#Apple Share price

[news4dzhozhar]

[transarsonist]

law idea: products that are not currently and will not be purchasable from the parent company for the foreseeable future are not counted as "copywritten" in regard to the sharing, reproduction, and other "piracy" claims in court of law.

if you aren't selling them your customer doesn't have to buy

this is in regards to all copyright, if someone starts a factory producing clones of iPhone and iMac chips for the purpose of repairing devices, that's not copyright infringement, because apple does not sell those chips :)

if they want to keep their copyright they can put their repair chips on the public market, continue matinance of old products, etc

Nintendo will hate this law the most I'm sure.

widows is surprisingly robust to this law as you can actually buy every copy of windows ever produced right now on windows website, albeit you might have a hard time finding it because they'd PERfer you didn't.

streaming companies dropping original content from their service for tax purposes can expect to find it on YouTube the next day for free no ads

I think you all will be able to see how this will have a hotting effect on the market, where as now copyright holders have the power to delete content from the legal sphere, under this law they cannot do that. they can sell it themselves or they can give it away for free.

no more manufactured scarcity for the sake of inflating already inflated prices

[monicascot]

DO THIS NOW | FROM INCARCERATED TO INCORPORATED

This video provides an overview of the current stock market and the best strategies to navigate it during this bear market. It explores the importance of diversifying your investments, understanding the risks and rewards associated with investing, and the benefits of long-term investing. Additionally, the video provides tips and advice on how to make the most of the current market conditions.

[inkskinned]

so while i was writing the book, i became violently suicidal.

this was mostly due to the fact that i had a very bad reaction to some meds and my brain stopped producing any serotonin. also i was in the last semester of grad school where it's actually illegal to feel anything but dread. so it wasn't going well.

somewhere in the fog of it i became aware i needed help. nobody was taking clients or my insurance. i didn't want to do inpatient care - it wasn't right for my needs. there's not really an "in between" stage between "inpatient" and "no care," but i was trying to do the right thing. i was trying to activate the chain of command that was my emergency plan. i knew i needed help now.

i used betterhelp.

i know, i know. i'm a straight-A student and so smart and so clever, how could i ever use something so blatantly bad. to be honest with you, i didn't feel particularly keen on it from the getgo - things that seem too good to be true usually are. also, if something online is free, the price is usually your privacy.

the thing is that there was kind of a global pandemic happening at the time and i worked 5 jobs alongside of being a fulltime student and also like writing a book on the side. it is a miracle that i even thought about getting help. i would love to tell you i had the mental wherewithal to like, process whether this was the right choice for me. mostly i was desperate. i was so suicidal that i was trying to find a reason to stay inside of fortune cookies. i was the kind of suicidal that looks like splatterpaint. i hadn't been that bad in an entire decade.

they took my data. i gave them it freely. somewhere out there, they have a dossier on me. on everything i survived. my story in little datapoints, scattergraphed beautifully.

the first woman told me that really i should be grateful, because (and this is a direct quote): "at least you're not anne frank." i said that i felt that statement was antisemitic, as anne frank's life and experience shouldn't be compared to like, a nonbinary lesbian in western massachusetts. the therapist said that i should try to use lucid dreaming to try to picture myself in an actually scary situation, like running from nazis.

i applied for another therapist. i was willing to accept the possibility that there was a bad apple in the bunch. the next therapist and i even laughed about how inappropriate that statement was. and then, in our next session: the new therapist said if i was struggling with body image issues, i should just work harder on my appearance. she spent 3 sessions in a row talking about how she was grieving, and made me memorize facts about her grandmother so "she can live on through my clients."

i am a three's-a-charm kind of person. okay, so what if the last person made me uncomfortable. i figured it was just a misunderstanding of priorities - she had felt she was sharing with me, i had felt like i had to take care of her. i applied for another therapist.

the last woman asked me to help her pray. she bowed her head. i stared at her, frozen, while she said: lord, i beg you: cure her. take the pain of being gay away from her.

i spent somewhere between 2.5 and 3 months on betterhelp. in that whole time, i was not getting the professional help i so desperately needed, even though i was fucking trying.

in the end, i survived this because i finally could get off the meds that were literally killing me. a request for a real therapist finally went through. i survived because my friends saved my life. because nick let me sob myself dry in his arms. because maddie took the razors out of my room when i asked them to. because grace slept over in my bed for like 3 weeks in a row since nobody trusted me not to hurt myself when i was alone. i survived because i got fucking lucky. because even when i was desperately suicidal, i was too old and too self-aware to take "you need to be prettier" as good advice.

the thing is that there's a 19 year old me who isn't like that. who would have heard "just think about how grateful you should be" and said - oh, i see. i would have assumed that is what it means to be in therapy: the same thing my abusers used to tell me. that i am just pretending and lazy. that i am ugly and unworthy.

betterhelp positioned itself to take advantage of an incredibly vulnerable community. it preys on desperation. it knows it is serving people who are not doing well mentally. it saw that there is a huge need for real, immediate, compassionate mental health care: and then it fucking takes your money and privacy.

i still get their ads on instagram. last night i watched as a woman in a pool pretends to talk to a different woman. they discuss her anxiety.

there's a 19 year old version of me, and she didn't survive this. she was too tired, and drowning. i almost fucking died. this thing almost fucking killed me.

in the ad, the woman playing the therapist takes a note on a clipboard and then nods once, sagely.

i have to admit it's a pretty scene. the steam and light coming off the pool water lands on the actresses. like this, it almost looks baptismal, holy.

[peachesofteal]

Through Me (The Flood) - secret baby fic Simon Riley / female reader - 18+ fantasy smut, description of a threesome, hospital/medical jargon request: team dinner, sick fic, someone drops the L word

"Cannae get over the size of the lad."

Orion's got a fist curled around Johnny's fingers, trying and failing to pull them into his mouth.

"I know." You roll your eyes, inclining your head towards Simon. "Are you really surprised though?"

Everyone laughs. Simon warms.

You've broken out of your shell, piece by piece over the course of dinner, shyly getting to know everyone, watching their banter and usual bullshit.

He wasn't sure it was possible, but the way you tease Soap makes him love you even more.

"No, suppose not." Soap laughs, and you smile at him, full and bright, so cute he could tug you into his lap right here in front of his entire team, spread you wide for them to see, show them how much of a good girl you are. How perfect you are, how you cum on his fingers, how tight your pussy squeezes. Of course, he'd never let Johnny or Kyle touch you, too much inexperience, too much raw energy, but his captain-

he'd help you take John's cock. Hold your back to his chest, pull your knees up towards your ears. You'd whine and cry and he'd lick your tears, telling you how pretty you are with his captain's fat cock in your belly, reaching down to rub your clit and spread his fingers over where you're stretched.

It's fantasy. Nothing more. He's shared girls with John in the past, but the things they did as younger men are in the past, where they belong. They’re both too possessive, obsessive, and neither could bear it.

You'll never know another man again.

"Okay," Cami claps, pulling his attention, "Pie?"

"I'll help." You push your chair back, leaning over to press a kiss against Orion's cheek, and then stand, brow crinkled, slowly blinking.

Everything in Simon goes cold, muscles tensing. Something is wrong. He calls your name, but you don't respond. "Hey, hey mama-" In a split second, he hands the baby to Soap, turning back just in time to see your legs buckling, falling towards the edge of the table, where Price leaps from his seat, catching you with a forearm.

Chairs scrape, Cami shouts, Gaz starts dialing as you're lowered to the floor, his captain's fingers firm under your jaw. "Pulse is elevated." Nausea roars, skull pressurizing as Simon drops to his knees at your side, holding your face between his hands. He says your name, says it over and over, desperation and fear cracking the syllables, splitting them wide. You're breathing, but your heart is racing, triple a normal rhythm.

This is his fault. He should have pushed you harder to see a specialist, should have paid better attention, should have taken better care of-

Orion starts to cry.

"They're on their way." Gaz tells the room calmly, level head prevailing. It jolts Simon, orients him, pulls him out of a dreadful spiral and back to the needs at hand. He holds onto it, composure barely a shred as he strokes his thumb across the apple of your cheek, counting your breaths, gaze locked on the rise and fall of your chest.

"It's okay," he says, hoping somewhere behind your closed eyes, you can hear him, "it's gonna be alright, honey. I'm here, 'm right here."

Time passes in a blur, everything happening too quickly and all at once, medics arriving, flat keys passing to Gaz and Cami, who offer to take Orion home and stay there for as long as needed, John and Soap promising they'll meet him at the hospital as you're loaded into the back of the ambulance, Simon stepping in behind.

"She's gonna be alright, LT." Johnny yells right before the doors close, confidence in his eyes. It's hopeful, and firm, and Simon clings to it as they race down the road, unable to look away from where you lay with an oxygen mask fitted over your nose and mouth, monitors beeping too quickly in the foreground on the sirens.

"Mr Riley?" He turns from his pacing on a dime, registering the subtle jerk from the nurse before her expression turns placid. "Your wife is conscious, we've admitted her for some testing. Would you like to see her?"

"Yes." He croaks, looking over his shoulder at Johnny and Price, who give him a serious nod. Testing. Admitted. Christ. "What happened? Is she..." he loses his words, fear seizing his lungs yet again, before he manages a breath, "is she going to be okay?" They come to a stop in front of a room, and the nurse gives him a sympathetic smile.

"She's conscious, heart rate down to a healthy bpm. The cardiologist will be by shortly to discuss everything with you." It's a non answer, building frustration in the pit of his stomach, but he nods. "Found him!" She announces as she opens the door, and you smile from across the room.

He's never closed a distance so fast in his life.

"Hey-" He covers your mouth with his, hand on the back of your head. He was supposed to protect you, keep you safe, and look where you are. "Whoa." You whisper, and he shakes his head.

"Scared me to death."

"I'm sorry. I d-don't... I don't know what's wrong." Your voice creaks, breaking on a thick note, and he pulls a chair as close as he can manage up to the bed, holding onto your hand.

"It's okay, sweetheart. It's okay. We're gonna figure it out, alright?" You nod, lower lip rolling, trembling, and he wants to wrap you up, rip himself open and bury you inside his heart, hidden away from everything, anything that could hurt you, even your own body.

"Orion?"

"Went home with Kyle and Cami. They'll stay as long as we need them." You sniffle, tear spilling down your cheek. He feels sick.

"Shhh, you're alright, mama."

"I'm scared." You're crying now, trying to wipe your face with trembling fingers.

"I know. I know you are, but it's going to be okay. I'm here, 'm gonna make sure you're taken care of. Take a breath f'me," your inhale is shaky, but you manage it, and he smiles encouragingly, "that's it- good."

The knock on the door comes a few seconds later, and Simon swallows everything threatening to upend him as the doctor steps in the room. It's okay. It's okay.

"Mrs Riley?" You manage a raised eyebrow in Simon's direction, and he gives you a small smile. Best to not get into it. You clear your throat.

"That's... me."

"A what?"

"A tilt table test. It's the most accurate test for diagnosing POTS." You're nervous, Simon can tell, glancing continually at him, who is latched onto every word coming from the doctor's mouth.

"What... how does it work?"

"We lay you flat on a table, and then after a few minutes, tilt you directly upright. At the same time, we track your heart rate with an ECG, and your blood pressure with a cuff. If the tilt doesn't trigger the response, we usually start an IV to give you a little bit of medicine which can provoke the response so to speak, if needed." You gulp.

"Is it safe?" Simon grits, the idea of you strapped to table with wires and an IV making his head spine.

"Very safe," the doctor reassures patiently, "the test has little risk of complications." You squeeze Simon's hand, and he squeezes back. I'm here.

"Okay, let's... let's do it then."

The test takes too long. Every minute, every second you're not within eye sight breaks him down, threatens to derail his level head.

By the time you’re back in the room, he’s resumed pacing, hand rubbing the back of his neck raw.

“Hi.” You smile. You seem… better. More relaxed, less scared. It soothes him.

“Hey mama. Everything go alright?”

“I fainted during the test.” You whisper, and he brings your hand to his lips.

“That’s alright.”

It’s POTS. More severe than a standard case, the doctor says, explaining how an off label side effect of a specific medication helps treat the condition. In addition, he goes over things that may exacerbate it, caffeine, alcohol, stress, and promises you can still breastfeed on the medicine and resume normal activity.

There’s a plan. A treatment. An answer, and Simon likes that. He likes knowing the path ahead, how to better care for you, how to make sure you’re supported, and you’re more comfortable too, happy to know there’s an end in sight for your symptoms.

What started as a terrifying experience ends as an okay one, and when the two of you relieve Gaz and Cami at home, he can’t help but pull you into his body, Orion snuggled in your arms.

“Want to tell me what that Mrs. Riley thing was about?” He shrugs as nonchalantly as he can muster.

“I love you, mama, and you’re going to be my wife. Might as well get you used to the name sooner rather than later.” He doesn’t miss your sharp intake breath, the shiver cascading over your skin.

Your head tips back, lips parted, and he kisses you long and slow, holding you tight, safe in his arms.

Where you belong.

[shadow4-1]

This can't be happening.

“C’mon…c’mon…” You mutter through gritted teeth, leg shaking in discomfort.

The heli jerks from turbulence, but you don’t have it in you to panic. Another wave of stomach cramps hits you like a punch to the gut. You wince and breathe out hard. You’ve dealt with food poisoning enough to recognize the signs, except, it was never you in the patient’s position. Nikolai comes over the comms. Ten minutes from base. You could kiss the bastard. At this rate you know you’ll be able to make it back.

The rest of your team isn’t faring much better.

Price sits stock still at the end of your group, eyes far away. There’s a thick sheen of sweat on his brow. He looks paler than usual. Judging by the way his adam’s apple bobs up and down, you know which end the contaminated MREs are going to come up. And of course he fights his nausea all the way.

Next to Price is Gaz, who sits completely doubled over on himself. He tries to hide his grimace under the brim of his faded, blue ball cap but its no use. Despite the rushing wind and the crackling commands of the comms, you can make out his grunts of pain. A sudden jolt of turbulence makes him press a firm palm to his lower belly. He grits his teeth so hard his lips quirk up and you can see the gleam of his teeth. He crinkles his nose in disgust and discomfort.

Farther down on the bench sits Soap, who is (for better or for worse) completely passed out. He leans against Ghost, a thick dribble of saliva spilling out of the corner of his mouth. You cringe at the realization he’s probably going to puke upon being woken up. But, its probably why Ghost has his arm wrapped protectively around Soap’s shoulders. His arm position keeps the unconscious man upright, but also keeps him out of the predicted splashzone.

Speaking of Ghost, his eyes are wide and bloodshot, and his chest seems to heave with every breath. The two of you share a moment of eye contact before another wave of stomach cramps hit you. With every internal muscle you own, you force your body to keep your fluids inside you. It hurts so inconceivably bad, but thankfully the moment passes and you get a brief moment of relief. You don’t have much longer before you inevitably shit your pants, but hopefully you’ll have enough time to get to the bathroom.

Through heavy breaths you glance around again. Price is the only one who’s situation seems to have changed. His hand sits on his thigh, balled up in a tight fist. He seems to focus on it, for a moment before releasing his grip. He shakily exhales.

This is not good.

Nikolai comes on the comms again. Finally, it’s landing time. Everyone but Soap perches on the edge of their seats, fingers twitching at their seatbelt release buttons. You try really hard to think about your next plan of attack. The closest bathrooms from the helipad would be the men’s. If you remember correctly, they only have four stalls which are usually occupied. The women’s bathrooms are on the other side of the barracks. If you ran like hell you’d probably make it, but you’d most certainly disturb your fellow females with the very uncomfortable symphony of your body turning itself inside out. Then you have it. The best idea in your God forsaken life.

The rec-room restroom.

The rec-room was for 141 enjoyment alone, and thusly, the bathroom. There were two stalls (for male and female, but it didn’t really matter). If you were fast enough you could probably beat out Soap and Gaz. You were certain that both Price and Ghost were going to make a beeline for their personal quarters. Neither man seemed like the type to let their weakness show to their team.

The heli lands.

In a flash, seatbelts and kits are undone and tossed away. Ghost smacks Soap’s chest with the back of his hand. The Scot jolts upright, covers his mouth, then throws himself out of the still whirring aircraft. Everyone watches through their frenzied movements as Soap is the first to break. He trips and falls off the concrete helipad and into the grass surrounding it. He gets up onto his hands and knees, then vomits so hard his body shakes.

You feel a spasm in the back of your throat at the sight, but swallow it down. You will NOT be puking in the heli. In fact, you weren’t going to let yourself puke at all. Absolutely not.

Price is the first one out. You’ve never seen the man unsteady, and yet, you see him skip a step on the way down. A poor sergeant tries to greet him, but is pushed aside with a firm hand to the chest. Price would never do something like that unless…he wasn’t going to make it?

You stand there in shock for a moment, but then are nearly sent tumbling out of the heli. Gaz practically bowls you over as he runs after your Captain. He didn’t apologize either. You nearly grab at his collar and jerk him backwards out of annoyance, but opt to be the bigger person.

Okay. Show time.

The poor Sergeant winces as you stagger up to him. You ask him to send Soap to sick-bay, and to alert the medical staff that the whole team would be headed there at some point. He seems nervous, and so, despite your discomfort, you offer him a smile and a pat on the shoulder as you shuffle away. He visibly softens, then immediately rushes to Soap’s aid. You breathe out a sigh of relief. Of course, despite having to shit just as bad as the rest of them, you have to be the adult in this situation. Oh well, you know you’ll make it.

Just as you thought, Ghost was missing, probably already half-way back to his room. You throw yourself into overdrive. You zip through the back hallways and up the steps to the back of the barracks. Your boots skid on the old linoleum as you round the corner to the rec-room. You can hear the sounds of Gaz’s retching echoing through the hall. Just as you reach for the handle to the empty bathroom stall, a pair of hands grab you hard by the waist.

You scream. Mostly out of shock, but also of discomfort, as the movement causes your stomach contents to shift violently. You claw and kick at the man at your back, but it’s no use. You recognize his skeleton gloves in a heartbeat.

You elbow him hard enough he grunts but he doesn’t let go as he wrestles you out of the way. You cry at him, asking him why he can’t just go to his room. He doesn’t answer, but instead, jerks you towards the wall opposite the stall. You slip and fall, shoulder hitting the concrete. You hiss in pain but watch helplessly as the larger man slams open the stall and steps into it.

“Ain’t gonna make it.”

He then slams the door closed, the lock clicking shut.

You would’ve cried if not for the worst wave of cramps you’d ever felt. You double over and try desperately to clench your sphincters shut. Like hell you were going to let yourself shit your pants here on the rec-room floor. Fuck Ghost. If you had it in you, you’d shit on his bed for this fuck shit.

You breathe hard, centering yourself until the accursed wave finally leaves you. You know that if you don’t find a bathroom by the next wave, its all over. You think hard. You try desperately to locate a clean, out of the way bathroom using your fried brain’s mental map. You bite your bottom lip. You’ve got it!

You don’t remember the run to sick bay but you do remember crashing into the nurse’s desk. The head nurse seems to know exactly what your problem is. She uses her keys to unlock an unassuming closet at the end of the hall. You nearly cry for joy at the sight of the perfectly clean, porcelain throne. You don’t even think about closing the door as you shuck off your sweaty fatigues. The nurse, thankfully, locks the door from the outside as your ass hits the toilet seat. Right as the final wave of cramps hit you and you see God, your brain can only think of two things.

One, you’re never going to eat MREs again.

And two, you’re totally going to shit on Ghost’s bed for this.

[chrollogy]

SIGNED: LOVESICK FOOL #01

iwaizumi hajime x f!reader

next | masterlist

synopsis: You decide to try out the university confessions page as an anonymous submitter to write a vague paragraph about your feelings for Iwaizumi—oddly enough, students following the page seems to be hooked in your confession.

chapter content warning: college au, fluff, oikawa appearance :3, reader is helplessly in love with mr iwaizumi hajime, not beta read.

word count: 2.3k

notes: divider: cafekitsune. sorry this came a bit late >< i fell asleep LMAOOOOOO

Falling in love has always been a weird concept. One day you wake up, and feel completely different towards a certain someone who you swear you only love platonically; your heart starts to race faster whenever you’re in their presence, mind formulating a million different thoughts on how to act normally until it loses its meaning, suddenly becoming overly self conscious of one’s appearance, and always wanting to look your very best whenever they’re around—the whole package.

Unfortunately, you were all too familiar with this.

As though in a romance movie, the whole world slowed down as your eyes landed on the person before you, anything, and everything faded into nothing—a mere whitenoise behind the rapid pounding of your heart.

Iwaizumi’s hair gleamed beneath the sun’s afternoon rays, long lashes ghosted over the apple of his cheeks, rosy lips slightly puckered in concentration. You remembered it like yesterday—the strong aroma of roasted coffee beans, the light chatter of other customers in the café, the warm blanket of sunshine, the heart-stopping eye contact.

Iwaizumi called your name a total of three times until you finally broke free from your trance; everything flooded back the moment your name slipped past his parted lips for the third time—as though suddenly reeled from a freeze frame.

You remembered blinking at him, letting a heartbeat or two pass before asking him what he needed, though, Iwaizumi’s words entered one ear, and left the other; you were more focused on the way his plush lips moved with every word spoken, mind wondering what it’d feel like against your own.

That night, you tossed, and turned beneath your ivory blanket; mind a complete mess, and heart an even bigger mess. You just didn’t get why you had to catch feelings for Iwaizumi out of all people.

It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, never but everything between the two of you has been strictly platonic ever since—hell, you both even had a fair share of past relationships; you felt indifferent when Iwaizumi introduced his first girlfriend to you but now, just the thought introducing another woman made your stomach churn uncomfortably.

Realising that bottling up these feelings was a foolish thing to do, you scoured your mind for anything, and everything just to find some kind of release from all these unsaid thoughts. You were close to giving up, and retire for the night until a random thought popped into your mind,

Seijoh University Anonymous Confessions.

The unofficial page was undoubtedly popular amongst the students of the university, it served as a freedom wall where one was given the ability to express anything, and everything to fellow students behind anonymity; ranging from harmless rants about the meal prices all the way to heartfelt messages, you name it.

Submitting a confession was easy, all one had to do was fill up an anonymous form linked on the page, and wait ‘til moderators post it for everyone else to see.

You’ve always just been an avid reader of the confessions, a mere pastime in between lectures, and study breaks. It was interesting to see other students’ perspective, and thoughts in the campus you all shared, serving you a reminder that despite being in the same environment, everyone experienced things very differently.

Though, the only constant factor in everyone’s university lives was the confession page, even yours.

Despite the page ensuring full anonymity, it was still nerve-wracking to turn your feelings into words, your thumbs shook as you typed each letter into the anonymous form. You knew Iwaizumi would eventually see this confession despite only reading from the page from time to time, you just hoped it was vague enough for him to not notice—he was smart, and usually pieced clues together like it was nothing.

Surely out of all these students submitting confessions to this page everyday, Iwaizumi wouldn’t know, right?

The next few days consisted of refreshing said page, and waiting for your confession to pop up. “You’ve picked up your phone at least ten times in the past two minutes, what’s so interesting?” Oikawa’s dulcet voice pulled you into reality, your torso unceremoniously jerked away to shield your phone as he attempted to take a peek at the device in your hand.

The former narrowed his eyes at you but before he could throw a sly remark your way, Iwaizumi let out an annoyed sigh which gained yours, and Oikawa’s attention.

“Oikawa, if you’re bored, go bother someone outside the study room.”

The brunette playfully rolled his eyes before standing up to stretch, a small yawn slipping past his rosy lips. “Alright, I’m going to get some snacks. Anyone want any?” He grabbed his phone off the table before shifting his gaze between you, and Iwaizumi who only shook his head in silence, completely preoccupied with an assignment.

“Can I come?” “No, go scroll on your phone.”

Oikawa stuck his tongue out, not letting you protest before leaving the study room. The sound of the door clicking echoed throughout the walls of the study room, a deafening silence engulfed you, and Iwaizumi; for you, the silence was awkward, for him, it was completely normal.

If your heart were to pound any louder against your chest, you were sure he would’ve heard.

You randomly flipped through the pages of your textbook, trying to make yourself look busy. God, you couldn’t get more awkward than this. A flurry of overly self-conscious thoughts flooded your mind—would he think I’m weird for flipping too many pages? Fuck, am I reading this paragaph too fast? Is my posture okay? Oh god, I haven’t looked at a mirror all day, do I look fine? Is my hair messy?

Small, sharp prickles kissed down your body as heat engulfed you out of nowhere, cheeks warmed, and palms sweaty. You let out a sigh, nails digging into the skin of your nape, attempting to relieve the annoying itch.

“You okay? You seem very stressed lately.” Iwaizumi pushed his laptop screen halfway down to get a better view of you, he was slouched far into his seat, arms propped on either side of his laptop. His gaze met your own, deep emerald eyes boring into your very core. With a racing heart, you turned your mind upside down for an answer,

“Yeah . . I’m fine. Just tired is all.” Mentally cursing yourself, your nails harshly dug into the hearts of your palm—your voice came out small, and airy, not really convincing but whatever. If Iwaizumi caught your little white lie, he didn’t press on, instead returning a subtle dip of his chin before shifting his gaze back onto the laptop before him.

Sounds of soft keyboard tapping, and the low hum of the wall clock accompanied the deafening silence, you sat there twiddling your thumbs like a dumbass as if you weren’t supposed to be studying.

Iwaizumi wasn’t even doing anything yet here you were, warm faced, and as stiff as a board, if only he knew the effect he had on you. It was beyond embarrassing, really, how he was able to have this effect on you with little to no effort but then again, this was the Iwaizumi Hajime, of course it made sense.

For the first time in forever, you silently wished Oikawa came back as soon as possible—each second passed without a word spoken between you, and Iwaizumi, and you could really use the brunette right now to diffuse the growing awkwardness on your side.

As if the heavens answered your prayer, Oikawa came striding past the door, a bunch of snacks tucked neatly beneath his arm, and torso; you’ve never felt happier seeing him but you weren’t about to let anyone know. The brunette held his phone with his other hand, brown eyes concentrated on the device,

“Have you guys read the new confession? The page just posted it a couple of minutes ago.” He set the snacks on the table, and slid one your way before sitting down.

That’s right, just like you, Oikawa was also an avid reader of the university confessions page as though it was the morning newspaper. You couldn’t really blame him, the whole concept of it was interesting, plus, some confessions were rather strange but fascinating, nonetheless.

Iwaizumi wordlessly shook his head, not sparing a glance at his friend, you, on the other hand, felt a sudden wave of panic wash over your body. Did they finally post your confession? You squirmed in your seat, trying to act nonchalant, and completely normal about the situation at hand, “Mmm, no, not yet. Is it that interesting?”

Oikawa let out a low hum, an amused smile plastered on his face, with the way his gaze shifted back, and forth across the screen of his phone, he seemed to be reading the newest confession. The expression on Oikawa’s face did nothing to relax your nerves, he looked like he was enjoying every bit of the post—surely, you didn’t put much detail into it for anyone to piece it together or did you?

You expected the brunette to answer a simple yes or no along with a little explanation like he always did whenever he brought up the confessions page but apparently, he decided he’d read it out loud without you or Iwaizumi even asking.

Oikawa cleared his throat, “Here, I’ll read it out loud,” 

“Oh god. Never in a million years did I think this would happen to me but lately I’ve noticed that every time I see him, my heart starts racing. I can’t act normally around him anymore and he just looks so handsome whenever I see him. It’s hopeless, I know but some part of me wishes that my feelings are reciprocated. I don’t blame myself for falling in love because he’s such an amazing guy. He’s my everything, he knows that but he doesn’t know I don’t mean platonically. Sigh.”

As your friend read deeper into the paragraph, you slouched further into your seat, cheeks burning like the sun, and embarrassment engulfing your whole body. That was your confession. Fuck, you just wanted the floor to swallow you whole right then, and there.

Your eyes darted between Oikawa, and Iwaizumi, scanning their expressions—the former obviously had a smug smile on his face while the latter looked indifferent; the same old deadpan expression he’d worn since the start of your study session.

As if to make things worse for you, the brunette spoke up again, “It’s gaining quite the attention only because it's such a juicy confession, and students are trying to find out who’s in love with their best friend.” Oikawa chuckled, turning off his phone, and resting his palms behind his head.

What the fuck. How was your confession gaining more attention than the others? Last time you checked, yours was just a typical love confession, something all students have seen hundreds of times on the page, nothing special.

“W-what? Why? Why is it gaining attention?” Your tone came out more panicked than intended. Upon realising this, you awkwardly cleared your throat, and took a sip from your water bottle to help your nerves calm a tad bit before speaking up once again, “What’s so interesting about it, anyway?”

Oikawa shrugged, “Just a typical love confession but I’m not going to lie, it’s always interesting whenever someone has feelings for their best friend.”

Grabbing the snack Oikawa gave you earlier, you hastily opened the bag, and popped a chip in your mouth. Yeah, maybe eating something will calm your nerves.

This time, it was Iwaizumi’s turn to speak up, “Mhm. I’m guessing everyone’s just curious about it, maybe many can relate. It’s not easy being in love with your best friend.” He finally looked up from his laptop, dark emerald eyes shifting from Oikawa to you.

His gaze lingered a little too long for your liking which caused your brain to short circuit. Before you knew it, all you could do was listen to the sound of your yearning heart, fingers curling around the chip packet as your grip tightened.

You sucked in a breath, and averted your gaze from Iwaizumi, staring at the contents of your chip packet, “True . . I feel sorry for OP, especially since it's a long term friendship.” At least your voice didn’t come out shaky this time. Iwaizumi only nodded, he seemed to be in deep thought, whatever the reason was, you absolutely didn’t want to know.

Back in your dorm, you couldn’t help but check the comments under your confession, and as Oikawa stated earlier, majority of it were students tagging their friends on the post, and trying to find out who’s in love with their best friend. Some also gave sound advice about the situation which you appreciated, though, you didn’t know if you were really ready for a face to face confession with Iwaizumi.

Weirdly enough, the unexpected attention gave you a bit of confidence now that you were looking at it from another perspective. Earlier, it felt like a complete nightmare with how much other students were invested in your sad lovelife but now that you’ve calmed down, it was reassuring to see others give blind support, and words of encouragement.

Safe to say, there was still a hint of community between students despite everyone fighting their way through the semesters.

Plus, everyone seemed to await your next confession post, so who were you to deny them that? After all, you couldn’t really talk about it with anyone else, why not share it with the student population behind anonymity?

As expected, not only did your confession gain more traction within the next few days, but friends from classes you’re taking have also been talking about it. Though you couldn’t really comprehend what was so special about your submission, your feelings felt nothing but valid. Suddenly, it didn’t really feel like much of a crime being in love with your best friend—running away from your feelings was never an option but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t once cross your mind.

A million thoughts from students floated throughout the campus regarding the confession; ‘I wonder what their best friend is like?—he must be a really amazing guy.’ ‘I’m kind of curious as to what the person behind the confession is going to do next.’ ‘Heh, what if this confession is actually meant for me?’ ‘When will it be my turn?’

You’ve heard it all.

Despite everyone’s attention on the post, you just really wished that in the back of Iwaizumi’s mind, there was a pressing thought telling him the confession might be for him.

—

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© chrollogy 2024 | don't plagiarise, repost or steal my header.

[lonniemachin]

I was asked to help share Maram's fundraiser. She is a young displaced Palestinian mother urgently raising money to evacuate she and her family from Gaza. She has only raised €225 out of her €30,000 goal so far! Please share and donate, and if you can't donate, please still share!

From Maram's GFM:

‏Hi, my name is Maram. I am 28 years old. I am a Palestinian from Gaza City.A mother for 3 kids. This is my husband, Ahmed, and my children are Habiba, four years old, kareem, two years old, and Mohammad, nine months old. ‏My family and I went through very difficult circumstances in Gaza after October 7th ‏

It’s painful to say that we lost everything. But yes

we did! We lost our beautiful homeland with all its memories, we lost our job, we lost our lives and our dreams. We evacuated our house with only a small bag of clothes before it was bombed and destroyed. So technically YES we have lost EVERYTHING, from the biggest to the smallest little detail.

We have been displaced 6 times. My children left our home for the first time and moved to another home, and then we moved with the family to another, less safe home. Then the army ordered us to flee to southern Gaza, so we fled to the ground, then we ended up fleeing to a small tent and sleeping on the sand. ‏

My family suffers from a lack of food, especially ‏the children. My child, Mohammed, who is 9 months old, ran out of breast milk due to malnutrition, and the price of infant formula has doubled. Kareem and Habiba saw the simplest thing that could be available to children, which is apples, so they screamed and cried, wanting an apple, but the price of one apple reached 10 dollars or more!! ‏In addition, there was also a lack of healthy drinking water, which caused them severe stomach pain and diseases such as hepatitis A.

‏Due to the conditions imposed by the occupation, the siege, and the lack of resources, it has become difficult for my family to provide the children with basic and simple needs, such as diapers. It is difficult to provide all the needs, and due to the poor quality of the types of diapers available, my children suffered from a skin problem ‏ My family also suffers from not having a bathroom or even a shower. We can only shower once a month using a bucket due to lack of water. There is no electricity or gas either. ‏Every morning, I wash my children's clothes in cold water and spread the clothes out in the open air. If there is food, it is cooked on firewood, which is completely unhealthy and tastes bad. Me and my husband shared a beautiful life together. Our home was always filled with love and laughter. My children are the most precious thing I have in my life. ‏ Our lives were once full of dreams and hopes, but the never-ending cycle of conflict in Gaza shattered those dreams. Now our only goal is to survive. ‏ While others dream of the future, we long for the past, remembering the life we once lived before the horrors of war tore it apart.

‏I have hesitated to ask for financial assistance for several months, but the reality is that life in Gaza has become impossible in the near future. With schools destroyed and opportunities disappearing, our only chance for a better life lies beyond these borders. ‏ My only hope is to save my little family and we need €30,000 to make it out of Gaza, to start a new life from scratch. It is very difficult to leave homeland, but we are forced To get out of Gaza. Your kindness can make a big difference to us. Your donation, no matter how small, will help us escape the constant fear and uncertainty that has plagued our lives for so long. If you're not able to donate, simply sharing our campaign with your friends, family and social networks can also have a huge impact. ‏Together, we can give my children the opportunity to grow up in a world free of the horrors of war. Your kindness will help us build a brighter future and restore hope to a family that has endured so much suffering. ‏ Thank you from the bottom of our hearts for your sympathy and support! Your contributions will not only change our lives, but will also provide hope to countless people affected by similar circumstances.

[mistydeyes]

hiiiii I LOVE YOUR WORK!!!!!!!! Can you please do 141 with a model reader who does Chanel,Versace etc and she gets an invite to do Victoria’s Secret runway and they see her down the runway how would they react

she’s not any model shes and icon,sex symbol,brains,she is the moment

big inspo for me ( I want to become a model)

AHHH I LOVE THIS! anon i feel you tho, every time i look on pinterest i just want to be a model! thank you for requesting <3

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summary: The 141 has always had an odd connection of friends, allies, and connections. However, they can't deny that they don't enjoy your luxurious life as a model and the perks that come along with attending one of your shows.

pairing: Taskforce 141 x fem!reader

warnings: swearing

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A series of events in Milan allowed the 141 to cross paths with you. Staying in a lavish French penthouse was far from what they had expected on a mission dictated by Laswell but her connections with your retired INTERPOL mother had brought them the extravagance of your home and lifestyle. Laswell had to threaten to have their court marshaled if they delayed their arrival home any longer. You thought of that brief moment in summer fondly as you left Gaz a voicemail. "I have a runway in New York coming up, let me know if you'll be on leave," you spoke on the phone, examining your manicured nails, "accommodations and champagne are on me." 

"This is nice," Price said, dropping his duffle onto the marbled tile of their hotel room. "Are you kidding, Cap?" Gaz said as he opened every door into the massive suite, "This is fucking amazing." When they got off the plane at JFK, they had not expected a private driver who brought them to the ornate hotel. The room itself had four separate bedrooms with two bathrooms filled with the best amenities. Soap had taken the opportunity to run over and open a bottle of champagne while Ghost pilfered the small shampoo and conditioner bottles. While the men explored the vast rooms and fought over the beds, there was a knock at the door. Price opened it to reveal a well-dressed bell-hop boy, holding a tray with an envelope. "Four tickets sent by one of the models," he spoke and Price handled the black envelope with embossed pink lettering. "Hell of invitation," he muttered before he looked at the runway time and shared the details with his team. "Wonder what she'll be wearing," Soap mused as he turned to take over one of the bathrooms.

Behind the stage, there was organized chaos with models running around in their silk robes in between the stations. The chatter roared as they chatted with the various hair stylists and makeup artists. "First VS show?" your makeup artist asked as she applied glitter delicately to your primed lids. "Yes, but not my first modeling gig," you smiled as you felt the pressure on your closed eyes, "Versace was beyond a mess compared to this." The artist laughed as she continued to prep your look. You could see mixes of pink and gold applied to your lips and the apples of your cheeks. "We think an olive green liner would look stunning on you," she said before holding a green eyeliner pencil in hand. You nodded in response as you shifted a bit in your robe. You gently closed your eyes again as you envisioned your latest outfit for the night.

Weeks prior you had visited the city to see your outfit for the night. A sage green bra and panty set decorated with pink and glittery flowers to resemble a meadow. Your wings were made of a delicate rose pink chiffon that was reminiscent of a fairy. "Do you like?" the designer asked as you walked around the stand and examined every stitch and detail. You smiled as you nodded happily, feeling the soft fabric under your fingertips. "Any particular inspiration?" you questioned as you made sure to feel the weight of the wings. "The newest line of Victoria's Secret," she spoke dreamily, "the delicacy of nature."

With your makeup and hair done, you walked over to change and receive the final touches from the design team. The group walked rapidly around your figure, assuring every detail would shine when the lights hit your walk. "Have anyone special here tonight?" one of the designers asked as he cut a few loose stitches. "Just a few friends from Europe," you spoke, hoping you didn't sound too entitled. You wanted to talk more but your odd friendship with a small special forces group would definitely reach some tabloids. "You look perfect darling," another designer spoke and you nodded before beginning to walk in your heels. "You can mingle with the others. Your collection is after the classics set," she reminded. You took a deep breath and made some facetious conversation with the other women. They were in awe at your previous shows but you just simply talked as if each was a mediocre experience. "Alright ladies, walk begins in five," a voice called over the comms and you lined up accordingly. As you watched the excited group in front of you, you wondered what you would treat the 141 to for dinner. You were sure if someone knew this is what you thought of before a show, they would laugh.

"Move up, Y/N," the stage manager directed, pulling you out of your food-related musings, "almost time for you to go on." You moved forward, getting into the comfort of your model walk you had done so many times before. You took a deep breath as you heard the live music stream through the curtains and the ethereal light peek through. You looked down at your attire one last time before the model ahead of you returned and it was your turn to awe the show. "Go, go, go," you could hear the stage manager command as the bright lights and menagerie of faces met your gaze.

"I think this is her!" Gaz commented, leaning forward in his chair. "You've been saying that for the past four models," Ghost corrected before he turned to see who was coming out next. As the men directed their gaze to the stage, you confidently strutted onto the platform. They were glued to your figure, perfectly accentuated by the flirtatious lingerie set. The details were delicate and encapsulated your aura. "Fuck." Soap whispered under his breath as the glitter and flower additions to your ensemble shimmered underneath the light. Your wings bounced and looked like they flittered in the air as you made your way in front of the watching crowd. "She's a natural at this," Price commented as he watched the way you walked in a straight line with an air of elegance in each step. He also couldn't deny the way you shined on stage and how the cameras clicked in rapid succession. As you reached the end of the runway, you took an opportunity to look over at the seats you had picked for the 141. You gave a small wink before blowing a kiss in their direction. 

Upon your exiting, there was a clamor amongst the group as to who the kiss was directed to. Primarily, Soap and Gaz were at odds thinking you made eye contact with them as you puckered your glossed lips. Price attempted to put a stop to them before Ghost spoke up. "I'm sure that was for me," he spoke quietly, leaving everyone to shelf the conversation and bring it up later over dinner.

[pinknatural]

After googling “what to take to a stranger’s birthday party” and reading the top five articles thoroughly, the first two more than once, Castiel has determined that he should either bring candles, wine, or baked goods. 

A candle seems like a good, safe option, but the Walmart candle aisle is overwhelming. How is he supposed to know if Anna’s-friend-Dean likes oaky, woodsy smells versus lavender-linen smells? Castiel likes the one that smells like a waxy apple pie, but who’s to say that opinion is shared? What if he prefers pine, or something called Deep Twilight Mist? Castiel removes the lid for Deep Twilight Mist and smells the cream-colored wax curiously. It smells like the perfume Hael used to spray everywhere when she was eleven. He puts it back on the shelf. 

There’s a candle that smells like cupcakes. It is a birthday party, so perhaps he would like that. Castiel puts it in the blue plastic basket dangling from his arm, then puts it back on the shelf, tilting it so the label is facing perfectly outward. Maybe Anna’s-friend-Dean doesn’t like candles at all. 

Wine. Everyone likes wine. Well, unless Anna’s-friend-Dean is one of those guys who thinks wine is too feminine. Or if he doesn’t drink at all. Or if he drinks too much. Or, perhaps even worse, if he’s some kind of wine connoisseur and will mock Castiel for buying reasonably-priced wine from Walmart and then blacklist Castiel so thoroughly that he will never find a friend in this town. 

Wine and candles are too complex. But everyone likes baked goods. 

Castiel is stopped in the middle of the road, turn signal blinking to indicate that he would like to turn left into his apartment complex, when he realizes that Anna’s-friend-Dean could be diabetic. But the party is at a restaurant that specializes in hamburgers, so probably not. Hopefully not. All Castiel has to do is successfully implement chocolate chip cookies and then melt into the walls at the party. Be pleasant enough company that next time someone has a large event they allow Anna to invite him again. Go to enough social functions that he can claim to have friends and get Anna off his back. Live quietly, working at the Gas-N-Sip and writing papers about the science of Theology and perhaps even going to the library and reading secular fiction.

Castiel has no expectations of finding actual friendship at Anna’s-friend-Dean’s birthday party. Or ever, really. If he ever gets lonely, he can get a cat.

Anna thinks that Castiel and Dean will get along very well. Castiel thinks that living outside of their mother’s influence has made Anna believe in fairytales. Anna has known Castiel his entire life. She knows full well that he has never gotten along very well with anyone. 

Castiel cracks an egg over the batter. Maybe this whole baking thing will impress Anna so much that she’ll stop bothering him about making friends. 

Who knows, maybe these cookies will unlock something else to add to Castiel’s quiet life. He quite likes the idea of baking.

--

The firefighter is very beautiful. Maybe even the most beautiful person Castiel has ever seen, besides models on the sides of buildings who look so perfect they’re fake.

“You the guy who started the fire?” the beautiful firefighter asks. He puts his hands in his pockets. Castiel’s cheeks burn. Not from any fire. 

“They were just burnt cookies,” he says. “I didn’t know they would set off the smoke alarm.” In the entire building. The other firefighters are by the doors, writing things down, talking to other residents of Castiel’s building. How come the beautiful firefighter was the one who had to talk to Castiel? He sneaks a peek at the man’s arms, but they’re sadly covered by his coat. 

“You burned the cookies on purpose, then?” the firefighter raises an eyebrow. 

“Of course I didn’t,” Castiel says. The firefighter has green eyes and freckles splashed across his nose. Castiel wants him to take off his helmet so he can see what his hair looks like. 

“Right,” the firefighter says. 

“Am I in trouble?” Castiel asks. 

“No,” the firefighter says. He winks. Castiel feels his heart literally skip a beat. “Not a crime to burn cookies. Losing out on the cookies is punishment enough.”

“They weren’t for me,” Castiel says. “They were for a birthday party. Tonight.” For some reason, he wants the firefighter to know that he has a social life. Never mind if the social life was enforced upon him by his older sister.

“A birthday party? Today? Who’s hosting? I gotta fight for my honor.”

Castiel is baffled. What honor? What fight?

“What?”

“Everyone will come,” the firefighter says. He makes a pose, as if he’s flexing. “To see me and this other guy fight to see who’s the Supreme Birthday Boy.” He stretches one arm out, pointing it to the sky, then he opens his fist. “Pow! It’ll be me, of course.” He turns to look back at Castiel. His mouth is very pink. Castiel wishes he understood what words were coming out of it. 

“It’s my birthday, too,” the firefighter says after a moment, when Castiel doesn’t react.

“Oh,” Castiel says. “Why didn’t you just say that?”

“I dunno. Trying to be funny, I guess.”

“Oh,” Castiel says again. Behind the firefighter, he sees that the other residents of his apartment building are filing back inside. For some reason, despite the January chill, Castiel doesn’t want to go back in. Not yet. 

“You know, usually this is the part where people say happy birthday,” the firefighter says. 

“Happy birthday,” Castiel repeats. 

“Thanks!” the firefighter beams. “So do you think I should crash your friend’s party tonight?”

“No,” Castiel says, alarmed at the thought. A firefighter, and probably a bunch of other firefighters, crashing Castiel’s opportunity to stand beside the wall, holding a cup of sprite? When Castiel shows up with store-bought baked goods? And this beautiful firefighter will point right at him and say that Castiel invited them and then Anna’s-friend-Dean will hate him forever, and probably Anna will too? “Also, he’s not my friend.”

“He’s not? Then why are you going to his party?”

“He’s my sister’s friend,” Castiel explains. “I’ve never met him. She thinks I need to leave the house more.” Too late, Castiel remembers that he was supposed to pretend he had a flourishing social life. Oops. 

“Wait,” the firefighter says. His eyes sparkle. “Are you Anna’s brother? Cas-something?”

“Castiel,” he says, with the patience of someone who has had to explain his name a million times. He narrows his eyes. “How did you know that?”

“Dude,” the firefighter says, laughing. “I’m Dean.”

Anna’s-friend-Dean is a beautiful firefighter, with green eyes and freckles? Anna’s-friend-Dean is the Supreme Birthday Boy? Anna’s-friend-Dean probably has very muscular arms, under his uniform?

“Oh,” Castiel says. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too,” the firefighter says. 

“Winchester! Wrap it up!” one of the firemen calls from the truck. Castiel realizes that all the firefighters are about to leave, and everyone from his building is already back inside. When did that happen?

“Be there in a minute!” Dean hollers over his shoulder. When he looks back at Castiel, he grins almost shyly. “You were gonna make me cookies?”

“Yes, I--I thought it would be an appropriate thing to bring.” Castiel wonders again if Dean could be diabetic. Or perhaps allergic to something in chocolate chip cookies. Are chocolate chips made in a peanut-free facility? Maybe Castiel should’ve bought wine, after all.

“Hell yeah,” Dean says. “Whoever said that the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach was dead-fuckin’-on. But, uh.”

“But?” Castiel is sure, suddenly, that Dean is about to reject him and tell him not to come to his birthday party after all. Which would be a shame, because all of a sudden Castiel wanted to go.

“My favorite dessert is pie,” Dean says like a confession. 

“Oh,” Castiel says, eyes widening. Maybe he can swing by the bakery--maybe he can look up a bakery, and then swing by it--on the way to the party. Assuming he’s still going. 

“And, uh, not to toot my own horn, but I make a pretty mean one. I actually made myself a birthday pie, and I was gonna eat it alone, but maybe…I mean…”

“Yes?” Castiel asks. Dean is slightly taller than him, so he tilts his head back to meet his eyes. Dean swallows. Castiel watches his adam’s apple bob.

“Well, I could swing by after my shift is done,” Dean says. “Bring it with me. We could share. Before we go to the Roadhouse, I mean. If you want.”

“I want,” Castiel says before he can think about it. He snaps his mouth shut. Dean brightens. 

“Great,” he says. “I’ll be back. After my shift.”

“When does it end?” Castiel asks. Dean looks at his watch. He grins at Castiel, tongue poking between his teeth.

“Twenty minutes,” he says. 

“Okay,” Castiel says. “I will you soon, then.”

“Yep,” Dean says. “Gimme about an hour, okay? And then we’ll have pie.” 

“Okay,” Castiel says. Dean turns to head back to the firetruck. “What kind of pie?” Cas calls after him. Dean turns. 

“Apple!” he calls. Castiel stands outside, in the January chill without his coat, for a long while after the truck leaves. What a strange man, making his own birthday pie. What a lovely man, sharing it with a stranger. Supreme Birthday Boy, indeed.

--

When Dean returns, in a soft flannel shirt with sleeves rolled up, revealing his magnificent forearms, his hair a spiky mess that Castiel wants to run his fingers through, he has, as promised, an apple pie. And Castiel has a present for him. 

When Dean opens it, he laughs until he almost cries. He lights it right away, and the lingering aroma of burnt chocolate chip cookies is chased away by the apple pie candle from Walmart, a bright, steady little flame flickering between them.

(ao3)

[moonstruckme]

Idk if you’re still taking requests for your bake sale (which is the cutest idea btw) but if you are… apple pie, prompt number 31 with Steve? (three people sat on a two-seater sofa)

I was! This probably wasn't what you had in mind but I thought it would be silly so here you go :)

cw: alcohol

Steve Harrington x fem!reader ♡ 693 words

“Stay still.” Steve’s voice is low, a smile teasing his lips. “I’ve almost got it.” 

You roll your eyes at him, but your own smile is just as poorly repressed. You still love it when he flirts with you. Even when you’re at one of his friend-of-a-friend’s parties where everyone wants to talk with him, Steve only has eyes for you. 

“I don’t know how you missed it the first three times.” 

“Does it seem like I’m fucking around? It’s tricky, babe.” 

“Seems like you might be fucking around a little bit…” you tease.

Steve swipes at something under your eye. “Got it. What’d I tell you?” 

You beam at him. “Okay, I take it back. My hero.” 

His grin widens, but he squints at your face. “Yeah, except now you’ve got makeup on your cheek. Sorry.” 

“Really.” You frown, wiping at where he’d touched with your finger. It must have smeared your mascara. “Can you get it off?” 

“Yeah, just a sec, you’ve gotta make a wish first.” Steve holds up his finger in front of you, your eyelash balanced on its tip. 

You roll your eyes again, but neither of you are buying that you’re anything other than totally besotted with him. You inhale, holding your wish in your head. 

You blow the lash harder than you mean to when you’re jostled from behind. 

Steve frowns over your shoulder. The guy behind you has found a new and innovative way to make out with his girlfriend, him leaning over the edge of the couch and her on the beanbag below. The two of them set up camp long after you and Steve had been sitting on this couch, and the limited space means he occasionally bumps you in his enthusiasm. 

“We should move,” Steve says, not for the first time. 

“No way,” you reply again. “We were here first.” 

“This couch wasn’t made for three people.” 

You huff, irritated. “Yeah, but all the other seating is taken.” 

“I’ll get us a nice patch of carpet,” he bargains. “We’ll treat it like a picnic.” 

You shake your head. You know you’re being stupid, but it’s the principle of the thing. You want the guy who’d squeezed onto your couch to have to share it with you. “It’s not fair that we have to be the ones to move,” you say. 

Steve sighs, but his expression is fond. “Fine. At least swap places with me.” 

You raise your eyebrows at him. “Your funeral,” you say, but you scoot into the spot he leaves vacant when he stands.

Steve presents a stronger front than you had, sitting up instead of leaning away from where the other guy is infringing upon his space. 

“Alright, c’mere,” he says, reaching for you. “Let me get your makeup.” 

You lean forward happily. Steve uses the condensation from his beer to wet his thumb, rubbing at your cheek concentratedly. It’s then that your couch companion chooses to sit up. Evidently, he really had forgotten he was sharing the couch with two other people, because he knocks right into Steve, causing your boyfriend to lurch forward and for a bit of his beer to spout over the lip of the bottle and into your laps. 

You press a hand over your mouth, laughing, while Steve expels an incredulous breath. 

The guy looks back as though surprised to find him there. “Sorry, man.” He claps a hand on Steve’s shoulder, wandering off. 

“Quick,” you urge, “scoot back!” 

When Steve doesn’t move fast enough, you get up and move behind him, taking up the other side of the couch and stretching out your legs so there’s no space for anyone else. 

“What an ass.” Steve still looks in shock. 

“At least we held down the fort,” you say gleefully. “We won in the end.” 

“We won?” He laughs. “You’ve got beer on your pants, baby.” 

You shrug, ignoring the cold on your legs. “A small price to pay for victory.” 

Steve huffs, but he’s grinning, crawling across the couch to meet you. “You are so—” he kisses you firmly “—stubborn.” 

“Mhm, yeah. Now get back in your place before somebody takes it.” 

[last-starry-sky]

kinktober day 31 - scars // monsterfucking - pt. 1

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4

poly!141 x f!reader

[MDNI - NSFW - MIND THE WARNINGS: 1.1k, alcohol mention, no actual sex in this part, just pure halloween fluff 🎃, enjoy!]

tag list (lmk if you'd like to be added!): @slut-lmao, @mishaglass

You couldn’t contain your happy screech when you opened the door.

When the four men who lived down the street had seen you decorating for Halloween (in August but that’s not important), it sparked a long overdue introduction that ended with you convincing them helping you with a few of the more unwieldy parts of your grand design. Soap got a kick out of the 12ft. skeleton, and Gaz only almost fell off your roof once while tying down the giant rope spiderweb. 

That had been months ago, and now, every now and then, they made sure to stop by to check in on you. The four of them seemed pretty bored, and you were a single woman all alone in that big house. Having someone to look at leaks in your radiators or nail down loose floorboards kept money in your party fund and you got four different flavors of hot men to look at. How was this not a win for you?

You had invited them all to checkout the “little get together” you were planning for Halloween night. If they didn’t have anything else to do, of course. Something told you they weren’t the kind of guys to stay in and hand out candy. You loved the look that they passed around to each other as you waited for their response, all side eyes and sly smirks.

Sure. Yes. Of course, love. They all chimed, Ghost’s oppressive silence speaking for itself. 

When the big night rolled around everything was perfect: your jack-o-lanterns were all lit, flickering candles inside them dancing in the night breeze, the lights the guys had helped you hang swayed in the empty branches of each of the trees in your front yard, even the moon played her part, hanging overhead shaped like a reaper’s scythe. 

Your various friends, coworkers and acquaintances all arrived as the night spun on. Everyone enjoyed the massive tub of purple punch you had prepared, the bubbling dry-ice cauldron really selling it. You provided a simple charcuterie board, and had told everyone to bring a themed snack to share if they wanted. The table filled quickly as everyone arrived. Various shaped and decorated cookies were popular. Your one coworker brought his “famous” deviled eggs and another brought in a plate of sliced apples and homemade caramel sauce. Otherwise, it was bring your own beer and the party was over at dawn.  

You lost track of time as you buzzed around, trying to have fun and host as best as possible. Midnight chiming on your grandfather clock made you realize that your four most anticipated guests had yet to arrive. You wouldn’t have faulted them if they just didn’t show. They were your friends, it wasn’t the end of the world. Wouldn’t have given them grief if they didn’t come in costume, either. Your brain just about exploded with joy when you answered the door to see all four of them, even Ghost, dolled up in their spooky best. 

Price was the first over the threshold, turning your open arms into a hug as he swept you inside. His pointy wizard hat was almost knocked off by the door frame, making you giggle as he set you down.

“I can’t believe you all dressed up!” you said, hands admiring the rather expensive looking high-collared robe he was wearing.

Soap was next, slipping around Price to pull you in for a hug. He smooshed your face into his flannel chest, chest partially exposed and very hairy. Whoever had done his makeup was a true effects talent. The extra hair on his face and neck was blended perfectly with his natural color and the pointy ears looked startlingly life-like. He even had a dab of dark paint under his nose to make it look like a dogs. When he smiled, flashing a double set of prominent canines, you couldn’t help but stare. 

“Wow!” you commented, petting his flannel because it was the most appropriate thing you could will yourself to touch. “You really went all out!”

Gaz’s hand on your shoulder made you jump before you realized it was him. He looked so different, probably the most changed of all the guys. He didn’t have any makeup, but his costume was impeccable. A black silk shirt with a loose black cravat around his neck, a rich red brocade vest that looked incredible against his skin, topped off with a black trench coat that you were pretty sure you had seen him in before. You threw yourself into his hug, squealing the whole time.

“I love your vampire costume! It’s my favorite!” you said excitedly, dancing on your toes as you did. You smiled at him as you stepped away, catching a glimpse of the set of long canines in his mouth as he replied with a simple, “thanks”. 

"Hear that?" you heard him whisper to Price. "Said 'm her favorite."

“And what are you supposed to be, love?” Price asked, looking down at you authoritatively, hands on his robed hips.

“Oh me?” you responded nervously. “I’m a witch!” you answered, looking around for your hat.

You must have taken it off when you went into the basement for more booze. The ceiling was pretty low down there, and you didn’t want to bring up any actual spiders with it. You felt a little disappointed, standing next to them in their amazing costumes while you had to sell your black and silver dress without your one accessory. 

“‘er y’ go,” Ghost said, arm reaching over the shoulders of the men around you to plop your wide, decorated black hat on your head. The tatters of his mummy wrappings caught on their clothes as he pulled his arm back. 

Price turned to make room for the man, letting him enjoy the full view of your sweet smile and nervous sway. This was the first time he’d ever talked directly to you. 

“Thanks, Ghost,” you said shyly. “I appreciate it.” 

There was something unnerving in his simple costume. It suited him, of course. Layers of dirty-linen colored gauze obscured most of his face, continuing down to wrap his whole body. Whomever Soap had found to do his makeup must have a friend in costume design, because you couldn’t find where a shirt or pants split to combine into one. The effect was near seamless. Even the tatters that streamed down his legs and off his arms didn’t look tacked on.

He had left both of his eyes exposed, too. His large brown irises and (you assumed) natural dark bags beneath them adding to his haggard, aged appearance. What made your stomach turn was how he had emphasized the few scars that crept out from behind the wrappings. You could see where each true scar ended in a bump of flesh, but the ends had been extended, made to look longer, wider, crueler. 

Maybe he wanted to look flayed beneath everything, you thought. It was Halloween after all.

[tame-the-lion-writes]

[price] see the world

There are times when you look at Price and dream. He could be doing nothing but grabbing a cup of coffee in the morning, or skimming through the pages of a book by the fireplace, and you'd imagine so much more. You're happy with life as-is, of course, but these little snapshots of life are cut apart and stringed together in your mind as part of a bigger picture. The idea that after he retires, you leave the city and buy a cottage--and maybe a truck that always has a tent stowed away in its bed.

You think he'd fit cabin life. You imagine how untrimmed his beard would get, because he's no longer stuck in a rigid routine; that he'd forget to cut it, and cast extra scratches on your cheek with unabashed kisses. You think of the smell of apples and cinnamon, because you love feeding your man--and book nooks by the front window, where you can see him chopping wood in the front yard. Wrapped up in flannel and comfy cotton that stretches across his broad shoulders, and the belly that keeps growing thanks to your cooking. You imagine tip-toeing barefoot on the wood floor that he's sanded down by hand to keep your skin smooth.

You also imagine he'd love camping. Sitting in the middle of the woods under dark skies and starlight, illuminated only by the fire. A hot cast iron pan over the flames, filled to the brim with cut steak and seasoned potatoes. Then crispy marshmallows, roasted gold; chocolate dribbling down his chin. Mixed in with the leftovers of dark honey whiskey. In the daze, you imagine curling up to him under a sleeping bag, nuzzling into the roughness of his jowls. The smell of dirt and pine and him--and waking up to crisp air and golden sunrise.

"You've been staring," he notes one day, looking up from his evening read as you draw your fingers through his hair. "Penny for your thoughts?"

"Mm," you hum, slipping over his strong thigh so you can perch yourself in his lap. "Too many to share."

A calloused hand steadies itself across your lower back out of instinct. Thick fingers curling over your hip. Firm pressure, yet gentle. Like the paw of a bear grown lax and padded with fat; ready for torpor. Ready for winter.

"I'll always have time for you, love. So tell me."

"Just wanna see the world with you, John. So many places to be."

So much of him to be with. So much of you you'd give.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

twst x zoff glasses collection (post 2)

***Please note:*** Sharing merch images + news is not intended to encourage and/or to pressure anyone into making purchases. It is up to the individual consumer to be informed and to choose how they spend their money.

Tumblr only has an image limit of 30 per post; you can see the first 4 dorms' glasses designs in this post.

This is a collection of 7 glasses frames, each themed after one of NRC's dormitories and all the same price (14400 yen).

Each pair of glasses comes with an original case and a cloth to wipe your lenses. The original case is the same for every design, but you will get a cloth with a design unique to the dorm you selected.

The Pomefiore glasses have poisoned apples (Epel) and crown-inspired engravings. There is an arrow motif (Rook) along the temples. The foiling includes Vil's dorm leader crown on one side and a heart with a knife stabbed through it (Vil's hair clip) on the other side.

Ignihyde's signature skulls are in the front. The temples have a futuristic design of a blue triangular pattern. The temples end with a flame, similar to the hair of the Shrouds.

There are bat wings (Lilia) near the temples' hinge ends. There are also thorny vines and lightning (Sebek) wrapping around the temples. A sword (Silver) is stamped on one side and a dragon (Malleus) is stamped on the other side.

[whitegoldtower]

My masterlist of Skyrim takes:

Both the Imperials and Stormcloaks can eat my ass.

Isran is a piece of shit

I don’t like Brynjolf.

Ancano, Vingalmo, Ondolemar, Garan Marethi, Teldryn Sero and Arch-Curate Vyrthur are the hottest male NPCs.

The companions are a flop.

Ysgramor and Wuuthrad suck.

Muiri’s unsolicited affections gave me the ick

Morthal is my favourite area.

The Ravencrone and Blackbriar women could get it any day.

I’d fuck a hagraven out of curiosity.

Frostbite spiders are adorable

I love Cicero’s voice.

Nazeem is just funny. So are the girls at Radiant Raiment. They all served cunt.

The Reach is for the Forsworn.

In every playthrough I make sure to beat the shit out of Rolff Stone-Fist and scare the fuck out of Mikael.

Mage and double dagger runs are the best.

Destruction and Conjuration are lazy.

My favourite discreet way to assassinate annoying NPCs is to reverse pickpocket poisons and poisoned apples into their inventories, sit back and watch. Alternatively, I like casting frenzy / reverse pickpocketing frenzy potions into their inventories and watching chaos unfold.

I have to purposely paralyse myself at least once in every playthrough, whether through licking Netch Jelly or chewing Corkbulb Root.

Idgrod Ravencrone is the best jarl.

Erikur deserves a slow death.

Delphine’s also a piece of shit.

Astrid instantly pissed me off.

I love just collecting and reading all the books.

The carriage driver Bjorlam (Whiterun) is SO HOT and for absolutely no reason whatsoever. Who made him so fine and why??

Ondolemar is a sweet baby. Even if you refuse to get the amulet for him, he doesn’t get pissy with you (unlike a certain touchy redheaded thief in Riften).

Some people get annoyed with Faendal showing up if you marry Camilla Valerius. I say two for the price of one, in this household we share. How can you be mad at getting a free bosmer femboy? A boyfriend of my wife’s is a boyfriend of mine.

(Will add more soon. If you want me to elaborate on any of these points, just drop an ask.)

[starrynights-sunnyskies]

as the flowers bloom, my heart does too ⋆*·ﾟmisa x putellas!femreader, social media au, (4/-)

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when your relationship ends and all you want to do is hide and cry, flowers suddenly start to appear on your doorstep.

or; misa hating to see a pretty girl cry and suffer and going out of her way to cheer her up while staying anonymous

fic: see my masterlist 🤍

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marisabel_rguez: Back to basics 🤩 Liked by alexiaputellas, ireneparedes4, yourusername and 18,837 others

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alexiaputellas 😇

ireneparedes4 She says while wearing an apple watch. ↳ mariona8co 😂 ↳ jennihermoso Don't forget the phone in her pocket that was going off every five minutes 🤣 ↳ marisabel_rguez What would we have done without maps? 🙆‍♀️ ↳ jennihermoso Walk around for familiar sites, but what would YOU have done without your lover texting you the entire time? ↳ mariona8co Probably turned into a whiny grump 😏 ↳ marisabel_rguez Not my lover. ↳ jennihermoso Booty call then? ↳ alexiaputellas Jajaja, go Misa! 😉

bff1 ohhh loving that lilac hoodie, think i've seen it somewhere before but in a green edition. can't remember where tho? ↳ yourusername on your wishlist, desperately waiting for the price to drop ↳ bff2 🤣 ↳ bff1 i deserved that 😂 ↳ username3 what are y'all doing here 👀

username1 misa or gandalf? ↳ username2 you shall not passss

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yourusername: getting back my spark 🙈 Liked by patri8guijarro, claudiaapina, marisabel_rguez and 1,349 others

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marialeonn16 Still my favourite Putellas! liked by yourusername ↳ alexiaputellas I'll remember that 🤨

bff2 There’s our favourite happy gal again!!! liked by yourusername

bff1 look at my strong bad ass (hot) bestie liked by yourusername

alexiaputellas You never really lost it, you've always lit up our lives 😘 liked by yourusername

ingridengen Missed that smile of yours. liked by yourusername

bff3 So happy to see you so happy again ❣️ liked by yourusername

username1 omg with the barca gang <3

albaps9 ☺️ ↳ yourusername 😊

marisabel_rguez ❤️ liked by 94 others

marisabel_rguez Happiness is looking so good on you! Can you share your secret with me? liked by 83 others ↳ yourusername no, but i'll give you a hint: you're hot on the source's trail already. liked by 56 others ↳ marisabel_rguez How hot? liked by 36 others ↳ yourusername so so so unbearably hot. practically burning. liked by 46 others

username2 Misa! 😯 ↳ username3 it's happening!!!! everybody stay calm!!! ↳ username2 YN'S REPLY!!?? ↳ username4 the u-haul truck is waiting in the deposit centre, should i go pick it up? ↳ username5 umm, YES??! 😂 ↳ username4 vroom vroom ↳ username2 they should get a room with these comments atp ↳ username3 it's a good day for the queers <3

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↳ 42min ago: yourusername just added to their story

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↳ 35min ago: marisabel_rguez just added to their story

jennihermoso Girl, where are you going? Airport's the other way 😂 marisabel_rguez Jaja, my flight leaves from El Prat in Barcelona tomorrow, no layovers that way 😌 jennihermoso Where are you going? marisabel_rguez 🇮🇹! jennihermoso Ooooh nice, with who? The not-lover?🙃 marisabel_rguez No! jennihermoso Because she's no longer the not-lover but the yes-lover? Seen jennihermoso 😂 Delivered

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↳ 56min ago: yourusername added to their story

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marisabel_rguez: Good days ahead 🔜❤️☀️🌴🌊😎 Liked by yourusername, sofie.svava, ivanaandres5 and 16,323 others

sofie.svava And you better go and enjoy it to the fullest!

yourusername wepa! (and i love your hoodie!) ↳ marisabel_rguez adidas, all in or nothing ↳ yourusername what a good brand representative you are! ↳ marisabel_rguez 😌 ↳ marisabel_rguez I can give you a friends discount! ↳ yourusername ...ouch! but dw, i have the same one! ↳ marisabel_rguez Great taste! 😉

haleyraso vacay time!! 🌞

alexiaputellas Amigaaa! 🤩

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↳ 11h ago: marisabel_rguez added to their story

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↳ 7h ago: yourusername added to their story

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↳ 1h ago: yourusername added to their story

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username1 okay, hear me out: yn was watching the men's national game against england on her story, a) when has she ever watched a game when ale or one of their friends weren't playing or it wasn't an important match? b) two cups on the table, c) the air forces on the carpet, which misa was wearing in her story this morning, d) they're BOTH hopping onto a plane on the SAME day??? username1 am i delusional or getting somewhere? 😭 username2 No you're not delusional, I screenshot Yn's comment on the tattoo post weeks ago right before she deleted it lmao username3 SHARE!! username1 i mean, the season's over so they are all on break and travelling somewhere username4 Yeah but they're usually going somewhere together. So if Misa's not on those pics with the others, we know where she's hiding, in putellas jr's arms 😂 username6 lmao I can't believe y'all did not see yn wearing the headphones in her latest story that was also in misa's story earlier today 🙃 username1 wait wait what lemme check- username3 gfs sharing things aka happy wife happy life username7 Okay sooo how popular is that brand exactly? You're all delulu. username4 Let us have this one 🤣😫

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yourusername: when the stars make you drool just like a pasta e fasule, that's amoreeee. 📍somewhere in italy. Liked by sakinakarchaoui, marisabel_rguez, victoriapelova and 2,489 others

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marialeonn16 You and your pasta 😛 ↳ yourusername what can i say? i like saucy seasoned carbs

bff1 i see you picked up that hoodie after all ↳ yourusername thought it should go back to its original owner 😌

username1 how rude of you to not tag misa 😭 liked by yourusername

bff2 Girlieeee, yessss! Happy days are finally here 😘🌤 ↳ yourusername i love you!!

albaps9 when were you going to tell me you met a hot italian?? is this how i had to find out you got some action? now i know why you wanted another solo trip 👀 ↳ yourusername weren't you the one to tell me not to bother you with lovey-dovey stuff so long as you're single? so, SHUT UP. ↳ albaps9 omg ew, i don't like you sassing me, mini-me 😫 ↳ alexiaputellas What goes around...! ↳ yourusername I learned from the best tho!!! ↳ albaps9 🥹

bff3 Did you go to that gelato place I told you about? ↳ yourusername YES! THANK YOU.

sofiacantoree Hope Italy treated you well! 😊 liked by yourusername

juliagrosso7 Omg no way, I wish I had known 😢 ↳ yourusername rain check? i'm definitely coming back. ↳ juliagrosso7 Yes, please!

alexiaputellas I hope you didn't fall asleep while sunbathing again, tomato! ↳ yourusername ONCE! it happened only once ): ↳ alexiaputellas Besos from mama and stay safe 😘 ↳ yourusername tell her i love and miss her ↳ alexiaputellas She knows ❤️

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marisabel_rguez: Relax mode ON 😊☀️ Liked by leilaouahabi, alexiaputellas, bff1 and 17,843 others

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alexiaputellas Enjoy 🤩

username2 🧐 ↳ username3 👀 ↳ username4 🕵️‍♀️ ↳ username2 yea this is not coincidental at all, they don't care anymore, or ever have 🤣 ↳ username2 soft launch? ↳ username3 at least now we know she's not with the other girlies on team vacay lol ↳ username4 Thought we were passed that stage already 🙂 ↳ username2 no real photos yet so no, we're not

mariona8co Who took the photosssss?????? ↳ jennihermoso Yeah, spill the beans MISA !! ↳ ireneparedes4 Her not-lover jajajaja ↳ mariona8co 🤣😭 ↳ jennihermoso Jajaja ↳ alexiaputellas She must be special if she ditched us for her! 😜

leilaouahabi Have fun 😉

sofie.svava aaaah have so much fun!! you two deserve this 👯‍♀️

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Direct Messages

albaps9 hello maria isabel. albaps9 tell me, does my sister still hog all the bedsheets while she's sleeping? albaps9 and while i'm at it, tell her i'll kill her if she scratches my sunglasses albaps9 and you, if you hurt her in any way. accidental or not. vale? Seen

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a/n have a lovely weekend everyone🌻