#I will say like…. having some time and money for the first time in life

[towasdandelion]

Texting Jabberwock and Frostheim ghouls "If I get arrested you're my one phone call"

Something silly for today (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠) (before we dive into some angsty angst)

At first Ren throws his usual "okay" but then he rereads and he's actually very concerned? Just what the hell is happening if you're saying stuff like that? His head is instantly filled with weird scenarios of him having to help you "clean up" after whatever you did. How annoying! (Notice how he's concerned more about the work that comes with it rather that your supposed crime? Yeah that's Ren for you) At least you can still count on him!

Towa is not happy at all! What do you mean one phone call? Arrested? He's confused. Who is daring enough to try taking you away from him? He'll make them regret. If you don't want to experience a sudden downpour and thunder that will make everyone pray for their lives then you better explain what's really going on... It might take a while to reassure him but he will understand in the end, more or less. Well, at least you know he's got your back no matter what! (I feel like he would defend you even if you did something bad so..)

Haru's eyes widen when he reads your message. Did his sunshine get into trouble? Just how bad is it? Before you can explain what's going on he's already abandoning his work and gathering his stuff, ready to go wherever you need him. With that being said, he does breath a sigh of relief when he finds out you were simply testing his reaction. He'd hate it if something bad happened and he wasn't there to help you. I guess it doesn't even matter if you're the one at fault or not..

Tohma lets out a sigh, silently hoping you're not actually being serious. Though unfortunately he's already used to your... "talent" of getting in trouble. Well at least he knows how to stay calm. That's the experience speaking! You just wanted to see his reaction hm? Good, then he won't have to deal with a new batch of work. What work you might ask? He won't hold back from anything when it comes to helping you out. You can be sure of that.

Jin is always ready for whatever you might want to throw at him I'm pretty sure (as long as it can be solved with money) so he won't waste time asking unnecessary questions. Just tell him whatever is going on later, he needs to know that you're safe first! Oh you were just joking? Well too bad cause he wasn't. He actually demands you to come to him first before acting. Will support whatever you want or come up with something even better. So be careful, okay? Just saying.

Kaito is on a verge of passing out. He had his fair share of "interesting experiences" so his mind is filled with scenarios of what possibly happened! And right now when he got you to be his girlfriend? Life is so unfair! Anyways, don't expect him to just wail, he would actually help no questions asked, even if it meant risking going to jail with you. You were just seeing his reaction? Oh thank God. He already has your whole wedding planned in his head and he's glad it is going to happen after all. (Hint hint katio you gotta pop the question first)

Luca is the sweetest ever, always. He will literally never judge you even if he personally disagrees with something. Are you in distress? Do you need to talk? He's right there for you! He'd rather have you talk to him first instead of jumping into action without thinking. He's calm and collected too. Whatever it is he will help and make sure you're okay. Oh, it's just a reaction test hm? Well, it doesn't change anything. Everything he said and did was sincere.

[lemmesayimyourbiggestfan]

could you write anything about the salesman 🙏?

game on - the salesman

the salesman x reader

word count: 1,6k

warnings: slapping, kinda fluffy

requests are open!

The first time he approaches you, it’s in the way a cat might approach a bird it doesn’t quite plan on eating - slow, casual, with an air of amusement that immediately sets your teeth on edge. He wears the kind of suit that makes you feel underdressed even in your best clothes, and he carries a briefcase like he’s heading to a boardroom, not a grimy subway platform. There’s a flicker in his expression as he stops in front of you, standing just close enough to invade your personal space without actually crossing the line.

“You look like someone who could use a little luck,” he says, and while the words should sound sleazy - or at least suspicious - they aren’t. He says them lightly, warmly, with the faintest arch to one brow that suggests he already knows how you’ll answer.

“I look like someone who could use about five hours of sleep and a new life,” you reply, not bothering to look up from your phone for too long.

“Do you have a moment?”

You eye him, wary. “Depends. Are you selling religion or real estate?”

“Neither,” he replies, entirely unbothered by your tone. “Just a game.”

He opens the slim black briefcase he’s holding and turns it toward you. Inside sit two brightly colored paper tiles - one red, one blue - square, folded, thick. Beneath them lies a stack of cash, neatly bound and far too real to be fake. He takes out the tiles and lays them on a nearby bench with the same reverence one might use arranging chess pieces.

“You throw your tile to try and flip mine over. If you do, you win 100,000 won.”

You look from the tiles to his calm, unreadable face. “And if I don’t?”

“If you don’t have the money to pay me back,” he says pleasantly, “you get slapped.”

You blink. “Seriously?”

He nods once. “Very.”

You should walk away. You should tell him to go screw himself, report him, ignore him, something. But your job sucks, your apartment leaks, your life feels like a long hallway with no doors, and there’s something deeply, darkly tempting about the way he watches you - like he’s offering more than just a game.

And maybe you’ve had a long enough week to welcome a little chaos.

So you say, “Fine. Blue.”

He smiles. “A bold choice.”

He places the red tile down first and steps back. You crouch, take aim, and throw.

It hits with a satisfying crack, but his tile barely shifts.

He nods at you. “Looks like I win this round.”

You stare at him. “You’re not seriously going to—?”

“I’m afraid I am.”

And before you can move, his hand comes up fast and practiced and lands with a slap so precise, so clean, that you’re more stunned than pained. You stagger half a step back, cheek stinging, blinking at him.

He raises his eyebrows slightly. “You okay?”

You wheeze. “What the hell?”

He tilts his head. “Still breathing?”

“Barely.” You press a hand to your face. “Christ, do you practice that?”

“Only on weekends.” He gestures to the tiles. “Again?”

You lick your teeth. Nod.

The next round, you win.

He counts out the cash and hands it to you without hesitation.

You tuck the crisp bills into your pocket, the subtle weight of the money feeling almost surreal against your fingertips. The sting on your cheek has dulled to a faint warmth, but the adrenaline humming through your veins refuses to settle. He watches you with that same sharp, unreadable gaze, the corner of his mouth twitching in amusement as if he’s been waiting for this exact moment.

“Not bad,” he says, folding his tiles slowly, fingers deliberately precise, like he’s performing some private ritual. “You’ve got a decent arm. Could be dangerous.”

You glance up, eyebrow raised. “Dangerous? What, to you?”

He lets out a breath that’s almost a chuckle but not quite. “Maybe. Or just to anyone who’s not careful.”

You smirk. “So, you’re warning me. That I should watch my back.”

“More like your face,” he replies, voice low, eyes flicking to yours for just a second longer than necessary. You start to reply, but notice his fingers drifting toward his pocket, a business card half-emerging - then stopping, like he thinks better of it.

Your brows furrow but he only gives you another one of his spotless smiles and says: “See you around,” as he walks away, leaving you standing in the middle of the platform.

***

Weeks slide by, each meeting at the station folding into the next like the careful creases of his folded ddakji tiles. The game remains unchanged on the surface: you pick your tile, throw, win or lose, and occasionally, when the odds aren’t in your favor, you receive the sharp but measured slap - the same one that had startled you the first time, now a strange and familiar punctuation to your encounters.

But beneath the predictable rhythm, something imperceptible begins to stir.

You notice it first in the way he lingers a fraction longer after a slap, his hand dropping slowly, fingers flexing as if recalling the sting left on your skin rather than the impact he delivered. His eyes, usually so steady and unreadable, flicker just a moment toward your face, as if searching for traces of hurt that you hide behind a teasing grin.

Once, as you brush away a stray lock of hair from your cheek, his gaze tightens briefly, subtle enough to miss unless you’re looking for it - and perhaps, even then, it feels more like a flicker of something unnamed than guilt outright.

You make a joke about it one day, the banter light but edged with truth.

“Hey,” you say, catching him as he folds his tiles with that familiar precision, “you look like you’re nursing a conscience. Slapping people can’t be easy.”

He chuckles, smooth and low, and meets your eyes with a half-smile that doesn’t quite reach them. “I’m a professional. It’s part of the job description.”

“Right,” you say, amusement sparkling in your tone. “Because everyone dreams of a career that involves slapping strangers.”

He shrugs, but there’s a softness now in the way his shoulders relax, a quiet vulnerability you hadn’t seen before. “Some jobs come with unexpected responsibilities.”

The teasing persists between you, effortless and warm, the kind of repartee that dances on the edges of something more intimate. His barbs are sharper, your comebacks quicker, and beneath the surface, the line between game and real connection blurs.

One damp evening, as the sky threatens rain and the station hums with its usual noise, he surprises you. Instead of setting out the ddakji tiles or opening the briefcase, he folds his hands on his lap and looks at you with something close to hesitation.

“You ever drink coffee?” he asks, voice casual but weighted.

You blink. “Yeah. Why?”

He shrugs, but his gaze holds steady. “There’s a place nearby. Quiet. Maybe we could… go there.”

You blink again, caught off guard by the sudden shift. The game, the slaps, the teasing - all of it had felt safe in its own reckless way, but this? This was a different kind of risk. Your mouth opens slightly, then closes, and you hesitate a moment longer, then let that corner of your mouth tilt up, a spark of mischief returning. “Sounds like a dangerous idea.”

He leans back, that easy smile reappearing - one that feels more genuine, less guarded. “Dangerous suits you.”

You both laugh, the sound folding between you like a promise. As the first drops of rain begin to fall outside the station, you realize you’re not quite sure if you’re stepping into a coffee shop or something far more unpredictable. But somehow, for once, that feels exactly right.

You stand, pulling your jacket tighter around you, and he follows suit, briefcase tucked neatly under one arm. Walking side by side into the damp evening, the city noise fades into the background, leaving just the quiet buzz of a new game - one neither of you quite knows how to play yet.

***

The coffee shop is small, tucked into a quiet corner of the city where the hum of traffic softens to a distant murmur. Inside, the scent of roasted beans and warm pastries wraps around you like a familiar coat, the kind you didn’t know you were missing until you felt it. The low chatter of a handful of patrons and the clink of cups create a cozy backdrop that feels a world away from the stark brightness of the subway platform.

He takes a seat across from you, folding his hands on the table with a practiced calm that belies the faint tension you detect beneath the surface. His eyes catch yours over the rim of his cup, the usual mask slipping just enough to reveal something quieter, more vulnerable.

“So,” he says, voice easy but with a weight you can’t quite place, “how does it feel… to play for something other than money or a slap?”

You consider, tracing the rim of your mug with a finger. “Honestly? A little terrifying. But also… kind of refreshing.”

He nods slowly, as if that answers a question only he had been asking himself. “I thought you might say that.”

The conversation drifts easily after that, punctuated by small smiles and the occasional sharp tease. There’s an unspoken acknowledgment between you now - that this is no longer just a game of tiles and luck, but something altogether more complicated, more real.

As the rain taps softly against the window, you catch his gaze lingering on your face, the hint of guilt from before replaced by something warmer, more deliberate. When your hand brushes against the table, his fingers inch closer, barely touching and you see the silent promise in his eyes.

Game on.

[riemanifests]

Who gives a fuck about the 3d?

maybe right now in the 3d your sp doesn't like you, maybe you have no money and you really want tickets to a concert, or maybe you want to pass a class and your teacher has told you that you're failing. okay and? i don't give a fuck. i don't care what your circumstances are your circumstances don't mean shit. you need to get it ingrained in your brain that the past does not mean shit you are in the now right now you are not experiencing the past so why the fuck are you still holding onto it especially when it's something you don't want? why the fuck are you letting something that ALREADY happened define the present moment, and even worse you're letting it define your future which hasn't happened yet. you need to let go of the fucking past because it's not helping you, right? it's not a past you want to keep identifying with right? you clearly don't want that story anymore so let. it. go. seriously, your circumstances don't mean shit at all. the 3d doesn't mean shit. so what if your circumstances are terrible? so what if you have plenty? so what if everyone is telling you shit? i dont care because YOU are the god of your reality, meaning you can change it. you need to get some fucking audacity and start seeing yourself as the one running this show, because you are. right now i'm an actor in your movie watching you ( the director ) run around crying, not knowing what tf they're doing, and complaining about how the script sucks and the scenes suck... yet you can change the plot.. and we're all watching you like wtf are you doing? because wtf are YOU doing? you RUN this show, start acting like it omg! 1. The 3d is not permanent your circumstances are not permanent. but you're making a big deal out of them, you're constantly reaffirming them by worrying about them, and you're acting like oh shit the world is over now it's going to be this way forever. that is just so ignorant first off life changes and moves all of the damn time, nothing is permanent, each moment passes and everything is temporary. this isnt to say you cant make certain things "permanent" in a sense like a long-term relationship or a job but again you can wake up one day and say yk what i dont want this anymore, and boom it would be gone. you have a choice. 2. Wake the fuck up and realize you control the image the 3d doesn't move or work on its own. it conforms to you. all of the sudden because you're seeing something you don't like the 3d has free will? it has more power than you? nope, stop it! you are in control of your reality. get the FUCK up, wake up, and stop acting like a little victim crying about your life. take matters into your own hands! 3. Have some audacity have the audacity to be like yk what fuck this, this isnt the way it's gonna be. i have what i want now and it's done, period. you need to start being stubborn because why are you hesitating? why are you conforming to reality when it's supposed to be the other way around? why are you fucking changing your story every 2 seconds JUST because of the 3d? again you need to see yourself as above the 3d and start taking control. 4. Literally everything is possible you choose the outcome for any situation. like EVERY damn reality, version of you and others, and possibility exist, oh but no because the 3d showed you one you think it's done now and now you're stuck to that one little possibility. um i'm sorry what would God say? god would be like the fuck i dont want this, nope i have this outcome instead and that's it. decide you have the outcome you want and stick to that decision, reality must change to reflect that new decision. you are not tied to any one possibility because all of them exist within you. stop deluding yourself by thinking the 3d is the end of it all, every single thing and possibility exist within you so get tf up and see that. anyways tumblr is being a bitch and character limiting me so bye.

[rosenclaws]

Replacement || Logan Howlett x Reader

summary: Being with Logan is a dream but when the girl who is basically his daughter seems to hate you, it makes things pretty difficult.

warnings: angst, arguments, fluff, comfort, jubilee is kinda mean, a little suggestive at the end.

a/n: okay so idk if i like how this turned out but ive been on a wolverine jubilee kick so fuck it. I live for dad Logan and I just needed more

Logan liked to say he didn't care about anything. He didn't care about the team he would protect with his life or the kids that made him smile. All he cared about was beer and cigars. But everyone could see he was a liar. Deep down the man cared a lot about this little life he had created. Whether he wants to admit it or not the X-Men were very important to him.

Especially Jubilee. She was a young mutant who was quite literally a firecracker. The explosive powers that came from her fingertips were flashy and fun but were not to be taken lightly. Ever since they met they shared a special bond. He had become somewhat of a mentor to her.

For a long time she was the only one who he held that special spot for. Until you came along. Or that's what people would tell you anyways. You thought it was absolutely adorable. To see that soft side of Logan it's what made you fall in love with him, among other things.

You met him while he was away from the mansion. Logan had gone off alone again. The mansion life is nice but sometimes it became too overwhelming. So he hopped on his bike and left. Leaving only a letter to explain where he went. He drove for a while until he had to stop for gas. That's where he met you.

You worked at some 24 hour diner near by and man were you as sweet as the pie you served. You were kind and funny and you made Logan feel like more than just a mutant or an X-Men. He loves them he really does but they know what he is. They don't have any high expectations for the man. But you, you thought he was everything. Handsome, sweet, a little mysterious. He found himself stuck to this town. He got onto his bike but he just couldn't leave.

Back in New York he felt suffocated sometimes but you made it easy to breathe. You built a small life for a while. He helped around and did odd jobs for money while you let him stay with you. He kissed you a week after moving to that town and he knew once his lips touched yours he could never go back.

Eventually he got a message from Charles. They needed him. So he asked you to come with him. It was a big ask but fuck, you loved the man and he loved you.

So you packed up everything and followed him to New York. You and Logan were happy, really happy. There's just one problem. Jubilee seems to hate your guts. He had told you about the mansion and the people in it. His friends. You couldn't wait to meet them all.

When you first arrived Jubilee was the first person to greet the two of you. She jumped into Logan's arms, talking animatedly about all that he missed. Then she saw you and she went quiet, asking who you were in a not so friendly tone. Your nerves went haywire as she stared. She wasn't outright mean but it was clear she wasn't happy you're here. Soon the others arrived and they were nice but you couldn't shake that stomach twisting feeling.

At first you thought she was just wary of you because you were new. You understood the kind of life a lot of these kids had before finding peace at the mansion. So you tried to introduce yourself but she blew you off. It hurt a little but you didn't take it personally. She is a teenager after all. But then you started dating Logan and things took a turn for the worse. She was always interrupting or doing something to drive the two of you apart.

Like one night you and Logan were in the kitchen. He had you leaning against the wall, trapped by his very fit body. He leaned in for a kiss and suddenly a bright spark flew right in between you. You jumped apart and saw Jubilee giggling by the door. Stuff like that would happen a lot. Or she would call for Logan's help whenever the two of you got time alone. If you asked he would tell her no but you always told him it was okay.

You didn't want to make Jubilee more upset or come between them. At first you thought these were all just silly pranks or bad timing but as they kept happening it became incredibly obvious she was doing this on purpose. You just wanted her to like you, or at least not hate you. The strained relationship between you and her was starting to effect your relationship and you wish it didn't.

"Hey Jubilee can we talk?" You asked nervously as you saw the girl sitting in the living room.

"I was wondering if maybe you wanted to go to the movies this weekend? There's this cheesy action comedy movie out that I thought you'd like." She looks up at you and just shrugs.

"No thanks."

"Oh that's okay, maybe another time?" You say, slightly disappointed that another attempt at getting to know her failed.

"Yeah maybe never." She mumbles under her breath.

You try not to get frustrated. She's just a kid. She doesn't have to like you. But you want to make things right, apologize even if you don't know what you did wrong.

"Jubilee, I know you don't like me and I just want to know what I can do to fix it." You tell her. You're desperate at this point.

"It's nothing. Just leave me alone." She rolls her eyes and you feel another wave of annoyance hit you.

"Please, I'm really trying. We don't have to be best friends but you're important to Logan and so am I so we just-"

Jubilee stands up, her face twisting into anger as she interrupts you.

"God can't you take a hint? I don't want to know you. You came into our home and you walk around like you own the fucking place!" She shouts.

"I didn't mean to I'm sorry." You try and apologize but she doesn't listen.

"We don't need you here. We're a family and you're just an outsider." Her fingertips start to tingle as her powers start to spark.

"Just do us all a favor and leave!" A blast comes from her fingers aimed right at you.

You shield your face and brace for the pain, but it never comes. You open your eyes to see Logan standing in front of you. He took the full force, his shirt burned through but his skin was already healing.

"You alright?" He asks and you nod wordlessly.

"Jubilee!" He growls. She looks guilty, she didn't mean to do that.

"I..." She starts but her voice fades.

"Go. I'll deal with you later." She looks to you, opening her mouth but doesn't say anything.

She just takes off outside. Running far away without another word. Logan is furious. He's noticed her acting out lately but he just thought it was typical teenage bullshit. But this is more than that.

"I don't know what the hell has gotten into her." He turns back to you. It's clear as day what you have to do. She'll never accept you being here.

"I think I should go."

"If you need space I can meet you in our room later." He reaches out but you step back, shaking your head.

"No I mean I should leave. Leave the mansion." Logan furrows his brows in confusion.

"What? Why?" You almost laugh at that.

"Clearly I'm not wanted here. So it's just better if we go our separate ways alright?" It's breaking your damn heart to say this. You don't want to leave but maybe Jubilee is right. You are an outsider. You aren't like them.

"She hates me Logan. She almost blasted my face off."

"It was an accident, she'd never hurt an innocent person." Logan says and you just sigh. You're not mad he's defending her. He's in an impossible situation.

"I love you Logan but this is your home. This is your family. Jubilee is your family. I just don't think I fit here."

"Don't go, don't run from me." Logan grabs your wrist gently, his eyes pleading for you to stay.

"I can't lose you." He whispers. It almost makes you stay. Almost.

But you think about everything. What you've put up with and the possible future. If you stay Logan and Jubilee will grow apart because of you. That girl is like his daughter. She needs him. She's just a kid. You lean in and kiss his cheek, a sad look on your face as you slip your wrist out of his grip. His hand falls to his side limply. You turn your back and walk towards your room.

"I'm sorry Logan." You whisper but you know he can hear you. It's too much, it's just better this way.

Jubilee really didn't mean to let her powers get out of control like that. She wouldn't ever hurt you like that on purpose. Her outburst...it's complicated. She sits on the grass with her knees against her chest. She watches the wind blow the dandelions back and forth. She knows she's in the wrong but she can't seem to admit it. She's protecting her life, her family. She hears footsteps approach and she braces for the scolding of a lifetime.

It's Logan. She doesn't even have to turn around to know. His shadow covers her from the sun as he gets closer. He walks around until he's right in front of her. She stares at his boots, refusing to look up at him.

"You wanna tell me what that was about?"

"It was an accident." She mumbles softly. Guilt clawing inside of her.

"I know it was, but I heard what you said." Logan knows there's something eating at her, he just doesn't know what. Or how to fix it. But enough is enough. He sits down in front of her, crossing his legs he leans back.

"I can sit out here all day Jubs, you need to talk to me." Logan tilts his head as Jubilee starts to pick at the grass. Fuck.

"I'd never hurt them, I was just so angry and I..."

"Angry bout what?" Logan pushes. He can see the gears turning in her head. He knows the most how difficult it can be to open up, to dig deep into the anger. It's easy to be angry but it's harder to understand why.

For the first time Jubilee looks up at Logan, expecting an angry pissed off look he reserves for when he's really mad. But instead it's soft. It's concern and worry. Tears well up in her eyes as she finally has to face the truth. It's always been unspoken between them. Just how much they mean to each other.

Logan wasn't a sappy emotional man and Jubilee was an outgoing teenager who liked to pretend her past didn't hurt as much as it did.

"I was scared." She whispers, tucking her legs closer to her body.

"Scared of what?" Logan asks.

"Scared that you were going to be taken away from me." She admits. Logan was the father figure she never had. She was special to him. He was softer with her, kinder. She could ask for almost anything and he'd cave even if he complained the whole time. She trusted him with her life. So seeing someone else seemingly fill that role hurt. She was jealous and scared and upset. So she lashed out, believing that if she could drive you away then everything would go back to normal.

"You left me Logan." She remembers how hurt she was when he left. Not even a goodbye just some lousy note.

She waited for him to come back, acting like she wasn't affected by his disappearance but she was. So when he finally did come home she was so happy. But then she saw you and realized he wasn't alone.

"The X-men are my family but...you mean a lot to me Logan and when you came back you brought someone new and I was afraid that meant you were going to forget about me." She buries her face into her knees.

It was so childish but she couldn't help it. She missed Logan and now someone new came along and stole him away. Were you the reason he was gone for so long? The resentment just built and built.

"Hey, look at me." Logan says softly. He gently grabs her face and tilts her head up.

Jubilee means more to him than she'll ever know. The protective nature he feels over her can really only be described as paternal. He won't admit it but she is like his daughter. Man look at him, he never thought he'd have this life. That he'd have a family. But he does and you know, it's pretty damn great.

"I could never replace you kid, ever." He wipes away a tear and sits next to her. He wraps an arm around her and she leans against his shoulder.

"You mean a lot to me too. Even if you're annoying and loud and make me watch stupid internet videos." She giggles and Logan smiles.

"Were you happy? When you went away." She asks and Logan nods.

"Yeah I was, but that doesn't mean I didn't miss you too kid." A wave of guilt crashes over Jubilee as she thinks about all the things she'd done to lash out. You were nice, really nice and she couldn't even give you a chance. She was so wrapped up in her own feelings she didn't even care how happy you made Logan.

"I feel so stupid, god I really messed up didn't I." Jubilee groans as she looks at Logan.

"Yeah, you did kid. But it's nothing an apology and effort can't fix." Logan says, though he's not completely convinced. Jubilee studies his face for a moment before getting up and running back to the mansion without another word.

"Hey! Where are you going?!" Logan calls after her but she ignores him. She has to make this right.

You're almost all packed when the door bursts open.

"Logan please don't make this harder than it has to be," You beg as you turn around, expecting the man you love to be standing there. To your surprise it's Jubilee. She's slightly out of breath as she leans against the door.

"Man I need to get back in the danger room." She huffs. She spots your clothes folded in a suitcase and starts to panic.

"Are you leaving?"

"Don't worry, I'll be out of your life soon." You tell her.

"No!" She blurts out which takes you by surprise.

"I'm sorry. I'm really really sorry. I was afraid and jealous and I took it out on you and I'm sorry." She apologizes. Afraid that she went too far, that she was going to drive away someone who made Logan happy.

"I felt replaced and I got bitter and I just wanted Logan back but I really fucked up."

"Thank you, for the apology Jubilee," You say gently.

"I really appreciate it, but maybe it's for the best that I leave." You're not sure what to do now.

"I'd never try to replace you. Logan needs you more than he needs me." You say and she frowns.

"That's not true. I lashed out because I was afraid I'd lose him and I didn't mean anything I said. You make him so happy. You're so kind to all of us. You don't judge us. Please don't punish him for my mistakes." This was a big moment for Jubilee.

To take this kind of responsibility and be so vulnerable to someone she doesn't really know. But it's her way to trying to show you she means it.

"I..." You hesitate.

"Let me make this right. We can go to that movie if it's still on the table?" She pleads and man her puppy dog eyes really are magic. No wonder Logan can never say no.

"Okay. I'll stay."

"Thank you!" She reaches out to hug you but stops, realizing you might not be her biggest fan right now. But you open your arms and welcome her into a hug.

"I want you to know that I could never replace you. Logan will always have a special place in his heart for you that no one can ever touch." You tell her. She hugs you a little tighter. You look up and see Logan leaning against the door.

"No fireworks this time?" Logan says, his voice gentle.

"Not this time." You reply.

Jubilee pulls away and walks over to Logan. Hugging him too. He grunts and pretends to be annoyed but he wraps his arms around her tight.

"Don't think you aren't in trouble for earlier by the way." He whispers in her ear and she sheepishly laughs.

"Go down to the lab. I'm sure Hank has plenty of work for you to do allll week." She groans and stomps off to the lab, mumbling under her breath.

"I heard that!" Logan yells and she turns to stick her tongue out at him.

"Teenagers." He says with a roll of his eyes.

"You are such a dad." You say with a laugh. He smiles just hearing that sound.

"You still leaving?" He asks and you shake your head.

"No. I'm not."

"Good." Logan grabs your waist and pulls you into a heated kiss. You tug at his shirt and groan when he nips at your bottom lip.

"Looks like we finally have some real alone time." He hums as he kicks the door closed.

"Yeah we do, I think you owe me a date night." Logan just grins.

"I'll buy you dinner but how about we skip to the good part right now."

[jester-nonconforming]

at first i was like “oh, i wish the short showed Blitz and Loona interacting more,” but the more i think about it, the more i feel like them *not* interacting informs us about their relationship. they had all this time while Mr. Wrigglers was saying goodbye to everyone, but Loona is on her phone and Blitz is just sitting around bored. Blitz really *wants* to hang out with her, and he spends a lot of his daily life around her, but he seemingly still has no idea how to actually *engage*.

and this is a problem in all of Blitz’s relationships—he doesn’t feel secure enough to just ask people to spend time with him, so he either makes everything sexual (which he obviously wouldn’t do with Loona) or he focuses on what he can give them (money for their jobs, driving them places, cooking them food, protecting them from harm, etc). he’s gotten better about focusing less on sex as he becomes a bit more secure in his friendships w/ Stolas, M&M, and Fizz, but he still really relies on that other coping mechanism of “here let me do these things for you and in return you won’t leave when i talk about horses for an hour”.

so in a case like this, where he IS just trying to reach out to Loona (which is a lot more vulnerable for him than i think he’d admit) and the plans change in any way, he falters. he’s completely stuck on his original idea for the day and he can’t get out of that mindset enough to listen to what she wants here.

it’s not that i think he doesn’t notice other people’s interests or wants or needs—he definitely does, at least when he’s not clouded by jealousy or other emotions—i think he just does not know how to have a conversation that isn’t focused on himself. and i don’t mean that in an asshole way, i mean it in a “ADHD kid who never learned how to communicate” way. that’s why his relationship with Moxxie works in some ways, because Moxxie and Blitz are both people who will just talk about their interests without prompting (and yes this is a very neurodivergent type of friendship lol). and with Millie he can talk about their shared interests, or just play games, because him and Millie are both more physical people. and with Stolas, Blitz can be the center of attention and Stolas *prefers* it that way. but with Loona being closed off, he just doesn’t really know how to reach her?

he also tends to be really invasive with his friends (again, he’s getting better at it, but still), but he really tries to give her privacy. at least, we’ve never seen him go into her room or ask what she’s doing on her phone. which is a VERY good thing that probably allows her to feel way more comfortable around him. but it doesn’t give him a lot to work with, and i don’t think he realizes that he could just ask her questions about her interests, or would even know where to start (honestly, idk if i would either, that’s a hard thing to do when someone isn’t giving you much to work with).

and all this doesn’t mean Blitz and Loona’s relationship is “bad” or that they don’t love each other. in fact, I think Loona being comfortable with just existing in the same space as Blitz, rolling her eyes at his antics, finding him kind of annoying and embarrassing but trusting that he’ll always be there and relying on him—that’s all pretty typical “teenager with her father” behavior, and despite being an adult, Loona is still working through a lot of teenage experiences. she might have seen Mr. Wrigglers as an idealized dream father figure, but even he couldn’t live up to that standard in the end. her relationship with Blitz reminds me a lot more of how i was with my parents when i was younger, tbh.

but for all the criticism people tend to give to Stolas and Via’s relationship… there’s actually a decent amount of evidence that, when Via isn’t mad at him, those two are better at just hanging out with each other? Stolas obviously misses the mark sometimes as she gets older, but every picture of them from the past shows them both grinning and clearly actively engaging with each other. he focuses on interests they have in common (like telling her about space, or giving her a guitar to further her interest in music), and Via is a lot more receptive to that (which i’m sure is partially because she grew up around those things).

i’m curious to see if Stolas being more quiet and patient will allow Loona to open up more. the short makes it clear she *wants* to open up at this point, and that’s definitely because of the time and effort Blitz has put in over the past 5 years. but after being unsafe for so long and then closed off for even longer, i don’t think she knows *how* to open up, or when is appropriate (because showing your demon form to a random human was a pretty impulsive and unwise decision. again, a rather teenage one). i think it would be cool to see how as much as Blitz can teach Stolas about reaching out to Via, Stolas might be able to teach Blitz some things about connecting with Loona as well.

[mastercherry]

Okay, this is weird because I'm typing it out on my computer and not on the app on my phone so bare with me. Bear? Bare. Right?

Anyways, okay, so. GHOAP. Ghost x Soap. Soap x Ghost. Simon x Johnny. Riley x MacTavish. McTavish? I'm sorry, y'all. I just don't know and don't want to leave this screen to check. My bad. I really haven't gone to Tumblr on my computer is YEARS. I honestly forget you could even do that.

But back to my Ghoap prompt. It's an AU where basically everyone is some type of animal shifter. You got your main categories of canine, feline, Ursidae (bears), avian (birds). Each main category has their own hierarchies and such. Like, in the canine category there are a lot of domestic types of dog breeds and then there's the wolves. Felines have domestics and big cats. ETC. You see what I'm saying?

Then you got the Avian group. They're very- no. Okay, the old families, the top of the hierarchy, those old money type of people are very, "We're better than you and we know it." They are very strict on tradition, on species. They basically hate all other types of shifters, and each group don't even like other types of birds. So, like, birds of prey don't really like other "lower" types of birds.

ANYWAYS, there's time to go over the different species and all that jazz later in another post. How does this relate to Ghost and Soap? Why am I even bringing this up?

Here. It. Is.

Simon "Ghost" Riley is a bird of prey. He comes from a long line of very powerful eagles (I Googled the deadliest bird of prey and got back the crowned eagle). Here's the problem. He can't shift into an eagle like his father or his brother. His mother, rest her soul, was a songbird, a Nightingale (Google again). (Also, I'm saying his mom was his dad's second wife. His first wife was another eagle like him, so Simon's brother is purebred.) So Simon is a "half-breed" according to his father. And the fact that he couldn't shift into an eagle was another hit. Here's the thing though, he CAN shift. Into a raptor.

Oh yeah, like the dinosaur. Forget about science. We're suspending and bending the rules. See, it's a very rare and very, very special gift to shift into a raptor. It's believed to be a sign that he's a protector. He's meant for great things. All this amazing and cosmic rhetoric. He should be praised and raised above them all. But his dad doesn't want such an awesome gift to be on his half-breed son. When his mom dies, his dad with the help of his brother and his dad's eagle family, basically make Simon feel like he's a monster. That he's something bad and something that shouldn't exist. They really beat him down and so he grows up forgetting the warmth that his mother tried to share with him. He hates his shift and really just hates his life.

He joins the military and keeps his shift under wraps. He manages to avoid it most of the time, only a small handful of people know about his true form. Laswell and Price are the only ones in the group.

Along comes Soap, who is not a bird at all. He's a dog/wolf hybrid. His mom is a wolf and his dad is like a German Shepherd or Malamute or something.

Oh dang, this has gotten way longer then I meant it to. But long story short, Soap and Ghost get close. At some point Soap gets hurt and needs to be rescued and Ghost ends up revealing his true shifted form to the team and terrifies the bad guys. meanwhile, Soap is awestruck. Gaz (a hawk I think), is starry-eyed too because how cool is it that he knows a an actual raptor? And Price (a bear, probably a brown bear) is just proud of his team.

oh, and should Ghost have a beautiful singing voice from his mom? I think so. ANYWAYS. Sorry for the long post. I could go on for days about this.

[unity24675]

From Lonely to Unity in a Week

Monday Zach was walking down the street to a local fast food place as he did every day. Zach was a bit of a loner. He was a gamer, smoked weed, and was constantly between jobs. On his walk down the street, there was a new advertisement at the bus stop. "Find Purpose, Join Unity". Unity? Zach had never heard of it. Must be movers or something based on the coveralls. Zach shrugged and kept on with his day.

Tuesday Zach was heading down his block when he saw a young man struggling to pedal his bike. That's rough, thought Zach to himself, not even slowing down. Then he saw a guy in a jumpsuit or something run up to the kid. He started helping with his bike. On the front of the coveralls was the word UNITY. Unity again? Zach furrowed his brow but kept on his way.

Wednesday Another day and another guy in those blue coveralls. This time he was powerwashing some graffiti that had been up for months. Bought time the city did something. That graffiti's an eyesore! Zach was a little confused why it wasn't a city worker, but another one of these Unity guys. Must be some new contract. At least my tax dollars are going somewhere. Zach considered saying "Thanks", but the guy probably wouldn't be able to hear over the powerwasher.

Thursday Today Zach walked back from getting fast food, his drink cup in hand. He was looking for a place to toss it, and sometimes when no one was looking he would just drop it on the street. But today he saw one of those Unity guys picking up trash. Man, those guys are everywhere. At least this one's here when I need him. Zach approached the guy with his cup, "Hey, can I throw this out?" The man in uniform smiled, took the cup, and replied "Of course, friend! I love keeping our town clean." Zach couldn't help but return a smile and said "Thanks, uh, Unity dude."

Friday Today Zach saw two Unity guys. They were walking the opposite way of him, their strides in tandem like they were soliders on a march. "Hello there friend!" one called out. His covealls had the number 5558 on the front. Zach had wondered what those numbers were all about. "Um, hi. Are you guys with Unity? What's that all about?" Zach asked. To his surprise, the two men talked openly and at length about Unity and order and discipline and clarity. Zach didn't understand it all or why they wore numbers on their coveralls, but he had admit some parts sounded pretty cool. Spending time with brothers, having a purpose. Plus the uniforms are kind cool, in a futuristic kind of way.

Saturday Out again, Zach was surprised to see a new place opened up across from the fast good place. It was a Unity Center. No wonder I've seen so many of those guys! Their home base was opening up. Zach paused for a moment before heading inside. Maybe I can see where they get those jumpsuits. And what's up with those numbers! Little did Zach know he was taking the first step into a new life. Inside the Unity Center, he was welcomed with open arms, even seeing some of the same brothers he saw throughout the week. Turns out they had an open recruitment seminar starting in a few minutes. Well they have refreshments, so I can save money on lunch. Man, these guys are really nice! Zach found a seat in the hall with about a dozen other guys.

Sunday 36805 enjoyed a stroll down the street as he headed to his assignment for the day. He was going to a local game store to help organize a gaming tournament. He had realized he was playing too many video games, but he knew a lot of young men who enjoyed them still. So with the help of his Unity brothers, 36905 figured he could help some of these men connect and form bonds. As walked he smiled and waved at the many brothers who had joined him at the seminar yesterday. "Hail Unity!" he called out as he passed his brothers. Funny how different this street seems now, and how I finally feel like I am a part of it.

[conron]

android! wolf x reader

hello all don’t be surprised. i literally just got bored and scrawled this drabble on the first doc i saw. no shared burns because i hate EVERYONE (joke)

tags: android wolf!, female reader, first meetings, this is so stuoid, 1.4k words wasted on this, oc is your friend, you’re like a college student about, so sorry yall, not getting another chapter unless someone begs me or i give in lol

androids were okay.

you don’t need an android and you weren’t all that interested in them. you were impartial to androids, they were okay but you preferred doing most things by yourself others than chatgpt for school assignments.

you were going to college and had moved into a decent apartment. it was okay, not in a terrible area and had enough space for you to live alone.

your friend was an idiot who spent her money haphazardly. giggling as she made idiotic financial decisions that she’d regret maybe a day later and come crying to you about.

when your birthday rolled around in your first year of college, you had complained that you don’t have enough time to indulge in any hobbies. it was something you vaguely wanted but simply did not have the will or funds to do it.

what was wrong with a little bed rotting anyway?

it was basically all you did….

you friend listened with a helpful ear as you lounged around in your apartment. her lips smirking as she randomly asked about your love life right after.

“ha. you’re funny.”

was your only response as you waved around a nonchalant hand. dismissing the question entirely. but surprised that your friend didn’t push further. usually she’d beg you to get a boyfriend so she can complain about hers.

but you didn’t care. you had better things to do than worry about some guy you have to care about the feelings of. what if a guy crossed your boundaries? do you just suck it up?

absolutely not.

so no, you don’t care about a boyfriend.

you weren’t lonely, you didn’t need anyone.

but when you returned home from class, you were greeted with your friend in your apartment. you’d given her a spare key in case anything happened to you but you were seriously starting to regret it now. there was a big fat smile on her face as she gestured to the man next to her.

no fucking way.

“happy birthday!”

“what the fuck is that.”

“Hello, I am a KS500 model.”

oh.

absolutely not.

your friend immediately shot forward to grab your shoulders to stop you from leaving. the android was standing in the middle of your living room, it’s face bored.

that’s all you cared to look at before you turned your doorknob. your friend whining behind you and trying to stop your hand.

“just give it a chance!”

“dude- RETURN IT.”

“I am a limited edition model that cannot be returned.”

the robotic voice rings out in the living room. the voice deadpan and monotone. your jaw drops as your friend grins and thanks the android politely.

it’s quiet.

before long, your friend has left with a smile. cake on your kitchen counter. and a kiss to your cheek as she waves goodbye.

“have fun with it! i heard it has special features.”

before you can whack her over the head with your textbook, she closes your door with a cackle.

well.

you turned from where you were standing with a sigh. taking a moment to really look at the android that’s apparently yours now.

it hasn’t talked since it helpfully informed you that it could not be returned.

it stood taller than you, it’s broad shoulders spread. it was slim like how most androids were, jawline pronounced. eyes stared at you, emotionless and light grey. fair skinned in the low afternoon sun from your window.

it’s hair looked… oddly long. not like the male androids you were used to. it seemed fluffy. sticking out everywhere. a dark brunette coming from it’s roots.

it was…

handsome.

that was odd to say.

it was definitely the look of someone who you’d hit on and it made you embarrassed right when you thought that. damn your friend for knowing you so well.. slowly, you walk in front of the android. examining it’s cyber life given uniform, the blue pulsating on the fabric. it’s model KS500 flashing every so often.

it was a button up with a jacket on top. a blue armband on it as it has it’s sleeves rolled up. it wore dark slacks and black running shoes.

it stares back at you.

easy.

not real.

unalive.

this is gonna take some getting used to.

“um… hi…?”

“Hello.”

it’s voice was deep and monotone. she’s heard androids speak before and they usually sounded a bit robotic. but usually polite and kind, easy to talk to if you really had to. but this one was clipped, a little gruff.

great, it doesn’t even like talking. is this how it was with your personal android? like talking to a wall?

“what’s your uh…. function?”

it cocks it’s head at you. the blue ring on the side of it’s head flashing yellow as you assume its trying to process your question. it’s eyes twitching before it speaks again.

“I am to serve you however you seem fit. I can spar, remind you of appointments, and do household chores.”

you stare and admire it’s weirdly handsome face. thick black eyebrows. eyes sharp like a wolf’s. it’s canine’s a little sharp.

you think whoever made this model had a type.

“I am also at your disposal as a sexual partne-“

you clap a hand over it’s mouth before it can keep going, extremely humiliated by it’s words. it can’t be serious.

right?

…

(you can’t believe your friend thinks your lack of a sex life is so concerning that you need a glorified male prostitute.)

apparently you slapped your hand over it so hard, it’s fair skin turned to a platinum white. your jaw drops for the second time in the past hour as you rip your hand away. gasping as you reach and cup it’s cheeks in your hands.

“i’m so sorry! are you okay?!”

you lean up on your tiptoes to look at the damage. before the white disappears and fades back into that fair skin tone. your hands grasping probably a mixture of plastic and silicone.

there’s a weirdly warm hand wrapping around your wrist as your eyes slowly look up at it. it’s eyes staring down at you from under it’s oddly long eyelashes.

oh.

it leans it’s face down so your noses almost touch. something hot crawls up the back of your neck as it spreads across your cheek. you’re too close and you can see it’s eyes flicker with something other than robotic nonchalance.

akin to amusement.

“You’ll have to try harder than that to hurt me.”

oh my god.

you jump away like a frightened animal and immediately cover your face. was that it’s coding?! who codes an android to respond like that?!

oh god.

your face flushes as you look back at it. a small smirk on it’s face before it smooths over and it’s back to a normal robot. shit, you already forgot it’s not a living being.

willing to not embarrass yourself even more, you stand back up straight and sigh. rubbing the back of your neck as it stares at you. it’s hands in it’s pockets.

fucking bastard…

“do you have a name?”

“Your friend didn’t register me with one.”

damn it.

what is he? a baby?

this is not her child man….

“aaahhh… what do you even name an android….”

it doesn’t reply. you’re glad it doesn’t answer everything you say like some people’s androids do. he must have specific programming. no wonder it’s limited edition.

from under her eyelashes, she stares at the- her… her android.

it stares back at her. indifferent to her dilemma.

goddamn it.

“wolf.”

you say exasperated with a dismissive hand. this is too much thinking and you have an 8am tomorrow. you need to do your homework and cook dinner.

turning your back to your android, you start to head to your room. it’s voice calls out from behind you. a little offended in your opinion.

“Excuse me?”

“did you not hear me right? your name is wolf now.”

you turn your head to see it blinking and twitching his eyes.

“Registering ‘Wolf’… to Cyberlife’s database…”

he emphasizes the name with a certain attitude. something that reminded you of sarcasm.

ugh.

what a dick.

you didn’t know androids were even built with a feature like that but you guess only you have the luck of your own android giving you lip.

whatever!!!

not your issue!!!

you friend probably made the store set him on the ‘asshole’ and ‘sarcastic’ setting.

and there it started.

your college life with a dickhead android newly named Wolf.

[thewritingsofvan]

From Writer To Concubine (WIP)

I don't know if I'm ever going to finish this, so I've decided to post what I've written so far. My first MoShang fic!

Summary: In which Shang Qinghua is forced to wear drag by demon scammers.

Honestly, when Shang Qinghua realized he had been reborn into a fictional world, he was excited. There wasn’t much to do as a newborn baby, so he spent his time wondering what kind of world he had been born into. Maybe it was one of those sci-fi fantasy mashups where cultivators rode mecha-swords and had robot servants? That… didn’t seem likely. Perhaps he had been born the son of a powerful and wealthy emperor? Nope. Definitely not. His parents wore plain-looking robes and often talked about how little profit their shop was making. Either way, he had hoped that whatever world he had been transported to at least allowed him to live comfortably. He did, for a bit; he had an easy enough childhood, (although he very quickly learned that some shady business practices were the only thing keeping his parent’s shop afloat.) and life in his small village was decent. Until a very fateful day. Shang Qinghua had just turned 14 when his parents were having their usual talk about his future. “Don’t you want him to take over the shop?” His mother asked. “He can do better than that, our son is smart.” His father may have sounded proud, but Shang Qinghua knew that this was some sort of scheme he was putting on. “Isn’t that right?” His father patted his back, “You’ll get a good job so you can take care of your poor old parents.” There it was. When it came to his father it was always about money and profit. Shang Qinghua shrugged, giving a fake smile. “Of course I will!” He wouldn’t. Obviously he wouldn’t let his parents die or fall horribly ill, but he hated the idea of having his father leech off whatever success he managed to scrounge up. “Ah, that reminds me.” His father suddenly said. “Cang Qiong sect is accepting new disciples.” Shang Qinghua froze. Okay, maybe he should’ve expected this. He was named Shang Qinghua for goodness sake! But he had assumed it was a coincidence, that name could easily be a common one in this world! He laughed nervously. “I don’t think I’m smart enough for such a prestigious sect-” “Huh? What did you say? We’ll visit tomorrow.” His father said, shutting down any further conversation. That day, Shang Qinghua realized he had been born into his own gimmicky stallion novel.

      ⬥

Or maybe not…? Shang Qinghua was now an outer disciple of An Ding peak, and he had spent every single day dreading his inevitable meeting with Mobei Jun. Except, it hadn’t happened yet. Surely it was supposed to happen by now? He never specified an exact age that the OG Shang Qinghua had met and began working for Mobei Jun, but he was now an adult and he had not seen hide nor hair of the ice demon. As he loaded up a wagon with heavy crates he felt some hope swell in his chest. This must be an alternative version of PIDW where Shang Qinghua never meets Mobei Jun and gets to live out his days doing boring yet mildly fulfilling work at An Ding! He thought. He lifted another crate from the pile the other disciples had left for him. They were probably at some inn drinking again. 

“Lazy bastards.” He mumbled under his breath. They might want to slack off, but he had things to do back home! He thought about the new novel he had bought with his meager savings. It was a new one from an author he quite enjoyed. Due to the novel’s… uh.. content however, he wasn’t able to bring it on this mission. He sighed, wiping his forehead with the back of his arm as he debated whether to take a break or finish loading up the last few crates. 

“Excuse me, young miss…” A voice trawled behind him. Miss…? He turned around, but before he could see the owner of the strange voice, he was out cold. 

“....wh…… mean?....”

“.....left?!...” 

“What do you mean you lost the concubine?!!” 

Shang Qinghua was roused from his sleep by a frankly whiny sounding voice. He tried to gather his bearings. He was somewhere dark, his arms and legs bound. He could also feel that some sort of rag had been shoved into his mouth. The voices outside sounded close. 

“It wasn’t my fault! How was I supposed to know she could pick locks?!” This voice was much closer to him than the other one. 

“Elder Frost Tooth is going to have our heads for this.” A third, alluring voice hissed. 

“Don’t worry! I found a replacement!”

There was some shuffling before Shang Qinghua was blinded by a bright light. When his eyes adjusted, he realized that he was in a wooden cage with three demons standing outside of it. He recognized the fox-headed demon standing closest to him as the owner of the strange voice, the one who knocked him out. A second darker-colored fox demon stood further away, peeking out from behind a tall humanoid demon covered in scales. That one must’ve been the leader, he deduced. Said demon leaned forward, squinting at Shang Qinghua. 

“That’s a man.” They said with barely repressed rage. 

“It is?!” The fox demon squeaked, scrambling around to look into the cage. The scaled demon then grabbed the fox demon by the ear, dragging him close. They whispered something to him and he squeaked out a response Shang Qinghua couldn’t hear. All three demons began speaking in hushed whispers, seemingly arguing about something. He took this time to plan his escape route. He didn’t have his sword with him, but the restraints felt loose enough to wiggle out of. 

The demons suddenly broke apart from their huddle, interrupting his wiggling. 

“W-we can work with this..” The darker fox demon wrung his hands nervously, “Great master Silver Scale is quite accomplished with makeup after all.” 

The scaled demon made a thoughtful, haughty noise. “That is true.” If Shang Qinghua could’ve let out an exacerbated sigh, he would’ve. The arrogant, lofty types always annoyed him. So much so that he barely registered what the demons were talking about until the lighter fox demon giggled devilishly. 

“Don’t worry young master, we’ll turn you into the most beautiful mistress!” 

Wait, what? 

Shang Qinghua’s muffled protests went unheard as the demons dragged him out of the cage towards a fancy-looking chest overflowing with finery. 

And so, Great Master Airplane was dressed in demon drag. Expensive jewels weighed on his neck and he could barely walk in the long dress he had been forced into. The demons had even painted some blue scales on his face. They were currently trudging through snow towards some sort of large building. The surroundings looked familiar, but he couldn’t figure out exactly where he remembered them from. As they reached the front of the building he noticed that it was actually some sort of palace. 

Ice… Palace..? 

Oh no. 

Shang Qinghua made a run for it. There was no way he was about to walk into Mobei Jun’s palace dressed like a sultry temptress! Fate was not kind to him, however, as his feet slipped on a patch of ice. The scaled demon hoisted him up by his arm. 

“Where are you going, sister?” They hissed and a nearby group of demons gave the two of them a confused look. “Uh, she’s just nervous.” They assured the demons with a forced smile. 

That smile dropped as they turned back to Shang Qinghua. “Don’t mess this up for us, or I’ll spill your guts.” he flinched as they growled into his ear.  

The palace was practically overflowing with demons carrying fine foods and exotic riches. It must’ve been some sort of tribute day. He had remembered writing about something similar in PIDW: a day where demons from all over had showered Luo Binghe in jewels, weapons, and more importantly, beautiful women. Unfortunately for Shang Qinghua, he was not a beautiful woman. 

“Won’t the Mobei Jun kill us once he finds out our concubine is a man?” The lighter fox demon whispered to Silver Scale as he glanced around nervously. 

“That’s why we’ll take the dowry and be gone long before he finds out.” They then turned their gaze towards Shang Qinghua, a sly smirk on their face. “Quite unfortunate for you.” 

Fuck you, Silver Scale. I hope your tail falls off and never grows back! Shang Qinghua silently cussed out the demon. 

They were approaching the front of the line when Shang Qinghua paused. Mobei Jun was more breath-taking than Shang Qinghua could’ve ever imagined. He lounged on his throne, handsome face propped up by a strong arm. He looked bored as he accepted gift after gift. Before he knew it, Shang Qinghua’s group was at the front. Silver Scale gave him one last glare before pushing him into a bow. 

“Your Highness,” They greeted, “Our gift is most divine: a concubine to add to your harem.”

Mobei Jun has a harem? Shang Qinghua felt a pang of some bad feeling. 

Silver Scale continued, “She is of the finest bloodline the Northern Skink clan has to offer. Sure to produce only the finest heirs.” 

Talking about me like I’m a broodmare, how dare you! I created this world! Shang Qinghua’s internal tantrum prevented him from seeing the slight interest Mobei Jun showed as he leaned slightly forward. 

“However, she does not come without a price; Our clan requests a small dowry.” Silver Scale finished their spiel, the room feeling icily tense as everyone awaited Mobei Jun’s answer. 

This is where he kills us all for asking him to pay for a gift. Shang Qinghua began silently praying. Maybe next time he’d end up in a world that he didn’t write. 

“I accept.” Mobei Jun said. 

What? …What?!

[crepesuzette2023]

I'm a bit puzzled about the tags you wrote about Mike McCartney and Tara Browne. Could you elaborate? 👀

Dear Anon, With pleasure! The tag #Mike/Tara the tattoo of my soul (I believe it was) refers to the idea Paul wasn't the McCartney brother canoodling with Tara—Mike was. The little brother, who had more freedom, relentless curiosity, and a raw talent for weirdness. And he was so strangely handsome, too!

How likely is this? I don't know. But consider this: Tara took Mike to Paris, asked him to share a bed, and introduced him to his mother and her Magrittes. (I'm starting to think "show him your Magrittes" is code for something! Just kidding.)

Here is Mike, describing the trip in his memoir. This is on the long side, so it goes under the cut.

Note: "that's what Vadim was on about" refers to Roger Vadim, Bardot's husband, who drew women with fish heads for Mike at a party where both were bored with the real women. Only later, Mike said, did he realize that the drawings were references to a recurring theme of Magritte's. PARIS II (ca. 1965)

From “The Macs: Mike McCartney’s Family Album” by Mike McCartney (1981)

The second time I went to Paris was at the request of young Tara Browne. Tara was a Guinness heir (and a right honourable one at that). I was a Beatle brother, so we had mop and hop tops in common (or should I say commons, as Tara's Dad was in the House of Lords).

Being two gay young blades, one with too much money, the other with not a lot of sense, we believed in living life to the swingin' London full, but when Tara suggested we go to Paris for a week or so, I had to admit to him that I wasn't that well off.

'Oh, don't worry Mike . .. I'll pay the difference.’ 

Being of stubborn, Liverpool working-class stock, with great Northern pride, I readily agreed (vive la difference), and as my passport was in the Pool and I was in Tara's Eaton Row Mews house, a provisional passport was arranged and we were on the next flight to gay Paree.

At the airport to meet us was a chauffeur with the most extraordinary Mercedes I'd ever seen. It was so long it looked as if a bit had been stuck in the middle. This magnificent creature (and the Merc) floated us to Boulevard Suchet in the posh Trocadero part of Paris, where we disembarked into the wrought iron lift which zoomed us slowly to the roof garden apartment.

Tara's mum, the Lady Oranmore and Browne was in the south of France, so Tara showed me round the Magritte-littered lounge (this was the first time I'd seen a Magritte 'live' -so that's what Vadim was on about . . . not at all fishy, but very tasty) and up to the bedrooms.

'Shall we share bedrooms?' he asked.

'Oops!' I thought. We didn't know each other that well, and here is a gay young titled gentleman asking me to go to bed with him.

'D'you mind if we have separate bedrooms . . . I snore.'

'Not at all, see you downstairs in half an hour.'

I needn't have bothered. Tara was as straight as a dye; he was just being courteous.

After a shower, I dried off in head-to-toe towels, had a lie down, (the champagne on the plane was mainly to blame), and we met downstairs in the more than comfortable lounge (with a telly in the bookcase ... disguised as books!).

'Right! Show me Paris . . . I missed it last time as I was feeling a little gay.'

Tara showed me Paree all right; the chauffeur-driven Merc took us to La Coupole for a drink and a bump into Vidal Sassoon, then to a beautiful little restaurant called La Petite Bedon where I had my first sparrow in red wine (I think they called it quail but whatever it was, it was excellent). The pot-bellied chef even came to our table, he didn't do anything . . . just came to our table. And then on to the gay Paris nightclubs, where some ale was supped, eventually ending up at Castell's . . . the club of the day.

Here we were checked in by a beautiful, cool Paris lady, who spoke not a soupspoon of English.

'I fancy that,' I overstated to Tara.

'That's our Letty, it's good to know her.'

'Letty,' dictated I as a mental note, as we descended the Castellian stairs to debauchery. We were posing in the middle of our whisky and Cokes when through the dark, staggered the Yardbirds. As soon as they saw me they chirped in perfect unison 'Today's Monday, today's Monday, Monday's washing day, is everybody 'appy? You betcha life we are' (Scaffold's first resounding, but popular flop).

It's lovely being loved, but Tara and I were there for the serious purpose of enjoying ourselves, so we opened the Castell cage door, sent them flying, and continued with our night-time revelry alongside beautiful, black and white, pencil thin models, and me popping upstairs to let Letty in on the fact that my intentions were entirely honourable.

Just as dawn was breaking (or was it Françoise) we swayed gently out of the 'in' club and across to the restaurant opposite, where we nearly got in a fight over our chilli con carne (because I hadn't clicked with Letty at the nightclub . . . if the truth were known).

As we emerged to the even chillier French morning, as if by magic the limo drew up and we fell in. He'd been waiting all night! Being working class and drunk (what could be worse!), I gave the chauffeur hell for not joining us in the night club.

All at once, in the early Parisian morning light, we were faced with a strange predicament. The limousine was suddenly surrounded by thousands of French cyclists on their way to work . .. all facing us.

Either we were in a one-way street or they were cycling backwards.

Whatever, it was a stalemate, and we all stopped.

The gruff garlic comments from yer actual working-class Frenchies could be felt through the Mercedes skin. I put myself in their position:

I've been up all night after drinking pastis, with the petite monstre-baby. . . shouting above the Pierre Douglas Show, the wife nags at me over coffee and France Soir . . . I climb on me cold velo bike . . . cycle through the freezing five o'clock rain ... join my thousands of Parisian rat-pack colleagues...and there in the middle of the narrow City rue is a long black car going the wrong way, containing two young, drunk, mop-top goldfish (not only that . . . it's a bosch car).

Let's just say that if we were in the middle of a revolution and there was a Bastille nearby, they would have simply said 'Off wiz les cochons 'eads,' before carrying on to work.

Luckily, one of my many disguises is as the Scarlet Pimpernel and indicating a secret side-street escape route to the chauffeur, we avoided the hoard of Robespierrean Rats and headed for the safety of our Magrittien mansion (zey seek us here, zey seek us zere, zose damp froggies seek us everywhere).

More power-packed Parisian nights followed with the inevitable falling in love with me by Letty and many torrid nights of 'love' were enjoyed by all. In contrast to 'being in love' with Celia, here was a woman who taught me how to make love with more positions than an Indian Yoga teacher would dare to attempt, and all in French!

Tara's mum, Lady Oranmore and Browne, paid us a visit in the middle of these 'sumestas' and after my customary Butler-served fresh orange juice I felt slightly apprehensive about my first meeting with the upper crust lady matriarch (particularly with a bit of French fluff in the bedroom)!

Once again, I needn't have worried. "Oonagh' turned out to be one of the warmest, coolest, quick-witted, most subtle women I'd ever met, and she made us both most welcome. She was a lady, but not just the lady in the title. A real lady. I call her Mum', she calls me Dad, and we shall remain friends till the end.

[anna-scribbles]

h-how do you ever finish any of your work? genuine question because you seem to be productive despite your agreste syndrome and I need to learn your ways. but also how do you ever finish any of your work

unclear. last night i stayed up and finished a report worth 25% of my grade at about 5am, arrived on time for my 9am lecture, and spent about half of it zoned out while thinking about seventeen year old emilie agreste. and i was one of the most active participants in the class discussion

[evilmagician430]

mabeline/jonah wolf in my 2020s timeskip au! read my tags for more information about her

[stresskidz]

Apparently the new ig reel trend in kpop is "Just buy that ticket"

🤢🤢🤢

[gu6chan]

oh yeah!!!! forgot to mention this is my last day at work :') honestly the pay wasn't the greatest (not complaing though, this is a public position and it was certainly enough to get by) but ngl this was probably one of the most enjoyable jobs ive had 😭❤️ for a ridiculously conservative population like this im glad they seemed to enjoy the numerous marxist solutions to all their problems getting slid in under the reasoning of "community/small town values" and "neighbours having each other's back" and 5 minute small talk about how taxes work at the line in the grocery store lmao

[apolohgy]

hello beautifuls, i got a job offer last week in [redacted] and i’m so grateful and excited to be… making money again! and to finally have my own place and fix it up to my taste and get 2 cats 🥹 there’s a job in [redacted] w the same exact salary range and i’m really hoping i get it bc it’s a much more desirable hot girl walkable city. my final interview for that job is next wednesday send hot girl city job offer vibes my way pls

[thebluebygracieabrams]

so tired of being a shitty bandaid for my parents' loneliness. like have u ever considered you passed your curse to me and some days i feel so lonely it's like i can't breathe around the emptiness in my chest????