want to go to the Hogsmeade trip this weekend? With me?"

You paused your thoughts, stilling at his words. Whatever you'd expected him to say before, it was certainly not that.

You didn't know what to say right away, or how to react. He was waiting for you to say something, and you definitely wanted to, but you just didn't know what. Something warm did bloom in your stomach though, and the shadows of a smile grew on your face because someone was asking you on a date. Sebastian Vance was asking you on a date.

"So?" Sebastian asked softly and you turned your attention back to him. You didn't know how long you'd left him standing there as you became lost in your thoughts, but looking at his hopeful eyes and friendly smile, you felt like the answer you came up with was plain as day.

"Yes."

"Yes?" he asked, and maybe you hadn't spoken loud enough, or maybe he was in disbelief, but you could see a smile breaking out on his face and it felt almost contagious.

"Yes," you repeated through a smile of your own. "I'd love to go on a date with you, Sebastian." Your eyes widened. "It is a date, right?"

He laughed, soft and quiet in the empty hallway. "Yeah, it's a date. That is, if you're alright with that."

You chuckled shyly, feeling unfamiliar in your own skin. Was this really happening? "I'm alright with that."

"Great." Sebastian clapped his hands together low in front of him, chest rising and falling steadily as if some great weight had been lifted from him. He looked almost radiant—he was a good-looking boy, might you add. "You know, I wasn't exactly sure you'd say yes with Potter and all."

You paused, smile swapping out for a confused frown. "What?"

Sebastian looked at you like then like he'd hit a nerve and was suddenly cautious. He put his hands in his pockets again, shrugging it away. "It's nothing, never mind."

You tried to make your face more casual and less alarmed. "No, really. What do you mean?"

Sebastian seemed to pause for a second in thought like he was weighing his options, before letting in. "It's just that, I don't know, I thought you and Potter were kind of an item. At least at one point. A lot of people do." His words seemed to flow out endlessly and you couldn't believe you were hearing them right. "And you know, with the rumors about you guys, er, in the broom closet and all, I wasn't sure-"

"On my God no," you cut in quickly, feeling both mortified with flames at your cheeks and angry at whoever started them. "Those were just rumors. Godric, I don't even know how they started. James and I are friends. Just friends."

Even if Marlene and Lily had always poked fun at you about the topic, you'd never actually thought about what others thought of you and James. Could they see your crush on him during all these years too? The fact that Sebastian had assumed you might be together made you feel ... you didn't know how it made you feel.

But none of that mattered now. What you said was true: you and James were just friends. You wouldn't let the possibility of anything else interfere with your love life, or your lack of one, rather. At least not anymore. You thought about what Sirius had said to you the other night and hated him slightly less for it.

"Well that's good to know," said Sebastian contently, taking you out of your spiraling thoughts. "So, I'll see you then?"

You were about to say "yes," and finally wish him a goodnight until a high-pitched and truly ear-cover-worthy scream sounded from the Slytherin common room. Not more than a second sooner did you watch as a rat, not just any rat—Peter—scurried out of the small crack in the doorway and down the hallway.

You'd momentarily forgotten where you were and exactly what you'd been in the middle of doing before Sebastian had stopped you, and the site of Peter was a blaring reminder. You thanked Merlin that Sebastian had his back to the door because somehow he hadn't noticed Peter running panicked right past his feet.

He turned to you in confusion and some horror. "What the hell was that about?" he looked between you and the common room door, laughing, and you laughed too, albeit nervously to mask your horror.

"No idea."

Thanks to the commotion that the rat spotting had caused in the Slytherin dorms, your carefully planned prank had, for lack of a better word, gone to shit.

Peter had returned to the boys' dorm early after the chaos of his being discovered and hadn't come back. None of you blamed him very much, though. Especially not after Filch's cat Mrs. Norris made an unexpected appearance on the Marauder's map, and you all watched anxiously as she chased him all the way back to the dorms.

"'Was bloody horrifying," shuttered Peter as he took a seat on his bed. You'd all headed back to the dorms once you realized there was no way you'd be able to finish the prank after that.

"We're so sorry Pete." You sat down on the bed next to him. "I really didn't think they'd notice you. They usually don't."

"Yeah," added Remus. "And I don't know how we missed Mrs. Norris on the map. It's our bad, really."

"Some first-year girl threw a book at me. Nearly missed my head!" Peter rubbed at the back of his skull as if he could still feel the almost-impact.

Sirius walked over, patting him on the head. "We'll get our revenge soon, Wormy. Don't you worry."

You stared up at him wryly. "We will not be 'getting revenge' on an eleven-year-old, Sirius."

"Of course not," he rang, patting you on the head too, which you batted away. "I only meant with the hair dye, is all." You ignored the wink you saw him give Peter as he went to sit on his own bed.

You watched as James walked into the dorm room last, sitting on his bed next to Peter's wordlessly. You all had a defeated air to you because of the failed prank, though James looked the worst.

"C'mon guys," you urged. "It could've gone a lot worse."

Peter shook his head from next to you. "Could it have? I almost got eaten by a cat."

"Yeah," Sirius said, tone sour. "Excuse us for being so down about that disaster of a prank. Not all of us scored a date from it, you know."

You looked down at your lap with a scoff. "I knew you wouldn't let that go."

"Did you really expect us to? I mean, really? That Slytherin bloke?"

"Oh my God." You shook your head. "I am done listening to you all groan about your house rivalry. Him being a Slytherin has nothing to do with whether or not I should date him."

Sirius looked squinted over at you, looking like he had a thousand responses on the tip of his tongue, but then he shrugged. "Okay, fine. But house aside, Vance is a total player."

You scoffed again in annoyance. "He is not." You traced back all memories of the boy in your mind and could think of maybe two other girls that he's dated. You rolled your eyes. "And I find it pretty ironic that you of all people are calling someone a player, Sirius."

He laughed, obviously finding the conversation much more amusing than you were. "Do you even like him?"

You were getting more worked up than you would've liked, confused as to why Sirius was challenging this so much when he was just lecturing you about never going on dates. "What is there not to like?" you retorted. "He's nice, smart, he's a great Potions partner-"

"But do you like him?" Sirius cut you off with a seriousness in his tone, looking at you challengingly. A silence filled the room for a moment, the others all sprawled around it as an audience to the argument you wanted nothing to do with.

You stared back at him, considering things in your head for a moment before answering. "Yes, I do." You put a hand on your hip. "Are you happy?"

Sirius didn't respond to your frustrated question, shifting his gaze to something behind you. "Prongs, what do you think about all of this?"

You frowned at the unexpected change of focus, following Sirius's eye-line over to James, who sat on his bed, hunched forward with his elbows to his knees. He looked pensive, maybe still defeated from the prank, but something unidentifiable simmered behind his gaze, seeming to harden it. You didn't know what it was and you didn't know what Sirius was trying to do by involving him either.

He was silent for long enough that you were beginning to think he hadn't heard Sirius, until he shrugged. "I just can't believe you're missing our first Hogsmeade trip of the year."

If there was anything you were expecting James to say, it wasn't that. You ran a hand through your hair. "I guess I hadn't really thought about that." You turned to James thoughtfully. "It isn't like I'll be gone the whole day. And there will be other Hogsmeade trips for us to all go to, right?"

"We always spend the first one together, though," James said, tone heavy.

"He's right," Peter agreed. "It's practically a tradition."

You sat back down on the bed, feeling tired. "What do you guys want me to do? Tell him I can't go out with him?"

"Of course not," Remus chimed. "We're happy for you. They're just saying they're gonna miss you being there on Saturday, is all." He stared at the others expectantly. "Right guys?"

It took a second, but they all nodded, some apologies muttered, and you'd never been so thankful for Remus.

"Thank you," you said sincerely. "That means a lot." You sat in thought for a moment, before an idea sprang into your mind. "Why don't we all go get butterbeers from the kitchen like we always do after a prank?"

"After a successful prank," Sirius corrected.

"Yeah, I don't know if I'm in the mood to celebrate." Peter looked like he was reliving the horrors of the rat fiasco in his head again.

"It would cheer you up though, wouldn't it?" You nudged Peter's side before standing up. "Come on." You pulled on his arm until he was standing up lazily, though you knew he was fighting a smile. "Let's go. The house elves would love it if we paid them a visit." You motioned for them all to follow as you walked towards the door, Sirius and Remus doing just that, but James stayed put. "James?" you called. "You coming?"

He looked up at you from where he sat, face seeming drained of any excitement at the prospect of his favorite drink, eyes avoiding yours. "I think I'll just stay back."

Your brows furrowed in concern at his dejected voice and unconvincing flash of a smile, and you took a step closer to him. "Are you sure? You never turn down a butterbeer."

His face had gone stonelike and revealed little to nothing, but you knew something was off. "Just don't feel up to it. You guys go."

You didn't budge right away, looking at your friend more closely in an attempt to figure out what was wrong, but Remus stepped in front of you.

"You guys head to the kitchens. James and I will catch up, just give us a minute."

You stood there, looking back and forth between Remus and James unsurely like there was some unspoken secret they both shared. Remus met your eyes, nodding at you assuredly, and you relented, glancing back at a confused James before leaving the dorm room. Sirius and Peter followed behind you.

"What do you think that's all about?" Peter asked as the three of you walked through the common room to the portrait exit.

"It's James," Sirius responded naturally. "It's probably either about Quidditch or Evans."

By the time the three of you all made your way down to the kitchens and ordered up five butterbeers, Remus had followed through on his promise and had James following him into the kitchen, though he looked a tad off. Not his energetic James self, his head was slightly hung forward with his hands in his pockets.

Remus took the spot next to Sirius at the table you sat at, and James took the spot next to you. You peeked over at him concernedly, but he didn't look up from wherever he was staring off.

"Alright," Sirius announced. "Now that we're all here," he picked up his butterbeer, "let's make a toast, shall we?"

"To what exactly?" asked Peter. "Not like we can toast to a good prank."

"I know," you said as you raised your glass. "To a great school year and successful future pranks."

"Yes," agreed Sirius. "And to many more hot Hogsmeade dates."

Laughter bubbled from Peter and Remus with your lips parting in alarm, though you were holding back laughter too. "Sirius," you chided, and he shrugged.

"Only being supportive."

With a roll of your eyes, your glass collided with three others, one glass missing from the toast.

"James?" you called. His eyes snapped up like he hadn't even noticed the conversation going on. You turned to him with a lowered voice that revealed your worry. "Is everything okay?"

He cleared his throat slightly, eyes not meeting yours, though you could've sworn he shared a look with Remus. "Yeah, sorry." He hurriedly raised his glass too. "Cheers," he added, and took a sip of his butterbeer that had his head tipping back.

The others seemed to overlook James's odd mood and conversation flowered regularly for the rest of the night, though you noticed time and time again James's offness in the way he talked less, or the times he'd space out or seem distant.

After some time the five of you headed back to the common room. Even during the walk back James was a few feet ahead of the group, veering off into his dorm room before you could even say goodnight. You stood there in uncomfortable thought, staring at the staircase he'd just climbed before Remus came to stand by your side.

"You alright?" he asked, and you could see from your peripheral the way he peered at you in curiosity.

"What happened back there with James?" You shifted to face him, watching as he waved an arm casually.

"Nothing, really." You gaped at him disbelievingly at his obvious avoidance of your question. "He'll be alright," he added under your scrutiny. "He's just having an off night."

"What'd you say to him to get him to come with us to the kitchens?"

"You just have all the questions lined up, don't you?"

You glared at him and his sudden annoying sense of humor. "Remus."

"Alright, alright," he chuckled, putting his hands in his pockets. "I just told him to lighten up," he shrugged. "Be happy for you, is all."

Your mind faltered, eyes widening. "You think he's upset about me?"

Instead of answering your question, Remus simply tipped his head down, a one-sided smile tugging at his lips.

"What?" You pried, feeling like there was some big joke you'd been left out on. Remus looked back up at you, shaking his head, but you were feeling more irritated than playful. "No seriously, what?"

With a knowing glint in his eye, Remus bowed his head before taking a step back towards the steps. "Night."

It took you a second to realize he was going off to bed and ignoring your question, leaving you clueless in the common room.

"Remus Lupin!"

Your shouts only met his back as he disappeared up the steps. You huffed. When Remus really wanted to, he had it in him to be even more aggravating than Sirius in a bad mood.

taglist!! ->

@hisparentsgallerryy @msmk11 @garfieldsladybird @empath-bunny @urmykindofwoman

[calliesmemes]

ATLANTIS: THE LOST EMPIRE (2001)

SENTENCE STARTERS PULLED FROM THE DIALOGUE FEATURED IN THE ANIMATED FILM ATLANTIS: THE LOST EMPIRE, with some quotations slightly modified for roleplay purposes.

CHANGE gendered words and in-universe phrases as needed.

SPECIFY muse for multimuses.

   “   Uh, would you gentlemen please excuse me for a moment?   ”

   “   If I ever hear the word "Atlantis" again, I'll step in front of a bus!   ”

   “   You have a lot of potential.   ”

   “   Who... who are you? How did you get in here?   ”

   “   I'm acting on behalf of my employer, who has a most intriguing proposition for you.   ”

   “   Relax. He doesn’t bite … often.   ”

   “   Did you really know my grandfather?   ”

   “   We stayed close friends ‘till the end of his days.   ”

   “   He spoke of you often.   ”

   “   I've spent my whole life studying dead languages.   ”

   “   I will stake everything I own, everything that I believe in... that this is the genuine Shepherd's Journal.   ”

   “   I'll show them! I will make them believe.   ”

   “   For years your granddad bent my ear with stories about that old book.   ”

   “   Your grandpa was a great man. You probably don't realize how great.   ”

   “   Don't let her age fool you.   ”

   “   Our lives are remembered by the gifts we leave our children.   ”

   “   Atlantis is waiting. What do you say?   ”

   “   Boy, I’m so excited, l-l-l-I can't even hold it in.   ”

   “   Excuse me? I need to, uh, report in?   ”

   “   Blondie, I got a bone to pick with you.   ”

   “   If you're lookin' for the pony rides, they're back there.   ”

   “   You can’t put a price on the pursuit of knowledge.   ”

   “   This should be enriching for all of us.   ”

   “   Now tell me your story, my little friend.   ”

   “   This is an outrage! You must leave at once! Out, out, out, out, out!   ”

   “   Now, what have I told you about playing nice with the other kids?   ”

   “   Back to the pit from which you came!   ”

   “   OK, everybody. I want you to give Mr. Thatch your undivided attention.  ”

   “   Cartographer, linguist, plumber. Hard to believe he's still single.   ”

   “   Captain, you'd better come look at this, sir.   ”

   “   Do you want to do my job? Be my guest.   ”

   “   How much time do we have?   ”

   “   I don't think he's comin' back.   ”

   “   Move it, people! Sometime today would be nice!   ”

   “   I won't sugar-coat it, gentlemen. We have a crisis on our hands.   ”

   “   Looks like all our chances for survival rest with you, Mr. Thatch.   ”

   “   We’re all gonna die.   ”

   “   Looks like we have a little roadblock.   ”

   “   That thing is going to keep me up all night, I know it.   ”

   “   You know, we've been pretty tough on the kid. What do you say we cut him some slack?   ”

   “   Hey, Milo! Why don't you come sit with us?   ”

   “   Hey, Milo, don't you ever close that book?   ”

   “   I know, I know. Sometimes I get a little carried away.   ”

   “   You know, that's what this is all about, right? I mean – discovery, teamwork, adventure. Unless, maybe, you're just in it for the money.   ”

   “   Hey, how’d you learn how to do that?   ”

   “   I never got to meet your grandfather. What was he like?   ”

   “   He was like a father to me, really.   ”

   “   My parents died when I was a little kid, and he took me in.   ”

   “   That is so cute!   ”

   “   Uh, no... no offense.. but how does a teenager become the chief mechanic of a multimillion dollar expedition?   ”

   “   So, what... what happened to your sister?   ”

   “   I just like to blow things up.   ”

   “   All right, who's not dead? Sound off.   ”

   “   Maybe that's our ticket outta here.   ”

   “   I gotta hand it to you. You really came through.   ”

   “   They can smell fear just by looking at ya.   ”

   “   We are explorers from the surface world. We come in peace.   ”

   “   Come. You must speak with my father now.   ”

   “   Someone's having a good time.   ”

   “   Commander, there were not supposed to be people down here. This changes everything.   ”

   “   This changes nothing.   ”

   “   You presume much to think that you would be welcome here.   ”

   “   I know what you seek and you will not find it here.   ”

   “   Your journey has been in vain.   ”

   “   May I respectfully request that we stay one night, sir?   ”

   “   Your heart has softened, Kida.   ”

   “   A thousand years ago, you would have slain them on sight.   ”

   “   We were once a great people. Now we live in ruins.   ”

   “   The kings of our past would weep if they could see how far we have fallen.   ”

   “   Our way of life is dying.   ”

   “   When you take the throne, you will understand.   ”

   “   Well, the King and his daughter don't exactly see eye to eye.   ”

   “   Well, if he's hiding something, I want to know what it is.   ”

   “   Look, I have some questions for you, and I'm not leaving this city until they're answered!   ”

   “   Oh, there is so much to ask about your world.   ”

   “   You are a scholar, are you not?   ”

   “   I got a few questions for you, too. So let's do this, OK? You ask one, then I'll ask one, then you, then me, then...well, you get it.   ”

   “   how did you get here? Well, I mean, not you personally... but your... your culture. I mean, how did all of this end up down here?   ”

   “   Wh... what... what … are you telling me… that you remember what happened because you were there? No, that... that's impossible...   ”

   “   How was my accent?   ”

   “   You know, you deserve credit for even... even gettin' this far.   ”

   “   By the way, we were never properly introduced. My name's Milo.   ”

   “   Uh, hey, you got a nickname?   ”

   “   You know, my grandpa used to tell me stories about this place as far back as I can remember.   ”

   “   I just wish that he could be standing here with me.   ”

   “   We are not thriving. True, our people live. but our culture is dying.   ”

  “   I wish there was something I could do.   ”

   “   Why don't you lead the way, because I have no idea where we're going.   ”

   “   This is amazing! A complete history of Atlantis!   ”

   “   I am such an idiot.   ”

   “   This is just another treasure hunt for you.   ”

   “   I would've told you sooner, but it was strictly on a need-to-know basis.   ”

   “   Welcome to the club, son.   ”

   “   Mercenary? I prefer the term "adventure capitalist."   ”

   “   You don't know what you're tampering with, Rourke.   ”

   “   Academics. You never want to get your hands dirty.   ”

   “   I got to admit, I'm disappointed.   ”

   “   You're an idealist, just like your grandfather.   ”

   “   For once, do the smart thing.   ”

   “   I really hate it when negotiations go sour.   ”

   “   Well, as usual, diplomacy has failed us.   ”

   “   You've got to listen to me. You don't have the slightest idea what this power is capable of.   ”

   “   Let’s get this over with. I don’t like this place.  

   “   Doesn’t anything surprise you?   ”

   “   Talk to me, Thatch. What's happening?   ”

   “   So I guess this is how it ends, huh?   ”

   “   You've read Darwin. It's called natural selection. We're just helping it along.   ”

   “   Be serious. This is wrong, and you know it.   ”

   “    You pick now of all times to grow a conscience?   ”

   “   She has been chosen... like her mother before her.   ”

   “   I followed you in, and I'll follow you out.   ”

   “   it's been my experience that when you hit bottom, the only place left to go is up.   ”

   “   What do you think that you are doing?   ”

   “   We're going to save Atlantis, or we're going to die trying.   ”

   “   Well, I have to hand it to you. You're a bigger pain in the neck than I would have ever thought possible.   ”

   “   Tired? Aw, that's a darn shame, because I'm just getting warmed up.   ”

   “   There's a hero's welcome waiting for the man who discovered Atlantis.   ”

   “   I don't think the world needs another hero.   ”

   “   I'm going to miss that boy. At least he's in a better place now.   ”

[goldsbitch]

Just don't talk------

-actually, maybe don't stop.

p7 to Just don't talk

summary: Enemies to lovers on steroids. Excuse me, feelings coming through.

Some people were not destined to be friends. Or coworkers or anything like that. The vibes were just not there.

It was a regular FIA briefing. For everyone else in the room it was a rather dull part of their duties, but unskippable. For Y/N it was a true test of will, getting seated right behind Lando. She could not remember a single thing from that meeting. Because how was she supposed to, when Lando's neck and perfectly cut hair were right in front of her. She remembered kissing the back of his neck - and she was suppose to just sit and listen to some regulation changes? When his freckles were just screaming "trace us with you finger, please". The worst thing was when he brushed his hair with his hand or scratched himself. Somehow, he seemed to be doing only that.

Lando was more than aware of the fact she was sitting behind him. It made him more nervous than usual, because he felt zero control over what is happening with her. They hadn't spoken since the gala, no matter how much he wanted to untagle that, he couldn't find the right words or courage for that matter, to try and talk to her. Questions were occupying his mind the whole meeting. Was she aware of him? Watching him perhaps? Wait a minute - was he sitting in some weird position? Is this how people usually sit?

Oscar was sitting next to Lando and noticed how much more weirdly nervous he was getting this afternoon. He quickly exchanged welcoming looks with Y/N, her also being weird ever since their outburst that one evening. Oscar and Lando were getting closer than they had before, so when Oscar connected two and two together, Lando's erratic behavior slowly starting to make sense. He decided to test the waters.

"Hey man," he whispered to Lando loudly enough for Y/N to hear. "That girl there is staring at you like crazy," he said, pointing to some random employee, who definitely was not staring at Lando, but that was not the point there. "What do you think? She looks fun." Lando nearly fell of a chair when he heard him. These kind of comments were highly unusual from Oscar. "What?" he asked, hoping he misunderstood him. This kind of a sentence usually fell out of Daniel's mouth. "Mate, she's been looking at you all this meeting. I think you have a chance."

Of course Y/N heard them. And yes, she did stop breathing for a moment. What was Oscar on about? Why was he doing that? And how the fuck is Lando going to react. He knew Y/N heard them. Of course she must have. His mind was panicking back and forth, trying to come up with an answer that would shut up Oscar. What also freaked him out was that he realized he cared about what Y/N thinks. Maybe Oscar was right, maybe he needed a casual easy hook up. Something less complicated. But, he decided not to burn down the whole house this time using his words only. Neutral. Keeping it open. "Bro, who isn't looking at me," he said and ironically squeezed his bicep. Y/N was finally able let her breath out. Not the worst answer he could have said. Still, she did not need to hear to hear the rest of their talk. In fact, she needed to get out. Focusing on the FIA announcement was not enough, so she politely excused herself and went to the bathroom. Oscar saw that and smiled. His instinct was right. He stopped with his questions and Lando shot him a weird questioning look once Y/N was gone. "So how long is this going on?" Oscar shot at him once again. Lando's eyes went full wide. "Could you stop whatever you're doing, man?" he urged and looked over to the exit, to see if Y/N was still in sight. When he didn't see her, he turned back and opted for fully ignoring Oscar's face filled with amusement.

//

Lando was not having the best of days. High pressure from the team, since they'd manage to finally get the car into decent state and it was his time to shine and start bringing poles and podiums. Just like Oscar has. But Lando was somehow out of tune with himself - he was not bad, not good, just somehow mediocre. His ego not handling well that his younger teammate having seemingly no issues. It gave him back flashbacks to when he was the young shot happy go lucky star of the team. Now he was becoming the older one with the weight of the pressure bigger than ever.

Qualifying came after few strange practice sessions. But, Lando was picking his spirits up and not letting his head play into it.

He was going to have an absolute blast of a quali. He needed that.

Y/N's team was in their struggle era. Nothing to be done about it, not even her teammate was able to perform. So for her, it was about showing up, doing her job and then let help her team analyse where they could improve. But no one expected them to be the star of this Grand Prix. Having nobody expect anything from you is a different kind of pressure for a F1 driver.

The smell of burning rubber and the loud noise of the paddock was hitting Lando harder that usually. Normally, he would find comfort in the smell of a burnt tire, but this time it was just too much. Lots of people roaming around the McLaren paddock and he was in no mood for that. Headphones and ignore button was his escape strategy. He politely rejected few journalists as he walked away from the driver's parade, quickly shooting few looks towards Y/N who had an aura or a happy-go-lucky fun person today. Lando ignored the next journalist who tried to stop him.

It's impossible to follow other driver's quali when you're also driving. So Y/N found out only at the end that Lando, who passed by on the track in Q2 with a flying speed, was facing the possibility of having his time deleted due to track limits. Her heart sank a little lower than when she was not able to even get to Q3. Somehow, she was ready to be internally proud of him and his improvement. Seeing him, sitting on the platform with the fastest car of the session, watching his P2 getting slashed was brutal. She wanted to slap George, who visibly cheered when this meant he got pushed into Lando's spot.

Interviews were a great thing when one was to be happy and cheerful, it was a great way how to share enthusiasm. But when one had a failure on the back, answering questions without having a moment to process was just pure sadism. At least this was how Lando felt, but surely others must have shared this as well. He knew his duties, so he paraded himself from one journalist to another, like on some strange carousel. He was so lost in his world that he completely missed Y/N, who was doing each interview after him, hearing his self-deprecating answers getting worse and worse with each interview. She had to fight the urge to simply hug him in front of all the people.

There was no place without prying eyes in an F1 paddock. Y/N hoped she would manage to get to the McLaren hospitality without being seen by any major news outlets. And if so, fuck it. She texted Oscar to help her get in through the back door and slip in without causing a scene. He did just that.

"He's in his driver room," he simply stated when she entered.

"Thanks, Oscar. Can you take me there? Is there anyone in?"

"I highly doubt that. He told everyone to not so kindly fuck off."

"Well, I guess I'll join them soon," she sighed, knowing that stubborn Lando was a no go Lando. That stupid boy, always pushing everyone away.

"Again, highly doubt that," Oscar replied without a cell in his body doubting this. She just smiled and they shared a knowing look. Once she'd be ready, there was a long list of questions she had for Oscar. He just wanted to help his clueless friends.

When they reached the driver's room door, she started doubting her decision. Oscar saw that and knocked loudly instead of her.

"Please leave me alone, I've said it few times now," came from behind the door by a distressed driver. Oscar shot Y/N a serious look, pushing her into speaking.

"Lando?" she simply asked, not knowing what to say.

"Y/N?" he replied with a much softer tone that previous sentence.

"Can I please come in?" she asked in the most honest tone Oscar had ever heard her speak in.

The door clicked and opened slightly. Oscar saw this as his cue to leave and Y/N entered the room.

When she came in, Lando was facing her with his back, still in his driver suit and sipping on his energy drink. She gulped, sensing the tension in the room. They were both equally bad at talking. Was this just going to cause more problems again?

He felt down, really down. The only reason why he let her in was that there was no one else to go to. A slight glimmer of hope that she might make him feel understood.

"I'm sorry your lap got deleted. I watched in on a replay, pretty badass," she said with the same soft tone as before. Her voice was music to his ears, but the words she said stung like a bee. Pity was not something Lando sought after.

"Badass maybe, stupid definitely," he replied, playing his mistakes over and over.

"That's just stupid. Stop blaming yourself all the time."

He turned around to face her. "So should I just blame the pit crew? Or the engineers? No, I'm the only one who fucked up. The one who let the team down."

His attitude was starting to really annoy her. "Lando, shut the fuck up. Stop with this self hatred."

"This is what losers say."

"Ok. Let's play a game. Imagine I did what you did today. Tell me the things you're saying yourself in your head. Say them outloud." He was taken back by her sudden shift of mood, not knowing what king of a game she was playing this time.

"No."

"Say it. I'm not leaving." She paused, awaiting his reaction. Nothing came, so she pushed more. "Come on."

He took a deep breath. Fuck it, what's the worst that could happen?

"You're stupid for risking too much. You knew that the track it tricky..." he stopped himself abruptly. He could not bare saying the rest of his speech to her lovely innocent face. "No, I can't. You haven't made the mistakes. I have. So fuck this shit."

She took another deep breath in. Knowing that every word she chose mattered. "My point is - you would not say these things to someone else. because you know that it just does not help. It's toxic and only gets you stuck. Owning up your mistakes does not equal beating yourself up for them. I saw your engineer on the hallway. That's not a face of someone who blames you the same way you do yourself."

He finally let her in. "So many hours of people's lives invested in that. The people working, the fans traveling and spending money on watching me fail like a school boy. What if I'm just not enough?"

It was strange how much she was able to relate to that feeling. "If you'll start believing these thoughts, you will not be. But there is so many smart people who believe in you. Not because they like you or because they are a fan. Because they look at the graphs and see it. Black on white."

"Do you believe in me?" he heard himself slipping through his lips. All walls were down at the moment. The raw look in his eyes was something Y/N would remember forever.

There was no way she could answer this in a negative matter. "I'm scared of you on the track," she laughed. "In the best way possible. When you flew beside me today, I felt....I dunno. I guess I felt proud."

Silence fell over the two very tired and exhausted souls. Maybe that's why they were able to let their guards down. In that moment, Lando regretted every bad word he ever said to her. She stood there, in the most human way he ever saw her. Intoxicating kindness.

"Can I hug you?"

"Yes."

And so he embraced her, with all that he had been holding back these past days, letting go of all the tension, replaying the words she just said to him. The smell of her hair hitting him hard. Her sore post-race body crumbling into his.

part 8

_________________________________________

@scopeiguess @leclercsluv @sulliamour @starmanv @riverxsq @eviethetheatrefreak

finally back at it! more coming - thanks for the support!!!

[angelsleepinggurl]

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐚𝐰?

.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲

today is another day of smooth sailing. all classes have gone smoothly, great feedback from your teacher and completely undisturbed. friends take too much time. you're routinely tucking the chairs under the large table, humming as you enjoy the silence, admiring the warm glow cast on the brown table. a sudden creak of the door makes you look up in surprise, expecting to see a council member, but being thoroughly surprised when you see a group of boys enter.

"i don't know what event is going on but i can help you find it." you offer, stopping your cleaning.

"don't worry princess we're here for you." kuroo chuckles, and the whole lot let themselves in. oikawa, bokuto,kuroo, daichi, ushijima, daichi, terushima and kita. that sentences strikes something in you, but you're not quite sure what.

"listen guys, I'm not sure what you're here for but i-"

they pay no mind to you as they get comfortable on the other side of the room, one of them setting up the computer, the other setting the projector.

irritation starts to surge through you again, feeling disrespected that these boys just barged into your space, took over your equipment and shushed you.

"why are you even in here, what question would you guys possibly have had to ask me that would need a whole room to discuss it in and my projector?" you ask but receive no response. instead, bokuto closes the blinds and oikawa prompts a chair in your direction for you to sit on.

oh.

due to the room being dimmed, the projector, which you didn't know was on, reveals a video about to be played. it is quite hard for you to make out exactly what the video is all about because of the dim screen.

a voice. someone speaks up, "spring break, march the 24th, ring any bells so far?" kuroo asks, stepping forward.

march the 24th? anything could have happened on that day how am I supposed to remember-

"saturday night" oikawa adds on. you look down trying to remember, trying to think. you spent most of your spring break at home so what was so special about saturday night?

at that particular thought, it hits you. you immediately feel all life, blood and confidence flush out of your face as a wave of uncertain coolness tickles through your bones. they couldn't know. Hhow would they anyway?

"i don't know what you mean i was probably studying-" you say trying to play it off only to get interrupted by daichi.

"should we rejog your memory sweetheart? the house a couple blocks down was hosting a party. "

"and? i don't even go to parties."

"you don't but you did that one time, getting so drunk."

shit.

maybe if i deny, deny deny they'll leave me alone.

"i don't even know what you're talking about. you're lying and you have no proof of anything. this is stupid i'm going." you say, feeling a couple of millilitres of confidence restored within your blood.

as you stand up to leave Ushijima finally plays the video. The one you're dreading to see.

"is this thing even on? ugh, whatever." It's you, your naked body appears on screen as you back away from the camera, drunk giggles leaving your lips as you stumble towards the other intoxicated guy on the bed.

you climb on top of the naked male with reddened eyes. the both of you begin kissing and not soon after your start rocking your hips back and forth as he guides you by placing his hands on your ass. "oh fuck." your moan comes out slow and slurred as you slightly tilt your head back. your hand reaches for the roll of weed on the window sill. after a long inhale, you tilt your head up and breathe it out through your nose and mouth.

"that was fuckin hot," the male says, his fingers rubbing your now-hardened nipples.

completely taken back you draw your attention away from the video and to the boys in the room with you. the energy of their smirks radiated off every single one of them. " H-How did you?"

"we have our ways, "oikawa says, showing you his phone screen. "all we had to do was start from there and dig our research deeper." you're feeling sick, your stomach drops deeper and deeper.

i don't understand. why?

"i'm sure you know who we are by now y/n, and i'm sure a smart girl like you can figure out that we always get what we want." oikawa adds.

"what are you gonna do blackmail me?" you scoff, crossing you arms, desperate to gain any form of power back.

"precisely."

"good luck with that."

ushijima steps forward from the dark, "we don't need luck, we have our resources to get you to do exactly what we want from you."

"and what exactly do you want."

"to have a little fun." bokuto chirps in, a seemingly innocent smile.

"fun?"

"fun! it's all just fun and games after all."

"is this some sort of joke? God." you feel hot, you feel butterflies, you feel nauseous. you want to cry, you don't know why they're doing this. it all feels like some cruel joke.

"if this was a little prank would we have gone this far?" as if he can read your mind terushima answers your dying questions. "we're serious y/n, and you'll do as we say or else the real principal can know what a filthy slut you are and you can say goodbye to your dream school."

"you don't get to call me a fucking slut you bastard."

"feisty now are we?" kuroo chuckles, a sick, sadistic smile twisted on his face, reeling in pleasure from your downfall.

daichi steps in, aiming to calm your agitation down, "play nice and no one needs to get hurt. what do you say?"

to no avail, your quick temperament controls your tongue, "i say to hell with you guys. fuck you guys honestly."

"i didn't know you were so eager to throw your perfect records and perfect life behind. All those grades, clubs, sports all for what y/n?" terushima jeers. it hits you like it never has. failure to adhere could lead to all of it being gone, in an instant. permanent life alteration, and permanent loss of self-esteem. permanent exiled from your own mother.

you voice, meek and feeble, speaks up, "what do you want me to do? how long does this last?"

"we want you to have sex with us for till graduation."

"you want to exploit me and besides that's so far away."

"no can do."

"can't you take it back or-"

"rules are rules."

"now, we're giving you a choice, to accept or to not accept is up to you. the consequences you face based off either action is all dependent on you." the options lay in your palms, ready to be picked but it's clear which option you've been given the 'autonomy' to choose.

a single tear finally managed to escape past your walls, rolling down your cheek as you let out a signal sob. your hand rushes to cover your mouth, utterly embarrassed of being forced so low. you hair droops in front of your face, shielding it from the shame as you hiccup another pitiful sob or two. it is almost heartbreaking, but they don't care enough to give up their fun. with a forced, shuddery sigh you respond

"i'll do it."

you're their property.

.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲 ‧₊˚ ⋅.⋅˚₊‧ 🜲

(please send a dm or comment on my the pinned blog to join.)

taglist: @slutkoo

𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫…

[violenteconomics]

First year gang but it’s an au where they’re ghostbusters

anything 4 u, baby. (gonna be real with you, though, i have never seen a single ghostbusters movie, so some of this is just based off of preliminary research, lol)

okay, so it's a TWST event based on that one old mickey mouse short "the haunted house" and the actual "the haunted mansion" ride at disneyland. there's this old, decrepit house on school property that used to be its own dorm -- we're just gonna call it "skaladare". however, after an undisclosed accident nearly a century ago where all the dorm members died simultaneously, it shut down and is now the most dangerous place to be on all of campus. for this reason, demolition companies don't want to go anywhere NEAR this thing, so it's just been chilling in its pocket dimension for a while.

you can see where this is going.

the first-years originally think they're just going into skaladare to get the cinders cloak that used to belong to the old housewarden, which has great magical properties -- which is partially true, if nothing else. that idea degrades over time, though, as crowley gives them ghostbusting outfits, magestone equipment (proton packs, containment units, etc.), and even gives grim a funny pair of ecto goggles. ("you probably won't get in any real danger, but i'll give you all this stuff anyway because i'm just so darn kind---")

(the housewarden of skaladare, named gale roths (a pun on the term "gale rots"), is twisted from the grim reaper from the mickey mouse short, btw.)

as soon as they get there, the door closes in on them and they're locked inside. luckily, they're met with the ghost of a former skaladare first-year named gabriel hauntings (for... obvious reasons), twisted from the ghost host from the haunted mansion ride. he's pretty friendly as far as most undead go, though (if extremely sassy and sarcastic, but i guess being stuck with nothing to do but crossword puzzles will do that to you).

gabriel can't remember how he died, but everyone else does. and he can tell you that everyone has been extremely aggressive after they woke up as ghosts, so the first-years better watch their backs. after a bit of threatening by epel and manhandling by sebek (which everyone is deeply confused by, because he's supposed to incorporeal, sebek is there something you want to tell us--), gabriel agrees to guide them through the mansion to the housewarden's bedroom, where the cinders cloak is.

they fight through a bunch of skeletons and ghosts, and as they continue through the halls, talking to old paintings on the walls and random scraps of memories gabriel regains, they slowly piece together the story behind skaladare's mass extinction.

as it turns out, skaladare used to be the worst-ranked dorm in the whole school -- in grades, definitely, but also in the fact that the dorm was literally falling apart, and no matter how much housewarden roths begged for repairs, the headmage at the time (who i'm just going to assume isn't crowley) refused to spend money on what the entire school saw as a lost cause.

skaladare lost every spelldrive match they were ever apart of, they were cut out of school-wide field trips, the teachers looked down on skaladare first-years the moment they stepped into the classroom, and getting sorted into skaladare was basically a death sentence (*hint hint*, *wink wink*)

being the housewarden of this awful place was already bad. combine that with the housewarden's already ongoing issues (we're just going to assume they're similar to riddle's), and he overblotted in no time at all. except this time, there was nobody who could stop him -- and he wound up killing every single person in skaladare. the reason gabriel doesn't remember any of this is because he was sleeping when this happened, which is why he describes the process of becoming a ghost as "waking up".

blah blah blah, the first-years have to deal with another overblot, can you believe it? except this time, gabriel is going to battle with us after hanging back this whole time (yes, he can get a card, too). and at the end, gabriel and gale and everybody else can move on to the afterlife. gale gives the first-years the cinders cloak, the freshmen and gabriel have a tearful goodbye, and they leave up into the great unknown after one last twistune.

even if this is a twst event and those are usually pretty goofy, let's say that this ending has our freshmen thinking about how this school and their own dorms might actually kill them one day.

as for cards, i'm gonna give jack and sebek the ssr cards ('cause let's be real, they deserve it at this point), deuce and epel can get the sr cards, and (i'm so sorry) ace and ortho get the r cards. and since gabriel is our event guest, he also gets an ssr card.

[broodparasitism]

Everything I've Learned About Querying from Talking to Agents (And Traditionally Published Authors)

Disclaimer: I'm UK based, as was everyone I spoke to. I didn't include any country specific advice, just what I think is applicable regardless of where you live, put it might be useful to know this is from a UK lens.

As part of my course I was able to go to a lot of talks with literary agents (a mixture of literary, genre and nonfiction) and I picked up a lot of useful information - a lot of it not quite so bleak as I feared! - and thought it might be helpful to compile it for anyone looking to query agents in the future, so, here goes, under the readmore:

Querying

Remember that agents want to find and publish new authors. They're not at odds with/out to get aspiring authors. They want to work with us. This is someone you're working with, so don't pick an agent you won't get along with.

Manuscripts should be queried when they are as close to finished you are able to manage. There are a few agents that are open to incomplete manuscripts, yes, but many more that flat-out refuse unfinished work. Manuscripts generally go through about ~15 rounds of edits before landing an agent.

Send query letters in batches - around five or six at a time. There is no limit to how many agents you can contact, but you can't contact more than one agent from the same agency, so make sure you've selected the most suitable one from each.

In most cases you can't submit the same manuscript to the same agent twice - so having it be as finished as possible is all the more vital.

Some of them will take a long time to respond. Some never respond at all. If it's been three months of nothing, it's safe to assume that's a rejection.

One agent said she took on about two new authors a year, which likely isn't true for them all but is probably a reasonable average. For all of them, the amount of queries they get can be in the three digits a week. I can't emphasis enough just how many they get. I take a lot of authors to mean that means it's a 0.001% chance and despair, but that assumes each manuscript has an equal chance, and they don't. Correct spelling and grammar, writing in a genre that appeals to the agent, quality sample chapters and respecting the submission guidelines (more on this later) improve the odds by a significiant amount.

One agent said he rejected about half of his submissions from the first page due to spelling and grammar mistakes and cliches, for perspective.

You'll need to pitch your book. If your book cannot be pitched in three sentences, that's a sign it has too much going on and you'll need to do some pruning.

Please don't panic if you cannot come up with an accurate pitch for your book on the fly - you're not supposed to be able to do that. A pitch takes many edits and drafts just like a manuscript.

Send your first three chapters and a synopsis (this should be a page, or two pages double spaced. It should not include every single plot point though, again, if major things end up not there at all, question if they're necessary for the manuscript).

Three chapters is the standard - as in, if the agent web page doesn't specify how many, that's what to opt for. If they say anything else, for the love of God listen. If there was a single piece of advice that the agents emphasised above all else, it was to just follow each submission requirement to a T.

There needs to be a strong hook in these chapters. If your manuscript is a bit of a slow burn, that's fine, but you can cheat a bit with a 'prologue' that's actually a very hook-y scene from later on.

Read the agent's bio page throughly and make a note of what they like, who they represent, and what they're looking for, and highlight this in the query letter.

Your query letter has to say a little about you. It doesn't have to be really personal information (but say if you're under 40, because that's rare for authors and they like that), and keep it professional but not stiff, they say. If you have any writing credentials, such as awards won or creative writing degrees, include them, as with any real life experiences that pertains to the content of your book. But no one will be rejected on the basis of not having had an interesting enough life.

Apparently one of the biggest mistakes for debut authors tend to be too many filler scenes.

In terms of looking for comparative titles, think about where you want your book to 'sit'. Often literally - go into bookstores and visualise where on the displays you could see it. It's really helpful if you can identify a specific marketing niche. Though you want to choose comparisons that sell well, but going for really obvious choices looks lazy. A TV or film comparison is fine - as long as it genuinely can be compared.

Do not call yourself the next Donna Tartt. Or JK Rowling. They are sick of this.

Don't trust agents who request exclusive submission.

Or any with a fee. Agents take a percentage of your advance/royalties - you never pay them directly.

In terms of trends (crowd booing), there's been a boom in uplifting, optimistic fiction, but more recently dark fiction has been rising in popularity and looks to have its moment. Fantasy and Gothic are both huge right now. Publishers also love what's called upmarket/book club fiction - books that toe the line between genre and literary.

But publishers aren't clairvoyant and writing to trends is a futile effort, so don't let them shape what you want to write. Some writing advice I got that I loved was to not even THINK about marketability until draft three or four.

If any agent requests your full manuscript - this is crucial - email every other agent you're waiting to hear back from and let them know. This will take your manuscript from the slush pile to the top, and you are more likely to get more offers of representation.

The agent that flatters you the most isn't necessarily the best. Be sure to ask them what their plan for the book is, and what publishers they're planning to send it to - you want them to have a precise vision. It might be that their vision misses the mark on what kind of book you wanted to write, and if so, they aren't the right agent for you.

Research like hell! A good place to start is finding out who represents authors you love (the acknowledgements pages are really helpful here). if you can, getting access to The Writer's and Artist's Yearbook is very helpful, as is The Bookseller, the lattr for checking up on specific agents. (I was warned the website search engine is awful, so google "[name] the Bookseller" to see what they've sold. That said, only the huge deals get reported, so it's not indicative of everyone they take on.

I also want to add Juliet Mushen's article on what makes a good query. I owe a lot to it, and I feel like it's a useful template!

Once Agented

Agents send a manuscript to about 18-25 publishers, typically. Most books will end up having more than one publisher interested.

It can be hard to move genres after publishing a debut novel, especially for book two, not only because it means it takes longer for you to establish yourself, but the agent that may be perfect for dealing with manuscripts for book one might not have the skills for book two.

Ask the agency/publisher about their translation rights, their rights to the US market, and film and TV rights. Ask also what time of year the book is going to come out, if being published.

It's less the book agents are interested in than it is you as an author. You will be asked what you're going to write next, so have an answer. Just an answer - you don't need another manuscript ready to go. One author said she flat-out made up a book idea on the spot, and she got away with it - just have an answer. (This is also useful to put on the query letter.)

Caveat that this is, of course, not a foolproof guide to getting a book deal, nor is it in any way unconditional endorsement of how the industry works - I just thought it would be useful to know.

[unreliablesnake]

Forbidden love (Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader)

Summary: Soap fell in love with you and Ghost was there to support him as he tried to win over your heart. What he didn't expect was falling in love with you himself--and you returning his feelings.

Warning: No warning. A little angst. The end is fluff. Soap was supposed to find them but I don't want to hurt my boy.

Shortly after you joined the team, Soap became obsessed with you. He followed you around like a lost puppy, always eager to have a conversation, always ready to help when needed. He became your friend, a confidant you could trust during your missions.

He often told certain things about you to Ghost, as if he was the annoying little brother who couldn't shut up about his latest crush while also asking for the advice of his more experienced big brother. The lieutenant didn't mind in the beginning, he was aiming at giving Soap as much help in this situation as he could.

Ghost could only hope the sergeant's advances wouldn't ruin your teamwork. After all, Price kept working with Gaz most of the time and left Soap and you under his command. It didn't take long for the three of you to build a great little team, and Ghost didn't want to lose that over some stupid heartbreak.

But as it slowly became obvious Soap's efforts were fruitless, the mood started to change. The Scot began to feel depressed, his replies usually shortening to one word or a single sentence in your presence. When they were alone, he often talked to Ghost about how sad he was because of your indifference.

"Being friends with her isn't enough," he once said on the brink of drunkness. "But every time I make a move, she ignores it. She brushes it off and acts like it was either a joke or nothing even happened."

Ghost patted him on the shoulder before taking a swig of his beer. What was he supposed to say to that? 'Don't worry, she'll come around eventually?' Or 'she might not even realize you're flirting with her?' Neither of these sounded right, and in all honesty, he wasn't sure he could be supportive in this situation.

Because there was a problem. Ghost wasn't only talking to Soap. He talked to you as well. And the more you talked, the more he began to like you. You were disciplined, hard-working, kind, funny, and definitely easy on the eyes. You had everything he was looking for in a woman.

He couldn't let Soap find out, but with time it became a bit hard to keep his feelings a secret. His eyes often found you, like when his gaze was fixed on you as he drank his morning tea. He would have given up everything to have a chance to kiss you and hold you close. He wanted to know how soft your skin was, how your lips tasted.

One night, a few months into his suffering, he couldn't fall asleep. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw you being happy with him, either out on a date or in his bed. But that wasn't real and there was very little chance that it would ever become reality which made it a hundred times worse. So he didn't sleep, instead he went outside for a walk in the chilly night air.

He closed his eyes and let out a groan when he saw you lying on a bench, looking up at the night sky. He should have turned around and walk somewhere else but something drew him towards you. "All by yourself?" he asked when he got closer.

You sat up and gave him a sweet smile. "The stars are beautiful out here," you replied.

"Stargazing? Nice. Mind if I join you?"

"Some company would be nice," you admitted as you moved a little so he could sit down.

Ghost leaned his head back and looked up. You were right, it was a beautiful sight. But when he looked back at you, he realized these stars couldn't compete with you. "Do you know the constellations?" he suddenly asked. Back when he was a kid, he loved to learn about them. It was his way of escaping all the terrible things that were happening in his life.

"Not really. But I remember some ancient Greek stories about them."

"Can I tell you a secret?" You nodded and he leaned a little closer as if it was some conspiracy. "I feel like I was Orion."

You laughed in the most adorable way at this. "What? The woman you love might accidentally kill you because of the tricks of a jealous brother?" you asked incredulously.

If Soap found out he loved you, who knows what would happen. "There's a small chance," he said in the end.

"You have quite a wild personal life then, lieutenant."

Ghost shrugged. "I'd call it complicated."

The two of you sat there in silence, looking at the sky and appreciating the view. But after a while he noticed out of the corner of his eye that you were watching him with a concerned look on your face. He took a deep breath then turned to you with a questioning hum.

"Johnny seems to be under the weather lately. Or is it just me?" you asked.

"No, he really is."

"I asked him what's wrong but he just forced a smile on his face and said it was nothing. I thought we were friends."

Friends? Oh, you couldn't be more wrong. Maybe it was time to find out the truth. What Soap did was unhealthy, he should have given up trying a while ago. Being friends was still better than not having you around at all, he should finally understand that.

So Ghost inhaled deeply and looked at you again. "There's something you should probably know about him. He doesn't necessarily see you as a friend. Along the way he fell in love with you, but lately he realized you don't have the same feelings for him."

"I didn't know," you said quietly.

"Yeah, I had a feeling you just didn't notice the way he kept flirting with you."

Laughing, you scratched the back of your head. "I'm terrible at that. Always has been."

Under the mask, Ghost couldn't help but smile. You were so cute when you were embarrassed that he just wanted to reach out and pull you into a slow, soft kiss. Just to help you relax a bit. No big deal.

But no, he couldn't even think about that. You were off limits.

"Simon, there's something I need to tell you," you suddenly spoke up, your voice surprisingly serious.

Fucking hell, what were you doing to him? Just hearing his name roll off your tongue so sweetly made him feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside. "Ghost. Riley. Lieutenant. Call me anything but Simon," he said sternly, hoping he would never have to go through the torture of hearing it again from you.

You tilted your head to the side a bit as you tried to figure out why he had a problem with this. "But that's your name."

"Don't push your luck, sergeant."

"I'm sorry, Sir. I just thought--"

"Don't think," he snapped.

Gulping, you moved a little away from him on the bench. "Did I do something wrong?" you asked cautiously.

Letting out a sigh, Ghost looked away. "You didn't," he replied, unable to look you in the eye after his outburst.

"Then why are you so harsh with me?"

"I have my reasons."

"But you won't elaborate, I guess."

"No," he confirmed.

Deafening silence fell between you after his answer. You got comfortable on the bench, leaning back and looking up at the sky again as if he wasn't even there. Suddenly he began to feel lonely, even though you were sitting right there next to him. Well, physically you were there, but your mind was up in the sky by now.

He was thinking about going to bed despite being sure he wouldn't be able to sleep now. But something told him looking at the ceiling would be better than ruining your evening with his presence. You had been here first, it was him who had to leave.

When he began to stand up, you suddenly broke the silence without looking over at him. "I'm gonna ask Price to let me transfer somewhere else," you said.

"You want to leave us?" he asked as he sat back down.

"Yes. I've been thinking about it for a while."

"Why?" But you didn't answer. You didn't even turn to him. With a groan he grabbed your chin and forcully made you look at him. "I need to know the reason," he told you.

"Personal reason."

Personal? What could that be? "Did Johnny do something stupid?"

"He didn't do anything," you replied, giving him a pointed look for accusing the fellow sergeant.

"Then why?"

You shook your head as much as you could while he held you tightly. "It doesn't matter."

"It matters to me. Am I the reason? Did I say or do something?"

"You're my superior," you said, as if it would explain everything. Ghost gave you a questioning look, but you just shrugged. "That's all."

"I don't understand." Nothing. You remained silent. "Y/N, I'm begging you, tell me."

"I," you began hesitantly before falling silent again. "Oh, fuck, I could just as well tell you since I'm leaving. I shouldn't have feelings for my superior, that's it. I'm so sorry, I can't help it. It would be for the best if I just left."

He shook his head and moved his hand from your chin to your cheek. Even though he still had a hard time accepting that he did hear you say this, his brain worked on autopilot as he said his next words. "Don't leave. Please, just stay here. We'll figure something out," he added as he caressed your soft skin.

"Ghost, I really like you," you began, leaning into his touch. "Every time we talk, I find something new I love about you, and this hole I'm digging for myself is getting way too deep. I can't get out anymore and it slowly ruins my life because I can't think and can't breathe without you."

"Then I'll be your ladder. Look, I… I've been harsh with you because… God damn it," he cursed angrily before pulling his mask up to his nose and closing the gap between you to kiss you passionately. "You're driving me crazy," he muttered against your lips.

You giggled into the kiss before finally leaning back a little to look him in the eye. "That wasn't my intention."

"Trust me, you don't have to do anything for that result," he informed you as he pulled down the mask.

"What are we going to do now?"

"What do you mean?"

You shifted on the bench so you were now lying on your back with your head resting in his lap. "You're my superior, we can't be together," you explained as you reached out to intertwine your fingers with his.

"We will keep it a secret," he said with a shrug then buried his free hand in your hair.

"And if someone finds out?"

"We'll be careful."

"Johnny will pick up on it. We work together all the time, he will notice if the way we communicate changes," you pointed out.

"Then let's make sure he won't. Just trust me, okay? And don't you dare talk to Price about transferring," he warned you, making sure it didn't come out as an order.

Ghost couldn't believe it was happening for real. Just a couple of minutes ago he was trying to push you away for your own good, and now he was sitting there hand in hand with you. How in the hell did this happen? But it felt right, as if the two of you had been heading in this direction all along.

He moved his hand out of your hair and began to stroke the skin on your neck absentmindedly. The two of you began to talk about silly little things to pass the time, and his face began to hurt from smiling so much as he listened to you. He wondered how he could deny having feelings for you for this long.

It was so easy to love you, came as natural as breathing. And he never wanted to let you go.

[homunculus-argument]

I have no idea whether this was something that was supposed to be taught in school, or who's supposed to teach that to you, but a lot of the time when people make a statement, they mean "this is the general norm/the statistically most likely option/a trend that is so consistent that it's safe to predcit an outcome based on it", and not "this is the absolute truth that always happens every single time no matter what". I don't even get what kind of value the latter kind of sentence could possibly even have, a statement that is so absolutely true at every context that it has no exceptions at all ever would be so beyond stating the obvious that you'd contribute nothing to the conversation by stating it.

I genuinely don't understand where that sort of thing is supposed to be taught. I don't remember hearing that at school, I don't remember being taught that at home. The concept just slowly gathered into my brain from somewhere, the ability to think: "Okay, this person said that X people generally do Y. I am a person who is X and does not do Y, but most of my peers who are X are active in Y, and the ones who are not X are generally averse to doing Y. As I am still very clearly X, my status as one is not being disputed, I am simply a statistical outlier as one. This person is not incorrect."

Having beef on reddit about whether short men fight people. Someone made the claim that most short men do not start fist fights, because they know they're going to lose. People who don't know how to fight just don't fucking fight, makes sense to me. So if a guy who's small as hell is trying to start a physical fight with you, it's possible that he knows how to fucking fight, and you're better off not taking that risk. This all sounds like completely sound logic to me, you wouldn't play russian roulette just because 5 of the chambers are empty, doesn't mean it's worth the one chance it's not.

And this one spectacular fucking specimen pops up claiming "this is all completely wrong, I've never seen something so fucking wrong in my life, every single part of that claim is incorrect. I'm a short man who's been to a lot of fights, as is my father and all of my male friends, and this is not at all how it works in real life." So I asked him what's the deal then, because all of this sounds logically sound to me. And it turns out that this dude who's small as hell just keeps fucking starting fights and losing every single one of them.

Most short men who can't fight start zero physical fist fights per year. Gets-His-Ass-Beat Georg who is the tallest of his squad at 5'6, starts 15 fights every day, and is about to catch my tiny fucking hands too, is an outlier who should not have been included.