#can give them a lot more stuff and a lot more places to get away from eachother bc theyre sooooo cliquey fr

[alexanderwales]

One of the dominant models of magic and superheroes is that everyone has their "thing", what I would call a bespoke magic system, but is mostly just a power that sits orthogonal to all other powers. This crops up all the time, because it's really really good for having dynamic fights, for characterizing people through their powers, for having new surprises and twists, and just generally keeping things going.

It's adaptable to all kinds of genres. Superheroes are the obvious one, whether it's canonized as Quirks or just an aspect of the setting. But I'm pretty sure that the basic concept was first invented in anime, with marital arts settings, where every character had their own jutsu or whatever, or the system in theory is all about ki manipulation or equivalent exchange but in practice everyone has their own particular niche. You can slot this into urban fantasy, giving every vampire their own special Power, or you can have some magical fantasy thing where everyone has their own unique Semblance.

So this is all well and good, but it leaves us with a narrative hole, which is progression. Having a unique power is cool, because you can think of new uses for it, have unique matchups, etc., but it doesn't give you that juicy sense of becoming more, and if you're facing down terrifying villains with their own powers, then a god-tier power is just kind of ... random. Luck of the draw, rather than the consequence of a powerful will or keen mind.

You can strip out limitations and amplify effects, and this is cool and good, or you can lean back away from uniqueness and toward uniformity, which I think is sometimes the right call, depending on your narrative needs.

So you say that actually the guy who can swap places with someone and the guy who can cut people from a distance are both unwitting hyperspecialists in the same field of magic or whatever, and that in theory, with unlimited time to train and experiment and explore, each could do what the other does.

This allows for a lot of snazzy narrative stuff. Two intense rivals "learn" each other's techniques, or at least adapt them into their own technique. Maybe the guy who does teleport swaps never learns to cut from a distance, but his teleport swap incorporates a cut into it, slashing at the person he's trading places with. A widower incorporates aspects of his dead wife's power, a mentor passes down elements of his technique to all his students, a young protagonist has some angst about using the aspect he got from his abusive father, etc.

If powers are a reflection of character, then you get to physically manifest a character's relationship with other people.

[eri-pl]

Silm reread 16: Beren, Luthien, and the fourth wall,

through which Pengolodh needs to be punched a little. Or at least frightened.

So… This chapter is a lot.

First we get a remainder that we are in a narrative frame: there are many stories but this one is the best. So I, Pengolodh, will make sure it sounds proper.

Also, why is the Lay of Leithian… I thought "Leithian" was some variant of Luthien, but it's "Release from Bondage". What. Why. I guess it's that one scene where she takes Sauron's island?

Before I proceed: I wanted to say that writing a love story dedicated to your wife and overloading it with meanings is an absolutely valid thing to do. And beautiful.

Yes, this is an opinion I will stick with. No, it doesn't mean that I think everything in B&L is coherent or well-written. Most is, but there are places that stick out.

So we start with Beren. He lives with his fatherr and a band of outlaws and… they worship a (lake? river? translation unclear.) because Melian had hallowed it.

They are so competent that Morgoth tells Sauron (his 2nd in command) to kill them all.

Again we have a character with unprocessed grief (nor surprising, as he doesn't know whether his wife is alive or dead) and it is the entry point for the forces of evil. So, Gorlim. Sauron pulls the Dune-like thing on him. I wonder which was first. Jirt didn't like Dune, but had read it.

Beren sees Gorlim's ghost, in the (hallowed?) water, which is an interesting place for a ghost to appear. good for him I guess?

What is the thing with hands? Beren attacks the orcs and grabs his dead father's hand with the ring of Barahir. Unclear which hand was that. Also, he becomes vegan.

Beren is so competent that he gets a "wanted" poster Morgoth offers a prize for his head. As high as for Fingon. OK, so Morgoth gives money for killing important people? Or at least offers money? We aren't told if he ever actually paid anyone. But the orcs still prefer to run away, so he sends Sauron + a whole army and his werewolves.

How competent can one guy be?

Also, we get an explanation of what werewolves are. Terrible ghosts imprisoned in wolves' bodies and posessing them. This chapter has more on werewolves then the whole rest of the book.

So, Beren has to evacuate through Spider-land. Which he manages to do. (Seriously, how many Fate Points does this guy have?)

Luthien is so beautiful that he falls in love instantly. I would be more comfortable if Tolkien didn't show falling in love as simultanously a) totally uncontroleable result of beauty, and b) impossible to not turn into action. But Beren is a good guy so he is polite, he just admires her and stuff.

Also, she's got the exact same poetic colors of hair and eyes as Elrond, which makes sense. Or, more precisely, Elrond as her.

Fate this, fate that, I get the point but don't like the language.

Beren gets kind of sick, because he has to gain more Fate Points pays for the great destiny he is going to get.

I am not going to repeat that part I complained about already. Let's just say there's a lot of "she/they were the most X of everyone in all times" and this sounds, well, poetic but not factual. (Also, they are "the most happy anyone has ever been". )

Daeron snitches on Luthien (part 1). Thingol is sad and confused and asks questions. Beren says "I found what I didn't seek, but as I found it I will never give it up" and that is a really good line.

Thingol, of all people, complains of having made a hasty oath. :D

Beren would take death before dishonor. Also shows Finrod's ring and Thingol isn't very impressed. (I think this may be used as a counterargument to "Finrod should have written to Thingol" — Beren has already shown the credentials he could get from Finrod. What additional things could Finrod tell Thingol?)

We get a description of the ring of Barahir.

Melian tries to calm het husband down, but he is upset and resentful at Beren. And he says that he desires the Silmaril (does he? Did he desire it before he said that? Unclear)

At least Thingol says that with the Silmaril he will give Luthien to Beren if she will want to, which is very proper of him. Also he mentions the "fate of Ards is tied to the Silmarils" thing. Everyone realizes that he just wants Beren dead (so I guess it is a fact?)

Beren is very chill. He says "bye" to Luthien, bows. And then he moves the guards and just walks away ignoring them which is an awesome way of leaving.

Melian is worried, Thingol says that Beren will not return, and if he (thingol) believed that there is any chance of success for him, he would kill Beren, promise or not.

We have a lot of "Lay of Laithian says" so I guess this is suposed to be a later edition... I should do a reread (well, first read tbh) on the Lay one day. But it's hard to read with focus.

Beren goes to Nargothrond, and (so that the guards don't shoot him) yells often that he is Barahir's son. Which must have looked quite funny.

Also, Turgon isn't the only one with "shoot the intruders" policy, but Finrod's one seems less strict.

Finrod talks with Beren behind closed doors (I think it's because C&C. Finrod isn't naive, he's just… idk. Anyway this is a smart move.) Also he is surprised and sad and heavy-hearted because he realizes he's going to have to die. At leats he doesn't try to weasel out of his fate.

Also, Finrod says a lot of interesting / strange things:

the Oath is on again. So, we are in the "oath is an active thing" situation. Probably.

there is a "curse of hatered" on the Silmarils. (Huh??? Who cursed them? I don't remember Fefe cursing the jewels, he cursed many other things…)

who speaks their name with greed, awakens poweerful forces (WHAT? So… Thingol is greedy about the jewel? And it triggers the Oath? Or what? that's… a whole new conceptual area to explore)

the Feanorians would rather destroy all lands then let anyone else have a Silmaril (I'm not sure how true this is but him saying this tells us something about C&C)

the Oath "rules over the princes of Noldor" (What. Finrod, my guy, you are a Noldorin prince too. Also, what. What about their free will?)

C&C are a problem but Finrod won't break his word to Barahir, so we all are deep in trouble

Finrod makes a speech, expects support from his people. It's not said what kind of support. He doesn't say he is going to attack Angband directly.

Celegorm takes out his sword and quotes the Oath. That's pretty metal, but also definitely not good. Curufin is apparently more polite now (iirc he was brash some chapters earlier, I guess he learned. Or it was Celegorm too?). Citizens of Nargothrond are scared of war, they get sneaky, start using poison and generally turn Nor Great from this time on. Huh.

The Doom of Mandos awakes in C&C's hearts and gives them evil thoughts. This is a very close paraphrase. Excuse me, what? Pengolodh, what have you been drinking? something made by Namo (or one of his Maiar, which I find more likely, but anyway) makes them think evil things? Go home and check your phrasing, seriously. This sounds so off. Unless it's the translation again?

Finrod appeals to pity and gets ten guys to follow him. I agree that this speech of him doesn't sound great and … I think he just feels sad and abandoned and does some emotional blackmailing here. and Finrod is awesome but not so awesome to never do anything wrong. It's not terrible, but, yes, I think he would be better without it.

[Which implies that if it was just him and Beren, Sauron would not try to kill Beren earlier. Which… makes some sense. When you have 12 prisoners, killing one as an example isn't a lot. when you have just two, you need to use subtler means of persuasion. (sorry for a bit of Sauron PoV ;) )]

Still, Edrahil is pretty cool here. I like him. Yes, those two opinions can coexist and it is an important point.

The song duel. Finrod picks "Of secrets kept," as his starting line, which makes sense in the context (keeping their disguise) but also, considering what kind of secret had Finrod been keeping (mostly from Thingol, who is btw associated with this quest) for many, many years, I would say it does have a weak point.

So it leads to "In Valinor, the red blood flowing" and we're out.

Luthien feels that things are bad and asks mom and mom tells her that Beren is captured by Sauron. Which she knows. Because she's a Maia, probably? But still, to see into Sauron's dungeons is quite an achievement. Maybe fate was a factor too.

Huan! The dog that is under the Doom of the Noldor! It seems as if this was the reason he later dies at all, that without the Doom thing Huan would be immortal. What even is he. [A lesser Maia. I don't care it's no longer canon, it makes the most sense.]

Also, he never sleeps, his sight and smell can't be deceived and he is invulnerable to magic.

C&C capture Luthien and we have their reasoning explained. So, C&C's logic as told by the narrative:

Finrod and Beren are as good as dead now

so let's let Finrod die

also let's force Thingol to let Tyelko marry Luthien

we will be the most powerful princes of the Noldor

the Silmarils, yea, so let's wait. first we will rule all the Elven kingdoms and then we can work on reclaiming the Silmarils.

No, it doesn't mean that someone else may take them!

Yes, it is explicitely about political power. (But also, Luthien pretty and Celegorm is into her.)

Also, Huan (like Celegorm) understands all creatures.

Finrod dies. Pengolodh edits it heavily. Seriously, I hereby accept this fic as my canon for what finrod said, because the book is lying. Oh wait, no. It is the translation. In the Polish version Finrod literally says "it will be many ages before the Noldor see me" and he says it without "probably" or anything, he says it like a foresight. And we know it is not true, because he got reembodied very quickly.

The original is not that bad. Anyway, it is lacking. It reads like something Celegorm would say in the situation (no offense to Celegorm who had actually been in this situation in early drafts).

[HC time: I imagine Pengolodh as very much the kind of guy to get offended by and cut out anything that looks too strange and … I don't know how to call it. Difficult? He's not terrible, but very insecure after returning from the Exile. He really doesn't want to offend the Valar again and isn't taking the best approach to it.]

And, speaking of Pengolodh and his additions, "so died Finrod, the most beloved descendant of Finwe". Beloved by whom? Certainly not by Finwe. Maybe by the people, but it does depend on which people exactly. Most beloved on the average? Most beloved by Pengolodh?

Pengolodh, my guy, I actually agree with you that Finrod is the loveliest Finwean, but please, could you refrain from using "loved / beloved" and comparisions?

Anyway, song-rescue. This is something even Pengolodh can't mess up describing. Also, Valacirca (Sickle of the Valar, that is: the Big Dipper) mentioned, and … it's a sign of Morgoth's fall? I thought this one was a threat to him. (Yes, let me remind you: there is not one, but two different seven(ish)-star constellations that Varda put in the sky specifically as a threat to Melkor. Also, of all the weapons, a sickle.)

Sauron seems to have a thing with "standing on a high place and smiling/laughing just before he gets wrecked". (Later he does it as Numenor is falling). I hereby HC that just before he noticed the Ring being in the Crack of doom, he also stood high atop his tower and laughted (because Aragorn's army was losing).

I'm tired. I'll cut B&L reread into two parts.

[bigmammallama5]

Do you sell your pottery anywhere?

Just through the shop of the community arts center I make/work/teach at! Right now it looks like my tumblers and a mug are still there, but I'm not completely sure since the website has been wonky lately. I guess?? They ship? I've only ever bought items in person from there, but you could ask if you're interested!

[victory-cookies]

god I’m so torn. I have a few things I really buy rn but realistically I don’t think I can afford all of them. So I’m trying to weigh what I should let myself but bc I haven’t bought myself anything nice in a while

[bulkheadbignaturals]

vent thing in tags idk

[swagging-back-to]

uh oh trouble in paradise

i guess all the ladies decided they wanted to fight every and anyone they could for like no reason.

ginger was humping everyone to establish her dominance and dhal hated it and now clove is fighting dhal bc clove liked it and ginger is fist fighting with jasmine who is partially blind but beating gingers ass

[5sospenguinqueen]

Djungelskog - Oscar Piastri x Teacher! Reader

Summary: Summer break means forcing Oscar to help you get your classroom ready in time for upcoming school year. 

Fluff. 2024 season. Pinterest pics

Requested: Yes by anon (here)

There's a little blurb halfway down

F1 Masterlist

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yn_ln just posted

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yn_ln last day of term. last recess, last day of chalk drawings. i’ve had a lovely bunch this year and will miss them loads as they move on. looking forward to a much needed break

681 comments

bestfriend feet on the desk? empty classroom? looks like slacking to me

oscarpiastri can’t wait to spend summer break with you 

→ yn_ln it’ll be nice to not have to share you with lando

→ landonorris what makes you think you can get away from me

→ georgerussel63 that sounds like a threat, mate

hattiepiastri does this mean you’ll have time to take me to the babymetal concert? ‘cause mum keeps trying to get out of it 

→ yn_ln do i have to learn the all the lyrics? 

→ hattiepiastri you’re a teacher, learning is in your blood 

→ yn_ln osc, help

→ oscarpiastri no, you chose to befriend her

alexandrasaintmleux omg did the kids do those drawings? 🥹belle

→ yn_ln no, that was lando’s drawing

→ landonorris don’t be silly. i can’t draw that well

teacherfriend i’ll do my best to look after them next year but i know i can’t compete with the fabulous miss ln 

nicolepiastri when can we see miss ln turn to mrs piastri?

→ oscarpiastri this is why i don’t come home 

→ nicolepiastri no, you don’t come home because yn does your laundry now 

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oscarpiastri first part of the season done. first GP victory. first broken bone. looking forward to a much needed break for the rib

4,811 comments

landonorris omg stop copying your girlfriend’s caption style

→ yn_ln he can’t help it. he’s obsessed with me

→ oscarpiastri true

→ user1 let us innnnn

user2 does a broken bone mean he’ll win the next race

→ yn_ln only if i'm there

charles_leclerc and what have you been doing to break a bone?

→ oscarpiastri helping my girlfriend empty a classroom. there’s a lot of books in there

mclaren enjoy the break. we can’t wait to have you back racing and refreshed 

→ user3 he’s literally only just left the mtc, give him a minute of peace

→ yn_ln don’t worry. i’ll be putting them in a time out if they try and take him

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yn_ln my happy place. quick lunch break. dragging my big strong man to carry stuff for me in ikea 

814 comments

oscarpiastri before that bear, i was your big strong man :( 

→ yn_ln you broke a rib. you’re only so useful. the bear can’t break 

→ oscarpiastri it can if i pull it’s head off

→ yn_ln you were a biter, weren’t you?

→ hattiepiastri yes

landonorris why wasn’t i invited

landonorris sushi 🤢

→ yn_ln this is why you weren’t invited 

→ landonorris stop trying to push me out 

→ oscarpiastri i see you practically 10 months out of the year. she can have me for one afternoon

charles_leclerc oh i love ikea furniture! can i help?

→ yn_ln of course you can. we have snacks as well

→ landonorris blatant favouritism 

→ yn_ln yes 

danielricciardo omg the djungelskog. when can i meet him?

→ oscarpiastri he’s called skoggie for short 

→ nicolepiastri the closest i’ll get to grandkids

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Oscar grinned at the face filling up the front of his phone, sliding the button across to answer it. 

“He-”

“Babe, I need more glue.” You exploded, cutting him off before he could even greet you properly. “Oh, and paper.”

“-And I broke the scissors. But the good news is, Lan said he could come and help so could you actually pick up 3 pairs of scissors, please?” 

“Sweetheart, breathe.” Oscar reminded you, a soft laugh echoing down the phone. “I’ve literally only been gone for 10 minutes. All we needed was milk. How did you manage to rope Lando into this?” 

“Rope? He was practically hanging by the phone waiting for one of us to call. I asked if he could spare a few minutes - just to give you a hand moving the desk - and he was already in the car on his way.”

“At least he’s preparing us for our own children one day,” joked Oscar.

“How have you got paint in your curls? I didn’t ask you to paint because I knew you couldn't be trusted to paint,” the exasperated voice of his girlfriend echoed down the empty school hallways. Light radiated from a singular doorway at the end of the hallway, beckoning him forward. 

“Every year, I deal with a class of 30 five year olds, experiencing freedom from their parents for the first time. And yet I feel like I need to watch you more than I do them.” 

“But it was just sat on the side, with the lid off!.”

“So you felt the need to somehow stick your entire hand in it?” 

Oscar leant against the doorframe, watching affectionately as you used a wet wipe to get the paint off of Lando as best as possible. Despite the curly-haired Brit being old than you, it didn’t stop the caring instinct that came with being a first-year teacher. 

One wall was painted a soft lilac whilst the other three had been given fresh coats of white. The chairs and tables had been organised into little groups to help you see each child’s face from the front of the class, and the drawers were freshly stocked with stationery. A little rug and some bean bags were set up in the corner for the story nook, and all that was left to do was start hanging up the wall deco. 

“There?” 

“Little higher,” you remarked, after faking a contemplative pause. 

“Now?”

“Little higher,” you leaned back to really take in the view. “Oh, yeah, that’s good.”

The white t-shirt sat snugly on his strained biceps as he held the board up over his head. The hem rode up as he stretched, revealing a nice sliver of tan, muscular back. Nibbling on your bottom lip, you sighed deeply at the sight before you. How easy would it be to reach and smack-

“Babe!” Oscar called again, turning around to check on you. “I can’t hold this- Are you checking me out? You’re supposed to be telling me where this goes.” 

“You shouldn’t look that good then.”

Clambering down from the ladder, he placed the thick board down on the nearest table and sauntered over to you. Placing his hands on your hips, he pulled you flush against him. Pressing a kiss to your nose, he trailed his lips down to your jaw and then under your ear. 

“How about we call it a night? This’ll all be here tomorrow, and you can appreciate the view without the t-shirt.” 

When you didn’t smile at his enticing offer, Oscar pulled down to look at you. Brushing a strand of hair back from your face, he frowned at the furrow between your brows. 

“What’s up, sweetheart?” 

“I’m just worried that it’s not enough, you know…”

Oscar turned his head slightly, drinking in all the work you had put together. The butterflies made out of patterned cards that you had spent hours scouring stores for. The paper flowers decorating the whiteboard that you had spent days stressing about. The stack of drawers with each student's name labelled across the front. The days of work that had gone into ensuring that each little person that crossed your threshold was as happy as they could be. A teacher that cared. 

“I know they’re only five, and they’ve never had another classroom to go off but- I don’t know. I just want them to feel comfortable and safe, and happy. I don’t want them to feel like they’re in an institution designed to make them sit in a seat for six hours.” 

“Look at all the effort you’ve put in so far. Without all the lesson planning and actual caring you’ll do when those kids come under your care. Did you ever have a classroom like this growing up? No. Neither did I. You know why, because nobody cares as much as you do.”

Straightening, he swung you up into his arms, bridal style. A cheeky grin pulled at the corners of his mouth when you shrieked in laughter. 

“Now, let’s go home, Skoggie is waiting for us. We'll grab some dinner and take a bath together. What do you say?” 

“Okay, Piastri. Take me home or lose me forever.” 

oscarpiastri just posted

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oscarpiastri dating a teacher means spending summer break painting, cutting, glueing and then being told “it’s quiet time” whilst she decompresses from watching you do all the work 

3,381 comments

yn_ln you wouldn’t stop talking and i was trying to refresh my barbie knowledge

→ user1 princess and the pauper?

→ yn_ln absolutely 

→ landonorris i’m the erika to her annalise 

→ oscarpiastri whoa, you help with one classroom and think you can take my coveted spot? 

yn_ln plus it was hard work taking in the view 

→ oscarpiastri i had a pretty good view afterwards 🛁🫧

user2 idk why but the paint hands make me wanna scream

→ user3 omg i wonder if they made the little hand canvas things loads of couples have done

→ oscarpiastri we did! they’re now hung up over our bed

maxverstappen1 think you can make some more of those flowers for P’s room? 

→ oscarpiastri i’ve got paper cuts on top of paper cuts. don't ask me to do more

→ yn_ln i’ve got loads left over. she can pick the ones she likes best 

user4 the matching pjs 🥰 this couple has my whole heart

→ yn_ln he also has mine! 

user5 i love when oscar’s insta has something other than racing on it

→ user6 i want yn to let us onto hers so bad. i would sell my soul for the couples content on there

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yn_ln and it’s done. one week of relaxation left before the new term starts. i can’t wait to meet my new bunch of kids. a huge thank you to my constant kid @/landonorris for his help and mess. and an even bigger gratitude to osc. without you, this never would’ve been finished. you helped not only physically but mentally. my rock 💕

1,681 comments

user7 omg am i seeing things? is this actually oscar’s yn? 

oscarpiastri you did an amazing job 🤍 enjoy your last week off

→ yn_ln you better not win any more races without me

→ mclaren you know he can’t promise that 

landonorris maybe if you had been my teacher, i would’ve stayed in school

→ carlossainz55 doubtful 

maxverstappen1 P can’t wait to be in your class

→ yn_ln and i’m looking forward to being her teacher. although it might be hard to fight the urge to show favouritism 

hattiepiastri ew, don’t be cute online

→ oscarpiastri you're just mad that i'm her favourite piastri

→ hattiepiastri we both know that's a lie

→ nicolepiastri it's me

user8 um, can she be my teacher, please?

charles_leclerc i think this is a sign that i need to have children so that you can become their teacher 

→ alexandrasaintmleux let’s stick with leo for now 

→ nicolepiastri i keep trying to convince oscar and yn. you’ll be next, don’t worry 

→ oscarpiastri you have Skoggie. you don’t need any other grandkids

user9 we’re in! everyone say thank you oscar for making her come off priv

→ user10 their couple content is healing my soul

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Request for F1 fics are open.

A/N: Apologies for the delay in getting these out. I've been super busy making jumpers for my upcoming family Disney trip

Tag list

@peachiicherries @rosecentury @c-losur3 @heavy-vettel @evie-119

[deadsetobsessions]

Sea Cryptic! Danny AU- Pt. 5

[Pt.1] [Pt.2] [Pt.3] [Pt.4] [Pt.6] [Pt.7] [Pt.8] [Pt.9] [Pt.10]

“So you’re that dead kid everyone’s talking about.”

Danny smacked a trash bag into the purple clad vigilante. “You can pick up the glass.”

“Wait, I’m just here to-”

“Bother me when I’m working? At least the litterer brings me cash. You can help clean or you can leave. Plastics go over there.”

Danny pointed at a pile of plastics, ignoring Spoiler’s bemused look. Hard to tell, really, considering her mask.

“I’ll help clean if you answer some questions!” Spoiler chirped, already moving to pick out the glass in the general trash pile Danny’s managed to gather. He nodded.

“Alright. At least you’re helping. The other one just bothers me and leaves his stuff on the beach.”

Spoiler snorted. “I’m Spoiler. Is the litterer Batman?”

“Sure. I don’t really care what his name is,” which was a complete lie, Danny was a fan. It’s just that messing with Batman (especially after he couldn’t clean up after himself, honestly!) overrode his fan behavior. “But if I catch him leaving shit in the waters again…”

Danny frowned, eyes glowing. He could feel- even with his partial tangibility, the muck of Gotham's waters seeping into his boots. It was not giving 'Live, Laugh, Love' to Danny, and he needed it gone.

“Whatever. They dropped a lot of guns down here. You can deal with those too, yeah?”

“I'm pretty sure that's evidence?!”

“If you could call it that.” Danny plucked away the Styrofoam and the hazardous (more than regular, anyways) materials away from the trash pile so Spoiler could dig through with her gloves without contracting sixteen different sorts of illnesses.

“So, what brings you to Gotham?”

Danny pointed at the water. “Came for school. Stayed because you losers polluted the water with dead bodies and gross chemicals.”

“You go to school?”

“Hey, that’s discriminatory.”

“Oops! No, sorry! I meant-”

Danny waved her off, irritably separating a bottle cap from the crushed bottle. Seriously, what’s the point of putting the cap back on if you were going to throw it in the bay anyways?

“It’s fine. How else am I supposed to learn about the advancements made in the scientific industry otherwise?”

Even if Danny wasn’t too sure that science could sure stupidity, but a halfa could dream, right?

"So... do you just... listen in on lectures?"

Danny stared at her. "What else would I do in a class??"

"Oh. I just thought since you're dead and all, you'd do something more... fun?"

"I mean, I could terrorize the local villains for kicks, if that's what you meant."

Spoiler brightened. "Actually, yeah! That would be helpful! If Mr. Freeze keeps bringing the cold during my latte Thursdays, I'm gonna snap and wring his cold little chicken neck."

Danny snorted. "Alright. I will keep an eye out for this Mr. Freeze." Danny paused. "Hey, tell your friend to come down and help us."

"What- oh. Black Bat!" Stephanie waved her partner down. Black Bat gracefully slipped down towards the bay, casually knocking out two goons gunning for Spoiler.

'Careful,' Black Bat signed.

"Thanks!" Spoiler bounced on the heels of her feet. She swept an arm out. "Wanna help?"

Black Bat tilted her head and, after placing Danny under quick but thorough scrutiny, nodded.

'You can get the salvageable stuff. Anything you can't lift, leave to me.' Danny signed clumsily, placing emphasis on can't.

"You know sign language?"

"I'm not too good at it, I just learned this version."

He knew ghost-sign first, after all.

"Chop, chop. I don't have all night."

----

Danny learned that Black Bat had the skill to knock cans into their designated piles if he threw them in the air so she could kick at them.

"You two can come back anytime."

Spoiler whooped while Black Bat leaned back, smug.

"Wait, tell the litterer he owes me $200. He was short last time."

"...Are you telling me Batman owes you money?"

"Yeah. He might be in financial straights, so I gave him some lee-way."

Black Bat and Spoiler looked at each other.

----

"Hey, so guess what I learned about sea boy!"

Bruce's head swiveled to her with startling intensity. The rest of the clan tuned in.

"He knows sign language! Maybe he even knows ancient sign language! And goes to school, but since he's like, dead, he could only listen to the lectures."

"Bruce, Bruce, do not start a ghost-education plan. Stop. We don't even know if he even-" Dick tackled Bruce, who was already writing a petition as Bruce Wayne to give partial credit to students that diligently goes to class.

"Oh, yeah!" Stephanie shouted over the unraveling chaos. "He promised to fuck with our Rogues for a bit so we can get a break! And we also got a bunch of guns!"

"Where? Gimme!" Jason demanded.

"Do not give Todd more firearms!" Damian cut in.

"Also!" Stephanie grinned as Cass shook with laughter. "Batman's a debtor! He owes Phantom $200!"

"Ain't no fucking way." Tim cackled. "Hear that Bruce? That's karma! For not defending me when he called me broke!"

[supercutszns]

rotten to the touch; luke castellan

series masterlist

wc: 3.2k

pairing: pre-tlt luke castellan x f! reader

synopsis: you’re pretty sure you’re an awful person. you’re pretty sure luke castellan is too. and you’re pretty sure you want to make out with him.

warnings: reader is flawed & not the greatest, luke is ... a little dark🫣, small mention of blood, swearing, lots of making out but no explicit nsfw, a bit toxic, & no more more ‘i can fix him’ or ‘i can make him worse’ it’s ‘he can make ME worse’

notes: this is… sluttier than my usual stuff so it’s not as good but i’m trying, feedback is appreciated! also i wonder what cabin we think this reader would be in, let me know where you’d place her im curious :) maybe i’ll write more of her in the future she’s interesting!! and thank you for 100 followers i am so grateful<3 designated song for this fic is crush by ethel cain

You are a miserable, wicked, asshole of a person, and everybody knows it. Including you.

It’s unclear to you why you turned out this way—every reason to blame never satiates the fury searing your insides. All the campers hate you. The counsellors, too. Even Chiron looks down on the viciousness inside you. You are Camp Half-Blood’s black sheep; a mean, bitter person with no love for the people around you. And it’s not just for show. You know you’re rotten. You know the anger will never go away.

It’s evident in the things you think about other people—the way you pick them apart in your head, toss them aside, because they just don’t see it. This miserable, unforgiving world, with children sleeping on wooden floors because the people who created you think you disposable. Because they can just make more of you. More, more, more, until one of you comes out rotten, born of all the ugliness they have inside them. You are the worst parts of Godly blood. The wrathful parts.

Everyone hates you. Everyone hates a person with an unquenchable anger.

But everyone loves Luke Castellan.

He’s a saint at Camp Half-Blood if there ever was one. Handsome, generous, kind. Goes out of his way to help out the new kids and gives them homes in his cabin. He’s the best swordsman in camp by a mile. Shit, you’d even love Luke Castellan if you didn’t know any better.

But you do, and you don’t, and it’s complicated, okay?

Because there’s something you know about Luke Castellan that nobody else does: he’s miserable and wicked, too.

You see it in his eyes sometimes. The way they look at you at dinner, when you’re picking at your food away from anyone else at your table. Something familiar rises in them, and your stomach twists. His body tenses whenever someone mentions his father, but the smiles he flashes are so charismatic nobody notices. But you do. It’s exciting.

During sword practice, he quips back and forth with the kids and laughs whenever they take a jab at him. He’s light, easy, carefree. But you see how he holds back, the tension in his shoulder, the way the arc of his sword never fully finishes. So you wait until everybody leaves and he’s alone, with the training dummies and the setting sun. And you. Hiding.

He slashes through them and spears through their heads. You see it, the gnashing of his teeth, the sweat curling down his cheeks. There’s something there. A chasm he’s hopeless to fill.

Before you know it, you’re going out of your way to catch him training alone. It’s creepy, you know, and awful, you know, but the more you watch him the more you see a sort of violence scabbed under his skin.

Whenever you see him now, the feeling you get is entirely foreign to you. It’s almost . . . longing.

Wherever she is, you’re pretty sure Aphrodite’s having a cosmic fucking laugh. And you’re sure she’s laughing double tonight.

The Aphrodite cabin is hosting some secret party for the older counsellors. You’re definitely of age to be a counsellor, but you’ve never been made one because that would probably make half the campers drop out. Chiron and Mr. D don’t know what to do with you. You’re sure you’ll be kicked out of camp soon for good.

But you’re here anyways, for a reason you don’t want to admit, and you stay tucked in a corner as the world around you mingles. Luke is on the other side of the room, lovely as always, laughing with a few other counsellors. He brings a drink up to his lips, and you have a startling thought of what it would be like to kiss him. And you’re fucked. You’re so fucked. Because for the first time in your life you want something tangible, something real. You want to hear him and feel him and pry him apart, and a part of you wants him to actually see you, see all the awful things that might make you the same. You feel like a teenage girl with a crush, and it is infuriating.

An Aphrodite girl comes up to you with a foolish smile. “Hey, sorry, you want a drink?”

“Fuck off, you idiot,” you snarl.

You wait for her to leave. She doesn’t. “You know, you don’t have to be so mean all the time,” she says evenly. “If you’re here, you might as well enjoy it. So yes, I want to give you a drink.”

“Have you ever thought that I’m not being mean? Maybe I just am.”

You glare at her. She looks you up and down. “Sure,” she shrugs, walking away. There’s a vivid picture in your mind of her falling through a hole in the cabin floor. It doesn’t soothe you, but at least the fantasy is there.

The night drones on. You’re sick of the smells and the laughs and the heat. And you’re sick of yourself. You can’t believe, underneath all your sourness, you came here to stare at a boy you barely know, and you don’t even know why. He’s fascinating, and you resent him, and he’s also beautiful. But he’s looked back at you all of three times tonight and you’re sick of the way your skin crawls when he does.

Leaving the cabin brings the relief of the cool night air, and the singularity of your body. You are the only one who feels this rage. You are the only one who hates.

To stave off your discomfort you walk around to the back of the cabin, to the crest of the hill facing the water. The stars above twinkle at you in spite. There’s a bitterness in your throat you want to wash down with something worse (maybe you should have taken that drink), but you know it won’t matter. Nothing matters. Those stars and whatever they hide are apparently the only important things in the universe, so why should anyone care about anything?

They stars only get brighter. It’s probably their goal to piss you off. You grunt, “Oh, fuck you,” to them. It’s not enough, never nearly enough to expel the rotten part of you. “Fuck you. Fuck off!” You groan at the sky. Nothing happens. Until:

“I’m guessing you’re not having a fun night.”

You whirl around. It’s hard to see in the dark, but whatever light is left catches a long scar on a cheek. Your stomach knots.

“Yeah, me neither,” Luke Castellan says, hands in his pockets as he meanders towards you.

Even when he’s close enough, you don’t say anything. If you do, you’re afraid it’ll be something ugly. Like I kind of want to make out with you. Are you awful too? I need a lobotomy.

The thoughts almost make you laugh. Been a long time since you’ve been funny.

He nods at the sky. “Those things don’t talk. You do know that, right?” He’s still so captivating, so self-assured, even when there’s no one around but you.

“Gods, you’re the worst,” you scoff. You really mean it, so you can’t look him in the eye.

“Then why have you been staring at me all night?”

It catches you so off-guard that you whip back to face him. He has an eyebrow raised and the itch of a smile that makes you burn with shame. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

He shrugs, leaning against the cabin wall. “I’m not stupid. You’ve been brooding in the corner watching me the second you came in.” He cocks his head to the side, adding, “Actually, you stare at me all the time. At meals and stuff. I really hope you don’t think you’re being subtle.”

You huff. “Okay, if we’re really being honest here, you started that! You do it too! All the time!”

His hands shot up like he was being arrested. “Hey, I never said I minded it. A guy’s . . . just gotta wonder. What’s up with you spying on me when I’m training alone, anyways?”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You watch me when there’s nobody else around. I’m not blind. It’s weird. If you want tips you can just ask me. Or if you like what you’re looking at, at least be upfront about it.”

You speak before you can take in that last sentence, or the way his smile took pride in itself when he said it, or how embarrassed you should probably feel. “You didn’t answer my question about why you started staring at me first.”

The anger (shame) blinding you made you forget how close you are to him right now. Close enough to touch, but not enough to see. But almost there. Almost.

“People think you’re mean,” Luke says after a moment, his dark eyes probing you. The words curl out of his mouth slowly, like he’s choosing them all with care. “You’re rude. You never listen to anyone. You judge everything. They all think you’re awful.” Again, he looks you over. “I’m not so sure.”

“If I’m awful, then you’re awful,” you spit before he can say anything else.

He just shrugs. “Well, I guess that’s why I’m not sure.”

It’s irritating, his calmness. He has the same anger you do. How come he can just . . . shove it down? You try to unearth any fury in his eyes, but it’s too far back. Simmering. “Jesus,” you mutter, “You’re worse than me.”

He looks genuinely taken aback by this. His scar deepens when his brows wrinkle. “What?”

“You’re a pretender—that’s what you are.” It’s your turn now, to step closer, to make his skin crawl. “Look at you. Everyone loves you. You’re this perfect golden boy and you’re sweet and attentive and whatever the fuck but you know it’s one giant lie. At least I’m honest, but you just sit pretty and act like you don’t have that . . . thing that I have. Resentment. Insanity. Whatever you want to call it. We’re the same, but I’m the only one getting shit for it.”

Now, you are close enough to really see him. The patterns on the wood behind him frame the vision of his ever-shifting face. You realize that this, like most things are to Luke Castellan, is a challenge. You also can’t remember the last time you saw him lose one.

But when you play, you play to win.

“You don’t know that,” he dares.

“Oh, I do. You’re rotten, Castellan,” you sneer, index finger jabbed into his chest. You can feel his heartbeat if you concentrate. “And you’re not owning up to it, so you’re also a coward.”

However scathing you look, it isn’t enough. If anything it only makes Luke’s manner more playful. Nothing feels playful anymore. Everything, inside and outside of your mind, feels like constant, exhausting war. Maybe that’s why you don’t slap his hand off you when it wraps around your wrist, keeping it pressed to the middle of his chest. His heartbeat thrums through you.

He tilts his face towards you, grinning, “Then why do you want to kiss me?”

All right. What the fuck. It feels like you’ve been electrocuted.

“What the—what are you talking about?” You blunder, but he knows, of course he knows, because there’s something between the two of you that has been formed and understood by eye contact alone. He can probably read your mind. As much as you don’t want to admit it, you’d like to read his just as much.

He cocks his head. “I mean, you did call me pretty,” he teases, and it’s almost endearing. “You’re pretty like this too.” His other hand comes up to your face, and you’re surprised you don’t flinch when his thumb gently smooths the crease in your eyebrows. “Don’t call me a coward, heathen. Then we’ll both be embarrassed.”

The nickname makes you want to fight, but the touch makes you dizzy. “You don’t want to kiss me, Luke,” you say with all the control you have, which, right now, is increasingly sparse.

“You’ve gotta stop telling people what they want,” he muses. The hand on your wrist traces further down your forearm. The one on your face snakes around your hips. “One of your more disagreeable qualities.”

His words fan over you. That fire simmering in his eyes has finally come to the surface.

“One of?” You challenge.

“You let me make out with you and I’ll give you a whole list.”

You snort, hoping it hides the shortness in your breath. “What a charmer you are.”

His lips brush yours. “Well, that’s what makes me so rotten, isn’t it?”

There’s hardly time to unravel if that’s a question or a statement because you grab a fistful of his shirt and he kisses you. Your heart detonates. It is not rotten in the slightest.

His body is warm and firm. You smell the cabin wood and the drink on his breath. It all matters, and none of it does. You’re warm everywhere as he wraps both arms around your back, and the way he kisses is, unfortunately, exactly how you thought he would. Your hands are tentative in his hair. So is your mouth on his. But Luke is so deliberate in the way he kisses that you know he’s thought about this, too. It makes you all the warmer.

His hand takes your jaw and tilts it up. You know your neck is shaky with breath, and you’re pretty sure he’s admiring it. You don’t complain when he presses a kiss to your jaw, then another one, like he’s testing the waters. “You’re so nice like this,” he mutters almost to himself, thumb running across your neck. “If only people could see you.”

“Then they’d see how mean you are too, no?” You huff. “You don’t want that.”

Another kiss to your jaw. “Not yet, sweetheart.”

Whatever feeling is harbouring in your body right now, it’s so fulfilling it almost makes you uncomfortable. You want to reject it. You’re not supposed to want things. Worse, you’re not supposed to get things. Luke starts marking a path down your neck and you are so determined to enjoy this that you’d kiss a fucking baby if someone asked you to. You might as well be a saint.

He bites the pulse point on your neck, sure to leave a mark, and a shudder rips through you. You’re pretty sure the bastard starts laughing. You hit his shoulder in retaliation.

“Easy, heathen,” he reprimands in your ear, and you know he’s still smiling.

“Don’t—don’t call me that.” You hate that you start to smile, too, and that your stomach burgeons with butterflies when he pulls back to look at you.

He touches the corner of your upturned mouth, kiss-bitten and red. His expression is boyish. “Hard to when it makes your face do that,” he goads. “I thought it was impossible for you to smile.”

“Be quiet.” You thread a hand through his camp necklace and bring him closer. You can almost taste his mouth on yours, but he sweeps past you at the last minute.

He gently tugs your earlobe with his teeth and whispers, “Yes ma’am.”

Fuck him. Seriously. You might have to.

It’s a tangle of teeth and hands and smiles kept hidden, as you slip your fingertips beneath his shirt and he does the same, and you’re both angry and greedy and incredibly destructive, but it doesn’t matter yet. Now you’re just teenagers fooling around at the back of a party, and it’s the first good thing either of you have had in a long time. Luke leaves you gasping whenever his mouth hits certain places, maybe too many places, and he teases you accordingly. “So sensitive,” he taunts, pressing his knee between your legs so he can see you squirm. You rake your nails through his scalp and he tilts his head back to groan. It shuts him up for a while.

He bites your neck until you say his name. You trace lines on his stomach till he takes your hand in his own. You’ve been hungry for something your whole life, and you finally have something to sink your teeth into. For better or for worse.

After Hades knows how long, laughter floats out from the front of the cabin. Sounds of feet tripping over each other and muffled goodbyes. You pull away from Luke, chests heaving together. His hair is wild, his shirt crumpled, and he looks entirely satisfied with it. Smug little shit. “Party’s letting out,” you mutter.

“What a damn shame.” His hand rubs your jaw, and it’s too tender a gesture so you angle your head away to peek over the side of the cabin. You barely pay attention to the kids straggling back to their bunks.

“Is now the time you tell me all my horrible qualities?” You ask once you’re ready to look at him again.

He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Actually, I came up with more since I said that so I’m pretty sure it’ll take more than one night.” He fakes a wince, “Might have to spread it out for a few days.”

You roll your eyes, “Oh, you ass.”

“I’ll give you one for starters.” You feel like a tornado when he kisses the juncture between your jaw and your neck. “Your hands are too cold.” They’re tucked underneath his shirt right now, pressed against his back. You don’t move them. “And,” he adds, “you’re incredibly crass.”

“Thanks, dipshit.”

“Thank you for proving my point, heathen.”

The commotion at the front gets louder, and you know your time to go undiscovered runs short. “You meet me again tomorrow, and I start telling you the rest?” He raises his brows.

The prospect both repulses and excites you, although perhaps they’re hand-in-hand. You tentatively reach up to trace the scar on his face. A faint, jagged line that holds scripture within it. His eyes flutter shut for a moment. “Even though I’m rotten?” You ask, and there’s an echo of mischief in your voice, too.

He’s got a strange expression when he looks at you. “That’s not true.”

He leans down, angles his head to kiss you. It’s slow, but bitter, and he bites down on your lip until you’re pretty sure there’s blood. “Luke,” you murmur, and he kisses you softer. You lean into him like a hapless, lovesick fool.

After you part, he loosens his grip on you. The bumbling campers have gotten louder. He stares at you, and you see the chasm in his eyes again, brimming with fire. Same as yours. You know you’ll see him tomorrow.

He says, “You’re not rotten. You’re right.”

And damn it, you really do believe him.

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

can you PLEASEEEE do something with the idea of reader stealing/wearing katsukis clothes?? you’re the only one who i think will fully do this idea justice xx

pure fluff, reader is a thief, reader likes the way katsuki smells, roughhousing lol kinda ?? katsuki sorta tackles you, katsuki is a meanie, tickling, no pronouns mentioned in this one I don’t think ! lemme know if i missed sum else !!

a/n : hey so this has been sittin in my drafts for literal decades omg IM SO SORRY🙁🙁🙁🙁ALSO BTW TYSM FOR THINKIN I COULD DO UR ASK JUSTICE I WAS SO FLATTERED WHEN I READ THIS I WAS GIGGLING N SHIT🤭🤭i was always so excited for this ask but I literally never got around to doing it after my break n stuff, im slowly (and that’s suuuuper slowly im so sorry yall i suck) getting to all of your asks one at a time and im so grateful yall r still givin me the time of day honestly , so please be patient with me🤧💗💗💍 ! But anway enough dumping ! Anon if you’re still sticking around, i truly hope u enjoy this ! And ofc all of yall too ! much luv xxx!!

"you fuckin' thief.."

shit. you thought he'd be gone for longer.

lately, you’d been routinely sneaking into katsuki’s dorm room and nabbing some of his clothes. sweaters, hoodies, t-shirts : as long as they were in your reach, you’d grab them.

it's not your fault, really ! katsuki's clothes are so cosy and warm and they smell just like him. plus, they're perfect to snuggle in when he's busy, how could you not borrow them for a little while ?!

..except you can admit that you’ve been stalling..and a lot of his clothes were still in your room, but you still planned on giving them back..soon !

and you can’t even pretend, because you’re wearing on of his hoodies that had been missing for a good week now.

"katsuki, baby." you slowly lean away from his clothes drawer, your hand ready to snag a black hoodie of his slowly trailing towards the floor "i can explain."

"all my damn sweaters, my fuckin' hoodies. they all just vanished without a trace.." he starts, slowly stalking over to you. you squeak, slowing getting on your knees to prepare yourself should you have to break his ankles and sprint out of the room. he's fuming, eyebrows twitching "thought i was goin' crazy.."

"and all this time.."

"suki.." you try, voice wobbly as your knees shake with each step closer he gets.

"it's been fucking YOU ?!"

and he pounces.

with a squeal, you scramble and dash away just as he leaps for you and narrowly misses, he's got you cornered as you're on opossite sides of his bed while you beg for mercy and he keeps yelling at you to 'come here'. in a panick you grab one of his pillows and fling it at him.

it feels like the pillow slides down his face in slow motion to reveal a look so vile a demon appearing in front of you right now would scare you less

“you’re. so. dead.”

there’s really nowhere else for you to go. you’re truly cornered, you might as well just be buried right now. you think about the leftovers waiting for you in the fridge and how sero still hadn’t returned the manga he’d leant from you, but you’ve lived a pretty good life.

before your body can decide to move, katsuki leaps over to you tackling you and having you land straight onto his bed with a loud shriek.

frantically, you wave your hands around “wait, wait pleasepleasepleasepleasepleas-” but your begs of mercy are cut off when katsuki jams a finger into your side, causing you to yelp. he hovers over you with a mean smirk. and you know what’s coming.

“katsu—”

you don’t even get to finish before he jams his hands into your sides and mercilessly tickles you.

from an outsiders point of view? this is harmless. but your boyfriend is mean and the biggest asshole in the world because he knows all of your weak spots and the places he knows will have you shaking and gasping for breath. it felt like actually torture, really.

“thought you could get away with it, huh ?” he sneers, leaning down a bit more so he’s eye level with you “thought you could keep taking my shit and i’d just neeever find out, hm ? yeah ?”

“b-but i—ah ! didn’t—!” you gasp and squeal, choking on the sentences you can’t manage to push out of your throat as your eyes squeeze closed. you don’t have to see his face to know he’s enjoying this.

“you’re a fuckin’ thief.” he spits, backing up from you so you don’t headbutt him square in the nose from your thrashing. you’re response is nothing but a harsh gasp and he smirks wider.

you think he’s finally, finally taken pity on you when his fingers slow to a stop, but he glares down at you, hands still on either sides of you “say it.”

you can’t even catch your breath before he hurriedly pressed closer to your sides to scare you, you shriek “stop ! m’sorry !”

“not what i wanted you to say, try again.”

“you’re—” you take a breath “sucha”

his fingers graze your shirt and his eyes are wide, daring you to finish your sentence, you bring your hands up to try to hide his field of vision.

“OKAY ! okay, okay…” you slowly lower your hands away, finally dropping them at your sides with a sigh “m’ a thief…” you mumble in defeat, embarrassment creeping up on you not only from the fact that you got caught but that the blond above you clearly enjoyed your torture if the evil snickers you heard we’re any sign of that.

he hums in satisfaction “mhm, no good fuckin’ thief. should lock you up and throw away the key on your ass.” you hate how handsome he looks when he’s playful like this with you. your sides still hurt and your voice is croaky from how out of breath you were and for a moment you seriously thought you saw the pearly gates.

you pout, and all it does is make him smile wider.

your boyfriend is mean. and the biggest asshole in the entire fucking world.

“s’not my fault..your clothes are comfy.” you mumble, crossing your arms over your chest. “and they smell good.”

he scoffs, leaning down closer towards you “that’s cus i fuckin’ wash them. and i haven’t been able to lately cus someone’s been stealing my entire closet.”

“i didn’t !”

“was boutta make me walk around naked, ya moron. all my clothes are gone.” you roll your eyes, he never lacked in the dramatics department.

“you’re such a drama queen.” you whine, sinking into his comforter. he ignores you and he presses your cheeks together with one hand, chuckling at your smooched cheeks and furrowed brows.

“stop stealing my stuff.” he announces slowly. he’s clear, no way you could’ve misunderstood him anyway. he sighs and presses a quick peck to your lips still pressed together

“if you want one of my sweaters r’something, jus’ come ask me. can give you one..or whatever.” he finishes, voice slightly muffled in embarrassment as he shoves his mouth against yours again and again making wet kissing sounds and you manage a giggle. he rolls his eyes, but a smile slowly crawls up his face anyway as he releases your cheeks. you let out a happy sigh, opening and closing your mouth to get rid of the slight soreness.

“take this shit off though.” he tugs at the hoodie you’re wearing “stinks. need to put it in the wash.”

“no it doesn’t !” you protest, pressing the color against your nose in an attempt to keep it close to you “it smells like you!” you pout. he doesn’t respond for a bit, opting to squint at you while the tips of his ears turned pink. and in a second his snatched the bottom of it and ripped it off of you, ripping a pathetic scream from you.

he examined his hoodie with an unreadable expression before his eyes land back on you for a second, then he slowly starts folding up his sweater “you trynna say i stink ?” he says lowly.

“no. i wouldn’t wear your clothes if they were nasty” you scrunch up your nose “you can take back the sweater in my room, though. the smell is starting to wear off.”

“gee, thanks for offering to give me my sweater back. weirdo” he glares, spitting his words out sarcastically and you giggle at his extra emphasis on his ownership of the hoodie which earns you a huff.

“ i’m grabbing all the shit you took from me, and they stay with me.” he starts warningly “but you can keep this, i guess..” he adds, patting on his now folded hoodie ready for a cleaning. you smile happily, running your socked feet into his blankets.

“ oh, but don’t forget to wear it first after you washed it, want it to smell like you. otherwise there’s no point.”

“you really are a fucking weirdo.” he spits, but the way his cheeks burn bright red say he’s not truly mad about it. you laugh, and katsuki grumbles. “hope you learned your lesson, freak.” he taunts. you hum in fake thought, then release a sigh.

“yeah, i guess i did.” you concede, and he nods proudly.

and sure, yeah, you’re boyfriend’s a big meanie. but you do a great job at riling him up.

“for now.”

[luveline]

Spencer’s oldest child (either with reader or previous relationship) wanting to help out with readers baby!

“So…” 

“So,” Spencer echoes, hooking Amy under the arms before she can wriggle away. He props her on the counter, cloth already in hand. 

“About the baby.” 

“What about the baby?” he asks, encouraging her head back gently to wipe her mouth. She’s covered in butter and omelette, a chive stuck to her chin. 

“You know how she’s little?” 

“Yes.” Spencer wipes her face clean very gently. It’s not a good plan, Amy wriggles and squirms away from the warm water and it takes a long time, but Spencer can’t bring himself to be rough. “She’s really little. I know all about it.” 

“And mom is tired.” 

Spencer grins. “Yes, mom is tired.” 

“Can I look after the baby? ‘Cos I’m big?” 

Spencer isn’t in the habit of lying to her, perhaps to the detriment of his own easy life. “Probably not. You are getting bigger, but she’s so little she’s actually quite fragile. We have to be careful to hold her the right way, and to carry her gently, because she’s not done forming. You don’t have the dexterity to do this all the time. Plus, she’s heavy.” Spencer puts the cloth aside. He leans down enough to be face to face with Amy, puckered up for a kiss. 

Amy frowns. Spencer kisses her damp cheek. 

“I do too have dex-trity.” 

“What do you want to do?” 

“I want to look after the baby.” 

“Then who will look after me?” Spencer asks cheekily. 

“Mom.” 

“Okay. Listen,” he takes her face carefully into his hand, wiping at the place where he’d kissed affectionately, “there are ways you can help with the baby. Lots of ways! Stuff we already do, like making dinner, and stuff we’ve been doing to help mom, like washing her clothes and watering her plants.” 

“I love mom so I water the plants, that’s not the baby.” 

“I know,” he says, rubbing her cheek. “That’s why I do it too. But I promise it helps mommy more than you realise when we do this stuff for her.” 

“Let’s do something else.” 

“Like what?” 

“I don’t know.” 

Spencer opens his arms for her and she latches on like his baby sloth. He used to say it to her all the time, how she was his lazy sloth pup, always on his chest. “How about we ask?” 

He carries her out of the kitchen and upstairs to find you, only you’re not where they left you in the master bedroom. Instead, you're sitting on the floor of Amy’s bedroom with the baby swaddled to your chest. “Oh, hey, it’s big Reid and little Reid.”  

“What Reid does that make you?” Spencer asks. 

“I’m ambiguously sized Reid.” You look down at the baby. “And this is tiny Reid.” 

“What are you doing?” Amy asks. 

“I’m cleaning up your humongous mess, angel.”

“What!” Amy shouts. Spencer laughs at her outburst. “Mom, I’m supposed to help you!” 

“Says who?” 

“Says me! Daddy, put me down.” 

Spencer obliges her and sets her down. Amy runs to you and takes the doll from your hand, to your surprise, sweeping the pile of her dolls away, mixing the ones you’d redressed with naked and ragged ones. You cover the baby’s back, sighing. Spencer knows from experience those dolls are finicky. 

“I was just trying to help,” you say, pouting at her. “It was a big mess, you can’t do it all by yourself, you’re just my little girl.” 

Spencer appreciates the way you say it. It’s good to love someone, but it feels like great luck to have fallen in love with a mom who couldn’t adore her children more than you do. He wanted kids so badly, and your love for them cements a great decision. Amy doesn’t feel so lucky, throwing herself against the side of her bed with a dramatic, forlorn whine. 

You tip your head back as Spencer kneels by your side. “What’s wrong?” you ask. 

He pulls the swaddle from the baby’s face to see her. She’s awake but quiet. Recognition lights her features when she notices his poking, giving him a gurgling smile. “Nothing’s wrong,” he says to you. “Amy just wants to help today, ‘cos she’s our lovely girl.” His voice turns to sweetness as the baby’s smile widens. “Hello, angel. Hi, hi, hi.” 

“You wanna help me?” you ask. 

Amy pulls her face up from her messy bed sheets. “Yes, please.” 

“Well, nobody’s given me a hug in a while.” 

“I want to help with the baby!” 

“Nobody’s given her a cuddle today, either.” 

“She’s cuddling you right now!” 

“She’s just resting. What she needs is a good hug and a good kiss.” You stretch your legs out in front of you and reach back to pull at the swaddle. Spencer helps before you can stretch your shoulder in the wrong way, taking the fabric down your arms and releasing you from its confines. You cup the baby’s weight in one hand, her head the other, and slide her into your arm. “Come on, best big sister. Come and hold her for me.” 

Amy rushes to do as you’ve said. Spencer smiles to himself and pulls the mound of dolls toward him —there’s a lot of work to do in here, you weren’t kidding about the mess. 

You put the baby in Amy’s lap. 

“Now,” you say, leaning into Spencer’s, arms opening expectantly, “for me?” 

Spencer can’t wait to abandon the doll and bend down over you. He almost pokes your kidney out with a Barbie, but he’s never been any good at resisting you when you ask for a cuddle. It’s not your most comfortable embrace, and yet it’s as perfect as any other, his laugh lost in your shoulder, wrapping his arms behind your back. 

“Keep an eye on the babies,” you whisper. 

Spencer checks that Amy’s holding the baby the right way and makes you into a Reid sandwich. “She told me she is too dexterous.” 

“Did you imply she wasn’t?” 

“I said,” he relents, smiling to himself as you squeeze his waist, “that she’s not dexterous enough to carry the baby all day long.” 

“But how do you know?” 

“I read a couple parenting books a few years ago, I tend to have a pretty good memory.” 

“Do you remember how to rub my back?” you tease, softly, still a little shy after all these years. 

Spencer rubs your back. Amy babbles loving nonsense at the baby for a few minutes, and then complains of being bored and wanting another omelette. 

[pyrrhiccomedy]

A DM’s Fair Play Guide To Plot Twists

I love running a game with a lot of surprises. The challenge to pulling this off well is that, unless you’re playing a one on one game, your players outnumber you: and between them, they have a good chance of figuring out what’s going to happen, no matter how sneaky and clever you are.

The first way of dealing with this - which I’ll just call the bullshit way - is to not give your players the information they need to solve the mystery. Don’t let them find out about the secret society until it’s too late. Don’t give them any reason to suspect that their NPC ally is planning to kill them. Don’t let them find the murder weapon, don’t let them locate the witnesses, don’t give them the chance to skip to the end of their investigation.

This sucks, and if you run your games like this, you’re going to piss off your players. Because it isn’t fair.

In mystery literature, a “fair play mystery” is one where the reader is given all of the information they need in order to figure out the solution before the Big Reveal. It’s what makes the reveal good: that GASP, the “oh shit, the knife! the knife from the party! that was hers! I forgot!”

Pulling off a twist in a fair play game is an incredible feeling. Your players will think you’re a genius (or an absolute dick bastard, which is just as good) and they’ll respect it more when they land in hot water that they plausibly could have avoided. So how do you run a fair play game without your players figuring out the twists ahead of time, given that you’re definitely not smarter than all of your players put together?

By fucking with their expectations.

Here are some things that I keep in mind, to keep my players guessing. And it’s important, with all of this, that if your players see through something, let them have it. They should figure out a lot of things on their own! But if you’re regularly seeding your stories with all of this stuff, eventually your players will miss something. Those are somethings you can build on. The same way that a low level enemy who gets away once can keep coming back again and again until they become an important antagonist, a misapprehension your party proves to have a blindspot for can grow and develop until they get smacked with a breathtaking twist. 

What’s a twist if not the sudden overturning of an assumption you never thought to question?

1: Make your powerful friendly NPCs know a lot...but not as much as the players think they do.

Player characters often end up with powerful allies. It would be very convenient for the party if those allies always had accurate information. Make sure they don’t always enjoy that convenience.

It’s a balancing act: you want your powerful NPCs to be powerful. You want this alliance to be meaningful and beneficial to your players. But give your NPC an Achilles heel of some kind, when it comes to the information at their disposal. The Noble General commands powerful forces and knows the lay of the enemy’s land well...but that doesn’t mean he knows what every squadron and scouting party is up to. The Political Mastermind may know the ins and outs of the court, and have keen insight into the motivations of others: but he has an enemy who pisses him off so much that he loses all objectivity around her. The Powerful Wizard can call upon great magic to aid the party: but his divinations aren’t as accurate as he thinks they are, and he’s prone to finding, in his signs and omens, what he wants to see, more than what’s actually there.

Most of the time, their information should be good! That will make it more likely that your players will trust them the one time when it isn’t.

2. Let (apparently) less powerful NPCs sometimes know more than the players think they do. 

Most NPCs aren’t the Noble General or the Powerful Wizard. Most NPCs are Daves, designed to get the players from place to place. Most of those Daves know about as much as you’d expect them to. But some Daves have plans of their own.

You don’t always have to signpost with big blinking lights which of your NPCs are ‘important,’ and which ones are ‘unimportant.’ Sneak in a crafty Dave from time to time. That assistant they talk to, every time they go to see the prince? That bitch knows everything, and she’s almost ready to make her move. 

3: There is no such thing as a completely reliable witness. 

If the players only get information from one person, that information should be flawed in at least one, potentially small, but important way. Smart players will seek a second opinion, or at least allow for the possibility that their information may be incomplete. But even smart players get out over their skis sometimes.

4: Let your NPCs be aware of the power of a first impression. 

If an NPC gives a strong first impression of being a particular kind of person, it’s because they’re comfortable giving that impression. That might be because it’s who they are. But maybe not.

One of the first characters the PCs met in a VtM campaign I ran was Gawaine. Gawaine was a good old pine-scented man’s man, with salt and pepper stubble and a blue Ford truck. He listened to AC/DC, and talked about the war. He was affable and honest and willing to lend a hand. You already know Gawaine. Everybody knows a Gawaine. Gawaines are trustworthy, salt of the earth types. You don’t necessarily think to question a Gawaine.

That’s exactly why Gawaine was such a useful persona for Krystiyan, the Tzimisce Voivode, a cruel and alien sculptor of flesh who “never left his haven.” There were plenty of clues that they were the same person, but that campaign was in its endgame before the players put them all together.

5: Sometimes, dangerous and villainous NPCs should be helpful and cooperative. 

Not even necessarily because they’re manipulating the players, or even deceiving them about their true natures, but because their interests and the players’ interests genuinely align...for the moment. 

One of the easiest levers in your players’ brains to exploit is the expectation that people who help you are your friends. Even if your players know, consciously, that they shouldn’t trust this person, most of the time they kind of can’t help it, if the NPC is genuinely helpful to them and at least a little charismatic. 

6: Sometimes, good and valuable NPCs should be unhelpful and uncooperative. 

No matter how mature your players are, there’s a natural tendency to react to uncooperative NPCs with a reflexive, “Hey, fuck you! We’re the protagonists! This guy is an asshole!” so from time to time have a helpful, honest, good-aligned NPC have a wholly justified but as-yet-unknown-to-the-party reason to flatly refuse to deal with them.

7: Every NPC should have a secret. 

Not necessarily a bad secret. Were it to be revealed, it might even make the party like them more! But for their own reasons, the NPC does not want their secret to come out, and they will lie to the party to protect it. Players go crazy when they realize they’re being lied to, and often jump to some wild assumptions about your NPC’s motivations. I’ve had an NPC lie about the opening hours of a shop, and had the PCs assume that they were black market dealers for the villain when the dude just wanted to be able to close early so he could go smoke weed in the park.

8. As a DM, it’s polite to remind your players of the common knowledge their characters would possess...even when it doesn’t reflect the truth.

We all know it’s tedious when the DM calls for a roll when you’re just asking for common knowledge. I shouldn’t have to make a roll to know the dumb space word for plastic in a Star Wars game. I shouldn’t have to make a roll to know who the Holy Roman Emperor is in a game about medieval vampires. The DM should supply common knowledge for free, whenever it comes up.

That doesn’t mean common knowledge is true.

This is different from just lying to your players, because you don’t put the weight of DM word-of-God behind it. It’s not “You would know this guy is a Ventrue, based on XYZ.” It’s “it would be a common assumption that this guy is a Ventrue, based on XYZ.” He might not be a Ventrue. It might in fact be extremely important that he is not a Ventrue. But if it is commonly assumed that he’s a Ventrue, that is - word for word - something you can share with your players. If they don’t look any deeper than common knowledge, that’s on them.

9. Obviously untrustworthy NPCs provide great air coverage for less obviously untrustworthy NPCs.

The obviously untrustworthy NPC might or might not be planning to betray the party. But if you introduce two untrustworthy NPCs in the same storyline, and one of them seems normal and cool and has a genuine plot-related reason to be there, and the other one is Jaffar, Jaffar’s gonna get clocked, but Susan over there will probably slip under the radar, and might even get tapped to help out with the whole Jaffar situation. They might get Susan’s number, by the end of the session. Susan might become an ‘ally.’ Susan might even get romanced by a party member. Play your cards right, and Jaffar might just end up a footnote in the introduction of Susan, Scourge of Worlds and most hated NPC in the entire campaign.

10. Your villains should always have a secret plan B.

Your villain isn’t stupid, right? And your villain probably isn’t so arrogant that it is inconceivable to them that their plan might fail. They’ve been planning this ritual for ten thousand years, after all. It’s always possible that some plucky band of heroes could show up at the last minute and murder your high priest, or steal your amulet, or seduce your second in command. So what does your villain have in his back pocket to make the players go, “Oh, shit - he planned for this!”

This may mean that there is a whole separate plot happening, running alongside the main story. This is great, because when weird things happen, the players have to figure out whether this is part of Plot A or Plot B, and working out who did what and why gets a lot more interesting. If they end up foiling Plot A, great - your villain was also secretly behind Plot B the whole time, and will transfer all of his resources over to that. 

Sometimes your players will figure out that Plots A and B were both the same plot the whole time, with the same villain at the head, and they’ll feel like the smartest people on the planet, and it will be their favorite moment of the entire game. That’s great! You gave them that!

Sometimes, they won’t. And when the villain of Plot A, apparently defeated, starts laughing and reveals that he was also the mastermind behind Plot B, which is now too late to be stopped, that will probably be your favorite moment of the entire game.

[softle0]

A little message for mostly YouTube builders but y’all in general, I hope I’m not being too rough but..

I know it’s been just a couple of days but guys what you mean when you say you were expecting more “Mexican” style furniture in the new ep? 😭😭 y’all don’t expect us to have art deco or modern stuff? Like seriously, what do you guys want 😂 We all Mexican simmers think this new pack is very accurate, you can even ask the simmers that worked in the official builds 🤷🏻‍♀️

Y’all really falling over the Americanized cliché of Mexico fr, this pack is inspired in Mexico City. We are a city, the population is like 24million, we’re a really big city 💀 please leave your “villas” and “haciendas” to oasis springs or sol del valey.

Please I beg you to not come and say “oh this is not giving Mexico” cause clearly you don’t know what are you talking about, be educated fr. I said it before and I’m gonna keep talking about it; But the architectural limitations in Mexico are pretty much non-existent. We probably have every single architectural style you can think about. Modern, post-modern, brutalist, art deco, mid century, colonial, Romanesque, gothic among others, probably even Tudor 😭 so you coming and expecting us to only have the villas or colorful haciendas fiesta salsa talcos it really hurts me as Mexican 😂

I’m not hating against them, I love them and as I said we have all types of places so keep doing them if you want but that’s not really common in Mexico City. So why y’all keep going with the same villas or just straight boxes builds 😭 please do more research over than using only Pinterest please, is really not that hard 🙏🏻 there’s a lot of fellow Mexican simmers, there’s google, google maps, you can even do a research of Mexico City in airbnb 😭😭 likeeee there’s a ton of ways to get information really…. You can really step up your building game if you only do a proper research. As I’ve seen a lot of you do for other worlds, why not taking the time for Mexico? Why y’all don’t respect us as much as other cultures?:(

And I know and I understand y’all probably won’t be 100% accurate if you’re not Mexicans but that doesn’t mean you can build a Los Angeles Spanish style of home and get away with it by saying “sorry if is not that accurate” 😭 cause you’re not even trying :( Mind you I been working on a uk inspired save when I never been outside my country other than some places in Canada and Florida and I’m still doing very realistic builds just by doing some research. And I’m 100% sure almost every other realistic builder is in the same situation.

Y’all are amazing and you’re so creative, I love that about the community and I know y’all can do wonderful things if doing a really small but proper research!

And next time you wanna talk about if something is giving or not Mexican at least be educated before talking about something you don’t know, it’s honestly very disrespectful. Y’all are better than that and please don’t take this as an offense, this is more like constructive criticism. I know y’all not doing this on purpose, this is just based on ignorance which is nothing bad, you can always learn something new!🥺 please do better!!

[rafeandonlyrafe]

bruised knees

words: 2.1k

warnings: mentions of blowjobs, losing virginity, virgin!reader (but fic is not smut), jealous! and overprotective!rafe, childhood friends to lovers, fluffy

rafe has been beyond overprotective of you his whole life. ever since you met in first grade and you let him borrow your brand new crayon box, only for a bully to come up and tug on your pigtails, causing rafe to pause his coloring to shove him away and tell him not to touch you ever again.

you smiled at rafe, the same smile you look at him with now, and he knew he would take care of you no matter what. you hugged him tightly and from that day on always shared your crayons, and everything else you had, with your new best friend.

“ready?” rafe slings his arm around your shoulder, pulling you towards the boat.

“yes!” you squeal, trying to navigate holding your tote bag and backpack at once, when suddenly both are out of your hands as rafe takes them and carries them down the pier.

“rafe, i can carry my own stuff.” you roll your eyes. it's a losing battle, your best friend will always lessen your load, hating seeing you do any sort of physical labor, feeling like that's his job.

“yeah, whatever.” rafe just ignores your argument, it's one he's heard so many times before, yet you make no attempt to take the bags back. “who all did you invite again?” rafe asks as you enter onto the boat, quickly beginning preparations for the day at sea, having gone through the motions so many times, knowing the boat like the back of your hand even though it's the cameron familys.

“uhh, topper, tina, kelce, steph, tiffy and hayden.” you go through the list of names in your head of friends that will be joining you and rafe on the yacht.

“how is tiffy since the break up?” rafe asks, knowing you like to talk while you work, pulling various lines while you straighten up the boat to make it more presentable, going through the motions together, always together.

rafes question launches you into a gossip session with rafe, spilling all the secrets your friends told you at your last hang out, but they know you don't keep anything from rafe, so it's no surprise when he knows as well, not that any of the girls would complain, rafe often takes over the role of protector to your friends as well, caring about who you care about.

“there's hayden!” you call to rafe, pointing down the dock to the parking lot where haydens truck just pulled in, a few minutes earlier than you expected anyone to start arriving.

“great.” rafe mumbles under his breath, making sure you don't hear his upset tone. he liked hayden at first, sharing some common interests (mostly golf), but then hayden got far too touchy with you, his gaze heating when it turned to you in a way that infuriated rafe, and he made sure to show hayden when you weren't around how much it pissed him off.

rafe is probably to credit for you never having a boyfriend for an extended period of time, but he can't help it, you're so perfect and no guy can possibly deserve you, so he has to scare them off before you get too invested and give them all of your attention instead of him.

“hey, heyds.” you greet him with a hug after he makes his way down the pier, making rafe grunts as haydens hand rests a little too low on your back for his liking, making rafes mind reel at the possibility of something going on between the two of you.

your other friends slowly begin to pile onto the boat, steph being the last one to get there as she is notorious for being late, which is why you told her to show up half an hour before everyone else, and somehow still managed to get there last.

“ready for takeoff?” you ask rafe, stepping away to join him at the wheel while your group of friends find places to sit while rafe navigates the boat towards the ocean.

“i am.” rafe nods, having disconnected the last line. no matter what is happening, you always sit next to rafe on the bench as he directs the boat, ready to be his second in command at any moment, even if its just fetching him a drink or checking the water depth.

“i can’t wait to swim.” you say with a sigh, having not gotten out into the water all week, which is rare with how much peace you find in the ocean.

“how about that one sandbar we took wheezie to?” rafe questions, wanting you to decide where he anchors the boat.

“ooh, yes.” you nod.

“she complained to me last night that you weren’t over.” rafe smiles at you when you let out a laugh.

“i don’t spend one friday night and she complains! ugh, i love that girl.” you grin thinking about wheezie, treating her like she’s your own little sister, having known her since she was born.

“you’ll stay tonight, right?” rafe asks, missing you sharing his bed like you do every weekend. 

“mhm, i’m not driving home after being out on the boat all day, gonna be so exhausted.” you roll your eyes.

rafe smiles at you, wrapping one arm around his shoulder, leaving him to drive with one hand, but wanting you close to him, secretly hoping hayden would look through the windows from the lower deck and see you all cuddled up into his side.

neither of you have ever broached the topic of taking things beyond just friendship, despite rafe desperately wanting to take things further, he doesn’t want to mess up the one good thing he has in his life. you’re such a source of brightness that when you’re around him he forgets all about his fights with his dad, or issues with barry.

“here.” rafe nods to you, immediately going to drop the anchor, planning to stay in one spot all day.

you help him make sure its secure before moving to the main deck with everyone else. “alright, who is ready to swim?” you shout with glee.

“you know i am.” hayden smirks at you, pulling his shirt off over his head.

“mhm, that’s why i like you, not afraid to get wet.” you say, rafe carefully watching the interaction, unsure if you meant the innuendo or not.

you take your tshirt off as well, tossing it onto the pile that everyone is making on the sofa, revealing swimsuits underneath their clothes. rafe also undresses, but slowly and quietly.

you tug your yoga pants down next, having kicked your shoes off upon entering the boat. you turn towards rafe, always checking in with him, seeking him out amongst the crowd.

rafe smiles at you, his eyes dropping subtly down your body, quickly checking out your pale lilac swimsuit before he sees a different shade of purple, this time blossoming around your knees.

hayden seems to notice too, a smirk growing on his face when he sees the localized bruises.

“what the fuck did you do?” rafe grunts out before he can stop himself and use the calming methods you so carefully taught him.

“what?” hayden turns to look at rafe, but he’s already charging at him. rafe shoves hayden backwards, making him stumble but he manages to maintain his footing.

“rafe, chill!” you shout, grabbing at his arm.

“did he-did you fucking blow him?” rafe questions, pointing to your knees. “how did you get those bruises?” “jesus, rafe!” you take a step back, but don’t drop your grip on his arm, not sure if he would try to pull away. “you seriously ask me that in front of all our friends? for your information i was working out in the garden yesterday and bruised my knees kneeling on the pavers. but thanks for embarrassing me.”

you drop his arm when you feel tears welling in your eyes, quickly turning and sprinting into the interior of the boat.

you throw yourself onto the bed in one of the two bedrooms, hiding your face in the white pillow as you cry. 

“y/n…” rafe says softly. you don’t jump at his voice, you expected him to follow you, but you don’t feel like talking to him.

“please, y/n.” rafe pleads, and you feel his weight dip the bed down as he climbs onto the mattress.

“stop it.” you whine when rafe pulls you into him, but you don’t struggle as he cuddles into you, pressing a kiss against your hair. you’ve cuddled rafe before, of course since you’ve been friends for so long, but never with this little clothing on, and you are very aware of how much of his bare skin is touching yours.

“i didn’t mean to embarrass you, y/n. i just… i just got so angry thinking about you possibly doing anything with hayden. i don’t like him. he’s not good enough for you.”

“why would you even think i would do that though? you know im a virgin.”

the words shock rafe, and you can physically feel him tense up. you pick up your head to look at him, brows furrowed together.

“i-i didn’t know that.” rafe just assumed you lost it to one of your short term boyfriends.

“no… no i would have told you, rafey. you’re my best friend, i… you told me when you lost yours.” you remind rafe of when he was 16 years old and had sex for the first time, calling you only an hour after to confide in you, partly hoping you would get jealous.

“i thought you knew that i wouldn’t want to hear about you sleeping with someone. i guess i just figured you kept it to yourself for my sake.” rafe doesn’t realize the implication of his words as they flow from between his lips.

“why would i?- wait… you like me?” you blink up at him.

rafe pauses. now is as good as time as any, especially with the growing threat of hayden and other guys who aren’t scared of rafe potentially taking you away from him. “yes. i love you. i think i’ve loved you since first grade.” “holy shit, you asshole!” you shout, and it’s not the reaction rafe was expecting as he tenses, waiting for you to run off, or get mad, but instead your shout turns into a laugh, “i can’t believe you didn’t tell me sooner!” and then your lips are on his, finally feeling the perfect meld of your mouths together as rafe quickly snaps into action, his lips moving against yours as he cups your face.

“i love you too, in case it wasn’t obvious.” you whisper against his mouth before resuming the kiss.

“thank fuck, i was ready to murder hayden just because i thought you liked him.” rafe laughs, tugging on your waist to bring your bodies even closer together, leaving his large hand resting against your bare back.

“pshht.” you shake your head. “he’s not even half the man you are.” 

“holy shit, i love you.” rafe repeats, taking you in for another kiss.

“my friends are never gonna believe that we finally got together.” you giggle. “i think they’ve all placed bets.”

“your friends?” rafe shakes his head. “baby, i think even our parents have.”

“i… i’m really happy we admitted are feelings.” you say shyly, a blush covering your cheeks as you look down, breaking eye contact. “everyone told me that you liked me too but i was too nervous to ruin what we had.”

“hey, it’s okay.” rafe says softly. “we have forever this way.”

you feel tears well up in your eyes again as you wrap your arms around rafe, pressing your head into his bare chest.

“gosh, i can’t wait to go tell everyone.” you admit with a giggle.

“yeah? wanna go get in the water too?” rafe asks, unsure if your friends waiting for your argument to be over to swim.

“hell yeah.” you slide off the bed, rafe taking a minute to check out your body, not hiding his heated gaze as you catch him.

“holy shit, you are checking me out!” 

“duh, you’re my girl now.” rafe smirks, also getting off the bed, placing an arm around your shoulder. “gonna give you bruised knees for a different reason, baby.”

“wait, rafe-” you begin, suddenly not feeling like swimming anymore, but he pulls you out onto the deck, seeing all your friends sitting awkwardly on the sofas, waiting for whatever argument to be over with.

“don’t worry baby.” rafe drops his mouth to your ear, making sure your friends can’t hear. “we can talk about that virginity of yours later.” rafe doesn’t give you a second to respond, placing his fingers on your chin and tilting your head towards him to press a kiss to your lips to the chorus of all of your friends letting out woops and claps, along with shouts of “finally!”

“i told you!” tiffy shouts, holding her hand out towards stephanie. “you owe me 20 bucks!”

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[ambrosiagoldfish]

Can you write more Adam fics plz there so freaking good

Benefit of the Doubt PT.2

Adam x 3rd Spouse! Reader

Viewer discretion is advised

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff to Angst to comfort, General Adam TW’s, Reader lowkey-highkey has a complex about being loved, Panic attack (I’m not even sure if this is correct term or not), Adam is afraid of heights (makes sense in story) This is set way before the show, and Gn! Reader (Y/n is once again not used lol)

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4

Request Box: Open

Word count: 3136

A/N: Hi! I’d like to Thank you all for the love and support on Part 1! It means a lot that you all enjoyed it as I loved writing it! I’d also like to apologize for this being a week late, I honestly had 0 idea on how to start this one and then a bunch of stuff in my life happened, so it was a mess.

So as an apology I tried to make this one longer than the first! (I seemed to go a little overboard but it’s fine)

Anyways I hope you all enjoy part 2 to ‘Benefit of the doubt’ and as always, if you do, please tell me if want another part in replies/requests/DM’s!

Proofread but of course could have missed something

Tags: @tired-of-life-86

To think love could feel this good.

You were made for it, to give it, receive it… You’ve waited your entire existence for this love, This closeness. It doesn’t even feel real now, even as you’re walking down the golden lined streets of heaven with his arm wrapped around you, all while you’ve been showing him around. The best places to eat, entertainment, or just a nice park. You made sure to show him all of it.

He kept his wings tucked to his sides, the gold contrasting with the white of his robe. The feathers at first glance looked sharp, but now, being so close to him, you could see each of them individually and how soft they must be.

“Hey Sweetcheeks, my eyes are up here”

You jump slightly “Sorry… Adam.” You avert your eyes away from him and focus them in front of you.

Adam laughed “I didn’t say you had to fuxkin’ to stop”

His wings truly were beautiful. It was hard to keep your eyes off them. Adam had only got to heaven recently, it made you wonder if he had the chance to use them yet. You remember when you were first created, wings took forever to get used to. You crashed and fell so many times before you figured out how to use them

Properly.

“Ok seriously, you keep staring, what the fxck is up with you?”

“It’s nothing, just…. Have you tried out your wings yet?”

“Uh, yeah totally, they’re rad as hell” Adam’s voice drifted off, the LED eyes of his mask looking away from you as you both walked. Was he… lying? Why would he lie?

You quickly walked in front of Adam, leaving his warm embrace, gently you took his hands as your wings picked you off the ground. The gust of wind with each flap softly blew around you.

“Well, come on, it will be faster than walking.” Your voice was soft and airy. Slowly, so very slowly, you lifted yourself higher from the ground, Adam’s hands locked firmly in yours, as he was pulled with you in the air.

“W-Wait a- shit- Wait a- motherfuxking second“ Adam yelled strand after strand of curses as you both lifted further and further into the air. His body flailed and his legs kicked against nothing. You pull him to you, his arms quickly snake around your waist, holding on for his dear After-life.

“Adam… did you lie to me?” Your voice was still so soft, so calm, so sweet.

“Fuck- yes I lied, I’m sorry, so put me the fuck down you crazy asshole-“ Vulgar as ever, his voice had fear in it, the LED eyes were forced shut and his grip around you was getting tighter and tighter.

Your arms wrapped around Adam’s head as you laid back, letting The wind breeze from the air pull and push you along its path with your wings soaring through the clouds..

“Adam, it’s ok, I promise you’re fine, all you have to do is open your eyes.”

You pet the back of his neck trying to sooth him which seemed to work after a few seconds. Adam didn’t want to, he really didn’t want to open his eyes. But the longer he kept them close, the more you would whisper soft words of encouragement to him. Eventually, his eyes slowly but surely opened.

“See? There is nothing to be scared of. I’ve got you.”

You hold him closer in your embrace. Adam looked below, the white vastness of heaven’s clouds beneath you both felt unreal, but as amazing a sight it was, Adam’s grip on you didn’t loosen.

“So… I’m guessing you don’t know how to fly yet?” You laugh a little, rubbing a spot on his back, just between his wings comfortingly.

Adam huffed and looked away “oh! I couldn’t fxcking see that!”

You held him close to you. The embrace seemed never ending, and you loved every second of it. Feeling the warmth of his plump body next to you was like a dream come true.

“Here let me just…”

You moved your hands slowly down his arms, caressing the soft flesh as they moved to eventually be at his hands behind you. You began to leisurely undo the grip he had around you.

“What do you think you're doing-“

“Shhh, relax, just trust me, ok?”

With each finger being removed from you, the grip lessened bit by bit, until eventually his hands were fully in yours. Your face leaned closer to his,

“Come on, just give your wings a good flap, trust me.”

“Ugh…. Fine but I swear to god if you let go-“

“I won’t.” Your voice was firm, yet still remained reassuring.

Adam didn’t want to do this. He really didn’t want to. But what other choice did he have? He gruffs and extends his wings from his body. The wind brushed and tickled at his feathers. The way the light hit them caused a glare of gold to be cast from them, enveloping you both. Then, he gave two hard flaps of his wings, he lifted up slightly before quickly falling back to where he was.

“There you go! Now keep doing that.”

Adam continued, his wings slowly pushing him up and up before being sent back down when he stopped. This repeated for a few minutes until he finally got a grip on it. The entire time, you were laughing. Pure unadulterated laughs of joy.

Truly, to think love could feel this good?

“See? You're a natural!”

“Of course I am! I’m the Original Dick, obviously I’d… be good at this… flying… shit.” With all the parading he was doing he kept forgetting to use his wings causing him to fall. ‘A natural’ may have been an overstatement on your part, but hey? At least he hasn’t fallen flat on his face yet!

Gently, you led him through air, giving him reassurance every few feet you flew, never letting go. Seconds turned to minutes, minutes to hours. Before you knew it a brisk orange sunset encased you both with its hue. That’s when you realized just how long you both had been flying.

“You must be tired with sightseeing all day… I think it’s time we go home and rest, yeah?”

“Home?” Adam’s voice sounded for a moment genuinely confused. Had he not been told he’d have a place to live in heaven? As much respect you had for Sera, you’ll have to file a complaint to avoid this with future souls.

You gripped his hand and opened your wings letting the wind lead you through the clouds and above the city. The angels below look like ants at the height you both were. It was peaceful, the flight back home. But it did seem… off? So… quiet? You couldn’t put it together, at least not at the moment, But Adam hadn’t spoken a word since you both left.

Adam, while yes, he was initially confused, it made sense to him, why wouldn’t heaven have a place for its people, a place for each of them to relax, to feel safe, happy, at home.

Home was such a weird word for Adam. Has he ever felt like a place was his ‘home’? The closest thing to it was the Garden of Eden but even that proved to be anything but a home for him. Ever since that snake entered his garden.

No. He can’t think about that now. He doesn’t want to have to think about that again. But oh-do thoughts love to worm their way back into your mind when you least want them to. He’s snaps out of his thoughts when your voice picks up

“Ok, we’re here! Just get yourself settled in and I’ll go make us something to eat. I didn't really know what food you’d like so I mainly just have junk food… I hope that's ok.”

Adam nods his head nonchalantly

You smile, waking him over to the small, plush couch in the living room and handing him a blanket and some pillows. Telling him to wait a second as you fetch some food, leaving him alone.

Adam thought your house seemed welcoming enough, ‘well… our house’ Adam thought. The living room was dark aside from a few luminous lights around the room as well as the small blue gleam from the windows from the night sky.

The couch was comfortable and the pillows just as much. And the blanket you gave him was soft and warm. This really was heaven, huh?

His thoughts are, once again, interrupted by your voice, “Ok here we go, I’ve got snacks and some soda” you say, handing him some of the many food you ravaged from your fridge and sitting beside him, wrapping yourself in the shared blanket.

Grabbing the remote lying next to you, you flick on the TV flipping through the channel before ending on a cheesy sitcom, you keep the volume low wanting to enjoy any conversation with Adam. Except… he never started one. So that’s what felt off.

The entire time you flew back home, got snacks and found something to watch. He hadn't said a word. You may not have known him long but even you had already picked up that he was an advid talker in a conversation.

“Is… everything ok Adam?” You whispered, not want to scare him with your random words.

“What kind of question is that, I’m fxcking fine… I’m fine.” His voice trailed off at the end almost getting as quiet as yours.

“Are you sure cause-“

“I said I’m fuxking fine!” His voice roared through the dark room. Gritty and callous, but you could tell it was meant to hide something. Something he didn’t want you to see.

“I’m sorry…” you paused. What did you want to say from here? What could you say? You took a deep breath and tried to continue. “I… I know I said this earlier… when Sera left.”

Adam’s LED mask looked away from you half shut eyes and a frown forming a scowl on it, but still he let you continue.

“But I’m going to say it again anyways cause… I mean it. I’m really happy to have you here. To finally have you home” you place your arm around Adam’s back rubbing it soothingly as let your head slowly lax onto him, gently cuddling close to him.

That word again… home. That’s all he could think about ever since he first heard you say it. Why? Why couldn’t he get it out of his head? His breathing was becoming unsteady with each new thought and image his brain made. Lilith and Eve, they were made to be apart of his home, for him to be apart of their homes. So why? Why did it end that way?

Suddenly Adam leap from the couch as fast as he could, the shear force knocking you to the other side of the couch, sending the food to scatter and drinks to spill to the floor.

“Adam!?” Your voice was frightened at the sudden movement. Adam looked just as frightened as you, at least from what you could tell through the LED mask. He suddenly began running, where? he didn’t know, the rooms in the house looked the same. But all he knew is that he needed to be away from you. You followed quickly behind him and pleaded for him to tell you what was wrong, but eventually he ran into a room and locked the door.

He looked around, already out of breath. He was in a bathroom. He felt his knees give out under him as he tried to slowly sit down by the tub. His breath heavy, it was hard to breathe, this stupid mask. He needed it off. But just as he went to do so,

*rattle rattle rattle*

The doorknob began to move followed by frantic knocking on the door.

“Adam! Are you ok?!” Your voice pleaded through the wood of the door.

“Fuxk- I'm fine! How many times do I have to tell you that shit” his voice cracked a few times followed by a strand of curses leaving his lips.

Home. The word repeated like a mantra in his head. Like it was mocking him. Was he not meant to have a place he called a home? To have someone to return to, who would tell him “welcome back!” Without even being told to?

Lilith hated him, Eve betrayed and hurt him like no one else before, ever. They were made to be with him, one was literally made to be his other half. The garden, his home, was taken from him because of something, someone he couldn’t control. it all comes back to him. That albino snake in the grass.

Lucifer, ‘The dreamer’… was this some sort of game to him? To toy with his emotions, treat him like some kind of plaything to mess with, to screw over? What kind of life was it? To have every opportunity and opening be broken down by him, And Adam being powerless to stop it?

“Adam! Please open the door!” Your voice was even more frantic now, knocking every few seconds before it quickly quieted down. Your body slumped against the door.

“Adam… I’m sorry if I hurt you or… or if I was going too fast… I didn't mean to… I’m so sorry…” your breath hitched with tears.

And then there was you.

You have been nothing but kind to him since you met him. You showed him around heaven, taught him how to fly and welcomed him home without having being told to. You were so different. So, so very different. Adam figure that out a while ago now. But in reality, it’s exactly why he was terrified.

To have someone who loves him so... unconditionally.

*click*

The sound of the door unlocking drew your attention and was followed by it slowly opening from Adam on the other side, still on the floor.

“Adam!” Your voice was low, already tired from crying. You crawled your way toward him before stopping in front of him, tears still falling from your face, “I’m sorry Adam, I’m sorry-“ you were cut off by a quick movement.

Warmth enveloped you, clouding your senses as a soft weight laid onto you. Arms wrapped their way around you in an embrace.

“Shit- it's not your fault, it was never your fault…” Adam’s voice was surprisingly soft, a stark contrast to his regular tone. Sincerity evident with each word. All you could do was hide into his large frame and cry at the words.

Adam was never good at comforting people. He himself was never comforted, so the concept was more than a bit foreign to him. But even still, he tried. Slowly he helped you both up from the bathroom floor and made your way back to the couch.

The floor was covered in the discarded food you both left behind. The spilled soda is now dried and sticky. Crumbs everywhere.

“Here.. let me get a mop and broom-“

“No just sit down, I’ll clean up the shit I made” you lay down on the couch and watched as Adam swept and mopped the mess from the floor. The entire time the silence hung in the air by a thread. Neither of you wanting to be the one to snap the string and speak.

Finally Adam got done cleaning the mess and made his way to the couch. He sat down and gestured for you to come closer. Crawling over to him, he wrapped the blanket around you both allowing you to snuggle into him.

“Do…” your voice barely audible “Do you want to talk about it?”

Adam looked hesitant but nodded.

“You know about everything, right? About… what all happened in Eden?

You nod against his chest content on listening.

“When… When Lilith left me, I thought I didn't care as much as I did. I thought she was a bitch and that was that. And it didn’t help that as soon as she left, I got Eve…”

He paused

“Then, when I found out about that shit between Eve and Lucifer… I didn’t care then either, but I didn’t understand why…” his voice hitched “but when I ate that damn apple… I realized how hurt I should have been. All the concepts of right and wrong, good and evil, learning all of it through that fruit, I realized one shitty truth… that the one I loved betrayed me.”

You hugged him tighter softly, your hands caressed his stomach as some form of comfort before he continued.

“For the same person- Both of them for that snake…”

“Adam… I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”

“And that’s why… I’m scared. Scared that I will fuxk up again and get… attached to you. Because every. single. time. He ruins it. And I don't want to see that happen with you.”

Your heart ached for him, the saddening look of his LED mask as he talked only furthered your emotions. Slowly your hands made their way to his face, he looks at you confused, your fingertips crept under the mask before his hand shot up and held your wrist slightly, carefully not holding it too tight.

“Sorry fuck- I’m.. I’m not ready.”

You smile and nod understanding “Adam. I love you… with all of my heart. And I would never do what those two done to you. “

Adam thought for a moment deciding what to say.

“Promise?” was all he could think of, his voice, mind, and body were all too tired to speak more about it.

You slowly remove your hands from his mask, instead taking one of his hands into yours.

“I promise, I would never betray you, let alone talk to that man” ever-so lightly, a soft golden glow burned between yours and Adam’s hands, the gold flame was warm and comforting to both of you as it rose and grew in strength.

From the flame, a string wrapped and warped itself around both yours and Adam’s pinky fingers. The string tightened and loosened as it moved, before finally melting away leaving only two solid gold rings behind, One on Adam’s finger and the other on yours.

“What the hell was that?” Adam’s voice was filled with bewilderment

“A deal- or I guess a promise. In this case”

“Shit, You didn’t have to do that-“ this time it was your turn to interrupt him. You bring Adam’s hand to your lips, and give a kiss on his newly formed ring before lying down and cuddling into Adam.

“I know.”

For once in his life, Adam felt at ease with love. How easy it was to fall for you.

Is this what home feels like?

[schrodingerscougar]

Note: the 2nd part for this. fem!reader. cheating. i didn’t think you would like it so much, but since you did, here’s part two.

•••

Maybe if he watched you close enough, if he kept an eye on you while he was near, Simon would get the answers he was looking for. All he wanted was a glimpse into your mind, a glint in your eyes that would give away why you’d spent those nights by his side without saying anything about it.

The mission was slowly coming to an end, and he had overheard you and Johnny talk about your plans for your time home. The Scotsman offered to go on a short trip with you to Rome, visiting the city you’d read so much about in the past year or so. Going there was a promise you made to yourself on New Year’s Day and he was more than happy to help make it happen.

“Have you introduced her to your family?” Simon asked Johnny one evening when they went out for a drink.

The younger man gave him a confused look, but once the lieutenant motioned towards the corner of the bar where you were deep in a conversation with Laswell, his lips formed a flat line and he nodded a few times. “Yeah, well, I mentioned her once to my sister, and the next thing I know, my mother’s blowing up my phone. I’d rather keep her away from this insanity,” he explained.

“Wise choice.”

He hated this. He hated to know that Johnny was dating you, he hated to keep up this nice conversation with him, all while he was struggling to find out why you cared about him back then. His mind was full of stupid ideas again, that maybe you weren’t that deeply in love with the fellow sergeant. What if he was just your backup plan? What if the one you truly wanted was him?

Fucking hell. He was truly losing his grip.

“I’m going back to the base.”

Simon looked to the side, only to find you standing there with this adorable warm smile on your perfect, kissable lips. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Johnny taking your hand, his fingers lacing with yours before he raised it to his mouth to place a soft kiss on it.

He definitely didn’t have the right to be upset about it. Yet, he felt a pang of jealousy, and he was maybe even offended by the way Johnny’s blue eyes shined when he looked at you. His mind was telling him it should be him, even though he knew it was against the regulations.

“Let me finish my drink and I’ll walk you back,” Johnny said, but you just shook your head and told him he should take his time, have fun, and maybe he should talk to the others too. “You think I’m ignoring them? Well, I do spend a lot of time in the Lt’s company, that’s true,” he mused.

After he took a glance at the empty glass next to him, Simon had an idea. “I’m done for today anyway, I can go with her if you don’t want her to go alone,” he offered.

While Johnny seemed happy that he was kind enough to go with you, you looked hesitant. Unsure. Damn, if he didn’t know any better he would’ve said you looked scared for a moment. But why would you be scared? He didn’t do anything that could scare you.

In the end you agreed, so the two of you were soon out on the street, walking side by side. The need to reach out and take your hand poisoned Simon’s mind, and he decided to stuff his hands into the pockets of his jacket instead. He glanced over at you every so often, enjoying the view that he wouldn’t see for a few weeks at least.

“Why did you stay by my side in the infirmary while I was recovering?” he suddenly asked, his eyes fixed on you to see your facial expression.

And sure enough, at first you looked shocked. “What do you mean?” you inquired innocently.

With a sigh, Simon came to a halt and grabbed your wrist to make you stop as well. “I saw you there. And the doctor confirmed that you spent every night there with me while I was knocked out.”

“Look, it’s—”

“Why? I need to know,” he pressed on.

You buried your fingers into your hair as you spinned on your heels to turn away from him. “I don’t know, I just didn’t want you to be alone,” you admitted.

Once he took a deep breath, he was quick to blow it out. “So you stayed out of pity?”

“No! I mean… God, Ghost, I don’t know, okay? It just didn’t feel right to let you lie there on your own, I didn’t want you to wake up alone, and—”

He shouldn’t have done it, but it felt so good. Because Simon launched forward, his big palm placed on the back of your neck as his lips crashed into yours. At first you were frozen from surprise, but then you returned his kiss, lips moving against each other in perfect sync. He had been waiting for this for so long that he couldn’t even believe it was happening.

He was only pulled back to reality by your voice after you pulled away and took a few steps away from him. “What the hell are you doing?” you asked. “Fuck, what the hell am I doing?”

“It’s okay, we can always pretend it never happened,” he said with an aching heart.

“You don’t get it, do you?” When Simon shrugged and shook his head, you walked back to him and poked his chest with your index finger. “I’m with Johnny, this is totally against the rules, and no matter how badly I always wanted to know what it would be like to kiss you, this can’t happen again. But I know it happened and it’s going to torture me now.”

With a gulp, Simon nodded. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what got into me,” he said with a sigh.

To his surprise, you put a hand on his now masked cheek, a move so gentle that he was beginning to get very confused. And when you pulled down his mask, things got even more confusing, because you stood on your toes and kissed him again. This time you let yourself go, your fingers grabbing a fistful of his hair as you moaned against his lips.

“We should get going,” you said once you let him go and pulled his mask back to its place.

“I don’t understand what’s going on.”

Instead of answering, you flashed a smile at him, making his life a living hell by playing an innocent angel. But then you curled your finger to make him come a little closer. “Neither do I. But we will have to figure it out.”

(part 3)