#<- for blacklist but who knows if i’ll keep this up

[p1astr81]

second chances

in which: Lando tries to get his ex girlfriend back.

pairing: Lando Norris x pop star!fem!reader

genre: angst/fluff

warnings: cursing

an: this is part 2 of “second place”, but I think it could also make sense as a stand-alone.

part 1

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ ‧ *

Performing with the wound of a breakup fresh in your heart was difficult, but the roaring crowds and their endless support made it a little easier.

You just finished up yet another show, the twelfth one since you’d broken off things with Lando three weeks ago. Kiké—knowing how hard the breakup was for you—walked in silence next to you and you navigated the backstage area. He simply offered his presence, which was a mild—but much appreciated—comfort to you.

Your eyes were trained on the way the dim lights made your boots sparkle. The last song on the setlist was the most emotional for you. A love song written for Lando. You nearly cried while singing it, and were struggling to keep it together even now.

Kiké only left your side once you reached the door of your dressing room. “Can you travel on the bus with me again?” You asked him softly. Between the last city and this one, Kiké joined you on your tour bus. Usually, he’d fly between locations with the other dancers, but he was more then happy to spend time with you.

He nodded. “Absolutely. We have to finish our show.” He joked, getting a smile out of you.

You bade him goodbye, and stepping into your dressing room. As soon as the door was closed, you let the tears fall, letting the door support your weight as you tried to not crumple to the floor.

A soft call of your name broke through the sounds of your sobs. You gasped, straightening up and reaching for the door handle. Your flight response automatically ceased when your gaze met Lando’s.

Your eyes narrowed. “Shouldn’t you be in Spain?” The tone of your voice was venomous, but he chose not to take offense to it.

“Yes, but I wanted to see you.”

You scoffed at that. “Who even let you in here?”

“Your security. I assume you haven’t told them?” You didn’t answer his inquiry, but that was answer enough.

“Look, I know I treated you like shit and I was never here for you, but I want to be.” A little late for that, you wanted to say. But you settled for a roll of your eyes. “And these past weeks have made me realize that life without you sucks.”

A heavy sigh fell from your lips ass you pushed off the door. You wandered over to your desk, and began taking your makeup off. Lando, left in silence and without a response, continued to sit quietly on the couch.

You glanced at him through he mirror. He was fumbling around with his fingers. “You can’t just show up here and expect me to take you back.”

Lando met your eyes through the reflection. “I know. But I really do mean it. Even if we’re just friends, that’s enough for me.” The fact you hadn’t told him to fuck off yet was honestly a step in the right direction for him.

Your eyes found the cotton pad more interesting than him. “I don’t know. You made me feel like I wasn’t worthy of your time. You can’t just fix that with a sorry.”

He stood from his spot on the couch and cautiously stepped to your side. “I’ll be better. Every show I can squeeze into my schedule, I’ll be there.” He nodded.

Having missed the feel of your skin on his, he wanted to reach out, place a hand on your shoulder, or your arm. But he refrained from doing so.

Considering his proposition, you bit your lip. “You said that before, Lan.” You muttered. He heard the disappointment in your voice and wanted to curse himself out for it.

He nodded. “And I regret not following through but I promise this time. And if I don’t honor it, that’s it. I’ll never bother you again.”

It was a terrible idea. You knew it was. Opening your heart up to him again, giving him all the power to tear it in two once more, it was risky. But with a sigh, you accepted. “One slip up, Norris, and I’m blacklisting you from my shows.” You joked.

———

In the coming weeks, Lando honored his promise to its fullest extent, and then some. Even the shows you didn’t expect him to be at—the ones that fell on a Sunday night, only a few hours after a race—he was there.

He’d even spend a couple hours after the shows with you in your tour bus before he inevitably needed to catch a flight.

So after a month of him showing up consistently, and proving himself, you finally gave into him.

It was after one of your shows, you were sat in the tour bus as it stood stationary. The both of you were planted on the couch, your legs across Lando’s lap. You’d been talking for the last hour and a half about seemingly nothing. And then you licked your lips, and bit your lip softly before calling his name. He looked to you with big brown eyes like a little doe. “I think you’ve proved that you’ve changed.” Lando’s brows raised, hopeful. “And… if you’d still want to-“

“Yes.” He replied without even letting you finish. “Sorry.” His gaze shifted to his hands which sat on your bare legs. His cheeks went red. “Continue.”

You laughed and shook your head. “No, I think you got the point.” You sifted in your seat, and leaned forward to plant a gentle kiss on his cheek.

[coolkidstable]

started my rewatch of outer banks to prep for season 4 and it’s occurred to me that no one really knows how autistic i am about this show

[flaggermuser]

Home Is Where His Heart Is

1,266 words || Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Past Trauma, CPTSD, minor spoilers for Season 4 Episode 4, GN Reader, Doctor Reader, Happy Ending, Codependency ||

Sequel to When You Loved Me which contains spoilers for Season 4 Episode 4

Divider made badly by me

Thank you to @theonlymanintheskyisme for being my beta hostage and @homeb0ys for always having the perfect gif or picture

“You should have been raised in a home with a family who loved you.”

It’s 1 am.

The frantic knocking had woken you with a start and you’d rushed to put a robe on, carefully walking down the stairs, concerned about who was at your door this late at night.

Turning on the light in the hall, you slowly advance towards the door, undoing the various locks but keeping the chain on, opening the door enough to peek through the gap only to close it again and remove the chain, then open the door.

“John?”

Homelander stands before you, trembling with red-tinged eyes. He falls forward and you just about catch him, his arms around you tight, being careful not to crush you.

“Oh, John,” you say softly. “Shhh, it’s okay, it’s okay. The room can’t hurt you anymore.”

You knew this would happen.

Underneath it all, he’s still that scared little boy you cared for, the one you held in your arms when he cried, the one you’d tuck into bed when he exhausted himself.

After everything they did and, despite the affection you showed him, it’s no surprise that he had nightmares.

Even the most powerful man in the world isn’t immune to night terrors.

You pull away just enough, managing a smile and cupping his cheek in your hand, wiping away some residual tears.

“Come on, I’ve got a spare room. It won’t be as luxurious as what you’re used to but it’s yours for as long as you need it.”

He doesn’t say a word, he just quickly nods his head so you move out of the way, welcoming him back into your home. You’re not sure if he had anything to bring with him or left in such a hurry that he couldn’t grab anything.

However, you were prepared for this.

There was always going to be an attachment, you’d followed his life, unable to let go of the little boy you left behind. It seems now that the attachment goes both ways, not that you mind.

The prodigal son has returned home.

You’re making up for lost time, repenting for your sins.

“I doubt that’s very comfortable to sleep in,” you remark about his suit, only for him to silently agree. “I bought some things for you, just in case.”

“Thank you.”

It’s a whisper, barely audible.

“Come on then.”

It’s nice.

Homelander is used to the opulence that comes with being the Leader of the Seven but somehow, being in a simple bed in a room barely the size of his bathroom is the most comfortable he’s been in years, dressed in simple cotton pyjamas.

It didn’t seem to matter to you that he was a grown man in his 40s, you’d still tucked him in and kissed him on the forehead.

Whether that was a conscious or subconscious decision, he doesn’t know and he doesn’t care, it makes him feel safe, just as it did when he was young. However, instead of being alone in a sterile room, he’s in a spare room in your home and you’re just down the hall if he needs anything.

But he has everything he needs.

His eyes slowly drift close and he begins to fall asleep, his mind going to a place of peace. It’s been some time since he’s been able to sleep soundly since he wasn’t plagued with horrendous memories.

The last time he felt this safe, this secure, was when you were there.

“It’s okay John, you get some sleep and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Even in his sleep, he can feel the smile spreading across his lips, feeling his body melt into the bed. He's never felt this kind of love before, the love of a parent, of someone who truly cared about him to the point they ruined their career.

Of course, once he found you, he did some digging into what happened between you being fired from Vought and when he showed up at your door.

You were blacklisted from scientific pursuits - Vought was determined to keep you silenced.

So you took up a job as a science teacher in a nearby high school, just barely making enough money to afford a comfortable life yet it didn’t seem to have bothered you. After all, you’d managed to buy a nice enough home in a remotely good neighbourhood.

Plus without a partner or children to support, you didn’t have to worry.

Yet he feels bad for you, after all, he’s the reason you’ve spent most of your life alone, atoning for your guilt over abandoning him. In his dreams, he imagines what life with you may have been like; waking up every day to pancakes, going to little league games, getting an A on his test and putting it on the fridge.

You would have made the fake childhood real.

However, now you’re more than making up for it.

“I want you to know, John. I need you to know, that you’ll always have a place here and in my heart."

And for once, he can believe it.

Morning comes.

Light peaking in between the curtains stirs him awake.

For the first time in a long time, maybe for the first time he can ever remember, he’s slept through the night unhindered by nightmares. All thanks to a cosy little bed and a kiss goodnight on the forehead.

For a childless person, you’re incredibly nurturing.

As he trudges down the stairs, still half asleep, he manages to find the kitchen where a big stack of pancakes with bacon, accompanied by a glass of milk, sits on the table, on a place setting almost hastily put together.

It seems as if you don’t get company often.

He’ll be more than happy to change that.

“Good morning, John. How are you feeling today?”

He knows the words before you speak them, he’d heard them from you often enough, in the months when he saw you daily.

Before they made you leave him.

“Did you sleep okay?”

I don’t remember the last time I slept better.

He nods, taking his seat, eagerly digging into the breakfast you’ve made him. The parental domestication of it all warms his heart and his soul, enough to keep a small part of his humanity alive.

“Good?”

Vought has access to all the top chefs in the world, able to make anything his heart could desire but nothing they’ve made tastes anywhere as good as these simple pancakes.

A premade mix or made from scratch, they’re a damn sight tastier than anything he’s had before.

Maybe there is some truth behind the saying ‘made with love’.

“Yes, thank you, Tawny.”

You still, and he can hear your heart beating a little faster as you press your hand to your mouth. You’re trying to hold back your tears, but it’s clear that you recall the same memory, one they tried so hard to erase in his mind.

“What’s your favourite animal?”

“Well John, I like owls because, just like me, they’re awake at night. I like tawny owls the best.”

Tawny.

It’s a simple nickname, one he came to associate with you as a parent, as his parent.

He remembers back when he was reading a book on Roman mythology, one of the many books on history that he read, where owls in ancient myth were described as symbols of wisdom and knowledge.

It also represented foresight, intelligence and the ability to see what others cannot.

Where they all saw an experiment, you saw a little boy in desperate need of love.

“You’re welcome, John.”

[kwanisms]

Kinktober 「10:21」 — l.seokmin

» seventeen menu | dokyeom menu | kinktober masterlist «

➮ gargoyle!Seokmin × fem!Reader wc: 3.7k summary: Nights are the only time Seokmin can truly live as he spends his days frozen in the glow of the sun. Night was also the time when his human girlfriend would come to pay him a visit. genres/themes/au: fluff, smut; supernatural, horror, thriller; non idol au, monster idol au warnings: adult dialogue, female reader, supernatural and horror themes, slight religious themes, mentions of: physical abuse (by parents), attempted forced marriage, slut-shaming, place of religious worship; sexual content (18+ mdni), see smut warnings under the cut! taglist has been moved to reblogs join my taglists! kinktober taglist is CLOSED! Strikethrough means I cannot tag you.  MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED. AGELESS BLOGS WILL ALSO BE BLOCKED.

a/n: normally i have a very hard time writing for seokmin but this just came naturally and i’m really glad. Usually it’s so difficult for me to capture him but this time around things went well and I’m very pleased with what I’ve written. I hope you like it and thank you for reading! We have ten fics left for Kinktober after this starting week 4 with naga!Seonghwa which I’m quite excited about. as always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only.

smut warnings: teratophilia (aka monsterfucking), thigh riding (f receiving), orgasm control (f receiving), use of pet names (hers: angel, sweetheart, darling, etc.; his: Minnie, baby, etc.), unprotected sex (use protection pls), and i think i got them all but if i missed any, let me know! kinks: Thigh riding + orgasm control dialogue prompt: ❛❛ Come here. I’ll show you how to make yourself feel good. ❜❜

═══════════════════════════════════════════════════════

Your footsteps rang out as you walked across the stone streets, heels clicking with each determined step. You glanced up as you rounded the corner, taking in the imposing structure of the cathedral. It wasn’t the largest by any means but it was still large enough and stood out among the other buildings with the wide sweeping steps that led up to the massive oak front doors.

The stone work was impressive, life sized statues carved into the facade that showed various important figures in the Catholic lexicon. You didn’t really know their names or faces as you weren’t exactly a churchgoing woman. You’d only started visiting this church when you were down on your luck, running out of places to sleep having been thrown out of the house after an argument with your parents.

Since then, you lived your life on the streets at the mercy of kind strangers like the archdeacon of this cathedral. He had known your parents and condemned them for throwing you away like you were nothing but common garbage. He gave you shelter and food and even helped you get back on your feet.

You now had a small apartment on the edge of town and a steady income having finished school. Truthfully, you had no reason to keep coming back to this church, at least not one that those who attended knew of. You were the godless daughter that had been casted out of the sanctuary of your home. As far as the congregation knew, you deserved it.

Why else would your parents, apparent upstanding members of the church, kick their only child out onto the streets just before the start of winter? The whispers started soon after and despite the archdeacon’s very public condemnation of your parents actions, the rumors continued to circulate.

“They must have had a good reason.”

“No parent just throws their child out without a good reason.”

“I heard she’s been spending a lot of time with that good for nothing butcher’s son.”

“Maybe she’s pregnant.” “What are harlot.”

“Whore.”

“Slut.”

All of the accusations whispered behind hands were the furthest from the truth. You didn’t even know the butcher’s son. The argument between you and your parents had been about school. Your father didn’t want you attending university, making it plain that he wanted you to marry as soon as possible and move out of the house. He had a handful of prospects for you, all of which were his co-workers and friends. 

Men all nearly twice your age. You refused, telling him you would rather die than marry one of his old friends. He had struck you across the face and you retaliated by defending yourself with a knife taken from the kitchen knife block.

The damage, while not serious, had been done and you were cast out into the street to fend for yourself.

Your reason for continuing to visit the church, albeit when everyone else was gone, was a simple one. Well, simple to you. You were visiting a friend. Not the archdeacon, though you did visit him from time to time to update him on your progress. He had taken the role of father figure in your life and you were grateful for everything he’d done for you.

No, your friend was much more… hidden. Obscured.

You happened upon him while exploring the parts of the cathedral that were off limits to the rest of the congregation. The archdeacon allowed you to explore the cathedral as it was now your home and you took his invitation immediately, familiarizing yourself with the back hallways and rooms that no one else got to see.

The one area he asked that you not visit was the bell tower. You listened to his request for the most part until the curiosity became too much to bear and one day, you snuck up there to see why it was off limits. It was old, the wood creaked underfoot and everything was covered in dust and cobwebs.

The stone however was structurally sound and as you explored, you came across the most beautifully carved statue you’d ever laid eyes on. He had the most handsome face you’d ever seen, from his sharp jawline to his pointed nose and his eyes that seemed extremely lifelike.

He looked like he’d been carved by the gods, the lean body with rippling muscles. The clothes, also carved from the same stone, fit him loosely but clung to his torso, outlining the curve of his chest. You were in awe of the statue as you circled the pedestal it stood on. It wasn’t carved from the facade of the stone wall like the others. He looked like he’d been carved somewhere else and transported here.

As you moved around to the back of the statue, you noticed through slits cut into the shirt a pair of leathery bat-like wings protruding from the back of the statue. As you moved back around, the dying light of the setting sun cast a golden glow over the pale facade of the stone statue, deep shadows settling in the recess of the eyes.

You stepped even closer, noticing what looked like a speck of dirt on his cheek. You raised your hand, prepared to wipe it away when the sound of the door at the bottom of the tower opened and you heard a voice calling for you. 

You shied away from the statue and hurried down the steps and back to the ground floor.

The archdeacon wasn’t entirely upset that you had disobeyed his words and when you asked about the statue, he told you the story. It was said to have been a man at one point but he was cursed for some crime and as punishment for his sins, he was cursed to turn into stone every day but at night, he came alive. You asked about the wings, asking if he was a demon.

The archdeacon was amused with your question and he understood the reasoning behind your question. It was then that explained what gargoyles were. You knew what a gargoyle was but you’d never seen one so beautiful before. The archdeacon raised a brow at your choice of words but he understood. Most of the gargoyles on the outside of the cathedral were grotesque and hideous.

Now that you’d snuck up to the top of the belltower, the archdeacon didn’t forbid you from entering and instead asked that you limit your time up there and just be careful as it was a long way down should something happen.

You had taken to going up to the top of the belltower during services to avoid the judgmental gazes and whispered words of the congregation as well as to avoid seeing your parents who for whatever reason had decided to continue attending mass despite the archdeacon’s position on their actions.

You would often bring your sketchbook and pencils up with you and sketch the gargoyle for hours, studying the way the light would hit the stone and cast shadows as well as how it seemed to glow, the bits of quartz in the stone sparkling in the sunlight.

You had pages upon pages of sketches of the statue. Your draw to it was obvious to anyone who happened on your sketchbook. You had been up there for hours as evening mass dragged on until finally, as the sun was setting, the doors to the cathedral opened and the congregation spilled out onto the streets while you slept.

Until you were woken abruptly by the bell ringing. You covered your ears, cursing yourself internally for falling asleep while still up at the top of the belltower. You crawled over to the edge of the tower, peering over the railing as the bells subsided. From up here, everyone looked so small, like tiny ants running around. You let out a sigh, sitting back on your heels.

“I’ve been up here long enough,” you murmured as the sun dipped below the buildings, only a small sliver shining upon the tower. You turned to look over your shoulder at the statue. “I think it’s time I get out of your hair,” you said with a smile, turning to collect your things, placing your pencils back in the case. As you were zipping the pouch, the sound of stone cracking caught your attention.

You looked up, eyes widening in horror as the stone facade of the statue had started to break, cracks appearing along the arms and across the chest. You gasped, looking around and wondering what the hell happened. Was there an earthquake? What could have caused such destruction in the short period you were looking away.

You turned your eyes back towards the statue as the last of the sunlight faded away, the sun disappearing entirely behind the buildings of the city. The cracks appeared quickly along the statue and you cried out as the stone fell apart in an almost explosive fashion, bringing your hands up to shield your face as bits of stone and dust coughed out from the statue, clattering over the stone walkway.

Silence fell over as the dust and small pieces of stone started to settle. Lowering your hands, you turned to look at the statue, expecting the pedestal to be empty but instead, before you, stood a man. He lifted his head, his stone colored eyes meeting yours and you gasped. It was him. The statue. The gargoyle. He was… a man? You stared up at him as he stretched his arms over his head, his wings splaying out behind him like fingers with webbing between them.

He let out a sigh before his eyes fell on you again. “Oh,” he said softly. “Hello.” He gave you a warm smile and you stared back in shock, slowly raising your hand to give him a small wave. “Uh… hi?” you replied, uncertain if you were awake or asleep at the moment. He noticed the sketchbook on the ground. “How long have you been up here?” he asked as he fixed you with a curious gaze.

“Uh… a few hours,” you answered. “I’ve been avoiding Mass,” you added in an undertone. “I see,” he said, nodding. “What’s your name?” he asked, tilting his head. You glanced up at him. “Y-Y/N,” you told him, still kneeling on the floor. His smile returned, reaching his eyes. “Well,” he said, stepping down from the pedestal. “It’s nice to meet you, Y/N,” he continued as he walked over, kneeling down to your level and holding out his hand for you to take.

“I’m Seokmin.”

After that interaction, you learned that Seokmin was indeed a gargoyle and that the story the archdeacon had told you was only partly true. Seokmin had indeed been cursed to live the life of a gargoyle but he had been wrongly convicted and as you slowly got to know him, you could see that was definitely the case. No one, except for the archdeacon, had ever shown you such kindness before.

Seokmin had the face and personality of an angel. Had it not been for the leathery wings attached to his back, you might have mistaken him for an angel upon meeting him. He was kind, caring, passionate, and funny. You started to spend your nights after sundown with him, learning about his past, his likes, his dislikes, everything you could think to ask.

He asked about you a fair bit as well and slowly, a friendship formed. The nights you spent with him meant you barely got any sleep but you managed to still attend your classes and get good marks. Seokmin was your rock during that crucial time in your life. As your relationship grew, feelings beyond that of friends started to develop and after finally revealing your hidden feelings to him, he surprised you by accepting them and even reciprocating them.

It was an odd relationship, being with someone you could only kiss or touch when the sun went down but you made it work. Living in the cathedral made it easier because Seokmin was only a staircase away if you wanted to see him.

Everything changed when you graduated and landed a job. You were no longer dependent on the archdeacon or the church and soon, you would have to move on. The thought terrified you. Joining the real world, becoming a full fledged adult, and leaving Seokmin behind. When you conveyed the worries and fear to him, he reassured you that everything would be fine. 

The night that you told him you would have to leave was the first night you gave yourself to him. Seokmin proved to be a very generous and attentive lover and it was the first of many nights you would return, either to just lay with him until the sun started to break through the buildings or spend all night in the throes of passion.

Even after moving, you returned to the church, sneaking in at night using a side door you had the key for to go up to the belltower and see your lover. Seokmin welcomed you each time, letting you vent your frustrations about life, work, your neighbors and without complaint, he listened to it all. He then spent the rest of the night soothing your worries and frustrations with his words or with his hands and mouth.

As soon as he had his hands on you, it was all over and you became putty to him, easy to bend and shape the way he wanted until he could break your frustrations by driving you over the edge of ecstasy. Sometimes, you visited him just to have him spend the night making love to you. Either way, Seokmin didn’t mind. He loved having you under him, tangled in the sheets of an old bed left up in the belltower for storage. It was the very same bed where you gave yourself to him the first time.

Using the key, you unlocked the side door, opening and shutting it behind you softly before turning back to the short hallway and crossing to the doorway that led to the stairs up to the belltower. The climb up the steps was familiar as you pulled your hood down, hurrying up the rickety wooden staircase. As you reached the top, you glanced towards the pedestal. The sun had long since set and the stone pedestal was empty. You looked around the room, noticing the form in the bed.

You walked over slowly, removing your shoes and then pulling off your coat, letting it fall to the floor as you moved closer. You’d chosen to throw your coat on over your sleep clothes, a silky tank top and matching shorts with lace along the hems. The dark green color looked lovely against your skin and you knew if Seokmin had anything to do with it, you wouldn’t be wearing it for long.

You climbed onto the bed, the mattress creaking under your weight as you crawled towards Seokmin. As you reached him, he opened his eyes, smiling at you as you crawled over him, straddling his lap as his hands moved to rest against your thighs. “Hi,” he said softly as you leaned over, pressing a kiss to his lips. “Hi,” you murmured.

His hands slid up your thighs to your waist, humming as his fingers skimmed over your shorts. “Did you wear this for me?” he asked softly, fingers toying with the silky material. You shook your head slowly, reaching down to grab the bottom of your tank top, pulling it off over your head and revealing a lace bra in the same shade of green that decorated your skin, barely covering anything.

Seokmin’s eyes widened as he took it in, hands moving up to cup your chest. “So you wore this for me, then?” he asked, smile widening as you giggled, nodding. He sat up, pulling you against his bare chest as he captured your lips in a slow, tantalizing kiss, his lips moving against yours lazily.

“To what do I owe this visit?” he whispered between kisses as his hands moved down, sliding over the curve of your ass. “Do I need a reason to visit my boyfriend?” you asked, taking his face in your hands as you pressed your lips against his again. He pulled your hips against him, grinding your cloth covered core over his hardening cock. “No,” he replied. “I guess not.”

You continued to drag your clothed pussy over his cock. “Sweetheart,” he groaned, hips bucking up to meet yours. “I’d like to try something.” You pulled back, hands moving to his shoulders as you slowed your movements. “Hmm?” you asked, tilting your head curiously.

He reached up, cupping your cheek. “Have you ever thought about my thighs?” he asked, catching you off guard. “Seokmin,” you started leaning in to press your lips against his. “I always think about you. I think about every part of you.” He chuckled against your lips, pushing you back slightly. “Take your shorts off, darling. I want to try something different tonight.”

You gave him a curious look but obliged him, climbing off his lap to slide your shorts down, keeping your panties on as you discarded the silk bottoms. You started to climb over his lap but he stopped you. “No, no,” he said softly. You gave him a confused look as he started to move you. “Come here,” he said, guiding you over his thigh. “I’ll show you how to make yourself feel good.” 

You let out a gasp as he pushed your hips down, your clothed cunt coming into contact with his bare thigh. “You want me to ride your thigh?” you asked softly as he kept one hand on the small of your back, the other moving up to take your chin gently. “Can you do that for me, angel? Can you make yourself feel good using just my thigh?”

You nodded slowly, leaning in to kiss him once more as you slowly started to move, dragging your wet panties over his thigh. The friction against your clit made you gasp softly. Seokmin followed your movements with his hand on your back, urging you to move a little faster.

The more you moved, the wetter your panties and his thigh got. “That’s it baby,” he whispered, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. Your lips parted and you sucked his thumb into your mouth, tongue swirling around it as you continued to rut against him. You moaned, moving fast. “Woah, slow down there, angel,” Seokmin murmured, putting a halt to your movements and your orgasm slipping away.

“Minnie,” you whined, looking up at him. “Sorry angel,” he chuckled. “I can’t have you falling apart just yet. Here,” he said, grabbing your hips and starting to guide you again. “Keep going.” You kept your eyes on him, narrowed as you tried to work out what was going on in that beautiful head of his.

You let out a whimper as you felt him flex under you, forcing your hips down harder against his hard thigh. “Feel good?” he asked softly, watching your face as you started to move faster, taking over your own movements. You nodded wordlessly as you grinded against him harder.

“Look at me sweetheart,” he said softly, raising your chin and forcing you to look at him. “You gonna cum baby?” he asked, a gentle smile on his face as you nodded. He grabbed your hips, stopping you once more. “Minnie!” you hissed, burying your face in the crook of his neck. “Stop doing that!” you whined as your orgasm slipped from your grasp once more.

“Sorry, darling,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “I promise this is the last time,” he added. “Come on, love,” he added, grabbing your hips once more, guiding you over his thigh again, your arousal now smeared over his skin. Letting out a shaky breath, you ignored the burning in your thighs as you resumed rolling your hips, dragging your sensitive, lace clad clit over his skin.

“M-m’close,” you whimpered, walls clenching around nothing as you grinded harder, moving faster. “That’s it, baby,” Seokmin whispered in your ear. “Let go and cum for me. That’s a good girl.” Your thighs shook as you finally came with a whine in Seokmin’s neck as he wrapped his arms around you, holding you up as your orgasm shook your body. “That’s it baby,” he coaxed, letting you ride out your high until you couldn’t move anymore.

“M’sore,” you mumbled, raising your head. “Let me,” he whispered in your ear, gently lifting you off him and laying you back against the bed, his skillful fingers peeling your soaked panties from your body and tossing them aside. He kissed a path up your stomach as he pulled the sheets back, exposing his naked lower half, his hard cock ready for you to take.

“You did so well for me, angel,” he murmured, placing kisses over your lace covered chest and up the side of your neck. “Let me take care of you now,” he whispered in your ear as he kneeled between your spread thighs, guiding the head of his cock to your waiting cunt. You let out a whine as he rubbed the tip against you before pushing the head inside, your walls readily sucking him in as he slowly filled you.

“Minnie,” you gasped as he stilled, cock nestled deep inside you, the tip barely kissing your cervix. He pulled back slowly, cock dragging against your walls before he thrusted forward, filling you once more. “I know baby,” he cooed, leaning over you to place a kiss to each cheek, one to your forehead and finally one to your lips as he set a slow, steady pace, pumping into you with lazy yet calculated strokes.

Another whimper escaped you, sounding from your throat as he started to move a little faster, snapping his hips against you harshly. “I know,” he murmured again, lips ghosting over yours as he fucked into you harder, making small gasps and moans leave your lips. “Minnie, baby,” you gasped, back arching off the bed as he angled his hips, hitting that spot inside you that always had your toes curling and stars invading your vision. “I know, angel,” he cooed again, nuzzling his nose against yours.

“Just let me take care of you, baby.”

©️ kwanisms 2024 | all works on this blog are protected under copyright. Do not repost, continue, or translate my works. All graphics made by me.

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Lena Horne (Cabin in the Sky, Stormy Weather)— Incredibly talented biracial actress, singer, dancer, and activist (she did so much work towards integrating audiences). Because of the racism of the era, she rarely got to be the lead actress but filmmakers loved her so much that they would often create stand alone segments within a film to highlight her beautiful singing, knowing that these segments would ultimately be cut from the film by censors in areas that forbid films with Black performers. Also, she's just so wonderful in Cabin in the Sky as a gold-digger villain who is not the least bit subtle about her intentions. I would highly recommend checking out her work.

Ginger Rogers (Swing Time, Top Hat)—Look I’ll level with you, I’ve never seen her in a musical and I know that she’s an amazing dancer and she’ll be even hotter when I finally watch Top Hat but I’m not submitting her as a dancer I’m submitting her as an ACTRESS. Her comic timing is impeccable!!!!! She’s full to bursting with life and in every role she seems to be having FUN, you can practically feel the twinkle in her eye. With her natural warmth it’s like she’s letting you in on the joke, y’all get to have this fun together! Making me laugh is hot!!! [If you'd like to see Ginger dance, videos below the cut]

This is round 3 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Lena Horne:

64.media.tumblr.com

Black American powerhouse singer and actor who faced all the usual bullshit that any BIPOC faced in vintage Hollywood and achieved legendary status anyway. Also a Civil Rights movement icon.

She was a gem

She was so beautiful and those dimples are amazing! Truly depressing how badly Hollywood treated her because she was black. I would love to have seen what she really could have been if they didn’t cast her in so many yikes roles. She’s got gorgeous eyes and that body! Her joyful smile makes happiness sexy!

Civil rights actress, singer, dancer, actress, she's got the whole package

Lena Horne was a wonderful singer and actress who largely starred in black cast musicals. While she had a lot of main stream success, she ultimately lost the lead role in showboat (a role she had played on the stage) to a white actress due to hollywood's prejudices. She was also blacklisted during the HUAC hearings, but she still managed to be hot be hot as fuck and have a career spanning decades, working with more well-known stars like Judy Garland in musicals, and working on stage and releasing albums when her hollywood career began to suffer.

Miss Horne became famous during a period of time when Hollywood had very few meaningful roles for people of color. Although she is more so known as a performer, she starred in two successful all black productions (Cabin in the Sky & Stormy Weather). If that wasn't enough, she also guest starred on the Muppets (Season 1, Episode 11)

Ginger Rogers propaganda:

She needs no introduction! An undeniable powerhouse on the dancefloor, and no less talented an actress. I once watched a compilation of cinema's greatest dance scenes and one of her and Fred Astaire's dances was featured, and one of the talking heads said he pitied her for 'having to keep up with him' - or something to that effect. Bullshit, I cry. Ginger Rogers was his absolute equal, and underplaying her incredible skill is downright criminal. I want the 'Cheek to Cheek' sequence from Top Hat to be permanently burned into my memory.

"Backwards in high heels", as the saying goes (though the pedant in me must point out that she in fact spent her fair share of time leading or dancing side-by-side). One of the earliest twinkle-toed ladies of the silver screen, and in terms of acting/persona, her balance of wide-eyed cuteness and movie-star glamour has never quite been replicated.

we all know her beloved string of musicals with fred but ginger also has an extensive and varied non-fred filmography that she's great in! a few ginger moments that are important 2 me personally ginger singing “we’re in the money” in gold diggers of 1933, complete with a verse in pig latin bc this whole movie is kinda mocking the concept of anyone actually being in the money in 1933; ginger and una merkel singing a verse of “shuffle off to buffalo” in 42nd street, providing some statler & waldorf-esque commentary on newlyweds from the upper berth of a railway car (interesting that belly was apparently a risque word in 1933 - maybe its bc the lyric is innuendo-ing about out of wedlock pregnancies - and that panties was a term for men’s underthings!); a favorite fred & ginger number

Ginger Rogers could do everything! She could sing, dance and act. She was hilarious in comedies, moving in dramatic roles (she won an Oscar for Kitty Foyle in 1940) and absolutely gorgeous!

Listen, no shade to Fred Astaire at all, but she both kept up with him step for step and then later went on to WIN AN OSCAR FOR ACTING. (which he did not.) truly a double threat!!!

One of the best dancers in Hollywood! Her work with Fred Astaire is just incredible.

ONE LINE: "Everything Fred did, Ginger did backwards and in heels" AND THEYRE RIGHT! Rogers was a total dance badass, and a lot of movie buffs know the story, but the Never Gonna Dance number from Swing Time took almost 50 takes, and allegedly by the end of filming it her white shoes had been stained pink because her feet were bleeding. As a note, she looks crazy gorgeous in this number. Watching these two dance is insane. They match up to each other in a way my mom describes as "divine" and she's right. DANCE NUMBERS!

Let's Call The Whole Thing Off (Shall We Dance, 1937, dancing starts at 3:14, they're in ROLLERSKATES)

(Ginger Rogers is the hottest woman ever to live in this number. seeing this as a teenager altered my brain chemistry)

(also watch her feet and how she moves opposite Astaire in this one. We all know our boy Freddie had that precision demon but jesus christ Miss Rogers, let a girl live!)

Pick Yourself Up, Swing Time 1936 (Everyone's seen this one but by god you are going to see it AGAIN!)

Shall We Dance, 1937 (duet begins at 2:34)

Smoke Gets In Your Eyes, Roberta 1935 (There's just something about Ginger Rogers in a slick black dress man)

The Continental, The Gay Divorcee 1934

God she's MAGIC in this one.

Gay Divorcee's Ending Montage 1934

The infamous table and chairs spin happens at about 0:49. Pay CLOSE attention to her in this bc it looks like witchcraft and I feel lightheaded whenever I watch this movie bc shes THAT awesome.

She is a miracle to watch. Sorry for the sheer amount of clips. My entire family is like madly in love with Ginger Rogers.

[simphornies]

Vox with an overlord s/o hmngg. He’d get such an ego boost from having another overlord submit to him, especially if they’re close in power but also… he’d never admit it but he’d fucking love to get dommed SO hard

A/N: He's giving switch/service top honestly. Maybe a hint of power bottom. (definitely adding this to my lengthy headcanon list). Bonus points if you can guess who the first unnamed character is

Word count: 1.1k (1,152) Warnings: suggestive content, implied sex, dominant reader

Power Hungry - [ Vox x Overlord!Reader ]

“And stay out.” Your voice was stern, laced with anger. You glared at the mafia head that disrespected your meeting. “Your business is no longer needed with us, imp.”

He hissed, “Whatever bitch. Your loss. You’ll soon realize this decision of yours was a mistake.” He got up, dusting himself off as he glared at you. You glared at him back, your demon form on the verge of exploding out.

“Get out of my sight before I take your head. You better hope I never see you again because next time, I’m displaying your skull on my wall. And that’s a promise.” Your voice distorted as you pointed your angelic spear to his throat, cutting him slightly. He backed down, shaking slightly as he ran off. You pulled your spear aside and huffed. “The nerve of that little shit.”

Vox put his hand on your shoulder, the touch immediately calming you down. “I’ll keep eyes on him, make sure he doesn’t try to put a hit on you.” He beamed with pride at your display of power, “Come on, let’s go back in.”

Your spear vanished as well as your demon form, reverting back to your usual self. “I will squish him the next time I see him I swear to god!” You screamed. Vox held your waist, pulling you close as you two walked over to his office.

“If he’s in the area, I’ll make sure to get him up here for you babe.” He grinned at you.

You smiled at him, “You know exactly how to make me happy, Vox.” You gave him a quick peck on his lips.

“That was hot as fuck though.” He winked.

“Oh hush it! You say that every time you see me in my demon form. Remember when I almost killed you?” You laughed, “You faced a second death and what did you say?”

He laughed with you, “I think I said ‘Holy shit you’re hot.’ or something along those lines.”

“Insane. Threw me off guard and saved your life. Glad you said it though.”

The two of you entered his office. He sat on his chair and you sat on top of him with no hesitation. “You really gotta get me my own chair here.”

“Hmm…No. You have a seat right here.” He flirted to which you rolled your eyes.

“I guess that’s true.” You rest your head on his chest as you watch him tap away at his computer. “So what’s the agenda?”

“Nothing. That was the last one for the day and it looks like he already left.” He sent a message out to block any future business with him and you sent a message to Carmilla to make sure he can’t get any weapons from her either, completely blacklisting him from her company. She happily obliged considering you were a close friend of hers and helped her greatly during her rise in power.

“And I just blacklisted him from Carmilla’s company. That little shit isn’t getting any angelic weapons anytime soon.” You laughed.

“That’s my girl.” He smiled at you. You two share a passionate kiss before getting interrupted by Valentino slamming his door open.

“Vox! You won’t fucking believe wh-Oh! Am I interrupting something?” He grinned and leaned up against the doorway. “Can I stay and watch?” He winked.

You glare at him even though he probably couldn’t see your expression. You threw a stapler at him which Valentino dodged last minute. “Fuck off! We’re having a moment! Come back later!” He ran out, slamming the door behind him. “And no you can’t watch! Gross.”

“Oh the headaches you save me from.” He held you close to him, his arms wrapped around your waist.

“Anything for you, baby.” You grabbed his hand to kiss it, “I’ll kill for you, you just say the word.”

His ego was filled to the brim knowing he had you by his side, willing to do anything he asked of you with no hesitation. You and him were on par with each other in power but in terms of fighting, you had the advantage. You had more experience fighting considering you had to work hard and kill anyone in your way to become an overlord, even almost killing Vox when he met you. He came to save Valentino from getting killed because he tried to force you into becoming one of his girls. Your patience already ran thin so when he asked you more than 3 times, you nearly squashed him. Vox came to save him of course and your love blossomed from thereon out.

He loves watching your angry fits, even sitting back with some popcorn as you killed an entire gang of sharks that tried to force themselves on you once. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t intimidated by your power. You weren’t afraid of speaking up for yourself and you most certainly will do anything to have people listen to you. Any demon would be doomed to die if they ever looked down upon you for anything. There were times that he spoke back to you and he found it attractive whenever you’d assert yourself on him. He was as power hungry as you were. But if you were the power? He was starving. He craved you more when you showed power but he never wanted to admit it in the bedroom.

“You know I love it when you’re assertive. It’s so hot.” He whispered into your ear. Shivers went down your spine at his deep voice, triggering something inside of you.

“Yeah?” You turned, straddling him, “I bet you’d love it if I did that to you in private, hm?” You smiled, slightly grinding on the tent in his pants.

“Mmm. I don’t know, baby. Would I?” He smiled up at you, a teasing tone evident in his voice.

You kissed him, tongues intertwining and curling around each other. You were both out of breath by the time the two of you pulled away. He was about to get up to take you to his room but you stopped him. “No.” You said, your hand on his chest, “Stay. And lock the door while you’re at it.” You smirked at him. He nodded and with a flick of his finger, his door was locked. Before you two could get it on in his office, you both heard something behind the door.

“Fuck! You guys didn’t have to fucking lock it!” Valentino yelled, his voice muffled behind the door. The two of you laughed in response before averting your attention back to each other.

“Now. I think I have some…anger to let out.” You grabbed him by his collar and dragged him over to the couch, pushing him down on it. “And record this for yourself, baby.” You winked.

“Yes ma’am.”

He’d be lying if he wasn’t going to beg for you to dominate him more after that night.

[fanbynature]

A post from Dani Howe, who recently left smosh after working in the marketing team

"From Pet to Threat" - This just happened to me AGAIN and after 10+ years in this biz, I’m sick of having to get over it in silence for fear of being blacklisted, or labeled as “difficult to work with” because I chose to be open about my working experience. I won’t go into details, as this isn’t meant to be that kind of post, but I want to share this research because the “Pet to Threat" phenomena keeps happening to me and so many of my peers, particularly over the last few years here in LA. It’s truly an abusive cycle that repeats for far too many people in the workplace, but especially and aggressively for Black women in the entertainment/media industry. So many of us work extremely hard from a place of love, peace and genuine passion for our crafts. We choose to put our prowess out there, hoping that it’ll be reciprocated with that same authenticity by our leadership/mentors/peers, only to be undermined and vehemently devalued in favor of this insistence for power and control at every turn. I’ll never understand the need to prioritize pettiness & ego over doing the right thing for another team member or putting the best, most collaborative work out there for your company. What’s the point of hiring an expert or someone with big potential, just to diminish them? I'm tired of entering spaces I was promised were full of golden potential and stability, only to have to abruptly leave that space a short while later, lest endure unsafe + toxic working dynamics if I choose to brave it. The feelings of shame, guilt and confusion that come after are all too familiar, and yet they never get any easier to deal with. Constantly being in an anxious place of trying to figure out what went wrong and changing my approach, while the world you left couldn’t even be bothered to think twice about you, feels like a losing game. Why even play anymore? I'm only left jobless with no prospects, broke, and burdened with heavy feelings of sadness that I feel really dumb for having. Because it’s just a job, right? And the house always wins.

Some of you might question why even share all of this. Well, I fully believe transparency is one of the best ways to educate and inspire those around you. By sharing this article and a bit about my experience, I hope others feel encouraged to choose themselves and stop letting lazy business practices suppress their potential. I have no idea what’s next for me - this post has probably tanked any chance of me continuing a career in entertainment marketing. But what I do know is that I’m not accepting being overlooked anymore. Not having my true potential nurtured or recognized because the mentors I believed in would rather act out of insecurity than help me thrive is total BS. I deserve better than that, and so do you. I hope today is the day you know your worth."

Im interested in who are they going to blame now. It was once Defy - but now that it's in the hands of the original creators and owners - the same mistakes seem to be popping up. Hmmm

Also if fans start villanizing her the way they did with Boze and Saige - 👊👊👊 i will find you and i will punch u in the fucking face

[formulapookie]

8 + rosquez

8. who did this to you

it’s been a while they’ve finally stopped senseless hookups labeled as with no feelings and actually talked it out.

It has been difficult at first yes, but everything is with them.

Especially now with Marc being Pecco’s teammate and him still being scarred after what Vale did.

“I am not leaving this time, unless it’s you asking me to leave I am not going to do it”

It had reassured Marc, and it was beautiful.

Being able to trust again, trust someone you loved so much and still hurt you.

On Vale’s part too, knowing Marc trusts him and doesn’t want him to leave.

Waking up together, feeling the love in their every action, going to sleep in the same bed and getting used to having the other in the same bed in the morning too.

No one knew about them, not even the academy or Alex, they were good at hiding it.

On track for marc it was still uneasy, booing still the same, the tension in the air always thick.

But never like this year had he ever felt so much resentment. Misano felt bad from the start, sending the Ducati into the gravel, a red flash on the side of the track.

But he got up and started again, like always.

Feeling hawk-like eyes on him ready to analyze his every mistake.

By the time the GP ended and he won it was a mixture of emotions.

Happiness for gaining the lead in the championship, proudness towards his team, and that same feeling of unease he had since the start of the weekend.

Italy wasn’t his territory, he knew that, but he thought being with Ducati could’ve made this better.

Turns out it didn’t.

Vale knows Marc went partying with the crew and a few friends, rightfully so, and knew that once he came home the two would’ve shared one of those nights neither could forget.

But when he hears their knock at his door and opens it already thinking about Marc he is in shock.

A bruise on the man’s zygome is pretty the only thing he can focus on right now, some blood still on his cheek, dry.

“What the fuck”

Marc pushed in, trying to hide the bruise Vale has obviously already seen.

“Marc come here”

“Let me go to sleep Vale I just- I just need to sleep”

But Vale is not one to let the person he so dearly loves go to fucking sleep when he’s good blood on him.

He makes a run towards the feet of the stair leading to their room, planting himself in the middle of it.

“No. You are not going to sleep like that. Come here, I need to look at that and do something”

It feels unreal. That’s a punch mark he’s got on his face, how could no one in the Ducati crew fucking see it?

Marc wants to protest, but can’t, just follows Vale to the kitchen, sitting on one of the table chairs and waiting.

The man comes back from the bathroom with a safety kit he keeps there, and starts cleaning the wound and applying creams to make it go away.

Marc can feel the anger radiating from Vale’s body and his stupid brain thinks it’s directed towards him.

“Are you angry with me?”

“Angry with- now why would I be angry with you? You’ve got a fucking bleeding cheek and you think I’m angry at you?”

Marc has tears he’s holding back, he doesn’t want to let them out.

“I am worried for you Marc, not angry, never angry”

It is true, a marc knows the tone in Vale’s voice when he’s being honest, that is it.

“Now. Tell me” Vale sits down, practically bloodshot eyes and fingers tapping against the wooden table.

“Who did this to you?”

and Marc wants to sink in the chair and stay silent.

He doesn’t want to look weak.

“Marc.

What asshole did this to you?”

and this time Marc answers, telling him about a guy with a 46 cal who’s been in the VR46 box, garage, the whole time, and which Vale has heard comment about Marc in a not so pleasant way.

“Ok” there’s a pause in which they’re both so silent Marc can only feel

his heartbeat and Valle’s rushed and rapid one.

“I’ll have him blacklisted from every paddock on earth and go talk to him very quickly”

“No Vale I - no”

“Marc he punched you. He punched you because you are you and because I said those horrible things about you. And he believed me.

I am not letting this go unnoticed”

“I love you want to avenge me or whatever you’re thinking but right now I just need you to stay here. With me. Please I need you to stay with me”

and Vale crumbles. Marc is hurt, not just physically, hearing those words again must have gotten a hit on him.

“I’ll stay here then. Make sure you don’t hurt and make you fall asleep. But i’ll have him kicked out anyway. He’s dangerous”

Marc nods, while Vale walks him to the couch,pulling him into a hug so tight it could be suffocating.

And Marc just curls up in his embrace, head against Vale’s chest, feeling the man’s heartbeat slow down as he strokes his hair.

[66sharkteeth]

I am SO sorry about that other anon good lord, who do they think they are??? You're a human being with feelings and emotions and hardships!! Or a shark I guess in your case, but my point still stands.

I, too, have been a long-time fan of your comic. CoB is my favorite webcomic and I've been loyally following and reading the updates since... end of s1?? It's been a while. BUT despite that, I know that you're still a person at the end of the day, and that sometimes you just need to get shit off your chest. It's far healthier to vent and get things off your chest than it is to bottle it up.

I haven't paid attention because I'm following like 500 different tumblrs, but may I suggest tagging your rants? That way, if people don't want to see it, they can just blacklist the tag, and you can keep getting things off your chest.

>>> Also just a reminder to everyone that YOU CURATE YOUR OWN ONLINE EXPERIENCES. The tag blocker and unfollow button is there for a reason. If you don't like what someone posts, either block the tag or just unfollow them. It's not that hard.

Sorry to that anon in that I didn’t mean to send any hate their way. I appreciate what you’re saying but I understand their point. I made this as a space for fans and I shouldn’t be using it for personal baggage. I’m just going to try to avoid using it like that from now on, so hopefully a tag won’t be necessary but I’ll make sure to do so if I do fall in that hole again. I hopefully just find a better outlet, but I just always appreciate being heard here, even if only by a few people. Even just a like on one of my posts tells me someone heard me and sometimes that’s just all I need. This was just kinda the only place I can get that since Twitter and IG would attract too much attention, and well, my private accounts… just feel like screaming into a void that just echos everything back and confirms everything I’m venting about. I’m gonna try to avoid venting here from now on and do my best to just keep it a positive fan space, but I appreciate all the support up til now whenever I’ve been having a bad night

[writeforfandoms]

Waking Lions 3

Find the series masterlist

We see more of Ace doing her job (and she is very much morally gray), see Captain again, and start down the slow path of curiosity towards yearning. I did mention this is a slow burn, didn't I?

Warning: Swearing, mentioned violence, events of MW2019, tension. Morally gray characters.

Word count: 1.9k

You were in Greenland when you got the call. 

“What intel do you have on Al-Qatala?” Laswell sounded cool, in control. As always. 

“None,” was your immediate response. “I may have contacts in low places, but I’m not suicidal.” 

“You always know something,” Laswell said, faintly impatient. “What about their connection to the Russians?” 

“Bad news,” you grumbled. “That’s my intel. They’re all bad news and they don’t care if they blow up the world. Pretty sure some of them live in hope of that day.” 

“I need anything you’ve got.”

“This is not my department.” You glanced around, ensuring your privacy. “This is, in fact, so far outside my department that it should be your people’s job. I don’t get in bed with that kind of asshole, Kate.” 

“I need whatever you can find on them,” she said, temper audibly fraying. “Anything and everything. As soon as you can get it to me.” 

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I won’t get the kind of intel you want,” you growled. “I don’t have those kinds of contacts.”

“Then get me whatever intel you can,” she snapped back. 

“Kate,” you finally snapped, curling your fingers into a fist. “Why the fuck are you asking this of me?” 

She was silent. Five seconds passed. Ten. You almost thought she wasn’t going to answer, but– “I can’t tell you everything, but… Keep an eye on the news. When it happens, you’ll know.” She hung up. 

You thought, briefly, about calling her back just to yell at her. Or remind her that you were an independent intelligence agent, not one of her lackeys. 

But you shoved the urge back down and breathed deep. A few times. 

Then you started working, using your phone to type out a few emails. This was going to burn more than one bridge, you could already tell.

Laswell was going to owe you for this one. 

There were a lot of things you could get information on with varying degrees of ease. It was all about knowing who to ask. And you had built up quite the network of connections over the years, all over the world. It was how you kept in business, how you were able to swan around the world as you pleased. 

Most of these contacts were straightforward. Money for intel. You’d weeded out the ones who were unreliable or lied to you. This was also the one time you bent your own rules about names. Because you took care of your trusted contacts, in your own way. Unreliable people got blacklisted. 

And if sometimes that ended in bloodshed, well, that wasn’t your problem. 

But even with your resources and your contacts, asking questions about Al-Qatala was dangerous. It took time. You had to be very careful who you asked and how you asked. You absolutely did not want your name floating around, or any of your aliases, not for this.

When you finally had a chance to sit down and turn on the news, you understood why Laswell had called you.

They’d bombed civilians. In London. 

You breathed deeply for a few minutes, watching the shaky news footage and the interviews. Then you changed channels to another news station, watching their footage. 

You’d seen a lot of shit in the world. Much of it you were hardened to, jaded after all this time. 

But this… Well. This hurt. This wove into your chest, tracing the singular path to the soft of your heart. 

I’ll have everything I can manage for you in 36 hours. Send me a drop off location. The text was perhaps brusque but Laswell wouldn’t mind. She might not be happy about the timeframe, since these things tended to be pretty time sensitive, but if she was asking you for information… She knew what she was getting into. 

And then you flipped through your little black book, just in case there was anyone you hadn’t thought of to reach out to. If nothing else, it kept you busy for a little while. 

You didn’t leave your hotel room at all for the next 24 hours, busy compiling all the information you were getting back. You stopped long enough to book a flight to London, using a smaller company. 

With two hours to go until the drop point, you pulled out your laptop again and finished compiling all the information, including the last bits that had come in while you were on the flight. 

Thirty minutes to go, cutting it close. You were ready to move, waiting on a final location, USB tucked safely in your pocket and your hands stuffed in your pockets as well to hide your fidgeting. This had left you keyed up, extra paranoid. 

Finally, though, Laswell texted you. Pub called Lion’s Head. You’ll recognize him.

It took moments to find out where the Lion’s Head was, and you strode off with purpose. 

The pub was not busy this time of day (and you had to glance at your phone to see what time it actually was), so it was not hard to spot him sitting at a shadowed table. He looked just the same as last time. 

His gaze met yours across the room, holding you in place for two beats, not even breathing. His eyes couldn’t hide the rage, although you doubted it was aimed at you. Given the info you’d been accumulating, you were fairly certain you knew exactly who it was aimed at.

You squeezed your hands into fists and strode over the table, shoulders set. No teasing this time. Not with this.

“Captain.” You dipped your head in a small nod of respect to him, holding out the USB. He took it, much larger fingers brushing against yours, a tiny spot of warmth in the shadowy room. 

“No weather comments this time?” But his voice was muted, fingers quick to tuck the USB away.

Your jaw clenched. “Not this time. Won’t even quote movies at you.” You shrugged, leaning back. “Password is imperial, all lower case.” 

He nodded acknowledgement and stood. It was his turn to leave a cash tip on the table. But you didn’t move out of his way just yet, holding his gaze. 

“I hope that helps you.” You kept your voice quiet, more sincere than you usually allowed yourself. 

He blinked, surprised, before he nodded more slowly. “You planning to stay in town?” he asked, holding your gaze.

You shrugged. “Hadn’t decided yet,” you admitted. And that was enough honesty. You mustered a bit of your usual flirtation, smiling. “Why, want to see me again so soon?”

He snorted softly. “Might want to be elsewhere for the next few days,” was all he said, low and dry, before he stepped around you. He left you standing there, walking out of the pub and vanishing.

With a wry smile at the swapped roles, you left after him. Normally you were the one leaving people behind. It was an interesting feeling to be the one being left. 

In all honesty, you were curious about Captain. More than you should be. He couldn’t be intimidated or flirted with, refused to be cowed, and had openly challenged you. He also had no designs on you, acting solely as a go-between.

And that was rare. Very rare. 

But you had your rules to consider, too. No names, for starters. He only knew the codename Laswell had given you, and you didn’t know his name. It was, honestly, safer that way. 

But still. 

Shaking yourself, you pulled out your phone with a little huff. He’d recommended getting out of London, so you would. You didn’t feel like disregarding that kind of advice. 

Maybe it was time to go back to the US for a while. You generally avoided it, but you knew of several delightful hotels on the California coast.

It didn’t take long to get the flight booked, and then you had to go back to the airport. You didn’t have much with you this time, since you’d left Greenland in a hurry, but that was fine. You had a stash in California that you could raid. 

And, really, you could do some work in the US. Visit some old contacts. Maybe see about finding a few new ones. 

Maybe drop in on Laswell and have a very polite conversation. 

You had just boarded the plane when your phone vibrated with a text. You settled in your seat and then pulled it out, humming under your breath. 

Thank you for your help. Standard payment?

You hummed, leaning back in your seat. You could accept payment for this as usual… Or you could keep this in your pocket. 

Keep it. You’ll owe me one. Your lips curled in a satisfied smile as you turned your phone off in preparation for the flight. 

California this time of year was sunny. (Well, many parts of California were sunny all year long, actually.) You booked a hotel on the coast and spent three days lounging on the beach and keeping a very close eye on the news. Some of it didn’t surprise you. Some of it did. 

Some things you learned from your contacts, because the news outlets didn’t go near some of those messes. You heard through the grapevine about the usurping in Urzikstan, a near-massacre of the Russian forces there. 

Honestly, you kind of expected a call from Sergio about that one. 

Not that he was military, but he had fingers in a few pies. 

But you never heard from him.

The attack on the embassy ended up on every news channel, not that you were much surprised. It was pretty much a clusterfuck, and one you were happy to stay out of. 

Big events like this tended to draw a lot of attention, and you figured there were two ways this could shake out: either you’d get a lot of requests trying to take advantage of the chaos, or you’d have radio silence. Either way was alright with you, honestly, just so long as nobody wanted anything to do with Al-Qatala or the Russians. 

This one turned out to be quiet, wary of the chaos and the threat of chemical weapons. Not that you could blame them. 

You’d seen what gas attacks could do. 

One more week on the quiet coast left you feeling refreshed and ready to go again. You checked in with all of your people - two had fallen off. You weren’t sure if that meant they were dead or hiding. Either way, you’d go poking later. 

You had other things to do, for now. 

Downtime like this was good for checking finances, so you did. Downtime like this was also good at bringing up things you’d rather not think about, so you threw yourself in the ocean, and promptly regretted all your choices. (The Pacific ocean was too fucking cold for swimming, anyone who willingly ventured in there was a masochist as far as you were concerned.) 

And then it was back to work, this time with new intel coming in from an arms dealer you knew. So you booked a flight. 

Almost idly, you wondered how much Captain had been involved in all that trouble. If you did enough digging, you could probably find out. Find a name. A picture. 

But you wouldn’t. Because that was against your rules.

[theshitpostcalligrapher]

Clearin out a chunk of the askbox again

hey yall clearing a bunch of old asks from ye olde askbox, i’ve closed submissions temporarily to avoid the confusion

most of yall know the drill, but what I do is answer all the asks in order to

a) record them to my notebook document so I can keep track of who’s requesting what and

b) run them by most of you folks so assholes don’t succeed in slipping an obscure slur or terfy assholery or whatever else have you past my tired, tired brain.

if you’d like to block the torrent of posts what are just me goin “okay sure thing” for the next hour and a half, the tag is “added to notepad” and I’ll reopen the submission box for follower art tomorrow

since doing the blacklist thing likely results in a WHOLE dash of "this post has been hidden from view!" please feel free to unfollow me til tomorrow unless you like the ritual of this monthly happening, because it's VERY dashspammy

and don't forget, when your card comes up in the schedule and gets written, you can buy it for a handful of dollars right here! you can even get a wax seal n everything!

[waterfire1848]

omgomgomg i wanna ask one ship prompt!! okay okay

20. azula (college student) / katara (oceanograpy professor)

heated debate and maybe angry doing-the-nasty?????? 👀

Hello, @ragzonacamrencruise !! Here you go!

Modern AU setting and note that the sex scene isn’t explicit by any means but it is there so…don’t want to see don’t read

Katara set her belongings down on her desk, pushing her hair back which had fallen in her face when she leaned down. Her heart was pounding in her chest while she stood in front of the long table. Before her were four wide rows of seats, all of which had one long desk, in the shape of a half circle, from one end of the room to the other. The only space left on the sides of the room were for the stairs so students could walk up to the front of the classroom or the back.

Katara took a final look down at her phone. 10:20 am. Her class would be starting in about ten minutes. Her very first class on oceanography. Katara brushed her hand through her hair one final time. She really, really had to make a good impression on her students. The school had been nervous to hire someone so young, Katara was 24 having just finished grad school, but agreed while promising to keep an eye on her. There was no misunderstanding their tone: You screw this up and we fire you and blacklist you from teaching at every university.

That's why she was so nervous when the first student walked in and took her seat, choosing to sit in the front row. The woman had long black hair with golden eyes and wore a red jacket, black shirt and jeans. She took her seat then proceeded to pull out everything she needed.

"Excuse me. Should you be back there?" She asked, "The professor will get mad if she finds out you were messing with her things."

"I am the professor." Katara said, "My name is Katara South. You can call me Professor South." She smiled, but the student still looked confused.

"You're teaching this class? Are you like a teaching aid or something?"

"No. I'm 24. I got my degree and decided I wanted to teach what I learned at college so here I am." Katara said, "What's your name?"

"Azula Agni." The student said, "I'm a senior."

"Ah and why are you interesting in oceanography?" Katara asked.

"I'm not." Wow. She didn't need to say it so bluntly, "I'm just taking this class because I need an easy one." Azula explained.

"Easy? This is advanced oceanography." Katara told her, "It'll get pretty challenging." Azula scoffed, rolling her eyes.

"I'm not afraid of a few tests or pop quizzes." Azula grinned, "I'll probably end this class with a perfect A+."

"We'll see." Katara said, a smile growing on her face.

Was it childish to be feuding with a student? Yes. Did Katara care? No. Well, she kind of did because Azula could easily report her and get her fired but there was no way she was letting Azula know that.

Slowly, the other students began to fill the room and take their seats. Katara spent the first day telling the students a little about herself, the tests, paper and final they would be doing.

“I hope you all have a great semester in my class! If you ever have any questions or concerns or problems you can come talk to me at any point in time. I encourage you to come talk to me instead of suffering on your own.” Katara chuckled, “As someone who just graduated grad school I know how importance it is to get those moments to rest. I hope I’ll get to see all of you tomorrow for our next class!” The students all stood up and began to walk out.

Katara heard the students begin to whisper and talk as they walked out of the room. However, Katara couldn’t pull her eyes away from Azula. In all fairness, Azula was looking at Katara as well. Her golden eyes never left Katara’s blue ones the entire time she packed up.

“See you tomorrow, Professor.” Azula said, standing up and leaving the room

———————————

Azula wasn’t kidding when she said that she wouldn’t have a problem with the class. She was easily one of, if not, the best student in the class. Constantly turning everything in a day in advance, including paragraphs of explanations and arriving to class every day.

Then, one day, she didn’t show up. Katara definitely noticed her absence but it was to be expected. Students wouldn’t show up all the time. But when Azula missed every class, Katara grew nervous. She send over an email to her twice and received nothing.

Finally, Azula returned but she was different. She was quiet and missing her classic snark. When Katara put everyone in groups, Azula’s group came to her at the end of the class and told her Azula didn’t do any work.

“Azula. Can you stay here for a few minutes?” Katara called.

“Sure.” Katara waited for everyone to leave before she sat down next to Azula.

“Azula? What’s wrong? You missed class, you aren’t talking and you didn’t do any work in today’s group work.” She said.

“My apologies.” Azula said. Her breathing was weird, as if she was keeping herself from crying, “It’s been a…difficult time. I’ll be better next class.”

“Azula, I just want to know what’s going on. You’re the best student here. I want to know as much as I can so I can-“

“You won’t care. It’s just petty college stuff.” Azula scoffed.

“Do you think it’s been like a decade since I was in college? I was in my senior year three years ago.” Katara tried to add a little laugh to her voice but Azula remained quiet, “Please.”

“My friends blocked me on everything and they said they don’t want to talk to me. I…I don’t have any friends now.” Her voice was quiet but Katara could still hear the sadness in her voice.

“I’m so sorry, Azula. Is there anything I can do?” Probably not much she could do, even if she was a professor, but it seemed like the right thing to say here.

“Could I eat lunch in here?” Azula asked.

Katara blinked her eyes in shocked, “Umm sure. Of course you can.” Much to Katara’s surprise, Azula launched forward and hugged her. Katara found herself wrapping her own arms around the woman.

“Oh. I umm…I should get going.” Azula pushed herself away from Katara, got up and ran out of the room, leaving Katara a little shocked but mostly happy. She didn’t know why but it filled her with warmth to know she could spend more time with Azula.

——————————---

The longer the months went on, the more Katara found herself staying after class with Azula for longer periods of time. Their conversations started with topics from class then fell into conversations about their own lives and experiences.

“No way! Is your brother Zuko Agni?” Katara asked. The two were sitting across from one another at a table in the classroom. They had started off talking about their own education, respectively, and the subject turned somehow to their brothers.

“Yes. My deepest apologies to you if you know him.”

“He dated my brother for a few months. They broke up when Sokka left after grad school.” Katara told her.

“Oh, I remember. He refused to listen to anything that wasn’t some sad and depressing breakup song. I thought I was going to lose my mind.” Azula groaned.

“If it’s any consolation I had to endure Sokka texting me 50 times a day asking if he made the right decision. One of the smartest people I know and one of the most indecisive.” Katara chuckled, "So, how are finals going?"

"Decent. Your final is looking to be my easiest." Azula said.

"Oh, really?"

"Yup. It'll be fun to easily ace this." Katara only rolled her eyes.

"Don't get cocky. The final might be harder than you think." Katara warned.

"You're a professor. Aren't you supposed to say that I'm such a good student and I'll have no trouble as long as I study?" Azula asked.

"All those things are true." Katara admitted, "But if you get overconfident then won't do as well on the final. I might have some tricks up my sleeve that you don't know about."

That was the moment both of them realized how close their were to each other. Azula moved her face forward while Katara moved back, making them both blush.

"I should get back to my room. You have my email if you have any questions about the final." Katara quickly said, grabbing her things and racing out of the room. Did Azula just try to kiss her? No. No, she had to have been imagining things. There's no way Azula did that, "She is pretty beautiful." Katara whispered.

"No." She shook her head as though that would get the thought out of her head, "No, Azula doesn't like you. Stop fooling yourself. You're acting like an idiot!" She snapped. Katara forced herself to continue doing her work and stop thinking about Azula. She only had a week left with the woman anyway before the last day of college and only three weeks until Azula graduated.

------------------------

Katara would never admit it but she was sad when she posted those final exam scores. Not because the scores were bad, though there was one student who made her want to cry and scream when she read through their final, but because she would miss her class. Other professor's told her that it stopped being all that meaningful when she had been there for a few years, but, still, Katara couldn't help but find herself saddened when she send out everyone's final scores.

'Maybe there's another person you're sad you'll never see again.' Her brain supplied.

"Shut up." Katara mumbled. Though it was true, she was saddened that she'd never see Azula again, "That's just how things go sometimes. I need to accept that." She tried to speak in her most commanding voice, forcing herself to accept the fact that Azula had probably long forgotten about her as well.

Meanwhile, across town, Katara couldn't have been further from the truth when Azula opened her email to read her final exam score.

"WHAT!?!"

--------------------------

It was a calm day, a peaceful and quiet day. Katara was sitting on her couch, reading through a book when someone began pounding on her door. Confused, and a bit scared if she was honest, Katara slowly approached the door only to see Azula through the peep hole.

“Azula?” Katara asked, “What are you doing here? Is everything okay?”

“No! Because you took points off on the exam when I got the question right!” Azula walked into Katara’s apartment, allowing Katara to shut the door behind her.

“Excuse me?” Katara asked.

“Right here.” Katara looked at where Azula was pointing to see that she had the final exam up on her phone and was pointing to a specific equation, “I got the question right but you marked it as incorrect!”

"You are wrong!" Katara yelled.

"How do you study this stuff and not know that I'm right!?!" Azula yelled back, "Right here. You asked 'when did the first photosynthetic organism come into being?' and I said 'when the Earth's atmosphere and the shallow ocean first experienced a rise in the concentration of oxygen.'"

"And that's wrong!" Katara told her, "You needed to give me the exact name of what it's called. There are a lot of things you could have called it The Great Oxidation Event or Great Oxygenation Event or Oxygen Catastrophe, but you wrote none of that!"

“It’s the same thing!”

“Do you not understand how college works?! You had to write what the term was called! You didn’t and you lost points!”

“That’s ridiculous!”

“Deal with it! Accept your lost points and the fact that you rushed through the exam and didn’t read every instruction!”

“You’re the one who put instructions there meant to trip people up!”

“Or did you just not read because you thought my exam would be so easy?!”

By now both Katara and Azula’s faces were inches apart. Katara’s eyes momentarily fell down to Azula’s lips. Azula did the same then forced her eyes back to Katara. Only a second of silence existed between the two before they began kissing.

“I thought you didn’t want this?” Azula asked.

“And I thought you knew to read through instructions.” Katara grinned.

Katara brought Azula to the couch, causing her to fall back on the it. The two locked themselves into a makeout session that showed no sign of stopping. If anything it was getting stronger especially when the two began removing their clothing. Katara removing her shirt gave the okay for Azula to do the same.

“Can I?” Katara moved her hands to the back of Azula’s bra.

“Go ahead.” Thanks to years of experience, Katara undid the clasp with ease and tossed Azula’s bra to the side. One of her hands went behind Azula’s head for support and the other went to Azula’s chest.

“W-Wait.” Azula bit her lip to keep from groaning.

“What?” Katara sat back up, allowing Azula to use her free hands and remove her pants.

“Woah.” Katara whispered. She was beautiful.

A blush covered Azula’s face when she realized Katara wasn’t removing any other items of clothing, “Are-Are you okay with…us going there?” Azula asked, now suddenly feeling very self conscious and grabbing her shirt to put in front of her body.

Gently, Katara pushed her shirt away and kissed Azula, “Yes.”

Once again, the two girls were locked into kissing one another. Azula, having found Katara’s bra strap, also removed that and flung her bra to the floor. Katara’s pants weren’t far behind, leaving both woman completely naked.

“Ugh!” Katara moaned slightly when Azula pushed her body down so that she was under Katara’s chest, “God!” She bit her lip to keep from groaning too much, “Hey.” Azula pushed herself back up to be eye to eye with Katara.

“What?”

“I can’t let you do all the work.” The woman grinned, kissing Azula once more.

“Tell me if I should stop.” Katara whispered, moving her hands below Azula’s waist.

To anyone outside the apartment, it was probably very easy to guess what they were doing based on the sounds from inside, especially Azula’s groans, but neither woman could bring themselves to care or even think about the neighbor’s opinions.

“I’m guessing this is good.” Katara smirked, using her free hand to push herself up a bit and away from Azula’s lips.

Azula didn’t even respond, just pulled Katara back down to her as if the woman sitting up meant she was about to leave forever. Katara was sure though that she heard Azula moan ‘don’t stop’. After a minute, Azula forced herself to stop kissing Katara, only clinging to her as the woman kissed her neck.

"Can we...god...move this to the bedroom?" She asked, trying as hard as she could to force down her groans.

"Of course." Katara smiled.

Sometime later, both woman found themselves naked and breathing heavily in Katara's bed.

"If I had known this would happen, I would have come over months ago." Katara turned on her side to face Azula.

“You liked me that long ago?” She asked.

“Of course. I found you incredibly beautiful when I first came to your class but I suspected we could do anything because of university policy.” Azula said.

“You suspected correct.” Katara confirmed, “I could have been fired for dating a student.”

Azula winced, “Wow. Really great we didn’t get together then.” She said, “But I am really happy this happened. Are you okay…I mean was this good…I-I mean-“

Katara cut Azula off by kissing her, “I think you’re smart enough to figure out if I want to date you.” She grinned.

Azula smiled right back at Katara, “I’m sure I’ll get this question right.”

[deadboystims]

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🌱 ꒱ ) he / him ┊ billy , 17 ┊ autihd , gay , bpd ⚣

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🦀 ꒱ ) inbox : 3/5 - requests : CLOSED - divider

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🐛 ꒱ ) read rules & blacklist before requesting

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍁 ꒱ ) feel free to claim an anon sign off!

*rules & blacklist under cut ( keep reading ) divider : @kiyaedits

# @deadboybilly @deadboyrbs @ccozies

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[whiskawaybelf]

A timebomb, time loop AU (inspired by Orpheus and Eurydice)

which basically amounts to friends to lovers and then angst. Which is what most of my fics amount to. but like. fun?

Little excerpt after the cut for those keen on those things. I tag my fics so you can blacklist if this clutters your tags: onemoretime

Ekko was the one she sat on when he annoyed her. The one she wrestled with and argued with. It was nice not to feel like the youngest, just stuck tagging along. The playing field was even when they battled.

And someone was hurting him. 

Powder found an older boy and his friend, the friend had large droopy ears and a sad droopy nose. The guy holding Ekko’s arm behind his back was not very tall but he was dense and moved slowly. Powder watched Droopy look through Ekko’s bag.

“There’s nothing good here, Dekker, let him go.”

“No. Keep looking, he has something, I know he does.”

“No,” Powder said, coming out from her vantage point, hearing Vi scream in her ear no. no. don’t do that. just stay hidden. i’ll take care of it. “He doesn’t have anything, Benzo doesn’t give him anything good to carry, he’s really stupid.”

“Shut up, Powder,” Ekko said, “What are you doing? Go away.”

But his arm was being twisted at such a weird angle. And Vi also told her, we don’t leave people behind, powder, okay? you never leave someone behind.

Powder’s heart began to pound when Dekker told Droopy to get her. Just to put her somewhere where she wouldn’t be a problem. Check her bag too. But Droopy was less enthusiastic about intimidating children. Power wasn’t a child anymore, though. She was twelve. And twelve meant she was old enough. For what? Hard to tell, it was just… old enough. The two boys weren’t much older, fourteen… maybe fifteen? 

“Look, we won’t hurt your friend-”

“You’re already hurting my friend,” Powder snapped, “And Vander is going to kill you. If my sister doesn’t… and she will.”

Power did begin to panic here, just a little bit. Because Vander wasn’t coming, Vi wasn’t coming, and she could only bluff for so long. The boys both stiffened at Vander’s name but that wasn’t the same thing as stopping. Now Dekker was holding Ekko down but he was also looking at her. So she caught Ekko’s disapproving eyes. Tried to think. 

“I could scream,” Powder said, “That will bring them both here really fast. Do you want me to do that? You could lose a couple teeth for the low, low price of some copper wire and broken Piltover garbage?”

“Don’t scream,” Ekko managed to say and Powder shot him a look but he sounded weird, “He’s going to kill them. They don’t understand. You know how Vander is.”

Powder skirted the wall, trying to come a little closer to Ekko without startling the two boys, now watching her uncertainly, “He has these metal gauntlets, and he just sort of… picks them up,” she bent her knees and did a tiny movement that somehow conveyed slipping her hands into something and it being very heavy when she lifted them, “like they weight nothing. And they don’t. For him. But teeth-” she tapped her front tooth, “Cheekbones… jaws… they tend to be a little more delicate. Mandibles, in particular… ” it was a new word and she said it like she liked it, her next two steps to Ekko almost had a swagger, “I don’t think copper is meant for wiring jaws shut, but if that’s all you got, then that’s all you got, you know?”

“Shut her up,” said Dekker, his fear making him angry.

“Run,” Ekko said, his fear making him brave.

“Don’t fight and we won’t hurt you-” Droopy said, his fear making him hesitate. 

“Watch your jaw,” Powder said, her fear making her incredibly, incredibly stupid. She swung her backpack, filled as it was monkeys and mice and chomping things, wrenches and bolts and yes, wires. She swung it with all the force of a twelve year old girl who was incredibly frightened. And then she grabbed her pliers from her pocket, the ones with Ekko’s name circled even though they should have her own name, and she dove for Ekko. 

Powder had done two things that Vi wouldn’t like. One, she joined a fight she couldn’t finish and two, she blocked her own exit. You could do one and be okay, you couldn’t do both. But Ekko was there and Dekker was watching her, his hands were lighter on him , and Ekko could be slippery. She could be quick. As soon as Ekko could run, they would run. 

But one backpack wielded by scrawny arms was never going to be enough, it knocked Droopy flat, he got up quickly. And he did not appreciate being hit in the face with a bunch of shit. 

[fixaidea]

What is this? Silly standalone? Pilot episode to a much longer (and potentially much darker) longfic I may never get around to writing? Who knows. Anyway, ex-agents Reid and Morgan go on a nice overseas vacation. All they want to do is relax but Crime is running rampant at the resort.

‘We should say something.’

Even without looking Morgan could tell Reid was fidgeting. They were both leaning against the balustrade of the resort’s terrace, trying their best to keep an eye on a young lady who was sunning herself by the pool without looking like they were ogling her.

‘We’ve been over this. None of our business, kid.’

‘But if she keeps doing it…’

‘It’s two forks.’

‘Three forks, two spoons, four butter knives and a salt shaker.’

Morgan shot his friend and ex-colleague a sideways glance.

‘Cheers. I didn’t see anything.’

‘Sure, YOU didn’t see anything and I didn’t see anything but the waiters will, eventually, and then she’ll get in trouble.’

Morgan quietly debated the merits of stressing his argument about how none of this was any of their business when a new voice spoke up right by his left side, nearly making him jump out of his skin.

‘I was thinking of slipping her a note.’

The speaker was a short, middle-aged man. He was also leaning on the railing, eyeing the lady with a mix of exasperation and concern. He shook his head with a soft ‘tsk’ and went on.

‘Almost went through with it, but it would just creep her out, wouldn’t it? She’d think someone’s gonna blackmail her over lifting some cutlery. Aigoo but she’s so bad at it!’

‘Is this about the kleptomaniac?’

This was yet another man who just stepped out onto the terrace to join them, taller and much younger than the first stranger. Reid pulled himself up to his full height and gestured triumphantly at him.

‘See? HE also thinks it’s kleptomania!’

The newcomer raised one elegant eyebrow at Morgan.

‘Why else would she do it?’

Morgan shrugged.

‘She seems to be some sort of an influencer. Could be doing it on some weird new trend or it could be that she’s nowhere near as well-off as she portrays herself as.’

The young man shrugged.

‘They rarely are. But if it’s not kleptomania, then a stupid Tiktok trend might just be it. These influencer types will supplement their income in any which way from running scams to indiscriminately shilling any and all product to offering companionship, but lifting cutlery? That seems counter-productive. If your income depends on portraying a lavish lifestyle, why would you risk being blacklisted over something so petty?’

‘Right, that’s it’ the older man said, pushing himself off the balustrade ‘I’ll go talk to her!’

…What his young friend said next Morgan couldn’t understand, but based on the delivery and the way he dove to grab the other’s collar it must have been some version of ‘LIKE HELL YOU WILL!’

Morgan nodded to himself and nudged Reid.

‘Alright, prettyboy, get on with it!’

‘…What?’

‘Go on and talk to her.’

Reid, who obviously didn’t think far enough in his calls for an intervention to come up with an actual action plan remined frozen to the spot, spluttering. To Morgan’s left, the older stranger made a subtle attempt to wriggle out of his companion’s grasp.

‘Aish, don’t make the poor boy do it if he doesn’t want to, I can just go and…’

‘Dongsik-ssi!’

Morgan held up a hand.

‘Nah, it was he who insisted we go say something, so he should do it. Besides, he’s the prettiest and least likely to get slapped.’

The older stranger (Dongsik? Was that his name or just another phrase for ‘You stop that right now’?) gave Reid a through, critical one-over, pointedly turned to look at his young friend and then back to Reid.

‘Debatable but I see your point.’ He said with a grin.

Eventually Reid made up his mind and left. Morgan and the man apparently called Dongsik practically hung over the balustrade as they watched him discreetly approach the lady (or at least as discreetly as someone with approximately 80% giraffe genetics was capable of doing anything). Throughout the whole interaction the young woman kept up an extremely theatrical air of wrongfully accused innocence, but Reid remained mercifully un-slapped and at least once his back was turned she had the decency to look somewhat sheepish.

The next day at breakfast Morgan noted that her cutlery remained intact. Those on the empty table right beside hers though? Not so much.

He sighed, lifted his head, shared a brief, half-amused, half-annoyed look with Lee Dongsik across the room and turned back to his breakfast.

Oh well. They tried.

[best-dam-huntress]

intro post for y’all

I’m Thalia, and my friend Annabeth thought this website was a good idea. Can’t wait to see us break this thing!

@annabeth-is-a-wise-girll — smartest person I know

@percy-jackson-is-a-seaweed-brain — living seaweed

@grover-eats-cans — best satyr you will ever meet. give him your recycling.

@the-best-superman-on-olympus — tried to eat a stapler as a child

@team-leoo — melted a bridge that one time

@calypso-daughter-of-atlas — i think she was on island for awhile?

@nico-the-ghost-king — he used to be happy once

@hazel-the-diamond — we have literally never met… nico's other sister?

@sunny-boy-solace — idk who he is! seems chill enough

@theonlycoachhedge — has an obsession with baseball bats

@the-argo-ii-resident-matchmaker — I think you were dating my brother at some poingt?

@why-did-i-get-acne — ha! deal with it sucker

@the-amazhang-teddybear — heard you can turn into koi fish?

@lukemessedup — blacklist him.

I’ll be using the tag #thalia tells to keep you people up to date!