#pretty sure these are in order from most to least recent

[devilish-cherry]

ᨳ♡₊➳ jujutsu kaisen x reader

ᨳ♡₊➳ crack with plot

"You hate your job. The pay is bad, your manager is worse, and customers are somehow both entitled and clueless. Just as you finish contemplating whether unpaid breaks are a human rights violation, weird new people keep showing up to the café. They all seem to know each other. Sometimes they talk in cryptic phrases. What the hell is this domain and why do they want to expand it? One time, a man with stitches on his forehead walked in, made prolonged eye contact with you, and then left without ordering anything. You’re pretty sure he was a serial killer. Another time, the one with white hair and sunglasses indoors mentioned a "higher mission", and you’re 90% sure this is how cult documentaries start. One of your regulars only speaks in weird food-related phrases. You assume he has some kind of medical condition, but no one explains anything to you. But you are not about to ask questions, because ignorance is bliss and also job security. And unfortunately, they are all weird and they seem very interested in coming back."

꒰ masterlist ꒱ ₊⊹. ꒰ chapter 9 ꒱ ₊⊹. ꒰ chapter 11 ꒱

ᨳ♡₊➳ or read on archive of our own!

ᨳ♡₊➳ a/n: i was giggling and wheezing while writing this chapter. hope it brings you at least 1.5 giggles minimum. 🤠

It had been two whole weeks since the ominous love letter incident, and life in the café had continued its usual descent into chaos. Between Greg's complete disregard for basic managerial responsibilities and Beanie's recent 'promotion' from terrifying mascot to even more terrifying security guard, you were about two days away from joining Nanami in fantasizing about early retirement.

Beanie, ever since taking on his self-appointed role as the café's security, had become even more alarming. He spent most of his time silently looming by the door, the enormous, hollow eyes of his costume staring soullessly at any customer who dared enter. He never spoke, never removed the coffee bean suit, and yet somehow managed to exude an aura of authority so potent that Greg actively avoided looking at him.

On one memorable occasion, you'd watched Beanie calmly guide out a customer who had begun loudly ranting about the café's lack of gluten free blueberry scones, and you could've sworn the customer had tears in their eyes by the time they left. Honestly, impressive.

You had long since accepted that Beanie was just another inexplicable part of your life now. Like taxes, or the crushing weight of existential dread.

Today, business was painfully slow. Which you'd normally appreciate, but Greg had decided that today was the perfect day to loudly practice his "inspirational speeches" in the back. Which were neither inspirational nor speeches. Just loud ramblings about "the grindset" and "embracing your inner lion." Your ears were actively suffering.

Just when you thought your day couldn't possibly become more unbearable, the bell above the door jingled, signaling the arrival of customers. You didn't even bother turning immediately, savoring one last moment of peace before inevitably having your soul crushed again.

When you finally turned, your eyes met the familiar figure of Kento Nanami, impeccably dressed as always and wearing an expression of quiet suffering that mirrored your own. Beside him was someone you'd never seen before. A younger man with disheveled brown hair stuffed haphazardly under a rolled-up ski mask, worn like a beanie. He looked like he'd gotten lost on his way to a convenience store robbery. His face was open and curious, and he was looking around the café with an expression you recognized all too well: the dawning realization that this place wasn't quite right.

Nanami approached the counter first, giving you a curt nod that carried the mutual understanding of two people who had seen some shit. "Good afternoon, barista."

You returned the nod. "Hey."

He glanced over his shoulder to the younger man, who was now staring at Beanie with the horrified fascination of someone witnessing a slow motion car crash. Nanami cleared his throat. "This is Ino. He's a... colleague."

Ino snapped his head back to the counter, offering you a sheepish smile and a small wave. "Hey! Nice to meet you!"

You gave him a polite nod, mentally sizing him up. He seemed friendly, cheerful even, but you'd long since learned to distrust anyone who looked genuinely happy. It was suspicious.

"What'll it be?" you asked, adopting your standard Customer Service Voice™.

Nanami glanced briefly at the menu before sighing deeply. "Something strong enough to erase the memory of Gojo's existence."

You nodded solemnly. "Black coffee. Got it."

Ino, meanwhile, was still cautiously eyeing Beanie, looking deeply uncomfortable. "Um, Nanami, is... is that thing supposed to be security?"

Nanami did not even bother to look. "Unfortunately, yes."

"Right," Ino said slowly, visibly swallowing. "Okay, then. I'll, uh, just have an iced coffee. Thanks."

As you began preparing their drinks, you could hear snippets of their conversation. Ino sounded hesitant, a little unsure of himself, while Nanami's responses were completely blunt. It was almost entertaining.

"Nanami, why exactly did you want to come here again?" Ino asked quietly, clearly trying to keep you from overhearing.

"I didn't," Nanami replied flatly, completely disregarding any attempt at discretion. "But there's something important I need to address here."

"Something important?" Ino repeated, clearly intrigued. "What, like a cursed spi–"

Nanami immediately shushed him, glancing quickly in your direction. You pretended not to hear. Because frankly, you'd already decided you were not getting involved in whatever weird conversation they were having. Ignorance was bliss.

Once their drinks were ready, Nanami accepted his with a grateful nod, taking a sip as though your coffee was the only thing standing between him and eternal despair. Ino, meanwhile, gave you a bright smile and took a long, thoughtful sip of his iced coffee, nodding appreciatively. "Hey, this is actually really good!"

You blinked at him. "Wow. Thanks."

Nanami gave him a flat look. "Ino."

"What?" Ino asked defensively. "It's good!"

Nanami sighed. "Can we focus on the issue at hand?"

Ino straightened immediately, looking guilty. "Right. Sorry, Nanami."

You raised an eyebrow, genuinely curious despite yourself. "Issue at hand?"

Nanami exhaled heavily, setting his cup down with the solemnity of someone preparing to deliver devastating news. "It's about your... mascot."

Ah. Of course it was.

You glanced toward Beanie, who was currently standing perfectly still, facing the corner, giving off the impression of deep, existential contemplation. "Is this about the letters that I've been getting everyday?"

Ino's eyes widened. "Letters?"

Nanami frowned, puzzled. "What letters?"

"... Nevermind."

Nanami shook his head, clearly deciding he did not want that explained. "No, it's not about letters. But there have been... reports."

You squinted at him suspiciously. "Reports? From who?"

Nanami hesitated. "From... people. Yes, concerned people."

You blinked slowly, feeling your soul slipping further from your body with every second. "Okay. What's Beanie done now?"

Before Nanami could reply, Ino chimed in excitedly. "The mascot is possessed!"

Nanami closed his eyes in quiet resignation. "Ino."

"What?" Ino protested. "That's what they said! That it moves weirdly and always stares at people!"

You sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of your nose. "Beanie isn't possessed."

"Are you sure?" Ino asked earnestly. "Because it's giving me cursed vibes."

Nanami gave him a sharp look. "Stop."

Ino wilted immediately. "Sorry, Nanami."

You gave Nanami a flat look. "Look, I can't explain Beanie's entire situation. But he's harmless. Creepy, sure, but harmless."

Ino glanced nervously at Beanie again, who had moved silently to stare directly at him from across the room. "Yeah, um, harmless isn't the word I'd use."

You shrugged indifferently. "If you want to confront him, be my guest."

Ino looked horrified by the mere suggestion. "Confront it? Alone?"

Nanami, seeing an opportunity, sipped his coffee calmly. "Think of it as a chance to prove yourself, Ino."

Ino paused. Then slowly, carefully, looked at Nanami, expression one of dawning suspicion. "Wait. Is this another test?"

Nanami took a sip of his coffee, not even bothering to hide his smug satisfaction. "Perhaps."

Ino stared at him, betrayal written plainly on his face. "You tricked me."

Nanami raised an eyebrow, looking almost amused. "If you want to be a Grade 1, you'll need to learn how to handle unusual situations."

The hell was a 'Grade 1'?

Ino, shoulders slumped in defeat, sighed deeply. "I knew I shouldn't have come."

You watched this exchange with detached fascination, feeling like you'd somehow stumbled into someone else's weird drama. "You two done?"

Nanami glanced back at you, giving you a rare look of genuine sympathy. "Not quite. Unfortunately, this situation requires further investigation."

"Great," you said flatly, already regretting every life decision that had led you to this moment. "Love that."

Nanami's expression had taken a turn somewhere between grim resignation and reluctant duty, which you were now beginning to suspect was just his default face. He stared at Beanie with the same look most people reserved for car accidents or taxes.

You, meanwhile, stood behind the counter sipping an oversweetened drink you made out of boredom and emotional instability, watching them from the corner of your eye. Nanami muttered something under his breath, and Ino immediately straightened like a soldier preparing for deployment.

"I don't like that look," you said flatly.

Nanami adjusted his tie. "We'll have to handle this discreetly."

"Handle what?"

Ino looked at you like you were about to witness something noble and tragic. "You might wanna step back. This could get real intense."

You didn't move. Instead, you blinked very slowly. "Okay. Have fun LARPing, I guess."

Ino looked mildly offended. "It's not LARP, it's–"

Nanami held up a hand. "Don't."

And then they did it.

They approached Beanie like he was a final boss, slow and synchronized, while you just stood there, utterly unfazed like this was the eighth weirdest thing you'd seen this week. Which it was.

Ino suddenly pulled his beanie-mask-thing down over his face like a Power Ranger preparing to morph, then yelled, "Auspicious Beast: Kaichi!"

To be clear, you saw nothing. No spirit. No animal. No demon. Just a fully grown man crouching and pointing at Beanie like a wizard with bad aim.

Beanie didn't move. Didn't flinch. Just stared forward with those wide, stitched on cartoon eyes, unmoving. The pure silence made it worse somehow, like he was the eye of some dumb hurricane.

Nanami murmured something incomprehensible. You could tell they were pretending something was happening. Ino made a hand gesture so complex it looked like he was either casting a spell or solving a Rubik's cube. Then he crouched lower and whispered dramatically, "Nanami, he's stronger than I thought!"

From your perspective, Ino was crouching in front of a mascot, growling at it like this was a middle school improv class. Nanami stood with one arm raised, directing silent judgment at Beanie as if he was seconds away from smiting him with divine authority.

You stared blankly at them. "Are you guys okay? Do you need... electrolytes or something?"

No one responded. Beanie still hadn't moved.

Then Ino lunged forward with some sort of shout, made a slashing motion through the air that hit absolutely nothing, and staggered back with a gasp.

"He's... resisting!"

You made direct eye contact with Beanie's soulless eyes.

"I'm going to be real with you guys," you said, as Nanami stepped forward like a seasoned samurai about to deliver the final blow. "This is giving 'community theater with a budget' and I don't have the energy for it."

Nanami sliced the air in a clean motion, sharp and purposeful. You heard... nothing. Saw nothing. But Nanami's brows creased, jaw tightening. His stance faltered.

You think that was supposed to be dramatic.

"... He blocked it," Nanami muttered, in genuine disbelief.

"Yeah," you said slowly. "With what? His aura?"

Nanami said nothing. Ino stumbled back beside him, face flushed under the mask.

"We can't beat him here," Nanami said grimly. "Not without... consequences."

"I–" You held up a hand. "Are you telling me the dude in the coffee bean suit is too powerful?"

Nanami didn't answer.

Ino looked down, breathing heavily like he just lost a very emotional battle in a sports anime. "I think... he's wearing the costume to suppress his true form. That's why everyone can see him."

You blinked. "You think Beanie is sealed in his own costume?"

"It makes sense," Ino said. "Why else would he stay inside it?"

You paused. "Maybe because Greg doesn't pay him enough to come out?"

Silence.

Nanami turned back to you, brushing imaginary lint from his blazer with the solemnity of a man trying to maintain dignity after losing to a mascot.

"We'll return," he said. "He hasn't caused harm, but he's surrounded by civilians. If something were to happen–"

Nanami paused, his expression softened ever so slightly. Barely perceptible, but you caught it.

"I do worry about you," he said finally, and his tone lacked the usual deadpan gravity. "This place... is not suitable for someone like you."

Your brows rose. "Wow. Thanks. That was... weirdly kind. Are you okay?"

"I mean it," Nanami said. "You shouldn't be here."

"I agree," you said immediately. "Pay me to leave."

Nanami cracked the smallest smile. It barely counted. But it happened.

Ino peeked over his mask, eyes wide with realization. "Wait... are you two–"

Nanami turned slowly. "Ino."

Ino straightened. "Nope. Nothing. Got it."

The three of you stared back at Beanie, who had not moved once. Still standing. Still watching. Still... Beanie.

You decided to change the subject, mostly for your own sanity.

"Anyway. You guys want punch cards?"

Nanami sighed, taking his coffee and muttering something about wasted time and cursed mascots.

Ino, still looking deeply shaken, glanced one last time at Beanie, who somehow managed to stare back harder.

"I'll take one," Ino whispered. "If I survive this week... I want a head pat."

You handed it to him. "You win ten drinks, Gojo will annoy you personally."

"Oh God. Nevermind."

As they left, Nanami turned back one last time, eyes scanning your face. There was something heavy in his gaze. Concern, maybe, or guilt. You weren't sure. But before you could ask what was on his mind, he said simply, "Please... be careful."

Then he was gone.

You looked at Beanie. Beanie looked at you.

You slowly turned your punch card display around to face the wall.

"I need a vaca–"

You didn't even get the full sentence out.

Door chime.

Your soul left your body.

Because there, in the doorway, framed by morning sunlight and a total lack of shame, was Toji Fushiguro. Tall. Muscular. Broad shouldered and glistening from heat and sweat and sins long paid for and unpaid.

No shirt.

Just. No shirt.

Black martial arts pants low on his hips, a black top lazily slung over one shoulder like a fashion statement he gave up halfway through, and a look on his face that said, very clearly, "Yes, I'm hot. No, I don't care."

The scar on his lip stretched slightly as he grinned.

He walked in like gravity was optional, each step heavy and slow, like the floor should feel lucky to be stepped on. He looked around the café, unbothered by the silent horror on every customer's face, before his dark eyes landed on you behind the counter.

"Hot out," he announced flatly, like that explained the situation.

You blinked. Then blinked again.

"... You're shirtless."

"Yeah," he said slowly, like you were the weird one. "Sun's a bitch."

"You're indoors."

He shrugged, flexing about five different muscles by accident. "Takes time to cool off. Figured I'd let the AC do the work."

One of the regulars by the window coughed and turned away dramatically, their ears visibly pink. Someone dropped their phone.

You stared.

"Okay. Great. That's normal. You know this is a café, right? Like... where people eat food?"

Toji glanced around, clearly noticing the stunned looks. Then back to you. He smirked slightly.

"Not like I'm naked. Didn't see a dress code posted."

"Oh my god," you muttered, rubbing your face. "Why are attractive people always like this?"

"'Attractive people,' huh?" he echoed, clearly amused. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"It wasn't one."

"It was."

You threw a rag at his face. He caught it effortlessly, laughing low in his throat, like your frustration was the most entertaining thing he'd experienced all day. Probably was.

"You want something, or did you come here to flirt shirtlessly with the mascot?"

Toji looked over at Beanie. Beanie looked back. You could feel the tension vibrating through the air, like two people having a telepathic showdown over dominance.

"... What's with that thing?" Toji asked eventually, eyes narrowing.

You snorted. "What, are you a LARPer too? Is there a convention happening I don't know about?"

Toji tilted his head. "LARP?"

"Yeah, you know. Like Nanami and his baby intern." You gestured vaguely in the direction they'd left. "They were doing this whole weird dramatic bit with Beanie. It was like watching two Shakespearean actors in a Pokémon battle."

Toji raised a brow, scar twitching slightly at the edge of his mouth. "Huh."

"What? Are you gonna bust out a katana next and challenge Beanie to an honor duel?"

"Nah," he muttered, sauntering up to the counter like a lion in a room full of sleeping gazelles. "I don't work for free."

You eyed him. "You're not getting paid to come in shirtless either."

"Could be," he replied casually. "You hiring?"

"Not unless you wear a shirt."

"No deal."

You sighed. "Fine. You want coffee or what?"

Toji leaned against the counter, forearms flexing. You suspected it was intentional.

"What the hell were those guys earlier trying to do?" he asked.

"Nanami and his live action anime apprentice? I think they were trying to... exorcise Beanie?"

Toji barked a short laugh. "How'd that go?"

"Not great. They left. Beanie's still here. Honestly, I think Beanie won."

Toji looked again at the looming mascot figure, eyes sharpening. There was something in his gaze now. Respect? Suspicion? A flicker of anticipation?

"Think I'll stick around," he muttered. "Wanna see how this plays out."

You stared at him.

"You're shirtless."

"Still hot."

"You can't just say that."

"Did."

You rubbed your temples. "Whatever. Don't bleed on anything. Or steal anything. And for the love of all that is sacred, put a damn shirt on."

Toji just smiled, smug and completely unrepentant. "You're cute when you're mad."

Beanie shifted slightly.

Toji's smile faded, just a bit.

He was staying.

You decided not to think.

Instead, you wrote a note to yourself: "Reevaluate life choices. Again."

ᨳ♡₊➳ a/n: this chapter is 50% plot 50% me making myself laugh and hoping it lands lmao hope you enjoyed it!!

also special shoutout to one of my favorite tumblr anons and now dear friend (👾) who made the first fanart ever for this fic and they're just so CUTE. the way i gasped when i saw them?? serotonin in PNG form. pls look at these and scream with me.

thank you thank you thank you for blessing my silly little fic with your beautiful artistic abilities 😭🙏🖤

₊⊹. tag list: @luluminati @inthedarkshadows000 @isomehowexist @not-aya @emochosoluvr @lov3vivian @literallyushiwaka @kodditty @arrozyfrijoles23 @queenmimis @elizarikaallen @iloveyoucaesar @roseberry-jam @matcha-kitty13 @arrozyfrijoles23 @luckigirl444 @socutesotall

[adragonsfriend]

Dzongkha ཛོད་ག

This one is chosen for a current star wars project i have...we will see when it bears fruit (i have about 9 other languages to research before it can go forward lol). Im gonna be doing more reading, the below is my notes so far.

Dzongkha is the national language of Bhutan and is taught in schools as a second language to many, though it's not a definite majority language, as there are around 18 other languages spoken in Bhutan. It's the only indigenous language with a literary tradition (which is cool and also contributes to a disconnect between orthography and pronunciation which im pretty sure is on par with English…take that as you will lol)

Tibeto-Burman Language, uses Tibetan script (i am a big fan)

Plurals can be marked or unmarked by a suffix

Noun marked cases: Dzongkha nouns are marked for 5 cases: genitive (of: possessive, part of), locative (in/to: location, destination), ablative (from: point of separation), dative (to/for: goal, direct object) and ergative. (textbook p.103)

Types of nouns: Common nouns, Gendered nouns (masc/fem, default is masc, fem form totally changes from common), Honorific nouns (more polite, totally changed from common)

Most common methods of deriving new nouns is compounding, aka putting 2 (occasionally more) monosyllabic (free or bound) roots together

Personal pronouns have plural & singular of 1st, 2nd, 3rd masc & 3rd fem (plural is non gendered but imitates masc), 3rd honorific

Has honorific grammatical alterations/additions for speaking to people one wants to show respect to

“Dzongkha verbs inflect for tense, aspect and mood, but unlike many languages, they do not show agreement for person and number.” - no conjugation

Comparative and superlative adjectives via suffix

Base 10 numbers and base 20 number systems, (the former perhaps borrowed from Chinese?)

Long and short vowels

Low tone & high tone, mostly predictable based on consonant at start of a syllable

Vowels (VOT: voice onset time, F0: starting tone):

[ID: chart titled How the laryngeal contrast is differentiated in Dzongkha. It has two columns, Voice onset time and F0 or initial tone/pitch, corresponding to four types of consonants, aspirated, voiceless, "devoiced," and voiced. End ID]

Lots of demonstrative pronouns ala esas, estas, aquellas in Spanish, plus ones specifically for “that up/down there”

Plural nouns via a suffix added after an article, however the suffix is not obligatory to show plurality and is mainly used “in contexts where it is desirable to emphasise the

plurality of the referents or to express manifoldness (p.104)”

Post positions! - as suffixes, express adipositional info

5 copular words each translated as “to be”, fitting into two categories, equaitative/attributive & existential/attributive (p.107 textbook). Equitative (of two nouns), or attributive (adjective describes noun, presented as factual–indicative mood?) Also for equaitative/attributive, a distinction is made with two different verbs which distinguish between old/familiar and recent/new knowledge. existential/attributive…(haven't gotten to this yet)

Negative forms of copulas are entirely different words

Multiple interrogative suffixes (added to the end of the sentence to form questions), one for general questions, one for yes/no questions,

Tense via suffix? (I've encountered one example of past tense so far lol)

Possible SOV word order based on the swapped ང་ ('ngâ) and མོ་ ('mô) in the examples below? Or at least preferred SOV order. It might be free word order, given nobody seems to want to give a specific one even when i searched for that specifically. There's some casemarking so based on previous experience free word order sounds plausible? Probably later in the book.

Example: ང་གིས་མོ་སླབ་ཅི། - "I told her" and མོ་གིས་ང་སླབཅི། - "She told me"

Sources

The Grammar of Dzongkha by Karma Tshering & George van Driem (https://escholarship.org/uc/item/1h4211k0)

The Phonetic Structure of Dzongkha: A Preliminary Study (https://user.keio.ac.jp/~kawahara/pdf/22-1_Lee&Kawahara_p13.pdf)

Wikipedia (Dzongkha article)

Swarthmore wiki (Dzongkha article) (https://wikis.swarthmore.edu/ling073/Dzongkha/Grammar)

Dzongkha Typing Tutor (aka a lifesaver) (https://dztype.rigsum-it.com/DzType2.html)

Reading Random Language Grammar Books…

…in an effort to both diversify my knowledge of language and be a less boring conlanger. The languages chosen have no particular significance, and I'm making notes here as a way to hopefully remember a few features of each. I make absolutely no guarantees that my notes are accurate: these books often contain jargon I am not super familiar with and I continue not to be remotely qualified on the topic of linguistics. Corrections and complications are welcome. I am going to try and remember to include my sources. Anyway…

Uzbek

One sentence construction seems to be subject-object-verb ("U shifokor bo'ladi. - He will be a doctor."), but there also seems to be an alternate way to indicate subject, with a suffix at the end of the verb or object ("Yo'q, o'qimayapman - No, I am not reading it"). These also may both be present ("Men talabaman. - I am a student"). -man may just be a conjugation, and the subject can be dropped, but I also see it as the end of what look like nouns so I think it's more flexible than a conjugation.

"Uzbek is an agglutinative language. In this language words contain morphemes, or suffixes, that are always clearly differentiable from one another. In forming words or sentences, the morphemes are attached to the word stem one after another in a specific order. This process creates words that can be very long and can sometimes correspond to a whole sentence in English" (Nigora Azimova, p. xix). Example: "O'zbekistondanmísízlar - Are y'all from Uzbekistan?" (dan-from, mí-question, síz-you, lar-plural)

^^^ Thinking back, it seems like the creators of the Sith Language, ur-Kittât, were going for a similar way of word/sentence construction.

bor/yo'q ('to have'/'not to have') seem to be used similarly to 是/不是 are in mandarin where they are both verbs and as confirmation/negation. They seem to be multipurpose as verbs in general--bo'l seems to be an element of multiple different tenses/aspects/moods, kind of like "have" in english or "avoir" in French.

Momentary present is "is not used frequently in modern literary Uzbek, and is very rarely used in spoken Uzbek. This form occurs sometimes in the written language and in Ferghana dialects." I'm guessing this means it is more often found in older literary Uzbek? Storytelling tense that has gone out of fashion?

Actually this book makes a bunch of notes about tenses that are mostly written or mostly spoken. And there's a distinction between whether an event is witnessed by the speaker that seems like it has overlap with when you might use passive/active voice and or switch to vague pronouns in English. ("Yangi binolar qurilmoqda. - New buildings are being constructed" or They are constructing new buildings. versus "Men bir soat oldin tushlik qildim. - I had lunch one hour ago.").

mí is a suffix indicating a sentence is a question, but for more complicated questions there must be some other indicators, since mí is not present in " Qanday qilib yozuvchi bo'lgansiz? - How did you become a writer?" My guess is that gan = how-question, since it's in the same placement as i've seen mí. Correction from @tomirida: gan indicates the past tense, and qanday is the how.

Sources:

The Uzbek Tense/aspect/modality system,

UZBEK AN ELEMENTARY TEXTBOOK - introduction only

[simonz-angel]

sugardaddy simon headcanons please🙏

hii baby yknow i’ve gotchu. please tell me how i did, if i didn’t do it justice just lemme know pretty doll always happy to give it another go!! these are my personal thoughts on sugar!papa simon but yk. now enjoy babydoll, thank you for your lil request!! feel free to request any specifics!

❤︎ sugar!daddy simon who becomes your personal little shopper. who shops for you outside of you being with him. grabbing at anything from sleek dresses, to frilly, to lacy lingerie. anything he wants to see you in, he might even have a card copy of your measurements, being sure to get the best size and fit.

❤︎ sugar!daddy simon who provides you with your own little credit card. he’d found one with a 10k limit and sucked his own damn teeth, perfect. he’s more than happy to be paying it off, he’s almost disappointed you don’t hit your spending limit. but then again, you like to make your big purchases with him.

❤︎ sugar!daddy simon who sends you $200 with each pretty picture you provide. wether it’s that pretty face, an outfit for approval or the teasing ones, he’s blowing up your bank account. the more suggestive, the more you get. although it’s really just a treat, because you’ve already got more money then him at this point.

❤︎ sugar!daddy simon who stuffs $100’s in your bra before he leaves. he’d be kissing, sucking at neck, ignoring the sour taste of your perfume. and his thick fingers are digging into the crevice between soft padding and doughy skin, money crinkling as he stuffs your bra full.

❤︎ sugar!daddy simon who lets you boss him around. ordering him around in stores till he’s practically sweating running around, all the while you sit there pretty waiting for him. rolling your eyes when he takes too long, and when he at least tries to hand the bag over so you can see your most recent purchase, you scold him, “isn’t that like your job?” 🙄

❤︎ sugar!daddy simon who bullies you right back with his cock. grabbing at the nape of your neck to keep you face down in the pillow. he loves all your petty treatment, but sometimes he’s gotta tone it down. and his other hand holds tight at your waist, bending you into a deep arch, chest pressed flush to the bedding. “anything else you wanna say to me, bunny?” he laughs, but when your sharp, fresh nails slide against the back of his thighs, and your head twists, you demand. “faster, i have places to be.”

❤︎ sugar!daddy simon who gives you ultimate princess treatment. letting you sit your pretty, pussy down onto his face. you bury him practically, riding at his face, grabbing at his short, graying golden hair all while giggling. he lets his hands find home, grabbing and squeezing at your thighs, at your ass, before reaching to pinch at your peachy, nipple. his tongue works hard, but your hips work harder, he’s sure you’ll break his nose soon with the way you jump and grind, but he doesn’t think he’ll mind. 🤷‍♀️

❤︎ sugar!daddy simon who keeps a folder of all your pretty vids and pics on his phone. he likes scrolling through them in the office, grabbing at the crotch of his dress pants when they tighten up. it’s cruel the shit you send him, your sweet, small fingers playing with your clit, dipping in to the puddle of slick that accumulates as you play with yourself. and he scrolls, past over the picture of your pretty tits pushed together, before settling on one. you’re perched up onto his pillow, the one he buries his face in as he sleeps. your thick thighs straddled tight around it as you grind your bare pussy up over it. and he’s unbuckling his belt, as you’re pulling at your peaked nipples, bouncing like a little bunny as you work yourself up.

❤︎ sugar!daddy simon who provides any and everything you like. he’d do anything you ask of him, and so he’s lowering his hand. practically smearing the pretty, pink tip of his cock over the camera lens, and his wrist flicks, jerking himself off. and in the back of the camera you can see his head fall back, his lips crack open in a soft groan. and he sends the video, with a sweet (your fav) text after it. “take you out when i get home?”

hope you enjoyed again baby, i really appreciate the request, feel free to get back to me with your thoughts ❤︎

divider creds - @bernardsbendystraws

[bigwishes]

Big's Perma Bulk!

(Community Requested Story, about me perma bulking) What's good bros! It's your favourite wish granting genie here to go on my own transformation journey. Normally I send this kind of thing off to another writer but a lot of you wanted me to be transformation using my own Genie gifts so I've waved my hands and started it off.

I made sure to completely forget about what you guys wanted for me to make it even more surprising but considering all you lot drool at a bicep vein I think I'm in good hands.

After waking up I definitely didn't have anything to worry about. I knew all of you just wanted me to become some big sweaty himbo. Just take a look.

Big arms, thick thighs and a solid chest. I won't lie if I were to make a choice I would of ended up so much bigger than this but hey, it's what you all wanted to I guess I gotta get used to being a himbo stud.

Woah...I guess day two was a little different. I'm a lot bigger ladz so cheers for that but damn, some of this definition is starting to fade. It looks like I'm sliding more to the tank side of the spectrum that the stud side. I'm pretty sure if I move wrong this tank is gonna split in too and my fucking stomach won't stop rumbling, every time I walk in my kitchen I down half a box of cereal, fuck, I should probably take a couple sandwiches back to my desk before I load up some games with the boys.

'BUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRPP'

aw fuck, sorry about that ladz but damn. I woke up this morning and my stomach feels so tight, it feels like my abs are about to split in half. My shorts are so tight around my ass.

Damn what the fuck did you guys wish to happen to me? A slab of muscle instead of abs is one thing but fuck my gut is so bloated, ah man

'UURRRRRRRRRRPP!!!'

whoops, sorry dudes, fuck this is so tight but I still feel hungry, maybe a protein shake and a bowl of rice wont gut, surely this can't get any tighter.

ahhh fuck what time is it? 3am?? why the fuck am I so hungry. I didn't even know it was possible to feel hungry and bloated at the same-

BUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPPPPP

ah man, what do I have in the fridge, mmmmm half a pizza, well I'm sure a couple of slices won't hurt. I hit the gym pretty hard today, its probably my body wanting to fuel up. mmm yeah just 3 maybe 6 slices and I'll be good for the night, probably best to turn the light switch on so I don't make a mess...

w--what the fuck happened to me! JESUS FUCKING CHRIST I'M SO FUCKING BULKY, OH FUCK

UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRPPP

DAMN....fuck well....at least it doesn't jiggle, probably just bloated from how much I've been eating recently, who knew having such big muscles would make me so hungry all the time...

hmmm, I probably shouldn't leave just 3 slices of pizza in the fridge on their, own, that's not even a snack, 9 slices is alright at this time of night yeah?

On the bright side, my muscles have continued to blow up to freakish size, my bicep is bigger than most dude's heads. On the other hand....I can't shift this tank around my mid section. I've been trying to eat less to get my abs back but fuck I can't help it, my stomach growls and I gotta eat enough to feed at least 3 people or else it feels like my stomach is gonna eat itself. It's okay, Ill just cut when summer rolls around, use this time to grow as big as I can, bet my abs will look fucking insane in a few months/

Guess the bright side is I can order that nice chocolate cake with my pizza tonight...I'm pretty sure it's cheat night tonight, or was it last night? hmm, no yeah it is definitely tonight?

UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRRPPPPP

ah fuck, wh- UUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRPPPPP

what happened - uurp - to me?

a few *hic* days ago I was a lean mean lifting machine

BUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRPPPPPPPPP

and now...fuck *hic* uuurp- I'm a big, bulky brute

fuu-UUUUUUUURPPPP-ck, my gut is so tight, moving feels like a chore....I'm so fuckin stuffed and hungry at the same time. Who knew my fans would want me to blow up into a 300lsb bulky beast...

damn...I need a shower but, I could really go for a double cheese burger and a snickers protein thick shake, I'm sure it can wait -uuurrpp- maybe I should grab a couple protein bars for the road..

BUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPP!!!!

I can still feel the spell under my skin, I wonder how much bigger these guys will make me, or what else they'll do...

[tadc-harlequin-au]

New Puppet Unlocked: Pomni, the Last Harlequin!

Pomni's character description:

"Pomni" is the most recent, and last model of the Combat Harlequin series; P-1210. A Harlequin puppet who doesn't have a sense of purpose due to a broken string of commands, and thus, acts loosely based on what remains of it.

After hunting down The Puppetmaster and a duel ensues between the two, it ends with the Harlequin and The Puppetmaster forming an alliance in order to fix the destroyed City; or at least, the remaining "residents" that have succumbed to Madness. The Puppetmaster now has an ally to help him in his mission, and she gets a purpose that relates to her commands. What more could one want?

Now, Pomni spends her time sparring, sharpening her sword, bantering with the Puppetmaster, hunting down bosses and eliminating manic Marionettes. The list becomes bigger as the story progresses, and Pomni unlocks more and more secrets about herself.

Fun facts about Pomni:

She likes sandwiches. Specifically, salmon.

She REALLY hates it when someone eats it. (It's Bubble)

She finds some things annoying in other Puppets, and will be blunt about it.

But that doesn't mean she doesn't care. In fact, far from it.

Pomni may come off as cold and jerkish due to her hot-temper, but in reality, her emotions simply have ahold on her more than anyone would ever really think.

Caine thinks that a therapist would benefit her. (honestly though)

She hasn't explored any hobbies outside from anything involving combat. (yet.)

Pomni occasionally gets glimpses of visions when she dies; she is unaware of what they mean.

Pomni rarely gets drunk; she'll only indulge in alcohol when there's an occasion. Aside from that, she tends to limit Caine's alcohol intake (reasoning that he smells like booze), much to the Puppetmaster's dismay.

She shuts down any form of philosophical advices, thinking they're "typical" and "unnecessary".

She tends to be careless and rude in battle.

When push comes to shove, Pomni can and WILL use her sharp teeth to her advantage.

Pomni initially disliked Ragatha. She found the doll's positive demeanor eerie, and even uncanny, borderline inhuman. Thankfully, a few interactions and heart-heart conversations later, she's changed her mind since.

Bubble usually accompanies her when she's out on missions, a condition she had to agree on just so Caine would let her fight overburdened Puppets. Even though she hates the blimp's nonsense, she knows that his presence is out of necessity, since Bubble is the only way keeping in touch can be possible.

She initially started off rarely ever apologizing. In fact, Caine would've been lucky to have a simple acknowledgement from her.

She once stole Caine's cane to try and figure out how his attacks work. She immediately lost interest once she found out it's just a plain, and boring metal cane.

She unlocks the first stage of enlightenment after the fifth boss.

Quotes:

"Yeah, yeah, shut up."

"I didn't come here just for you to act like a wuss!"

"You. Me. This sword. In your head."

"That was pretty stupid of you to do."

"Between you and me, I prefer still having my head on my shoulders."

"This is getting annoying!"

"I've had it with you idiots!"

"I'm gonna celebrate with a Puppet head kebab once I'm done."

"I like the sounds of a sword slashing, and heads bashed in."

"Keep (talking/screaming), and I'll crack your skull open."

"Ah! What the fuck!"

"You're gonna pay for that!"

"Eye for an eye, motherfucker!"

"I normally wouldn't mind... Actually, I always mind."

"When I'm done, you're gonna be unrecognizable."

"Fucking marionettes!"

"Useless scrap!"

"I really, really, REALLY wanna hurt you right about now."

"Ohohoho, you're picking the WRONG fight, BUDDY."

"Asshat!"

"Who do you think you are!?"

"Are you sure this is even safe?"

"DO THAT AGAIN AND I SWEAR I'LL KICK YOUR ASS ALL ACROSS THIS DAMNED CITY"

"HA! IN YOUR STUPID LITTLE BLIMP FACE!"

“You can’t be serious. Me? Tone it down? I’m a Puppet DESIGNED to fight. My entire purpose IS to fight. I don’t tone down anything, for anyone. Don’t forget, we might be familiar with each other now, but we’re still only getting along because you’re giving me targets.”

[orimuraa]

ᯓ ✈︎ XO, call me - OT7

꒰ 𝔖𝘺𝘯𝘰𝘱𝘴𝘪𝘴 ꒱┆enhypen as your airport crush ⨾

۶ৎ ot7!enhypen x fem!reader ┆fluff┆airport crush au┆heerisma, jayrisma, jakerisma, rizzhoon, sunrisma, rizzwon, and rizzki┆ wc 1.5k

⤷ 𝐲𝐞𝐣𝐢’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: i got this prompt randomly and i thought it was really cute so i wanted to write abt it! this is a longer ot7 fic so i hope you enjoy! reblogs and feedback are always appreciated!!

꒰ঌ ℬℴℴ𝓀𝓈𝒽ℯ𝓁𝒻 ໒꒱

𝑳𝒆𝒆 𝑯𝒆𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒖𝒏𝒈 - 이희승

you were just on your way back from a recent trip to paris when you him—the most gorgeous man you have ever had the pleasure of laying your eyes on. the way his hair fell perfectly, framing his face, and how he was dressed so casual yet he looked so good. the headphones that hung around his neck added an extra touch to his vibe, making you fall instantly for him. but as soon as he caught your gaze, you felt your cheeks start to heat up, your whole body feeling very hot all of the sudden.

he takes a second to realize you were staring at him before smirking, casually making his way over to you. before you can process the situation, he’s right in front of you writing on a piece of paper. “call me,” he whispers into your ear, slipping the paper into your pocket. as he walks away, you see that grin of his before he’s walking off to his gate. oh, you’d be such a fool to not call an angel like him.

𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝑱𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒔𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒈 - 박종성

the airport was bustling all around you and it was practically impossible to make your way over to your gate with how many people there were. but that’s when you bumped into him—a man so gorgeous, you felt unworthy to even be looking at him. “oh- i’m so sorry!” you manage to squeak out, immediately backing away and bowing to him. but he just chuckles, and god damn is it the most attractive laugh you’ve ever heard. “don’t worry! there’s so many people in this airport, it’s dangerous for a pretty lady like you to be all alone,” he winks, laughing at his cliché words. “here, let me walk you to your gate.” he smiles. and who are you to say no to such a kind gentleman.

once you arrive at your gate, you turn to thank the handsome man. “thank you, and i’m so sorry again for bumping into you,” you bow, the embarrassing memory coming back. “ahh~ don’t worry about it. you can repay me by calling me,” he winks. at first, you’re confused, but when he slides a piece of paper into your hand, you understand. and with that, he walks away with a part of your heart.

𝑺𝒊𝒎 𝑱𝒂𝒆𝒚𝒖𝒏 - 심재윤

it was finally summer, meaning you’re vacation to australia was also finally here. as you were sitting by your gate, you noticed someone sit down next to you. curious, you looked over at the person and your jaw dropped when you saw him. his hair was a little ruffled but it added to his look. he had the most gorgeous face and you were sure that leonardo de vinci shaped it himself. you felt your cheeks heat up the more you stared at him—despite feeling a little creepy staring so intensely at a complete stranger. “hey, if you’re gonna stare, at least gimme your number,” he smirks, a thick accent mixed in with his words.

flustered, you quickly look back down at your lap, contemplating your whole life. “hey, i’m just teasing. but if you don’t mind, i would like to give you my number,” he smiles sweetly. “i think you’re really cute.” and oh god, your heart does a whole backflip. “y-yeah, of course!” you nervously stutter, scrambling to fish out a piece of paper. handing him your number, he thanks you, standing up and promising to call you. you’re summer can’t get any better than this.

𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝑺𝒖𝒏𝒈𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒏 - 박성훈

you were sat at a small table inside of a cafe in the airport when the door jingled, indicating that someone else had come in. naturally, your eyes made their way over to the person who came in, who was now ordering at the counter. but oh gosh, when he turned around, you were absolutely star stuck. his visuals were insane and he looked so good in that black, leather jacket that you couldn't help but stare a lot little at him. but soon, his sharp gaze caught yours and you never looked away so fast. however, doing so, you failed to see the smirk on his lips as he took a sip of his coffee, still staring at you.

you don't exactly know how much time passed, but you wanted to just see if he was still there. glancing over your shoulder to where he was, you see that it is now empty, no random, handsome man in sight. sighing, you take your last sip of you drink before standing up and gathering your luggage. but before you can leave, a worker calls out to you, stopping you in your tracks. "a man told me to give this to you before you left," she explains, handing you a small slip of paper. you thank her and walk out, curiously opening the paper. couldn't help but stare, huh? well, i can't let such a pretty face go without giving you my number ;) xxx-xxx-xxxx -call me XOXO.

𝑲𝒊𝒎 𝑺𝒖𝒏𝒐𝒐 - 김선우

as you were browsing around the duty free section of the airport, you happen to pass by a gorgeous, gorgeous man. his features reminded you much of a fox's and it made his appearance so striking. his hair was jet black and pushed up and out of his face, revealing his forehead minus a couple of loose strands. he had small freckles adorned on his cheeks and nose, making all the more perfect. you must've been staring for some time because when you finally came to your senses, he was staring right at you, a warm smile on his lips. you watch as he slowly strides towards you, unable to move your feet nor think completely straight. "hi! i noticed you staring and i thought you were really pretty so i wanted to come and chat with you!" his voice is so soft and sweet that you almost miss what he says completely, focusing more on his voice than his words. "oh- i'm so sorry about that, i just thought you were so handsome and.." you flush, catching yourself before you ramble on.

"wahh~ thank you! if you didn't mind, i would maybe like to give you my number? maybe we can get to know each other," he smile never faltering. gosh, you admired his bravery. "yeah of course! here it's xxx-xxx-xxxx," you blush, in shock that you got such a handsome man's number. "then i'll see you around!" he winks, turning on his heel and walking out. "see you.."

𝒀𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝑱𝒖𝒏𝒈𝒘𝒐𝒏 - 양정원

people were rushing past you, trying to get to their gates in time but you were taking your sweet time. you made sure to get to the airport early so you weren't rushing whatsoever. but now, you were kinda regretting it as you had nothing to do for the next 2 hours while you waited for your flight. you were walking around, casually window shopping, when your eyes caught a very handsome guy. he had the cutest pair of dimples and his hair was dyed blonde and waved perfectly. he was dressed casually but you have never seen someone pull off a sweatshirt and cargo pants like this man has.

he see's you staring at him ominously, and walks over to you, a small smile on his lips the whole time. internally you start to panic because why is such a hot guy walking towards you right now when you probably looked like you just rolled out of bed. "caught ya. here's my number just in case you want it," he smirks handing you a piece of paper which you gladly accept. and within a blink of an eye, he's gone, almost as if he was all in your imagination. but the paper in your hand proves that wrong.

𝑵𝒊𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒎𝒖𝒓𝒂 𝑹𝒊𝒌𝒊 - 西村 力

currently, you were sitting across from the hottest man you have ever seen and you were attempting to steal glances at him while also being nonchalant. he was dressed in a pair of loose cargo pants and a baggy white tee that defined his figure so well. his ears were adorned with silver rings and studs while his fingers had simple rings on them. he had a couple delicately placed moles on his face and features that told you he was from abroad. he was your perfect definition of "airport crush" and you weren't complaining one bit. however, when your eyes met momentarily, you suddenly felt hot and flustered as he continued to stare at you. a small smirk adorned his lips and you heard him let out a small chuckle before reaching in his bag for something.

you keep your head down, deciding that you've had enough of your fun for today. that is until a deep voice in front of you clears his throat, causing you to look up at the source. "o-oh, hi there," you blush, feeling your ears heat up again once you catch his eyes. "here, i noticed you staring and thought that you might want this," he drops a note in your lap before walking away, a satisfied smile on his lips. you're cute, give me a call when you can :) xxx-xxx-xxxx p.s. you should work on your staring, people will find it impolite.

𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬: @en-diaries, @k-films, @k-nets

⚘. Perm taglist: @vmpivory, @yuvany, @seozii, @pinknjm, @greentulip, @jomisu, @nxzz-skz, @ancnymcnzjy

[audliminal]

Survivability Bias Pt 2

Masterpost - Ao3

Danny spends the next few days exploring the town more, while he considers the implications of everything he’d learned  at the library. He’d taken notes, but they’re not exactly the best. Danny’s never been that good at taking notes, after all, but he has a pretty good memory, so the various key words and few quotes he’d scribbled down are plenty useful in reminding him of all the wild shit he’d read about.

There’d been a lot of history involved in the whole meta situation. It seems like these so-called meta humans, and various other races (species? Danny doesn’t know nearly enough about the cultural implications of that) have been around long enough to have had a significant impact on the world at large. And yet, at the same time, there really hadn’t been a lot of personal information on any of the heroes. Oh, there’d been plenty on some of the villains - and of course there’d still be villains here, he’s not lucky enough to escape that - but aside from various speculation about their romantic lives, and a few acknowledgements of family ties here and there, there’d been very few details about where most of them actually came from.

Superman, for example (he seemed to be this world’s go-to example of metas and superheroes), is listed as being an alien, who’s powers come from his biologies unique interaction with this planet’s atmosphere, although it doesn’t explain anything about what that means. Interestingly, there seems to be almost no speculation about Superman’s so-called secret identity. Only about half the listed heroes seem to have one according to the public, but Danny knows that song and dance too well to fall for it. Honestly, they’re even more likely to have a secret identity than Danny himself, seeing as Danny’s alter ego is literally dead. Not that ghosts seem to be much of a thing here.

He’d felt so silly looking up information about ghosts, right before leaving the library. Compared to the deep dive into recent history, googling “are ghosts real” must have looked insane if anybody could see it. The answer he’d returned had been not unlike the way things had been when he was ten or twelve. Before the portal, you’d see dumb ghost hunter shows where they never actually saw much of anything. Ghosts were, like, poltergeists that moved your furniture around and slammed the doors shut. The results here had been a little more interesting - clearly in a world where superheroes are a fact of life, fantastical stuff is a little more rational, and the speculation was clearly affected by that fact, but it still had been, seemingly, all speculation.

Of course, none of that really mattered when it came to Superman. Danny was at least ninety percent sure he wasn’t a ghost. And even if he somehow was, it didn’t change the fact that he either has a secret identity, or he basically never takes part in society. And if he doesn’t have a secret identity, then the question very much becomes why not. Because that means he either has no real reason to care about anyone here (which seems implausible), or he’s unable to spend that time in public. It’s that possibility that’s knocked out any chance of Danny approaching any of the heroes. Because there’s always the possibility that the endorsed heroes are being used to lure other metahumans in. And Danny doesn’t know nearly enough about this world to make any kind of judgment on what’s most likely here. After all, historically there’s plenty of examples of governments that  work with specific people among targeted groups, in order to more successfully take out the others. it tends not to end well for those people when it’s all over, but anyone who’s short-sighted or even just backed into a wall enough can fall for that.

Hell, the GIW had actually tried that line on Danny once or twice, not that he’d ever accepted. After all, they’d never realized that was actually sort of alive, so their pitches had always been... less than convincing. 

Danny blinks, reaching out to touch the brick wall in front of him. He hadn’t meant to come back here, but honestly at this point, he really shouldn’t be surprised. This random little alley on side street wouldn’t be interesting at all to anyone else. But if Danny stares long enough, he can almost see the green-tinged light of the portal that brought him here. Not that he’d ever seen the portal from this side. He hadn’t turned to look until after the light had faded. The idea of seeing his friends’ faces through the swirling green had been too much.

They had all known exactly what it meant when he came here. The difficulty of the journey was the point. Between the anti-ecto acts gaining not just mainstream awareness, but support, and the GIW gaining access to better funding and training, well, the second the GIW had started successfully ending ghosts, it seemed like all the denizens of the zone had collectively decided to stay the fuck home.

At first Danny had enjoyed it, had relaxed and been excited to finally be able to focus on just being a teen. But the GIW hadn’t calmed down, had just started going even more on the offensive, and the second he and Jazz had noticed agents showing up casually at their house, everyone had gone into full alert.

That’s how they found out that the next goal was to apparently take the fight to the zone itself.

The conclusion had been easy from that point. The portal needed to be destroyed, and fast. But with the ghost zone blocked off (and Danny’s death being the unknowing link that made the portal ever work in the first place), that would leave Danny as one of three remaining targets.

They’d all immediately agreed that Vlad could figure out his own solution. Dani- well, she had been traveling, but the second she turned up, the others had made plans to send her on her own one way portal trip too.

Of course, the likelihood that she’d end up here is probably minuscule. So he’s alone.

“Hey,” a stern voice cuts through Danny’s thoughts. He glances over to the person who’s standing at the door to a building. “There’s no loitering here.”

Right. It’s almost easy to forget, in the face of his life’s inescapable absurdity, that to everyone else in this town, he just seems like a possibly-homeless delinquent. Not that the delinquent part is unfamiliar.

“Sorry,” Danny mutters belatedly, realizing that the person is just waiting as he stares at them like a weirdo. He’s not very good with people anymore. Not that he was that good to begin with. Phantom had been a Ghostly Menace, constantly destroying the town with his fights, nobody had expected him to function as a person. Nobody had thought he was a person. But as Danny Fenton- well, he’d fallen short of just about every expectation set at Danny Fenton’s feet.

Distantly he wonders if his friends even bothered to disguise his disappearance. He’d always kind of wondered if his parents would ever notice if he and Jazz just- left. School definitely noticed, though most of the faculty would probably take it as completely expected. After all Danny Fenton was a terrible student, constantly skipping class and never doing his work, and even when he was in class he was usually halfway to falling asleep anyways. Lancer had certainly lectured him about his lack of discipline more than enough. So they might just come to the conclusion that he’d dropped out and run away.

He doesn’t know if he’d prefer that, honestly. The truth is messed up and complicated and frankly, unbelievable. But maybe if they knew the truth at least one person might feel a fraction of sympathy for all the bullshit that he’d been dealing with. Funny, Danny thinks, how coming here feels more like a death than when I actually died.

[moonstruckme]

hi! i was wondering if you could make some more bartender!sirius x reader stories! anything works really! i love love love your writing 💞

Thanks for requesting ml!

cw: attempted sa, police are called (but don't worry, everything is fine)

bartender!Sirius x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

Sirius isn’t ashamed to say he’s had his eye on you tonight. You’re a sweet-looking thing, with sparkly eyes and a big, genuine smile that you’d beamed right at him as you ordered your drink. You got your first couple from Marlene, but most recently you came up to him. You’d leaned your elbows on the bar, looked at him with those lovely eyes, and said all the pleases and thank yous and may Is that always make Sirius want to climb over the counter and hug the customers who use them. He'd have comped your drink if you weren’t clearly here with someone else. 

And that someone else seems to be infatuated with you. Appropriately so, Sirius thinks. He takes your hand to lead you over to a couch along the wall, and he nods so eagerly while you speak that it looks like his head is on a spring, and when you turn to look at something he’s pointed out he reaches over and—

“Hey!” 

Several heads turn at Sirius’ shout, but the important part is that yours does. Not before your lips close around the straw of your drink, though. Sirius doesn’t have to work to convey urgency in his expression—that comes quite naturally. He waves his hand to beckon you back to the bar.

You obey, not looking upset but rather tentative as you make your way through the crowd. Your date stands with you, but something in Sirius’ face must tip him off. He disappears towards the exit. Sirius wants to go after him and strangle the bloke with his own two hands, but he’ll have to worry about that later. 

“Don’t drink that,” he says once he thinks you’re within earshot. 

You’re not, evidently. “What?” 

“Give it here.” Sirius leans across the bar, reaching for your drink. It’s only the caution in your expression that reminds him to say, “Please.” 

You hand it over, eyebrows raising when he brings it behind the bar and immediately pours it into the sink. 

“Erm…am I going to be refunded for that?” 

Sirius shakes his head, but managing a breathless, frazzled, “Yeah.” 

He feels so far out of his depth. Nothing like this has ever happened during one of his shifts—at least, fuck, not that he knows of. Sirius isn’t sure what he’s supposed to do. 

He starts by looking you in the eyes. “The bloke you were with put something in your drink.” 

Your lips part, brows twitching together. “What? No, he…” You turn your head, clearly expecting your date to be right behind you. Sirius watches your face change as you realize he’s nowhere to be seen. 

When you turn back to him, he can see the beginnings of fear in your gaze. His hand makes its way across the bar of its own accord, squeezing your wrist before tugging you gently towards the nearest barstool. 

“I saw it happen,” he says firmly. “Do you want to sit here with me for a bit?” 

“I don’t…yeah, please.” You look dazed. Understandably dazed, in Sirius’ opinion. You slide onto the stool and slouch to rest your elbows on the bar. “I don’t feel any different. I only had a sip.” 

“It might not be enough to do anything,” he agrees. “I’m not sure, honestly. But it’s probably a good idea for you not to be alone just in case, yeah?” 

You nod hesitantly. Sirius strokes a short line into the inside of your wrist, and when you look up at him those pretty eyes are wet. 

“I’m already drunk,” you say, quietly, your voice on the edge of breaking. “How am I s’posed to know if it’s working?” 

“I’m sure you’d know,” says Sirius, though honestly he’s not very sure of that himself. Guys don’t learn much about these things, not the way girls have to. “You’re alright, darling. We’ll take care of you up here, you’re totally safe. Do you mind if I phone the police?” 

Your eyes widen to glossy saucers, the true gravity of your situation seeming to sink in. 

“It’s just standard procedure,” he adds quickly. 

“Right.” You blink, sniffling. “Um, sure.” 

“Beautiful.” Sirius shoots you a smile. “Be right back. Marl,” he gets his coworker’s attention, “keep an eye on her, yeah?” 

Marlene looks confused and then intrigued as she spots you weeping at the other end of the bar, but she makes her way to you. 

Sirius’ call with the police is brief. They make him regret tossing out your drink before it could be tested, but they tell him to keep you at the bar and they’ll be there soon to question you. When he goes back inside, you look far better than he’d left you, face tearstained but dry and nursing what looks to be a plain coke topped by a mountain of cherries. 

“Blimey, did you ask for extra?” Sirius asks, taking his place in front of you. Marlene, helping a customer at the other end of the bar, shoots him a grimace that lets him know you’ve told her what happened. 

“I asked for a few,” you say, picking one of your cherries up by the stem and popping it in your mouth. “I think she feels bad for me.” 

Sirius laughs. “No, Marlene doesn’t feel bad for anyone. She probably just likes you.” 

“Really?”

“Yup. Almost as much as she hates our manager.” He winks at you. “Her latest plot is to rob him blind by way of bar napkins and maraschino cherries. But you didn’t hear that from me.” 

Your lips twitch into something dangerously close to a smile. You draw a line across them, pretending to zip them shut. 

“So,” you say, looking down to fish another cherry from your glass, “did you give the police my regards?”

Sirius smiles at your forehead. “I did. They said it’s been far too long, and they’d like to come here to chat with you themselves.” 

You huff a laugh. “That’s funny, you’d think they’d’ve gotten their fill of me when I was in the nick last week.” 

Sirius laughs, delighted. 

You look up with a wry smile. “Kidding,” you whisper. 

“Oh, I’m so disappointed.” He props his chin on his hand, letting his head loll to the side. “And here I was thinking you were a rebel outside the law.” 

You shrug, smile fading as the melancholy turn your night has taken seems to take you under again. “Sorry to lead you astray,” you say anyway. 

“No, don’t worry about it.” Sirius studies you. You look understandably worried, a tad wistful too, but still that same sweet girl who’d come up to order from him at the bar. “If you are concerned about the cops catching onto your jailbird alter-ego, I could always stay with you when they get here. If you want company.” 

Your expression melts into gratitude, the fretful line of your brow softening and your eyes filling with relief. They start to go shiny again. “That would be great,” you say. “Thank you.” 

“Don’t worry about it, doll.” Sirius reaches across the bar, giving your hand an awkward pat. “Just don’t cry again, please? It kills me a little bit.”

[cloveroctobers]

HOW THEY DEAL WITH DISRESPECTFUL NEIGHBORS — MULTI [Summer Preferences]

A/N: thanks for voting on my poll, which I already knew who was going to win that but I still wanted to do a preference anyway since I never got around to writing what I originally wanted for my other characters on my summer prompt list rip to that idea! I’m writing in the order of which was voted from most to least highest minus one character.

WARNINGS: language, violence is sometimes the answer 🤭 + FC changed for Mikey due to recent news unfortunately, *GIF DOES NOT BELONG TO ME, not here to argue with anyone that feels different and you’re always welcome to keep imagining JB or simply do not engage with this.

<- read my previous summer anthology prompt here.

࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪

~ARMANDO~

He doesn’t take disrespect lightly.

The both of you lived just fine in your condo out in Miami, although Armando preferred the privacy more than anything he just kept this to the back of his mind that he was going to provide for your dream house together. Having your four year old daughter, Isaura only gave him more drive to get out of here.

The neighbors that lived on the floor directly above you, were all wide smiles and friendly making it their special job to try and introduce themselves to whoever they caught. They found you three at the pool one Sunday evening before dinner. Armando immediately felt they were weird telling you later that night in bed beside you, “they look like they eat people.”

“Armando!” You scolded as you slipped a bonnet on a half sleep Isaura, “they do but maybe they’re just the over friendly type.”

Armando sucked his teeth as he reached around you to snatch the sleepy toddler into his chest, “niña, can you say oblivious? tell mama that’s exactly what she is.”

Isaura just shifted her head looking away from the both of you.

“See, even your own daughter doesn’t want to listen to your mess. Give me my baby back so I can put her down,” you waved your fingers while Armando swings his legs to the edge of the bed.

He shifts the tiny girl against him and shakes his head, “nah, I got it. Got to make sure the fucken weirdos aren’t hiding in her room since you don’t want to believe me.”

“Hey, watch your mouth!” You lecture while Armando rolls his eyes, peeking down to see if Isaura even budged at his foul language before you continued, “I don’t know what goes in your mind sometimes,” you sigh with a shake of your head as Armando makes his way to the door, “…now you know I’m going to be up half the night checking on her.”

“Don’t worry about it, daddy’s gonna take the daybed just in case.”

Frowning you respond, “So you’re just going to abandon me?”

Armando snorts, “there’s enough of me to go around but if you wanna stay hold up in here by yourself, when we have the hills have eyes lurking from the floor above, that’s on you.”

“Bastard.” You muttered just as Armando was about to shut the door.

“What was that, mami?”

“I said I’m getting my neck pillow.” You answered as Armando laughs to himself, leaving the door open just a crack before carrying on down the hallway.

Armando would peep the disrespect more than you would but mostly on separate occasions. First it started with the husband constantly taking Armando’s assigned parking spot with one of his many cars, he would always turn up right when Armando had to circle around to take someone else’s, and when he was face to face with the husband’s false apologies and story about how he had to keep his monster truck locked away in storage thirty minutes away from the building, yet he always decided to take it out when Armando worked late nights…which was pretty convenient if you asked Armando.

Then you would tell Armando how the wife would make…interesting comments about how many more kids you two planned to have. “Hopefully a soccer team with your good looks!” She would laugh as she gripped your wrist. She would also ask: How you two managed to have free time with a four year old and if she was receiving enough attention between the two of you? That last question was off putting because why was this woman worrying about your child? Then if you listened closely enough, around the time it was time for Isaura’s nap or bedtime, whether Mike, Marcus and his family, or your best friend or family were watching her while the both of you were at work, the couple would decide to either start salsa lessons (according to the wife, Amy) which ended up turning into salsa lessons with no clothes directly on the floor, the husband winked at Armando who was not the least bit impressed.

“I think it’s common courtesy that you two learn to keep it down for not only us who have a child…who also has a routine but for your other neighbors as well. I’m sure there’s plenty of classes out in town you two can get into outside of this building.” You hinted to them.

“Oh sorry! I told Kit we were being too loud, see honey?!” She weakly slaps the wannabe WWE star against his buff chest, “We’ll definitely keep everyone more in mind this time, again sorry about that.” Amy apologizes.

“A man has needs though, am I right?” Kit would laugh, clapping his hand down on Armando’s shoulder who peeked at it, wondering why this man was so comfortable touching him.

Armando sniffed, “and you need to have some respect is all that we’re saying. Along with removing your hand from me.”

“Hey now! No need for the animosity, we’re all friends here neighbor!” Kit says as he applies a little more pressure on his hold of Armando’s shoulder but that only causes Armando to darken his stare.

Even Armando knew that statement was fake. Next thing he knows, when he’s heading out to work the morning after, he’s got a broken side mirror on the driver’s side and a large scratch on the passenger door with Kit’s car—that’s usually parked to the right of Armando’s—already gone for the day. Armando doesn’t take long to assess the situation, jaw tight as he looks around the garage for where exactly the cameras are. He would be hacking those as soon as he clocked in and didn’t give a damn who had something to say about it. He ended up calling you on the way to work, thanks to him phoning Dorn to carpool—him and Kelly had a disagreement so she drove to work on her own—to tell you exactly what happened since it was one of those days where you clocked in earlier than he did.

“I’ll try and keep him from doing something stupid.” Dorn calls out to you from the driver’s side.

You whisper as you stepped out briefly from working with a client as an aesthetician, “would you? I know it’ll be hard—

“I’m right here.” Armando reminded, “I’m done dealing with their creepy asses, Kit better hope I don’t see him when I get home tonight because his ass might turn up missing.”

You didn’t even argue because once Armando had something made up in his mind, it was hard for him to ever see another perspective. Also you didn’t doubt that Kit had something to do with it.

The last straw was when Kit and Amy’s German shepherd nipped towards Isaura’s face, when you had a minor confrontation with Amy, who you ran into while out shopping. She tried to sweep over the fact that she admitted to wishing that it was Armando on top of her instead of her actual husband and that it wasn’t a big deal because Kit was doing the same with you. Not only did she fix her mouth to say that, she also said she thought about what a kid would look like with her looks and Armando’s. “There’s nothing wrong with daydreaming.”

She said and it felt like she had spit in your face at how wicked her smile was on her overfilled lips. Again she was too close in your space but once Isaura ripped a cry so loud below along with the sounds of snarling from Amy’s dog, you didn’t hesitate to pull your child up into your arms and to kick at the dog.

“What’s wrong with you?!” Amy yelled pulling on her pet’s leash, “He’s just an animal!”

“An animal who tried to bite my kid’s face off! You’re lucky my foot didn’t connect but next time my fist won’t miss yours.”

“Are you threatening me?!”

“It’s not a threat, It’s a promise.” You concluded, “Stay away from my family if you know what’s good for you.”

“Excuse me? What does that mean?” Amy kept a tight hold on the leash now, “These are the things Kit and I get for being good neighbors?!”

You stopped in your tracks as you turned to give Amy one last look while you cradled a scared Isaura to your chest, “it means exactly what you think it means. Y’all keep saying your good neighbors but is that in the building with us or in your sick delusions? I’m warning you Amy, back the fuck off or you’ll really be sorry.”

Amy sticks her nose up in the air, “my uncle is the best lawyer in the city. If you’re thinking about harming my family then I’ll sue both of you so hard that little Laura will have no choice but to have a new family. Kit and I have been trying for months for a little one and Laura is the cutest thing.”

Laughing you found it hilarious that Amy thought she could continue to try you with her mind games. She really didn’t know who she was fucking with.

“I can guarantee that your uncle doesn’t have shit on my man. Also my father-in-law is a pretty good detective and he’s already heard about you two, just waiting for the word. The difference between you and I, is that I love only one man. And sweetie, it’s no competition when I’ve already won. Now you enjoy the rest of your day…before it expires.” It was your turn to send her a sickeningly charming smile as you spun back on your heels.

Leaving her like a gapping fish, you make your way back to your car, strapping Issy in with another caress to her face, quadruple checking that the dog didn’t do anything to her face and handing Issy one of her toys to cuddle with on the way back home. As you started your engine, you immediately called Armando through the car’s Bluetooth before pulling off from the curb.

It’s game night when there’s a knock on the door. Since Armando is helping Issy with the game piece on the game board, you push off the couch to get the door.

“Oh hi!” You greet, which makes Armando also move to get to his feet.

“We’re your new neighbors on the floor above who just moved in and we wanted to say thanks for the blueberry crumble and bottle of wine you sent our way, you really didn’t have to do that! We just thought it would be the kind thing to find the time to come down and introduce ourselves.” The woman speaks first with her hand held out.

You grasp her hand with a warm smile as you say, “mostly everyone is to themselves here but we got…pretty close with our old neighbors and my boyfriend, Armando and I thought we’d keep the tradition going.”

Armando gives a short wave at the two new faces as he stands beside you now, “hello,” he addresses the two while he bounces a giggly Issy on his hip.

“Aw, she’s so precious! Isn’t she, Steven?” The girl at the door elbows the guy beside her.

You take in her expression carefully, “do you two have any kids?”

She jabbed a thumb at the taller man, “Oh I’ll leave that all to my brother here.”

“I don’t have any…at least no one’s ever told me anything.” He nonchalantly shrugged while he looked off in thought up from his phone, while his sister rolls her eyes at him.

Armando snickers, which makes you quirk up a brow at him.

“Do you guys know where the other tenants moved off to? The agent says it was pretty abrupt but we got a steal on most of their furniture.” The young girl chats.

Armando speaks up, “heard they really wanted to explore more of Europe…guess Miami living inspired them to see what else the world has to offer.”

“Sweet,” Steven nods, “that would be a dream.”

“That is what they say life is,” Armando adds as he sends a quick wink to you while you lightly shake your head at him. He then slips an arm around your waist appearing as a Kodak moment to the siblings outside the door, “but welcome to the neighborhood you two, I’ve got a feelin’ you’ll be good neighbors.”

In short: he eliminates the problem.

~RIO~

He had been away on a business trip when he gets back home earlier than expected. He likes to do this sometimes, liking to surprise you with his pop-in’s—take that how you will. What he wasn’t expecting was his ex sitting in the sitting room with you, the two of you chatting to the right of the home from the foyer over a bottle of tequila.

“…so the hell are you gonna tell lollipop king?”

“Girl, who?”

“You know his name, Christopher!”

You laugh followed by a groan, “he’ll find out sooner than later since old man Stewart and him are practically golfing buddies who act like they don’t gossip.”

Rio used that moment to clear his throat from his leaned position against the doorway. He didn’t like how your guard was down as he just lingered there, you slouched on the couch and Rhea balled up in one of the living chairs but that was another conversation. He needed to know just what you were hiding from him and now.

“Tell me what, mama?” Rio rasped, hands clasped in front of him.

Rhea’s mouth formed into an O-shape, getting ready to collect her things but Rio cuts his eyes at the short haired woman too, “nah, you don’t gotta leave on my account.”

“Believe me I’m not,” Rhea sassed as she collected her square glass and the almost empty bottle, “I’m going to check on our son while you guys—debrief.”

You gasped, “this involves you too, you know?!”

“I don’t live here!”

“Could have fooled me.” Rio adds as Rhea makes her way by him, bumping her shoulder with his.

Rio just snorts as the woman heads across the hall towards the side entrance of the kitchen. When he sets his eyes back on you, he watched as you used one of your hands to pinch in between your brows as you pulled your bottom lip into your mouth. The buzzed haired man then plops down beside you, lolling his head to meet your gaze but you just quickly down the rest of your drink.

“What’s going on?” Rio questions.

You exhale, “oh nothing much, it’s good to see you though!”

“You’re tipsy on a Wednesday afternoon and not on wine…something’s up?” Rio analyzed you pretty quick, which was to be expected.

Exhaling you close your eyes, thinking if maybe you just dozed off then Rio would leave you alone and Rhea would sneak out with Marcus out the back. You knew that was a slim chance since that boy loved his father a lot and would want to see him before heading back home with his mom.

Your eyes were widened as Rio gripped your bandaged hand, making you wince as he did so. You were hoping that he wouldn’t notice but you couldn’t be that much of a fool, not when it came to your husband.

“I’m going to ask only one more time before I start looking for answers myself, so tell me what happened?” Rio quizzes one last time.

Sighing you meet Rio’s eyes as you tell him, “Polly’s mother is visiting and she started shit with Marcus while he was outside playing in the front yard. I was bringing the plants from the garage up front when this all happened but Stewart saw it happening from his window and came out before I got up front. I handled it, she got HOA involved, and now apparently there’s a meeting on Saturday morning.”

The shift in Rio was instant as he sat up, still holding your hand in his lap, “she don’t even live here and she thinks she can say something to the kid? Did she do this to your hand? Give me the details, mama.”

And so you did. You told him how Marcus was running around out front keeping himself entertained while you were dragging the outdoor plants that you thought would look nice in the backyard up front from the garage. It took some time for you to pick up on the yelling, making the palm of your hand get impaled by one of agave leaves that you tossed to the ground at the familiar rebuttal of Marcus’ voice. Your instincts kicked in even if your hand bled like crazy and hurt like hell, you didn’t take kindly to strangers screaming at kids.

You were once an elementary school teacher before becoming a housewife to Rio. There was always a certain way that you needed to speak to people, especially kids and you weren’t having it with Polly’s mother who always visited in the summer. Polly was cool, even her mother-in-law was tolerable (although she was a yapper) but you just didn’t understand how someone like Polly had a mother as nasty as this Karen who was drilling into Marcus who she didn’t even know. In her mind she believed that Marcus specifically shouldn’t be playing around the sidewalk, that it was against the “rules” of this community that she wasn’t sure Marcus even belonged to and should be playing in a different area instead.

You guys had a fence but Marcus said that he hit the ball too far and it ended up on the sidewalk so that’s the only reason he came around the fence. You didn’t care what the reason was, he knew not to play near the street of the gated community but you trusted his word regardless and old man Stewart confirmed this with a nod of his head. He had the both of your back’s and you guys spent the holidays every so often at each other’s houses.

“It got ugly, babe. Told her to keep her finger out my face and to not ever speak to my kid like that again. She tried to chest bump my back so I turned around and shoved her on her ass. She’s lucky I didn’t smack the shit out her wal-mart Glenn Close looking ass. Which was enough ammo for her to call HOA but we’ve got cameras just as much as Polly’s got her ring camera so I’m not worried. I just didn’t want Marcus to deal with that bullshit.”

Rio ends up smiling at you and you widen your eyes at him. “I’m glad you find this amusing.”

“Oh it’s not—I’m just proud of you.”

“For not going to jail?”

Rio tilts his head to the side, “The verdicts probably still out on that one, knowing the kind of woman she is.”

“You’re right.”

“I’ll have to talk to Polly.” Rio decided as he caressed your fingertips.

“She’s already sent mountains of texts, she’s with us and says she’ll work on talking to her demon—I mean mother.” You can’t fight against the liquor but even still, you said what you said.

Rio nods, “you don’t even got to worry about the rest. I got us.”

“…do I want to know?”

“Nah,” Rio shrugged as he used his other hand to caress your face, “just continue being the best thing that happened to me. I know I don’t have to thank you but I want to, for looking at Marcus as your own.”

You laugh, “he’s a great kid, part of you, which makes me love you guys even more so of course I will—without question.”

Rio pulls you by the chin to his lips, which you’ve been missing all week and when he lets you slip your tongue into his mouth, he pulls back with a grin. “Later mama, I got to make sure you two are good first.”

“Huh?” Your eyes fluttered open as Rio holds your own hand up in front of your face to prove his point, “that’s just a scratch.”

“Our girl will be the judge of that.” Rio tells, “Can’t believe you didn’t try and sneak her over here.”

“Thought she was on business with you guys.”

“We got more than one medic, mama. I kept the best here with y’all.”

“How kind.”

“I’m a kind guy.”

“I don’t think the dust bag will think so when you’re finished spooking her.”

Rio doesn’t fight his grin but replies, “Who says I’m gonna do it? I got people for that but the message will be real clear.”

“Rio—

He shushes you as he pecks your lips once more, making you lean your forehead against his, happy that he’s home before he’s sending out a code to your number one medic girl to stop by the house ASAP.

the both of you break away as the thudding of steps decended down the steps, revealing Marcus who called out Rio’s name, who he needed further reassurance from.

“Hey bud,” Rio starts as he embraces the young boy before knocking their fist together, “you good?”

He slowly nods but Rio knows he’s not, although he had a feeling Marcus held his own. It usually took a lot to bring it out of him to defend himself but Rio would see for himself once he looked at the footage tonight.

“You know what? Let’s go play outside while the ladies finish up.” Rio gets to his feet and the slight panic in Marcus’ face is evident, making your heart break while Rhea tightens the folding of her arms.

Rio squeezed Marcus’ shoulder, “hey, when you’re with me you remember you’re the king of your own castle, aight? Nobody can tell you nothing, move how you wanna move and own it. This is your neighborhood too, you understand?”

“…yes dad.”

“Alright? I got goalie.”

Rio sends a firm look to you two ladies before he heads outside with Marcus right beside him.

He attentively analyzed the situation before deciding what else needs to be done. One thing you could never do was go against the family he built and that was always serious to him. Anybody that messed with his family, immediately became his target and if it had to be a part time neighbor from across the street?

So be it.

They’ll learn soon enough.

They always do.

~LUCA~

“Babe! You’re not gonna believe this.” Luca calls out to you as he slams the front entrance door from down below shut, before making his way upstairs.

You can always tell when Luca’s home because he has a tendency to be heavy handed, always slamming the door that it tends to shake the house. It’s not something he purposely does, majority of the time he doesn’t even notice but it is a thing and even your neighbors in the townhouse to the left of you mockingly mentioned it.

They were assholes anyway and should be the last ones to talk about noise. Having loud company over every other day and some type of event at their home every other weekend, also crowding up the streets, without inviting you guys on multiple occasions. There were eight specific units on this street that were all grouped and managed underneath the same property and you would think they would also include you two. The both of you quickly learned that Chicago was much different than Copenhagen.

And what Luca remembered.

“I wouldn’t take it to heart and give it some time, yeah? Otherwise? They can piss right off!” Luca’s older sister that he’s reconnected with while being back in the states tells you two, laughing lightly as she’s helping you two unpack weeks ago.

You wouldn’t have if you didn’t decide to be neighborly, bringing them their mail when it accidentally got mixed in with yours, waving at them in passing as you chatted with the other residents, and then actually going over to introduce yourselves with a platter. It was all fraudulent and they just didn’t want to be bothered with you two, Luca gradually started to forget about it after finding a new position at one of the top three upscale restaurants in the city until you would bring it up. And of course he listened to anything that bothered you.

Their music was too loud for hours at a time sometimes until two in the morning on a week night, Luca would calmly address the situation to the guy of the household when he would get a hold of him on his way in from running around the city in sweats and a hoodie—yes in the middle of a scorching August, the both of you always had early mornings with you being a medical assistant down at the hospital and with Luca always having to do prep. You didn’t have the patience to stick around for the guy and his significant other never came to the door when you both knew she was home probably hungover.

Luca was friendly in his approach about it and at first, the athlete told Luca that they were just celebrating as much as they could before he was back on the road to get in the box yet he couldn’t help but to throw in a jab, “They do have these things called single family homes. Maybe you two should consider that.” In the end he said they’d try to keep it down. That still rubbed you the wrong way when Luca slipped up and told you that part.

Which only meant turning the music up even louder that the house rattled on their end. If their garbage was over filled, they would dump some of it into yours attracting raccoons but would then claim it had to be one of the other neighbors—you two had a ring cam, it wasn’t. The last straw was the fiancée drunkly pissing right in the path of your garage, which you stepped in the next morning when you were running late to work.

Humming you turn your attention from the street view of the balcony to Luca who stood in the doorway. You sat comfortably in the outdoor chair, paperback turned over on the table as you finished sipping at your fruit water.

“Hey baby,” you greet with a smile, relaxed and bare faced on your day off in the summer light as you held your face up for Luca to place a quick kiss to the corner of your mouth before he sat in the chair across from you.

Luca stretched his arms across the table as he greeted you back, “hello darling…you’re not gonna believe this!” He continues.

“What? That you suddenly caved and like Chicago dogs now?” You quizzed, folding your own arms as you leaned against the table, ready to listen.

Luca chuckles, “not likely, babe. Guess I won’t ever fit into their standards, yeah?”

“I think the world will still turn.”

“I think so too,” Luca agrees with a small smirk, “listen to this. I went to the bakery, the one Marcus is working part-time at now because of the whole thing with Carmy’s uncle—just to check on him you know? Guess who was also in there?”

You raise your brows after finding it sweet that Luca made it his mission to check in on Marcus. The two hit it off when Marcus trained underneath him for a couple of weeks back then and he’s been over to the flat a few times along with Sydney. Luca didn’t give you much time to guess since he was so adamant about telling you about his day. Usually when something was on Luca’s mind, his words went haywire out of excitement—depending what it was of course.

“Ryan!”

You blinked at the news of your boyfriend running into your problematic next door neighbor in slight confusion, “okay…a little surprised he likes baked goods since he gives the impression that he drinks egg yolks and eats raw meat for fun.”

It was Luca’s turn to furrow his naturally arched brows, “I’m not quite sure how you’ve gotten that idea and you might want to cut back on your time watching Santa Clarita Diet. It might help.”

You snort as you wave your fingers along for the now buzzed blond to continue. It wouldn’t be the first show that you watched where Luca passed judgment on. He is definitely the one to ask a thousand questions while you’re trying to watch something.

“Ryan told me, Leah was rushed to the hospital yesterday morning.” Luca informs you, “Want to know what for?”

Sitting back against the chair, you keep your arms crossed and fight the urge to roll your eyes, “…not particularly, no.”

Luca bites down on his bottom lip trying to hold it in but doesn’t, “she crapped out a parasite.”

Your mouth drops open, “You’re lying.”

“Honest to flavor town.” Luca does the praying motion before pointing to the sky and you knew it was serious business if he mentioned Guy Fieri.

Clasping a hand against your mouth you try to hide your snickers but Luca picks up on the fact that you found this a little too amusing.

“…what have you done?” He points an accusatory finger at you.

Lifting your shoulders, your lips twist around in laughter and you dared peeked back at Luca who was awaiting your answer. You wouldn’t leave him in the dark much longer, “fine! I sent a cleanse her way after all that day drinking and with my medical knowledge…I thought I’d give a helping hand.”

“Which means what?” Luca pressed, sitting back as well as he listened to you.

“I may have or may not have used the papayas that Grace left here before she went back to Texas when we went to that farmer’s market,” you slowly admit of your time with your old friend who came to visit with her baby girl Charlie, informing your boyfriend of the slight clues, “we both know I’m allergic and I didn’t want them to go to waste. So I made our lovely neighbors some papaya cereal with the seeds, put it up real nice in a jar for them to enjoy. Left it by their door and watched Ryan bring the bait in.”

Luca exhales, “you’re actually starting to scare me.”

“Remember that old nutritionist who’s heavily spiritual I told you about that we always end up seeing once a month at the hospital?” You ask while Luca nods his head, “she experienced the same thing partygirlLeah99 did but her’s was intentional.”

The bomb that you dropped had Luca clenching his eyes shut, “what you’re telling me is…you basically gave our neighbor some form of a laxative?”

“Just removed the toxins and clearly Leah has some. How many parasites was it?”

Luca shook his head, “no, no, no. We’re not just going to skip over the chaotic evil you’ve just done.”

You tilted your head to the side, “I think it was more lawful evil…maybe even good. She pissed on our property, Luca! And Ryan’s a dick.”

Luca holds his forehead now stressed, “Yeah and he can K.O. us if he really wanted to if he ever found out! He’s a professional boxer—

“I don’t care! Lessons need to be taught and he’s out of here in the fall anyway so that’s one less problem we have to deal with.” You shrug as you reach for your water again but Luca snatched it back.

He sighs, “we talked about this…you can’t just go and take matters into your own hands without discussing it with me first. I said I would talk to them about the peeing situation—

“You tried talking to them before! They don’t care about us, and sure they don’t owe us anything but I worked really hard on that charcuterie board, then they excluded us constantly and probably will do it again once Halloween comes around—

“So that’s what this is about? You’re worried about Halloween?” Luca questions, knowing it was one of your favorite Halloween parties.

“How dare they throw a summerween party when I’m the number one queen of the spooks!” You childishly turn your head to peek out into Chicago’s scenery from your first balcony.

Luca sips at your water now and exaggerates as he lets out an, “ah! That’s refreshing but I don’t know what to say about my girlfriend being upset over some people that we don’t even know well enough to care about their perceptions of us, if they even have any.”

Both of your professions caused you to be around all sorts of people, especially some downright mean ones but you both persevered. Luca would always take it as a learning curve, whereas you tended to take things more personal majority of the time. Yes you were the type to cry when angry, go ahead and sue your sensitive heart! Luca was only a little older than you and slightly better at communicating—when he wasn’t a nervous wreck—but you on the other hand tended to proceed with action rather than words or a conversation like Luca.

“Don’t say anything to me, just love me, choose me,” you playfully recite while Luca scoffs, “and wish those bitches an early happy Halloween, specifically from me to them. What she won’t know what hurt her.” You wink while Luca runs a hand over his buzzed summer look in shock.

“Well it actually did,” Luca frowns with his hands held out although you’re still unphased, “and doesn’t this count as assault?”

There goes the panic everybody!

You knew a good lawyer that shared the same blood as Luca (if it ever came to that) you weren’t worried and maybe you were chaotic evil after all? Depends who you ask.

Pouting you say, “Did she die?”

“No!”

“Then everybody wins!” You clap as you push back from the table, “So…What’s for dinner?”

“Not fucking papayas that’s for sure.” Luca states while you laugh, beginning to collect your things to bring back inside.

Luca sits outside for a moment longer, you briefly kiss his lips, him shaking his head at you afterwards once more as he whacks your backside before you head in to search the fridge, and he stares out into the city just wondering what else this place will bring.

Hopefully better understanding of being neighbors in the states!

MIKEY

“The hell happened to you?” Mikey asks, sneaking up behind you in your kitchen.

Which wasn’t unfamiliar for him to do but you did let out a yelp as you stood by your coffee and tea counter. You turned to your old friend, who scanned his eyes all over your filth covered clothes.

“My neighbor Lorraine is mad that I called her son out for being a pervert. Then she tried to argue that my dog is barking at all times of the night so I don’t have the right to speak on her son!” You paced the floor.

Mikey crosses his arms, “well she isn’t too bright because that thing in there is far from a dog,” he starts while you give him the side eye for talking shit about your Maine coon, “and what’s this about a pervert?”

You sigh, “..her son is just this college dropout who’s apparently into astronomy and thinks I don’t catch him with his telescope set out on the front sidewalk, right where the living room window is, as if he’s gone camping with my body being the view!”

It wouldn’t be Mikey’s first time catching you streaking around the house either—that was your fault for giving him a key—but this random kid? He had a problem with.

Mikey rubs at his facial hair, “Was he the one that did this to you?”

You huff, “that little bitch ran as soon as mommy Lorraine thought it would be nice to dump her trash on me out in the courtyard.”

There was always something going on in your courtyard out back, whether it was random cookouts even in the winter!, residents fighting over which outdoor seating technically belonged to them (it didn’t belong to anyone, everybody at the condo had access to it), to Lorraine overpopulating the backyard with her garden and horrible smelling manure, and fires being started by the little kids for fun, Mikey can never say it’s a dull moment on Sunnyside Ave.

“…and what did you do?” Mikey questioned, his lips twisting at the corners, knowing he wasn’t the best influence, especially if the shoe was on the other foot.

Which you knew, hanging out with him, Richie, and even Michelle always had the potential go left very quickly.

“There’s onion juice or some shit in my eye,” you start using your wrist to wipe at your red eye before saying, “and if I somehow end up blind before I get in to my eye doctor this year…it’s a wrap for her.”

“So you’re going in for the silent kill?” Michael summarizes, “that leaves the creeper to me then, is he home? I’d love to have a talk with ‘em!”

He points towards the back door which leads out to the courtyard. You leap forward, latching onto Michael’s wrist, “which I’m sure you’ll get your chance but I see you bought something for me?”

Michael rolls his eyes as he glanced back at the counter that contained a bag, “you’re real observant aren’t ya?”

“I’m also hungry but I need to get this stench off me first.” You slap your hands beside your thighs.

He jokingly steps forward to take a whiff towards you, “…I wasn’t going to say anything but whew!”

“Shut up, Mikey!” You shove him back but he just laughs.

Mikey pinches a piece of your hair on your way by, pulling something from it, “looks like she got you good with some shallot skin and soil if you ask me! But I got a nice Cubano waiting for ya when you get out.”

Your mouth watered at the mention of your favorite sandwich Mikey always brought over to you every other Tuesday, “can’t wait for that baby to bring me the biggest serotonin.”

Mikey grins at you.

When you drag your eyes back to meet his you ask, “so how was your day, bub? Good?”

“Yeah! I think it’s going to be alright.”

You hold your hand out, “tell me about it?”

He takes your hand as you lead him to the bathroom. He sits on the toilet as you quickly get into your skincare, terrified of skin mites thanks to some shit Sugar sent to a group chat between you, her, and Michelle. Michael doesn’t mind watching you do your routine, falling into quiet chatter before you strip out of your clothes.

He tries not to let his stare linger but he always thought you were a goddess, even with your clothes on. The comfortability between you two was strong, that at times it felt like there was nothing to ever be afraid of, especially when it came to showing your most vulnerable selves to each other. It’s not long before he’s joining you behind the shower liner, helping each other clean away whatever the day held before you’re embracing each other, arms tucked underneath each others as your now loud conversation fights against the pressure from the shower head.

He tells you all about the possible new hire, her name being Tina and how he feels like she’ll be the one to keep Chicagoland on their toes and in shape. He’s got that spark in his eye when he talks about her, finding a connection and in hopes that she will turn up when she’s ready but he has no doubt that she will.

“Maybe you can call her for backup if you ever come face to face with string bean nose Lorraine.” Mikey jokes over the water.

You scoff, “if the garbage can actually hit me, Lorraine just might need to tap Tina in for her to get me off her ass!”

Mikey chuckles, leaning forward to place a kiss on your forehead before you tuck your head underneath his chin. If you could’ve, you would have held onto him for eternity.

But…that’s not the way life played out in later episodes.

When Tuesday’s hit, sometimes it still feels like he’s here around your condo trying to scare the shit out of your cat, when he’s the one who’s actually terrified of him. And when you catch yourself staring at Lorraine’s nose a little too long during your small morning chats before you’re both leaving for work—that’s right—you two are now cordial enough to have civilized conversations, and yes you had Michael Berzatto to thank for that.

For constantly seeing the best in everybody, even crazy gardening neighbors who loved composting and believing their son could do no wrong.

Who only knows what Mikey’s conversation with that kid was like. You had a feeling that Richie knew, there was a slim chance that Richie was his ride along when you were off at work or someplace else but Richie would always be Mikey’s keeper.

And you were fine with that, as long as you never saw a telescope again.

ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪

SUMMER ‘24 PROMPTS FIN. (For now!)

[batsandbirdbrains]

I was wondering if you had any fic recommendations for apprentice au or for talon dick? Like similar to your prompts maybe or just good ones? <3

oh boy oh boy let me put together a little list (these are in no particular order). these are all on ao3 btw

Apprentice AUs

The Nightwing Protocol by PurpleSoot

In a universe that falls somewhere in between Teen Titans and Young Justice, Robin was fourteen years old on the day he was killed in action, caught in a clever trap laid by the world’s most dangerous mercenary assassin. Deathstroke’s Apprentice was fifteen on the day he finally surrendered to the Justice League, with blood on his hands and scars that will never heal. Dick Grayson is seventeen on the day he chooses to face Slade Wilson again. Some things you lose and can’t ever find again. Some things you drop and leave behind. Some things you just have to learn how to carry with you. (They’ll call that the Nightwing Protocol, if he survives.)

This is my most favorite fic ever. Ever ever ever ever ever. It's amazing. It's incredible. I can't recommend it enough. 10000/10 if you read any of the fics off this list, read this one.

Denial by Ephemeral_Love (orphan_account)

Nightwing doesn't ever end up admitting the fact that he does get buzzed from holding the gun in his hand, pretends that the nights with Slade don't happen unless he's in the moments, never does process the fact that he killed because it's against his code, his moral; against everything he's ever been taught.

This one is in the YJ universe and u know i love that, i feel like yj almost never gets an apprentice au

Unspoken Truths by A_Concerned_Citizen

“They tried getting Superman in here earlier. Went down like a lead balloon.” It's a painful endeavour, trying to keep his face as neutral as possible when Dick wants to smile, “That was always a doomed attempt.” Slade has no such issues, a snort of amusement coming easily from him, “Well it's a good thing they finally realized you needed to be the one talking to me.” -- AKA Slade has information the League needs, Dick goes to interrogate him and ends up revealing the fact that he and Slade are friends.

This one I don't think is necessarily like apprentice au but it's fun and Slade's an ass so I think it's great.

Talon AUs

Secrets, not Sins by Bludswing

It had been a long time since the Court had made an appearance in Dick's life but that just made it all the more jarring when a Talon shows up in the middle of a mission and throws a wrench into the whole plan. The shock and fear keep Dick from acting and in the end, that's what leads to everything being laid out on the table. There would be no more secrets by the time this day was done. ---or--- William Cobb makes a surprise appearance and exposes Dick's biggest secret in the most gruesome way he knows how. The team has been through too much to let it affect their view of their friend.

Pretty sure I was thinking of this fic when writing on of my recent talon ideas. I love this fic I think I've reread it at least like 7 times.

Baby Talon Dick is a series by iselsis 

It's pretty much exactly what it sounds like. Dick was made into a Talon when he was a little kiddo. it's adorable I love it, I love all of them.

birds and brothers and other assorted synonyms is a series by hoebiwan

A Reverse Robin AU in which Damian is a tired older brother, Duke is a ray of sunshine, and Dick is a baby talon.

Dick's a menace and I love it. he really likes m&ms and I think that's cute.

[throneofsapphics]

finding you again, part two

Azriel x f!Reader

summary: after he ended your relationship, you didn’t expect Azriel to pop into your life again - and you’re not happy about it

warnings: violence, injuries, war

a/n: if anyone wants to be added to the taglist, please let me know!

series masterlist

Azriel barely remembered making it to the healing tent. 

It must’ve been a hallucination, surely you wouldn’t have healed him. You’d call for someone else to do it. 

“Stay safe spymaster,” you’d said with that wicked smirk on your face, “and do it far away from me, won’t you?” 

He’d let you get the last word in. Maybe because it pleased you, maybe because he was too caught up staring at you. 

Still, the features he’d tried to memorize those months ago loomed over him, pretty eyes glimmering with worry. 

“Come on, Azriel,” you half-snarled. “I’ll be pissed if you don’t make it.” 

“You have horrible bedside manner,” the words rasped from his throat.

“Get some water,” he didn’t know who you called, but he both heard and felt the pure relief in your voice. Next thing, you were tipping his chin, fingers cold against his skin, cool water sliding down his throat. 

“He’ll be fine,” you said, withdrawing as quickly as possible. Azriel’s vision was still swarming, but Cassian helped him sit. He caught sight of your back, ducking under the tent flap, back out towards the carnage. 

-

Madja was busy, and you hadn’t hesitated when your High Lord’s voice slipped into your mind, ordering you to a specific tent. Your stomach had dropped when you saw him. Not because of the gore, because it was Azriel, knocking on death's door hovering right on the brink of an unconsciousness that would put him in a coma. Perhaps not your neatest work, but he would survive.

Rhysand was probably aware of your shared history, and it made you even more surprised he let you near him. 

You shook the thought of him, of the Inner Circle, from your mind and faced the hoards of injured and dying again, scanning for the most critically injured. There was plenty of work to do. 

Pace yourself, you remembered Madja’s teachings on battlefield healing, and your own experience. Ration your magic, use only what’s necessary. They’ll survive a scar.

Time had no meaning as you worked, hours passed with countless patients, the sun fell and rose, and you could barely stand on your own two feet. 

“Take a rest,” a familiar voice, and a hand squeezing your shoulder. 

You shook it off. “There’s more to do.” 

“You can’t help anyone if you pass out,” he said mildly. 

Pivoting to face him, your face tightened. “And people will die if I can’t help them.” 

If you had more energy, you would’ve squirmed under his scrutiny. “At least eat something.” 

“Fine,” you spit out, and headed to the tent the healers stayed in, on the outskirts of camp, hoping he wouldn’t follow.  

He had, of course, as you emerged with an apple between your teeth, a few strips of dried meat in a recently cleaned hand, he was standing outside. Somehow, the area was regretfully empty. 

“I don’t need a minder,” you told him. “Go rest.” 

“Hypocritical.” 

“You’ll ruin my hard work.” 

His eyes flashed. Amusement or ire, you reminded yourself not to care, reminded yourself again as he left without a look back. He was getting in your head again. If you survived this war, if your world survived it, you’d flee far far away. 

-

It was dark, he should be sleeping, but instead he slid through the shadows, searching through the camp for … for you. His shadows told him everything, but he felt the need to set his eyes on you, like if he looked away for too long you’d disappear. 

“You can’t stay?” you asked. His eyes scanned you, white sheet barely covering the top of your breasts, the slight look of disappointment on his face. Azriel needed to be up early, and he knew if he spent another minute here, he’d be late and have too many questions to answer. 

Instead, he kissed your forehead, “another time,” he promised, unsure if he could actually keep it, and slipped out the door. 

The memory came to him out of nowhere, the desire to go back and change that moment strong and unexpected. He forced it from his mind, there was no going back, and you’d made that perfectly clear. 

As soon as he’d caught a glimpse of you, he retreated to make an effort to get some sleep - it’s what you’d want him to do. 

-

You moved with the armies, went where you were ordered, healed whoever needed healing, and most of all - kept your head down.

Maybe a few days, maybe a week had passed, but when Azriel appeared, one hand pulling the tent flap back, you didn’t have the energy to rebuke him. 

An exhausted wave of your hand, you let him in, and turned to pile over the notes in front of you. Letters bent and blended, and the heavy blinks to try and return them to legible words failed. 

Footsteps, loud enough to make sure you were aware of his position, slowing as they reached. Twisting barely over your shoulder, his thumb pressed against your chin, turning you forwards, to gaze at his shadow cast against the tent wall - now encompassing your own. 

Featherlight brushes against the skin of your neck, goosebumps down your spine, rough thumbs run circles in all of your trigger points. Decades ago, he’d done this nearly every time you met, always without asking, and somehow still knew all of the right places.

A low moan escaped slightly parted lips as he dug into where your shoulder and neck met. The fingers paused, but gods the exhaustion must’ve been truly driving you out of your mind, because you covered his hand with your own, encouraging him to resume. 

A low chuckle, and he did.

The next hours were something of a fever dream. Your bed was hardly large enough for two - especially for a pair of wings, but you managed to lay side by side, both fully clothed. Occasionally, his hand would bump into yours, and vice versa. 

The only noise inside the tent was your steady breaths, the two of you finding solace in the silence of each other's company. In that silence, you convinced yourself it was a dream, or a ridiculous hallucination. 

But, when you woke in the morning - alone, the usual tightness in your neck was missing, and familiar hints of cedar and night chilled mist filled the space. You were well aware he owed you nothing, but waking alone, not even a note, left you feeling used - you scoffed at the word - he’d given you a massage after all, if anything you were the one using him. 

 Whatever game he was playing with you, you wanted no part of it. Even if it wasn’t a game, even if he was just searching for some comfort during the chaos, it wasn’t you. He could find another source. The night only tightened your resolve to stay away from him. 

You were not called to heal him, nor any other members of the Inner Circle, again - to your relief. Just once, you saw him in passing, and averted your gaze, melted into the crowd before you could be noticed. 

The war ended, and you heard the stories of sacrifice, of the loss and gain of life, and thanked the mother with each one, but all you had eyes for was the rows and rows of males and females in varying shades of misery front of you. 

-

“Madja,” you called just loud enough to catch the healer's attention. She held up her hand in acknowledgement. The moments dragged as you watched her movements, the careful and measured expenditure of her magic, the efficient bandaging and applying of herbs.

As soon as she’d finished, she met your eyes. As always, her gaze stripped you bare and you wondered what she saw, before deciding you didn’t want to know. Her chin jerked towards the water basin, and you dutifully followed. You’d received her summons just minutes ago. 

“Back by the border,” she started - the location of the last battle, you noted, “there’s a medical camp in need of a seasoned healer. Although we can hardly spare you,” she sighed, “they asked and their need, believe it or not, is equal if not greater than ours.” 

“The ratio?” You asked, steeling yourself. 

“About fifty,” she gave you a look that said she didn’t envy you. 

“Then I better get going,” your mouth curved at the corners. After all, there was nothing keeping you here. 

You were fresh off a few hours of mandated rest and a good meal, and knew you had enough energy to winnow and get to work as soon as you arrived. It took mere minutes to pack the few things you brought, to tuck whatever supplies Madja could spare into a pocket space. You didn’t give yourself time to evaluate the weight that left your chest as you departed. 

-

When the chaos and politics surrounding the final battle ebbed, he looked for you. His shadows searched every inch of the blood soaked ground, tent, hidden crevice, but you were gone. Swallowing pride, he asked Madja, who only said you were dispatched elsewhere, and fixed him with a quizzing look. His eyes cool and face an unreadable mask of stone, he let his shoulders rise and drop slightly. 

“I only wish to thank her.” 

Madja huffed, head shaking and turned away. It didn’t matter whether or not the healer believed his half-truth. 

Azriel had spared what time he could for you, and banished you to a back corner of his mind, tucked away with the other memories that ached an old part of him. Shadow cooling his neck, a slow exhale, and he focused back to the present, back on his priorities. He needed to keep you where you belonged, in his past.

taglist: @mellowarcadefun @acourtofbatboydreams @sheblogs @macimads  @sirens-and-moonflowers @tele86 @kalulakunundrum @anxious-study @mika-no-sekai-blog @judig92  @randomperson1234sblog @fightmedraco @caraaaaugh @thelov3lybookworm @tothestarsandwhateverend @fxckmiup @scatteredstardustt @tooweirdtolive-toorareto-die @redcap3girl @boygeniuses10 @anuttellaa @aunicornmademedoit @inloveallthetime @florencemtrash @juniperberriesaries @azriels-shadowsinger @mybestfriendmademe @prettylittlewrites @bubybubsters @emryb @blessthepizzaman

[garkgatiss]

The Interstellar Song Content giving us two genocide survivors who respond to their experience either by a) singing in a song contest sponsored by the perpetrators of said genocide or b) plotting to kill one scrillion innocents in a terrorist attack doesn't really cut it when the show not only portrayed but had the Doctor embedded in/participating in an armed resistance movement as recently as The Robot Revolution. These two ludicrous caricatures paper over an entire spectrum of both violent and nonviolent resistance in the most insulting way possible, a spectrum that the show has shown they are absolutely capable of portraying.

Having the Doctor be "triggered" and start torturing Kid, when the Doctor agonized over but ultimately showed mercy to Davros, the inventor of the fucking Daleks of all people in The Magician's Apprentice/The Witch's Familiar, is just wildly irresponsible. "Sometimes the Doctor goes too far!" well personally I would prefer it if he did that in an episode where it didn't instantly make him a stand-in for the state of Israel, current real world champion of going-too-far in torturing and murdering hundreds of thousands of innocent people it has uniformly smeared as terrorists, and to which people have responded, in part, by protesting, boycotting, and asking they be excluded from a certain international song contest.

And if that's too much to ask, if we need the Doctor to play Israel for a moment, I would at least prefer someone condemn the Doctor's behavior a little more forcefully than 'you scared me! but also you're wonderful!', especially someone who was comfortable scolding him just for scanning her DNA without consent.

Surely you can see how any possible 'murder is wrong' message falls hopelessly flat when the only actual irreversible murders in the episode -- the genocide of an entire planet committed by the Corporation -- result in literally no consequences for the perpetrator, and the few surviving victims we meet are shallow caricatures.

Even the imagery during the final song tribute to Hellia is impersonal -- a pretty green planet on fire and some flowers. No tender moment of Kid with his mom? A flash of Cora's horns being forcibly ground down? A glimpse of Cora and Wynn together on Hellia, or whatever Wynn went through when Cora had to abandon her? Did any human suffering happen on Hellia, or was it just the plants and air quality that suffered? Can I see any attempt to humanize this society, to get intimate with these characters, their past and their grief?

Meanwhile we are shown a whole montage of dozens of the individual people Kid would have killed celebrating being brought back to life so they can watch or perform in the song contest. It's chilling how this echoes the way Israeli victims and hostages are each known by name, while orders of magnitude more Palestinians have been killed in response whose names are barely reported and whose numbers are hardly acknowledged. Slaughter as many people as you need until you feel safe at a music festival again.

But even aside from the real life parallels, the writing of the episode itself is complicit in minimizing the genocide of Hellia. It is tonally insane of them to introduce a genocide of a whole planet with widespread racism against the survivors and then expect the emotional payoff of saving the non-Hellian audience from a Hellian terrorist attack and singing a previously forbidden song about the genocide to be satisfying. It's even crazier to think there's value in posing a choice between Cora singing a song in remembrance and Kid's senseless violence on an unimaginable scale. Like no shit Sherlock. What if you tried asking your audience to think about the choice between disruptive protests or demands for material reparations or proportionate armed resistance and violence against strategic targets or anything with at least a whiff of nuance. What if you tried portraying angry, traumatized, maligned genocide survivors doing something within two standard deviations of actual human behavior. What if you tried meeting the fucking moment.

[steddieasitgoes]

he can't sit with us (or maybe he can?)

written for @steddie-week Day 4 prompt: Trade Rating: T | wc: 2651 | no cw thank you to @stevethehairington and @thefreakandthehair for beta-ing this one for me!! Read on ao3

Eddie is amped up. 

Lunch has always been his favorite part of the school day, but today is going to be an especially good one. Not because of his lunch — he forgot to grab the sandwich he made last night so he wouldn’t forget, and he’s been out of lunch credit for weeks now, so he’s shit out of luck on that front — but because today’s the day he unleashes his latest rant on the hivemind that is the Hawkins High student body. 

It’s taken him weeks to work out everything he wants to say about the giant mall they’re building a few blocks from Main Street that everyone and their workaholic fathers are excited about. The one that led to the demolishment of Hawkins' second-best trailer park — Forest Hills being the best, obviously. He even asked Wayne’s advice on what he should say since his uncle has way more experience going against The Man™ and The Man’s™ People. 

He’s pretty proud of what he’s come up with. Sure, it’s a typical Munson rant that goes on a personal tangent in the middle about how Sam Goody and Tape World are probably going to put Jet’s Jams out of music. And okay, yeah, Jet’s Jams is the fucking worst most of the time and only ever has the top 40s bullshit in stock, but at least Eddie has some pull with good ole’ Jet and can bargain with the dude to order a metal record or two every once in a while. You think Sam Goody is going to take his advice? Not a chance in hell!

But then he’ll get back on track and get into the educational stuff that Wayne talked to him about. At least, that’s the plan; all he has to do is stick to the bullet point list he scribbled out in Ms. O’Donnell’s class thirty minutes ago, ignoring whatever the fuck she was going on about at the front of the room. 

It’s going to be great. Definitely one of his best lunchtime soapbox speeches. Hell, maybe this will be the one to actually wake some of his peers up. Capitalism is the real devil here. Not him. 

He’s bouncing with adrenaline and nerves as he saunters into the crowded cafeteria, ready for his moment, ready for—

What the hell? 

Eddie stops midstride when he spots Gareth and Jeff waving at him from a table in the middle of the room. Again, what the hell? That’s not their table. Not even fucking close. 

Eddie doesn’t believe in the social hierarchy of high school cliques, but he does respect the lunch table distribution system Hawkins’ operates under. And he knows, without a shadow of a doubt, that tables in the middle are destined for the so-called elite. Not his Dungeons & Dragons club and the other lost sheep stragglers he’s accumulated over his extended high school career.  

They’re supposed to be sitting at a table on the outskirts of the room. The one by the windows, with the art kids to his right and the drama kids to his left. The weirdo, outcast corner. 

And yet, there they are in the middle of the room at a table usually occupied by the so-called elites and anyone else they’ve deemed worthy of their company. 

“This isn’t our table,” Eddie says, slamming his hands down with enough force to knock Gareth’s brown paper bag over, taking his unopened Dr. Pepper can with it. 

Gareth scowls, righting the can. “Now I see why you’re a super senior. Of course, it’s not our fucking table!” 

Eddie intertwines his fingers before pillowing his chin against them. “Okay then, Gareth the Great, tell me why we are sitting here.” 

“Our table is occupied,” Jeff supplies. 

“Occupied? Everyone knows that’s our table! Is this person new? Have they recently had a lobotomy?” 

This time, it’s Freak who speaks up. “No. He knows. He probably just doesn’t give a shit. A table’s a table or whatever.” 

Or whatever? Fat chance. A table hasn’t ever been just a table in the hellscape that is Hawkins High. Still, Eddie can’t help but be curious. There aren’t many people who would willingly sit at a new table this late into the school year. It’s a ballsy move.

He figures it’s a scorned drama kid or drumline member — there’s always drama in those groups; someone is always fucking someone they shouldn’t be, horny assholes. But when he turns to get a glance at this intruder, it’s not a butthurt outcast taking up court at the table, but rather Hawkins' very own Fallen King, Steve Harrington. 

For the third time, what the hell? 

“Did you tell him it’s our table?” 

“No! He’s Steve Harrington! I don’t think he’ll appreciate a couple of nerds telling him to move.” 

“And we value our lives too much to mess with upperclassmen,” Gareth says, mumbling something about learning his lesson the last time he tried something stupid like that. 

Eddie rolls his eyes before scoffing loud enough to startle the nearby table of cheerleaders. He wiggles his fingers in an innocent wave before focusing his attention back on his friends. 

“Please, Steve is all bark and no bite. And he hasn’t been Steve Harrington in a while.” Eddie raises his voice several octaves, batting his eyelashes as he says Steve’s name. “Now he’s just Steve Harrington,” he says, shrugging his shoulders with a nonchalance he never would have expected to use for someone of Steve’s former status. “He’s just some guy whose girlfriend dumped him for an artsy loner.” 

“It doesn’t matter, man! You don’t mess with people like Harrington,” Jeff says, shaking his head. “I’m sure it’s just like a one-time thing or something. It’s not like any of his friends are sitting with him. Maybe he’s just fighting with them.” 

Jeff has a point. Steve is alone. Sitting at the table all be himself, poking disinterestedly at an apple sauce cup. He’s not cowering or trying to make himself smaller like most people would do if they were stuck eating lunch alone, but he’s not making a show of it either. He’s just there. Minding his own business, staring out the windows Eddie has spent all five years of his high school career looking out off. 

“Those sounds like quitting words, Jefferson,” Eddie taunts, turning his attention back to the group. He makes a show of looking each and every Hellfire member in the eyes when he speaks again. “Are we quitters?” 

The entire table groans, a few shake their heads. Gareth, always the brave one, throws a chip at Eddie’s head that he manages to catch in his mouth. And people say he’s not athletic! 

“Since we’re not quitters, what should we do about this unlawful infiltration?” 

“I don’t know if it's an infiltration,” Freak says. “We just like traded tables without a verbal agreement.” 

“That’s worse than a seize!” 

“I don’t know, man. You’re the one that’s all fired up about it. Why don’t you go over there and ask Harrington to give it back to us.” 

“You know what,” Eddie says, pushing off the table until he’s standing. “I will.” 

With the same gravitas he entered the cafeteria with, Eddie saunters over to Steve. The sooner he gets this table thing handled, the sooner he can get on with his lunchtime diatribe — see Mr. Vance, I do listen in English class, old bat.

Eddie’s not a quiet walker by any means — he’s had enough pillows thrown at his head from Wayne for the way he stomps around the trailer in the mornings — but he manages to sneak up on Steve. Maybe it’s because his eyes are trained on a squirrel running up a tree in the distance, mumbling encouragements as the poor thing struggles to make it up. 

Huh, Harrington’s a squirrel fan? Who knew? 

Eddie’s watch chirps, a reminder that there are only ten minutes left of lunch. Jesus H. Christ! He’ll have to do an abridged version of his speech now, but it should still be enough to get his point across. That is if he manages to get Steve to trade tables with them without a fight. 

“Fancy seeing you here, Steve,” Eddie says, loud enough to startle Steve out of the squirrel watching. “What brings you to my humble abode?” 

Steve glances up at him with a look of disinterest he seems to have perfected in his fall from grace. And honestly, as much as Eddie hates to admit it and would never say it out loud unless he was being waterboarded or some shit, this new version of Steve really works for him. 

“Your humble what?” Steve asks, dropping his disinterest to look up confused instead. 

His brows pull together, scrunching up his forehead in a way that should be unflattering but is honestly sort of endearing. And his head is tilted to the side like a confused animal — something Eddie has a lot of experience with, given his unofficial status as a trailer park animal rescuer. Eddie’s so lost in studying Steve’s confusion that he forgets to actually respond, which like, is new territory for Eddie. He’s never one not to talk. 

“Look, man, I don’t know what you want, but could you just spit it out so I can go back to enjoying my lunch?”

Eddie’s personality returns to his body in an instant. “Enjoying your lunch, you say?” He takes a second to glance at Steve’s lunch tray. A measly bite has been taken out of the cardboard the school passes off as pizza. The side of congealed mac and cheese sits untouch and his apple sauce cup is open but still perfectly intact. “Doesn’t look like you ate at all, Steve.” 

“Seriously, Munson, what do you want?” 

Eddie tsks and yanks the seat next to Steve away from the table before not-so-gracefully falling into it. He kicks his feet up on the table a moment later, the toe of his boot knocking against the carton of milk he’s willing to bet Steve also hasn’t touched. Though he can’t really blame him for that one. Milk is not a lunchtime beverage, and no amount of dairy propaganda is ever going to change that. 

“As I’m sure you’re aware, Harrington, this is my table.” 

“I didn’t know the cafeteria had assigned seats.” 

“Bullshit, you didn’t,” Eddie growls, throwing his hands up in the air. The move forces him to lose his balance, chair wobbling on two legs under him, threatening to give out and dump him on his ass. Definitely not the lunchtime show he was hoping to give today. But before he meets his demise, Steve extends his hand, steadying the chair long enough for Eddie to drop his feet and reclaim his balance. “Thanks.” 

Steve grunts in response and goes back to staring out the window. 

Fucking squirrel. 

“Look, Steve,” Eddie says, getting straight to the point this time. “I don’t know why you decided to switch tables today or why you decided my table was the one you suddenly wanted, but can we please just switch back?” 

“I’m good here.” 

He tears his eyes away from the window for long enough to glance at his former table, where Gareth and Jeff are using straws as lightsabers without a care in the world. Steve snorts, and Eddie stiffens; he really, really doesn’t want to have to fight anyone today, but if Steve’s willing to be a dick about his friends in front of his face, well, fight, he will. But then Steve’s face softens, and he shakes his head in amusement. 

“Looks like your friends are good where they’re at, too. Though the lightsaber skills could use some work,” Steve teases. “Are we good then?”

“No, we’re not good!” Eddie shouts, trying his best to keep his brain on task. We’re here to get our table back, not ponder why Steve Harrington suddenly has a soft spot for nerds because what? “That’s your table, man, and this is ours. You’re going to upset the fragile balance of this place.” 

“Shouldn’t you be thanking me or something? I thought upsetting the balance was your life goal.” 

How dare Steve Harrington read him like that.

Since his dramatics haven’t worked, Eddie opts for the truth this time. “I have no interest in sitting in the middle of the damn cafeteria where everyone can see me and my friends just to cause a little societal unrest.” 

“And I have no interest in being forced to sit in the middle so everyone can stare at me while judging me and my mistakes.” 

Oh. 

The truth shouldn’t be all that shocking. Anyone who has eyes has witnessed Steve’s fall from King too well; Eddie’s not sure there is a word for what Steve is now. He’s not a pariah or an outcast, not smart enough to be a nerd, and the rumor is he quit basketball, so he’s not a jock. He’s just… lost? 

Steve groans, running a hand over his face for a second before his fingers pinch the bridge of his nose. “Can we pretend I didn’t say that?” 

“Uh, sure?” 

“Look, Eddie, I’m not going to trade tables with you, but if this one means that much to you, I don’t mind sharing.” 

“I thought you said you don’t want people staring at you?” 

“I don’t.” 

“Okay, well, sitting with the Freaks of Hawkins is definitely going to get people staring and talking, and honestly, you might even have to dodge a punch or two just for being in our vicinity.” 

“I’ll survive.” 

For the first time in his life, Eddie has no idea what to say. On one hand the idea of sharing a table is so preposterous he’s convinced he might be dreaming right now. But after a quick pinch to confirm that he is awake, he goes back to weighing his options. Sharing a table with Steve isn’t ideal, but sitting in the middle of the fucking cafeteria is a death sentence. He might be able to hold his own with the upper echelon of Hawkins High, but his ragtag group of friends isn’t so scrappy. 

And then there’s the lost sheep of it all. 

Eddie’s spent most of his high school career looking after lonely high schoolers. Whisking them under his wing, giving them a safe space to eat lunch or a club to hang out at after school to avoid having to walk back home alone. He thought he’d become somewhat of an expert at it, but it seems Steve Harrington has managed to slip through his cracks. 

Eddie would be the world’s biggest hypocrite if he didn’t at least try with Steve. It’s not like he has to join Hellfire or anything. All he’s really asking for his a spot at their lunch table. 

“I have one condition.” 

“Of course you do,” Steve says, rolling his eyes. 

“Actually, I have two.” Steve chuckles and motions for Eddie to get on with it already. “One, you can’t make fun of anything that happens at the table. We’re weird. You know it, we know it. We’re allowed to tease each other about it. You are not.” 

“I wouldn’t do that. Not anymore.” 

Eddie nods. “And two, you have to give me your dessert every day.” 

“Every day?” Steve balks. “You can have my applesauce and pudding cups, but I’m not giving you Friday’s chocolate cake.” 

“Guess you’re going to have to go back to sitting at the fishbowl table then.” 

Eddie watches as Steve considers this for a moment before his shoulders heave the world’s biggest sigh. “Fine.” 

Without warning, Eddie pushes away from the table, the legs of the chair screeching against the linoleum. His lips twitch at the corners, pulling into a genuine smile as he stands and offers Steve his hand. “Welcome to the Freak table, Steve.” 

[missuscupid]

content warning: john price's secretary, use of good girl, age gap (reader is in her late twenties/early thirties, john is forties), price doesn’t like the share, both are kinda pervy lets be real.

[ pt. 2 ]

you were such a good girl- always keeping your head down and following orders. john knew just how happy you were to please him. he saw it every day, that twinkle in your eyes every time he seemed pleased with whatever you were doing and offered a gruff "thank you" in your direction. he saw the way that you looked to him for approval anytime you did anything; it was like you wanted him to praise you and who was john to deny an angel such as yourself?

the problem with having a pretty thing stationed right outside his door is that it seemed to attract mutts. young recruits, older soldiers, his own taskforce seemed to linger just a moment too long while delivering papers. his most recent notice was one of the baby-faced recruits that seemed to flush red as soon as he dropped papers on the desk for the captain. it was hard not to- the way you smiled so prettily and bat your eyelashes as you thanked him, ignoring the way his eyes seemed to go straight down the thin silk blouse you were wearing.

john hated watching- hated the way that he noticed the recruit draw his eyes from your breast up to the tiny diamond necklace around your neck. a gift from someone john couldn't remember- a family member maybe. he was sure he'd remember if it was a spouse or boyfriend at least.

"love," john's voice cut through, gruff and demanding, "bring me that file please."

and the recruit was off, scurrying with his tail between his legs and a buckled little bye as he went. like the good girl you were, you were up and across the office at the first request. you bent, sliding the file onto his desk.

"thank you love," the pet names should've raised concern but you didn't think anything of it. it was common to hear around the base, men constantly eyeballing and calling out a reminder of your status to them. nothing more than a pretty face for the most part. you just nodded, halfway turning around when you heard the pen hit the floor.

whether it was intentional or not, john would never confirm but he wanted you bend, skirt slowly riding up your thighs as you went. his eyes were glued to your backside, daring you to bend just a little further to get a glance at the panties underneath your tights; were they as white and pure as you acted? a lacy red begging to be taken? or maybe you didn't wear anything at all-

he was hard underneath the desk, chair pulled up just enough that it wouldn't have been noticeable. not when you turned back to drop the pen onto the desk, the warm smell of vanilla still against your skin.

"anything else i can do for you, sir?"

"that'll be it." he cleared his throat, “pull the door closed on your way out.”

the door tugged shut behind you and only mere seconds later, john was tugging open the belt securing his pants.

he fisted his cock in his hand, slowly moving it underneath his desk to the thought of you. all long legs and short skirts. fat, soft hips that he wanted to grab. a thin shirt he could snap in a moment. he moved faster, a groan escaping his lips as his head fell back against the chair. rhythmically he moved, fisting into his own hand as his orgasm crept up. only a few short thrusts into his hand and cum pooled at the tip, slipping down his fist and towards his belt with guilt slowly settling in his stomach.

was it so wrong to think about the pretty secretary he had hired specifically to keep him entertained? probably.

but if he knew you were on the other side with your ear pressed against the door and your panties already wet thinking about him, he might be able to forgive himself.

divider credit to @/cafekitsune

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

SDV + SVE bachelors and bachelorettes when the farmer tells them that they really like their name?

Sure thing, dear anon! Thanks for the ask ❤️

_________________________________________

SDV/SVE bachelors:

Heh, Sam became shy by Farmer's compliment, because he knows that they specifically meant his full name, Samson (means "sun"), the one he told them about recently. Not that he thinks it's a bad name, not at all, but Sam sounds more familiar and easier somehow. Oh, and he was teased a bit at school for Samson, but nothing serious! Sammy thanks Farmer for the compliment, but still asks them not to tell anyone his full name, okay?

Yeah, sure... "A gift from Yoba," what a joke... Shane would have laughed if he didn't feel like crap. He'd never really liked his name before, and he'd even considered changing it to something else, but he didn't have the time to deal with the paperwork, and didn't have the money to pay the legal fees. Especially since he was already used to the name, and honestly, after the compliment from Farmer... Maybe it wasn't such a bad name, after all.

Uh... Thanks, Farmer, for this, probably? Sebastian hadn't gotten many compliments in his life, well, at least not from his friends. Much less a compliment on his name. What does the name mean? He doesn't really know, honestly. Sebby wasn't particularly interested in that sort of thing. He would act a little awkward and a slight blush would cover his cheeks, but emo wouldn't forget to thank Farmer for kind words.

Thanks, Farmer. Alex's full name, by the way, is Alexander, and when he was a kid, his mother explained that the name means "defender of mankind." Cool, isn't it? It was also the name of a famous dude who conquered a huge part of the ancient world and the one where Stardew Valley is now located... or something like that, the athlete didn't pay much attention in history class. Well, whatever. Anyway, Alex thanks Farmer for the compliment and suggests hanging out on the beach.

Quite unexpected and unusual, as no one had ever paid Harvey such a compliment before, but thank you! The doctor didn't pay much attention to the origin of his name at all. Just Harvey, pretty common male name in Republic. But after Farmer's words, he was a little curious. Poking around on the internet after work, Harvey found a lot of information on both the origin and great men with the same name. Hmm, it's means "battle worthy", interesting...

Why, thank you so much Farmer, Elliott is pleasantly flattered! He also likes his own name. The origin story of which, by the way, is shrouded in mystery and obscurity. One of the most common meanings has to do with Yoba and has religious meaning, other books he's read have written that it translates to "noble warrior." Intriguing, isn't it? Mysteries or not, the writer is quite happy with the name his parents chose.

*Chuckle* Quite unique name, isn't it? Even a little prophetic, in a sense, as Lance's main weapon against enemies and monsters is a lance (a type of spear). Other sources say the name means "land". Although the gallant adventurer will reveal a little secret to Farmer and tell them that his full name is actually Lancelot. His parents named him so in honour of one of the family's ancestors, who was a noble knight of the Order. Yes, his family has quite a history. Maybe someday Lance will tell Farmer about it... Please accept his gratitude for kind words.

Victor had just recently read a book about the origins and mysteries of different names in the Ferngill Republic, and naturally he looked up his name first of all. Well, the fact that it means "victory" can be guessed immediately and without sources, but the origin... So many sources and so many interesting facts! Oh, sorry Victor, he got a little carried away. And thanks for the compliment, Farmer.

Well actually, Farmer was partly right when, while praising Magnus' name, they also said that it's a rather unique and rare name. That's true, though rare among ordinary people. Among a society of wizards and witches, such as the Castle Village, it's quite a common name. ...Fine, even in the wizards community, the name Magnus is a bit unusual. Did you know, young adept, that your birth name can affect destiny? It's true, and he can tell them above this in his spare time.

SDV/SVE bachelorettes:

Oooh, Emily thanks Farmer and starts telling them quite a long story about all the facts the gem lover knows. That the names chosen by her and Farmer's parents/guardians affect their lives, what kind of character Emily has, that the general character traits of people with the name Emily born in spring are different from the same name bearers born in fall, and so on, for a very long time. No particular complaints, Emily has a great way of telling for that sort of thing.

Hmm, "Haley"... She'd told Farmer before that her name meant "hay-cleaning", which Haley herself was somehow not very fond of. Like, really, her name is so pretty and cute, and this lame hay? She just wishes it meant something else. Her sister's name, for example, was translated from an ancient language as "worthy rival," which was ok and at least interesting. And hers was... just hay clearing. Oh, well, what she do now?

Abigail is surprised by the compliment a bit, but the purple-haired girl is pleased to hear it, thanks Farmer. Hey, want to know something funny? The meaning of her name was one way to tease her father: Abigail translates to "father's joy," which is pretty ironic, since her dad's "joy" is when Abby is helping her mom in the kitchen and not hanging out in the graveyard with a sword. Though considering how much Pierre picked on her for this hobbies, that fact isn't really funny...

"Thanks, got this for my birthday!" It was like Maru had waited forever to say that joke. It turned out comical, Farmer agrees. Jokes aside, but the young inventor is pleasantly flattered by the compliment and thanks her friend for the kind words. As far as her father had told her, according to some sources the name seemed to have roots from the Gotoro Empire, others from the Republic... But Maru had always been more immersed in astronomy and physics than in searching for the mysteries of her name.

Penny blushed slightly at the compliment and tried to hide her face behind her book. It was a complete surprise to her that the new Farmer would give such a compliment to her name on their first greeting. Watching them go about their business farther away, the young teacher thought at first that she had been teased somehow, but the compliment was sincere.... She hadn't gotten many compliments for her name or... anything at all before.

Heh, Farmer should thank Leah's folks for this, they named her that. Well, the artist will say thanks and keep painting. ...Hm? Oh, Farmer waiting for some interesting fact about her name from Leah? Oh well, there are a lot of options: her name means "cow" (charming, isn't it?) or "antelope" (well, it's a bit more favorable, although the girl has nothing against cows. They're cute), or "ruler" - in general, there are a lot of theories... Leah didn't really dwell on it, to be fair.

Sophia was at first easily surprised by the compliment, and on automatic told Farmer thank you. But a couple minutes later, as she started to say more facts about the name, she was paralyzed by memories. That very memory... When little Sophia had asked her mom what does her name means. "Wisdom," replied the smiling mother, and her father nearby started the story of their choice of a name for her. Pardon Farmer, she- she needed a moment...

If Farmer's assumption was that Olivia's name had something to do with olives, they would be quite right. "Olive tree," to be precise. Her name was popularized by a famous writer who wrote an interesting comedy where one of the characters was a rich and beautiful woman with the same name. Farmer agrees with Olivia, right? Also beautiful... And so is her name, heh. Olivia also won't forget to say thank you to the kind Farmer for their words.

Oh, Claire was almost embarrassed at the sudden compliment, but thanked Farmer for the nice words. Though the cashier didn't quite get it about Farmer being told that her name was rare and unique. Really? From what she remembered, the name was pretty common, at least from where she lived, there were definitely at least two people she knew with the name Claire.

It's a cool name, isn't it? Scarlett thanks Farmer and invites them to hang out at her house, maybe play a board game, or she shows them the new costume she's making for the next comicon. What? Uh, what does the name mean? The color red! (Even tho green is her favorite). And that's the color she's gonna use for her new cosplay! Pass her the hammer please, she's about to add a couple details quickly...

[aaplecore]

Your Usual

(Yelena Belova x fem!reader)

Summary : Yelena, your regular at the 24 hour diner you work at, finally gets the courage to admit what’s been in her mind.

Warnings / tags : fluff, Russian pet names (Красотка : Gorgeous, Золотце : Darling)

Notes : idk where I was going with this but I love Yelena so much like I need thunderbolts NOW i’m frothing at the mouth

also, plsplspls lmk if any of the Russian is incorrect, i do not speak Russian this was all from google <3

Recently, to make ends meet, you’d been working at a 24 hour diner as a waitress. It wasn’t a half bad job. The usual Karens every now and then, some creeps, but not anything you couldn’t handle. Plus, frye diner was just outside the most busy part of New York… and pretty close to the Avengers tower. Although you’d never fangirl, every now and then, you’d see an Avenger stop by for a 2am cup of coffee.

It wasn’t a regular occurrence, really, until one Avenger in particular started visiting. At first, the woman would come in maybe every other week. Then once a week, then before you knew it, she was nearly in your section every other day. Specifically in your section. Never any of the other girls sections.

Over time, you had managed to get to know her a little bit. All you really knew was that she was an Avenger—or, at least, something of the sort—and that she seemed to be there more often because of something with her sister, Natasha. Honestly, you kind of grew to like her. At first, she was definitely hostile. She’d barely speak a word to you. But, then, after a few weeks passed, you started hearing that Russian accent more often. You definitely couldn’t call her talkative, but it seemed like you broke through some sort of outer shell. You even saw her smile every now and then, although it was a rare sight.

Today, like most other days, the blonde came in late at night. You couldn’t help but stare at her eyeliner each and every time you saw her again. It was somehow messy but perfect at the exact same time. Plus, it brought out her eyes.

Anyway, besides you getting lost staring at her eyes for a second, it was just like normal.

“Yelena, hey. I see they sat you at your usual table?”

You walked over, seeing her looking back up at you just made you smile. Even though she didn’t seem like the kind of person who was big on expressing emotions to people she didn’t trust… you could’ve sworn you saw the faintest smile on her face seeing you each time. Plus, every time you saw her you knew you had a big tip in store—courtesy of Tony Stark’s card—so, y’know, added bonus.

“Of course. Can you just get me—“

Yelena starts, before you quickly interrupt her.

“A white russian? It’ll be out in five minutes.”

Yelena smirks when you interrupted her. She liked having someone who seemed to know her so well… even despite the fact that you had only known each other through the diner.

“Why call it that? I just want a coffee with vodka, you’re so… extra, Красотка (Krasotka).”

She chuckles quietly, her accent thick, as per usual when she calls you her favorite Russian pet names. You never really understood them but, still, you got the jest and it made your heart flutter a little each time.

“Because I want you to feel special, Yelena. I’ll be back out with your drink soon.”

You smile at her sweetly, turning around to put her drink order in before she can make any more comments. Yelena’s heart does that weird somersault thing that she’s really not used to when you say you want her to be special. She’s really not used to the whole idea of being… special. Dangerous, sure. Hostile, absolutely. But special? Not really.

A few minutes later, you return with Yelena’s drink and place it right in front of her.

“There you go. Anything else, Yelena?”

Yelena just smirks up at you. For weeks now, Kate has been egging her on to do something about the waitress she’s been crushing on. I mean, Yelena never got all flustered around anyone. She just seemed to have a weak spot for you. Every time you talked, you were sweet, you cared about her, but you were never boring. And god knows Yelena hates boring more than anything.

Kate knew how hard it was for her after what happened to Natasha. I mean, she literally tried to kill Clint Barton as a sort of revenge plan. So, she was doing anything in her power to get her back to normal. And when she was around you, it seemed like she was. At least, more so than around most anyone else. And, therefore, getting her confident enough to ask you out was the perfect plan.

And now, Yelena couldn’t really avoid Kate’s nagging anymore. Or at least that was her excuse.

“Yes, actually. Go on a date with me.”

Yelena says bluntly, causing your face to heat up almost immediately. She just smiles a little wider, her heart inexplicably racing as she waits for your response. Somehow, an ex red-room assassin is nervous about asking a girl out.

“A date… like- uh, like, now?”

You stutter, smiling a little. It was, admittedly, a little bit of a shock that she was asking you out.

“Yes. Like, now.”

She shrugs, mocking the way you speak—as she so often does—a little. She was full on smiling at this point, too.

“When do you get done with your waitressing?”

Her head cocks to the side, sipping her drink casually, as if this was just a normal occurrence for her.

“My shift ends in… three minutes, actually.”

You say, realizing how perfect the timing was. Maybe this was sort of meant to be.

“Perfect. Then you’ll come out here and meet me in three minutes?”

Yelena asks, seemingly setting your plans in stone before you had even said yes. At least she was confident.

“I- yeah. Yes, three minutes.”

You nod frantically, turning around to grab her check and finish up with your other tables—which were, thankfully, sparse at this hour—so you can go be with Yelena immediately. You never would’ve thought you’d be leaving work with Yelena of all people.

Before you know it, your shift is done and you’re already walking down the street with Yelena, standing close to her, but not quite holding her hand or anything. You’re almost nervous to be too direct.

“Yelena, where are we going?”

You ask, glancing over at Yelena, who seems to have a place in mind, just based on the way she’s walking. Or maybe she just always walks this confidently.

“I’m taking you to buy ice cream.”

She shrugs, glancing over at you too. This is your opportunity. Subtly, you reach over to try and slowly take a hold of her hand… and, to your slight surprise, she jolts away, as if you just burnt her.

“Shit, sorry, I- I—“

You start to apologize before Yelena’s pinky is wrapped around yours, stopping you in your tracks. You look down at your hands. Her nails are painted with cracked black nail polish.

“No, no, don’t apologize, Золотце (zoloste). It’s okay.”

She reassures you, shaking her head. The little bit of reassurance is enough. You nudge her shoulder, although she doesn’t falter, just laughs a little and pulls you around a corner.

“Where is this ice cream place, anyway?”

You ask, following along with her, gently swinging your arms. She smiles again, rolling her eyes.

“So impatient. You see that little park? In there. Next to a pond.”

She points ahead of you two no more than a block away to the open entrance to a lucious green park. You didn’t think she had it in her to pick such a… well, such a romantic spot.

Not two minutes later, you’re ordering yourself a cone of chocolate ice cream. Yelena orders a cone of pistachio. But, really, it’s not the ice cream that matters. She takes you to this little spot—right in the middle of a bridge—overlooking the pond, the lights gently reflecting off the water. For a minute, you’re both just standing there quietly, leaning over the bridge. Until you break the silence.

“Yelena?”

“Yes, Красотка (Krasotka)?”

“Why’d you ask me out?”

You ask bluntly, licking your ice cream. The way she looks at you, you’d think you just tried to explain trigonometry to a second grader.

“What do you mean why did I ask you out?”

She asks, reaching over and placing her hand on your hip, shifting so she’s standing behind you, her head resting on her shoulder.

“I asked you out because I wanted to go on a date with you. Because you are so cute… and I think I might like you.”

She says jokingly, swaying your hips gently, lightly pressing a kiss to her neck. It seems like she’s fully warmed up to you now, that’s for sure. The feeling of her lips on you sends a little shiver down your spine.

“Good enough for me.”

You reply quietly, giggling when she starts kissing your neck over and over, getting a little more clingy.

The way she holds onto you is so gentle, and yet her grip is tight. It’s like she might lose you if she lets go or break you if she grips too tight. You can tell, even with all of the confident air she’s putting up, she’s… nervous. It’s cute.

Not too long later, Yelena walks you back to your little apartment, holding your pinky the entire time. It’s a sweet little gesture. Especially for her. This woman, who had once been so hostile and who is still absolutely intimidating, is now blushing over holding your pinky. Like a middle schooler.

“Well, this is me.”

You mutter, standing outside your apartment, looking up sadly. You don’t want to leave her just yet.

“Let me have your number, Золотце (zoloste). I will keep in contact with you.”

Yelena says quickly, clearly not willing to let this be the last time she sees you. Plus, i’ve you’ve learned nothing else about her tonight, you’ve learned how persistent and how blunt she can be.

“Okay. Yeah.”

You nod quickly, pulling out your phone to let her enter her contact. She quickly types it in and hands it back to you.

“You promise to text me?”

Yelena asks quietly, her tone suddenly shifting to something a little more nervous. She seems vulnerable. You just smile softly at her and reach up, slowly, gently, very carefully cupping her cheek in your hand. The blush that spreads on her face is very obvious. Without wasting another moment, you lean in and kiss her. For a second, she seems shocked, almost hesitant. But, after a moment, her hands are back on your waist, gently wrapping around you.

“Of course. Every day, if you want.”

You say quietly, nodding. She smiles a little bit more, almost a sheepish look on her face.

“Sounds perfect, Красотка (krasotka). I- I will see you soon.”

She nods, leaning down to kiss you once more, just quickly this time. When she pulls away, she lets go of you, allowing you to walk back to the door of your apartment. Of course, you turn around once more to see her and she’s still looking at you. Watching to make sure you got home safely.

“Спокойной ночи (spakoynay nochee).”

She calls, causing you to tilt your head to the side in confusion.

“Goodnight.”

She clarifies, laughing a little and waving to you.

“Oh! Goodnight, Yelena.”

You call back, walking into your apartment, a smile still plastered on your face.