#day 5 stroke of genius

[loganslowdown4]

Roman: Ahhhhh my boyfriend is injured, I need to call 911 but the 9 button isn’t working for some reason!!!

Patton: It’s ok, I know what to do! Turn the phone upside down and use the 6!

Roman: That’s GENIUS!

Logan: What in- that’s- you both need to stop, I just rolled my ankle, I’m FINE. I need to go lie down from what you two just said but otherwise I’m fine *sigh*

[oatmeal-stans-the-trash-rat]

A Plot Hole and Reassurance

Ayy, another hurt/comfort fic because I have a problem. If ya want to be added or taken off the taglist, pls ask!

Pairing: Logince, gen

Trigger/Content Warning: insecurity, touch-starvation

Description: Logan doubts any and all creative merit he has. How could he be creative when he isn’t even Creativity? Roman doubts his own intelligence. How can he be smart when he struggles with basic logic? They both prove each other wrong in a wonderful brainstorming session, finally solving a plot hole the size of Thomas’ heart.

Extra: written for Day 5: Stroke of Genius of @loginceweek2024! And now to project on these poor men. Made myself cry, whoops. Relating to Roman as someone with a cognitive disorder. [Masterlist] | ao3 link

[read under the cut]

How can one be creative without being Creativity, and how can one be smart when traditional smart things are hard for them? 

Surely, Logan can’t be creative. He isn’t Creativity. He’s Logic. He knows math and science and the stars. He can calculate in multiple variations, speak certain phrases in a multitude of languages, and spit out random facts without any prompt to do so. He’s reasonable for Reason and Critical Thinking and Common Sense. He isn’t creative, no matter what the Others say. No matter what Thomas may believe, Logan is Logic. That’s it. No matter how much he wishes he could understand Roman’s realm a bit more… it’s fine. He doesn’t have to be creative to be important, right? Even if he’s a part of a person who relies more on his creative merits for a career. And, yeah, the Chemical Engineering degree didn’t get him anywhere. 

But he still needs his Logic! Everyone needs some Logic. Isn’t that how humans function best, with thoughts and reasoning? It’s fine. 

Even when he really needs some creativity of his own to help with a ridiculously-sized plot hole, which no one can seem to find a solution to. 

“How did this happen, again?”

“I don’t know, specs. Isn’t that your realm, hm? Aren’t you Logic?”

“Your point being?”

“My point is you’re the one with solutions! You, out of everyone else, have this unique ability to whip up solutions to problems that no one else sees. You have this- this super power that I’d be a coward not to acknowledge. You’re smart beyond belief, Logan,” Roman’s eyes sparkle when he gushes about Logan, almost forgetting himself and where he is. 

Logan rolls his eyes, a light blush forming from the compliments he’s still not used to hearing. Ever since the unforchunate events of the post-wedding meeting, they’d gone to each other and apologized for their past mistakes. They’d been trying to rebuild their bond, which included Roman letting Logan know just how much he appreciated him. Logan has been a lot more kind with his criticisms, trying to be less harsh and more understanding. He’s always been astounded by Roman’s creativity and the way he ropes certain things together, and it’d been about time he told the Prince that. And every time he hears it, the royal has a hard time believing him. It’s been made clear just how much Roman’s been hurt and tossed around and used, and Logan’s done being a part of the cause. Now, even when they disagree, Logan makes sure Roman knows he’ll support him. He has his back, and Roman has his. 

“It’s intelligent,” Logan playfully corrects, a small smirk tugs at his lips. “And… I don’t always have solutions, Roman. I’m not a- well, I don’t have superpowers. That’s absurd. I’m only a part of a human, much less a super one.”

Roman pauses, showing a look of concern that confuses the nerd. 

“What were you gonna say?”

“What?”

“You were saying something but cut yourself off. What were you gonna say, specs?”

“It’s irrelevant-”

“Logan.” 

Logan stops, snapping his mouth shut. He glances away, avoiding Roman’s worried face. Sometimes, it’s hard to believe that he has someone on his side. Too used to being ignored by everyone and silenced, it feels too unreal. Sometimes. He tenses, his shoulders scrunching themselves up. His jaw clenches, and Roman can’t stifle the noise of concern that slips out. 

Roman sighs, “I don’t mean to scare you, cosmonaut. It just worried me.”

“...don’t laugh, please?”

“Of course not, cosmonaut. I won’t huff and puff any sound.”

Logan exhales a small laugh at the fairytale reference. He bites his lip for a moment, stopping once he realizes. He closes eyes, takes a breath, and looks at Roman.

“I meant to say that I’m… I’m not a robot. I don’t always have the answers to things, Roman.”

Logan’s voice is so unsure and soft and cautious that it makes Roman’s chest ache. 

“I didn’t think you were, starlight. I’m sorry if I made it seem like I did. You amaze me with your intelligence, okay? That’s all I meant. You’re so intelligent and thoughtful, and you excel at all these smart things that I just don’t. I’m not really smart, and you always impress me with that brain of yours.”

Logan relaxes his shoulders and unclenches his jaw as he processes Roman’s words. It feels better, knowing he impresses Roman. Roman, who’s creativity rivals the greatest artists. I mean, objectively. Don’t tell Remus he said that. 

However, it’s now Logan’s turn to look concerned as he processes the rest of his prince’s words. Roman smiles confused as he tilts his head at his detective. 

“What is it, specs?”

“You aren’t smart?”

“Well, yeah, I know that.”

“No- Roman, why don’t you think you’re smart?”

“I mean, have you met me? I’m Creativity, specs, that doesn’t really account for a lot of brains. That’s your domain.”

“Roman, how can you not be smart? Who told you, you weren’t?”

“I- um, what?”

“Who told you? I apologize if I ever gave off that, uh, ‘vibe’, as you say-”

“What? No, you didn’t. It’s fine.”

“Ro.”

Roman rolls his eyes.

“...is it because of the whole ‘el príncipe es estúpido’ thing?”

“Whaaa, no. It’s not important, specs.”

“It is, because it’s you and you’re important.” 

Roman stutters before shutting up, looking away and crossing his arms stubbornly. 

“Roman.”

He huffs.

“My prince, please.”

Roman risks a glance at his astrophile, softening when he sees his unrestrained worry on his beautiful face. The pet name makes him blush and dissolve his stubbornness a bit. That goddamn voice when he says it. For f*ck’s sake, how can one person be so good at doing that- that? That thing he does when he’s worried and gentle and soft. Goddamnit. 

Roman sighs, “...maybe.”

“My prince, I am sorry I hurt you like that. If I could time travel, I’d make sure I never started in the first place.”

“You’ve already apologized, specs.”

“I know, but I’ll say it again if it helps. And it’s still hurting you.”

Logan holds out his hands, and Roman lets him grab his own as he unfolds his arms. The touch surges warmth through his arms and burns a deep squishy part in his chest. He gasps for a moment, trying to get a hold of himself as the fire in his heart crackles brighter than it has in a long time. He wobbles a little bit, and Logan holds him tighter as he does. The detective frowns, worry increasing. 

“It’s not just- just- how’d you get so warm?” Roman’s eyes haze over as Logan rubs soft circles on his knuckles. 

“Oh, Roman. You poor, poor thing,” Logan mumbles, cupping one hand on his face. 

Roman’s now-free hand grabs blindly for Logan’s arm, gripping it like a lifeline. Logan strokes his thumb lightly across his prince’s jaw, and it wobbles slightly. Roman’s eyes grow misty. 

“My prince, how long has it been since someone last touched you?”

“I don’t- please,” the Prince whines as his eyes shut, unsure what he’s even begging for. 

“Shh, I’ve got you, I’ve got you.”

Logan cups Roman’s face with his other hand. Roman responds by melting and grabbing his other arm, trying to ground himself in the surreal reality that this is real, he’s really holding my face, he’s really there. Roman can only lean forward to set his forehead on Logan’s as he feels him shake and become unsteady. 

After a few minutes, Roman finally attempts speaking again. 

“I need… I can’t think when you do this.”

Logan nods, reluctantly letting go of Roman’s face. The knight in gold, white, and red whimpers at the loss of warmth. He forces himself to ease on Logan’s arms, opening his eyes but remains looking at the floor. 

“It’s not just the whole… ‘el príncipe es estúpido’  thing. I guess I, well, I’m not very good with the basic logic things. I’m not- I don’t understand common sense or the most basic of smarts. Not like you do, not in any way, and I’m not smart. How can I be smart if I can’t understand those things?”

“Can I touch you again, my prince?”

Roman glances up to Logan’s eyes the best he can with their head so close, and he nods. He stumbles again when he feels all the burning warmth rush back as Logan cups his face again. He goes back to everything he did previously, and it just melts the poor royal. Logan can’t hold back his coo as Roman’s eyes flutter shut again. 

“Just because you struggle with a lot of cognitive smarts doesn’t mean you aren’t smart. Far from it. It simply means that your intelligence comes from your creativity rather than your logic. I think it’s wonderful how smart you are, Roman. You’re so creative and know how to tie together certain things and sew up loopholes without batting a figurative eye. I’m astounded by your intelligence. You impress me more times than I can remember with your problem-solving when it comes to using your creative merits for more than storybooks.”

Roman is breathless by the time Logan ends, feeling unnoticed tears fall down his face and over Logan’s hands. Logan gently thumbs them away as Roman sniffles, crying harder. 

“I don’t know if I can believe you, Lo,” he cries. 

“That’s okay. I’ll be here to remind you until you do, my prince.”

“Even when I do?”

“If you want me, then yes.”

“I do, I do want you, Logan.”

Logan smiles kindly, pressing a light kiss to his companion’s nose. Roman gives a watery smile in return. The detective lets go of his face and holds out his arms slightly, separating from his prince for a second. 

“Come here, my prince. Come let me hold you- oof.”

Roman rushes into his astrophile’s arms, feeling Logan wrap around him tightly. He cries still, burying his face into his companion’s chest. Logan rubs bigger circles on Roman’s shoulder blades. It makes his precious royal gasp and his breath hitch as he leans more into him. 

“There you go. Just like that, my prince.”

It takes a while- both unsure how long- but eventually, the burning slowly eases to a vibrant warmth in Roman’s chest. Logan leans his head back to look at his knight. 

“Feel any better, hm?”

“Mhm,” Roman feels hazy and wonderfully fuzzy as he relaxes and slumps against his fellow Side’s body. 

“Good. You think we can try working out the plot hole now?”

“Mm, yeah. Just give me a minute, specs.”

“Okay,” he says as he kisses Roman's hair. 

A few minutes later, and Roman finally comes to. He blinks, easing out of Logan’s embrace. He rubs his red-rimmed eyes, mentally noting to fix his makeup later. He notices some of it got on Logan, along with wet tear-spots and snot. 

“Sorry for getting all my stuffs on you,” he speaks softly. 

Logan looks down, huffing amused. 

“It’s quite alright, Roman. I can always wash it.”

“But you’re always so clean, specs. What would you do if I ruined your reputation?” the Prince jokes. 

Logan smirks playfully, “Then I guess I’d have to get you back.”

“And how would you do that?”

“Well, I can’t just tell you my secrets.”

“Logan, that’s not fair.”

“Oh? How’s that?”

“No. No, I know that’s a trap, no.”

They both snicker at each other before calming down. 

“Okay, now the plot hole?”

“Right. Well, it’s for the short story, right?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, let’s see… so we come to the part where the protagonists are captured at the antagonists’ lair, and they know them already. So, how do they?”

Logan huffs, “I’m not very good with creativity, Roman.”

Roman gives him a weird look, but decides to brush it off for the time being.

“Well, how do people usually find out who you are without you telling them first?”

“If we look at history… usually, it’s because someone else told them.”

“Okay, what else?”

“I don’t know, Roman.”

“Well, neither do I! Come on, specs. Go deeper, keep thinking.”

Logan sighs, “Okay. Historically, it’s because someone who knows you already tells the other person without your knowledge. Like figuratively spilling a secret, if you want to go that far.”

Roman nods, “Okay, okay. How do we apply that to our main plotline?”

“Roman-”

“Specs.”

“Fine, if you insist so much. During wartime, there’s a trend of spies or double agents spreading country secrets.”

Roman’s eyes light up like spotlights as an idea forms.

“Oh my gosh, that’s it! Specs, you’re a genius.”

Logan blushes as he raises an eyebrow inquisitively. 

“Do tell, Roman.”

“What if one of them were a mole, a spy in the ranks, a betrayer in their adventuring group? That’s how they know the protagonists and who they are. Oh, what if it’s the leader? I need my binder-”

Logan smiles as the plot holes gets resolved, glad he can help in any way. Roman summons his binder and a pen, flipping to the page they marked last session. He scribbles, excited as he writes, bursting and vibrating with creative energy. 

“I’m glad it got sorted out, Roman.”

Roman’s smile is alike the Moon; bright, addictive to look at, and could be considered divine. 

“If it wasn’t for your creative stroke of genius, it wouldn’t have been. I appreciate it, specs.”

Roman almost misses the small way Logan shrinks. The astrophile rolls his eyes and scoffs. 

“I’m not Creativity, Roman. I can’t be creative.”

The aforementioned knight immediately looks up as he stops writing. 

“And why not, faux serpent?”

“I’m not lying, Roman. I don’t have creativity. I’m Logic, not-”

“So? If I can be smart and sh*t, why can’t you be creative?”

“Because- because I’m just not.”

“Oh? Who said that I, a very not-logic-smart faucet, was smart but in my own way? The same logic applies to you, specs. You just proved you’re creative!”

“By what? Knowing historical facts?”

“Yes!”

“How is that creative, Roman?”

“It’s creative in your own way, Logan. You using your logic and facts to come up with a solution for a plot hole, that’s creative. That’s how.” 

Logan scoffs in disbelief.

“Starlight, why don’t you believe me?”

“Because I can’t be creative! I’m not- that’s not how it works.”

“And why not? Why can’t you be creative?”

“Because I’m not you! I’m not Creativity. You and Remus have your own creative merits, and you know how to weave together irrelevant pilot points and make it make sense. You’re so impressive with how much intelligence and hard work it takes to do what you do, Roman. And I’m… I’m not you.”

Roman sets his pen and binder down on the nearest table, walking calmly towards his companion. He holds out his hands, just as Logan did for him, offering to hold his. Logan takes his hands silently, looking down at them rather than at Roman. 

“Oh, starlight. You don’t have to be me to be creative. I appreciate all the praise, you know I do. You don’t have to be like me nor Remus. I mean, sometimes you two have frighteningly similar interests in subjects, which is just weird,” Roman jokes, squeezing his astrohphile’s hands, making him snort. “But you can still be creative, my dearest star. You helped me solve a horribly troublesome plot hole with that creative, wonderfully logical brain of yours. You’re just creative differently from Remus and I.”

Logan huffs, smiling slightly as he looks back up at Roman. Roman smiles back. 

“I hate when you use my words against me,” he grumbles. 

“Well, I guess you need to stop being right, then.”

“I thought I wasn’t right all the time, Roman. Admitting I’m right when you’re not, are you?”

“Hey- no, don’t you dare.”

“Don’t I dare do what?”

“No.”

They both break into laughter, yet again, and almost forget that they’re still holding hands. 

“...can I hug you again, Roman?”

“I’ll do you better, specs. Let me finish the last bits of fixing this plot hole, and we’ll go cuddle and watch that crow documentary you wanted to see?”

Logan’s smile grows, “Okay.”

Roman plants a light kiss to his detective’s hand before he lets go and returns to his binder. 

After he finishes writing, they do as promised. Roman summons away his pen and story binder, taking Logan by hand over to his room. He has a tv mounted on one of his walls, a remote on his bedside. He and Logan snap themselves into soft things and gather up on the bed, already summoning a few snacks and drinks. The Prince snaps, summoning a wipe and decides to clean the excess makeup off. They cuddle tightly together. Roman melts at how warm Logan is, and Logan feels reassured with Roman by his side. Roman clicks over to the crow documentary and presses play. As it starts, he leans his head against Logan’s shoulder. A small, fond smile tugs at the nerd’s lips. 

They prove each other’s insecurities wrong and rest against each other for a while.

Taglist: @lost-in-thought-20 @thegoldenduckie

[imeverywoman420]

*replaceable e girl everyone forgets next month makes five figures by doing weirdo stuff that effectively ruins her chances of ever being anything besides an onlyfans girl that makes less and less each year.* Ohhhh my goddd shes a business Jenius youre just mad bc she figured out how to market herself and make money from doing nothing besides changing every aspect of who she is and degrading herself in front of millions of people and dieting and stroking her simps egos so they keep throwing pennies at her. shes a girlbossss youre just a haterrrr shes actually so smart its so impressive that a thousand guys gave her $5 for her onlyfans nobodys ever seen business genius like that before. You just hate seeing women succeed why do you hate seeing women empower themselves. You see what she did was look pretty and stand there until the wave of incels looking for feet pics came in. Business. Genius. Nobody has ever done that. And youre bitter mad and jelly that shes a real girlboss with her own independent money. Her own independent money that she earns every day by wearing a maid costume and acting like a mentally deficient child and BEGGING incels for their crumpled up $5.

Same thing with sugar babies and leveling up/hypergamy women. They really try to convince you that youre scamming the men and not the other way around. Youre shaping your whole life around getting them to throw money at you and you think youre the one in control…..

[system-to-the-madness]

My Cards - Spencer Reid x Reader

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader (can be read as any gender, no pronouns used) Genre: angst to fluff, hurt/comfort Word Count: 2 916 Warnings: mentions of canon-typical violence (abduction, murder), mentions of drug use in the past Summary: At the day that Spencer is clean for eleven years, he decides it’s time to show you his cards. A/N: I've got a few asorted fics that I've writen ages ago, and will publish one after another (might sprinkle some anime and soc in between). Sorry for that already. If you want to block a certain fandom: the tag to blog is #mad (fandom shortcut) for criminal minds, that would be #mad cm

13 years. That’s how long Spencer Reid was your colleague already. Actually – he would correct you – it had been 13 years, 1 month, 2 weeks, 5 days, 14 hours, 7 minutes and approximately 26 seconds.

You were not sure for how long he had been your best friend. Probably 12 years. Spencer would not have been able to answer that question if you had asked him. After all this time he still sometimes struggled in accepting that there was someone he could call whenever, literally whenever he needed someone.

You had been with him through thick and thin, had been there for him after he had been abducted by Hankel, had comforted him, when he had cried for Hotch and Jack after Hayley had been murdered, had talked until the early hours of the morning after Emily had supposedly died. You had never been further than a phone call away, had never complained when he called you in the late hours of the night because he had had another nightmare, had cooked him tea or watched trashy soap operas with him when he had felt down.

He wondered if he had ever paid you back enough. Whether the few times you had called him after a nightmare or a traumatic event or a bad case would ever be enough to make up for what you had given him. With you around, his flat felt like a home, with you on the other end of the sofa he did not worry about the shadows lingering in the corners of the room.

He felt like a pervert for the many times he had asked you to share a bad with him, so he could fall asleep more easily. Every time, without fail you had climbed under the covers with him, maybe even wrapped your arms around him and stroked his back, lulling him to sleep. He hated himself for all the times he had reached out a hand while you were sleeping, to feel if you were really there, if your skin was warm, your chest lifting and lowering with even breaths.

People often liked calling him a genius, but it had taken him many years to figure out that somewhere along the line he had fallen in love with you after you had prevented his complete self-destruction over Maeve‘s death. He felt guilty for it, for having fallen in love with you while you had helped him grieve another woman he had loved, and somewhere in his heart still did. One night you had told him, that he would always carry the people he had once loved in his heart. He had asked how it would ever be possible for someone to accept him if a part of him still loved someone else. You had shrugged at that and answered, that this person would have to understand that we are made off who and what we love, that this way Maeve had become a part of him, which this person would love too, if they loved him. He had nodded at that, and wondered if you could ever love him.

When he had first realised his feelings for you, he had thought his heart wanted to numb itself by making up emotions for you to forget about Maeve, but after years he felt just as strongly about you as he had back then, and he came to the conclusion that maybe he had always loved you, deep in his heart.

12 years. That’s how long you had been friends with Spencer. And yet you had the distinct feeling, that tonight was different, that tonight was not his usual call for comfort. He had been nervous, when he had asked you if you wanted to come back to his place after work, and he had never been nervous around you before.

Now you stood in his living room, your shoes kicked off next to the door, just like his, your jacket on the coatrack, half covered by his. Usually you had no trouble to make yourself at home, but Spencer’s behaviour, his nervousness, made you feel like this was the very first time you had stepped into his flat, so you stood in the living room, fiddling with your fingers, while Spencer was searching for something in his bedroom.

When he emerged back into the living room, he tossed you something, which you barely caught. Confused you turned a coin in your hands, the dim light not allowing you to read the lettering immediately, but then you made it out.

“10 years?”

You held up the coin to take an even closer look, but other than that, and a small symbol, you could not find anything else edged into it.

“Is that a sobriety coin,” you asked, handing it back to Spencer, who took the coin back and let it wander through his fingers.

“It is,” he nodded, letting the coin disappear into seemingly thin air, presenting his empty palms to you before he sat down on the sofa.

You tried thinking back to ten years ago, and what had happened back then. Somewhat over eleven years ago Hankle had kidnapped him-

Spencer seemed to have interpreted your focused expression correctly, because without further prompting he explained.

“Dilaudid. Hankel injected me with it repeatedly. I- I developed an addiction.”

For a long while you looked at him as he was fiddling around with the coin again. You had always suspected that there had been a phase soon after the Hankle incident in which something had been off. You had basically lived at his place for half a year, since he had called you every night, asking you to come over. You had never hesitated to do so, your desire to comfort your friend also driven by the worry he might do something stupid. Like give in to an addiction. You should have confronted him about it, should have asked. Actually, you had thought about it, countless times, but always come to the conclusion, that he would only deny everything and shut himself off. You had let him suffer on his own, he had never, until today, felt comfortable enough to tell you about it. Maybe you could have helped him. Maybe-

“Actually, it’s eleven years today,” he suddenly said, and lifted his head to look at you. The coin was, once again, gone. “I just… I wanted to spend today with you, instead of going to a meeting.”

“I-”

The voice died in your throat at Spencer’s soft, lopsided smile, the smile he always gave you when he knew exactly what you were thinking, but also knew it was wrong.

“You think you should have said something back then, don’t you?”

You nodded quietly and watched him lean back into the cushions.

“Would you believe me if I told you that you’re the person, who actually helped me to get clean?”

He chuckled at your furrowed brows and patted the space next to him on the sofa, but you remained standing, rooted in spot. You had no right to sit next to him, to be here in his apartment, to be anywhere near the man you had let down knowingly.

“You left a flyer here once, for the community centre,” Spencer explained.

You remembered the flyer. You had spent hours upon hours looking up drug addiction in law enforcement until you had come across a newly funded self-help group in a new community centre not too far away from his flat. After work you had driven by there and picked up a flyer, which a couple of days later you had put onto Spencer’s table, telling him you were interested in one of the pottery classes, and if he wanted to go with you. The advertisement for the pottery class had been right underneath that for the self-help group and been your boldest attempt at ever confronting him.

“Without that flyer, I never would have had the courage to get help,” Spencer confessed. “Other than you, of course.”

“What did I do,” your voice almost was not loud enough for him to hear, drowned by tears that now also blurred your vision. “I just left you alone, I-”

“You always came when you called,” he explained, “I wanted you over as much as possible so I wouldn’t have time for the next fix. I- well I practically used your compassion to get clean.”

“Why did you never tell me?”

Spencer’s smile slowly died, and he pressed his lips together, a clear sign that he knew the answer but felt uncomfortable sharing it.

After a moment of deafening silence, he answered. “I was scared you’d be disappointed in me.”

“Disappointed? Spencer I could never-”

“It was easier to believe that than to accept the truth, that there really might be a person who would care for me either way, no matter how much I fucked up,” he confessed. “It’s still- I still struggle to accept sometimes that you are always here for me. Like… nobody ever really cared about me, other than my mum, and yet… you’ve been here every time I needed you, for years.”

“Not every time. I should’ve-”

“Every single time. And I just can’t understand why you would do that to yourself.”

“Because you’re my friend, Spencer. And I wanted to help you. Just like you helped me, too, when I needed help.”

“When did I help you?”

“You were the first one to check in on me whenever I had to shoot someone. You always make soup when I’m sick, you come over when I have nightmares, or am just lonely. You take me out to movies when I whine about not having a social life, you read me to sleep, sometimes for hours. Do you even realise how much you helped me all these years? Without you I would’ve quit the BAU a long time ago, but with you I can face the demons.”

Spencer looked at you, really looked at you. The soft orange light of the reading lamp beside the couch made his brown eyes glow like ambers. Neither of you turned away, just blinked occasionally. You wanted to tell him, then and there, that you loved him, that you had loved him for years, but you figured that there were some truths your friendship could not withstand. Maybe Spencer had felt that way about his addiction the whole time too. You wondered if there would ever be a time where you could tell him ‘hey Spencer, actually back then, I was totally in love with you and thought I’d spent the rest of my life with you’, and then you’d laugh about it. You blinked the thought away.

“Why did you tell me now,” you wondered, being the first to break the silence.

“I figured, after eleven years, it’s time to tell someone. So tonight I’m showing you my cards.”

“Cards? Plural?”

“There is one more thing.” Spencer got up from where he had been sitting on the couch, but did not step closer while your thoughts were reeling.

One more thing. Another secret he had never told you. Had he been diagnosed with schizophrenia? No, statistically he was too old for that. Dementia? His mother had it, and sometimes even young people got diagnosed with it. No, probably not, you would have noticed. Was he leaving the BAU? Did he have cancer?

“Whatever world ending scenarios you’re coming up with right now, it’s none of that, I promise you,” he spoke quietly. You hated how well he knew you. Well, not hated, but.. well.

“Is it bad,” you asked, watching how he started fiddling around with his hands again. He suddenly got nervous.

“I don’t know,” he answered, his voice a little higher than before. “It depends, I guess.”

“On what?”

“You.” His answer made your heart sink. “But things will be different, no matter what.”

“I don’t want things to be different,” you shook your head, silent panic rising in your chest. “I like the way things are now.” Quickly you took a few steps across the living room right to him and grabbed one of his hands. “I don’t want things to change!”

“And I don’t want to keep secrets, so please let me be honest.”

For a moment you looked at him, at his beautiful brown eyes, which had brought you comfort for so many years, at his wild, brown curls, at his dress shirt and the loosened tie, and the soft cardigan, and then his eyes again. If you allowed him to speak, you might lose everything you had had with him. He had been your anchor, long before you had developed feelings for him, but now that you had, you wanted to fight, so you did not have to give him up.

But he was his own person. Earlier or later, he would tell you. And he had said whether that secret was bad or not depended on you, so you needed to be ready to accept what he was about to tell you, just like that time your high school crush had confessed to you that he was gay and you had ended up with setting him up with his crush. They were married now. So, whatever it was-

Slowly you nodded, and Spencer’s previously tense features softened slightly. His eyes skipped over your face, making you feel strange self-aware, and his fingers tightened around yours, from where you had taken his hand; a comforting squeeze. Carefully he shuffled closer and bent down. For a moment you thought he might kiss you, but of course he would not do that. Yet he did not lean to your ear either. He just looked at you for a moment, making you hold your breath.

“I’m in love with you,” he whispered, his breath fanning over your lips hotly, “That’s my last secret. I’m in love with you and have been for the past three years. What you do with that information is now up to you.”

For a moment you did not move, did not dare moving, just stared at him with your heart hammering in your chest. You were an excellent profiler, had studied human behaviour for soon 20 years, had learnt to recognise what lying looked like. Spencer was not lying. Maybe you were dreaming, but even then-

A flicker of your eyes to his lips was all it took for Spencer to lurch forward and close the remaining distance between your lips. He was not gentle as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you in, but rather desperate, desperate to finally feel you as close as he had always dreamt of, desperate to taste your lips and feel your breath. Hoping to find anything to hold onto, you wrapped your arms around him too, slid one hand into his fine locks, the other gripping tightly into his soft cardigan.

Kissing him was nothing like you had imagined it to be, but so much better. He was careful and yet demanding, and he slipped his tongue over your lips and into your mouth, gentle but unrelenting in the way he held you, walked you back to the couch, where he slowly lowered you down, before sitting down next to you, never breaking the kiss. Faintly you felt his heartbeat in his lips and under his skin, hammering hard, testimony of how much he had wanted this. And with each touch of his, your own guilt over the feelings you had developed for him slowly melted away and left nothing but hot, searing love in its path.

Only when you were out of breath, lips red and swollen, cheeks hot, did you pull away, gently shoved against Spencer’s chest, who was still trying to chase your lips. His eyes were wide and glassy as he finally met yours, still completely entranced, and yet confused as to why you had pulled away.

“Enough,” you commanded with shivering voice and a smile on your face, “enough, I need air.”

“Oh,” Spencer mumbled, and you could pinpoint the exact moment he started building up his walls, already searching for an excuse to explain what just had happened.

Not wanting to allow this, you quickly grabbed his face in your hands, and forced him to look at you. His cheeks were hot, and his eyes danced around uncertainly, before finally resting on yours.

“I’m in love with you too,” you whispered, and leant forward to peck his lips, before quickly hiding your face against his neck. You barely saw his look of doubt turn into that of surprise before a smile took over his face.

“Oh,” he repeated, and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer against his chest. He smelled divine. Like safety, like home.

“Can we just stay like this forever,” you asked, you voice muffled against his skin.

“Actually-” from his tone of voice you could tell he would doubtlessly tell you how long it would either of you approximately take, until one of you needed the bathroom or something to eat, but then he stopped himself. “Yes.”

You chuckled against his neck, causing a shiver to run through him and goosebumps to rise on his arms. Gently you brushed your lips against his skin, not getting enough of how soft it felt. Forever was probably not long enough.

You had been colleagues with Spencer for 13 years, his best friend for 12. But from tonight on you also were his lover.

[aisclosed]

the art of purrsuasion - y. jungwon

jungwon has the purrfect solution for your unfurtunate situation

PAIRING: non idol! y. jungwon x reader GENRE: university au , fluff, friends to lovers | WORDCOUNT: 3.9 k WARNINGS: mild language? nothing rlly

Birthday Café Event! 

Jungwon blinks at the sign hanging over the door to his favorite café, willing the mirage to change before his eyes. Not that it would do much considering the walls plastered with large posters of some k-pop idol in various poses, accompanied by balloons and streamers hanging obnoxiously from the ceiling. 

The once cozy shop, tucked away in a less traveled street near his classes, had become a constant in his weekly routine. He found comfort in the quaint tables, the soft notes of music and the aroma of fresh baked goods flooding his senses as he grinded through his work. And yet, the café was betraying him now, the bustling crowd of fans indicating that today, his favorite latte and croissant wouldn't be there to soothe the sting of a 5 page requirement. 

“Jungwon!” a voice calls in greeting, and he whips around to meet your eyes, catching your quickly falling expression as you take in the packed café. “Woah…what the hell is going on?”

You were another new constant in his life, ever since the first day of the semester. You had stumbled into class late, your hair whipping wildly around you as you quickly slid into the nearest available seat. Luckily for Jungwon, it just so happened to be the seat next to his own. He had slid his notes over to you, receiving a grateful beam in return that had his stomach churning and his cheeks heating. 

That same seat was occupied by you the next day, and the day after that, and the next. Until, sometime between the muffled snorts at your professor’s sad attempts at jokes and whispered, “what the fuck does that even mean’s, the pair of you had become friends. 

Jungwon was all for trying new things, but what he craved was stability, playing by the rules, routine. You were the opposite, a whirlwind of a person coming into his life with all the force of a hurricane.

Instead of putting up his walls to maintain some semblance of security, Jungwon found himself swept away by your gusts of change, and happily so. Where he once had to drag himself out of bed, fighting the urge to skip his 8am lecture, he now woke even before his alarm had a chance to ring. You were his new routine. Every Monday, Wednesday and Friday he would rush to get to class to see you, and every Tuesday and Thursday he would count the minutes until he could see you again. 

In a stroke of genius and a slight desperation to see you more often, Jungwon had suggested study dates sessions. You had regarded him with a smile tugging at the corner of your lips and mirth dancing in your eyes. Heat had licked at the apples of his cheeks and he had begun to stutter out an excuse when you had cut him off “Yeah, I’d like that, text me when and where.”

And so, another piece of you slotted into Jungwon’s schedule, study sessions at the café whenever the two of you could squeeze one in. Maybe the two of you had slight ulterior motives but your grades weren’t complaining and you certainly weren't either. Jungwon much preferred your “dates” to class time. It was the only time he could listen to you freely ramble about everything, from your kitten Dalgona to your frustrations, without the sharp glare your professor was privy to shooting at him. 

Now, it's been a particularly challenging week, with never ending assignments, a frustrating project and a three hour long lab on top of it all. Jungwon really needs this. Jungwon really needs you. 

You can almost visualize a darkening cloud thundering over Jungwon’s head as he shoots daggers at the café. Letting out a laugh, you bump your hip against his to grab his attention, “Hey it’s alright, we can find somewhere else to study, no need to commit arson.” 

Jungwon tilts his head inquisitively, “Yeah, but where? They’re doing construction by the Library Annex and the Main Library is across campus. We don’t have many options besides the big cafes but those are just as busy.” 

“My dorm is like five minutes away and my roomie’s gone home for the week,” you offer, Jungwon’s eyes widening comically in response. “Unlessssss, you want to stay at this café? Who knows, maybe you’ll get scouted by some big shot k-pop company. Get some fans of your own,” you tease. 

Jungwon scoffs, pushing you lightly as his cheeks flush with color. “As if. Alright, if you’re sure it won’t be an inconvenience let’s go to yours.” Beaming in satisfaction, you tug at his hoodie sleeve, leading him towards the direction of your dorm. 

He admires you silently, the way your hair bounces slightly with each step and the swift glances you give when you think he’s not looking. As if you think he might get lost despite the firm grip you have on the fabric of his sleeve. For a second Jungwon considers shifting his arm slightly to just interlock his fingers with yours, but before he can, you’ve come to a halt, looking at him in horror. 

“Wait! I forgot all about your cat allergy, will you be okay with Dalgona there? Maybe we should just look for another place?” you ask, your eyes round with worry. Jungwon looks down at you, trying his best to stop from melting at your cute expression. 

He shakes his head softly in denial, “My allergy isn’t that severe, I think I can handle a couple hours. Plus I’ve been wanting to meet Dalgona for ages anyways.” Jungwon gestures for you to continue leading the way but you merely squint at him skeptically. Huffing in false exasperation he takes your hand in his, pulling you forward. “Come on, I’ll be fine. I mean it.” 

Your pupils dilate at the action, flickering to where your hands are now joined. A wave of embarrassment washes over Jungwon and he laughs awkwardly, hurriedly trying to release his hold on your hand. 

Before he can, you’ve already interlocked your fingers with his own, holding onto him firmly as you begin continuing your journey to your dorm. For a second, Jungwon allows himself to be tugged along like a rag doll after you. 

Even from behind he can see the slight blush on your ears and cheeks as you desperately try to maintain your composure. The wind tousles your hair gently, pushing the strands back to reveal your features illuminated softly by the sunlight. Jungwon feels as if the air has just been stolen out of his lungs and he thinks that if it meant he got to see this view, he would gladly follow you to the ends of the Earth. 

It's not until the pair of you have reached your building and are waiting for the elevator, hands still linked, that something odd occurs to Jungwon. Glancing at the receptionist across the lobby, he leans down to whisper into the shell of your ear. “Y/N,” you startle at the feeling of his breath against your skin, looking up at him inquisitively, “Aren’t pets prohibited in student housing? Unless it's a service animal.”

You glance worriedly at the receptionist, signaling to Jungwon to wait for your answer. The elevator door opens with a chime and you hurry in, pulling Jungwon with you. 

It's only when the door shuts securely that you begin whispering conspiratorially, “Ok, yes technically Dalgona isn't allowed to be here. But I'm working on getting him written off as an emotional support companion. You don't understand, I need him,” you pout at Jungwon pleadingly.

“Alright,” Jungwon chuckles, swinging your hands together as you exit the elevator, coming to a stop in front of your room, “It’s not like I was gonna report you, I just don't want you getting into any trouble with housing.”

“It should be fine honestly, Dalgona is a really sweet kitty, he doesn't get into much trouble. The only real issue is my RA Renjun,” you gesture at the floor monitor's door down the hall, fit with a shiny plaque and complaints box. “He’s really nice though, he’s just a bit of a stickler for the rules. Which is his whole job so I don’t really have much place to complain.” 

You come to a stop in front of your door, shifting to grab the keys from your bag. Jungwon reluctantly releases your hand and you finally fish out your keys, opening the door and leading him in. “He’s been pretty close to catching me, sometimes Dalgona meows really loudly near the door and Renjun knocks. I just act like I’m not here and he gives up. I’ve been avoiding him like the plague,” you giggle and Jungwon shakes his head in exasperation. 

Jungwon takes in his surroundings while you set down your bag and fiddle with your speaker until Wave to Earth plays quietly in the background. Your room is cute, a large bed equipped with a fluffy duvet and numerous plushies pushed to one corner, and walls and shelves littered with albums, trinkets and plants. On your pillow sits a small calico kitten, his stare trained on the unfamiliar figure in his territory. Suddenly Jungwon’s caught in an intense stare off, sharp green eyes meet rounded brown eyes, both unwilling to be the first to break away. 

The tension is shattered when you suddenly chuckle at the scene, “What are you two doing honestly,” you giggle, scooping up Dalgona into your arms. “I’ve always agreed you were cat-like Wonnie, but I didn’t expect to see this feline face off,” you walk over to Jungwon, lifting Dalgona slightly, “Say hi to Jungwon baby,” you coo softly. 

Jungwon offers his fingers for Dalgona to sniff and he does so tentatively, before deeming the new intruder acceptable and nuzzling into his palm. “He likes you!” you squeal happily, looking up to find Jungwon already looking at you with a soft smile. Suddenly you’re all too aware of the lack of distance between your faces, the way his broad stature looms over you and the way his eyes draw you in.

 Laughing nervously, you stumble back, nearly tripping on your rug as you try to regain some semblance of normalcy. “Woah, careful,” Jungwon steadies you, his hand resting against the small of your back. 

“Thanks,” you breathe out, Dalgona leaps out of your arms with a meow, affronted by your jolts. The movement snaps the two of you out of your daze and you clear your throat awkwardly and step away from him. “You wanna get started on the review outline?” You gather your laptop and notebooks, settling onto your bed and beckoning Jungwon to come join you. 

Jungwon nods stiffly, and sits gingerly at the edge of your bed despite there being ample space for him to scoot closer. It's silent, an uncomfortable tension that you’ve never experienced with him stifling the air. Jungwon leans in slightly from his position, struggling to read the notes on the screen and you meet eyes.

You're blinking owlishly at each other when suddenly you both break into laughter, Jungwon doubling over until he's laying flat on the bed, right next to you. “What's wrong with us today?” you wheeze, wiping a stray tear from the force of your laughs. 

“I have no clue,” Jungwon smiled sheepishly, “We’re just being a little silly, I don't know why it’s so awkward. Maybe it's the new setting that's throwing us off.” You roll back into your back, mimicking Jungwon’s position until you're looking back into his eyes.

“Yeah maybe it is, we really should get to working though, this assignment is gonna kill us if we push it off any longer,” you grumble shifting back to look at the papers. Jungwon nods in agreement, and this time the silence that settles is warm, accompanied only by the faint sounds of music and Dalgona playing with his toys. 

It's hours later and Jungwon’s eyes have started to sting, the letters and words all blurring together. He lets out a sigh, throwing his head back dramatically to rest against your shoulder. You look at him in amusement, knocking your head against his playfully, “Am I losing you to the deathly grips of literary analysis Wonnie?”

Jungwon only groans in response, burying his face deeper into the crook of your neck. Absentmindedly, he thinks that you smell good, warm and slightly sweet, nothing like the scents that usually overpower his sensitive nose. It's kind of intoxicating, like the smell of fresh baked treats at the café, and Jungwon finds himself inhaling you subconsciously.

“Jungwon… did you just sniff me?” 

He halts, a prickling heat crawling up his neck, “No?” Jungwon denies meekly, unwilling to lift his head up.

“Oh my god you were sniffing me!” you giggle gleefully, “I don't think you can get any closer to being an actual cat Won, what's next will you meow for me?” Jungwon releases a sound of indignation, backing to splutter a series of denials, when Dalgona starts meowing rather loudly near the door. 

Immediately you shoot up from the bed, “Baby! Please don’t.” You grab his favorite toy on the way picking him up and trying best to mollify whatever was bothering him. 

There's a loud knocking on the door. You freeze, looking in horror at Jungwon who stares back, equally helpless.

“Y/N! It's Renjun!” you scrunch your face in panic, cursing your luck. “Come on, Y/N you can’t act like you're not here this time, I literally just heard your voice in there. Open up or I’m going to have to get the building supervisor and really don’t want to have to do that.”

“Oh my god,” you whimper, quickly placing Dalgona in your bathroom, equipped with toys and a mat to hopefully keep him occupied while you figure out how to save your academic life. You shut the door as quietly as you can and Jungwon walks over, rubbing soothing circles into your hip. 

“Don’t worry we’ll come up with something,” Jungwon whispers comfortingly, but you’re not sure he believes it himself. You smooth your hair, plastering on your most disarming smile and swing the door open.

Renjun’s stood with his hand hovering over the air, clearly poised to knock again. “Heyyyyy Renjun Oppa, it's been a while. I never see you anymore, I almost thought you were avoiding me,” you say brightly, hoping he doesn't see right through your ploy. The hand Jungwon has still resting on your waist tightens just a fraction at your words, before returning again to its ministrations. 

“Uh huh I’m sure you did Y/N,” Renjun says dryly, “Can I come in, we need to talk.” Your smile stiffens but you simply nod, inviting him in. He walks in, giving Jungwon a nod in greeting, Renjun doesn't say anything but you don’t miss the way his eyes scour the place, looking for any sign of an prohibited presence. 

With a sigh he pivots and turns to you, “Look Y/N I’m sorry to do this when you have company but you know what this is about. I keep hearing meowing from your room and you know pets are against policy. As much as I want to make an exception for you, I can’t. I don't want to get you in any trouble but I will have to file an official report for this.”

Tears prickle at the corner of your eyes as you begin to plead with him, “Wait Renjun please I can explain-”

“It was me.”

Both you and Renjun turn in unison to look at Jungwon incredulously. His cheeks are slightly flushed but his brow is set with determination. “The meowing, it was me.”

“Jungwon, stop you don't have to do this-,” you start but he waves you off, stepping in front of Renjun.

“I, uh get compared to a cat a lot,” Jungwon gestures at his face shyly but Renjun only stares blankly in response. “So I kind of have this habit of meowing, and Y/N finds it cute so I was just doing it to impress her. She just didn't open the door for you before because she wanted to save me from the humiliation.”

At this point you’ve faded into the background, hand clamped in disbelief over your mouth as your eyes dart furiously back and forth between Renjun and Jungwon. 

Renjun narrows his eyes, assessing Jungwon fully.

“You do look like a cat, I'll give you that, but you truly honestly expect me to believe that all this time the meowing I've heard from this room has been you and Y/N doing some weird kinky furry shit.”

“I do not have a furry kink,” you protest fervently but are silenced by both guys shooting you a sharp glare, one that clearly says keep quiet. 

“It's really not a kink,” Jungwon mumbles before meeting Renjun’s eyes defiantly, “But yes, that's the truth.”

Renjun scoffs in disbelief at the situation, crossing his arms across his chest. “Alright then, prove it.”

“Okay come on, that's too far, Jungwon you don’t-”

“Alright I will,” Jungwon cuts you off brazenly, clearing his throat before releasing a set of meows that sound almost entirely too similar to your kitten’s. Your jaw unhinges and you let out a strangled noise, you’re unsure whether to laugh, cry, or coo at Jungwon. His cheeks are now a bright pink, his hands instinctively coming up to make a claws, his sweater forming cute paws to accompany the image. It's all too cute, and he's doing it all for you, if Renjun doesn’t kick you out first you think you might melt into a puddle on the dormitory floor. 

Renjun sighs, pinching his nose bridge before letting his hand drag down his face. “You know what I give up. I can’t afford to be sitting here dissecting whether you guys are actually furries or not. I have an exam coming. Y/N I don't want either of us getting in trouble so if you are hiding a pet, please resolve the issue, or at least find a way to be more discreet.”

You nod feverously, thanking Renjun for not filing a report and basically pushing him out the door. He’s just crossed the threshold when Dalgona lets out a very untimely meow from the bathroom. Renjun freezes, swiveling around to question you further but Jungwon quickly intercepts, “Just saying bye, Renjun hyung!” 

Renjun looks as if he’s aged 5 years by the end of your interaction and so he surrenders with a grimace, giving a half hearted wave and walking towards his room. Jungwon and you wait with air lodged in your throats, ears pressed against the wood door until you hear the faint creak and click of Renjun’s room closing with finality.

You face each other, giving a simultaneous cheer of celebration before you jump onto Jungwon. He accepts your hug with open arms, lifting you and spinning you around in utter delight. The rush of adrenaline settles into a lingering flutter, and Jungwon sways you gently from side to side in his embrace. 

You're still nuzzled into the soft fabric of his hoodie, when you mumble, “I can’t believe you actually did that. And that it worked. Yang Jungwon, I could quite literally kiss you right now.” 

“Maybe you should,” he whispers so faintly, that for a second you question whether you even heard it at all. It isn't until Jungwon’s hand finds your chin, tilting it up to face him and his thumb swipes gently against your parted lips that you realize it's real.

It's with baited breath that you wait, painstakingly, for Jungwon to make a move. “What do you think hm Y/N?” he asks you with a smirk settled onto his face, “Don’t I deserve a kiss baby?” Instead, Jungwon’s rolled the ball back into your court, the decision is yours to make, and there's really never been any other choice. Not with him. Not for you.

You lean in and he meets you halfway, nose brushing against your cheek as he presses a soft kiss against your lips. Jungwon pulls back to look at your expression, the way your breath is stuttered, your flushed cheeks and your widened pupils. 

“I’ve been wanting this for so long,” Jungwon mumbles against your lips, capturing them in a proper kiss. The phrase makes your head reel with thoughts, but it's too difficult to try and dissect what he means when his fingers are buried into your hair and he tastes so good on your tongue. 

You don't break away until your lungs are burning, parting with a gasp. For a moment you both stare at each other, watching the rise and fall of your chests, not sure what to make of what just occurred, not sure what comes after. Jungwon’s suddenly filled with humiliation at the memory of earlier and he buries his face into the crook of your neck. “I can’t believe it took me meowing to finally confess to you,” he whines softly.

You let out a sharp guffaw, the tremors of your giggles shaking Jungwon’s head. He turns to look at you from his position, pouting playfully at being the subject of your glee. “Was that really a confession, Wonnie? All you did was ask me for a kiss,” you tease as you brush his bangs away from his eyes. 

He takes your teasing challenge in stride, straightening to look at you properly, his hands resting on your hips. “I like you Y/N. A lot. You're all I think about and all I look forward to being with. You’ve completely wrecked my schedule, my life and my dignity. Not only have I meowed for you but I'd even go as far as to bark,” he jokes, pinching your waist as you swat at him playfully.

“I know you’ve already got your hands full with one kitty in your life,” Jungwon continues smiling fondly, “but if you’ll have me I’d love to be the second.”

Your face might split from the smile you give him, eyes curling up cutely into crescents. “I like you too, Yang Jungwon. A lot. Honestly, I don't even like coffee, so if I can bear drinking those nasty drinks for you, I definitely think I can handle another kitty. Especially one as cute as you.”

Jungwon beams at the compliment, grabbing your cheeks gently to peck your face all over, when a rather loud meow resonates from the bathroom. 

“Dalgona!” You gasp in panic, breaking away from Jungwon to gather your kitty, checking to make sure he’s okay. Jungwon leans against the door frame watching you coddle Dalgona, giving the feline the kisses that were supposed to be his. He scoffs at the smug look Dalgona shoots him at having received all your attention.

You look up at the sound, smiling at the envy painted so clearly on Jungwon’s face. Leaving Dalgona to roam on his own, you cup Jungwon’s cheeks allowing him to lean into your palm. “What’s it take for a guy to get some affection from his girl around here,” Jungwon sighs theatrically in false annoyance.

A laugh escapes you, and you tug Jungwon forward by the fabric of his jacket until he’s flush against your body, his lips a millimeter distance. “You’ll figure it out, I find you can be rather purrsuasive when you need to be.

a/n: overwrote again,,, but this was inspired by @alouettesque 's promptlist ! hope u guys enjoyed it :)

getting back into writing regularly so send an ask or fill out the form to be added to my taglist! see u guys soon mwah

perm taglist: @hoonsunivrs @pkjay @thatfeelinwhenyou @lacimolela @ttalgi @cieluna @ahnneyong @luvlee1313 @meowmeowhoon @llama-lyna @dmoki @w3bqrl @16doie @itsvynnie @tniastwon @given8taken @yakjw @miukityy @meowwonie @simp4jakesim @teddywons @flowertothejungwon @skywithf1 @yur1a1 @nyeonglover @fallingenluvv @run2seob

*if you changed ur @ pls send in another submission :(

[goldfades]

Okay, so I’ve actually been thinking about this non-stop, but I’m no writer, so you’ll have to bear with me: Manager y/n, who is doing ‘research’ for the Paige edits, gets super into TikTok for like a week before they have to cut themselves off.

And during this week, they’re not just watching videos – no, they’re posting them. I’m talking like 5 a day MINIMUM. It all starts when they see the “who’s afraid of little old me” sound is trending and promptly post a slideshow, beginning with a soft, smile-filled picture of them with the team before “you should be” is sung out, and it cuts to a like 10-second compilation they had seen of them and the team screaming at refs or just looking super pissed off on the sidelines (as others have mentioned, the rbf is no joke).

Fans, of course, go crazy because, omg they’re posting on their account now? (It’s chalked up to KK’s influence.) And when their first video blows up, Manager y/n is officially hooked.

After seeing Paige’s Tru Fru video, they use the song to make an edit of them and the team using mostly unseen pictures and videos from the Europe trip to “I was over love and I’d had enough ‘till I found you”. It’s just so painfully sweet and a little bit sappy; people love it.

Things take a dramatic turn, though, when they discover thirst traps. NOW, they only post one, but one is enough to send people spiraling. “That’s my playpen, borderline thinking like Barbie.”

Lives are lost that day.

And the team’s reaction? Let's just say they've never hit the repost button faster. Paige has it saved and favorited in her camera roll, but you didn’t hear that from me.

“Now I’m down bad, crying at the gym” is posted to a video from when they tried to do the team’s conditioning day with them, and things didn’t go well. Manager y/n is strong, but this is a whole other level; they don’t even make it past the first hour before tears are shed. The whole team finds it hilarious (and it is).

KK gets them into dances too; there’s at least three posted to “Get it sexyy” before the day is done. And there’s soooo much more. “There must have been an angel by my side” is posted with Ice and Azzi. A “You know how to ball, I know Aristotle” ‘fit check with Paige goes triple platinum on the platform. And there are a perhaps unreasonable number of videos posted to “make her disappear just like poof, then she’s gone, addicted don’t know what the fuck I’m on” from a particularly fun night out (they had to take frantically down half of them when they woke up, but we won’t talk about that).

But perhaps the true pièce de résistance is ‘Man eater’. It was supposed to just be a ‘fit check after they got particularly dressed up for a team dinner/fundraiser but simply put, the people couldn’t take it. It took less than an hour for edits to start rolling in, and when some multiple people in their classes the next day (INCLUDING THEIR FAVORITE PROFESSOR) tells them they saw it , Manager y/n decided to take a step back (they can handle online attention, but in person is a whole different ball game).

After all, “we can’t have too many celebrities on this team.”

Last notes: This brief deep dive does dramatically affect the quality of the edits they make though; there was just so much inspiration to be taken (for research purposes only of course). 2 weeks after they stop posting on their personal account, a Paige and Nika hype edit to ‘Carnival’ is posted on the UConn page. They almost get in trouble for it, but they gain a couple of thousand followers and it quickly becomes the most liked video on their page. And who’s going to get mad at someone for what turns out to be a stroke of marketing genius (explicit lyrics be damned)?

THIS IS NOW MY FAV THING EVERTRR CUS YOURE SO SO SO RIGHT, i love the way u think nonnie

absolutely, and i feel like after the week is over she’s on the same level as paige — there are fan edits EVERYWHERE and manager is getting so much attention from everyone (ofc she doesn’t mind tho)

when she stops posting as much as she used to i can def see everyone begging for scraps 😭😭 they reuse the same 10 clips they have and the scraps they can find up until queen y/n posts again 😭😭

pls send more thoughts this was so much reading through it!

[siconetribal]

Put It On My Tab: Chapter 8

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!reader

Tag: @vbecker10 @wordsfromshona @harlequin-hangout @harpy-space @tild3ath @gone-batty-fics @princessbl0ss0m @dakotali

Warning: Epiphanies, violence, crime fighting, and staffing issues

Summary:

Everyone deserves time off, and the vigilantes of Gotham are no exception to the rule. The boys decide to take a weekend to let loose. Who knew a few drinks would lead to a stranger in bed?

Author Note:

Sorry about the delay, I wasn't sure on where to go with the story for some time, and health problems started popping up more and more. Things are still hectic, but hopefully manageable.

Personal matters aside, I hope you all continue to enjoy. Thank you for all your support always.

A big shout-out to my friend who is a manager of a facility much like Citlalli. How you handle the various incidents that you do with such grace is inspiring.

A huge thank you and shout out to @harlequin-hangout for the amazing banners you made for me.

If you’re new to the story, here is a link to the other parts:

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7

It was moments like these that reminded him of the benefits of wearing his red helmet. The contents of his head remained intact and inside his skull at all times..

  Holy shit, she was the barista at the counter! Red Hood quickly got back up onto his feet, bobbing to dodge a hook before grabbing the bigger guy's sleeve, yanking the guy forward to grab his head. A sickening crunch followed by a cry of pain was satisfaction to the vigilante’s ears. The lumbering giant fell to his knees, holding his face. “It wasn’t that bad,” he scoffed, waiting for his opponent to get back up. The clang of metal was all he heard before watching the crook fall face-first into the pavement. “Now that, that would be pretty bad.” He shrugged, looking up at Nightwing. “You know I had him, right?”

“Is that what you call being plowed into a brick wall? I swear, the lingo of the youth these days.” The elder Robin ran a gloved hand through his hair, looking down at the unconscious bodies littered around. “Two, four, I think that’s all of them.” He nudged his foot into the one on his right, watching the body roll over. 

“Looks like it. Now we just gotta wrap ‘em up and drop ‘em off for the cops.” Red Hood motioned towards the street with his head. “I guess today wasn’t a total waste.” He muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. Dammit, I can’t believe I didn’t notice it sooner! This could’ve all been nicely packed and solved, stupid, stupid, stupid! He berated himself as they dragged the culprits to one of the nearby working lamp posts, tying them up. Clearly finding some Jane Doe of Gotham was not as easy as he thought, especially when he looked right at her and failed to realize it. His pride as a detective was bruised to a point that he was not sure if it would ever be restored. No way in hell I’m telling Grayson about that, I’ll really never hear the end of it. He glared at the guy with the broken nose. Once again, he was grateful that he wore a red helmet instead of a domino mask. His red cheeks and peeved expression was hidden to all except for himself as the two wrapped up for the evening.

Y/N lay crumpled and slouched on the old sofa of their apartment, exhausted and defeated. How many weeks had it been since all this started? How many more were left? She had just paid the first installment of the bill, a glorious moment, until she saw the damage to her bank account.

Life’s not fair, I get it, but this is cruel and unusual! She sighed for the umpteenth time, sinking into the old cushions a little deeper. He had to have noticed her, there was no way her attempts at anonymity were successful. Not to mention, he literally caught me falling! Ah, then there’s the stroke of genius Cici had. Really, a victim of Joker laughing gas?  Now he’s really going to think I’m insane and refuse to pay! Then again, maybe he’ll pity me enough and actually pay? He did leave a sizable tip between the two of us. She forced herself to sit up straight and crossed her legs.

“No, get it together! You need to talk to him and explain the situation. I’m sure we can come to a reasonable conclusion through proper discourse! We’re both adults, and he clearly has a savior/hero complex because he did help me at the bar. I’m sure he can be reasoned with when he’s not inebriated or asking a billion questions.” She nodded to herself. “The real issue is how do I find him and prove I’m not some nut case?” Her pursed lips slid side to side as she tried to figure out a method to meet up with him again.

Citlalli had suggested she just turn up at Wayne manor or Wayne Enterprises. It was a tempting option, but with her luck, Y/N had a feeling she was going to be labeled as the new arm candy of the billionaire playboy and that was nothing but trouble. The last thing either of them needed was a horde of paparazzi hounding them or breaking into their rickety apartment and potentially breaking whatever they got their hands on.

Was Bruce Wayne handsome? Yes, there was no denying that. But handsome hardly scratched the “worth it” surface. Just look at where she was stuck now thanks to one of his adopted children. No, good looks did not make things worth it, like Citlalli always said. It only made matters worse. “And triple-y so when a Wayne was involved.” She muttered. “What if he never returns to the coffee shop? It’s been a whole month since then and nada!” She threw her hands up in frustration and slouched on the couch once more. “Doesn’t help that Arkham_Knight has been MIA, too! None of the quests are as fun without him. But he did say he’s going to be out of town or something about no gaming access. I wonder if kicking Wonder Boy’s butt is still on the table if he knew who he was.” It was so very tempting to just give in to the siren call, but she knew better than that. For starters, it would ruin the dynamic between the two of them and one or both of them would end up in jail for attacking a trust fund kid like him.

Her thoughts were broken by the clatter of her phone vibrating on the coffee table. Grabbing the device, she hit the green button on the outdated device. “Hey Cici, what’s up?”

“Hey chica, where are you right now?” 

“At the apartment, sprouting on the couch like a potato, why?”

“Can you help me out, pretty please?” Y/N could hear the batting of her lashes through the phone.

“Hmmm, I dunno, I do have a pretty tight schedule between germination, wallowing in my financial crater, and staring out into the darkness.” Y/N tucked the phone between her shoulder and ear as she made her way into the kitchen. “What’s up?”

“Oh, woe is you, so busy.” Citlalli scoffed. “Anyway, I really need your help! I just got word that Ryan had asked Stacy to cover his shift and she agreed. Neither of them confirmed that he would be taking up her shift today, and he's saying that he asked her but never agreed to pick up from her. Yes, it's stupid, and I’m going to have to sit these over privileged brats down and explain to them how swapping shifts work again. But, that's not the point! I need someone in today and I thought you may want to pick up some hours to save up faster. Are you able to?”

“Yeah, ok, I’ll head in. Thanks for the chance, I really appreciate it. You don’t worry your little curly head about this and just enjoy the weekend away with your family. Send me any open shifts, and I’ll cover where I can, cool?”

“Miha, you’re a lifesaver! Thank you so much!” Citllali quickly dissolved into heaps of praises and prayers in Spanish out of sheer relief before she finally hung up the call and texted the information.

Another Saturday night shift left unmanned because why would they honor the hours they said they'd work? Not like I can complain though, I’m hitting overtime now and that means more money for me to get these payments over with. She made her way down the narrow hallway to her bedroom, quickly getting changed into a simple black tee and jeans, with the café apron tucked away into her backpack as she locked up behind herself. 

The shift had started out busy, the store filled with students and professionals burning the night oil fueled by caffeine and pastries. But as the hours slowly ticked by, the number of in-store customers dwindled down alongside the drive-thru patrons. The moon was now up in place of the sun, and no one really dared to be out too late in this part of Gotham. Only the foolish and desperate, like herself, remained at work because the company insisted on a 24-hour shop to help spruce the town.

Did she want to be out here at night? No. Was being at home in the apartment alone any better? No. At least there was surveillance here. Any trouble that could happen would be recording, and she would be safe, sort of. Shrugging off self-preservation, Y/N began to sweep the floors to pass the time. It was better than standing at the counter waiting for no one to come in. It was another dead night, nothing serious was going to happen.

[minimarvelh]

It was Friday, so that meant only one thing: movie night!

They set up on the Avengers floor, Nat brought everyone popcorn while Clint and Sam fought for a spot in the middle. (like always)

Peter didn't care about the spot , he was going to lie down where Tony sat with his head on his lap as the man will gently stroke his hair. It was their routine and he fucking LOVE it.

Tony always chose a place in the corner - he didn't care if someone was looking at them, but he wanted some privacy, cherishing their moments of affection and didn't have desire to share them, especially not in front of everyone in the room. Was he jealous? He didn’t know but hey, everyone is a bit jealous and has attachment issues, right?

After a few minutes, they finally settled down and their show choice was unsurprisingly Doctor Who.(thanks to Gen Z teen Peter Parker, who is always looking edits on TikTok and sending them to Tony, who is considering his preferences)

While Clint and Nat were discussing something about the movie's collusions, Bruce and Tony were cogently discussing the reality of magical things in the show.

Peter really fought for his life and tried not to fall asleep, feeling that it was quite a strenuous task for his body. He was really tired after his last patrol(three robberies in row I’m sorry???), and besides, it was a Friday night. He really relish this night with the Avengers, but the school managed to get on his nerves in the last 5 days. And Tony's methodical, quiet voice lulled him, forcing to close his eyes.

Peter sighed heavily fighting the sleep Cupid when he felt the ringing vibration of his phone in his left pants pocket. Today, Ned has a family evening, vague remembered Peter, and he wholeheartedly promised his friend to be his life support and be online in case of some emergency. Unfortunately, Ned's parents divorced and the boy was naturally very anxious, so it was very hard for Ned to process all of that. Especially when his parents were fighting, which happened quite very often, especially when they were in the same room. Peter had seen it before and didn't want to see it again, sympathizing with a friend who goes through it more often than he should.

Peter very reluctantly took out his phone, squinting at the harsh light of the screen. On the screen of their chat with Ned, a bright link to the browser was highlighted. He cocked an eyebrow skeptically, for some unknown reason tapping on a link that should never have opened in his browser because it looked too suspicious and maybe it has viruses. But remembering that Ned was a fucking computer genius and wouldn't give his phone viruses…hopefully, maybe thing that Peter did or rather didn’t do, to speak exactly 3 days ago forgotting about their lego evening, was not left behind for Ned and he decided to take revenge with viruses)

"What are your chances of being Tony Stark's son?"

He snorted, immediately covering his mouth, from such a stupidly worded question. Like, the chance of anyone becoming Tony Stark's son is about 0.00001%. Genius loves and protects his personal space too much and even if we assume that one day he will have a kid (because in Peter's not modest opinion, Tony would be a great father), it will be his biological child, not an adopted one. That is, everyone's chances are approximately one to infinity. (although Peter always knew physics poorly and was more into chemistry, so an error in calculations is possible)

It was just an online fan quiz for probably those other geeks and fan nerds who were willing to kiss the ground Tony Stark walks on. (aka Peter)

But the site surprisingly showed interesting statistics with an insane number of views and if they were not just bots, it was really impressive. 101,678 people passed the quiz. Peter was ready to whistle if he was not afraid to get the unnecessary at this situation attention from the Avengers. He weighed all his options, cautiously peeking out from under the phone to see if any of the Avengers were paying attention to him. The observations were comforting: everyone was staring at the screen of TV with strong interest.

Peter just became curious: how well he really fits the role of Tony Stark's son, according to the creators of the test.

In fact, to be really honest, this question had a really long time make Peter worried: from the very moment he began to notice that his relationship with Tony was growing from blind adoration of an idol to adoration of him as a person, as his mentor, as one of the closest people in his life.

Ned knew this, saw Peter's distress and tried to reassure his friend, promising and even swearing to him with all his Lego sets that Tony also saw Peter as his son.

"Lol, he works with you until night doing stupid projects for our school, goes to parent-teacher conferences and builds Legos on the weekends, do you really think he treats every intern or avenger like that?"

"Maybe he just likes building Lego sets" Peter asks uncertainly, wringing his hands in alarmingly energetic way.

"Okay You didn’t give me another choice…I'll have to hack F.R.I.D.A.Y to find footage of Tony building Legos with Steve or Wanda.But I can tell you even without hacking: there won't be any. And I wonder why…"

Thinking about his actions for another second, Peter presses "start".

1. Imagine that you had the opportunity to choose your evening activity (who formulates the question like that?) What would you do with Tony Stark?

Peter noticed how Tony tightened his grip on his hair as if trying to pull him as close to him as possible. Probably something disturbing happened in the series, but he had a more serious question to think about.

Surprising himself, he took this question very earnest, mentally asking himself: "What could we do in the evening with Mr. Stark". There are a lot of answers: from a marathon of Scooby-Do to a hide and seek with dum-e.(don’t judge them, dum-e really deserves to play games too)

Therefore, Peter decided to focus on the answer options presented in the quiz itself.(very awful decision, really)

a) jointly come up with innovations for Stark Industries

b) talk about science

c) order dinner from a restaurant and eat

d) cook dinner yourself and watch the series together

Of all this, Peter was leaned more on the answers b c and d, which they usually combined. Coming up with innovations for Stark Industries was usually done between other engineers and Stark, who then shared ideas with Peter. Because Peter was more into chemistry and biology than physics, he sometimes didn't understand the innermost technologies and found it difficult to develop something genius between patrols and school. That's why Stark usually just brainstormed with Peter.

There was not one perfect answer, but remembering that in fact they always order food from restaurants... After thinking a little more, Peter tapped on this answer, feeling excitement mixed with anxiety.

And what if he does not fit the role of his son?

2. What present would you give Tony for his birthday?

• Phone • Suit • something for the house •

None of this was suitable answer at all: the only thing that came close was something for the house: the old man's penthouse used to be too dark, but now with the help of him and Pepper and the "something for the house" it was much more cozy, 10 blankets and 23 stuffed toys form Star Wars along with 13 vanilla candles obviously did the good job.

Phone..who came up with this test? Giving a phone to the number 1 phone manufacturer in the world?!? Tony has a billion suits. Peter personally preferred when Tony walked in his home clothes (he even a little bit hated suit- it was not the same hugs as in the hoodies - why can't we all go to the meetings or school in pajamas??)

Peter, remembering how Tony promised to buy him a Guinea pig for 4 months anniversary "returning in time after patrol" and wanted to choose some answer like pets but there was any so he stopped at "something for the house" because the question was “for Tony”.

3. "Would you try to pass this test if Tony were not a playboy genius but just an ordinary person?" Yes No

Peter honestly doesn't know…Of course Peter doesn't love Tony for his money, not at all…he loves him for the sense of safeness he constantly feels around him, for the hugs and long deep conversations, for the time they spend together and the warmth that Stark radiates.

He pressed "yes" without the slightest conscience.

The next 10 minutes were spent in serious concentration, pondering over the questions of this stupid test, which for some reason he took too important.

Confidently clicking "yes" on the last, 25th question, the screen crackled and gave him the answer.

"Thank you for passing our quiz, but unfortunately you would not be able to become Tony Stark’s son", Peter accidentally said this out loud in a very tragic voice without noticing it.

“You know you don't have to pass tests to be my son", the man’s serious voice made Peter almost shudder. God, did he really say that out loud? Please bury him somewhere for the rest of his life , he is not ready to face Nat, Cling, Steve and obviously Tony after a moment of shame.

A snoring was heard from the other end of the sofa, and turning his eyes to the direction of the snoring, Peter saw the sleeping Sam, Nat, Steve and…well, everyone. He couldn't even tell who snorted, they were cuddling in such tightness (but he'd bet on Clint) . Turning his eyes above, Tony looked at him warmly and at the same time seriously, wanting this kid to understand it.

"You know this kiddo? " Peter smiled happily, blushing a little.

"Yes, dad ."

[bigasswritingmagnet]

Relatively Speaking, This Will Probably be Fine (Ch 5)

Fandom: Girl Genius Rating: T Summary: Everyone knows Agatha Sannikova can't be a Heterodyne, even if she did arrive mysteriously one night to live with Lady Teodora and Lord Saturnus. She's got those headaches, and she's not too bright - she's not even a Spark! She does get along quite well with Lord Saturnus, which is a bit odd, but she's had a very good affect on his health. Lady Teodora doesn't like the kind of, er, "life lessons" he's tried to teach her, but Agatha hasn't set anyone on fire or unleashed any terrifying monstrosities on the town.

...what do you mean, tempting fate?

<Last Chapter | Chapter One | Next Chapter > AO3 Link

It took Agatha twenty minutes to walk to and from school, and she was always on time. If Teodora began to prepare Agatha’s after school snack at three o’clock exactly, she could always have it ready just as she came through the door.

Thus she was startled when she was only halfway through warming the milk for the hot chocolate and the front door slammed.

“Agatha? You’re home earl—”

Saturnus’ door opened and slammed shut. Alarmed, Teodora turned off the stove and hurried out of the kitchen, into Saturnus’ room, and her heart shattered.

Agatha was kneeling by the bed, face pressed against the blankets as she sobbed, her whole body shaking. Saturnus had one hand on her head, stroking her hair with great effort. His eyes met Teodora’s, and she was shocked to see such pain and grief in them. Saturnus flicked his gaze between Teodora and Agatha, pleadingly.

“Agatha, darling,” Teodora said, putting her hands on Agatha’s shoulders. “What happened?”

“Everyone is always so awful,” Agatha sobbed. “We had a group project and no one wanted to work with me and the teacher had to make them, and they complained about it right in front of me! And then they wouldn’t let me do anything because they said I’d ruin it because I’m too stupid!”

She once more dissolved into tears.

“Oh, you’re not stupid, Agatha—”

“I am! I am stupid! I’m stupid and useless and broken!”

“Oh, Agatha...” Teodora knelt down, pulled the girl into her arms and held her tightly. “They’re wrong, and you know it. You’re a very smart girl! You’re not useless, and you are certainly not broken.”

And then Saturnus and Agatha shared a look. It was commiserating, rueful and slightly weary, and Teodora tamped down the indignence that rose up at the sight of it. Indignence, and panic.

“Come on, dear,” she said, rising to her feet. “Change out of your uniform, and you and I will go work in the garden for a bit.”

Agatha hesitated, looking at her grandfather, but Saturnus tipped his head in a brief nod and flicked his fingers in a shooing motion.

Agatha allowed herself to be led out of the room, but she was quiet as she changed and joined Teodora outside.

It had taken weeks of arguing before Saturnus agreed to let her live outside the castle, but when he had finally presented the house to her, Teodora had had to admit it was a lovely place. She had not asked for a backyard or a garden, but Saturnus had provided it anyway. Half of it was taken up by the shed, which had originally been a stable for the family’s horses.

The rest was flowerbeds, filled with plants that would bloom in all seasons and times of day. Alone in such a terrible place, Teodora had wanted to be sure she could always escape to something beautiful.

Teodora gave Agatha a trowel and bucket and set her to weeding, then let her be. She wouldn’t push the girl to speak--let Agatha be alone with her thoughts, until she was ready to speak on her own.

While she clipped dead leaves from a rosebush, Teodora thought again about the look shared between Agatha and Saturnus. It had been a look that suggested more familiarity than should have been possible with a man who could barely move, let alone speak.

Teodora had allowed her to spend time with him only because she assumed he was in no position to influence her. What if he had found a way?

“I hate them,” Agatha said, abruptly.

“Who?”

“The other kids. The teachers. I hate all of them. They’re all so awful for no reason.”

“People can be cruel,” Teodora admitted. “The world can be unkind to people who are different. The important thing is not to let it make you unkind.”

“Why shouldn’t I be unkind?” Agatha demanded. She began to stab at the dirt sullenly with the trowel. “If everyone is going to be mean to me, why shouldn’t I be mean back? They started it.”

An almost familiar conversation.

“Do you want other people to feel the way you feel?”

Agatha was quiet for a moment, tugging at weeds .

“Sometimes,” she muttered.

“Not the children at school. Other people. Strangers.”

“Of course not.”

“Then you must stay kind. If you aren’t careful, you can end up like them—hurting people because it makes you feel stronger.”

Agatha considered this with an expression that made Teodora warily. Sure enough:

“So...I should only be mean to people who are mean to me first.”

Oh dear.

“Not...exactly what I meant.”

“Are you going to tell me I have to be the bigger person?” Agatha asked, her nose wrinkling. “Because I hate when people tell me that.”

“There’s nothing wrong with standing up for yourself. But you have to be careful about things like ‘being mean back’. It’s very easy to justify doing terrible things. How mean does someone have to be, and how mean do you get to be in return?”

She put her hand on Agatha’s shoulder.

“The world can be unkind,” she said again. “It does not need us to make it worse.”

“But it’s hard,” Agatha whined. “I don’t want to be nice.”

“You do,” Teodora said. “You want other people to stop being mean. It’s hard to be nice when people aren’t nice back.” She smiled sadly. “One day, things will be easier. I promise you.”

“You can’t promise that,” Agatha said.

“But I will anyway,” Teodora insisted. “The other children will grow up and realize that they were wrong to tease you, and feel sorry for what they’ve done.”

Because they will learn they were teasing their Heterodyne, and what will that do to those minions in training?

“And then you will be glad you were kind to them, because then you get to be morally superior.”

Agatha burst out laughing. Teodora smiled and stroked her cheek.

“So will you try to be kind? For me?”

“Okay,” Agatha said. “I’ll try.”

[slveepyscwrs]

5 MORE reasons to start writing again (Motivation Post pt. 2!)

Hey besties, the original part one post has surpassed five reblogs! As promised, here are an additional five reasons why you should open your Google Doc, TextEdit, Notepad, or whatever it is and START. WRITING. THAT. FANFICTION!

Hear me out– getting your first hate comment. Of course, I'm not talking about constructive criticism (which is not 'hate' to begin with) or the genuinely distressing hate where it escalates to personal threats. I'm talking about the general angry Karen "Ugh how dare you!" type comments. Remember, haters only target successful people so they can be jealous. So, the moment you get that first hate comment, you know you're doing something right.

Those random strokes of genius you get while writing out your work. You will read over the same sentence five, even 10 times in amazement, asking yourself over and over again, "Wow, I was the one who wrote this?"

The ability to affect your readers' emotions. This is another one that I don't really see talked about that much, but it makes you feel so powerful when you realise that those silly little words you typed up ACTUALLY have an effect on how people feel. Trust me, you will feel over the moon when you start to get comments like, "This fic made me cry," "This fic SENT me LMAAOO," "I was having a bad day, but this fic made me feel so much better."

Your grades will improve. Regardless of whether you're writing for school or for fun, writing at all is still good practice. The techniques you learn while writing fanfiction will genuinely make you a better writer at school as well. This doesn't even have to apply to your English class only– soon, you will find yourself soaring in any writing-related subject.

Getting noticed by people who don't even speak the same language as you! It can be confusing at first when you write in one language but get a comment in another language, but it makes you feel good about yourself when you know that your fanfiction was so good that someone who might not even know English that well still wanted to read it.

That's it for today! If you have any more writing problems you want to ask me for advice about, or you would like to see more content like this, let me know in my 'Ask Me Anything!' section!

[dailymtgflavortext]

Make it a Combo #15

Thought this one up in the car the other day and figured I'd better share this stroke of sheer genius with the world!

As I was browsing random foils, I picked up a Body of Research:

It's a cool card, so I thought it was worth having. Now, what to do with it? What use is there in having a creature with power equal to the size of your library? My first thought was to use Soul's Majesty to draw your entire library:

That's not too bad, but how about we take it one step further with Rishkar's Expertise instead?

Now you get a free spell cast as well. Much better! And of course, you have your choice of any mana value 5 or less spell from your entire deck because your entire deck is currently in your hand! Sounds like we're approaching a win here. But how do we do it? There's a massive creature in play, so how about Chandra's Ignition?

BABOOM! That certainly does the trick, but it requires Temur colors. Can this be done in Simic, since we know we at least have green and blue?

Oh.

Yeah, that would do it.

So, there you go! For the low low cost of 12 mana, you win the game! Just make sure you already have that Rishkar's Expertise in your hand when you play Body of Research. You don't want to draw it on a later turn and then draw your library out and lose!

Unless...?

[erideights]

With my 6th sense. (3)

Pairing: Hunter x fem! jedi reader

Rating: SFW

Wordcount: 3K

Chapters: (1) (2) (4)* (5)* (*not posted yet)

Warnings and tags: extremely light swearing from frat boy Hunter (because no one can tell me he didn't before he became all soft in TBB), canon-typical slight violence, tension between characters, maybe plot convenience (but let's be real, who doesn't add it?? The Clone Wars was just it all the time)

Summary: Another day, another suicide mission for the squad. This time commanded by a jedi general Hunter doesn't seem to really get along with.

A/N: I've been struggling a bit with making Hunter so distrustful, thinking it was maybe out of character, and then I rewatched episodes 1,2,3,4 of The Clone Wars season 7 where they are introduced, and actually saw how suspicious he was of Echo at first. So yeah, it's pretty accurate and I love it. Enjoy!

Blurred streaks of light turn into distant stars as the Bad Batch’s shuttle, the Havoc Marauder -she still wonders who chose that name but will wait some more to ask- drops out of hyperspace, Serenno now looming ahead. Tech worked thoroughly to disguise their shuttle as a Separatist cargo vessel during their long trip, modifying all their scanner parameters, and now they are moments away from testing his handiwork and to see if the general's creative idea is a stroke of genius or a suicidal move.

Hunter’s mind is a swirl of doubts, tension painfully pulling from his muscles while seated in the copilot seat. Usually, when he’s the one that proposes the reckless strategies, he doesn’t worry so much about the outcome. Maybe because if everything goes wrong, he would blame himself, but this time he wouldn’t have that privilege. He glances at his General as his thoughts wander to her, far too relaxed given the circumstances. That playful smirk tugging at her lips and how calm she seems to be does little to ease his nerves. In fact, it infuriates him more. Her confidence is both reassuring and unnerving at the same time.

“Alright, everyone, get ready,” Tech instructs, his hands flying over the controls. “We’re approaching the Separatist control station.”

And as on cue, the mechanical voice of a battle droid echoes through the cockpit. “State your designation and cargo,” it demands.

Tech adjusts his goggles and leans in, voice steady and authoritative. “Shuttle TR-77, carrying supplies for the main base on Serenno. Transmitting clearance codes now.”

Hunter’s jaw tightens as silence falls over them. Oh, he really doesn’t trust this plan. What if they see through the ruse? What would happen if a damn droid decides to take a peek through the front of the ship?

The jedi, sensing his unease filling the room like toxic gas in a locked closet, leans closer to his seat, calmly resting her arm against it. “What’s the matter, sarge? Don’t trust Tech’s hacking skills?”

Before Hunter can respond, his lip twitching in what she would say is close to a snarl, Tech beats him to it. “Actually, based on the statistical data and previous successful infiltrations, there is a 97.6% chance this will hold up. The algorithms I use to—”

“Tech,” Hunter interrupts, keeping his eyes on the screen, “focus.”

“Roger roger, TR-77, you may approach and land,” the droids finally confirm.

Hunter exhales slowly, thinking he is subtle enough, but he isn’t. “See? Told you it would work,” she says with a playful grin, chuckling lowly.

Wrecker, on the other hand, slumps back in his seat, clearly disappointed. “I wanted some action.”

“Just wait,” Crosshair says dryly, biting into his toothpick. “Things always blow up eventually.”

…

Everyone’s getting ready by the time the cargo ship descends smoothly through Serenno’s atmosphere, the planet’s thick cloud cover parting to reveal a dense, sprawling forest below on its way to the main base. Tech’s hands move deftly over the controls, detaching and guiding the shuttle to a discreet landing spot near the edge of the forest. The ship lands with a soft thud, -smooth in comparison to the disaster the sergeant pulled off hours before-, and blends seamlessly into the surrounding greenery.

Hunter’s gaze sweeps over the calm landscape before he turns to his team. “Alright, lads,” Hunter calls them, drawing everyone's attention to him, his tone commanding while reluctantly checking everything is in place with his new outfit. “Let’s get this started. Crosshair, you stay here near the Marauder. If things go south, we’ll need a quick escape. General, you’re with me on the front. We’ll scout ahead and ensure the lab is clear once we find it. Tech, you’re with Wrecker.”

So, he’s the one giving orders now, huh? (Y/N) raises an eyebrow and rolls her eyes at how bluntly he ignores her rank and command, her authority to be the one to give the orders there, but keeps her thoughts to herself because, in the end, he knows best how his squad works. Hunter’s need to assert control could be a problem, though. “Want to keep an eye on me, sergeant? Afraid I might steal your thunder?”

Hunter’s expression remains hard to read, he could be annoyed or incredibly calm at the same time. He steals a quick glance at her, though. “I just want to make sure everything goes smoothly.”

She nods, pressing her lips in a cocky frown. “Sure thing.”

And so, with their roles established, the group splits up. Hunter and (Y/N) are the first to go into the forest with Tech and Wrecker close behind, the air thick with the scent of damp earth and decaying leaves. The canopy above is dense, allowing only slivers of sunlight to pierce through, casting dappled shadows on the forest floor.

Hunter’s enhanced senses stay on high alert at all times. Every rustle of leaves, every snap of a twig, the humidity in the air around them, and the wet earth underfoot, he hears it all, smells it all. He crouches low, his improvised, ‘’undercover’’ helmet under his left arm, examining the ground where faint tracks of heavy machinery have disturbed the soil, he guesses, a month ago. “This way,” he huskily murmurs.

The jedi just watches him work, intrigued by his meticulous nature. She relents her steps at some point, letting Tech and Wrecker reach her and then, she leans softly to the first. “Remind me what he… does, exactly.” She inquires kindly, raising an eyebrow in the direction of the squad leader.

The clone, who was just checking his datapad until now, looks at her and then at Hunter, nodding in understanding. “He’s just tracking. Hunter’s abilities are actually extraordinary. All his senses are heightened to a level and precision that are almost superhuman. He can track a target through environments that would be impossible for others, or feel electromagnetic fields around him.”

Amused and finding that genuinely interesting, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Does he, now?” That’s the closest thing to a… physical, weaker version of the Force. More or less. “That’s impressive.”

“Indeed,” Tech continues, more than happy to talk to whoever was ready to listen to him. “The Kaminoans designed him with an acute awareness that allows him to detect even the faintest traces of a trail. But it’s not just physical; his brain processes these sensory inputs at an accelerated rate, making him an unparalleled tracker.”

And from there, she assumes correctly, comes his name. Originality might not be their strong suit, but it… suits him and that inherent masculinity that seems to ooze out of every pore of his skin. And she must admit, she has heard much worse.

The Jedi nods, now in deep thought, her eyes lingering on Hunter’s back as he leads them through the dense forest. He moves with the precision of a well-oiled machine, every step calculated to avoid detection. Though, she highly doubts there’s anything to worry about there in the open; according to their -Tech’s- calculations, security, both outside and inside, should be minimal. After all, they are deep in Separatist territory, only someone desperate or straight-up (borderline) suicidal would even think to try to infiltrate.

With ease and guided by their human map -better than calling him loth-wolf- the team gets deeper into the forest, the mechanical sounds of the hidden laboratory under their feet growing louder and more annoying inside the sergeant’s ears. And then he stops, raising a hand, signaling them to halt. ‘’This is it.’’

In front of them, in a small clearing surrounded by younger trees than what they’ve seen before, stands a stone structure no more than 3 meters high, covered in fallen leaves and vines. A good way to make it pass slightly more "unnoticed". Judging by the way there is absolutely nothing behind it, it is easy to assume it is an elevator.

Tech approaches the concealed entrance, his fingers dancing over his datapad. “Definitely the place. I’ll start bypassing the security.”

Hunter turns to her, his gaze steady. “Stay sharp. We don’t know what’s inside.’’

“Well, in that case maybe we should find another way in first and make sure it’s clear,” she suggests, her eyes scanning the ground, her feet taking her from one side of the lab entrance to the other. She starts kicking at the large piles of dry leaves accumulated, without success the first three or four times.

The hell is she doing? Hunter frowns, curious, arms crossed and senses alert, but he doesn’t seem to hear or feel anything nearby besides the lab. ‘’What do you suggest, General?’’

“Ventilation ducts,” moving a few meters away, in the direction of one of the few thick trees she spots around, she bites her lower lip, focusing on finding them and proving her point. ‘’An underground base must have ventilation ducts to the surface, right? We both could sneak in and wait for them inside.’’

Once in front of the large, tall, and open roots of the tree, she takes a closer look, squatting on the ground. Inside them there only seem to be dead leaves and some mushrooms, but a blinking light, very small but red, proves her right.

She scoffs ‘cause in the end, the Separatists and the Republic are not so different; there are very similar shelters on Naboo with the same technique to cover their ventilation ducts and secret doors to escape. “Found them.”

That was really clever. Smart. And there’s a part of him that’s surprised of not having thought about it himself. So as Hunter approaches from behind, taking a look over the Jedi, he nods to himself, pleased and annoyed in equal parts. Though he wouldn’t admit it. Nor let it show. He is too proud to give her any kind of credit, but… he likes her style. 

He just finds her perky personality annoying.

She looks back over her shoulder, her lips curling into a playful smile as soon as she catches a glimpse of approval in his eyes. Her head tilting in a gesture that invites him to go with her. “Shall we, sarge?”

…

Her feet land softly and silently on the pristine metallic floor of the base, Hunter behind her with a subtle, deaf thud. Their movements are silent and precise, not daring to pronounce a single word until they verify it's all clear. Both start walking around in sync, searching for the elevator door to let the others in. The interior is a stark contrast to the forest outside—sterile, metallic, and illuminated by cold, fluorescent lights. The walls are clean, with a couple of terminals next to each door. The air is filled with a faint hum of electricity and the occasional beep of automated systems in the distance or mouse droids. It is a place of cold efficiency and clinical precision, a far cry from the natural chaos of the forest above.

Under his helmet, Hunter’s eyes scan the corridors, picking up every detail around them. The sterile smell of the lab, the faint whir of machinery, the subtle vibrations of the floor—all of it loud inside his brain. "Clear," he whispers, his voice barely audible.

(Y/N) nods and sends a quick message through her comm to give the green light to Tech and Wrecker still outside, closing her eyes for a moment, breathing deeply. She might not have his cool enhanced, superhuman senses, but she has an extra one, her 6th one, that’s not warning her at all of any possible threats at this precise moment.

The other two clones don’t take long to reach them, with Tech immediately moving towards the first terminal he spots. His fingers fly over his data-pad, connecting to the system. "I’m in. Closing the cameras on loop and downloading the map of the lab now," he says, eyes focused on the screen. The personification of efficiency right there.

Looking at him from the corner of her eye, she would swear Hunter seems to relax for just a moment thanks to the lack of activity around them, his eyes fixed on the end of the open corridor, his mind racing even if his body doesn’t show it. "Find the communication center. That’s our primary target."

Tech nods, his eyes darting back and forth. "Got it. This way."

Moving through the labyrinthine corridors of the lab, passing closed rooms filled with half-constructed droids partially visible from outside, workbenches cluttered with tools, and scientists’ notes scribbled on boards, they find no more than a couple of scientists working in the distance, too distracted to notice them. As they pass another set of closed doors, though, Wrecker can’t resist peeking through a small window. "Looks like more droids in there," he mutters mostly to himself. "Probably more trouble waiting for us."

Let’s hope not.

Giving him a playful look, nudging at his arm, the jedi pushes him softly. "Keep moving, Wrecker. We’ll do some sightseeing next time."

"There won’t be a next time," Hunter grumpily corrects her, incapable of shaking off the feeling of being watched, even though he knows and feels there's no one doing so, and it’s just his paranoia. And she cannot help but glance at him again, over the black mask covering half of her face, his tension so strong she swears she can taste it through the Force. "Relax, sergeant. I thought your team enjoyed risky missions."

But the sergeant keeps walking, his eyes jumping to her for a second, shaking his head lightly. "We do, but I would rather fight a male yalbec than be balls deep into separatist territory."

"Fair enough."

And to keep being fair with his concerns, she must admit, it’s somehow unnerving not finding anything or anyone through the corridors. Almost too convenient, even if they already count with a minimum to nonexistent level of security.

Then they reach the communication center and Tech connects right away to another terminal in the middle of a control panel in the center of the room. And as he works, Hunter’s unease grows. Every second feels like an eternity inside that hell of a place, and he would love nothing more than giving Wrecker thumbs up to blow it all, and then he hears it. Something moving, or better said: a lot of things moving. In their direction. Slowly.

"Wait—" but it’s too late, the moment Tech connected his data-pad to the control panel, his actions triggered a silent alarm that woke up some droids. "We are about to get company," Hunter hisses in a low tone, pulling out his vibroblade.

Wrecker’s face lights up with anticipation. "Finally, some action!"

"Technically, it’s just a small guard squad checking for a false alarm. If we hide..." Tech starts talking fast, already searching for solutions to the problem.

"We can’t hide him," The General interrupts to point at Wrecker, noting matter-of-factly as she peeks out the hallway to check where the droids will arrive right after. "Have you blocked external communications?"

"Since we entered," he assures her with a small nod.

"Good. Let’s take care of these droids quietly and get out of here," Hunter orders, to which everyone nods without exception. Wrecker more reluctantly; he wanted a good fight.

‘’And remember—’’ squinting her eyes, she first glances at the sergeant, then at the biggest clone; so the one she trusts the least, basically, he enjoys maybe too much the idea of destroying everything. ‘’If we see the droid we came looking for, don't touch the motherboard. We need to bring the control unit intact to Coruscant.’’

A couple of mechanical voices give away the arrival of a squadron of battle droids within minutes, an experimental one for the way it doesn’t seem fully finished, sleek and deadly, keeping its distance in the back, silent, observing. Its design is already more advanced than the classical ones, with a menacing, insect-like appearance.

With a hiss, the regular battle droids open the doors and not even a second later, Wrecker smashes the head of one of them without mercy or having taken a real look at it. Hunter stabs another, as (Y/N)'s lightsaber cuts the third in half. Their big boy, true to form, engages the last one with sheer brute force, enjoying every second from the moment he lifts it into the air until he slams it against a wall. 

That was dramatic, poor droid.

"Is that all you got?" Wrecker taunts, grinning from ear to ear.

But unbeknownst to them, the experimental droid that kept its distance analyzed the situation from afar and seeing one of the intruders connected to the terminal, it bypasses the others, faster than the group can predict, and zeroes in on Tech. It lunges, pinning him to the wall by his neck, its mechanical fingers tightening. Tech's eyes widen in shock, his hands scrambling to pry the droid's grip from his throat.

And from here… everything happens just. so. fast.

Hunter doesn’t hesitate, vibroblade in hand, he plunges the blade into the droid’s motherboard in the back of its head, stabbing strong and deep.

"Hunter, wait! That’s the one we n—" The jedi scream comes too late. She didn’t think she would have needed to scream at all. But there she is.

The droid sparks and falls limp, and an ear-splitting alarm blares to life. Red lights flash throughout the lab, bathing everything in a crimson glow. The sound of the alarm echoes through the corridors, a harbinger of the chaos to come.

Silence falls over them as Hunter pulls back, his movements fluid, but his eyes wide with realization as soon as he processes (Y/N)’s warning. This cannot be happening. "Kriff—"

[loginceweek2024]

Prompts for Logince Week are up!

Dearest Fanders, the prompts have finally arrived. With the help of your wonderful suggestions, I managed to compile a prompt list that will hopefully inspire you to create during this event. I tried to make it a combination of words, phrases, and sentences - hope you'll like it! ✨

💙❤️

Day 1 (21/01): "Stars"

Day 2 (22/01): "Revenge"

Day 3 (23/01): "Adventure"

Day 4 (24/01): "Block by Burnout"

Day 5 (25/01): "Stroke of Genius"

Day 6 (26/01): "Tell me all about it."

Day 7 (27/01): "Am I worthy? Are you proud?"

💙❤️

Of course, these prompts are largely meant to inspire you: please take the liberty to implement and interpret them however you wish! Need some help? Maybe these honorable mentions could give you the spark you need: Poetry, Dance, Wings, Sacrifice, Duet, Regret, Music Theory... GLITTER!

For the sake of clarity (and with Logan's insistance), I'll include the rules and general information about the event below.

This will be a SFW event. This means that NSFW works will not be reblogged here. Please be aware to include potential TWs/CWs to your posts if applicable, and I will make sure to include them in the tags when reblogging.

To submit works, please use the tag #loginceweek2024 and mention @loginceweek2024 in your post. I will be going through the tag daily and try my best to reblog your works. In case I’ve missed your post, feel free to shoot me a DM!

The prompts are mainly there to inspire you - feel free to implement and interpret them in any way/shape/form you desire!

As of today (January 15th) there is an AO3 Collection for Logince Week this year! If you want to submit your fics to the collection, search for LoginceWeek2024 in the Collection tab when submitting.

Don’t feel obliged to partake in every single day. Participate in whatever day sparks inspiration for you, and take care as to not overwork yourself.

Any kind of work is accepted! Fics, fan art, cosplay, edits, playlists, moodboards... You name it!

Any late submissions will be accepted up until a week after the event, after which the blog will go into a hiatus. That means you posts for the event will be reblogged here until February 3rd (Janus' birthday!)..

For the third year in a row, I will be your mod: Lost (they/them)! Please don't hesitate to send me an ask if you have any questions, qualms or suggestions. I hope you're gonna enjoy it here! Looking forward to seeing you guys very soon 💫

[badassomens]

Noah Sebastian x f!Reader

Genre: from friends to lovers, fluff, +18, smut

Warnings: Alcohol, smoking,p in v, unprotected sex, oral sex

Author: I really hope you enjoyed it. This is my first such fic with Noah. And in general, the first big fic. I would also like to remind you that English is not my native language, so I apologize for the mistakes❤️

Part 5

You were at a party that evening. As it turned out, it was the birthday of some mutual friend of yours. You were sitting by the pool, Noah was chatting with the birthday boy. You looked at it and realized that you missed him like hell. You catch yourself thinking that you have been staring at his movements and realize this only when you hear a voice that says your name.

"Margot!" Megan was standing right in front of you, "Are you deaf or something?"

"Oh, hi, Meg, I was thinking, I'm sorry."

You look at your friend, smiling guiltily, and then look back at Noah.

A friend followed your gaze and looked at you in surprise.

"Is that Noah?! When did he come back?"

"Yes, that's him. When he returned, I had no idea, but in the afternoon I met him on the doorstep of my house. And I spent the whole day at his home"

"Are you fucked up? This guy just took off for 3 months, and you turned up at his house at his first call?!"

"Megan, don't scream, please. We discussed everything with him. The situation turned out to be as absurd as possible. We didn't understand each other and that's why it happened." Your friend looked at you incredulously, not knowing what to say

"Okay. But if you're going to suffer for him again, I'm going to get him out of the ground, okay? You can tell him so!"

"Okay, okay." You smiled at your friend and looked back at Noah. This time he takes a drag on his cigarette, subsequently releasing bluish smoke. The picture took your breath away. And the longer you continued to watch, the more convinced I became that your joke about repeating the kiss was not a joke at all. You have a "genius" plan in your head that you were going to implement this evening.

~

It was already dark outside when you realized that the party was starting to bother you. Noticing this, Noah sits closer to you. Your head falls on his shoulder. You've had enough to drink today to be brave, but not lose control.

"I'm tired, it's too noisy here..."

"Did you stop having fun again while I was gone?"He gets an affirmative nod to his question. "Can we go to my place and sit together like before?" The question that you wanted to hear and to which there will definitely be a positive answer. Noah gets to his feet and takes you by the hand, leading you away from unnecessary noise.

~

When you were already at home, you sat for about an hour, chatting casually and drinking cocktails prepared by Noah.

You were telling some story when you noticed a guy's gaze wandering over your face and lingering on your lips.

At one point, you just reach out to each other. Noah gently pulls you by the neck, kisses you and, feeling no resistance on your part, slips his tongue into your mouth. You exhale noisily, completely surrendering to his warm hands.

By touch, he pushes the glasses on the table in front of him and pulls you towards him, sitting you down on the table. His hands slide over the neck, shoulders, move to the waist, and then to the lower back, carefully climbing under the T-shirt. You, in turn, run your palm over the guy's chest and, reaching the edge of the T-shirt, pull it up, intending to pull it off the guy, which you generally succeed in freeing the tattooed body from unnecessary clothes.

Noah's lips descend on your neck. His hands pull off his T-shirt and crawl under the cup of his bra, stroking his chest. With a skillful movement, Noah unbuttons the bodice, throwing it aside. Kisses descend to the collarbones, kissing every centimeter continues to descend to the chest. You feel a wet touch on your nipple and moan softly, burying your fingers in Noah's hair. At this time, his hands explore your hips, stroking and making their way under your skirt, groping for the elastic band of your panties.

After giving attention to the second nipple, Noah continues to kiss his way down, simultaneously pulling off your panties. Once on his knees, he covers your hips with kisses, paying attention to every centimeter and inexorably approaching the most cherished.

Suddenly Noah pulls you closer to the edge and you feel hot breath on your pussy. You tilt your head back, unable to hold back a moan when his tongue touches your clitoris. A hot tongue draws simple shapes on your pussy, sometimes passing between the folds and penetrating inside.

You lower your head down and a beautiful picture opens up in front of you: Noah is kneeling between your legs, diligently bringing you to ecstasy, completely ignoring his erect penis.

Just the sight of it was enough to make you cum.

You put your hands on top of his palms, holding your hips, and pull up, forcing you to stand up. His eyes are burning with fire, and his lips are glistening with saliva and your natural lubricant. Without thinking twice, you kiss him, feeling your taste on your tongue.

Your hands slide down his tattooed body, confidently finding the yarn of the belt and unbuttoning it. You pull back the elastic band of his boxers and gently stroke his hard cock. You run your thumb over the head and wipe off a drop of protruding lubricant. In response to your actions, Noah groans strangled into a kiss and slowly, as if in retaliation for your actions, inserts two fingers into you. You bend over and moan, clutching his cock in your hand.

Breaking away from you, Noah pulls you off the table, turning you around with your back to him, forcing you to lie down on the table with your chest.

He strokes your waist, lower back and buttocks. You, in turn, bend over, exposing yourself to his caresses.

Suddenly you feel a cock touching your pussy

"Fucking... Are you really that wet for me?" You hear a soft whisper as Noah leans in to kiss you on the shoulder.

Noah gently runs his penis along the sensitive folds, slowly sinking into you. You moan loudly from the feeling of stretching inside. You can literally feel every inch of it.

Noah is patiently waiting for you to let him start moving. After getting used to it a little, you lean your hips back, giving a sign to Noah

He immediately begins to move in you, gradually accelerating. After a while, his pace becomes quite wild. You are sure that bruises will remain on your bones from frequent contact with the table and you, damn it, really like it.

You feel Noah slow down a little and get out of you, pick you up from the table and turn you around to face him, seating you in front of him again. He kisses you and gently enters, but this time without letting you get used to it and starting to move immediately in a fast rhythm.

You tilt your head back, giving access to your neck. You no longer have the strength to moan and you just breathe noisily with your mouth slightly open. You can feel Noah squeezing your hips and pressing against your neck, first kissing and then biting the skin.

A couple more thrusts and you feel like an orgasm covers you completely. A few more movements and Noah comes out of you, cumming profusely on your stomach.

He presses his forehead against yours and you stay in this position for a couple more minutes, trying to catch your breath.

After that, the guy picks you up in his arms and takes you to the shower. Washes away some traces of your fun and kisses you gently.

After the shower, he also carries you into the bedroom and puts you on the bed, lying down next to you and covering you with a blanket.

"Sunshine, do you know that we are idiots?"

"I know, but I don't care," You hug Noah, clinging to him as tightly as possible, "But just try to escape after that. I'll get you out of the ground."

"I'm not going to run away from you anymore, sunshine," He kisses you on the forehead and hugs you back, "but we'll get back to talking about us in the morning, okay?"

You don't say anything, just put your head on Noah's chest, falling asleep peacefully for the first time in a while.

[theoutcastrogue]

A story about a wall

This wall is in my old neighbourhood, and it didn’t always look like this. When I was a kid, it was painted grey and was always covered with graffiti – not art, just words and phrases and maybe a symbol. The majority of these, I’d say about ~60%, were football-related.

[rival team fans] you are cunts

[neighbourhood] belongs to [our team]

[rival team fans] we fuck your mothers

suck our cocks [rival team fans] faggots

And so on. Another ~20% were anarchist.

free [political prisoner]

down with the state

anarchy forever

fuck the army

And so on. Another ~10% were otherwise political. The names of big and small political parties (and some MPs) showed up at election season, not scrawled with spray but painted professionally with rollers in huge letters. Sometimes a union urged people to join a strike or rally. Very very rarely a fascist graffiti would show up, but it would get defaced immediately. There were a lot more anarchists than fascists back then.

And the rest was about love and/or lust.

[name] I love you

I miss you so much

[name] when will you let me fuck you?

the ass is hell / and the cunt a well / and he who ass never tried / goes to Hades blind

And so on. Defaced graffiti was a big part of the wall. People spared no spray cans crossing out each other’s messages, and at times it all looked like the deranged scrawlings of an eldritch abomination, you couldn’t make out a single word.

And here’s a very important detail about that wall: it’s facing an elementary school.

My school, to be exact. Small children (i.e. we) would go out to the schoolyard at recess, look across the street, and see what I just described. Needless to say, a lot of adults were quite displeased with this situation. But what could they do? The mayor would send a cleaning crew once in a while, but 5 minutes after they left someone would inaugurate the freshly painted wall, and a day later it would be full again. Walls in cities be like that.

AND THEN, long after I was gone from the school, someone had a stroke of genius. They said, we’re not gonna paint the wall that awful monochrome grey again. Instead, we’ll cover it in street art. BUT, we won’t ask street artists to pitch their ideas. We will ask the children of the elementary school to come up with the designs, draw them themselves or pick them from wherever they want. We’ll hire a crew to paint what they chose. And we’ll make sure everyone knows that the children picked the street art. Which heartless bastard will spray over that?

AND IT FUCKING WORKED. The football hooligans, the anti-authoritarian rebels, the politicians’ stooges, the unionists, the lovers, the assholes: no one had the heart to spray over that. The street art went up, and stayed up. It didn’t get defaced, it didn’t get covered, it’s still there. (Not quite unblemished, there are still margins where football fans do their thing, but it’s a very small percentage of the total surface.)

yeah, that part looks like the old wall

So while the street art itself on that wall is not particularly jaw-dropping, its origin story is just crazy. I’m sure that the children weren’t given totally free rein to pick designs, and that teachers and/or the city council made the final choice. And it’s probably they who picked the theme – bicycles. All neat and proper and kid-friendly. Still, one little rascal managed to slip this past:

“Till theft give us parts”, i.e. bicycle parts, get it? (DON’T JUDGE THE PUN, IT WAS A LITTLE KID.) And it makes me so happy.

[loisfreakinglane]

What are your top 5 Dollhouse characters and episodes and also just moments in general?

okay okay okay lettuce get into it! i must warn you ahead of time, i am about to ramble incoherently for entirely TOO LONG!!!!!!!!!!

top 5 dollhouse characters:

priya. always priya. my judgey dorky lil vagabond. she's an artist she's a world traveler she's a survivor. she confronts her problems head on, she is brutally honest. she doesn't give a fuck about money or prestige. she loves loudly, through acts of service. infiltrating a military compound to save tony. coming back to the dollhouse to save her friends. introducing baby tony to his father. i love her rage and her perseverance and her bitterness. i love her willingness to forgive and start anew. she's an all timer for me.

tony. priya's other half. i really want to crawl inside his brain to try and understand him. what is it that made him sign up for the dollhouse to recover from ptsd, only to immediately turn around on his release day and sign up to be a soldier again- only with no individual identity, part of a mass hive mind. he had no wants for himself, not until he met priya and she became the center of his world. he could be so cavalier, so lighthearted in the face of horror. making smalltalk with priya in the middle of a gun fight. joking that she should wound him if he was imprinted with someone evil, but to ~stay away from his junk~ did he only truly value his personhood when it came to protecting priya and their son? I DON'T KNOW BUT I KEEP FLIPPING HIM OVER IN MY BRAIN LOOKING FOR ANSWERS.

topher. on first blush- an amoral asshole, so focused on stroking his own ego with his giant genius brain, he never stopped to worry who was peering over his shoulder. i think he gets dismissed as a dick a bit too much, when on rewatch, his biggest flaw to ME was naivete and carelessness. he convinced himself he was a good person- he ~fixed~ priya, he ~cured~ a fuckton of soldiers' ptsd, he imprinted echo to reach out to abused children. and he never worried that the dollhouse couldn't be trusted- he trusted adelle, he trusted her ability to retain control. he's a goofy, dorky childish dumbass. and he ends the fucking world (or at least heavily speeds up humanitys downfall). but his arc from careless dick high on his own prowess to traumatized, guilty, grieving, desperate to actually be a good person for once. and that's not even taking the epitaph's into account! and whatever it was in that decade between the hollow men and the epitaphs that drove him entirely off the deep end. anyway topher makes me sad and i love him and i think his ~redemption arc~ is very engaging

boyd. STOP JUDGING ME. DON'T DO IT. I LOVE WHO I LOVE. okay like first off- obviously- THE WRITING IS A MESS. THE REVEAL IS A MESS. WHO KNOWS HOW MUCH IT ACTUALLY MAKES SENSE TAKEN AS A WHOLE. but right now, coming off this rewatch? i just??? love him???? i love my evil dad, a total wackadoodle mastermind, taking an entry level job at his own fucking company because he's fixated on a new innovation he discovered- caroline, her weird body quirks, her innate capacity for revolutionizing the dollhouse tech. he was so intent on guiding her progress while pretending to be some lowly ex-cop. and then he went and fell in love with his coworkers. much as he ruined their lives, he had genuine love for echo, adelle, topher. perhaps claire. (when did she become clyde? was it right after she left the house?) beyond them, i'm not entirely sure how far his adoration spread- i like to think he was fond of priya and tony too. he guides echo's development, he's genuinely upset when he is removed as her handler. he prods topher about his sense of morality for 2 seasons straight, pushing him to consider the consequences of his actions. helping topher and priya cover up nolan's (righteous, justified, absolutely self-defense) murder. he throws more and more opposition adelle's way until she takes charge. he wants them all to be their best selves- and he wants them all to save each other. AND BE A FAMILY. TOGETHER FOREVER DURING THE APOCALYPSE. and there's something very funny to me about him hating paul, while he spent two years arguably pretending to be a man very much like paul.

caroline. echo. i still struggle to grapple with the differences. is this like a holy trinity thing, is caroline just another facet of echo, alongside all her other imprints? is echo a facet of caroline? have echo and caroline turned into the same entity? did echo truly remain the porchlight, waiting for caroline to come home? YOU KNOW WHAT DOESN'T MATTER. tho carolecho should be considered nonbinary i am just saying. both alpha and echo should be enbys. sometimes i struggle with echo when her plot becomes very paul-centric, because while i very much love tahmoh and enjoy paul in his dynamics with other characters, the echo/paul relationship is not for me. but outside of that? i love her. i love that she's a warrior, before and after becoming an active. her fixation on rossum, her willingness to lie, manipulate to get to them. she found rossum first, and that got them interested. and her wacky health stats got them laser focused. she wanted so badly to save animals, save humans, save the world. having the weird bodily capacity to manufacture a vaccine was just a bizarre stroke of luck. but it was her choice, again and again and again, to do good things, to help people.

honorable mentions: adelle dewitt. laurence dominic!!!!!! ivy. alpha. margaret bashford.

TOP 5 EPISODES!

204 belonging. our priya-centric episode. the only priya-centric episode? which is very unfortunate, but hey, I'll take it. finally seeing her whole story. priya taking her power back, priya getting her revenge, priya making her own choices. priya/tony content. topher grappling with his complicity in horror. obviously he has always been complicit in horror but now he finally has to confront it head on, and it makes him second guess everything up to this point. and it makes him struggle with his relationships with both adelle- who he thought he could trust, who pushed him to do the wrong thing out of self preservation, and boyd- who he still believes he can trust, who protected him and priya, and helped topher do something fucking HORRIFYING for the right reasons. topher choosing to help priya, for real this time. after the bullshit help he was fooled into giving her. with a side of!!!!!! echo is still BECOMING herself, still exploring her mind, but this time it's boyd figuring her out, warning her of potential consequences from her actions, but helping her anyway. hiding her secrets, giving her the keycard for future use. god boyd in this episode..... warning echo of the consequences of her future actions, and helping topher deal with the consequences of HIS actions. helping cover up a murder. well. an act of self defense. righteous revenge. THE BITCH HAD IT COMING. which was soooooooo cathartic and beautiful and i LOVED IT.

209 stop-loss. OUR TONY-CENTRIC EPISODE! c'mon you knew i had to do it. another priya/tony episode. one of our only episodes featuring the crime fighting trio we could have had for multiple seasons in echo/priya/tony. echo getting to use her abilities to access her imprints. the journey we see tony take during this episode tho- being discharged from the dollhouse, given a pile of money and a new future. we got bits and pieces of this process through madeline, but it's given more time and depth here. seeing that although topher may have ~cured~ tonys ptsd, he is still isolated and traumatized by his experiences. and he knows something is missing- he sees priya in a club, only it's not her. and of course he's immediately swooped up by a rossum adjacent military outfit using active architecture to create a hivemind army. it was VERY dark angel x-7 series in a fascinating way. this should have been a multi-episode arc, but i'll take what i can get. echo and priya saving tony, tony having to overcome mind control to save priya. IMPECCABLE. but also! seeing our lil group of freedom fighters truly start to form! boyd, echo, topher, ivy, paul, priya, and tony. and our brief glimpse into adelle as THE BAD GUY. as well as! finally seeing adelle hit what we later find out was her breaking point. she got drunk, she got shot down by tony (in deleted scenes), she has that amazing moment where she goes down into the dollhouse, strips off her clothes and showers with the actives. this is the moment she chooses to join team TAKE DOWN ROSSUM. she had regained control over her house, but this is when she decides to take her power back. she's not playing rossum's game anymore.

108 needs. this episode!!!!!!!! our first time TRULY MEETING caroline, priya, tony and madeline. i mean i'll be upfront- i hate the beginning of this episode. i hate a dream depicting two women in a madonna whore dichotomy. angel devil shit. i hate it. BUT ONCE WE GET PAST THAT!!!!!!!!! 10/10. even the reveal that this ~awakening&escape~ was manufactured doesn't impact my enjoyment because the feelings are real, the experience is real. we get to see priya and tony be in love without understanding where that came from. madeline grieving a daughter she cannot remember. priya confronting the man who stole her life. tony protecting priya, the way he was unable to with joe hearn. and caroline- caroline gets to confront adelle and topher over the morality of their actions. and she gets to lead the dolls out into the light (which i do have to ask- they're 8 stories underground. did they take the elevators in shift? did echo ride up and down with the gun out every time? how did this go? you know what ignore me i don't need to pick this apart). which- what a goddamn moment. and to top it all off with the discovery that it was all claire's idea- and boyd takes issue with her over playing her own games with the dolls. she views it as necessary for their emotional states, but is he wrong? this was such an emotionally cathartic episode. and so so important for me and my connection to these people we usually only ever see as other fake people

109 a spy in the house of love. FLAWLESSSSS. first off, the framing device. following every active throughout their imprints day. missing bits and pieces every time. i loooove playing with perspective- everyone seeing different aspects, having different parts to pick over. priya and echo in parallel roles of a sort again, both hunting down a spy in very different ways. the revelation that dominic OF ALL PEOPLE was a fucking spy for the nsa. topher showing his soft side again when he suspected boyd and gave him the chance to run. in retrospect, while dominic was obviously... not a 10/10 person..... he tried to kill echo, he was prepared to torture and kill ivy, and kill topher and echo, to keep his cover....... he wasn't actually wrong about the dollhouse? the technology WAS too dangerous to let run rampant. adelle WAS naive to trust rossum. and echo WOULD be the one to bring this entire house of cards down. too late, but still. we also get to see the softer side of adelle here. she's not all boss bitch, she has vulnerabilities and dreams, she breaks down after dominics betrayal. she has no one to confide in but a person who is not real. oh my god not to mention! the reveal to paul that mellie is a doll!!!!!!!!! there are too many secret dolls this season probably, but the emotion with this reveal was so intense. it was so heavy and hurtful, so damaging. a great episode for topher, for dominic, for echo, for adelle. and at the end- adelle genuinely believing echo's progress is a GOOD THING because it protected the house. one of the best ENSEMBLE episodes.

212 the hollow men. not a choice i would have expected, but hey. i fucking loved that episode. much as it's hard to make sense of boyds secret evil mastermind identity, the reveal in context of this episode hits so hard and works so well for me. and the twist back around from 'boyd is evil' to- but also he still loves you guys a lot and wants to hang out forever while the world burns down around you! makes me feel so many feelings actually. clyde!whiskey is stupid hot. the mellie/paul teamup is fun until it's horribly depressing, and it makes me wistful for a timeline where these two actually did fall in love in some fashion. the chemistry is there, whether she's mellie or madeline. priya and tony coming back to save everyone- and the return of topher!tony. the hints toward tony's future with him already starting to be programmed with extra skills. the fakeout happy ending quickly followed up with an apocalyptic ten years later. everything here worked very well for me on an emotional level. echo and boyd still striking that beautiful balance of devotion, only now it is twisted and ugly. god truly just watching boyd navigate this episode, still basically acting the same way with the rest of the characters, but we see so much more in his face. there's an edge there, there's an eerie undertone. for however much this was sprung on us so suddenly, harry lennix was up to the task of selling it. he truly deserved more time to explore this aspect of the character.

#5 is more dubious and i wonder if it'll retain its top slot once i'm a little more removed from this rewatch but i'm rolling with it for now. it doesn't escape my notice that 4/5 of my top episodes heavily feature priya/tony lmao i am what i am. other top contenders- 110 haunted, 113 epitaph one, 210 the attic, 211 getting closer.

FAVORITE MOMENTS! i'm actually gonna use this slot here to talk about some of my favorite like...... ideas? things that keep bouncing around my brain? random shit!

priya/tony are the only ship that don't exist in a multiverse that perfectly fit that quote about how in every universe i will find you and i will choose you. also for years there, enver had appeared in the avengers as a young cop in modern day, and in agent carter as a war vet in the 40s. and in agents of shield dichen was an immortal inhuman we saw in both the 40s and modern day. so for literal years there i had a long running daydream about her the tragic immortal, and her love, the man constantly reincarnating. AND THEN AGENTS OF SHIELD WENT AND MADE ENVER A TIME TRAVELER WHO FELL IN LOVE WITH DICHENS DAUGHTER. I MUST LOL AT MYSELF. another impeccable ship, tho. has to be said. daisysousa5ever

the whole thread throughout 111 briar rose through 112 omega about sleeping beauty. echo telling susan to think of herself as the prince, who is fighting to save briar rose. she is both the prince and the princess. 111 making us think it is paul who is coming to save the sleeping beauty echo from the dollhouse- we even have him literally waking her up from her sleeping pod- the end of 111 revealing it was actually alpha who came to wake echo up from her doll-state and bring her back to life by making her MORE like he is- only for 112 omega to flip that entirely on its head and give us echo and caroline as two separate entities. echo given the chance to save caroline, first as a human girl trapped in the wrong body, and then on a hard drive. they kind of ruin it at the end by having paul catch the hard drive of caroline, but hey. whatever. I'M STILL SAYING ECHO AND CAROLINE ARE THE PRINCE AND PRINCESS OF THIS STORY.

i have little use for mag and zone as characters on their own merit, but that little moment in epitaph two where they ask what the other did before the apocalypse. it's something that always fascinates me in postapocalyptic content, who people were before they became an apocalypse survivor. kind of reminds me of lost in that way too.

topher v echo as progenitor of the apocalypse and the messiah respectively. adelle v boyd as parallel mentor figures. the initially villainous presenting character who eventually chooses good, ends the series trying to save humanity, and the character that initially presents as heroic, only to reveal he had evil, selfish motives all along. adelle and boyd have pretty equal parental/mentorship claims to echo and topher (tho adelle/caroline had a deeply sexual vibe i am just saying). it's just..... fascinating how they all four relate to each other. and the men both die, boyd in echo's efforts to stop the apocalypse, and topher in his own effort to END the apocalypse. echo ends her story underground, isolated and yet surrounded by (and filled with) people. adelle on the surface ready to shepherd a new flock into the light. there's just!!!!! a lot to pick apart and play with!

sort of thinking a lot about how the first time paul met topher in 111 he tased him and then alpha helped him carry topher into the office. then the second time the three of them were in that office together paul found topher on the floor, having been attacked by alpha, and lifted him onto his feet. there is SOMETHING THERE eating at my brain. and that being the like...... last act paul had as his actual original real self, pre-dollification. THINKING THOUGHTS.

multiple times characters call out how protective echo is of sierra. i want so so so much more of that. plz.

topher!tony. dominic!tony. TOPHER!TONY. GIVE ENVER AN OSCAR FOR THIS TV ROLE.

the TO REMEMBER wall of photographs. especially its appearance in epitaph one, it always makes me so weirdly emotional? that wall, the song, the pictures of cast and crew. 10/10

i'm gonna cut myself off here or i'll never shut my mouth

THANKS BABES <333