#best computer for day trading

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

SAGAU where the Creator is slain once, accused of being an imposter, and reborn as... a Melusine.

there's screaming and pain, the sensation of a thin blade digging into your chest- then nothing. nothing but the soft melody of running water. tentatively you open your eyes are met with dancing colors and shapes, little shell houses and baubles making a small, cozy village. your hands have become mittens, your skin swirling with pretty patterns, a pair of antennae sprouting from your head, and where there were previously cuts dripping with blood have turned to markings that shimmer slightly in the light. another Melusine approaches you and asks if you're lost, and when you merely shrug she introduces herself as Cosanzeana and shows you her slowly growing flower garden.

it's nice here, in Merusea Village. unlike the rest of Teyvat, the Melusine don't know nor care much about any sort of Creator myths- they came from Elynas, after all- so they happily regard you as a sibling who simply got lost on the way. finally you're free from the world above, everyone who chases and tries to harm you, spending your days collecting components to trade and swimming beneath the waves. Mamere in particular becomes a close friend, both of you regarded as a little strange but still beloved by all your siblings. she shows you her artwork and you help her collect paint, and in the coldest nights when you're swarmed by bad dreams, you tell her of your previous life as she swears to keep it a secret.

the only time you venture out into the far caverns alone is when you meet a familiar face- Childe's Foul Legacy form. you always loved the transformation, when Teyvat was just a game on your computer, but now you hastily hop a few steps back. the others treated you as a fraud, tearing at your skin until you gave in and died- he would be exactly the same. but Foul Legacy just blinks, slowly crouching to your height and staring into your eyes, speckled with tiny stars. he trills quietly in awe, then lowers his head into a bow in presence of the true Creator.

the other Melusine cluster around you when you bring him back to Merusea, curiously poking at his armor and glittery wings. you all see him as beautiful, and he is beautiful! Legacy stays with you in the village, accepted with open arms, much like Seymour stayed with Mamere for a time, and it becomes common to see a slightly sparkly Melusine running around with an Abyssal beast at their heels. he swims with you, navigating through the Primordial Sea, and shields you from any outsiders that happen to appear, the ones who dared to harm his Creator so horribly.

you, a Melusine, and Foul Legacy, your protector and best friend.

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

♡ chronicle #2 : bring your dragon to work day ♡

wc : 3739

"what do you do at this job of yours, anyway ?"

"hm ?"

bakugou wants to see where you work.

he loves to act like he isn't, but he is curious to know where you fuck off to everyday, except on wednesdays.

he grunts from where he's sitting across from you at the kitchen table. you're supposed to be leaving for work in about 30 minutes and this was the first thing he'd said to you since you first woke up, besides grunting out a greeting when you had told him goodmorning.

" your job," he grumbles "what do you even do ? you're gone for so long." he dips his spoon inside his bowl absentmindedly a couple times, messing with his soggy cereal. you have half a mind to scold him and tell him to not play with his food until you realise you'd sound like some overbearing mother.

and that he could burn you to a crisp right now if he so chose to, of course.

"oh" you hum, trying your best to talk properly despite eating "'m an accountant." you giggle at how he looks at you like you had spoken a lovecraftian language, his eyebrows pinched and a little frown pulling at his lips, as you expected.

"it's boring stuff, don't worry about it." you wave off. he furrows his eyebrows even harder at that. the idea of him not understanding some puny human trade frustrates him harder than he'd rather admit.

he huffs, stabbing his spoon into his cereal "don't compare you're species' water flea attention span to mine, human. 'm plenty capable of being entertained by your human.." he pouts as he thinks "jargon" is what he settles with, you giggle. he frowns harder, somehow, cheeks dusting a light pinkish color as he scoffs.

"it's not to insult you, mr. oh so powerful dragon man" you joke, causing him to growl at you. you hold back a giggle but you can't keep the smartass smirk that forms on your lips, it feels good to get back at him from time to time.

"it's all about staring at a computer screen n' typing numbers, you wouldn't like it, i honestly get bored of it, too." you finish the last of your cereal and walk off to place it in the sink, you've selfishly gotten used to bakugo doing them by the time you're back from work (he's suprisingly very neat).

"of course you do. you humans always need to be entertained, have someone put on a show for you, 'ts pathetic"

"says the guy who binged the entirety of downtown abbey in one sitting." you quip.

he spins around to look at you wide eyed and you can't stop the ugly snort that leaks out. he glares and growls at you, ears pink as he sputters for something to say, a mix of insults and excuses pouring out of his mouth "yeah, yeah i get it, i get it. no need to explain yourself to me" you smirk "i am but a puny human, after all." you finish smugly, he all but gives you the nastiest glare, trying to burn you alive with his stare alone, knowing he very much could. right now.

and yet he doesn't. he refrains from questioning as to why and simply growls at you, then leans forward and snaps at you like a rabid dog. you squeal and run off to your room to change, giggling to yourself.

he shakes his head, a ghost of a smile on his face before the thought crosses his mind again.

bakugou wants to see where you work, he wants to know how you work. and maybe, just maybe, he's a little curious about what you're like at work. are you as quippy and annoyingly witty and cheeky as you are with him, a dragon as powerful as him who could easily destroy more than just the wall of your apartment ? do you also share food and watch rom-coms and scrunch your nose in that stupidly cute way you do when you try to hold back your laughter with your coworkers ? do you pout at the people at your job the way you do at him when you notice how he had managed to sneakily steal a bite of your food ?

the thought makes something nasty churn inside his stomach, something he can't explain quite well, but doesn't like at all.

you come back out then, dressed up all proper, different than what you look like from when you have your movie marathons, that's one thing your other stupid human coworkers don't get to see, he knows. something akin to smugness bubbles up in his chest, he quickly brushes it off.

"alright, i'm off" you sigh, looking at your phone camera to fix up anything that seemed out of place. you absentmindedly pick at something on your jacket as you speak "i'll be back by 8 if everything goes according to plan" you reassure, you notice he's a little bit of a stickler and likes keeping things on schedule, getting a little antsy angry whenever you're not back by the time you usually are. he merely grunts in response, gulping the last of his cereal down, his adam's apple bobbing as he swallows—you look away.

he grabs your wrist when you pass by him, you let out a suprised little gasp. he glowers at you, deep red eyes focused on yours as he seems to be debating with himself on what to say.

"what's up ?" you stutter quietly, you don't dare speak louder.

"i—wanna see.." he looks away, his grip on your arm tightens slightly "where you work" he's staring at you intently. you want to look away, but you can't.

"you really wanna see where i work that bad ? you really won’t like it." your answer comes out somehow breathy, but there's a joking tone to your voice. he keeps leering at you and you know you have your answer.

"i—" you sigh, looking down at your phone's clock , you have to leave in a few minutes to catch your train. "i can take you." he sits up a little straighter, his tail rising from where it’s propped on on chair "but !" you continue " knowing you— you'd end up burning some of my coworkers. sure, some of 'em deserve to get roasted a little, but that wouldn't be good for me." you lean forward to pet his head, you notice and ignore how soft his hair is "we're gonna have to write that off for another time." you jest softly, snorting when he smacks your hand away. (you don't seem to notice how red he's gotten from the simple touch). "when the hell is that ?!" he growls after you as you walk off.

"when you learn to behave !" you call back from the front door before he hears it close. he scoffs to himself, sulking off to wash the dishes you'd left behind.

him ? learn to behave ? like he couldn't already ! he was being pretty well behaved for not chomping you and your stupid job up right fuckin' now !

"learn how to behave, my ass." he mutters bitterly to himself, scrubbing aggresively at a particularly sticky piece of food.

he could behave, he could behave so fuckin' well you'd be suprised at it !

and he'd prove it to you.

your office building is suprisingly big.

of course, nowhere near as big as his hoard, but it's getting there.

tracking down your scent wasn't hard considering he's been staying with you for a while now. he found your building rather quickly in his dragon form (optic perception on, of course. humans get freaked out too easily).

he could definitely get you here way faster than that tiny cramped metal box you call a "train", he shoves that thought to the side for now.

bakugou katsuki is a selfish being, he lives true to himself and fights for what he believes he deserves. he's stubborn, headstrong and he does not submit to anyone. nobody. absolutely no one.

but for a second he thinks, maybe, he should've listened to you and stayed his ass home.

the building is way bigger than it looks from the outside, bigger than the fortresses filled with piles upon piles of gold and jewelry he'd seen back in his homelands. the pristene white walls damn near make him dizzy and the smell of plastic, hand sinitizer and coffee fills his nose. this complex is crawling with humans, he can smell it. he can see it. they're walking, talking amongst themselves, running, talking on the phone, constantly moving. except for one sitting at a desk. he decides his best bet is them.

he walks up to a woman, who greets him with a bright smile and a polite "good morning sir, how may i help you ?" katsuki bets she wouldn't have talked to him so casually if he wasn't hiding his horns, wings and tail.(humans get freaked out way too easily, pathetic.) the woman has some sort of card dangling around her neck, was she owned by someone ? he can just barely read the small letters "secretary". was that her function ?

whatever it is, this human says she can apparently help him. but c'mon, he's a fearsome, powerful dragon. as if he needed help from some-

" i need to find someone."

katsuki feels likes he's going to lose his mind.

humans are far more dreadful than he’d imagined, he won't say it out loud, but he won't underestimate them from now on.

the secretary, upon finding out that he was here for you( it took them about 10 minutes to figure out was you he was looking for, fuck you for not telling him humans worked in different building blocks) proceeded to give him directions to your block. okay, not too bad.

except it's been 20. fucking. minutes. and still no sight of you.

this should've been easy. he had travelled through the havenfall forest like it was nothing. crossed throught the yonara sea with nothing but the scales on his back. this really should've been easy.

when he thinks about it, that secretary probably set him up. maybe instead of going left, he was meant to go right and she had purposefully tricked him. truthfully, it wouldn't surprise him, humans were vile tricksters after all.

this is the 6th left he's taken, he counted. and he somehow ended up in block f. you're in block c.

humans were vile fucking fiends.

that secretary was definitely praying on his downfall, she must've sensed his astronomical mana output and decided to plot against him. there are too many humans walking around and it's seriously messing with him. he could've caught your scent if it didn't stink of sweat, sanitizer and so much fucking coffee.

maybe he should just make it easier for himself by burning every one of these vile fucking mortals to a crisp-

" knowing you- you'd end up burning some of my coworkers. sure, some of 'em deserve to get roasted a little, but that wouldn't be good for me."

katsuki takes a deep, coffee filled breath and trudges on, trying to catch even the faintest hint of your scent, relying solely on his instincts, fuck the secretary and her godforsaken instructions.

he'd find you all by his-fuckin'-self. who needs help from those rotten humans anyway.

he'd show you he could behave.

"l/n, someone's here for you !"

you lift your head up to glance curiously at your coworker sachi, she gestures for you to wait when you mouth "who ?" silently. her head pops past the door frame, dark brown curls bouncing around as she gives you a look, eyebrow raised.

"says his name is bakugou."

huh ???????!!

you must look beyond surprised because your expression seems to alarm your coworker. you hear her tell bakugou to wait a minute before she's speedwalking over to you, grabbing an office chair from your absent coworker next to you and sits down.

"do you know him?" she questions, playing around with her badge absentmindedly. you snap out of your stupor and groan, rubbing at your forehead "unfortunately" you grumble.

her face changes from mildly amused to serious "need me to get 'im out ?" you quickly shake your head " no, no ! don't worry he's not like that!" she still seems suspiscious , but tilts her head to the side, coaxing you to say more.

"he's.." you pause "a friend—of sorts"

"of sorts ?" she repeats

you nod "of sorts."

"..sooo…with benefits orr..?"

you sit up, revolted "get your mind out of the gutter, you dog !" you groan, covering your face with your hands.

she leans back and barks out a loud laugh "m'just askin' ! so, just a friend, then ?" you nod. "kay, got it..what's he here for ?"

"i'd love to know !" you exclaim "i don't know why he can't just stay at home—"

"at home ? what, he lives with you ?" she seems even more amused and intrigued "you bitch ! you're supposed to tell me if you get a boyfriend, i'm trynna live the office rom-com best friend experience !" she giggles with a cat-like grin, looking utterly too pleased with herself.

"it's not like that !" you moan "it isn't—he's not my boyfriend, first of all" you glare at her seriously but you can feel the immense heat gathering in your cheeks, your voice trails off towards the end of your sentence. sachi doesn't look the least bit convinced as she gives you a half assed "uh-huuuuh.."

"he's my roommate..of sorts" sachi snorts "he got evicted from his flat and he's staying with me until he's back on his feet !" you speak rapidly, hoping the story you cooked up in .2 seconds sounded somewhat believable.

sachi giggles some more before shaking her head " alright well, don't let him take advantage of your kindess, you know what doja said." she concludes, before walking back off the her own cubicle, not before telling your dragon companion you'd "be there in a sec."

bakugou looks like he's been through the cold war when you see him.

he's heaving, fuming. glaring hard at you. you're so confused you forgot were supposed to be mad at him.

"ba—"

"no." he growls, lifting his hand up to silence you. "shut up. i'm talking." his voice is this close to cracking, you're starting to get a little worried about him so you simply nod silently.

"i've been stuck, walking around aimlessly in this..prison realm. for two. fucking. hours." he gasps. looking down at the floor with his hands tightened into fists. you can't tell if he's shaking from anger or if he's about to cry, you feel a little sorry for him but you can't help but find it a little funny the great dragon man has been reduced to this from just two hours inside your office building, you can unfortunately relate a little too well.

"can you imagine that ?!"

"i can, actually, i work here—"

"it's a fucking nightmare !" he interrupts, you're not even sure he can hear you. "this place is a fuckin' maze , there are way too many blocks, why do you anthropoids even need a fuckin' block z ?!" he cursed, you snort. "that stupid secretary woman set me up 'take a left right at the second hallway and you're there !' my ass ! i'd like to see her take a left towards the gates of the underworld !" you laugh out loud as he very crudely mimics mayu's voice, the wretched secretary he'd encountered.

"don't be mean, mayu's real sweet" you jest. his eye twitches and he glares at you in disbelief. his expression is near cartoonish and you can't help the giggles that keep bubbling from your mouth.

"sweet, my ass ! the witch lied to me ! had me walkin' around this fuckin' deathtrap from front to back ! there are too many damn people around and it reeks of goddamn coffee!" hes heaving by the time he's done, you feel a little bad for laughing. being thrown in such an unknown environment must've been more than a little shocking.

except he wasn't thrown anywhere, he had decided to be a stubborn little shit and not listen to you, so you really didn't feel all that bad.

"well..." you sing "i told you it would be boring". he huffs, then scoffs at you, crossing his arms "nothin' boring about any of this."

"you could've just stayed home, y'know?" you quip

he scoffs again, like he wasn’t just having a breakdown three seconds ago. "i don’t take orders from anyone, much less from you, shitty human."

"right." you shake your head, though the grin on your face remains.

there is definitely nothing boring as long as bakugou's involved.

it's quiet until he mumbles something you can't quit catch, "hm?" you hum "i proved you wrong" he grumbles, abnormaly quiet.

"about what ?" you question

he looks up at you, smirking smugly " 'bout me not being able to behave, didn't kill any of your shitty human companions even though i had every right to" he huffs, cockily raising his nose up at you.

" there are plenty of people who dont go around killing others, yknow ? here, we call that being a normal human being" you laugh when his grin immediatly falls "though i suppose i can compliment you, you exceeded my expectations."

katsuki scoffs for the umpteenth time, head raised high again. he refrains from mentioning how he thought about burning the place down more times than he could count.

"is that really all you did this for ? to prove me wrong ?" you chortle incredulously " you're truly unbelievable."

"tch. s'not it, you shitty human" he grumbles, you tilt your head. "i told you why.." he mutters quietly. he won’t meet you eye like he so proudly did earlier, looking anywhere but you. it clicks.

you gasp "you really wanted to see me at work that bad?" he growls lowly to himself and you know you have your answer. "hey, it's really nothing special, i told you it's boring stuff, to everyone, no offense." you jest softly, walking a little closer to him. he squints at the wall next to you and sniffs, but doesn't back away. he meets your eye again then and you feel just like you did when he first appeared a few weeks ago, when you felt like you couldn't move, when being with him felt so..right.

"s'not about it being boring" he says lowly, lowering his head towards you "s'not about you sittin at a computer or the stupid numbers." his stare is intense, it feels like he's looking through you. "it's about.." he trails off, taking a breath as his cheeks darken the slightest bit, you can see it well with how close your standing.

" 'ts about—i wanted to—fuck— i wanted to see you" he spits "i wanted to see if you act the same at your stupid job than when you're with me. wanted to know what's so special about this shitty place that has you dressin' up an' stayin' late. i—" he cuts himself off and looks away again, shame crawling up his back as he realizes how far he's fallen, for a human.

and it barely bothers him at all.

he's quiet again and he looks down at the carpet design on the floor. you haven't known bakugou for all that long, but you think you understand what he meant. it warms your heart that despite acting mostly indifferent, he wants to know more about you as much as you want to know more about him. it makes you think about how you're both mysterious to each other in your own ways. him being a dragon and you simply being a human.

or maybe it makes you a smidge happier that he wants to know more about you. just like you want to know more about him

you probably shouldn't, but you reach up on your toes a little to rub at his suprisingly soft, blond spiky hair. it feels nice between your fingers, it feels right.

"i appreciate it" you whisper softly scratching at where his horns would be, you’re not used to them not being there "you did a good job today" you hum.

you congratulate him despite claiming he was just doing what a normal human being would do minutes ago, but katsuki can't bring himself to care when you're hands feel so good, so right in his hair.

he tells himself it's because he's tired that he isn't smacking your hand away like this morning (which he secretly regrets). he's had an extremely tiring day and he can't give enough of a shit to stop you, he won't let this slide as easily next time, he tells himself.

so for now, he allows it as he leans against your hand a little more—and fuuuck does it feel good.

you catch a slight purr like noise coming from him as he leans into your touch more, you decide not to comment on it, for now.

when you pull away, you don't fail to notice the way his head follows your warmth for a second before he retracts fully, slowly blinking at you sleepily, today must've been tiring for him.

"lemme go get my stuff and we can go home, hm ? think you've had enough of the office life for today." you chuckle.

we can go home. he likes the way that sounds.

he grunts in agreement, toeing roughly at something on the floor with his shoes "don't wanna step foot in this place ever again" his ears prick up at your laughter and just this once, he refrains from commenting when you sing out a "told you so ! "

when you’ve returned you're throwing your bag over your shoulder and already looking at the next hour for your train when bakugou stops you with a smirk, telling you he has another, faster way. ( thinking back on it now—you should never have trusted that damn smirk)

today, you rode home on a dragon—for the first and most definitely—the last time.

whooo this one was a lil extra long , i hope you enjoy ! i had alot of fun writing it ! <3 also the more cultured ones among you mightve seen that i did infact steal the havenfall forest and the yonara sea names from yuzuyas fantasy series LMFAOO, go check him out on yt his audios absolutely smack

taglist : @rosemarygalaxy @slashersl0t @guccirosegold

[live-love-be-unique]

Crossing All The Lines

Summary: Callsign: Tink. Brought into the taskforce as a hacker/ intel specialist, you butt heads with your captain.

#47. Reader is a hacker or intel specialist for @glitterypirateduck O,Captain! challenge

Also, inspiration for a chubby reader and the death of a certain Austrian from @391780, Early I hope I did you proud.

Parings: Price x chubby f reader

Warnings: Idiots in love, female reader, smut with some plot, oral (f!receiving), vaginal sex 18+ Minors DNI

“It’s your eye in the sky, so to speak” you said, holding the small drone you had been tinkering with before he had walked into your office. You animatedly showed off the newest toy you had been tinkering with, pointing out the features you had added “it has the capability to record and store six hours of audio and video. I’m working on the signal range to extend…”

Price reached over the desk and turned off the screaming you called music that was blasting through your computer speakers “I’m not taking some flying toy into a war zone” he said with finality. Laswell’s recommendation be damned, he didn’t need some little dolly bird tottering around the base in ridiculous shoes telling him how to run his taskforce.

“Oh ok, so will you be letting Gaz know you’re planning on pitching him out the side of a helicopter again to run surveillance or am I?” you say, casting him a smirk over your shoulder as you place the drone on the shelf behind you. Price groaned and rolled his eyes away from you.

You were the newest addition to the taskforce, at Laswell’s insistence, she claimed you were the best intel operative she had encountered in years. She had pulled a few strings and called in some favours with the higher ups that Price could only fantasize about knowing to get you after you had saved their arses with some quite impressive hacking skills.

To say you weren’t what Price had been expecting was a massive understatement. The day you were introduced to the team, you were all bright colours and sparkles in a sea of soldiers. Hardly military issue, as you arrived on base, you had poured your soft, rounded curves into that dress. A wiggle-dress his mother used to call them, and ridiculously high heels. The sight of you made his mouth water and his hands itched to feel your soft skin and overflowing curves. Soap and Gaz took to you instantly, bestowing you with the callsign Tink because of your love for tinkering with random projects or Tinkerbell according to Soap, Ghost took a little longer but your preference for a proper cup of tea and non-judgmental attitude towards his unwillingness to show his face quietly won him over.

The only one you hadn’t bonded with was Price. You butted heads and frustrated each other. Trading snide comments and jabs. Price did appreciate the fact that you kept a jar of sweets on your desk that you made an effort to keep stocked with his and the lads favorite treats and he had to admit that, Laswell was correct, your hacking skills were second to none.

Price watched as you spent the first three weeks of your time on base bringing in new trinkets for your small office. Candles, figurines and a small cactus that Soap didn’t notice until he sat on one day. You admonished him for weeks until he brought you in another, non-spiky one. “I’m sorry, Tinkerbell, forgive me?” he’d pouted, holding out the small succulent towards you. Your office was an explosion of colour like you, and there was always music playing, you’d even created a playlist with Soap and Gaz.

But…on more than one occasion not that he would admit it, Price found himself in his office late at night surrounded by the cloying scent of artificial strawberries from the candles you preferred to decorate your office with that seemed to follow you around, with his hand furiously fisting his cock. Your bratiness was like catnip to him. Every cheeky little sass you threw his way made him harder than ever.

You yourself, never thought you would be one to enjoy it when a man yelled at you but with Price’s gravely, low voice and the sheer broadness of him…damn...you couldn’t count the nights you spent with the absolutely non military issue neon pink vibrator between your legs imagining it was Price instead, his booming voice echoing in your ears as you came. Your embarrassing crush on the captain had stopped you from dating, all bar a handful of dates with that very tall Austrian colonel from Kortac, you thought he had ghosted you after your dates but came to find out that he had died from ingesting strychnine poison in a Romanian brothel after sleeping with a married woman.

“Are you even listening to me?” Your voice pulled Price back to the present.

“There’s nothing to hear, we’re not taking that thing” he pointed towards the shelf.

“It’s already been cleared. You just have to control everything don’t you?”

“I’m the captain for a reason” he muttered, stubbornly.

You scoffed “god, I bet you couldn’t last one day without controlling everything”

Price leaned forward, open palms resting on the desk in front of him, staring down at you “try me”

“What?”

“You heard me…try me, doll”

You can’t tell who made the first move as your hair was wrapped tightly in Price’s hands as he pulled you against his lips in a heated kiss. He groans deeply as your teeth nip sharply at his bottom lip.

“That dress looks divine on you” he smirks, pulling away from your lips breathing heavily.

“Thank you-”

“How easy is it to take off?”

You smirked, turning your back towards Price, moving your hair over your shoulder and glancing over your shoulder at him.

Price licked his lips as his hands slid slowly from your waist up your back. His hands made quick work of the zipper as he slid the dress down over your shoulders, placing a gentle almost loving kiss between your shoulder blades.

You turned to face him as you dropped your dress to the floor. You felt exposed as Price’s eyes raked over your near naked form.

Price couldn’t take his eyes away from you. The lacy navy coloured lingerie hugged your soft, rounded curves perfectly. Your eyes locked with his as he dropped to his knees in front of you.

“Tell me you want this” his eyes bore into yours as his hands toyed with the waistband of your underwear “tell me you want me”

“Price…”

“John, call me John…please” he whimpered.

“Please, John”

“Fuck” he uttered as he dragged the lace over your hips and down your legs. You shuddered as the cool air met your soaking core.

He pushes your legs apart, pressing little kisses on your inner thighs, before nuzzling his cheek against you, breathing in your scent as he lifted one of your legs to rest on his shoulder.

He looks up at you, eyes blown out with desire. Before you had a chance to think of a witty retort, he dives in, tongue sliding through your folds. You fall back against the desk with a soft groan as your hands find his hair, gripping tight as he laps at you like a man starved. “Fuck,” he moans against you. “You taste so fucking good.” He spreads you apart, adding a finger into the mix, he thrusts it in and out of your eager hole as his tongue laps at you. You moan softly, hand still tangled in his hair as you arched your back, body chasing his tongue against your heated skin.

“Stop wriggling” he gritted out, his voice strained as his calloused hands gripped the plush of your thighs.

“Make me”

Price chuckled as he grabbed your waist and lifted you, you squealed and wrapped your legs around his hips as he sat you on your desk “just once, will you do as you're told?” His hands on either side of your hips, holding you firmly against him.

“Where’s the fun in that?” You smirked, locking your ankles behind his back and pulling him closer.

Price grunts, gripping your thighs against his waist as he leans forward and leaves wet, sloppy kisses along your shoulders and up the column of your neck. His teeth nip and bite at the delicate skin, marking you, claiming you as his own.

“You have no idea how much I want you”

“Oh I think I get the idea” your smirk as his lips continued their path towards your chest. You ground against him and chuckled as you felt the rumble of a moan in his chest.

“I want to ruin you”

“Please…do it”

That was all the encouragement he needed as he hurried to undo his belt and shove his pants to his ankles.

“Your hand feels so much better than my own” he rasped as you wrapped your hands around him, lining his cock up with your pussy. You moaned against each other's lips as he sinks into you. The stretch to accommodate him is nothing short of delicious. Your grind against him as he bottoms out.

Your eyes meet as he pulls out of you before snapping his hips back against you, filling you so completely that it steals the air from your lungs.

Your hands grip anywhere you can as Price rolls his hips up into you, the way you squeeze him spurs him on as you writhe and keen underneath him. Your nails leave crescent shapes in the skin of his back as he looms over you, his arms caging you against his broad chest.

Price couldn’t stop himself, he kissed at the skin of your bare shoulder, bared his teeth and bit, hard, you yelped. Oh shit, he thought, have I gone too far?

He stopped and looked into your eyes, searching for any type of distress.

“More” you purred. You’d be the fucking death of him.

He smirks as he can feel your body tightening around him, you’re getting closer and he isn’t far behind as he slams into you with one final snap of his hips. His lips find yours as you moan into his mouth, tongue and lips clashing together as you come.

Your door swung open “about time” Ghost muttered as he closed the door again.

“So…that was…” Price stumbled out as he pulled out of you, picking up your dress that laid crumpled on the floor. He gently pulled it over your spent body. Resisting the urge to drop kisses to any sliver of skin he could see.

“Great, it was great” you smile, pausing slightly before standing up on your toes to place a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth. He turned his head, chasing your lips as you shared a soft kiss.

“Yeah, it was great” he smiled, suddenly bashful.

[ice-mint]

HOTD-Modern AU

Aegon has been caught trying to buy stuff in his father's computer. The only thing he could come up withas an excuse was that he was trying to download Minecraft to play with Daeron while his little brother is in boarding school.

To make it believable Aegon shows Viserys how to play. His dad is unimpressed until he finds out tou can build stuff.

It is a success and has the unitended consequence of Viserys enjoying the game a bit too much and inviting his best friends to play with him.

Lyonel is retired and has nothing better to do. Otto, although retired, will take any chance to get a bit of his influence back. Rhaenys forced Corlys to go and socialise with people instead of tinkering the whole day with his boat.

Things go out of hand soon. By the time Lyonel voiced the moral quandry of messing with the villagers both Otto and Corlys already had enslaved them, and were breeding them for the best trades. They have monopolized the emeralds, their power is getting to their heads.

Viserys is very damn excited to fight the Ender dragon and would like for his friends to focuss and follow the plan.

Corlys has been exploring the sea and raiding underwater temples.

Otto has built a light tower and is mining his heart away (he sells the diamonds for outrageous trades but it's still better than searching for them yourself).

Lyonel is just happy to keep his animals and build them little houses and penns.

Aegon doesn't know how he ended up having to hang out every Sunday morning with a bunch of sixty year olds, but now he is too invested to back out. (Viserys gives him pocket money afterwards because he forgets Aegon is no longer fifteen so it works out)

[wisedelusionalmarshmallow]

@rosekillermicrofic, September 6th - Book, T, Word Count - 721

It was a really regular day today at the bookstore where Barty works.

Like really regular.

Like 'all of his regulars came in today' regular. 

The couple who comes here every two weeks to buy two books. Barty learned that they trade the books once they’re done with them and then have bookclub-style date nights. Which is really cute but totally not his thing.

The old ladies who come here for an actual bookclub. Barty had to stifle a laugh at today's choice, some 'murder mystery’ that was a lot more romance than their usual mystery or horror selection.

The one young boy who spends all his weekly allowance on the newest Batman and Spiderman comic.

Even the young woman with the service dog. Barty always has good conversations with her, even though he can never remember her name, and isn’t too keen on asking for the fourth time.

The entire day, Barty was waiting for the ball to drop. Waiting for a call from his boss telling him a shipment got delayed or that he’ll have to cover for Avery again because somehow he’s always sick the day there’s a concert playing in the city over. Figure that one out.

But none of that happened.

It was half an hour to closing when Barty heard the doorbell chime, signalling someone had just entered the store. 

Now, he doesn’t have the best view of the door from where the counter sits—his manager trying to get more stock shoved on the shelves rather than worrying about the safety of the store—so he doesn’t really see the customers until they ask a question or come to check out some items.

That’s how he found himself leaning over his counter, trying to figure out the new scheduling system on their computer. He'd been putting it off all day and just needs to get it done before the store falls into more chaos than it already is. But he just can’t even get past the sign-in. His manager left a sheet of employee codes, but every time he would input it, nothing would work.

That’s when the stack of computer science textbooks appeared on the counter in front of him. Ah, the customer was ready to pay. But if they’re taking computer science, would it be rude to ask for help? No, right?

Ugh. Whatever. Without even looking up, Barty talks to the customer. “Hey man, I’m gonna guess you have some sort of experience with computers or whatever... Um, this—” he turns the monitor and points to the screen. “—is not letting me sign in, like at all. And I kinda need my schedule.” The customer laughs a little and that causes Barty’s head to shoot up. Holy—

Fuck! Why did he have to be hot? Barty awkwardly smiles at the man; he thought he would look like just another college nerd, not a literal Greek god.

He quickly surveys the issue. “Are you forgetting your password?”

“Nope. I have it right here,” Barty smiles, very nervous and flustered about the situation.

“Hmm.” The customer places his head in his hand, surveying the screen before looking down to the keyboard. “Ah.” He reaches forward and clicks a single key. Caps Lock. Could this day get any more embarrassing?

“Thank you,” Barty sighs. Then turns the monitor towards himself again and enters the password, the little ding coming from the speaker, and the application finally loads. He looks over to the books on the counter before looking up at the man’s face again. “I wish I could give you one of those for free, but my boss didn’t really like it when I did that last time.”

“I’ll just take your number instead then,” he says casually.

Barty’s ears go red. Oh my god, did he just ask for my number? Ohmygodohmygod. “Uh–I. Sure.” Barty grabs out a new roll of receipt paper, the closest thing to scrap paper that he has right now, and rips off a piece, quickly scribbling out his number, praying he remembers all ten digits correctly.

He hands the paper off and smiles at him, waiting for the customer to say something and then leave. Except they just stand there in silence. Staring at each other.

That is, of course, until the ball drops. 

“...you gonna ring me up?” 

[fluentmoviequoter]

Accidental CI

Pairing: David "Deacon" Kay x fem!reader

Summary: When your employer's name comes up in a case, your best friend Deacon calls to ask for your help. He leads you into a dangerous situation, and you come out as more than friends.

Warnings: r works an unspecified corporate job, mentions weapon trafficking and guns, threats, mostly fluff!

Word Count: 3.1k+ words

Masterlist Directory | Deacon Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

“Hi, Deac,” you greet as you open the door.

“How was work?” he asks.

“It was fine. My boss forgot to start a software update last night so we didn’t have computer access until after lunch.”

“So, you got paid to sit there and do nothing?”

“Which isn’t that much different than most days,” you tease. “What about you? Any crazy calls?”

You lead Deacon into your kitchen, and his smile widens when he sees dinner waiting on your counter. He pulls you into a quick hug before telling you about his day at work.

“No injuries?” you ask softly.

“No injuries,” he assures. “What about you; any paper cuts that need tending to?”

“Just mental injuries for me. Our financial statements aren’t aligning like they should and if it’s not fixed by the next audit, someone’s getting in trouble.”

“What do you think caused it?”

“Oversight or adding the same bill twice, I’d guess. But I think we should talk about something more exciting than my future IRS investigation.”

“Then let’s talk about that amazing dinner over there and I’ll remind you that Luca wants to have a cooking competition with you.”

Deacon has been your best friend since he moved in next door. You also harbor an ever-growing crush on him. When you saw him climb out of the moving truck the first day, you knew you wanted to be close. He’s got a stressful job, so if you can give him a break and a friend, that’s what you’ll do.

Deacon watches the screen in the situation room as Hondo explains the corporate espionage turned weapon trafficking case. It's a strange move, going from stealing trade secrets to transporting illegal weapons across borders and into areas with strict gun control laws. Metro found a lot of evidence, but when they located the weapons supply in their prime suspect’s corporate office, they called in 20 Squad.

“Wait, go back. Who’s the suspect?” Deacon asks.

His eyes search the monitor as Hondo returns to a page of surveillance photos.

“Elwin Dupree. You know him?” Hondo responds.

“Not personally, but I know someone who works for him.”

“CI?” Chris guesses.

“No. She might be willing to help, though.”

“Call her,” Hondo says.

Hicks adds, “Otherwise, we’re going in blind. Metro has intel but it’s not enough to avoid an ambush.”

Deacon nods and walks out of the room. He presses a contact from his favorites list before raising his phone to his ear.

“Remind me why we work here?” your desk neighbor, whom you lovingly call Nola, says as she sits across from you.

“Because the pay is good… and we’re desperate,” you offer, smiling as you accept your favorite drink.

“May I remind you that Dupree is an idiot who can’t even remember what he asks us to do?”

“Just smile and go with it, Nola, it’s the easiest way to handle it.”

“The man called me into his office yesterday, and then didn’t know why I was there,” she whispers.

“That’s probably a good thing for you. Considering your nickname is based off of your reply of no; lazy.”

“I am lazy! So, I don’t like to do things. He can fire me whenever he wants.”

You roll your eyes and prepare to reply but are interrupted by your cell phone ringing. You apologize to Nola before you answer it.

“Hey, it’s me,” Deacon says on the other end of the line.

“Indeed, it is. What’s going on?” you reply.

“How do you know something is going on?”

“It’s mid-morning on a weekday. And you never call me.”

“I call you all the time!” Deacon argues.

You laugh before you say, “Not when you’re at work.”

“Okay, fine, you’re right. Listen, we’re working on something, and your boss’s name came up.”

“Dupree?” you inquire. “Why?”

“I can’t tell you exactly what we’re looking into, but Hondo and Hicks wanted to know if you’d be willing to help us.”

“Of course. Tell me what to do,” you agree.

“Can you come down here?”

“Uh, yeah,” you answer. You open the calendar on your computer and add, “I can spare an hour and a half, is that enough time?”

“Absolutely. Thank you,” Deacon says.

“Anything for you.”

You hang up and gather your things before standing.

“Where are you off to? Please tell me you’re leaving to go on a date with the hot neighbor you always talk about,” Nola whispers.

“Not today. There was a slight mishap for some of our paperwork. I have to run to another office and get everything sorted out,” you lie. “I’ll have my cell if you need anything.”

“Dodging bullets left and right, aren’t you? Go ahead, I’ll watch your phone and fill in Dupree if he notices you’re gone.”

“Thanks, Nola.”

When you park outside the station, your thoughts begin spiraling. You sit in your seat and wonder if you made the right decision. Will you be in Deacon’s way or be too distracted by him to even help? What if something happens to him while you’re with him? What if he-

A tap on your window draws you from your questions. You turn your head and see Deacon looking at you through the glass. You send him a small smile as he opens your door and bends to look at you. His head tilts to this side, and when he lowers to a squat, his brown eyes distract you as he looks up at you.

“You okay? You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” he says gently.

“No, I want to. Just- I was thinking too much, I guess,” you reply.

Deacon nods and stands before offering his hand to help you out of your seat. He closes the door and ensures it’s locked before moving his hand to your back to lead you inside.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Hondo,” Hondo says as you enter.

You shake Hondo’s hand and introduce yourself as you follow him further into the station. He doesn’t waste any time as he begins explaining as much as he can about how your boss is involved in the case they’re working.

“We’d like to send you in the get additional details on the office and any other information you can find,” Hondo says. “We’ve got basic floor plans, but we need insider info.”

“She can’t go in alone,” Deacon argues. “We don’t know what he has in that office. If she starts asking questions and he gets suspicious-“

You cut Deacon off by laying a hand on his shoulder and asking, “What if you go in with me? It wouldn’t be that hard for me to lie about who you are; Dupree doesn’t know most of the people who work in the building. Plus, you know what to look for better than I do.”

Hondo looks at Deacon and waits for his reply. You feel Deacon sigh against your hand before agreeing to go into the office with you.

“There’s an employee entrance without metal detectors, but you have to swipe a keycard,” you explain. “They’ll know if you piggyback with me.”

“Our techs can make him a keycard,” Hondo assures. “If you have yours, they can copy parts of it.”

You nod and pass your card to Hondo. He turns and gives it to a passing officer with a few short instructions. Deacon pats your arm as he leaves to change; his uniform isn’t business casual, but he said he'd find something more fitting.

“20 Squad is going to be close by,” Hondo begins. “Deacon can say a word and we’ll be inside, but if you need help and get separated from Deacon, try to get to a window. Signaling for help is easiest with this; just keep it in your pocket or your hand and press the button if you need us.”

You accept the small device and slide it into your pocket. It’s invisible, and you nod as Hondo reassures you everything will be okay.

“I know you can’t tell me what exactly Dupree is doing, but you’re going to catch him, right?” you ask softly.

“Absolutely. Nobody can run from S.W.A.T.”

You scan your keycard and wait for Deacon to do the same before opening the door. The employee entrance is on the side of the building, and you smooth your hands over your hips nervously. When you feel the device Hondo gave you, you relax slightly.

“We’ll walk to my desk, look at a few papers, and then go in?” you suggest as Deacon gestures for you to enter.

“Sounds good,” he agrees.

“The suit looks good,” you mumble as you walk toward the elevator.

Deacon chuckles as the elevator door opens, and you smile as he shakes his head at your flattery. The elevator is quiet, and as you wait to arrive on your floor, you take a few deep breaths. Deacon’s hand finds your lower back, and he rubs small, comforting circles before the door opens.

“Still working on the paperwork issue?” Nola asks when you reach your desk.

“Yeah, we are. This is Ryan from the Santa Monica branch,” you say.

Nola’s eyes narrow at you before she looks at Deacon’s hand. He’s close to you, like always, but you don’t understand her look. You raise your brows, but she only shrugs before looking back at her computer.

“Was it this one?” you ask Deacon.

He takes the blank form from your hand and nods. “Yes, this is the one.”

You return the paper to its rightful place on your desk before leading Deacon down another hallway. Nola’s reaction confused you at first, yet you’re not surprised when Deacon gently grabs your hip to stop you in the hallway.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

“It’s fine. Just stay calm and remember our covers. Like you said, Dupree won’t know any difference,” Deacon soothes. “And the team’s waiting for our signal if we need them.”

You nod, and Deacon’s hands raise to your shoulders as he drops his chin to look into your eyes.

“You got this,” he promises.

“I need to discuss an urgent matter with Mr. Dupree,” you inform his secretary. “This is Mr. Ryan Davidson from the Santa Monica branch. There have been some discrepancies with paperwork submitted to their office, which needs Mr. Dupree’s immediate attention.”

His secretary raises the receiver of her desk phone and whispers into it. You turn to look at Deacon, and he tilts his head to the left to signal you to stay calm and wait.

“You can go on in,” the secretary says as she lowers the phone.

Deacon opens the door for you, and you step inside first.

“Hello,” Mr. Dupree greets. He doesn’t pretend to remember your name, you notice. “I heard there’s an issue with some paperwork?”

“Yes, sir,” Deacon says. “I’m Ryan Davidson with the Santa Monica office and we’ve been having issues; receiving incomplete or incorrect paperwork from this branch.”

“My sincerest apologies, Ryan. If you don’t mind, use that laptop there and sign into your account while I bring mine up. We’ll get this sorted.”

You stand back as Deacon walks to the table at the back of the office and opens the laptop. Mr. Dupree didn’t shake his hand, ask for identification, or take other proper steps before jumping to help. It’s suspicious, but probably not what Deacon and his team need.

“What kind of incorrect information have you seen?” Mr. Dupree asks. You open your mouth to answer, and he adds, “Ryan?”

“Financial statements that aren’t matching previous months, for one. Most likely an oversight or adding the same bill twice. Nothing too extreme, just something we need sorted before the end-of-year audits,” Deacon answers.

You raise your eyebrows in surprise at his response. He practically repeated a complaint you shared during your last dinner together.

“Very well. I don’t know why the system is moving so slowly,” Dupree responds. He moves his hand under his desk as Deacon types.

You watch Dupree because Deacon’s team is getting him the access he needs. When you see the handle of a gun gripped in Dupree’s hand, you call, “Gun!” and drop to the floor just before he shoots above your head.

Deacon pulls his own weapon and points it at Dupree as he demands, “Put the gun down. I’m Sergeant Kay, L.A.P.D. S.W.A.T.”

As Deacon speaks, you slowly press your back against the side of Dupree’s desk, where he can’t see you. Deacon’s eyes are on Dupree, but you watch Deacon because you trust him to keep you safe.

“I could put it down,” Dupree says. “But if I angle it like this and pull the trigger, wouldn’t it hit your little friend?”

Deacon glances at you quickly, and you lock eyes before you shift away from the oversized desk.

“One more time: drop the gun,” Deacon repeats.

You can’t see Dupree, but you clap your hands over your ears as you hear two shots. Everything goes quiet, and you lean forward slowly to look for Deacon. He kneels before you and gently pulls your hands away from your head. You let him move you before surging forward to hug him. He welcomes you into his arms as footsteps echo in the hallway outside.

“It’s okay. We got him,” Deacon promises.

You nod against Deacon and allow him to help you stand. Deacon keeps you angled away from Dupree’s desk, and you’re happy to avoid looking.

“Did you get everything you need?” you ask quietly as Street and Luca lead a paramedic inside.

“We did. Are you okay?”

Deacon lays a hand on your shoulder, and his thumb presses gently into your tense muscles as he looks into your eyes.

“Get her out of here. Hondo said you can take the rest of the day. Maybe she can practice for the competition,” Luca calls.

“I think you need the practice more than me,” you reply without turning.

Luca laughs as Deacon wraps an arm around your shoulders and leads you out of the office. He takes you back to your desk to get your things, and Nola rushes to hug you when you enter the open area.

“I heard the shots and was so worried!” she exclaims. “You’re okay?”

“I’m fine,” you promise.

 “Then I need you to do something. Go home and ask your neighbor out. Don’t wait too long,” she says.

You nod and return to Deacon’s side. He heard everything from where he was standing, yet doesn’t comment as he helps you into the passenger seat of his car. Once you’re on the road, he fills the silence by asking you questions about what you will cook for your competition with Luca. You know he’s trying to distract you from what happened, and you appreciate it.

Back at the station, you sign some paperwork to receive CI benefits before walking to Deacon’s side. He offers to drive you home and keep you company, which you happily accept. You never like leaving Deacon and don’t want to be alone tonight.

“I waited too long,” Deacon murmurs while walking you out.

You stop and turn to face him as you ask, “For what?”

“What your friend said. I waited too long to ask you out.”

You smile and slide your hand into his. “Did you know that Nola looked at us like that because you were standing really close to me?" Deacon shrugs, and you explain, “I never shut up about you, Deac. I’m in love with you, so she was confused about why I was standing so close to another man.”

“Never?” Deacon repeats playfully.

“You didn’t wait too long, Deac,” you promise.

“I didn’t?”

“Not if you take your chance right now.”

Deacon looks around quickly before yelling, “Hicks! Did you file it yet?”

“No; I’m busy, Deacon,” Hicks answers.

“Can you make her Hondo’s CI?”

Hicks looks between the two of you and rolls his eyes. “Yes, I can.”

When Deacon turns back to you, he doesn’t give you time to speak before he asks, “Will you go out with me?”

“Nothing would make me happier,” you answer.

Your smile grows to match Deacon’s, but he makes it disappear when he pulls you in and kisses you. The sound of clapping makes you open your eyes as you pull back. Hondo leads 20 Squad in a round of applause, and you bury your face in Deacon’s chest to hide your grin and burning embarrassment.

“My CI’s never end up like this,” Hondo jokes.

“Pretty good timing, though, wasn’t it?” Deacon asks as he wraps his arms around you.

You stand wordlessly from the couch and walk past Deacon. He turns to watch you as you enter your bathroom and close the door. It only takes a moment for him to decide to follow you.

“Are you okay?” Deacon asks from outside the door. “And don’t just say you’re fine. We both know you’re not.”

You open the door and lean against the vanity as he walks in. “I feel bad that you had to shoot Dupree. I know he’s fine and he’ll recover, pay for him crimes, and everything. But you probably wouldn’t have done that if I wasn’t there.”

“Don’t think like that. If he had refused to drop the gun or fired again, I would have stopped him. Whether you were there or not. The only thing that was different was how fast I decided to do it; he was threatening you, but that didn’t affect my reaction itself.”

You nod, and Deacon places his hands on the vanity, caging you and keeping you close. “Don’t carry that guilt around,” he requests. “It gets heavy quickly.”

You slip your arms under Deacon’s to circle his waist. Because of your position, you look up at him and ask, “Could I have another kiss to help me overcome all of this guilt?”

Deacon laughs as his hand raises to rub your back. “Anything for my accidental CI.”

“I’m Hondo’s CI,” you remind him.

“But I’m the one that gets to kiss you, so who has the better timing?”

You let your kiss answer the question, and when Deacon pulls you against him to be even closer, you know that the wait was worth it. Though you probably won’t agree to go into the office of a weapon trafficker with him again, you will always be ready to help him when he asks and comfort him when he can’t. Despite how much you loved Deacon when you thought you could only be friends, you feel more love now that you know he feels the same.

[antebunny]

IRONY

(Or: my take on a post Red Robin Dick & Tim reconciliation. Because they love each other so much, and that's why it hurts).

-

Tim can admit, once an alert pops up on his computer and he immediately opens up the live feed of Dick’s kitchen, that there’s some cruel, bitter irony in what he’s doing. Also quite a few broken laws, and bent morals, and some icky stuff which he would not like Dick to find out about. Inserting surveillance cameras and trackers all over your loved one’s property, after all, is Bad Sibling Behavior. After so long spent trying to be a good sibling, Tim is hardly going to admit what he’s doing to anyone else.

Because he’s stalking Dick. 

Like a creepy little obsessed fan. Or a creepy villain-adjacent stalker. Like a ten-year-old Timmy Drake. He never thought he’d be doing it again as eighteen-year-old Tim Drake. Nonetheless, he stalks and tracks and surveils Dick from afar without ever talking to him. It’s like old times. Jason is even alive again. Except that instead of Tim stalking the Bats because he was a lonely little ten-year-old left to rot in a huge mansion with no concept of privacy or boundaries, he’s a less-lonely eighteen-year-old who knows far too much about Dick Grayson. Too much because far too much has gone down between them for Tim to just…talk to the guy. It’s impossible. Definitely impossible. 

Tim misses the days of late night ice creams, arms resting on his head or slung over his back, trading skateboard tricks for tumbling tricks. He aches for those days with a hunger he didn’t know was possible after a childhood spent starving for affection. 

But they can never go back.

Which is why Tim learns that Dick isn’t taking his meds because his surveillance equipment detected a change in behavior. Dick usually goes to his kitchen, breaks out orange juice or soda or some energy drink from the fridge, and takes his meds. Tonight he did not. Tim doesn’t know what the meds are for, he’s not that much of an invasive creep. It’s enough to know that Dick is getting treatment. And Tim doesn’t have to talk to Dick to find out how he’s doing. It’s enough to stalk him from afar to check on his well-being. 

Now the question is: what can Tim do about it? He can’t ask Dick himself. That’s obviously out of the question. Dick would listen to Damian, but the brat resents Tim’s very existence, so best not try that route. Dick would listen to Jason, but Red Hood barely tolerates Tim nowadays, and Tim isn’t interested in owing him a huge favor for something he really should do himself, so not him either. Dick would maybe, maybe listen to Bruce, but that’s hit-or-miss. 

Tim calls Barbara. 

“I need a favor,” he says as soon as she picks up. “Are you alone?”

“Yes,” Barbara replies, immediately business-like. “What’s up?”

Tim spins around in his swivel chair. Best purchase for his lair by far. “Not cape stuff, sort of, or imminently pressing, well, it’s pressing, I just needed to make sure no one’s listening in.”

“As sure as I can ever be,” Barbara confirms dryly. Answer: there’s always a chance, in the Bats’ paranoid minds, that someone is eavesdropping. But according to Oracle, she’s in the clear, and it really doesn’t get better than that.

“So, don’t ask me how I know this,” Tim prefaces, knowing she’s about to find out about his surveillance cameras in Dick’s apartment (if she hasn’t already), “but Dick didn’t take his meds last night. I don’t know what they are, so I dunno how bad it is that he skipped, and I don’t wanna pry into your, uh, relationship with him but–”

“Dick and I aren’t talking right now,” Barbara says flatly.

So, they’re in the off-again part of their on-again, off-again relationship. Most of the time Tim is rooting for them. Sometimes he thinks they should do what he and Steph did and settle into a best friends for life relationship. 

“Right.” On his next rotation, Tim catches himself on the edge of his table. He taps one hand on the clear surface and thinks of possibilities. “Do you think he would listen to B–”

“No.”

“Right.” Tim tries not to sigh and fails. “Okay, uh. Jason?”

“Jason can’t keep a secret.”

Which is sort of unfair to Jason, but keeping a secret is relative. Compared to Barbara and Tim, Jason can’t keep a secret. And Tim is not one to argue if someone’s making fun of Jason.

“Cass? No. Same problem.” 

It’s against her very nature to lie. If Cass does hold a secret, it is by accident. Tim doesn’t want to leave this up to chance. This was easier when they had Alfred to mediate. 

Tim starts spinning in his chair again. His room whirls past. “What about his friends? Kori or Wally or…literally any of them?”

“I don’t see,” Barbara says, “why you’re avoiding the obvious solution of asking him yourself. He’d listen to you.”

He’ll listen to you. What a heavy, crushing promise to make. You have the trust of Nightwing. Nightwing, admired by the entire superhero community. It’s true, maybe, probably. That Dick will listen to Tim. He’s mostly sure of that now, after everything. That’s the problem, really. The “after everything” part of Tim’s confidence. Their trust is not from years of steady partnership, or slowly developed siblinghood. The trust Tim has in Dick originates from months of silence, of terribly intimate understanding, of shared grief and one horrible, nausea-inducing day. 

Dick hates when people leave him and when people fall and he can’t catch them. People don’t usually leave Dick Grayson, but Tim left and then he fell and Dick caught him. So Dick will listen, probably, maybe, if only because he doesn’t want Tim to leave. And Tim can’t ask, knowing that they don’t have the nice, easy brotherhood they ought to, the companionship siblings should have. Knowing Dick is only listening because he wants to keep Tim around. That’s the sort of fake compassion Tim spent his life running from. It’s not empathy, it’s sympathy. 

A vicious little voice that sounds like Janet Drake tells Tim that he should shut up and suck it up and accept whatever Dick gives him, because he’ll never be worthy of anything more. Tim slams his head into walls to shut that voice up. He won’t accept it. He cannot. He must not. 

“You’re not talking to him, are you.” Barbara’s voice has a tinge of that shaking-your-head condescension that drives Tim up the walls. The tone that carries that undercurrent of, why are you making this so hard, Tim? As if it’s so easy. As if everything that fractured Tim and Dick’s relationship is so easily repairable. 

Of course, Tim can’t explain that to Barbara. It sounds pathetic, even to himself.

“Bold words, coming from you,” Tim retorts.

Barbara sighs. “Look. At this point Damian has the best communication with Dick. And unless you have a way of tricking Damian into–huh.”

Tim, whose manipulative, stalkery little brain went in the exact same direction as hers, echoes her exclamation. “Oh. Yeah. Hm. Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Unfortunately,” Barbara says, voice dry as the desert Tim was reborn in, “yes.”

The Belfry, a secret headquarters perfectly unobtrusive in Gotham’s old gothic and industrial skyline, was built by Tim and Barbara shortly after Bruce’s return. Since it’s so much newer than the Clock Tower, its inhabitants are not yet established. Where the Clock Tower houses the Birds of Prey, and Barbara’s friends in general, the Belfry sees a small but wide-ranging group of heroes coming in and out. Dick, Cass and Steph are the only other Bats to be allowed in.

Tonight, a little eleven-year-old boy crouches in the welcome darkness of one of the many nooks and crannies, dagger in his hands, and pretends with all his might that he belongs. 

“…at least wrap it,” Barbara is saying as she disengages the many, many security systems and enters the many passwords to get into the Belfry. 

“What’s the point?” Tim argues. “It’s not like–”

Both he and Barbara freeze. Tim raises a hand slowly to his belt. Barbara fingers one of the many buttons on her wheelchair. He gestures her to the left. They’re caught in front of the huge floor-to-ceiling windows. With ceilings as high as a warehouse (it’s a bell tower, after all), those windows are high indeed. 

And then–

“Oracle. Red.” Damian emerges from the darkness like the little gremlin that he is, chin held high in his Robin uniform while he omits the Robin part of Tim’s new superhero name. “I have been here long enough that I could’ve killed both of you. How careless of you to not notice.”

Translation: Damian had been hoping to go unnoticed for longer.

“Here, where you most definitely do not have access,” Barbara points out. She wheels closer now that they know it’s just Robin.

Tim, while Damian is distracted with Barbara, sidles over to a table as stealthily as he knows how and sets down his package. 

“Clearly, your security standards are in need of upgrading,” Damian sniffs. Then his eyes narrow as he notices what Tim is doing. “Drake. What is that package.”

“None of your business,” Tim snaps back immediately. He moves to cover it with his back. “Get out of here. Invites only, you weren’t invited, you know how it is.”

Damian folds his hands behind his back and raises his nose. “It is for Grayson.”

“For Christ’s–how did you know?” Barbara demands.

“You just confirmed it,” Damian replies smugly.

Barbara rolls her eyes. “Okay. Fine. It’s for Dick. Happy now?”

“No.” Damian marches up to Tim, then folds his arms, dagger and all, over his chest when Tim blocks his path to the package. “Tell me what you are giving to Grayson.”

Tim leans back against the table and folds his own arms over his chest, affecting a casual state of relaxation he absolutely does not feel. “I said, none of your business.” 

In truth, there’s something so heart-breakingly ten-years-old about Damian’s behavior. His cool older brother is part of a cool group of friends with a secret hideout that Damian is not allowed into. Of course he broke into it. Damian, under all his bluster and bravado, wants to be a part of it all. He’s only human. He’s only eleven years old.

“You may be poisoning him,” Damian insists.

Tim laughs. “That’s more your wheelhouse, isn’t it?”

Seems like Damian hasn’t yet heard the saying your wheelhouse, because he scowls but doesn’t respond. Oddly enough, Tim feels worse about that than he does about the actual insult. Kids are not their parents or the secret assassin society they come from, he knows, he knows this. Yet this intellectual knowledge always flies out the window in favor of emotional responses when it comes to Damian. 

“It’s not,” Barbara interrupts, before they can come to blows. “It’s just something to make him feel better, since he stopped taking his meds. Now will you leave?”

Damian scowls again, this time resembling an angry kitten more than a fearsome assassin. Not that he ever has resembled a fearsome assassin, despite all the assassination attempts. For all the pent-up resentment and bitter anger Tim has about Damian, he can’t help but find the kid a little cute. 

(The thing is, back before everything, Tim really wanted a little sibling. Back before everything, Tim used to dream about Jason coming back).

(Isn’t it funny how the universe keeps giving Tim what he wants just to spite him?)

“Fine.” Damian glares at both of them in turn. “Since both of you are so incompetent in taking care of Grayson, I will do it.” 

And he sweeps out of the Belfry with all the righteous fury that an eleven-year-old can muster. 

Tim and Barbara finally make eye contact after Barbara ensures, using the Belfry’s surveillance cameras, that Damian has exited the building for good. Then they both burst into laughter. The rafters ring with the force of it, pealing like the bells on Sunday morning. Barbara slaps her knee. Tim leans back on the table, hands clasped over his stomach, and shakes.

“I can’t believe,” Barbara says, once she’s calmed down enough to get a proper sentence out, “that we just tricked a kid into doing our dirty work for us.”

“Hey, if it works,” Tim says, voice full of mirth. 

He easily identifies himself as an adult despite only recently turning eighteen. It is impossible to feel like a child, he reasons, after waking up in the desert. After running Wayne Industries, however briefly. After striking out on his own. After everything.

Perhaps that’s why he gets along so well with Barbara these days. She understands that he is not a kid anymore, even if she wasn’t there for everything. Dick, on the other hand, still sees Tim as the kid he was. (As Robin). As the Before Everything Tim Drake that the real Tim is getting so very tired of thinking about. So what if he misses all of it, the good and the ugly? That’s just the nostalgia speaking. That’s just part of growing up. Tim had to grow up fast, so he did. He did what he had to do and he won’t let himself regret it.

[starbandit]

Skyline (K.N.J)

Requested- Namjoon ceo! Au with age gap with reader being a one night stand. Maybe a little toxic! Namjoon? Honestly as fic with namjoon ceo vibes

contains- ceo!namjoon, age gap, tipsy sex, oral (f!receiving), making out, semi-public sex, light degradation, dirty talk, slight hair pulling, unprotected sex, praise 18+ MDI!!!

word count - 2.4k/unedited

You couldn’t help but groan as you watched your boss leave his office. He had a stack of papers in his hand and you just knew they were about to be thrown onto your desk with some crazy demand. 

“Hello, sir.” You greeted with a fake smile on your face. “How are you?” 

You watched as he plopped the papers on your desk with a loud thud. “Well, I’ve been better, Y/N.” He stated with a sour look on his face. “I need these scanned in, organized, emailed, and filed all by….” He looked at the expensive watch decorating his wrist. “Five thirty p.m.” 

You looked at the time on your computer. It was already three, there was no way in hell you would finish all of that in two hours. You tried to hide the expression on your face. “Of course, I’ll do my best.” You nodded at him. 

“Great, I’d do it myself-” You knew that was a damn lie. “But I’m meeting up with some friends for drinks tonight so I need to leave early.” He flashed a smile at you. “Have a good night, Y/N.” 

“You too, Mr. Kim.” You let your expression drop as he turned around. You watched as he got onto the elevator and disappeared from sight before you let out a loud groan, letting your head hit your desk. “I’m never getting out of here.” 

“Sir, I got those reports done last night, and here is the coffee you wanted.” You set a quick pace behind Namjoon. He grabbed the coffee from your hand, trading it for yet another stack of papers. 

“Great, I need you to take notes in this morning's meetings.” He stated, rounding a corner. “I’m trying to land a deal with a company overseas, so make a good impression.” He stopped in front of the meeting room. “Sit quietly.” 

You nodded and followed behind him, waving as he introduced you to the room. You took your seat in the corner of the room and got ready to take your notes. 

You let your thoughts wander as you walked down the street, getting ready to collect the lunch that you had called in for the executives. You had accepted the job as a stepping stone into the company, hoping to put your degree to good use. But it had been well over a year since you graduated and began working for ‘Mr. Kim’ and you were still stuck running errands. Unfortunately, the pay was too good for you to even consider getting another job, and… maybe you had a small crush on your boss. 

You returned to the office with the bags of food and prepared the spread in an empty meeting room. The executives were expected to return any minute, so you wasted no time in setting it up. 

“Ah, Y/N, thank you so much for doing this.” You quickly turned as soon as you heard your boss speak up from behind you. 

“Absolutely no problem, Mr. Kim. I hope you all enjoy the food.” You painted on a kind smile and headed for the door, hoping to shove some food in your own mouth before Namjoon asked for some other ridiculous request. 

The rest of the day was pretty uneventful. You were sent out a few more times to gather drinks and snacks, and said goodbye to the executives from your desk as Namjoon showed them the way out. You continued to type up your reports and tidy the office as Namjoon did some work in his office. 

“Y/N, can you meet me in my office?” Namjoons voice came from over the speakers in the meeting room. You rolled your eyes. Here comes the request. Pick up my dry cleaning,Y/N. Go pick up this random imported cheese from across town, Y/N. You silently trudged across the office before painting a fake smile on and knocking on the glass door. “Come in!” 

“You wanted to see me, sir?” You stepped in. 

“Y/N, yes, take a seat.” He motioned to the chair in front of his desk. You slid into the chair and waited. “I just wanted to express my gratitude for everything you do.”

Your heart fluttered at the praise. “Oh! Well, thank you. I uh… I always wanna try my best for you and the company.” You stared into his eyes. His expression softened slightly as he smiled. 

“I’m really happy to hear that.” He chuckled. “I would uh… like to treat you to a drink tonight, just as a thank you.” 

“Oh!” You nodded. “Okay, yeah, that… that sounds great!” You instantly regretted accepting the offer. He wasn’t a horrible person by any means, but were you really about to spend your evening with the person that made you want to rip your hair out? Shit, there was no backing out now. 

“Great!” He pushed out of his chair. “Go ahead and collect your things and we can head out.” He began picking up his items and packing them away in his bag. 

Oh this was happening now, like right now. You quickly stood to collect your stuff. One drink and then you could leave. That’s all you had to do. It would be easy enough. Right? 

“So, tell me about yourself.” Your boss set the glasses down on the table of the bar. “What happens in the life of Y/N outside of work?” 

You muttered a small thank you to him and took a sip. “Well, sir,” 

“Just call me Namjoon.” He interrupted. “We’re not in the office, this is casual.” 

“Namjoon,” You corrected. “I can almost promise my life isn’t that interesting. No big trips or anything, I work, eat, and sleep.” You were a little embarrassed to not have much to say about your life. 

Namjoon hummed and took a sip of his beer. He had taken off his tie and suit jacket, and loosened the top few buttons of his shirt. His hair was now gently tousled instead of gelled down, the black and gray locks falling onto his forehead. He looked… soft. Less like a CEO and more like a husband. You tried to shake off the weird feeling it was giving you. 

The two of you fell into a nice conversation. You learned about his life. How he had been married in college, how she fell pregnant, how the baby wasn’t his. He gave you the details of the divorce and how he built up his career. Thrown in between stories were compliments and comments about how your blushy cheeks looked cute in the dim bar lighting. 

You finished up your third drink, body feeling fuzzy and warm. You and Namjoon headed out of the bar, you holding onto his arm with drunken giggles coming out of your mouth. You can’t exactly remember what happened, or when, but you found yourself pressed against the wall of the bar in the alley, with Namjoon holding your face as the two of you feverishly made out. 

“God, I’ve been wanting this for so long,” He moaned against your lips. “Take everything in me to not take you at work in those tight skirts.” His hand met the flesh of your ass from under your skirt. He kneaded the skin, sucking marks into your neck as he felt your body. 

“You should have.” You teased back. Your hands trailed up his chest, toned muscle flexing under you hands, and grabbed the collar of his shirt, pulling him back in for another kiss. “I’d let you take me right in this alley, Mr. Kim.” 

“I’ll give you an even better offer.” He pulled you closer. “Why don’t we go fuck where all of Seoul can see us?” 

Your legs went weak. Was he suggesting what you thought he was? You quickly nodded without another word and let him grab you by the wrist. Namjoon dragged you down the street and back to the office building. 

Once in the elevator, you couldn’t keep your hands off each other. Namjoon had picked you up and pressed you against the wall, hands gripping and kneading your ass. You two messily made out, tongues twisting against each other, teeth clashing. Your hands slid from his shoulders to his biceps, squeezing the hard muscle under his shirt. 

Namjoon didn’t even allow you to walk to his office, instead opting to carry you while you sucked red and purple marks into the tan skin of his neck. He slid the remaining objects on his desk to the floor and sat you on top of the wood. 

You had never looked out his office window at night before. You could see almost all of Seoul, lights twinkled for as far as the eye could see. It was gorgeous. Namjoon had settled between your legs while you stared out of the window. 

“Shit,” You gasped as his breath hit your thighs. Soft kisses trailed up the skin, stopping at where your skirt had ridden up. Your skin prickled at the feeling. 

“I can stop.” He rested a warm hand on your thigh. His fingers traced shapes on the exposed skin. “We can stop, no hard feelings.” 

You took a deep breath. Fucking your boss probably wasn’t the smartest decision you had ever made. But… he was hot. Fuck it, you nodded your head. “Please, I want you.” You buried your hands into his hair. “Keep going.” 

He smirked and pushed your skirt up the rest of the way, bunching the fabric up at your waist. You sat exposed for a moment while he stared. “What a slutty choice of panties for the office.” He commented before running a finger over the, now soaked, lace. He continued to slid his finger around over your slit, collecting juices and teasing. He pulled his finger away and popped it into his mouth, humming as he licked it clean. 

After that, he wasted no time. Namjoon slid your panties to the side and got to work, eating you out like you were his last meal. A shaky gasp left your lips as you threw your head back, a loud moan ripping its way from your stomach. 

His warm tongue danced around your folds, licking around all the sensitive areas until he finally landed on your clit. He switched between fast motions and sucking, getting you close enough to teeter on the edge of an orgasm. You couldn’t believe how fast you had gotten to the edge. 

“F-Fuck,” You whimpered as he slid his tongue into your entrance. “Fuck, Namjoon!” Your hands gripped his hair tight, pulling him in closer as you began to fall over the edge. “I-I’m, shit.” You couldn’t find the words to form a sentence. 

The heat in your belly exploded as your muscles tensed up. Your hips twitched up as your pussy clenched rapidly around his tongue. Wetness dripped from your pussy down your thighs and ass, coating the wood of the desk. 

Namjoon pulled away, lips bright pink and glistening. He looked up at you with hooded eyes and bit his lip. “Wanna keep going?” He stood up, now towering over you. 

You nodded enthusiastically and pulled him down for another kiss as he undid his slacks. The pants dropped to the floor with a thud, his belt buckle hitting the hardwood floor. By the time you pulled away, his underwear and pants were long gone, kicked somewhere in the shadows of his office. 

Your jaw nearly fell to the floor when you looked down. Namjoon was rock hard, tip red and leaking, but the size is what got you. It was nearly as long as your forearm, and you weren’t even sure if you could wrap a hand around him. “There is no way that will fit inside of me.” You mumbled. 

Namjoon chuckled. “Let's try.” He began to tease your entrance with his tip. He watched your face as he pushed in, stopping at the first sign of discomfort. He waited patiently for you to give him the sign to continue on. 

He was filling you up so good. So deep. Touching and massaging places you never knew even existed. You groaned as he slowly began to move, hitting the perfect angle. You pulled Namjoon down and wrapped your arms around him. Your fingertips dug into his clothed back. His muscles tensed under your hands as he thrusted, the desk creaking under every movement. 

“I knew you could take it, such a good girl.” Namjoon grunted. “Such a whore, letting me fuck you on my desk.” He pulled back to run a hand through your hair before tugging on it. “Who owns this pussy? Hm?” 

You let out a loud whine. “You, you do, sir.” 

A smirk painted Namjoons face. He mumbled out a quick praise and picked up the pace, absolutely assaulting your pussy. You weren’t sure if you would be able to walk right tomorrow. 

“Shit, you feel so good.” He groaned. You whimpered in response and gripped him harder, holding onto your boss as if he was the only thing keeping you grounded. Like if you let go of him the ocean waves would pick you up and drag you away. 

You could feel the waves building up in your lower tummy. The heat grew between your legs and through your belly. A slew of curse words left your mouth as the heat exploded, your fingertips dug into the firm muscle of Namjoons back.

Namjoon let out a groan as your pussy pulsed around his cock. The friction from that alone was enough to push him over the edge and he bottomed out before spilling inside of you. His cock throbbed deep inside of you as he came, hot seed coating your insides. 

You sat for a moment, both attempting to catch your breath before he pulled out. When he finally did, a hiss left your mouth from the sudden emptiness and the feeling of cum dripping out of your pussy and down your ass. The fluid dripped down and pooled on the desk. 

Namjoon had made quick work of getting redressed. By the time you had gathered yourself enough to pull on your underwear, he was fully clothed and standing by the door. He watched as you got yourself dressed and attempted to fix your hair. 

“Y/N, would you like to see the view from my penthouse now?”

[kenziesimsblog]

SIMS 3 YOUTUBER LEGACY

SIMS 3 YOUTUBER LEGACY

FOR THIS LEGACY YOU CAN CHOOSE WHERE YOU LIVE BUT MUST BE A CITY CELEBRITY WORLD FOR GEN ONE PLEASE NOTE NOT ALL OF THIS INFORMATION OR TRAITS/GOALS FIT THE YOUTUBERS!

GEN 8 WAS A FILLER BECAUSE I COULDNT THINK OF ANYONE THEY HAPPENED TO POP UP ON MY RECOMMENED !

GENERATION 1- TARA YUMMY

you grew up in a rural town moving to the big city as soon as you got the chance , your confident with yourself and love to be social what does the city life hold for you?

STYLE PREFERENCE - Y2K

TRAITS - social butterfly, irresistible, party animal, dog lover and vegetarian

LIFETIME WISH- blog artist

GOALS

run a 5 star blog

get a partner have a few kids THEN BREAK UP no marriage yet

go clubbing every saturday night

adopt a dog -your a party animal throw birthday parties every weekend

throw parties for holidays sometimes -do not eat meat your a vegetarian

become a five star celebrity

when you reach 8 days before elder status get back with your ex and have a private wedding with your family

complete your lifetime wish then gen complete

OPTIONAL IF YOU HAVE THE MODELING MOD JOIN MODEL CAREER AND MASTER MODELING SKILL*

GENERATION 2- SAM AND COLBY

your parent was kinda of a party animal they never really grew up as soon as you reached young adult status you left.

STYLE PREFRENCE - DARK ACADEMIA

TRAITS- adventurous, night owl, rebellious, loves the outdoors and easily impressed

LIFETIME WISH- paranormal profiteer

GOALS

meet your best friend in high school and stay friends your whole life -pull pranks -when your first move out have atleast 2 roomies aside from your best friend

move out of roomie house with your best friend -join ghost hunting profession with bff

fall in love with co worker or bestie

get married fast

have as many kids as you want

must have triplets {can cheat this}

complete lifetime wish

GENERATION 3- STURNIOLO TRIPLETS

you and your triplets have always been close and its hard to move on

STYLE PREFERENCE - STREETWEAR

TRAITS (only give to main heir) - good sense of humor, friendly, schmoozer , excitable, and vehicle enthusiat

LIFETIME WISH- reach max influence with all social groups

CAREER- self employed

GOALS {follow with heir}

stay close to other triplets

you all move in together -you go to uni for fun ultimately dropping out

meet partner in uni

join any freelance career -only have one kid

be extremley close to child and partner

GENERATION 4- SIMPHORA (WRITTEN BY @simphoraa)

Name - Simphora °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𐦍༘⋆

Description - You like to call yourself the “Jack of All Trades”, and eh.. you may not be actually considered one. But, you have a lot of interests, passions, the undying urge to explore new things, and acquire more knowledge and skills. Go show the world what you’re truly capable of!

Aesthetic - Luxurious Baddie

Traits - Ambitious, Dramatic, Computer Whiz, Hopeless Romantic, Workaholic

Lifetime wish - Forensic Specialist: Dynamic DNA Profiler

Goals:

Enroll in University and major in Technology

Live off-Campus and have one roommate

Get the disliked relationship with your roommate, and then find a reason to kick them out

Earn the Technology Degree

Reach level 10 in the Law Enforcement Career (choose the forensic branch)

Master the Logic skill

Create a Online Dating Profile

Fall inlove quickly with someone from the Online Dating website

Play video games once a day

Become a streamer, and livestream every Friday night (this is optional because you need to download the streamer mod from ModtheSims)

Befriend some supporters

Have as many kids as you want

GENERATION 5 - FLORYDA (WRITTEN BY @florydaax)

your life was cozy you wanted it more!

TRAITS- bookworm, cat person , clumsy, loner and socially awkward

LIFETIME WISH- the cat herder

CAREER- Lawyer (custom career by missyhissy) or law enforcement

GOALS

Join the Ballet/Dance after school activity as a child

Get a parttime job at the supermarket as a teen -Go to university and get a degree

Have at least 2 cats -Get married to your first boyfriend/ partner

Have 2 kids

Buy and read books every week

Master the Social Networking and Writing skills -Complete the lifetime wish and reach the top of the career

GENERATION 6- MR BEAST

you had a good life and you want to make sure others do to even if yours goes downhill

STYLE PREFERENCE= COMFY/ CASUAL

TRAITS- good, lucky, nuturing, ambitious, and charismatic

LIFETIME WISH- leader of the free world

CAREER- political

GOALS

donate to a charirty every week -do any opportunity that earns money or relationships

you meet a partner in high school but they cheat on you

your single for a while, until you meet a single parent

become close to them and there child

adopt 2 strays

adopt a kid

play a lottery when you can

your partner suddenly dies take in there kid'

have atleast one kid with your partner before they die

never remarry

complete lifetime wish

never have a bad relationship or distant friends

GENERATION 7- CATALEAH

you love animals and want to save them all

STYLE PREFERENCE - COTTAGECORE

TRAITS- animal lover, eco friendly, loves the outdoors, socially awkward and green thumb

LIFETIME WISH- the ark builder

CAREER- horseman

GOALS

get your first animal as a gift from your parent

have two of each animal that lifetine wish says

farm animals optional

master gardening skill

have a "perfect" garden

go to equestrian lot

learn to ride horse

be close to every animal

meet another animal lover

be close to your kids you lost your parents

complete lifetime wish

GENERATION 8 - CARLO AND SARAH

you want the perfect love life

STYLE PREFERENCE- FANCY

TRAITS- hopeless romantic, family orenited ,artistic, friendly and neat

LIFETIME WISH - surronded by family

CAREER- FREELANCE ARTIST

GOALS

meet your best friend in high school

when you graduate go to france

find your partner there

they move to town you get married

have 5 kids

do a family activity every holiday

throw many parties

complete lifetime

DONE

TAG ME IN POST I WOULD LOVE TO SEE!

[notedchampagne]

its hard to try and find a modern day equivalent to necromancy as a trade/job because i feel like the essentials of it have to be 1) niche 2) concerning at first to most, more popular in richer or legacy families 3) depending on the necromancy, actual construction of a sort 4) for harrowhark in particular, something that allows her to operate alone in a basement and without a ged. thus i have concluded that the best options for harrowharks job in 2023 are 1) computer science 2) mortician (family business) and 3) tumblrs very beloved chocolatier man amaury guichon

other additions from the notes: crime scene cleanup, old time chemist, amateur lepidopterist, taxidermist, catacomb caretaker

[thissortofsorcery]

Hiii, Gabii 💕

For the soft fic prompt meme:

14. Phone calls

and/or

17. fixing the other persons clothes absentmindedly or like tucking their hair behind their ear U KNOW WHAT I MEAN THAT SOFT STUFF

Thank you 🫶

YAM I FINISHED IT

I'm sorry it took me so damn long to fill this prompt for you. I know you like it when they're soft! I hope you like this one.

--

Steve never feels more grown-up than when he and Billy cook together.

It started during senior year — as a dare, of all things. They weren’t even together then, Billy hiding behind a wall of toxic masculinity to protect himself from Neil. He still tracked Steve’s every movement with his eyes. Steve was completely oblivious to his feelings and why his gut twisted every time Billy gave girls that look of his.

“I doubt you can cook anything with the shit you got in your house, pretty boy,” Billy had said, lip curling derisively at the content of Steve’s fridge. “When’s the last time you bought groceries?” 

Steve proceeded to cook the best improvised scramble he’d ever done out of sheer determination to make Billy eat his words. He’d had no idea it would turn out good when he started. Usually, his cooking attempts had a 50/50 chance of turning out wonderful or having to be tossed based on the smell alone.

Two years later, and Steve’s a lot better at cooking. He can make all the basics and some fancy stuff, too, with Billy or on his own — but the favorite meals are the ones he and Billy cook together, arms brushing, hips bumping each other out of the way, spoons being offered to taste. 

Cooking together is mostly a weekend thing since their shifts end hours apart. Steve’s used to fixing something up quick when he gets home from work so it’s ready by the time Billy is done at the garage. Saturday and Sunday are the days they go all out.

So Steve is caught off guard when his phone rings fifteen minutes before his shift ends on a Wednesday, and it’s Billy calling.

“I wanna try making Ceviche,” is what Billy says, skipping the ‘hello’ and going straight to the point. “So, do you want fish or shrimp?” 

“You want to make what?” Steve frowns, barely recognizing the name. He flails toward his work computer to open Google, but he doesn’t know how to spell it out. “Wait, where are you?” 

“At the grocery store, Harrington. Keep up,” Billy snarks affectionately. “It’s, like, cooking fish with lemon juice. It’s great.” 

“What are you doing at the grocery store?” 

“I got off work early. Fish or shrimp, Steve, come on.” 

“You know how to make this thing?” Steve says. He’s known Billy long enough that he doesn’t doubt Billy’s cooking skills, but he’s never heard of this dish before or that Billy had and liked it. 

“Yeah, pretty boy, it’s called YouTube. It has cherry tomatoes in it; you like those.” 

Steve grins. “I do,” he says. “Go with fish, I guess.” 

“Great,” Billy says and hangs up immediately. Steve smiles at his phone for no reason.

He’s home half an hour later, and he finds Billy at the kitchen counter already, dicing up the fish fillets into little cubes. Billy’s freshly showered, his work clothes traded for soft sweatpants and a tank top. Steve stops to admire the curve of his strong shoulders and the swell of his biceps, his eyes following the familiar expanse of golden skin that still makes his heart flutter years later.

“Hey,” Steve says, announcing himself as he enters the kitchen, so Billy has time to put the knife down before Steve hugs him from behind. Steve buries his nose in Billy’s shoulder, breathing deeply. Billy leans back against him, humming contentedly as Steve strokes Billy’s sides. 

“Hi,” Billy says. “I’d hug you back, but my hands are gross.” 

Steve kisses Billy’s shoulder and snorts. “It’s fine. How can I help?” 

“Can you get started on the garlic?” Billy directs. Steve follows, and they fall into a familiar dance in their tiny kitchen, sharing counter space and anecdotes about their days.

Cooking together is peaceful, the way few things in their lives have been, and Steve lets the feeling of home and family wash over him. His shoulders relax, and the headache that’s been threatening to bloom in his right temple fades away, insignificant in the face of Billy’s laughter at Steve’s impressions of his coworkers. 

A light touch to Steve’s forehead makes him blink. He looks away from the lemons he’s squeezing to find Billy brushing away a lock of hair that had started poking Steve in the eye the second he got lemon juice all over his hands. Billy’s hand is light, his fingertips soft as he tucks Steve’s hair behind his ear, and a pleasant shiver goes down Steve’s spine. 

“Thanks,” Steve says, a dumb smile on his face. Billy’s eyes are soft, watching Steve with familiar warmth. 

“Anytime, pretty boy.” 

The quiet, gentle gesture spreads warmth in Steve’s chest, down his spine, down his arms, all the way to his sticky fingertips. There have been thousands of them over the years they’ve been together, but they never fail to make Steve blush and duck his head like a preteen. They’re affectionate with each other really often, but there’s something about finding the space to have these little moments in the middle of doing mundane, everyday things that strikes a deep chord in Steve. 

“I love you.” The words escape Steve’s lips, the reflection of a feeling so natural to him that they’re behind every other sentence he says. 

The corner of Billy’s mouth ticks up, expression morphing into what used to be a smug smirk when he was younger, and now is a soft, fond expression that’s only ever aimed at a very select group of people.

“Sap,” is what Billy says, but the warmth in his tone is clear. 

“I know you like it,” Steve teases, smiling.

“What I’d like is for you to be done with those lemons,” Billy snarks, his elbow brushing Steve’s.

“Alright, alright,” Steve laughs. “I’m done.” 

When they’re finished, and the glass tray is in the fridge, Billy pulls Steve to the couch so they can make out for the hour it takes for the lemon juice to cook the fish. And it comes out pretty damn good — though Steve’s pretty sure he’s biased, only because he and Billy made it together.

[phantom-dc]

Dad Hood - part 15

‘So you need a spell? What kind, mate? I’m in a rush, so let’s get this over with.’

Constantine was annoyed. He hated dealing with Batman. The guy was a control freak, and magic doesn’t work by his rules. Constantine always felt like he had to over-explain everything just to keep the man from messing with things he really shouldn’t. Not only that, Zatanna had put a spell on him, either as a prank or as a way to help him quit. All his cigarette’s kept turning into lollipops. God, he needed a smoke.

‘We need a spell to find out where a child came from. So far we have found nothing, which is why we called you.’

Batman was annoyed. He hated dealing with Constantine. The wizard always acted like he was a toddler with a fork and an outlet. B was certain if he studied magic like Constantine he would figure it out, but he was too busy keeping Gotham safe for that.

‘Alright, let’s get this over with. At least we’ll be square afterwards. Where’s the little bugger?’

Constantine looked around. He saw Red Hood sitting at a table next to a little boy. Cute little kid, black hair and blue eyes. No wonder Batsy was so keen to help. But there was a strange energy around them…

‘The child is Red Hood’s son. We need to find out where he lived before he came to Gotham.’

Ah, so that’s why the kid felt like Death. Red Hood reeked of it and being his kid it’s no wonder the kid also felt like that. Sitting next to the kid, Constantine took out a cigarette out of habit, but it morphed into a lollipop in his hands. Cursing a bit, Constantine started setting up a simple spell. That should narrow down where the kid lived down to the city. Batsy can figure out the rest.

‘Mr. Con-man? Can I trade for your lollipop?’

Constantine blinked. Did the kid really called him Con-man? Seeing Red Hood smirk, John decided that the kid probably just couldn’t pronounce Constantine yet. Seeing the kid hold a juice-box, and not liking lollipops either way, John accepted.

‘Sure kid, deal. Now, this sigil should go here, and then this one-’

Suddenly John felt a warmth in his chest. He knew that warmth, but why now? Looking around, he saw the kid, enjoying the pop and still keeping his juice. Batman asked him what’s wrong.

‘…Nothing mate. I’m almost done. Just need to put this last sigil here and… done. Hey kid, could you put your hand right here for a moment?’

When Danny put his hand on the spell, the light formed into an Earth. A bright spot appeared in Illinois. Searching that spot on the Bat-computer, Tim found a place called Amity Park.

‘Ah, bollocks.’

‘Something wrong, Constantine?’

‘Ah, no. Nothing wrong, Batsy. I just need to go. I’ve got a… previous arrangement. I’ll see myself out!’

Constantine magicked himself back to his House of Mystery. He got a bottle of scotch and collapsed on the couch. Of course the kid was form Amity Park. Where else had Batsy gotten a kid that traded Constantine’s Soul contracts for Goddamn candy? How'd the kid even get those?

Back in the Batcave Bruce was confused. Why had Constantine fled? Danny didn’t do anything? He hoped that they would find their answers in Amity Park.

The next day, the family was taking a private plane. Bruce thought it would be best if the group went as civilians. The city wasn’t very suited to grapples and such, though they did have their suits in a hidden compartment in the plane. You can never be too sure, after all. Besides, the Waynes were in need of a vacation. That’s what rich people did after all. Danny was looking through the window, trying to see if he recognized anything yet.

‘Hey Danny, have you ever flown before?’

‘Of course, Uncle Dick! I fly all the time!’

At this, Danny floated up to the ceiling. Jason quickly grabbed him and put Danny on his lap. Can’t have him phasing outside.

‘Dick meant in a plane, kiddo. We know you can fly on your own. Have you ever flown in a plane before?’

‘Yeah! I did once with my mom! But the pilot jumped out of the plane and left me and mom to crash! He was dead too!’

Hoping to distract from that worrying statement, Duke asked Danny if he liked living in Amity, or if he didn’t remember.

‘I’m starting too. I do like it! It used to be really difficult, but not anymore! Now that everybody know that I’m dead, I don’t have to do my homework as much, and my parents don’t hunt me anymore, and my bullies don’t hit me either! But don’t tell anyone! It’s a secret, we don’t want the government to come and cut me open. So don’t tell the Guys in White, please!’

Bruce wrote down a memo to investigate these ‘guys in white’. Before he could ask Danny a bit more about it, the seatbelt lights came on. They had arrived in Amity Park.

First - Previous - Next - AO3

[a-short-alien]

JASON!!!!! I love him oh so much it’s actually incredible he looks a little funky in the doodles but it’s okay don’t look at that

In this AU, there was actually no plan to kill Jason. The Joker had decided that the reason his original plan of “getting his own Robin” didn’t work because he just picked some random kid. He decided this time, he needed to get a real Robin to fill the roll. So he kidnapped Jason during one his and Batman’s more heated fights and essentially convinced him that the Batman had left him for dead while Bruce was entirely convinced Jason had been killed. Jason, similar to Clown was put into intensive near daily training, but Jason being… Jason, he resisted quite a bit, causing the Joker to be much harder on him. Clown tried his best to look out for Jason (not fully understanding why he was there) for those months. Whenever he wasn’t busy with training, Clown was usually there to distract him from their current situation. Jason, though young and full of rage, seemed to understand why Clown didn’t fight back, he didn’t feel like he should have to pay for a fight their fathers were having, so they got along well. Some nights they’d talk for hours about really anything but Batman and the Joker. After around six months of this though, Bruce found out Jason was still alive and being held captive. In a moment of desperation, he rushed over to collect Jason but Joker found out. This led to him moving him to a warehouse, trying to threaten the Batman away with harming Jason, but Batman kept pursuit, leading the the Joker simply “giving up” on the operation and blowing the warehouse up with Jason inside. This would become the main driving force that motivated Clown to leave home. After Jason died some of the pieces began to fall together and though, he knew his father was bad he only fully realized in that moment. After leaving, Clown visited Jason’s grave often, at least once or twice a month, apologizing for not doing more, having the conversations they used to have, ect. Once the timeline changed and Jason was back, the two met and became great friends again, especially after Clown detailed the whole “leaving his entire life behind for Jason’s sake” thing. They now hang out every so often, even working together on taking down some drug trades together on rare occasion.

Jason sees “clown” as an insult so he prefers to call him Jackie

Kept their friendship kind of secret for quite a bit so when Dick introduced the two you can only imagine how shocked he was when they got along so well

Though he never asked him to, Clown usually takes off the makeup around Jason just out of respect

The two refuse to tell anyone but Dick how they met and even he’s left in the dark about most of the details of their friendship

Jason loves to flirt with strangers but when they reciprocate he’s disgusted and runs off (aroace Jason is my fav)

They never really tell anyone when they hang out, they just sort of both disappear for 6-8 hours every so often

They actually met back up one of the days Clown had been visiting Jay’s grave and nearly had a heart attack when he just popped out

Bond over the fact that neither of them can use a phone for any reason because Clown was either in the clutches of the Joker or too poor and Jason was Dead so now that they have these little computers at their disposal they’re both completely at a loss

[ofdirtandbones]

I have no idea who to ask and seeing as you seem to be similar to me in some aspects, i thought u would be the best choice

Do you have any recommendations on how to stop being on the internet so much and connect more with nature? I love nature I love being in it but I'm constantly stuck either to my phone or computer, never fully appreciating it. I have no idea what to do

Long post ahead ! Sorry lol Man I've deleted all social media except tumblr. I use it on my computer mostly and I've put a thirty minutes time limit, only usuable between 6pm and 11pm on my phone. That way I can still see art, pretty pictures, funny posts... But I don't spend much time on my phone. It took me SO LONG to get to this point. I had to build up so much anger towards social media, the way they are made to steal all your time and ruin your attention span, and how much of a negative impact they had in my life. I use to spend just so much time on instagram,,, The first thing I did was put a lock on it. It was sooo hard at first but eventually I started barely using it when it was unlocked for the day. I managed to start reading again. And I mean reading multiple hours a day. Sometimes the whole day when I felt really bad and couldn't leave the house. Traded my screen time for when I was like,,, in the bathroom or waiting for something etc,,, for duolingo ! Since I still had the urge to pick up my phone and duolingo takes so much energy haha Doing something that isn't really enjoyable (and is actually useful) everytime I picked up my phone eventually made it much less interesting. You will not miss out on anything ! I know how scary it is but I promise, you won't be disconnected from the world. It's really the contrary tbh. You won't be disconnected from your friends either ! Ask them to contact you through whatsapp or whatever. That was my main fear and it turned out fine, so so so so fine. There are still ways to get news, without being constantly bombarded by them. Healthy ways that your body can actually handle. For the connecting to nature more part, it's very easy in my city but I don't know what it's like in yours,,, If you can access nature easily and can walk for a while then I say go explore ! Take pictures of bugs, plants, mushrooms,,, Can you take a friend with you ? If nature isn't accessible for you, good news ! It's everywhere. You'll find plant growing through cracks on the sidewalk, birds everywhere, bugs wherever it's possible for them to live,,, You'll start noticing them quickly ! Can you identify them ? If you don't have books that can help you or field guides, there are ones in public libraries. Once you id something, read about it ! And the pure joy once you've identified something, read about it, and you see it again ! The feeling is incredibly similar to friendship ! It became familiar, it became a friend, you feel warm inside everytime you two meet. See what naturalist non profit associations are near you ! Do they offer free acitvities ? Can you join them, volunteer,,, Yesterday I participated to an activity at night where we went to a spot with a lot of bats, learned about them, and then listened to them with a batbox ! All for free. I do activities like that a few times a week and learn a lot ! Another tip is touch grass, literally. Put your fingers in the dirt, smell it eat it, go lay down under a tree, no phone allowed. Hear the wind go through it. You aren't very different from it. You're both nature, both alive, aware of your surroundings, breathing, eating, and a whole ecosystem just by yourself. Your tree can also becoma a friend. Keep plants inside if possible ! Take care of them, learn about them. If only you knew how many plants I've killed before understanding how to take care of them,,, Now I have over thirty plants,,, hard ones to keep too ! It's also extremely easy to keep pill bugs as pets and takes up very very little space. So rewarding to see them eat and multiply ! Read books about nature ! I know this can be hard,,, I don't mean just informative books ! Anything will help you feel closer to it. I love poetry for example ! Very short, impactful emotionally ! I hope my rambles will be able to help you in some way ksgfqgq I just woke up.

[acaaai-t]

resurface, my love

01. whispers of the wind

[fem! reader x villain! scaramouche]

cw: violence, blood, kidnapping, usage of guns, mentions of illegal drug trades, lots of cursing, bits of fluff and angst

Scaramouche was pissed.

It was evident with the grip he had on the newspaper.

His subordinates stood in the corner of the room, heads downcast. No words were spoken, for none wishes to be the one suffering under the wrath of the Balladeer.

On the small HD television hanging above his desk, a news broadcast began to play. Scaramouche brought his eyes up to watch it, his interest piqued.

"Our ever reliable detective has once again solve another puzzling crime! This breakthrough of the undergoing illegal drug trade has finally been stopped. So how did you do it, young detective?"

The camera panned to your face. He narrowed his eyes.

"Well, someone gave an anonymous tip about the whereabouts of the drug trade. All I did was crack the code and—" he switched the television off.

The silence was deafening.

Scaramouche slammed the newspaper to the side, the sound resonating around the too-empty room.

"How the fuck did you guys mess up this badly?" he growled. "I gave specific instructions and none of you were able to follow it?" His voice had an dangerous edge to it.

The room was still.

"You," he snarled, pointing at the male agent trembling in the corner. "Tell me everything that happened."

…

"You look worn out, are you alright?" your boss, Kujou Sara, asked.

You waved your hand. "I'm fine, it's just being surrounded by cameras all day drained me."

Sara laughed and patted your back. "I wouldn't be surprise. This case has been ongoing for years, you're the only one who've managed to close it."

"Well it was mostly thanks to that anonymous tip. If it wasn't for that, I feel this would never end," you said, a tired smile appearing.

"You are our best decoder here, couldn't replace you even if I tried," Sara said. "I'll take my leave now. You should quickly finish up too, everyone left already. Don’t tire yourself out too much.”

You nodded. "Night Sara."

The door clicked shut.

What was that message suppose to mean? Was it meant to be a threat? Should I tell Sara?— what if it was just a harmless prank?

You mindlessly typed away on your computer, yet you just could not bring yourself to focus on your work. It was unrelenting with the way it kept repeating over and over again in your mind.

The typing stopped. You couldn't bear it any longer. This continuous heavyweight of stress will only keep growing, festering until the host, you, finally suffocate under the pressure. It begs— screams to be free.

Pushing your chair back, you walked over to your window and nudged it opened it. A puff of the chilly autumn air gently tugged at the collar of your shirt.

The light glimmer of the moonlight was a dull comparison to the galaxy of clinquant star, the glittering white specks stretching across the vast skies of Teyvat.

"Stars..” you breathed out.

The two of you use to stargaze. It was a monthly routine, whenever the skies cleared the clouds for the river of stars to sparkle— was when the two of you lay next to each other on the grass, facing the deep blue empyrean.

He would point out the various constellations to you, rambling on about what it was and what it meant.

"I never thought you would be the one into astrology," you said. "Thought it was just a me thing."

Scaramouche rolled his eyes. "I'm a man of many things, what did you expect?"

You laughed.

No, he would never admit it.

He'd rather die than tell you that he'd learn about the stars of the sky just so he could tell you everything about it. He'd rather die than tell you that it was all because he wanted to see you smile, to hear your laughter. To see the surprise that lights up your eyes.

You wiped away an unsuspecting tear rolling down your cheeks. Everything was a constant reminder that the boy you once love is gone.

You hated it.

You could only drown yourself in work, taking on more cases than you should in an effort to forget his voice, his face— everything. But no matter how hard, how much you try, it just doesn't work.

For you could still feel the ghost of his touch brushing against your cheek, you could still hear his voice, calling out to you.

The soft humming of your computer brought you back.

Right, there was still work needed to be to finish. You sighed and pushed yourself away from the window.

"I'll just finish this page up, then l'll clock out," you muttered.

You sat back down on your chair and spun around in a useless attempt to calm your mind. A golden glint in the corner of your room caught your eye. You stopped spinning.

What's that?

It was a tiny pin in a shape of a badge. You squinted closer, there was an insignia stamp on it. It closely resembled something, yet you couldn't placed your mind on exactly what it is. You took out your phone and snapped a picture of it. Sending the picture to Heizou, you had made sure to ask him if he knew what that insignia represented.

Plink!

Startled, you looked up to where the source of noise came from, but there was nothing. It just you alone in your office.

Plink!

There it was again. You frowned, tucking your phone into your back pocket.

Suddenly the lights dimmed. Someone had cut the power to the entire building.

There wasn't enough time for you to react, for you froze—words caught up in your throat. You could see it, the tiny crack appearing on the windowpane. Whatever it was, it was slowly breaking down the barrier protecting you from the outside.

Slowly backing off, you reached for the gun tucked under your desk. The crack grew bigger. A silhouette of a person came into view. Your hands curled around the handle of the gun and tore it away from the hostler. A quick click had your gun locked and loaded.

You held your breath and slid under your desk.

The spiderweb crack only grew bigger before it effectively shattered— a loud 'ouch' following suit. Whoever was behind it must've gotten impatient and opted to punch through the glass instead.

Your eyes mirrored the reflection of the crumbling glass under the moonlight.

“Stupid lieutenants... always making me do the dirty work..." you heard the unknown muttering. A male— judging by the pitch of his voice.

There was the sound of glass breaking as the shadow of a man clambered in though the window, effectively blocking your only source of light.

He's in.

You dare not move.

"Anyone here? Hello?" his voice was gruff. "Hey little girl, I know you're in here. I saw you."

He stopped right at your desk and shoved the chair away.

You heard it crash into the bookshelf. A pair of dirty winter boots was all you could see.

Go away, you don't see me.

Much to your dismay, he didn't leave. You felt the blood rush up to your head when you saw him slowly bending down.

Fuck.

You came face to face with a man in dressed black and teal, a tall navy blue hat along with his black mask obscured his face. The only visible feature you could see was his golden orbs.

"Found you," there was a malicious glint in his eyes.

You didn't know what overcame you. Perhaps it was the adrenaline, or it was purely on instinct— but whichever it may be had you aiming the gun at his face. You didn't think twice, squeezing your eyes shut and pulling the trigger. The resonating bang made you wince.

His figure went still, then slowly, he toppled backwards and crashed onto the floor— a pool of ugly red blood slowly seeping out.

I killed him.

"Hey Cor are you okay? I heard a gun go off," a new voice trailed over. The moonlight was once blocked again, a flashlight glaring over at corpse. "Cor— holy shit! Guys over here, hurry up! Cor?! Are you alive?!"

You wasted no time in scrambling away from the expired individual. The door nearly flew off its hinges as you bursted through. Fuck if the damages you've done would cost you a portion of your monthly salary, all it mattered to you was getting out. If you were fast enough, you could make it to the nearest police station to report the break-in— and attempted kidnapping.

The attackers were hot in pursuit. You heard the ever so familiar sound of a gun being loaded. A bullet whizzed by you, hitting the wooden structure of the building. You heard the wall cracked just the slightest bit.

The Tenryo House has never been so big before. Room after rooms, there just never seem to be an end to it. Your lungs burned. Everything seemed like a maze.

Suddenly a group of two blocked the only way you could escape. You looked back, the other band was also rapidly approaching. “Shit…” you mumbled. There were people blocking the only exit. You could only conclude that the perimeter of the building was also surrounded.

"Hey little girl," you could hear the heinous intent in his voice. "Now why don't you surrender? It'll be so much easier.

"As if,” you sneered, gun raised.

One of the bigger guys stepped forward. You tensed up, the rhythm of your heart beating in your head. He charged at you, his knife aimed for your eye.

Years of training kicked in. The gun was immediately lowered. You dodged to one side, barely avoiding death.

Scaramouche’s voice echoed in your head.

"You need to learn how to fight," Scaramouche had demanded.

"What? Why?" at that time you had complained. "I don't need to know how to fight. Can't you protect me?"

You frantically looked around, searching for anything that could be of help. Your gun was near useless, for you could clearly see the thick bulletproof vest strapped on tightly.

A knife, a wrench, anything you could use to defend yourself, to kill. You yelped as the knife whooshed by, just missing your head by a hairs breadth.

By this time the other group had already caught up, their weapons were locked on you. None dared fired yet, for why ruin a show spectacularly put on for them?

"I- I won't always be around to protect you," was his reply.

The front desk spilt in half, pens spilling everywhere.

Your opponent had long abandoned his knife— tossed away somewhere. Instead, he chose to use his fists. It was like playing tag but deadlier with a block of pure muscle.

You could only run. The only advantage you have over him was your nimbleness. You were a graceful swan drifting in the smooth waters, and he was the stark contrast— a giant stumbling through a cave too small.

There was no way you could escape from the Commission without him decking you.

You were beaten near unconscious. Bruises bloomed all over your body, specks of blood and dust dirtied your dress.

His fists were curled up into tiny balls. Dirt and grime covered his clothes in ugly splotches of brown. He wiped a bloody streak away from his face. His gaze was piercing as he stared down the two boys.

"Just what the fuck do you think you're doing?" he sounded insane.

When his fists made contact with your stomach, you could do nothing, your wind knocked out of you. The second hit came, then the third, fourth.

You stumbled backwards each time the blow came upon you. Blocking each hit was getting increasingly difficult.

The light flickered back to life. For just the briefest moment, everyone paused. Then the lightbulb promptly exploded, leaving the room once again pitch-black.

That seconds under the bright light was your newfound source of energy, for you had saw everything you needed to know. Pushing away the pain throbbing in your lower abdomen, you made a break for the blade lying on the floor.

He was upon you almost instantly.

You felt an immense pressure on top of you. Your breath was knocked out. Yet despite this, you still grabbed onto the dagger and wrenched it towards yourself.

Mere seconds was all you need, an opening of some sort. Perhaps the gods above heard your wishes, for he suddenly froze over.

Seizing this moment, you jammed the knife into the only opening you found— his eye. Blood slowly dripped down his face, the knife firmly lodged in. With minor difficulty, you pulled the knife out.

It was then that his cries of pain came. You were released from his hold, tumbling to the side. His comrades ran to his side, a roll of bandages already in their hands.

You took this chance to run. In a way you felt bad, but it was a life or death situation. It was either you or him, and there can only be one winner.

One of them barked out an order. You couldn’t exactly hear what they said, but their actions told enough. Seemingly fed up with your antics, they began pelleting you with what’s left of their bullets.

One grazed your cheek and another clipped your arm. You felt your arm burn. The pain wasn’t noticeable at first, but then it started to fucking hurt. You used your hand to cover the wound in an attempt to stop the bleeding. It was useless. Blood kept gushing out, staining your new shirt in a deep crimson.

The exit was right in front of your eyes. You shouldered through the two agents standing by the door, accidentally tripping one over in the process. Small droplets of blood trailed behind you.

The fresh air of Inazuma hits your face. It felt refreshingly cold— calming the burning pain in your arms for just the tiniest moment. You weren’t given enough time to relish it before the few remaining guys also came through, guns aimed.

You yelped and quickly ran behind a random building, only to encounter a poor straggler who seemed just as surprise to see you as you are to see him. No chances were taken though. With one fell swoop, you had knocked him unconscious.

You can’t rest, not yet. The pattering of their boots were heavy against the pavement as each spilt into smaller parties to search for you. Time was ticking.

Very slowly, you removed your hand from your wound. The bleeding had slowed, but blood was still dribbling out. You’d searched the unconscious person for any sort of first aid. As luck would have it, you found a small kit. In it was a small roll of gauze, a couple of alcohol prep pads, and bandages of all kinds.

You ripped opened the alcohol pads and took in a deep breath. It took every ounce of energy to suppress a scream building up. Your arms trembled.

“Now you see why you have to fight?” he was angry, yet not angry enough to leave you unattended.

“Yeah.. sorry,” you mumbled. You yelped when Scaramouche dabbed at your wounds. “Ah— Scara! A warning please.”

“Sorry.”

“You are not sorry, I can see you laughing— ouch!”

The roll of gauze may be short, but it was enough to temporarily patch your wound. You sealed it off with a Sailor Moon bandage. The bullet dug into your flesh, but you couldn’t bring yourself to focus on the pain right now.

Not in this dire situation. Footsteps were slowly approaching, each step slow. You frantically took out your phone.

“And what,” your blood ran cold. “Do you think you’re doing?”

You froze, phone slipping away. The cool muzzle of a small pistol was pressed up against your temple.

“Put the phone down.”

You did as told.

“Both hands up.”

You raised one arm.

“I said both.”

“I can’t,” you rebutted. “Your people shot my arm and now I can’t move it without screaming in pain.”

You heard her scoff. “Fucking idiots. Couldn’t even follow a simple order. And you. You are really weak, do you know? Can’t even handle a little bit of pain?”

Your free hand slowly edged towards the pistol lying by the unconscious fellow. “Well miss, have you ever been shot before?” you replied through gritted teeth.

She grinned. “Plenty.”

“Does it hurt?”

“You’re stalling for time,” she said. A flying mirror next to her glittered. It suddenly flashed red. “Get up.”

“So it doesn’t hurt? Then I suppose another one shouldn’t be too much of a problem.”

You smiled and pointed the gun at her. Two shots was all it took for her body to go limp. The mirror fell to the side, cracked.

“The Maiden— she collapsed!”

“She’s been shot! Get the medic here!”

“Is she dead?!”

She wasn’t dead, you hadn’t shoot to kill. You had only fatally wounded her, rendering her temporarily useless.

The unconscious fellow stirred. They weren’t fully awake yet, but just for good measures, you dropped a semi-empty crate on their head. They knocked out once again.

You grabbed the Maiden’s broken mirror and ran. Perhaps Heizou can analyze it for you.

More enemies emerged from the shadows of the alleyways. Bullet shells tinkled against the pavement. Standing out in the open was far too risky.

An huge explosion rocked the ground. You stumbled and looked up, the image of fire and smoke mixed together reflecting in your eyes. Horror dawned on you when your realized they had just bombed the police station.

Another explosion was heard, this time seemingly closer to you. With no other choices left, you began running towards your abode. That was the only place you could find temporary sanctuary in.

A wail of a baby filled up the silence of the streets, followed by hushed chatter from citizens who had opened their window to look at the commotions. You heard the patters of footsteps closing in behind you.

“Just run, don’t stop,” you whispered to yourself.

“The next time they approach you, just run to me. Or punch them,” he said. “Either way works.”

“I don’t want to hurt them…”

“Simple, I’ll beat them up for you.”

Ducking through closed shops and weaving around in narrow alleyways, it wasn’t long before you reached home, completely out of breath. You grew up running around the streets of East Side Inazuma, so every twists and turns you’re familiar with. They were definitely strangers to this land, no doubt were you given a head start.

Pushing your keys in through the lock hole, you pushed opened the door just as quickly as you shut it. After making sure that every window, every door, was locked, you climbed upstairs to your bedroom.

Grabbing your first aid, you tore open your hastily made bandages. It was the same grueling process all over again—the stinging and burning of it. You checked the severity of your wound in the mirror.

Oh shit…

You could clearly see the silver glow of the bullet firmly wedged into the tissue of your skin. There was no way to get it out unless you seek professional help or you self-operate.

You could only carefully patch up your wound and hoped for the best. Tossing your jacket to the side, you changed into a more comfy wear, something suitable for both running and fighting. You were just tying your shoelaces when the door to your bedroom flew off its hinges.

It nearly crashed upon you. Standing by the doorframe was a small group consisting of maybe 7 people. More people than you liked in your house. The one standing in front— the ringleader, spoke up. Her purple lantern cackled with electrical energy.

“Now, either we can do this peacefully or we can do this the hard way,” she said, holding up two fingers. “You choose.”

“How about we do this outside and not in my room?”

She laughed. “And risk letting you get away again? Sorry love, you don’t make the choice here. If I were you, I’d surrender peacefully.” She smiled, revealing a neat row of sharp teeth.

“I’d rather not,” you said. “All of you started chasing and shooting me without even giving a reason as to why. There is no way in hell would I follow you.”

She sighed and shook her head, green hair swaying. “Then I suppose it can’t be helped.”

“No it can’t be.”

“You’ve made a bad choice,” she smiled again and disappeared in a flash of purple thunder. Small purple bats radiating a purple aura screeched.

And then they charged.

There was only so many that can fit in the room and they had all stupidly gotten themselves stuck in the doorframe, trying to fit through.

One managed to squeeze through, heading for you. In her hand held syringe containing some sort of green liquid sloshing around. You were prepared for this. When she came close enough, you grabbed her arm— the one with the syringe, and easily slammed her to the floor.

You smiled, proud of yourself. You didn’t spend years leaning how to fight for it to go to waste.

Another one came at you, and you ducked him. He crashed over to your desk, scattering everything onto the floor. You took this chance to ram into him, promptly using his body to smash your window.

You picked up the syringe from the hands of the unconscious person and began swinging it around. The tip eventually found its way to someones neck and they collapsed, body convulsing.

The temperature of your room suddenly dropped. The crowd of people parted, allowing a large man dressed in icy blue to step in. Your collection of keychains jingled with each step he took. He held out a large machine of some sort and pointed the nozzle at you.

What the fuck.

The machine whirred loudly, and you slowly backed towards the broken window. Eerie white mist pooled out from it. You felt goosebumps running down your arms.

It doesn’t take an idiot to know that you’ll probably die if you don’t get away in time.

You threw your chair at him to stall for time. Then you carefully crawled out the window as best as you can without cutting yourself open. Jagged shards scraped against your pants.

The jump down from the second floor to ground level wasn’t too high, you noted. Maybe you can make it down there without breaking a leg or two.

You shimmied over to the edge and took a deep breath. The people behind you crawled towards you. It reminded you of that time when centipedes began crawling out in massive groups from a ventilator and scaring the ever living shit out of you. You shivered at that memory, cold sweat clinging onto you.

You jumped.

Something crunched, you heard it. You check yourself for any injuries, but there was none.

Then what?…

You turned back around and nearly screamed. It was the body of the unfortunate enemy that had slipped and fell, their back bent at an awkward angle. A badge of some sort clattered against the pavement, rolling to a stop by your shoe. You picked it up and scampered away.

The badge— or pin, was exquisitely designed. Yet the more you examine it, the more you felt like you’ve seen this before.

Isn’t this…

An arm wrapped around your waist, the other suppressing your terrified screams. You angrily thrashed around, eyes wide in horror. The badge fell.

You raised one arm back and elbowed them as hard as you can. Adrenaline rush through your body once again as the grip around you loosened.

He stumbled back. One hand clutched at his nose. You could see blood gushing out from it.

With his free hand, he whipped out a butterfly knife. He looked like an maniac, smiling with blood dripping down his chin.

The group of enemies caught up. He held a hand out, and they all came to a stop.

“I’ll handle this,” his voice was gruff. You eyed him. Judging by his attire, he must be one of the higher ranking ones. The badges and small medals says it all.

The moon was at its fullest tonight, stars gleaming in the clear skies. It would’ve been the perfect night to go stargazing. The sight was almost beautiful if you weren’t literally fighting for your life.

You kept a steady rhythm in your mind, keeping yourself focus on the glint of the weapon.

A slash to the right. You dodged to the left. He barreled towards you. You dropped to the ground and swung your legs out. He fell, but was up not even seconds later. It’s the same all over again, block, parry, hit, get hit.

Dimly lit lanterns swung from the chilly breeze. It’s soft golden glow basked the streets in a warm blanket. His attacks were speeding up. Your body was worn out from the entire night of fighting and running. You don’t know how long you can keep going until you finally collapse from the exhaustion.

He was a blur of colors. You just couldn’t keep up. Not anymore.

The wound in your left arm was raging up in pain once again. You lower your guard for the just slightest moment, trying to catch your breath.

There wasn’t time for you to move, let alone react. You completely blanked out.

By the time you’ve snapped back, he was right in front of you— his blade piercing through your lower abdomen.

You couldn’t breath.

Everything began to blur together into blocks of colors. You could feel the warm blood slowly tricking down your stomach. Blood began pouring out when he removed the weapon. You stumbled.

“Give me the sedative.”

His voice sounded so faraway. “Fuckyou…” your words were slurred together. “No...”

“Tell the lord we’ve got her.”

Your eyes were half-lidded, movements sluggish. The engine of a van could be heard pulling up next to you. A blurry face appeared in your vision.

“Sleep well… never… have… back.”

His voice was fading away. You fought the the drowsiness overtaking you, but alas, the sedative was just too strong. The shattered mirror in your pocket fell with a quiet clink.

The last thing you could remember was excited mumbling of the onlookers, the feeling of your body being poked and prodded at, and the giant title plastered on the van that read, “NORTHLAND BANK.”

It was then you finally realized who was after you. The familiar print on the badges… you could only pray that Heizou— or someone, would be able to see what’s wrong.

It’s the Fatui, you bitterly thought to yourself. Of course it was the Fatui.

It was all you could remember before sleep consumed your consciousness, pulling you into the depths of nothingness.

…

“A blade; light as a feather, delicate as a bird,” he softly hummed to himself. “That blade; weighted and broken... wouldn’t you agree, my dear friend?”

The small creature curled up in his shoulder nuzzled its head against his chin. His fingers danced along the hilt of his katana.

“The moon is gorgeous tonight,” he murmured. “Let’s go report our findings to him, shall we?”

previous || series m.list || next

synopsis— [✩]

— you, the hero, disappears overnight, and the only person who looks is the villain. Not your friends, not your family, not the news reporter or any of the people who claimed to love you. Just him, Scaramouche, the very same person who claimed to hate you.

notes— [✩]

— as you can clearly tell by this chapter, I am not good at writing fight scenes 🙏 (ANYONE WANT TO TAKE A GUESS AS TO WHO IT WAS AT THE END)

taglist— [✩`·CLOSED]

@akairaindrops @the-ghost-0f-t0m0 @elernity @shayewrites @angel-suicides @magica-ren @kyouzki @nana-bri @avxntxrine @bleedingwhiteroses222 @rainingduringsummer @darthvada @dan9a-00 @omgblade-starrail @kichiyoshi @inufinuf @vvyeislazzy @alatusorrow @franaby @mellowberrie @sketcheeee @etherisy @crmnic @arizzu @vrisso @id3ru @mochicurls21 @kairuthewriter @suqarlaced @saetorii @anura100000 @divinechicha @starlightaura @karablueyt @supercoolusernameomg @uhh-traashyy @kazuuhhaaaa

[italicized usernames means I cannot tag you]

[cyberpunkonline]

The Internet: From Nuclear-Resistant to Vendor-Dependent Dumbassery

Back in the day, when the Internet was just a glint in DARPA's eye, it was designed with one crucial concept in mind: survival. Picture this—it's the Cold War, the threat of nuclear Armageddon looms large, and the military bigwigs are sweating bullets about communication breakdowns. They needed a network that could withstand a nuke dropping on a major hub and still keep the flow of information alive. Enter the ARPANET, the badass granddaddy of the modern Internet, built to have no single point of failure. If one part got nuked, the rest would carry on like nothing happened. Resilient as hell.

Fast forward to today, and what do we have? A digital house of cards. The once mighty and decentralized Internet has become a fragile mess where a single vendor bug can knock out entire swathes of the web. How did we go from a network that could shrug off nuclear bombs to one that craps its pants over a software glitch? Let's dive into this clusterfuck.

The Glory Days of Decentralization

The original ARPANET was all about redundancy and resilience. The network was designed so that if any one part failed—be it from a technical issue or a catastrophic event—data could still find another route. It was a web of interconnected nodes, a spider's web that kept spinning even if you tore a chunk out. It was pure genius.

This approach made perfect sense. The whole point was to ensure that critical military communications could continue even in the aftermath of a disaster. The Internet Protocol (IP), the backbone of how data travels on the Internet, was conceived to route around damage and keep on trucking. No single point of failure meant no single point of catastrophic breakdown. Brilliant, right?

The Rise of Centralized Stupidity

Then came the tech giants. Companies like Google, Amazon, and Microsoft built empires that depended on centralization. Cloud computing took off, and suddenly, everyone and their grandma was storing their data on a handful of massive servers owned by these big players. It was convenient, it was efficient, but it was also the beginning of the end for the Internet’s robust decentralization.

Today, we've got massive data centers dotted around the globe, each housing thousands of servers. These centers are like Fort Knox for data, but unlike Fort Knox, they’re not immune to problems. A single screw-up—a bug in a software update, a misconfiguration, or even a physical hardware failure—can take down huge chunks of the web. Remember that time when AWS went down and half the Internet went dark? Yeah, that was fun. Or more recently, Cloudstrike do something retarded and every single Windows machine running their shitware gets bricked. Fantastic.

The Single Vendor Blues

It gets worse. The consolidation of Internet services means that many critical applications and websites rely on the same vendors for infrastructure. If one of these vendors messes up, it's not just their services that go down—it's everyone who depends on them too. It’s like having a whole city’s power grid depending on one dodgy generator. One hiccup, and the lights go out for everyone.

Consider the infamous BGP (Border Gateway Protocol) hijacks and leaks. BGP is how routers figure out the best path for data to travel across the Internet. It's crucial, and it's also vulnerable. A single misconfiguration or malicious attack can reroute traffic, causing widespread outages and security breaches. And because so much of the Internet is funneled through a few major ISPs (Internet Service Providers), the impact can be catastrophic.

Why This Is So Fucking Stupid

So, why is it that we’ve allowed the Internet to become this fragile? It boils down to a mix of convenience, cost-cutting, and plain old shortsightedness. Centralized services are easier to manage and cheaper to run. But this efficiency comes at the cost of resilience. We’ve traded the robustness of a decentralized network for the convenience of cloud services and single-vendor solutions.

The result? A network that can be crippled by a single point of failure. This isn’t just stupid—it’s dangerous. It leaves us vulnerable to attacks, outages, and other disruptions that could have far-reaching consequences. It’s a stark reminder that in our quest for efficiency, we’ve neglected one of the core principles that the Internet was founded on: resilience.

The Way Forward

What’s the solution? We need to get back to basics. Decentralization should be a priority. More diversity in service providers, more redundancy in infrastructure, and more focus on designing systems that can withstand failures. It won’t be easy, and it won’t be cheap, but if we want an Internet that can survive the challenges of the future, it’s absolutely necessary.

So next time you hear about a massive outage caused by a single vendor’s screw-up, remember: it didn’t have to be this way. We built an Internet that could survive a nuclear war, and then we broke it because it was cheaper and easier. It’s time to fix that before the next big failure hits.

There you have it, folks. From invincible to idiotic, the Internet’s journey has been a wild ride. Let’s hope we can steer it back on course before it’s too late. - Raz.