#I promise I will get to it I’m just literally trapped at work most the time

[weeklylilia]

018

I’m literally at work all the time atm so you can get an older drawing I made (while at work lol).

[meiieiri]

when do we get to see megumi in your new series ^3^

𝐛𝐞𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬 ! [toji fushiguro]

synopsis: “you really are your mother’s son,” toji grumbles to megumi as the little brat yet again refuses another kiss from him.

pairing: toji fushiguro x f!reader | art: @/amulin67 on twt/ig | hidden inventory: the lost tapes series masterlist

warnings: n/a | a/n: finally welcoming megumi to this series, yay! 💓💞

“I’m just gonna go nap for a bit. Promise me you’ll wake me up if something happens. But either way, his bottle is over there, just heat it up when he gets hungry and you know where his diapers are—“

You are interrupted by a sweet kiss that still manages to catch you off guard ‘till this day.

“I wasn’t done, you know.” You place your hands on your hips, shooting him a warning glance. “And don’t you go tossing him too high. Need I remind you, our apartment has a literal ceiling fan—“

“—You worry too much,” Toji cuts you off again with another kiss. “Not gonna lie though, seeing you all worked up like that is kinda turning me on.”

“You’re horrible,” you conclude. Honestly, at this point, almost anything and everything you do can be classified as a thirst trap for Toji. You blush when Toji inches closer, his hips pressed against yours, a smirk plastered on his face when he sneakily squeezes your ass causing you to yelp. “Ah! Toji!” you swat his hand away, burying your blushing face in his chest.

Chuckling at you, he plants a soft kiss on your temple as he pulls away. “Alright, mama, go get some rest. I’ll hold down the fort.”

“Thank you.”

No one ever told you that motherhood would be so stressful. Which is why you’re so blessed to have a supportive husband who may have started out a little awkward with caring for your newborn son but gradually became a natural with this whole fatherhood business as time went by. And that’s mostly because when Megumi arrived in this world at half past two in the afternoon of December 22 with nothing more but a small hiccup as he slipped into his papa’s waiting arms, Toji fell in love. And you don’t pretend to not know why. Because whenever you look at Megumi, your heart always just seems to melt at his pudgy rose-colored cheeks and his deep expressive green eyes that fill up with tears regardless if he’s crying or being overcome by a laughing fit whenever you pepper his tiny face with kisses.

Speaking of kisses, today’s latest fiasco is centered exactly on that: kisses.

You see, you have this habit that goes way back to when you and Toji first started dating. Toji remembers it well, you have certain moods when it comes to kisses. Sometimes, you’re the one initiating it which mostly results in Toji becoming an incoherent blushing mess, or most times, Toji gets the party started by slowly kissing up your neck, his breath hot on your earlobe as he presses his hips against yours while you slept fitfully, your hushed dulcet whines ringing in his ear as your lips instinctively find each other. Fun fact: that’s exactly how Megumi came to be.

But there are times too, when you were just not having it and you’d gently nudge Toji’s face away when he tries to kiss you.

It was a typical afternoon. Toji didn’t have work that day which was a huge relief for him because you’ve been suffering from dizziness and lower back pain all day. And being the helicopter partner and soon-to-be papa that he is, Toji keeps a close eye on you as you nap the afternoon away on the couch. He smiles softly as he sees you instinctively put a protective hand over your belly whenever you’d feel the slightest movements from the baby.

“Shhh, you’re alright,” he’d whisper to you as you slept, combing his fingers through your hair, a permanent worried frown on his face when a whimper falling from your pursed lips as the baby kicks you again. “It’s just the overgrown parasite fidgeting around.”

“Don’t call him that.” You brush his hand away, your eyebrows knitting in discomfort.

Toji chuckles, going to press a kiss to your soft lips only for you to place your entire palm on his face, applying gentle force to pry him away. “I mean, what is he then? Other than this thing that competes for your nutrients? He’s—“

“—Our baby boy.”

“—An overgrown parasite.”

Fuming at his words, you decide to hit back with a quick retort of your own. “Yeah? It really does take one to know one, huh?”

“What a cute comeback but maybe not as cute as you,” Toji smirks, his hand gently removing your smaller one from his face, his lips puckered up as he leans in. Teasingly, you place a hand over your lips, still refusing to indulge him with his much-craved kisses. “Come on, I just want one sloppy one~”

“No!” Your laughter-filled voice comes out muffled against your palm.

“Mm, yes,” Toji teases. “Yes. Come on, baby, just one.”

“You and I both know it’s never just one.”

Of course. Why else would you be in this situation if Toji knew how to spell the words: self and control? Still, it’s not like the two of you were complaining. After all, the bond you and Toji share is an unbreakable one that’s only been strengthened by time and the many trials you’ve survived together. And now, the arrival of the very product of your love is only a hair’s breath away. Toji rests his chin on top of your head, plopping down next to you and spooning you from behind. “Guilty as charged.”

And unfortunately, it seemed your son had inherited that troublesome quirk of yours and it’s beginning to break Toji’s infuriated heart because whenever he tries to give Megumi a kiss…

“Mmph—“

There it was.

Toji’s eyes shot open, grimacing as Megumi turns his head away, his eyes trained stubbornly on his dog plushie, and his chubby hands pushing his poor papa’s chin away with all the might a six-month-old like him could muster. And to top things off, he must be imagining things because newborns surely couldn’t scowl right? Their tiny little brains couldn’t possibly have enough electrical energy to charge a snow globe much less, learn how to hate certain people’s kisses.

“You little shit—“

Sure enough, the tiny little baby seems gravely unamused, his eyebrows are knitted, the corner of his lips curled into a disappointed frown as if to say: Go kiss someone else, you even bigger shit.

Toji mirrors the unfriendly scowl on his son’s face, noting how Megumi seems to be glaring at him. Oh, okay. The brat ain’t messing around, his eyes twitches but somehow, Toji is also a picture of a proud father. At least the little shit’s got spunk. And he wonders momentarily who he should blame for that.

Definitely not him, that’s for sure.

Toji doesn’t recall the last time he’s ever had the comforts of a peace like this one. Actually, this might just be the first time that Toji knew what that word meant: “peace”. A freedom from disturbance; tranquility, as per the Merriam Webster Dictionary. But Toji has a better definition for peace: you and Megumi.

But…

“I meant what I said to your mother though,” Toji engages in a one-way conversation with his son. He won’t recall any of this, but it didn’t hurt for Toji to be candid about his feelings every now and then especially when it came to this little one that came accidentally into your lives but brightened it up nonetheless. “The two of you would be better off — maybe even happier — with someone else.” He presses his thumb against Megumi’s cheek. “It’s what you two deserve.”

He’s been gone close to a whole day now and you were probably beginning to worry. Out of all the shitty things Toji has done, this, by far, has to be the shittiest. Standing outside a pachinko den, his back pressed against the wall, and his hand absentmindedly playing with the tokens he just bought. When he left the apartment that day, you knew that could very well be the last time you ever see him. Types like him aren’t keen on the whole picket fence idea of settling down.

“I’m heading out today.”

Your blood runs cold when Toji steps into the kitchen to inform you of his plans. You don’t even bother to look at him, your gaze simply settled on the positive pregnancy test on the table. The right thing to do was to stay, he should have held you in his arms and tell you that everything’s going to be okay not plant seeds of doubt in your mind by taking off and running away like a coward.

But for once, Toji was scared.

He had no business becoming a father when he’s lived in a dysfunctional household for majority of his life. What good would he even impart to his child? His pathetic existence has been a picture of disorder that was only recently resolved when you came into the picture. Well, if he were being completely honest, he still hasn’t figured things out quite as well yet. And as a father, that could be catastrophic for a child that required stability if nothing else.

Frowning, Toji leaves the pachinko den, chucking the tokens in the trash. It was far too early in the day to be hanging around shady places like these anyway. He wanders the streets for a good while, his hands buried in his jacket’s pockets as his mind swirls with thoughts about the all too terrifying future.

A pang of guilt strikes his heart and he wonders what you’re doing now. You must still be in the kitchen, your face buried in your hands as you try to think of something. You were probably assuming he wasn’t coming back. After all, you did say: “I don’t wanna pressure you into staying, Toji. You deserve to live your life the way you want it.”

A life without you? Sounds pretty miserable.

Toji must have been walking on autopilot because for some reason, he unknowingly finds himself in front of a bank. Mizuho Bank, Toji reads the sign, his eyes flicking over to one of the posters plastered on the window about opening a savings account.

He looks at the promotional material, transfixed at the picture of a family of four donning on those typical wide stupid grins in ads, the father is holding a hundred yen bill and is seen dropping it into a piggy bank that was filled with both cash and words like: health insurance, family vacation, utility bills, rent, tax, school, and…happiness.

…

…

…

Toji returns to the apartment at around eight in the evening after making a quick stop at the supermarket and the pharmacy. He finds you asleep on the couch, your cheeks stained with dry tears. He crouches on the edge of the couch, worriedly taking in your appearance. You’ve been crying. “Hey…hey, wake up,” he gently shakes you awake and your tired eyes flutter open. “Got you something.”

He holds out a shopping bag, chock full of fresh produce, and from the pharmacy, some camphor oil to relieve your symptoms and those folate supplements the attending pharmacist kept yapping about.

“You didn’t leave,” you said, bewildered. “I thought you—“

“—You thought wrong,” Toji says firmly. He pulls out something from his back pocket and you stare at him, perplexed.

“A bank passbook?” You open it to see that Toji had just made his first deposit amounting to fifty thousand yen earlier today. “You opened a savings account?”

Toji nods, looking a little proud of himself. “Yeah,” he tries to play it off with a shrug of his shoulders. “Every week, we’ll be depositing fifteen thousand yen in that thing. Ten thousand for your maternity needs, and five for the little brat’s schooling one day.”

Tears spring to your eyes upon realizing that Toji was here to stay. “You mean you’re—?” You are cut off by a warm kiss on your lips, and you place a hand over Toji’s chest, your fingertips gripping the fabric of his shirt as his lips move against yours. He pulls away after a while.

“Gonna spite the hell out of the Zenin clan and send my brat to the most expensive preschool in Tokyo? Yes, I am.”

Toji sighs, his thumb rubbing across Megumi’s chubby cheek. “But maybe — just maybe — hear me out and don’t you give me another glare.” Megumi’s not gonna remember any of this. After all, memories begin when the brain can fully register speech. But Toji felt the need to say this so, subconsciously, his son will understand just how much he’s done and he’s willing to do for the both of you.

“…Maybe I deserve the two of you too, you know.”

Megumi looks up at his father, curiosity gleaming in his eyes. Toji sticks his tongue out at the little one causing the latter to…hiccup? Nah, Toji was sure that was a giggle.

Smirking, Toji leans down to give his son a kiss, thinking he’s patched things up between them now only for Megumi to curl up again, his feet and hands resisting against Toji, his lip downturned in effort as he pushes him away yet again. Conceding, Toji grumbles, rubbing the spot where Megumi roughly pushed him away.

“You really are your mother’s son.”

[harmonicakai]

Like Real People Do

Pairing: Gyuvin x Reader

Summary: You find yourself falling for the cute boy whose writing assignments you proofread, and discover that your lives have been intertwined for longer than you thought.

Tropes: tutor!reader, basketball player!gyuvin, writers, soulmates, college AU, fluff

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: literally none it’s so cute

A/N: This is a formal apology for my Beomgyu angst <3

“And isn't it just so pretty to think All along there was some Invisible string Tying you to me?” —Invisible String, Taylor Swift

Gyuvin certainly doesn’t need any help with English, but it gives him a good excuse to spend time in between classes and basketball practice staring at you.

If anything, your talents would be better suited to helping one of his classmates understand all the old poems or crazy novels that they get assigned, but he’s the one who lucked out when your former professor suggested you read her most promising student’s work.

From the first draft, you were hooked, and had somehow started a writer’s circle where just the two of you meet weekly to share your works in progress. 

In no time, you’ve helped Gyuvin become one of the top students in Writing 101, and he’s worried you’ll notice that he’d be just fine if you stopped helping him. Still, the A’s keep rolling in and you keep meeting up with him anyway.

When Gyuvin’s latest short story gets nominated for a departmental prize, you’re over the moon for him.

“You are so amazing,” you smile up at him. “We should celebrate! That’s a really big deal. I was nominated last year, but didn’t come close to winning.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” he points out, looking down at the ground and rubbing the back of his neck. “Really, Y/N. If I win, it would be just as much your prize as it would be mine.”

“Don’t be silly,” you say, packing up the rest of your lunch. You usually only see him in the library at your designated meeting time, but today, he sought you out in the courtyard to make sure you were the first person he told. “I’m just the editor. All of the ideas came from you. Plus, I’m only good at English because I grew up speaking it. It’s much more impressive for you to have learned it recently and write at the level that you do.”

“You don’t give yourself enough credit, Y/N,” he replies, helping you up off your picnic blanket. Before you can do it yourself, he’s already reaching down to fold it, his long arms handling the fabric with ease. “You’d write circles around me any day.”

“I don’t want to get into another compliment war,” you giggle, swinging your backpack over your shoulder. Recently, it’s been filled with way too many books, and your classes are so jam-packed that you never have time to run back to your room in between them.

“Here, Y/N, let me,” he says, taking your backpack from you. He’s already got his own on, but he wears yours over his front, barely even flinching at the extra weight. “Where are you headed next? I’m done with my classes for the day, so I can walk you.”

He’s always been desperate to ask you to hang out outside of your brainstorming sessions, but every time he thinks he’s worked up the courage, you’ll laugh or smile or even just glance at him and his brain short circuits.

“I have a music class across campus in thirty minutes,” you reply. “Don’t you live the other way, though? You really don’t have to walk me. It’s pretty far.”

“I want to,” Gyuvin reassures you. He offers his hand. “Here. I walk pretty fast, so let’s make sure I don’t leave you behind.”

You hesitate for a moment before taking it. You’ve had a crush on Gyuvin ever since the two of you first crossed paths—he’s the literal embodiment of sunshine trapped inside a cute boy—but things have only ever been friendly between the two of you.

His hand is big, wrapping itself around yours almost entirely. The walk is silent, although you swear you can hear your heart about to beat out of your chest as you pull him along your usual route. Gyuvin makes sure to always let you lead.

“You know,” you start, still not looking back at him. “We’re kind of like Orpheus and Eurydice right now.”

Gyuvin lights up at the reference, with mythology being one of the first things you two really bonded over. “If you looked back at me, the only thing I’d probably die of is how cute you are, Y/N.”

You’re glad you’re turned away so he can’t see the bright blush that’s spread across your cheeks. His words get you so flustered that you don’t even notice you’ve stopped walking.

“Did I say something wrong?” Gyuvin asks, his voice laced with concern. He moves to face you, your height difference causing him to crane his neck down. Meanwhile, your gaze is locked on your shoes.

“Gyuvin,” you say, still refusing to meet his eye. You pull him over to a nearby bench. “Remember when I said I liked the love story you wrote the other day?”

“Yeah, I remember,” he confirms. “You complimented me on how realistic it was and I told you it was only because I based it off of real life.”

“Was it…” your words catch in your throat, unable to face the embarrassment of if you’re wrong. “Was it about us?”

“Yes,” he admits almost immediately. You finally turn to face him, greeted by a nervous look. “Listen, Y/N. I only wrote it because I knew you’d read it, and I thought maybe if you saw how good characters that were a lot like us could be together, you’d give me a chance in real life. But you didn’t really notice, or maybe you just wanted to ignore it, so I kind of abandoned all hope of us ever being together.”

You blink back at him. How could you be so oblivious? Your entire major was based on analyzing words, and you couldn’t even see that he wanted to be with you so badly that he had to write it into existence.

Words always come easy to you, except at this very moment.

“You abandoned all hope?” is all you can manage to get out. You try to pull your hand away, but he only grips it tighter.

“I tried,” Gyuvin says, his voice soft. “But you’re all I ever think about. I honestly don’t think I’ll ever be capable of writing someone who even comes close to how wonderful I think you are, Y/N. There just aren’t words to describe all the ways in which you’re special to me.”

You laugh, his words making tears well up in your eyes. “You know, I used to go to basketball games a lot before we even met, just so I wouldn’t have to feel so lonely all the time. And I remember liking your smile and the way you always encouraged your teammates. I would go home and wish I had someone like you in my life.”

“You’re kidding,” he says, taking out his wallet. You knit your brows in confusion, watching as he pulls out a small piece of paper and unfolds it. “Here.”

He hands it to you and your eyes widen at the words printed out. It’s the poem that you had published in the school’s literary magazine last spring about wanting to romanticize your life. Talking about your feelings makes you anxious, but nobody reads those publications. Except for Gyuvin, apparently.

“I liked you before we even met, too,” Gyuvin confesses. “Your poem is actually the reason I got into writing in the first place. I used to read it before all of my games, but I know all the words by heart now, so I just keep it in my wallet for good luck.”

This all feels too good to be true, but his touch keeps you grounded in reality.

“Maybe I should start coming to basketball games again, then,” you think out loud. “I stopped going because I felt awkward not knowing anybody.”

“Well, now you’d know me, and I’ll make sure the whole team gets to know you, too, okay?” The way he smiles at you, his eyes so full of light, takes your breath away.

“Really?” you ask, looking at him in disbelief. The thought of meeting so many new people at the same time scares you, but if Gyuvin likes them, you’re sure you will too.

“On one condition,” he says, closing the gap between the two of you. He tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his hand settling on your cheek. “I get to introduce you as my girlfriend.”

“Deal,” you grin, inching closer until your lips are pressed against his. You’re nervous that he’ll somehow figure out that you’ve only ever read about kissing in books, but the way he melts into you tells you that he doesn’t mind.

“You’re going to be late for class,” Gyuvin reminds you, pulling away. He desperately wants to keep going, but not at the expense of your grades.

“Class can wait,” you say, leaning in for another kiss. Your fingers lace themselves through his soft, messy hair. “I said we’d celebrate your nomination, so let’s celebrate.”

[sixosix]

ALL EYES ON YOU, MY MAGICIAN | LYNEY

please note that lyney and mc are 20+ in this series !! genshin hasn’t explicitly stated lyney’s age but there are a couple scenes where lyney talks about drinking— and i’m stating this now because lyney and mc drink alcohol for this chapter.

warnings drinking, kissing (kinda), hopeless pining, dialogue heavy orz, wc 3.8k

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You and Aether once again find yourselves in an inconspicuous meeting spot, which was just a shadowy corner of Cafe Lutece, your exchanges veiled by the guise of three friends casually eating dinner. Paimon is, of course, stuffing her mouth with the array of desserts; Aether is sipping on a drink she ordered for him, brows furrowed in deep thought, and you’re still wondering why Lyney lied to your face.

After your spar with Lyney, you realized a few things. 1) He knows more than he lets on. 2) He knows that you’re onto him. 3) He could have easily called you out on it, but he didn’t. What was his goal here? Is he playing along?

Or is he hiding something bigger than what you’re trying to go after? Magicians tend to play little tricks to hide a grander one.

Aether hums thoughtfully. “Do you believe him?”

“Definitely not,” you reply swiftly—bitterly, too, because you don’t know what you’re looking for. “I feel like I’m walking straight into a trap.”

You’re a hypocrite, but you’re essentially doing this for them, so you’re better than a hypocrite, at least.

Aether frowns, contemplating. Paimon speaks up on his behalf, fork in hand, “That's strange. Paimon thought you were close! With what it looked like when we found you talking to him.”

“Why?” you demand. It was Lyney who was getting close—literally. “What does it look like to you? I mean, to me, it's as if saying the wrong thing would prompt him to kill me himself. If he wanted to."

Aether suggests, "You should check your eyes."

You huff, stubbornly taking a huge sip of your Fonta. These things taste great. Their sweetness always left you craving it even when you don’t like drinking. Paimon, because she’s an expert, sensed your newly acquired favorite and insisted that Aether buy you one. 

“I feel kind of bad now. It seems that my blackmail is just getting in the way of your drama with Lyney,” Aether admits.

“We don't have drama,” you dismiss, which is instinctual by this point, “We just hated each other. He used to get on my nerves a lot—and turns out he doesn’t plan on stopping.”

Under the muted glow of the street lamps, your words trail off. Your gaze lingers on your palms. It is not obvious—you’d have to look closely, but there were scars on your palms. Most of them were from tending to plants and sharp tools, while the others were marks of burns. You wonder how Lyney noticed.

Aether calls for your name. You’re dragged back to reality when Paimon waves her tiny hands in front of your face.

“Right, sorry,” you laugh humorlessly, turning your hands back around. “Um, what should we do about Lord Tartaglia?"

Aether and Paimon share a confused glance. “Childe? What's up with Childe?”

“I told them that I'm under his faction as a cover.”

“Oh, that's no problem,” Aether assures, snorting dismissively. “Childe still owes me a lot—I'll tell him to keep his mouth shut.”

You glance around the area. There were only a few customers. A Melusine kicks her feet by the entrance as she digs in on her cake, a young man whose face is buried in his palms, and a little girl and her mother share a plate of Conch Madeleine. How sweet.

“Will that work?” you whisper, “I am trying to extract Fatui information. People usually get killed over this.”

Aether, with a sly grin, says, “Again, Childe owes me a lot. My magic word is Teucer.”

Feeling a little hopeful, you decide to look on the brighter side of things. A Harbinger and an Outlander by your side against Lyney and The Knave sounds more promising than years' worth of memorizing Fontaine Flowers’ textbook definitions and a rusty polearm.

“Is there anything you want to find out in particular?” you ask.

"Anything about my sister, really,” Aether says dejectedly. “I've traveled from Mondstadt to Fontaine, and only one Archon gave me a sliver of info. If you find anything, that’s all I ask for.”

Getting blackmailed by such an earnest brother is possibly the most troublesome way of getting blackmailed. Seeing such a longing expression on his face— archons, these idiot brothers caring too much and using it against your family-oriented soft spot.

“And you’ll leave Rosalie alone, right?”

“That’s our deal,” Aether says. “Though, I think Rosalie loves Paimon. You wouldn’t be able to get rid of us that easily.”

You separate ways after Paimon finishes her food. She politely and sweetly asks you to question Rosalie when she will make her next batch of dinner so they can come over. You tell her sure, but you hope not because Paimon, as cute as she is, would end up spilling a secret or two when her stomach is happy and satisfied.

Rosalie is probably waiting for you to get home. You hurry your steps.

Before you can reach the door, a tall, hooded figure swings it open and shoulders past you, not allowing you even a glimpse of the stranger’s face. When you turn, the figure has stopped and looked at you over their shoulder. You can't tell if you've made eye contact; the shadows dancing on their face make it too dark to discern their features.

Feeling uncomfortable, you turn back and shoulder the door open. You feel uneasy knowing that they had been inside Rosalie’s shop. Rosalie has a lot of lovesick admirers, ones that you didn’t hesitate presenting lousy customer service to to scare them away. 

Rosalie is humming happily as you enter, moving pots of plants around to display by the window. She brightens when you wave at her. “Y/N! Just in time—would you mind helping me replace these with the newer batch?”

She doesn’t seem to be creeped out.

You can’t help but ask, “Was that a customer earlier?”

“Mhm,” Rosalie says absentmindedly, fixing the pot in a perfect angle that would show the blooming flowers to the streets. “Bought one of our imports from Snezhnaya—you know the ones that would have died in the next two weeks or so? Our rain is no match for Snezhnaya’s snow, but they were beautiful petals. I’m glad they could be of use, somehow.”

You hum, heaving up a heavy pot of Calla Lilies onto a vacant space. “They were.”

“I didn’t make her pay because I felt terrible knowing it wouldn’t last long, but she insisted!” Rosalie wipes sweat off her brow.

You gesture at the little Lumidouce Bell by the counter, growing taller by the day. “Are we not going to display that, too?”

“We’re displaying it there—it is not for sale,” Rosalie says. “We can’t let them think I’m selling it.”

“It’s just a flower.”

Rosalie wipes off the dirt from her fingers on her apron and pokes at your nose with her pinky. “Yes, but it’s your flower.”

You feel your face warm, flattered, and endlessly endeared. “Right.”

Rosalie smiles knowingly, rising from her knees. “Before I forget—check behind the counter, will you? A package of yours arrived today.”

“A package?” You don’t remember ordering anything. You don’t think you’ve ordered anything at all your entire life.

Everything you owned was either hand-me-downs (courtesy of the House’s previous members and now Rosalie’s collection of dresses) or little things here and there with the money you earned from working in the flower shop. They were all bought and chosen, with Rosalie doing so on your behalf, with your unwillingness to step outside when unnecessary.

“It’s tall,” Rosalie says conspiratorially, “twice the size of a guitar case! Are you practicing the double bass in secret?”

“No…?” You walk behind the counter and find the package beside the door. Rosalie wasn’t exaggerating—it’s taller than you. “Does it say who’s it from?”

“I tried looking, but it only has a cute little cat drawn on it,” Rosalie says, walking past you in a flurry of ruffled skirts.

You frown at it. A cat? You inspect the bottom of the package; sure enough, it has a little cat drawn on it, winking up at you. What the hell?

“The cat is wearing a top hat, did you see?” Rosalie asks loudly to overpower the running water.

Nevermind. You know exactly who sent you this package. The double bass in question is a spear, hence its height. It’s here already? Lyney sure works fast. To think that you never escaped the ever-generous donations of the House—even now, when you aren’t an orphan there.

You sigh. You just told him you didn’t want to owe anything.

Still, you tear open the carton. It rips in a clean line, unraveling itself. You gasp at the sight of the most beautiful spear you’ve ever laid your eyes on. It’s far from elegant, the tip resembling the sharpened spine of a dragon, as if a hunter’s trophy. The shaft, fading from blood red to black on its tip as scales, feels sleek to the touch when you run your fingers through it.

A piece of paper is taped onto it, folded in half, and has the words READ ME printed in bold ink. You cast a glance at Rosalie, who’s still out of sight, then swiftly read the contents of the letter.

Come with me to the banquet tomorrow morning, with an address attached.

Your first thought is to rip it to shreds. Your second one—which happens to be the louder one—is curious about the event. Why invite you? Is this a trap? Did he want to show you something?

A banquet… You catch a reflection of yourself on the shop’s window, seeing a muddy apron, a loose blouse, and pants that most probably belonged to a man before you got your hands on it. A banquet invitation by the famous Great Magician Lyney is like a challenge to your wealth and fame, but Lyney’s not like that. Curiosity ends up winning.

“Rosalie?” you call out.

She emerges from the door. Her dress, even for gardening—unlike yours—is gorgeous and grand and definitely meant for banquets. She unties her apron. “Yes, darling?”

And that’s how you ended up getting all dolled up. Having learned your lesson from last time, you asked Rosalie to loosen your corset. This gown is larger than your previous one, fluffing around your waist and pooling by your feet in a graceful heap of velvet fabric.

You can’t help but notice the wine-red shade of Rosalie’s lips matched the skirt of the gown.

“Can I borrow the lip color you use?” you ask quietly, feeling like you’re already asking too much from her. 

You cast your gaze to the floor, too nervous to behold Rosalie’s expression. You didn’t get to see how she smiles fondly or how her eyes crinkle as you fidget on your feet. When she returns from fetching her box of cosmetics, she holds your chin and grins.

“Thanks, maman,” you try to say, with your mouth wide open and all as she paints your lips.

The brush pauses. Rosalie’s face softens. “Of course, Mon bébé. Always.”

As you enter the main hall, a man in a suit greets you with a tray of glasses in hand. He waits patiently and doesn’t leave until you reluctantly take one with a muttered thanks.

Where is Lyney?

You scan the place. The chandelier twinkles with diamonds, raining on everyone’s heads with a colorful reflection that illuminated their jewelry. Although Rosalie’s gowns were far more expensive than anything you’ve ever worn, it almost seems like it’s nothing compared to the over-the-top dresses and suits excuse of a wealth showcase.

They’re all talking and laughing with each other, sipping idly on their half-empty champagne. Feeling out of place, you tip the glass back and swallow quietly.

Its acidity makes you wince, but the taste bursts with a rich flavor. The last time you consumed anything alcoholic, it was your 18th birthday, and Rosalie slid over a glass of wine. The day ended in you throwing up on the sidewalk, but the memory is sweet. It has you going for one more sip.

The banquet-goers pay you no mind as you walk further inside. They chatter, eat, and tip their heads back to drink, but they don’t spare you even a glance. Perhaps they can smell the money off of you—which was none.

Meow, you hear by your feet.

“Oh!” you say, pleasantly surprised. You bend down to offer your hand out. “Hello, kitty. That’s a dashing hat you have there.”

The cat purrs and rubs itself on the back of your palm. Its dark fur is soft, a telltale sign of a well-groomed cat.

“Are you here with someone?” you ask politely, expecting no response, but the cat starts moving its paws and saunters off with a destination.

With nothing else to do, you obediently follow.

The cat strolls off. It brushes past leather shoes and ruffles and layers of skirts. It walks like it knows exactly where it’s going in the grand room. Maybe the little guy actually does. Its hat bounces as it trots, which reminds you of a particular lilac-eyed individual.

But you stopped following, eventually, because your eyes caught on— speak of the devil.

Lyney grins as cards fly across from one hand to another in a smooth movement. There aren't any stage props or spotlights flashing down on him, yet everyone watches with rapt gazes. That's always been his real talent: a magnet for attention by simply waving his hands. By batting his eyes, he's got everyone enamored.

For all his talk about keeping a fair distance with his admirers, you can’t blame any of them for believing Lyney’s comfort in their presence, his ease in the way they crowd him. He’s a splendid actor.

For some reason, this brings out an unpleasant feeling in your chest. It makes you want to reach out and show them what he’s truly like without a mask—but that doesn’t sound right to you, either. They don’t have to know what Lyney’s like when he wraps his arms around your personal space.

Maybe the alcohol is getting to you.

Before you can turn away, fingers clasp around your forearm and pull you against a body.

Lyney’s smiling wide, a jarring contrast to the fake one seconds ago. “You’re here!”

You get flustered, aware of his audience directing their attention to both of you. “I told you I didn’t like owing anyone anything.”

Lyney laughs melodically, kissing the back of your palm. Is he aware of all these eyes? He has to be—that’s his life’s work. Perhaps he doesn’t care. Perhaps he wants to show off as much as you do.

The air was thick the moment you entered the banquet, scents of all perfumes and roasted meats clashing and clinging to your nose, but suddenly it felt a lot more charged. Like you could faintly register the hair on your arms standing up in attention as you hold Lyney’s gaze.

“Forgive me; I missed you and had to come up with an excuse, somehow,” he says, winking up at you.

“We just saw each other two days ago,” you say.

When the tray of wine passes by once more, you eagerly draw out another glass. The faint buzz in the back of your head is not strong enough to drown out your stupid thoughts about Lyney, of all people.

The man of the hour—Lyney, because he always is—does the same. He murmurs, “You look breathtaking.”

“You should’ve warned me that the banquet would be ten times fancier than what I had in mind,” you say in return.

“And yet, even unprepared, no soul can take their eyes off you.”

You hope Lyney’s just saying that as a compliment, and it’s not what’s actually happening. You crane your neck and notice a whispering crowd as they stare at you. It wasn’t the whole truth. Even when pressed against Lyney, all eyes are on him. You face Lyney, suddenly conscious.

He doesn’t take his eyes off you, even once when his fingers reached out to fish out a champagne flute. Lyney still has that stupid smile on his face, the rim of his glass against his lips. You’re hit with the startling realization that you want to kiss him.

Fuck, what?

Your face burns, breath hitching in a way that has you choking on your drink. What the hell are you thinking? Are you out of your mind?

“I need another drink,” you say after downing your current one in half.

Lyney frowns, patting your back. His warmth sends a pleasant shiver down your spine. “I think what you need is water. How many glasses have you had already?”

You don’t want to be sober when you’re faced with Lyney. You don’t want to be sober when Lyney’s so close. “Not enough,” you say, because you don’t want to be sober right now.

The rest of the signs of intoxication start to settle as the laughter that rings somewhere from afar softens into an echo. The warm lights that showered the room seemed to glow when they rested on Lyney’s face. Though, you can’t quite tell if it’s intoxication or if it’s Lyney’s magic.

“What’s this banquet for?”

Lyney hums, taking one long sip. His lips press against the glass. “We’re celebrating father’s return.”

You think of The Knave instead, tall and intimidating when you stand across her, and wince. “She’s back?”

“Mhm,” Lyney says, his eyes tracing over your face, “has been for a while now, but the orphans decided to throw a little something for her. Can’t you tell? Half of the people in this room are Fatui.”

Oh.

You couldn’t tell, but you should’ve known. The Orphans were raised and trained to be masters of deception, blending seamlessly.

“But… why?” You’re starting to feel some weight on your tongue. 

“We needed sponsors for a party this grand,” Lyney leans in to whisper, eyes gleaming, “and a party this grand would surely attract important people who know a lot.”

You want to ask why he’s telling you all of this freely, but you catch the flush dancing on his cheeks, and it faintly registers that Lyney must be a little drunk as well.

“Lyney, I—”

“Don't worry.” He’s still whispering. You have to draw closer to hear him. “I wouldn't have invited you if ‘Father’ personally came here. It’s just us, and no one will bother you if you’re with me.”

“Then why invite me here?”

Lyney smiles playfully, posture elegant with practice yet shoulders loose with the champagne. “I thought you would have been eager to learn more about the House’s current state.”

Was this a jab to his suspicions? Or was this him trying to reach out and employ a sense of nostalgia? You’re not drunk enough for this.

“Most of the ones we grew up with were sent off to other regions. But the one hosting—do you remember Cecilia?

You remember Cecilia. You have scars that remind you of Cecilia. “How has she been? Good, I hope? No grudges against me?”

“She never held any grudges,” Lyney laughs, and he tells you all about how they’ve all been since you left.

Without meaning to, you and Lyney end up recalling memories back in the House. And without thinking hard about it, you pluck another glass, then another, emboldened by the taste and fruits of alcohol—emboldened by how each sip has you feeling light. You don’t realize it, but you and Lyney end up pressed against each other, fondly remembering memories you thought you left behind. You could never run too far.

Maybe it’s your inhibitions dissipating along with the fizz of the champagne. Maybe it’s the atmosphere. Maybe it’s when Lyney’s tongue darted out to wet his lip, the words died in your mouth, and your head is heavy and very much feeling like it wants to be caught by Lyney. With his face.

“Hey,” Lyney says, his hand trailing across your jaw. As if he’s stopping you. “We’re pretty out of it right now. Don’t kiss me.”

You scowl. “Why? you hate me that much?”

Lyney’s eyes widen. “No. Don’t—don’t pout at me like that.” He covers your mouth. “That’s not fair.”

You haven’t even realized you were pouting. You wave his hand off and slump against him, curling against his comforting warmth. You like the view of the flush on Lyney’s neck crawling all the way up to his ears.

Lyney sighs, his back leaning against the wall as he holds you. You haven’t even noticed that you and Lyney were huddled together in a dark corner. “It would’ve been easier if we hated each other, huh?” He traces his thumb over your lip, looking forlorn. “I wouldn’t have hesitated to protect my status as a Fatuus the moment you came back out of thin air.”

You want to shut him up. “You’re talking too much. Just kiss me.”

“No,” Lyney says, but he doesn’t push you off of him either. “Let’s get you water.”

Ugh. The thought of water makes you sick. You resist the urge to vomit and nuzzle your nose on his collarbone, visibly relaxing when he steadies you with hands on both sides of your hips. This is better than water.

“Did you like my gift?” Lyney whispers to your ear.

You nod against his neck. “It was cool. I didn't know how to repay you, but now… now I regret coming here.”

“Why’s that?”

You run your fingers through his hair, messing up the braid on the side of his head. “Because I want to kiss you, and you’re being annoying. The nerve you have when you’re looking at me like that.”

Lyney slumps against the wall, defeated. “Don’t just say that, Y/N. You can’t go around saying that.”

“I’m not. Why else am I all over you instead of someone else?”

You watch in fascination as Lyney’s pupils dilate. Lyney’s skin feels so soft to the touch and inexplicably warm. Why is he denying you? Surely he feels it, too. Surely he wants it, too.

“Hey,” you whisper, and Lyney trembles. “What’s—what… What are you and Lynette up to? There has to be a reason you’re here, right? Tell me.”

Lyney frowns, pulling away to face you. “What?”

But then light rolls into view, stinging your eyes at the abrupt radiance. Someone has turned the lights on, possibly the culprit of this assault and rude interruption.

“Oh, shit,” a voice says.

Lyney stiffens, hands moving protectively around your torso, shielding you from the light that floods in when the door opens.

“M-Master Childe!” Lyney exclaims, looking torn between standing up and keeping you shielded, still. He has lipstick on his jaw; you want to point at it and laugh.

“Lord Tartaglia’s here?” you ask, stumbling over his name.

“Um,” Lord Tartaglia stands frozen by the doorway, “I’ll be leaving you two to it.”

ive never gotten drunk before so idk how off i am from the real deal, but i did consult my friend who has gotten drunk so hopefully i was at least not too inaccurate LMFAOO

NO WAY NEW CHAPTER. and theyre being stupid. now ay..... TYSM FOR READIN!!!!!! and sorry if this took a while i was being stupid too and decided to rewrite a big chunk last minute. LMK WHAT U THINK

TAGLIST.

@thenyxsky @aeferkssr @1mewo1 @lacrimae-lotos @meigalaxy @hyacinth-daze @miwafei @popochakku @svasilios @heyhazelnut101 @kruinka @waveto-earth @superstar-ethereal @mxplesyrvp @achilleas-dream @episodecete @jellifizz @auranny @motherscrustytoenailclippings @lovelyevil @iawaaaaaaa @rionah @esmetrees @cherryig @kzhwaif @mystiquemare @unknownlololol @sanluvssu @blvdmrcnry @kascar-chronicle @idontevenknow129 @tarathecogsci @lunavixia @beaniedoodz @wendolrea @avalordream @egoistars @rains-mae @magnificentfireball @poemzcheng @fiannee @ask-kurayami-akura @sc4rlett-letter @xxxion

[atomicami]

overnight sensation. (smau)

✧ character intro: core four

dina x latina masc!reader

✧ summary: in which dina, a small town artist struggling to get her name out there, is set up to work on a song with you, a trap artist from the city who’s progressively becoming more famous each day. despite you and dina having distinct tastes in music, you both make an attempt to form a song together… and maybe a little more than that

overnight sensation masterlist

✧ author’s note: hi everyone! so the idea to create this fic came up in my head one day and i’ve really needed to get it out of my system so…here we are. i also wanted to mention that the reader is latina coded in this! i doubt this fic is going to get any recognition because it’s not abby or ellie but like i said at this point i’m just posting it to get this idea out of my system. however, i’ve made a lot of visuals so far so i hope that makes up for it 🙏🏻 to all my dina lovers out there, this one’s for you.

as of now, we have four main characters in this fic. i know people usually incorporate additional characters too but since this is my first smau series i thought i’d keep it simple.

so aside from reader there’s dina of course, and there’s also jesse and manny who are dina and reader’s producers. and i know it’s unusual to implement manny as a character but the reason why i added him is literally because as long as i’m aware he’s like the only hispanic character in the game LOL but rest assured he’s not a bad character in this fic. you won’t even notice he’s there i promise!!

i don’t have a lot of people on board with me posting this other than my mutuals, but i wanted to thank these two amazing writers and their works that gave me the inspiration to make this fic:

✧ @spaceshipellie for her dina x masc!reader fics (and for responding to my anon post a while back)

✧ @phantombriide’s smau fic ‘and i love her’, by far one of my favorites out there!

i also have to say this fic has by far been the one that i have spent the most time and effort in making out of all of my works, so if y’all enjoy it please like and reblog!! i’ve been working really hard on it this past month so it truly means a lot to me 🤍

with that being said, here is the character intro for overnight sensation:

tags 🏷️: @ourautumn86 @abbyscherry @bababaka @zombholic @aouiaa @whore4abby @lunawonie

let me know if you’d like to be tagged as well!!

(might delete this if it flops though idk)

[autism-alley]

i don't know if you answer asks but you're one of the few blogs still consistently posting pjo tv crit and it's been such a relief. with the amount of praise it's gotten i feel so gaslit like am i just being a baseless hater?? but no there's a reason a lot of the people criticizing the show are writers. it's a poorly written show and the more i think about it the more problems i find

like i was thinking about the way the kids in the show just know everything and how boring it is to watch, especially the casino scene, and something hit me

the lotus casino functions perfectly as a metaphor for traits associated with adhd--the need for stimulation and time blindness. anyone would fall for the casino's lure, but especially adhd kids. the fact that the show takes that away is REALLY weird to me, to put it kindly

if i were being less kind? i would say there's grounds to argue that having these characters, who are children with adhd, be impervious to something that is designed to trap people exactly like them is, on some level, erasure of their disabilities. especially since the one character who does get affected by it is the one who doesn't have the same neurodivergencies as the two who don't. the explanation for why percy and annabeth didn't start to forget themselves was such a lazy cop out and i can't believe people ate it up

i don't know what that writers' room has against literal adhd children falling for traps that are designed to trap people, but it's embarrassing for them tbh

i’m so glad to hear it anon!! i’m a little surprised to hear it too tbh, i wasn’t sure if anyone else was still. interested in discussing it? it seems like the pjo/atla fanbase overlap means most people have moved onto to the live action atla show. and while i am an atla fan, i didn��t grow up with the show the same way i grew up with the pjo books, so based on what we’d already seen/heard of the natla show before it even released + my utter disappointment and heartbreak regarding the pjo show, i decided to spare myself the watch. i would rather keep my memories of the original show untainted; what i have seen of the show resonates with people’s criticisms of the writing (and as someone who has done costuming work. one look is all you need to understand THAT criticism lmfao).

but i’m honestly… surprised? the pjo show did not get the same level of criticism as the natla show? it’s not like pjo is not also very popular with that same generation, sure, atla being a show perhaps made it more appealing and accessible to more kids, etc etc, sure. but from the fan bases themselves, size aside? proportionately? the pjo fandom is FULL of show defenders just blatantly ignoring the show’s major foundational issues if not just outright parading them around as successes, meanwhile the critics are in the minority. compare that with what i’ve seen where the complete opposite is true of the atla fandom, it’s weird!! and especially jarring to me bc it seemed pretty clear to everyone in the atla fandom the show had Issues, meanwhile the pjo fandom heard the promise from rick riordan’s very own mouth this show is going to be faithful to the series’ spirit. it’s so weird to see the wildly different responses to what i think are prolly equally bad reboot shows, with a fandom of similar demographics (clearly not the SAME demographics or the response would prolly be more aligned but you get my point). so i agree anon, i do feel a little gaslit by the pjo fandom, and watching the atla fandom’s very reasonable response to the natla show is like. whiplash. another sign you and i are not losing it lmao

as for the lotus casino, this is an excellent point! i don’t even think it can be called unkind to point out how this episode is a symptom of the show’s overall disability erasure. i would say it’s unkind of the show to erase adhd and dyslexia representation. in fact, because of the explicit promise by its creator to see that representation, i would go as far as to call it cruel to then erase it. if anything, based on rick’s promises to add more representation, i was hoping for elements like autistic annabeth confirmation, since when pjo was first written, it was based off rick’s son and his friends who were all ND, and at the time it wasn’t thought to be possible to be AuDHD, but likely some of those kids probably were (and that then made its way into the books in characters like annabeth!). that would have been the perfect opportunity to add something with the foresight of modern times, but instead we got… absolutely no disability rep from the show aside from a few short lines of dialogue as a lame-ass bone-toss to the book fans.

the pjo show’s biggest crime is its lack of spirit of the original book series, and that book series cradled myself and every other ND child or child in an abusive situation who read it. it offered us a mother who never got angry with us when we showed “difficult” symptoms. it offered us camp half-blood, the idea of a place, a home, where people like us were not just accepted, but thrived. it offered us a new world. it offered us a friend in percy jackson. i do not feel the show truly offers anything substantial. it only takes.

[darling-i-read-it]

The Mistress

Harry Gardner x fem!reader

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: smut (blowjob), cheating, sex in a public bathroom literally while his family is in the other room (who am i) 

Author’s Note: Hi love! Sorry this took so long! I feel like I went with the slightly creepy route straight into a bj lmao so I hope you like it. I don’t know how I feel lmaoo

Requested by anon, Happy to hear you're doing well, hun! I'm so excited to see your upcoming pieces because these most recent two are absolute gems 💗(I'm a big GTA and RE fan what can I saw I was overjoyed to see them 🤭)

Don't mind me with another Harry request (my sincere apologies, I'm obsessed 😌) I had this potentially spicy plot in mind - Harry x fem!reader. When he sees her being flirty with someone but cannot let his jealousy show since his wife is like RIGHT there. But still makes sure to let her know how much she upset him later on 😉 Take your time with this sweetie and if you don't feel like writing it that's totally ok too! 🤗 Thank you for gracing this site with your lovely works and making my day with them as well. Take care and have a wonderful day/night ~ Addie ❤

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

Harry’s love for his wife was obligatory. The love he had for her was necessary, to keep their family going. He had created a space where he could comfortably do his job and be seen as successful. He had the wife, the house, and the kid. He had the room to grow and the means to do it. 

But you…you were not a want. You were a need. You were alluring in his worst times, gorgeous in his best. He could watch you move for hours and wonder what it was about you that entranced him. He could picture you from the bed as you slipped your clothes on and the memory filled his entire eyesight. He could see nothing else but you when you were there. 

You were like one of the people he wrote about. You were unreal. He couldn’t live without you now. 

“You’re starring,” your voice broke him from his thoughts. Sometimes he forgot you were actually there. You sat on the side of the bed, arms moving with grace down to your feet. You put your socks on, side eyeing him. “Everything alright?” 

“Uh huh.” He was in a shitty motel with sheets that he knew hadn’t been washed in far too long. 

“H?” You sat up straight. He grabbed your hand, shaking his head. 

“I’m fine,” he promised. You pursed your lips, nodding slowly. 

“You have to get back.” The time schedule he was on was brutal. Sometimes he wondered if the life he had was even worth all this. Couldn’t he just live here with you forever? The misery of his demonic child and his never ending wife seemed like a hell he had trapped himself in. When had he wanted that? “Henry.” 

“I’m here. I swear. I just don’t want to leave you.” Your face read the emotions he was feeling. You didn’t want to leave either but someone had to. If this thing was to be sustainable, you had to go. 

“I never thought I’d be here you know,” you muttered. Even your voice sounded melodic. “In bed with a married man. Jesus. What would my mother say?” He felt a pang of guilt but not for the person who he should’ve. He had put you in this position. You could’ve been living a life with a free man, someone to show you off to the world. Instead you were in shitty hotels by the ocean, the salt coming in through broken window frames. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. You shook your head. 

“It’s alright. We’re in this boat together, hm?” He grabbed your hand and held it. The hand that had just been all over him, the hand that had felt every inch of his body. You must have been thinking about it too because you kissed him gently. A goodbye kiss. He wanted to curse, to beg you to stay. He didn’t. 

“I need to write you into a story,” he said against your lips. 

“Oh yeah? The girl who never got what she wanted?” 

“The girl who could get whatever she desired.” 

“That sounds better than my thing.” You smiled gently. “I’ll see you later?” He nodded, a promise he was sure to keep. He hoped he wouldn’t see you around town before that, for the sake of his life. For the sake of yours! You stood up. “I’m excited to read what you write me into. Hopefully a better situation than this.” 

You thought about the character of you and envied her. You would be her one day, you hoped. 

-

She was like fire if it never spread. Her silence was dangerous, the presence of her was terrifying. Electrifying was an understatement. She was the lightning that made electricity. She was the origin, the start, the very being that could bring down trees with a touch. She was-

“What’re you writing?” Doris’s voice was like nails on a chalkboard. His initial reaction scared him a bit and he tried to be more caring. 

“Nothing. Nothing, I don’t think anyway.” He shut his computer. 

“Are we still going out to dinner?” 

“Yes. Yeah, sorry, time got away from me.” He got up from the chair. Doris was standing beside Alma who had her coat and shoes on already. She was giving Harry a look of disinterest, similar to her mothers. But Doris at least tried to cover it with a feign emotion, one he couldn’t grasp. “Coming.” 

They piled into the car and were quickly arriving at a small diner. The small diners in Provincetown were stereotypical and uninteresting. There was little local color and little locals. He saw you the second he walked in, like you had attracted his eyes like a magnet. You were sitting at the counter, a milkshake between your hands. Your hair fell in front of your eyes a bit as a smile played on your face. His eyes followed to the waiter you were speaking to. A man about your age, sharing your smile. The jealousy in him was surprising. He didn’t own you. 

But he wanted to. 

You hadn’t seen him yet. Maybe he could convince Doris to leave and go somewhere else. 

“Right here. You’re the newer family right? Big house on the water?” Their waitress said, gesturing to the table. Doris had been speaking and he hadn’t even noticed. 

“Yes ma’am,” Harry responded. 

“We don’t get lots of visitors here, except for the writers.”

“My husbands the writer,” Doris explained. At the mention of the topic, you turned your head ever so slightly. Your eyes locked for just a moment, zero panic in your face. It was like you didn’t even know him. You turned your head back to the waiter behind the counter. 

“What kinds of things do you write?” the waitress asked. 

“Screenplays.” “Anything I’ve seen?” 

“Not yet,” Doris promised. You were too distracting. He couldn’t stay here with you. His phone buzzed and he knew it was you. He checked it obsessively, turning it towards him so that Doris and Alma couldn’t see. 

I’m sorry, you texted. He didn’t answer. 

“Can I get you started with some waters?” 

His eyes flickered to you. Smiling at the waiter, a gentle comradery. It made him sick. 

“Yes please,” Doris said. She watched him and his discomfort but couldn’t find the source of it. The waitress left, leaving them alone, without a buffer between him and you. He opened up his phone again, staring at the message. You should leave. Why weren’t you leaving? “Everything okay?” 

He couldn’t hear what you were saying but he could see your hand brushing the waiters. Closer to your age, likely not married. Attainable. You could have something attainable. He glanced at Doris and nodded curtly. 

“I just need to go to the bathroom.” He got up, loudly. She scoffed, nodding. 

“Okay.” He pushed past you. Your eyes followed him as he turned the corner. You looked back at the waiter. 

“If you’ll excuse me, I have to use the little girls room.” You slid off the stool with a small smile and left your milkshake. You turned the corner and knocked on the men's bathroom door. It opened quickly. It was the type of bathroom that was private, without stalls. Just two rooms. 

Harry grabbed your hand and dragged you inside. He shut the door and locked it behind you. 

“I didn’t know you would be here,” you argued. He was standing so close to you, practically pining you to the door. 

“Who was that?” 

“Who was who?” 

“Don’t act coy,” he spat. You had never seen him so angry, jealousy practically dripping from his eyes. 

“The waiter? He’s a friend.” 

“That all?” “Harry, we can't do this right now. Your family is outside. Come on, we’ll talk later.” You made no movement. He starred, at you, at your features, the ones he could always find comfort in. He grabbed your wrist. “Harry?”

“Get on your knees.” 

You raised an eyebrow but the look in his eyes was too alluring to argue. He was usually gentle and guiding through sex, always careful with you even when he was rougher. You didn’t mind the demanding tone in his voice. You slinked down the door, onto your knees. You looked up at him. 

He was gazing down at you, his hand cupping your chin. You waited to see what he would do. Was he being so daring because his family was out there? Had you crossed a line neither of you had dared to verbalize? 

You put your hands on his waistband. He nodded, ushering you along. You undid his belt and fought with his jeans to pull them down. It didn’t take long for him to get hard at the adrenaline of the moment and you sitting before him. You pumped with your hand, staring up at him still. 

You wanted to tell him the waiter meant nothing. But actions spoke louder than words. You wrapped your lips around him, eyes locked, a glaze over his. He was staring at you like you were a meal. As you moved up and down, bobbing your head back and forth, he grabbed a fist full of your hair. He started to guide you more forcefully, a jealousy lacing his touch. 

You came up for air as minimally as you could. He lasted too long. His family was going to miss him. They would see your lone milkshake and wonder which of you would leave first. There weren’t enough people in this diner to not connect the dots. 

His precum was drooling down your chin. He wanted to fuck you. He knew he didn’t have time. Instead he let you make him cum, swallowing everything you could, making an erotic gagging noise as you did so. His moans came out muffled but clear, head tilted back in pleasure. 

You wiped your mouth, leaning your head against the door. 

“Feel better?” you asked. He scoffed. He helped you up, catching you as you stumbled. He kissed you, tasting himself among your lips. He could stay here with you forever and starve happily. “You go out first,” you muttered. “I’ve gotta wash up.” 

He nodded. He stared at you for a moment longer, brushing your hair out of your face. You locked eyes and the intimacy filled up the bathroom. You wanted to kiss him again but knew you had no time. You would have to let him go, just this once. 

“Thanks,” he muttered under his breath. 

“Anytime H.” You slithered away from him. “Pull your pants up and go back to your family.”

[marinas-drafts]

much like Elvis insisted Linda Thompson on cooking his meals because she made it with “tlc”, I would imagine he would want Gigi to do the same and she would most definitely be more than happy to oblige and satisfy his craving of 2-3 burgers, smothered in his favorite toppings, at 4 am

I just cannot wait to read how this girl takes care of Elvis in the next chapter, even the less “pretty” parts of caretaking (fleets enemas ifykyk) are still so comforting to read 😭 big daddy has the biggest place in my heart and I just want that man to be spoiled and nurtured

(also I’m begging for him to get some “physical relief”, he needs to pop a viagra or two and get to work for Gigi’s sake and his)

Oh she’s on it -and it’s a good thing he likes burnt food because that’s all she knows how to make, Mary hovers in the kitchen just to make sure there is no fire emergency. But yes, you best believe this girl uses all that energy to bound down the stairs in the dead of night to fix that man whatever would cure what ails him at the moment.

Also…thank you for expressing interest in all the aspects of caretaking or honestly -loving a person where they’re at. Human bodies fail us and there’s nothing more humiliating of estranging for someone who’s been capable and impressive to suddenly be unable to count on their own carcass, or gut or brain or anything else that we aren’t promised tomorrow with. And so with Elvis, to me, if we’re doing a fic when we now know he was literally dying, we should keep it’s trappings. Do I want Gigi to ask why the hell he’s doing fleet instead of coffee when his liver is so bad? Yes, yes I do

…pop a viagra or two you say, hmm…

[artzychic27]

Harley Quinn (The show) quotes for the DC Class?

*Nathaniel and Lila are seated across from Nadja Chamack on her talk show. Nathaniel, grown to about fifteen feet is only shot from the neck down by the camera*

Nadja: Nathaniel, hon. how are you feeling about all of this?

Lila: He is devastated that the world is attacking a girl he knows is so kind, is so lovely-

Nadja: Let’s hear it from Nathaniel in his own words!

Lila: Those are his own words. I’m a telepath! He thinks it, I say it. *The audience boos at her* Isn’t that right, sweetie? He said right.

Nadja: He did not say “right”! Did y’all hear him say “right”?

Lila: Well-

Nathaniel: She was talking to ME! An individual person who exists outside of YOU!

Nadja: Get her, boy!

Nathaniel: A person who, for months, you mind-controlled-

Lila: Don’t do this.

Nathaniel: Into thinking he loved you!

Lila: Do not do this!

Nathaniel: A person who is leaving YOU! *Storms out of the studio*

Lila: Why, you get back here, you miserable [BLEEP]!

—

Adrien: *excitedly* Is this the good kinda acid that gives you superpowers?!

Alya: No!

Adrien: Awwww...

—

Marinette: I need a permit for a trap door? The whole point is no one is supposed to know about it! Especially the city.

—

Lila: *fighting Denise* OW! That really hurt, you [BLEEP]

*everything, including the Earth itself, comes to a shocked standstill*

Rose: *watching the fight on TV* Holy shit!

—

Nino: The name is Nino, actor extraordinaire recently portraying the juicy role of country boy bartending in the big city!

Lila: I thought you were playing the role of literal piece of shit.

Nino: Not yet. *transforms into Lila* NOW I'm a literal piece of shit!

—

Rose: Adrien! You can't kill him.

Adrien: You don't think I can kill a 12 year old?! Oh, okay. Well, I will smash in his face with a bat like a WATERMELON!

—

Batman: I'm gonna say something embarrassing here. I didn't have a nemesis until... my late twenties.

Zoé: Don't patronize me, dad, it's unbecoming.

Batman: It's true. I wasn't ready for one. You want your first nemesis to be special. Someone that you can see being your nemesis for the rest of your life.

Zoé: I suppose you're right, dad... When can I propose to Cosette?

Batman: I... think I hear the bat-signal. *grappling-hooks away*

—

Juleka: Quick side bar. How did this *Gestures to Nathaniel* work...in terms of making out?

Lila: Not great!

—

Juleka: So let me get this straight: you're not over your ex, and you want to throw your success in his face.

Adrien: Exactly!

Juleka: Honestly, that might be the most relatable thing you've ever said.

—

Ivan: I wish they would make a sequel to Up.

Max: No, they can’t! The story ended with the first movie.

Myléne: Unless... the kid is the old man in the sequel.

Ivan: Oh, that’s fun! That’s a good one!

—

Adrien: When my mind is set, it is set. Hell, they blew out three electricshock machines at Arkham trying to get through to me.

—

Adrien: Nice save, Jerk-Face League!

Ismael: That's not our name at all.

—

Marinette: What is wrong with me?

Zoé: You're a sociopathic narcissist!

Marinette: It was rhetorical, asshole! And who do you think you are, a psychiatrist?

—

*Marinette approaches newly-unmasked Robin/Zoé*

Marinette: WayneTech promised an electric car by this year! I put a deposit down! Where's my goddamn electric car, Zoé?!

—

Rose: Have a good life, get married, make babies. Name them Rose. The girls and boys.

Juleka: Rose!

Rose: See? It totally works. You know I love you. Bye, Jules.

—

Zoé: *in flirty tone* Wonderer, you look hot

Adrien: What?

Denise: So, Robin, are those abs real or is it just the suit? *giggles*

Adrien: Gross.

Jean: Well, these abs are definitely real. Give them a look. Don't-a be shy.

Adrien: Oh, gross! Did you just spray them with Rose’s love pheromones?!

Denise: Let’s just, uh… See who has the best abs for a moment.

Adrien: Or not! A lot of not! PLEASE, NOT!

—

Denise: *after lassoing a Parademon* I'll only ask once: where is Lila?

*Parademon screeches. Confused, Denise turns to Ismael*

Ismael: Oh, what, because I'm an alien, I understand all alien languages? *Denise’s eyes widen* OK, I know a little Parademon, but it's still a racist assumption. Be better.

*Denise rolls their eyes*

—

Rose: You... you don't think I'm chaotic, crazy and make a bunch of messes?

Juleka: No, you definitely do that. But you're trying to grow, and actually doing it! And that... I mean, for me, that is what matters!

Rose: I love you, Jules!

Juleka: *smiles* I love you too, Rosie.

—

Batman: What's with your voice?

Zoé: What are you talking about?

Batman: It's a bit... overly serious.

Zoé: I think it's an appropriate amount of... serious.

—

Adrien: How could Bruce be Batman? I mean, sure, he's the richest man in Gotham, so that explains all the vehicles, and he always goes missing at big galas when villains show up... Okay, if you come to think of it, it's very obvious.

Ismael: Wait 'til you hear who Superman is.

[yelenasdiary]

You Are

Pairing: Florence Pugh x Reader

Summary: Florence assures you how much you mean to her and comforts you when your insecurities overload your mind. 

| Fluff & Angst | 1.9K | Cyberbullying, body shaming, name calling, swearing.

Y/BF/N (Your Best friends Name) 

Prompt 12 from my list: “I’m yours, in every way possible.”

AC: Comfort Flo? Yes please! 

*This is a request from my old blog*

You were never one to let the talk of social media to get you down but sometimes it’s harder when you’re alone. Florence has left town for a friend’s birthday party. You couldn’t go with as you had promised your best friend that you’d help with moving apartments. She’s moving from a smaller one to a bigger one, she’s worked hard and you’re beyond proud of her. 

Florence and you have been together for two years now, fans and critics have been keeping tabs on the two of you since you both announced the relationship publicly. You were flooded with countless DMs on Instagram from fans wishing you both the best, some weren’t as impressed as others, but you brushed them off. Who were they to tell you who you should date or not? 

You’ve spent less and less time on social media since being with Florence, that’s one of the things you’ve loved the most. Before you met her live was a tad boring and social media kept you entertained for the most part but being with Florence? She made you forget about the digital world. 

“Thank you so much for helping again!” Y/BF/N smiled as she let you into her now packed and boxed apartment. “You literally don’t have to thank me” you grinned. There was a moving truck parked in the street with the driver keeping watch for the two of you. You grabbed a box and started the day of labour. 

“How’s Florence?”  your friend of 10+ years asked. “She’s great, she’s got a few projects in the work that she’s excited about so things are about a tad busy” you explained with a smile. “That’s great, she loves work so I can imagine how excited she is to get back out there” 

“You’re telling me!” you giggled. 

After a few hours of taking boxes down to the truck then getting the bigger items ready for the next truck load of things before driving to her new apartment and unloading the truck it was time for lunch. A couple of sandwiches and cakes from the café would good you both well. 

Naturally you’d checked your phone as we all do. A quick scroll through Instagram before you opened Twitter. Your feed was flooded with new candid photos of your girlfriend, a smile formed on your lips at the sight of her. Then the comments started showing. 

“Flo is in her single hot girl summer I know it!” 

“Single Flo??!”

“Uhm, where’s Y/n?”

“If Flo and Y/n broke up I’m literally going to throw a party! I was getting so tired of those two”

“Y/n kicking herself for letting Flo walk around looking this good, I just KNOW it” 

Were just some of the comments that you saw, you ignored them knowing the truth of your relationship with Florence was strong and these people had no idea what you and Florence share. You focused on the good, some of your other friends tweeting memes that made you forget the comments you just read. You retweeted a couple, instantly regretting it as your notifications started blowing up. 

“@yourusername if you and Florence have split, it’s for the best. It must have been hard to keep thinking you were worthy of her” one account stood out to you. Stupidly you fell into the trap of looking over their account. How somebody would waste so much of their own time to create an account to direct hate at you was beyond you. They butchered your photos, cropped you out of candids with Florence along with personal photos you’d shared before. 

“How can Flo wake up to this everyday makes me sick!” one tweet read with an attached photo of you, a screenshot of a video Florence had posted of you pulling stupid faces at her while at a family event. Your heart started to break as you couldn’t control your thumb from scrolling further down. 

“Imagine being Florence have to be seen out with this whale looking human” read the tweet that hit a little harder than you thought. You’ve had insecurities about your body for so long and you were just learning to love yourself and see your self beauty as you are, but this tweet had all those negative thoughts running back. 

Then there was a mix of photos of Florence when she was in Ibiza with friends, “Florence and Will look more in love than her and Y/n ever had. Please let this happen!!” the account tweeted along with a thread of people they thought Florence looked better with. 

“Ready to get back to it?” Y/BF/N’s voice broke your attention, pushing your feelings to the side you gave her a fake smile “give me one second, I just need to reply to this message” you said. She nodded before grabbing a box. 

“Missing you darling, how’s the moving?” Florence’s text read. You didn’t notice it before. 

“Just fine. Super busy, talk tonight” you replied before turning your phone off completely. 

You helped Y/bf/n until everything was moved into her new apartment, it was around 9pm by the time you both finished, you stay back and helped her put her bed together, so she didn’t have to sleep on the hard floor. She was extremely grateful and hugged you super tight. “I know something has been on your mind today, but I really do love you and I appreciate all the help today” she smiled as you both pulled away from the hug. “I love you too and again, stop thanking me!” you chuckled, “I am however going to go home and shower” you smiled. 

“A shower sounds so good! Don’t let me hold you back” she laughed. You said your goodbyes and headed home. Turning your phone back on once you pulled into the driveway, 10 missed calls from Florence along with serval unread texts. The lights still on in the house but you couldn’t bring yourself to face her just yet. Hurt from the words you’d read but it got worse. More tweets, more messages drained you emotionally. Tears filled your eyes, your body slightly shaking from the physical pain you were feeling. You totally forgot that there were cameras for security purposes. One faced the main gate, and another captured the driveway. 

You broke down, tears running freely down your cheeks, your head rested on the steering wheel while you held your hands over your chest. A soft knock on the window of your car made you look up. There stood Florence with eyes of worry, she opened the door and kneeled, placing her hand on your thigh gently. 

“Baby, what’s happened?” she asked. You looked over at her, your eyes red and sore before you wiped your tears away only for them to return. “It’s nothing, don’t worry about it” you cried. 

“Darling don’t give me that. What’s going on” Florence frowned with concern. Without speaking you handed her your phone. She punched in your pin code and was welcomed to the account that started your breakdown. She took a moment and scrolled through some of the vile things that were posted. “I know I should’ve read it; I know I should’ve just blocked the account but I just- “

“My love, look at me” Florence stopped you, placing your phone on the ground. You looked at her and snuffled, she cupped your cheeks and wiped the rest of your tears away. “This” she looked down at your phone then back to you “is pure bullshit. It’s crap, it untrue and all posted by somebody who has no idea who you are as a person” she started leaving one hand on your cheek, her thumb stroking your skin gently while her other free hand held your left hand. “Baby, you are so fucking beautiful, I mean that. Everybody has flaws but I love every single one of yours. I want you to know that I’m yours, in every way possible.” She smiled softly.

“You make me smile, you make me laugh, you bring me love and comfort, you are the sun on a stormy day, you are the warmth I seek when it’s cold outside, you are beautiful soul I give my all too. Theses mindless pricks don’t see the how special you are and that’s their loss. If they can’t see how beautiful and breath taking you are, they are blind.  I love you, do hear me? I love you, all of you, everything single part of you. I love you, only you” 

You looked into your girlfriends’ eyes and wondered how you could ever be so silly to question her intentions. You loved her so much and she loved you more than you’d ever know. You gave her a small nod, “I love you, I’m sorry” you spoke softly. 

“Don’t you ever apologise for the behaviour of others” Florence said before she kissed you gently but full of pure love. Showing you that nobody what anybody said, you were the one she loved more than people would know. “Now come inside, I’ve made dinner and I even got some of your favourite bath bombs to help relax your body after all that lifting today” she said before kissing you again. 

While you were in the bath after dinner, Florence took it upon herself to call out the trolls that made you question yourself. She never liked doing this but after seeing you so broken, she wasn’t having it happened again. 

florencepugh: I didn’t think I’d have to make this post again and repeat myself but some of you need to be told one final time. 

It is NOT your place to make my loving, beautiful girlfriend feel unworthy of my love. There is no need to be saying such horrid things about her. You don’t know her, you don’t talk to her, you don’t see her and you sure as well don’t feel the things she makes me feel. Y/n is my partner, my girlfriend, my sunshine, my darling, my love, you name it, she is my all. I love her. 

I don’t use Twitter and after today I am extremely grateful I don’t because the things that have been said there is sickening, disrespectful and disgusting. I’m not going to expose the account, but you know who you are. The things you’ve said do hurt, they do get read and they take a toll on not only the person you direct them too but those around them. 

This afternoon, Y/n came home and showed me what you’d said. I don’t know why you think you have any right think you know anything that goes on in my mind but let me assure you that waking up to Y/n every morning is a fucking blessing. She does this little nose scrunch before she wakes up that drives me crazy and oh lord, her morning voice? WOW! So, if that image makes you feel sick, I hope you’re next to the toilet, love. 

For those who do support my beautiful partner, please enjoy these series of photos and videos that are some of my favourites of her. It’s been over two years and I still can’t believe how lucky I am to call her mine! How lucky I am to hold her every night, kiss her whenever I feel like, show her off to the world. I’m so grateful for her and everything she does for me. Y/n, baby, I love you! 

Taglist: @red1culous | 

[martsonmars]

Hello friends! First SSS of the year for me. Also an early post because I want to write after sleeping and maybe some validation early in the day will help 💖 I have six snippets from six WIPs to share (only the fifth one written today, which makes me sad because I really wanted to share new new words, but it's okay) and I want to talk about them, so I'm throwing everything under the cut with the tags.

You can vote for the WIP you'd like me to continue the most (except Like We Had A Clue, because I know people are waiting for an update and it would skew the vote hahaha). Pick one of the other 5! Though as always I'll follow inspiration and not what the people want.

Love you all <3 hope you're taking care of yourself in these trying times.

1. First EGF WIP. I have many ideas for EGF, but considering a) possible writer's blocks, b) exams, c) other non EGF related WIPs, I honestly don't know how much I'll manage to write. This one is the most “urgent” one because it's a collab with @aroace-genderfluid-sheep and he's already done so many cool things for it and I'm so excited!!! The snippet I'm sharing is all I've written for this fic. Oh well!

“You could've at least sent us to Dante's inferno. That would've been intellectually stimulating.”

“This place is plenty stimulating.”

Of course it is. It's a fucking sex dungeon.

2. Second EGF WIP. I shared something from this already. There's hope I'll finish this one because it's short, but knowing myself I can't make promises hahaha.

“I’m sorry,” they say. Their voice is deep and smooth, like I imagine a cello would sound if it could talk. “I don’t think I can have dinner with you tonight.”

I can’t hide how much it stings. Of course my monster under the bed would come out just to reject me.

3. Like We Had A Clue. Chapter 5 is outlined in detail but I'm still struggling so much with it. Have some sentences I might have shared already in the past because I wrote them months ago!

“Are you trying to trap me, Snow? Keep me here to make food for you forever?”

“What if I am?”

I raise an eyebrow. His hand is still on my arm. He lets it fall.

4. WIP I shared from a couple of weeks ago. I want to have fun with this so I'm not forcing myself to write it, but I also really want to finish it. It's a struggle, always 🤣

(There's nothing innocent about four thousand words of Fangvald having a pity wank after Cherry spat on his face and demanded to know the true motives behind his betrayal.)

But it's fanfiction. Exploring fictional worlds and fictional characters and fictional relationships.

It would say nothing about me if he hadn't also linked two of my longest 4am rants about loneliness and deserving love.

5. Mystery WIP. I started plotting it yesterday and I've already lost steam. We'll see if it ever gets written.

25/12, 11:27AM

basiltea: Of course I'll help you.

basiltea: You can't be trusted to handle this alone and make it work.

Excalisbury: I LOVE YOU

basiltea: I'm just saving you from yourself.

6. Picture book story! The issue with this one is that I have to rewrite it completely. I have @johnwgrey's super useful notes, but I hate rewriting and editing with a burning passion, and this story needs so much work it hurts. But I'll do it!

Of course Snow had no reason to trust him. The fact that Baz had decided he’d never even try to hurt him again couldn’t erase five years of antagonism. Especially because Snow didn’t know about his change of heart. (It would’ve been ridiculous. Hey, Snow, I decided I don’t hate you anymore. Quite the opposite, instead. Can I kiss you?)

That was a lot. I feel like Simon and Baz are possessing me because I want to write SO MUCH, I literally can feel the words pushing to get out, but the second I open a doc it all fades out. Ugh. Hopefully I'll be more motivated in the morning.

So many no pressure tags for you lovelies:

@wellbelesbian @urban-sith @tea-brigade @sillyunicorn @mostlymaudlin @facewithoutheart @palimpsessed @otherpeoplesheartachept-2 @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @forabeatofadrum @fatalfangirl @prettylightsbigcity @whatevertheweather @jbrrring @confused-bi-queer @moodandmist @bookish-bogwitch @letraspal @dragoneggos @captain-aralias @takitalks @excalisbury (stealing your @ for Simon's Discord username hahaha) @otherworldsivelivedin @cutestkilla @ileadacharmedlife @gekkoinapeartree @bazzybelle @basiltonbutliketheherb @messofthejess @ivelovedhimthroughworse @nightimedreamersworld @artsyunderstudy @foolofabookwyrm-activated @ionlydrinkhotwater @yellobb @orange-peony @ic3-que3n @whogaveyoupermission @katmiscellanious @yeonjunenby @erzbethluna @larkral @chen-chen-chen-again-chen @shrekgogurt @raenestee @onepintobean @stitchyqueer @hushed-chorus

[hypaalicious]

Reclamation Algorithm, aka Passenger gets his lick back

I kinda like writing my opinions on AK side modes no one asked for, even tho this is late asf!

The tutorial for the mode sucks really bad. Skip that shit, nothing they tell you in there is how you’ll actually play 😭 That being said, I’m gonna write this assuming you’ve at least gotten the basic gist of the mode; if I break down every detail this post would be 30 pages long, and uh…

I did not like RA until I was almost done with it, lol. The grind is TERRIBLE in the beginning which is most of the problem.

BUT! I do believe it has promise as long as all the kinks are worked out; RA is def a “beta” mode and it shows. 🥴

Build your base.

This is where the grind will almost murder you. 🥲You can do this by farming for materials in Resource nodes or by cheesing the Construction Grid. If you choose the latter route, what you’ll want to do is do enough in multiple runs to get Construction Points (how many map nodes you visit, constructs you build, raids you defeat, food you make and feed your Operators adds up). Then you quit before your home base gets destroyed, go to the Road of Prosperity and focus on activating the entire second row. That will give you a total of 30 Wood, 15 Stone, and 6 Iron at the start of each run.

Then from there, all you have to do is make a Crabbie Pump, farm enough water to make a barrier or two, place them in your Headquarters, quit the run. Rinse and repeat until you have a nigh-impenetrable fortress.

The things you should focus on crafting for your base:

Firm Platform II

Urban Style Barrier II

Fortification II

Trap Net Launcher II

Level 3 anything isn’t worth the mats. Level 2 is most important for the Barriers as it gives them camouflage. Trap Nets will be your saving grace if you build yourself an Ifrit lane.

Note: due to a bug, any ranged Operator you place on a Firm Platform cannot be healed. But they also will take no damage unless the platform they’re standing on is destroyed. Also, Angelina’s passive can heal your damaged constructs, but only if you have her set on S1.

Don’t have a great mind for path-building? No problem; here’s a basic layout from a Chinese dude on Billibilli to copy:

What this does is force enemies to go the absolute longest way around to get to your HQ. This gives you time to set up your Operators at a choke point to nuke.

Choke point should look (roughly) like this:

2. Hop around nodes.

Once your base layout is built, you can switch to making Monitoring Tower II. Take and place two of those in any node to make it a Sentry that allows you to reveal up to two extra nodes in every direction around the node you’re in. This will open up the map real fast if you plan for it!

The only useless node to waste an Act on is the Conflict Node. I literally only go in them to make them Sentries if they’re in a good spot on the map and exit right out.

3. Only fight Raids at your base.

Intercepting raids in other nodes is risky because you’ll be dealing with weather debuffs and randomized stage layouts. Fight em on your turf.

Note: you can always quit the run before a Construct is destroyed and it’ll be preserved in your next one. Yay!

4. Fast-Redeploys are king.

The only time I used a “real” squad was when I had to defend my HQ in raids, lol! Anything else? I brought Texalt, Yalter, Skadi, Nearlter and that was enough to handle 99% of RA outside of base raids. The 1% are the Mountain Pass and No Man’s Land nodes. For those, I just added Mlynar 😂

5. The Lost Zhayedan boss can be cheesed with Dollkeepers.

His gimmick sucks ass, and he’s just a stat stick 😭 But basically Spalter can trickle him down because switching between forms doesn’t trigger his healing.

Note: Camouflage doesn’t protect you from his retaliation strike even if you’re not blocking him. He straight up is like

6. Can’t trigger certain endings? You may have to discard tokens.

This pissed me off because it’s not intuitive, LOL! You can get the first ending by just surviving past day 12 and beating the last Raid boss. You get the second ending by talking to Old Isin at the market, him mentioning a treasure, then coming across the Treasure Hunter randomly in a stage and picking up a Treasure Map. In order to get the third ending, you have to throw away the tokens you got from the Treasure Hunter (you gotta do this before you start a new run; it resets the storyline this way) and basically avoid talking to Old Isin first. You also have to already have completed Manticore’s side questline.

And when I say randomly? Yeah I mean RNG is gonna have you thinking you fucked up somehow. Pick the wrong dialogue option? Welp gotta wait for another random encounter to try again. Passenger ain’t show up? Keep doing runs and going into random nodes until he decides to Grace you with his presence. It’s just kinda a mess 😭

7. Making food is fun, but also not necessary to win battles unless your squad is severely under-powered.

I beat the first two end bosses without even knowing how to make dishes LMAO! The third I also will say I don’t think I needed them, but I loaded up my squad anyway just in case and I also wanted to see what the dishes actually DID. Now mind you, I’m pretty much running this mode with 6 stars exclusively so YMMV. It’s an end-game side mode in beta no less, so playing RA with an undeveloped roster is going to be a Bad Time.

That being said, after awhile I focused on making dishes for specific core operators just to make things easier. Any dish that decreases SP costs, I gave to my vanguards so I can immediately start printing DP for raid defense. Any dish that reduces redeploy time I gave to Nearlter so I can use her s2 as I believe god intended LOL! The Festive Feast that gives an Operator camouflage and an attack boost, I shoved down Mlynar’s throat so he can just park at those Mountain Pass sentinel constructs and wreck them (and everything else around him) without being targeted.

8. Build the Transregional Communication Station as soon as you are done with your base layout.

Please don’t try and find those elusive invisible “emergency exits” in Conflict Nodes or whatever, it’s a waste of time and doesn’t do what the tutorial claims it does. 😩 Building this construct is what’s gonna allow you to bail on day 9 (or 6 if you upgrade it) with like 15 items if you upgraded the Construction tree well enough. I use this to carry over rare Dishes I made or Monitoring Towers to a new run so I start with a great advantage and don’t have to start from 0 crafting. Once I brought over 15 towers and just opened up the whole map by like day 4 by creating sentries EVERYWHERE I could LOL.

Final notes:

The mode has promise, so if they bring it back later like IS I just hope HG polishes it up. But uh… I actually have no idea who the player is supposed to be in this story LOL! There’s no replay value once you beat all the endings, and there’s no point in going to all the nodes after triggering the events you need unless you just wanna beat enemies up. Base building could be much more fun if they allowed Constructs to be moved around and not just destroyed. Some folks live by creating Support machines to help farm mats faster, but I literally never even bothered with it past the tutorial. Most of the Constructs offered you do not need. Iron shouldn’t be as much of a pain to find/farm as it is. The map previews are so useless idek why they bothered, what’s a big black box gone do for me? 😭

The raids were fun, tho. They’re front loaded as hell but once you get your bottleneck of pain organized it’s simple enough! The exploding spider one I obliterated with ranged units only, the Crystal golem rush I utilized Surtr and just about every medic/healing defender I had in my roster LMAO! Ending bosses were mostly tanked by Hoshi, covered by Shining, and obliterated via Mlynar and Ifrit in the cross fire. Manticore becomes an OP beast due to her token that increases her ASPD for perma slow on S1.

But I will say this: I gotta stan Passenger for literally not giving one shit about what he destroys in order to get his lick back. He played the long game! Don’t ever make an enemy out of that man he ain’t got shit to lose and he’ll make you suffer 😭

[glommergoop]

plz help

ok i’m just gonna. make a post asking for help and force myself to not delete it no matter how embarassed i am. please help me. tdlr: disabled/mentally ill trans system host has been unemployed for over a year and can’t consistently pay for rent and food!!

i’ve been trying to find consistent work for over a year and have had a couple interviews or other promising stuff, but nothing’s turned out. i keep trying to do commissions of multiple types (art, writing, and more), but i’ve literally gone 5+ months without a client sometimes. when i do get commissions it’s usually not for very much. i’m selling things i own online and locally. i’m borrowing money and risking getting into debt. i DO have section 8 now, which pays most of rent, i still have $30 to pay but genuinely even $30 is starting to become. impossible to get. if i’d also like to eat (non-expired, non-trash) food every week. i also work with a place that’s supposed to help disabled people find work but they’ve been treating me very poorly and constantly shifting me around to different workers instead of helping me with what i ask them to do (help me find job experience so i can be more comfortable at work). it’s really frustrating and i feel trapped.

i’m literalyl trying every option and still nothing is keeping me afloat and i can’t fucking live this way anymore so i’m just gonna become the ebeg guy!

i really just need at least $30 a month for what’s left of rent but would like to try to raise $185 - 185 is the average (give or take a bit) amount of bills that i have each month. not much in the long run, but still literally way out of my budget. i am frequently having to just let bills go unpaid until things get threatened to get cut off because i cannot make enough fucking money and i’m so tired. if i could get $185 i’d actually have some breathing room and maybe be able to save money. but also i’m aware that’s kind of a lot. beggers can’t be choosers, anything helps.

please don’t tag as don4tion or something like that or tumblr will shadowban the post

+ i also applied for tumblr blog tipping, not sure when it’ll go through but if you see this and it has the tip option feel free to use that

*edited* 10/11/2022: i made an amazon wishlist and put the items that are really hard to afford rn (pads, cat food etc) on it. if you don’t have monetary support but have amazon credit around or something feel free to pick from there! https://www.amazon.com/hz/wishlist/ls/33WLF6K5UNUTT?ref_=wl_share 

[kooktrash]

Maybe LMLM couple disagreement about kids 🫣 but they learn to work it out 🤭

ok so first, thx for sending a request in <3 second the thought of kids literally grossed me out but that’s just me, to each their own. so I tried writing this in a way that they’d disagree bc honestly neither jk or y/n seem like the type to think far into their future like this NEVERTHELESS, I tried my best but if you hate it I get it :’)

DRABBLE FOR: leave me love me

“So when do you plan on moving forward in your relationship now that you’ve moved in together? Can we see a wedding ring soon? How many children will you have?”

That’s what’s started the most awkward argument you’d ever had with Jungkook. You were still walking on eggshells since the show, too scared to really argue and it’s almost like you’ve regressed. You’re not using sex as an outlet for your anger you’re just bottling up inside but this time it’s all coming out again. It made you anxious to think you were upsetting Jungkook but you wouldn’t change your mind.

“I don’t want kids.”

“I don’t want to get married.”

It was definitely awkward for the ones who asked and they all had another question in mind: So why are you still together then? You and Jungkook got home after that dinner both in a bad mood. He was just the first to try and talk about it. He cleared his throat awkwardly, “How did I not know you don’t want kids?”

“Do you?” You asked with a small laugh. He shrugged, “I wouldn’t mind one in a couple years. A mini you or me crawling around.”

“Yeah that’s easy for you to say, you don’t have to carry the damn thing for nine months,” you muttered. Jungkook looked at you, his brows scrunched together and a tense jaw, “Yeah but… I don’t know, I’d want to start a family soon. I’m already 25.”

“Well I’m not staring a family with someone if we’re not going to get married,” you shrugged, “I’m not trying to be a single parent, I’m not cut out for that.”

“But marriage is just a piece of paper,” Jungkook argued following you into the kitchen as you made yourself a post dinner snack. He had to be careful with the way he spoke, it’s only been a couple weeks since the show. It had been like a honeymoon phase for you two all over again, filled with love and care. He’s pretty sure that mood is over and you’re back to your usual selves. That’s why you’re both trying really hard to avoid an argument. Still, he’s hurt you don’t want to start a family with him.

“Most marriages end in divorce so it’s really unnecessary. I love you and you know I do so why do we need to even think about that?” He asked.

“Because we’re talking about starting a family here,” you reputed back at him, “You think I want to ruin my body for a child with a man who can’t even marry me?”

“Okay but having a child is about creating a life with someone, we’ll always be together like that,” he said coming to stand behind you as you washed your dishes. His hands trapped you in the space between them and he rested his head on your shoulder, “Plus, baby making will be fun.”

“Like I said, I’m not going to have a child unless I’m married with a stable income,” you told him simply, “Besides, I don’t want one of those. Do you know how messy they are? We’ve got two dogs already, what’s gonna happen when we add a newborn baby to the mix? We live in a small apartment with pets, please just try and be logical.”

Honestly you’re very proud of yourselves right. He had yet to call you a bitch and you’ve yet to tell him you hate him. You’re not sure how much the show actually helped you two but it’s definitely traumatized you. Jungkook’s been one of the very few constants in your life even when you were broken up and the thought of actually losing him scared you shitless. He made it clear that if you broke up during the show you weren’t going to get back together again. It wasn’t necessarily a threat but more so a promise. And it was true, if not even being forced to talk about your problems, nothing would ever change. So once the show ended you’ve decided that if the time came that you would break up—it’d be for good.

You didn’t want that and neither did he but you also don’t think you two should be asked every time you got out with friends, if you’re getting married or thinking about kids. Like could they at least let you two figure out your own problems before you think about permanent life changes like that? Sure, Jungkook might be ready for a child but he’s also always been more impulsive than you. Right now he’ll he wants kids but maybe when you’re six months pregnant, having mood swings, cramps, cravings, maybe he’ll be tired of all the fuss already. He could barely put up with your mood swings now, imagine when you’re pregnant, yeah no thanks. You’re already a little insecure about the way you look and it might be selfish but you don’t want to give birth or be pregnant.

It’s not that you didn’t want kids, you did but not now, and not without committing to each other fully. He kissed your shoulder blade snapping you out of your thoughts, “What are you thinking?”

“I just… can we just work on ourselves first and then decide what we want to do? Like couple’s therapy or something? Make sure it’s something we really wa—“

“But it is something I really want and I want it with you, I just don’t see why we have to wait. Do you just not want a future wi—no, that’s now what I’m trying to say,” he cut himself off as he pulled away from you in thought, “Do you not want kids at all, or… do you not want kids with me?”

You turned to look at him, turning off the water and giving him a good look, “I… don’t want to think about kids right now. I want to think about us.”

“Okay, but I don’t want this to be another argument we get back to in a couple months,” Jungkook said with a small pout.

“Well clearly we can’t make up our minds Jungkook so we need to compromise on what we want,” you told him walking away to the living room.

“So you want to get married first?” Jungkook asked again following after you. You shrugged making him sigh, “Come on baby, don’t go silent on me. Yes or no?”

“I mean I would want to but not if I have to beg you to marry me,” you told him honestly. He looked down at you as he moved to sit on the couch. He reached across for you and dragged you into his side while he took the remote, “Alright so let’s get engaged then.”

“Well that’s not a really romantic proposal—“

“Not now, I mean once we’re ready. Once we go to therapy, work our own stuff out, let’s get engaged…” Jungkook cleared his throat, “I get where you’re coming from especially being the one who’ll have to carry a pregnancy so I’m going to compromise. If we at least get engaged—when the time’s right—then let’s look at possibly having a child? Hell, adoption or even fostering.”

You let out a small sigh, “I just don’t want to make any plans if you and I aren’t… I don’t know.”

“I mean come on, it’s either that or we grow old together in some little condo by the River with our dogs,” Jungkook shrugged with a smile, “I can do anything if it’s with you. And I really want it to be with you.”

You looked up at him making him send you an air kiss making you smile even as you rolled your eyes, “This feels weird… we’re not yelling or anything.”

“Do you want me to?” He asked with a playful smirk. You pushed him away making him laugh as he held you tighter, “But good, I don’t want either of us yelling unless it’s my name coming out of your pretty mouth when I’m going down on you.”

“Do you ever not think about sex?”

“Im not thinking about sex, I’m thinking about you,” he shrugged, “Plus all this baby making talk has me excited. Not saying we’ve got to mix ingredients yet but we can at least pretend like you’re not on birth control and I’m not wearing a condom.”

“Ah so is this really about kids or about cumming inside,” you joked turning to him as he made a face lost in thought.

“Both? I mean yeah I want kids but right now I want you so much more.” To state his point further he was crawling over you forcing you into the couch as you groaned in feigned annoyance. He hugged you like a damn koala bear just because he thought it was funny the way engulfed you with his size.

“I can’t breathe,” you wheezed out patting him to get up, “You don’t want to suffocate your future baby mama, do you?”

“You’ve swallowed enough of my kids that you’re already my baby mama—“ you pushed him off making him fall to the floor, “Shut up, let’s take a bath.”

“Yes mom!”

::.

also idk; do I hate this? maybe? maybe not? is this domestic boyfriend jk? yeah

[fuck-customers]

This is more of a fuck managers but

At my job both the GM and the Kitchen Manager walked out. They were fiancés and getting married that week (this was a few weeks ago) and they’re also trying to get pregnant so they decided work on top of all that was too stressful. Which fair enough, but instead of staying their full two weeks they decided to walk out.

Normally this would probably be fine. I work in kitchen, and literally that’s one less person in the kitchen and we need a new manager right? Whatever not that bad. I hold the opinion that your average worker is more important than your manager, cause if we all quit that brings the business down, your manager quits and whatever you need a new manager. AND I WAS RIGHT.

Cause you know what happed? After the KM quit so did MOST OF OUR COOKS. They decided fuck this. Which like fair enough, with the manager quitting it meant that our lead, who got treated like shit by the managers, would have to make up the difference and help cover their shifts on top of their own. Then two more starting wage cooks quit. Our assistant manager basically has to do the work of the Kitchen Manager now and work doubles all week on top of it because after all this we had one person left on each station, him on grill, me on fry, and someone else on backboards.

Now we have expos training in kitchen and one more new person training on fry so it’s not as bad, except one of our expos dropped a pan on her hand and ended up with 2nd degree burns and nerve damage. And she’s still working 😬.

I’m just having a difficult time because I’m autistic and this is way too much change for me. It’s new people, who are playing new music (really fucking loudly I might add), we aren’t doing our jobs right anymore, our cleaning tasks have basically gone out the window, people keep moving things and leaving things out for no reason and I’m trapped because I can’t quit cause a new job would be even more change and I’m one of two people who works fryer so that would be screwing my coworkers over.

Also my km quit for his mental health while actively making everyone else’s mental health worse. The lead who quit after he walked out was supposed to be the assistant kitchen manager but they refused to promote her after she wanted to have a few less hours (she was working 91 hours) and instead promoted a guy who they promised they weren’t going to. He’s chill but it sucks so hard for her. Also I just graduated, and after I left school my km decided my availability didn’t fucking matter anymore and stared changing my schedule, which again, autistic. So I put in a new availability request to get consistent and fewer hours (because I never fucking wanted full time hours) and he decided to give me four closing shifts in a row on a week he knew I was going to be busy. And then on the day after my four shifts he fucking quit. Fuck him.

Also the two of them had the gall to be mad that no one wanted to talk to them or come to their fucking wedding

[maximumkillshot]

By The Books-Part 3

Warnings:The regulars with this series, you know... and then some... lets call it fluff? Idk it’s been a hot min.  Pairing: Professor!Dean x Reader x Professor!Sam (EVENTUALLY)   Characters: Dean, Sam, Reader A/N: I hope yall enjoy it!!!

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Read “The Zeppelin Shirt” Here

Before:

As I was cooking dinner Sam walked In, in search of a beer most likely.

“So what do you really make of Y/N?” Sam asked, or should I say inquired because I’m a professor now… any way I answered with a “she seems cool, like she can hang with the big boys in the big leagues. She’s got promise. Especially in abnormal psych. I should the Gacy picture,”

“Not the one with the decalitated head.” 

I nodded as I mixed up the ground beef with the marinara sauce.

“Yep, she didn’t even flinch.” I said as I added some spice. 

“Well dean you should’ve seen her answering questions in my class. I kid you not, she demolished everyone. It was art.” Said Sam as he took a seat.

“I’m sure it wasn’t as—“ I was cut off by Sam saying “she answered the Wicca v. Witchcraft question, Dean, no hesitation, just pure facts.”

“You thinking we need to do a test on her?” I asked. “I shook her hand with a silver ring, cross on the inside. I wore blessed oil and got close too, no reaction.” I relplied.

Sam added, “I had salt on the entries and exits, devils trap under right where she was standing, got no adverse reaction.”

“So she’s naturally this good?” I asked as I served up his salad and my real food.

“Or she’s just curious” said Sam as he took in a mouthful, “either way we’ll see what she’s made of soon enough.”

NOW:

Two Weeks Later 

Dean POV:

 Man today’s classes went on way too long. I’ve been getting impatient with these kids. None of them are rising to the occasion when it comes to Y/N. She literally wipes the floor with them. I could see the hate from some of these kids who roll their eyes when she raises her hand. It’s almost like they know her adding onto the class means that they need to work more in the end. Not to mention she’s doing all of this while being a student researcher for not just one professor, but two. 

As soon as class was dismissed today I texted my brother, making sure our plans for lunch were set in stone. As soon as I got the okay from him I made my way to the Chinese restaurant across from campus, where we were planning to meet. Luckily, he was already there and ordered.

My brother noticed my frustration immediately, “Someone’s pissy. What happened?”

I just replied with “These kids. They’re acting some kinda way towards Y/N simply because she’s stepping up to the plate.”

“That’s happening in your class too?”

“Yeah, it’s really pissing me off. She does such great work and obviously knows what she’s doing.”

“Maybe it’s just too easy for her, Dean. Maybe we need to crank it up.”

I looked at him sideways, “we are trying to teach her, Sammy, not murder the poor girl, it’s bad enough she has to defend a thesis.”

“A thesis which we are going to help her prepare…” Sam said with a smirk as he sipped on his tea. 

“Come again?” I asked.

“Yesterday she and I were reading ancient ritual ceremonial books from the ….”

“Can we please skip the magical shit, Sam?”

“Ok fine, anyway, she shared her idea of a thesis with me and I tend to like it alot actually…”

“Mind letting me in on this or?” I questioned.

“Her thesis is going to be on the importance and ramifications of human sacrifices on the psyche. It’s going to explore it from a ritualistic and criminal psychological aspect, tying ritual killings to serial killers and finding where that drive comes from.”

“Ok, not gonna lie…. That is gonna kill every other thesis presented.” I smiled. “I never looked at either of those topics being tied together and yet she found this pattern? How?”

Sam smiled and said, “if you give a builder the materials and tools, they’ll build the Taj Mahal, Dean.”

I replied with “Sammy… Don’t ever use any analogy ever again, it’s cringe worthy.”

“No it’s not.”

“Yes… yes it is.”

Then I saw that the waiter brought over three bowls of rice and then I heard Y/N behind me, “hey sorry I’m late.”

I immediately looked to Sam and he said “Nonsense you’re right on time.”

As she sat down Sam continued, “So… I just filled Dean in on your thesis.”

“Yeah he did, I’m seriously impressed Y/N. You are kicking some serious ass here.” I said as I took a mouthful of rice. 

“Thanks, it’s gonna be hard tying them together though. Ritualistic killings can claim the fear of repercussions but serial killings? Not necessarily.” She said as she took a mouthful of rice.

I started thinking and I said, “Well one could say that many serial killers have a drive to kill, in that it could be considered ritualistic. You also have many serial killers that have patterns to their madness. Very ritualistic in nature. Just because there’s no deity behind it doesn’t necessarily mean that it isn’t ritualistic.”

Her eyes lit up and she said, “That’s true but that only explains a fraction of the serial killers out there.”

I continued, “You’re right about that. The other majority is those with mental illnesses. I did study those as well. In many of those cases it can be seen as a fear driven act. Like some serial killers have a fear of rejection, so they kill the victim before they can be rejected. Others have unresolved childhood trauma that leads them to enact vengeance, trying to make things right.”

Sammy interjected, “That can even be tied to the ritualistic killings of the Mayan peoples. Whenever they had a bad harvest or wanted to appease the gods, make things right, they’d give human sacrifices until their luck turned around. But this is just one of the many early peoples and religions that did this.”

I concluded, “So you need to find that one commonality. If you look at these cases, and these religions, stripped down to their bones. You’ll find that there is really not much difference between these ritualistic killings and these mass murderers. And for those that kill just to kill, you could even say that they were ritualistic in the aspect of repetition.”

She looked confused at that, “How is repetition ritualistic?”

“The act of repeating something is a ritual in and of itself. A definition of ritual as an adjective is arising from convention or habit.”

Her eyes got even brighter as she said, “Ahh I see, so just the fact that it’s done the same way multiple times can consider it as a repetitious act, Making it literally a ritualistic killing pattern.”

Sam looked at me and nodded saying, “Meaning that the drive to kill is repetitious no matter what the trigger is, especially in serial killers and in ritualistic killings.”

I continued, “Many serial killers even describe their murders as ceremonial. They felt they needed to be done, whether it be to regain control, to fix the past, or to just satiate a need. This all falls into ritualistic killings because there is a purpose to them, even if they did it just because they could, that in itself is a reason.”

She smiled and looked down to her rice, “I.. how… Claire wasn’t kidding.” She said under her breath to herself.

Sammy’s eyebrows furrowed, “What did Claire say?”he asked.

She took a forkful of rice and looked up at him with her smile peaking through, “She told me you guys would be more than willing to help.” She swallowed the rice and looked at us both up and down, “And more than equipped to do the job right.”

“I’m equipped to do a few things, Sweetheart.” Shit… did that just come out of my mouth… Fuck me.

She looked unphased as Sammy looked mortified, “What Dean means is, he is also a specialist in witchcraft and religion…. Right Dean…” his eyes got big as I cleared my throat..

“Uhh yeah, I also have a mean medieval weapons collection at home, as well as my hundreds of books on murderers and stuff. You should come by, Sammy has a few occult books that could help with the thesis too. Make a night out of it?” I asked, trying to save myself.

Her head cocked to the side, “Are you asking me over to your place, Dean?” “As much as I want to help you,” I said with as much confidence as I could muster, “I can’t give you all of the information that our library at home can. It’s a literal goldmine for someone like you for a thesis. This is strictly professional but I do understand if that makes you uncomfortable. I can bring a few in but because I can’t say with 100% certainty where you’re going or where you’re at in your thesis, the stuff I bring in may not help you. It may be better for you to just come by and have a look for yourself.”

She nodded as she said “Well I only have a writing class left after this then I’ll be off until Tuesday… So what day works for you?” She asked.

Sammy and I both have the same schedules and ironically… It’s the same as hers, only on campus Tuesdays/Thursdays, online classes Monday and Wednesday.

“When do you get out of your class?” I asked as I checked my watch. “4:30pm” She said as she continued to eat. “I mean we can hang around for a few hours, get some papers graded while you have class, and we can go home with you, I’ll make some dinner and we’ll dive into those books, sound good?” I asked while Sam’s face slowly started contorting.

“Sounds awesome, and thanks so much for all of this. I know it’s not easy letting someone into your home.” She smiled. Sam wiped the discomfort off of his face as he said, “We are just really excited that someone is as enthusiastic about this stuff as we are, it’s not every day that we meet students that are this skilled and well… have an iron stomach for our subjects.” He chuckled. I laughed, “yeah usually kids go running out of our classes once things get uncomfortable.”

She smirked and said, “Growing is uncomfortable, Knowledge can be uncomfortable, that's why the kids run, but the adults stay and handle business.” She said as the waiter came up.

After a nice lunch Y/N said her goodbyes and Sammy and I stood at the table, as soon as the door closed my head snapped to Sammy, “How the hell is she not a hunter?” “Dean”

“No, don't Dean me, you see her right? The way she walks, the way she studies and writes, the way sheeee…” I struggled finding the words. “Hunts for information…” Sam completed.

“Yes! Yes exactly… Sammy she is doing this for more than a thesis. She has to be.” I said as I thought long and hard.

“She’s doing it to impress us.” Sam said. “We are not that special Sammy, she is drop dead gorgeous and has way more important shit to do.” I was exasperated.

“Maybe this is a sign,” I said as Sammy huffed.

“Not this again” “Just hear me out Sammy, what if this is Chuck saying ‘okay boys you had your fun now let's get back into the game, shall we?’” I asked as I played with the straw of my drink.

“Chuck is gone, Dean… You know that.”

“No, I know that Amara had enough of his shit and trapped him on this planet, that’s what I know.” I replied. “Dean… we are retired.” Sam huffed as he took the check to the counter. “So was the Terminator and Rick-Flair but after a decade, bam! Rick’s back in the ring and Terminator’s…. You know…. terminating.” Sam rolled his eyes as we walked out of the restaurant, “listen, Dean, we don’t know her motivation, but we both know if she was a hunter she wouldn’t be able to get up at 5 am to decode tomes before classes, she’d be knocked out, in her bed, with bruises, scars and bloody laundry waiting in the next room. Hunters aren’t masters students. They’re backroads highwaymen, they’re outlaws, they’re….”

“Professors” I said as I turned Sammy towards me, “They’re super intelligent, smartasses, master manipulators, actors, weapons and religion specialists… They are masters at hiding in plain sight… Sam… we are hunters and we have fucking Doctorates.”

“Oh my god,” Sam Drawled out. “Given you hacked Harvard’s servers to get us them but still, we’re fucking doctors.” I said as I rushed out the truth and Sam started walking. “Dean, listen to me… Y/N has no marks, no scars, no bruises. She’s not jumpy or attuned with her surroundings, she has no indication of hidden runes, tomes, no unusual jewelry… She is just a normal woman, with a very interesting set of hobbies that she happens to be getting a degree in. Stop making it more than that… Don’t get her on a path that leads to death. We already did that to hundreds of people. It’s time to stop.” Sam said sternly. I looked at him and said, “fine, fine… We’ll help the girl, get her thesis on track, pray to god she teaches with us, and we’ll move on… but what if she finds out about our past?” “She won’t, it’s all locked away. We made sure of that.” Sam said as we walked into the elevator.

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Jared/Sam Peoples!:

@saxxxology