#It would be fucked up if any of those happened

[dear-ao3]

by popular request: how to write an email

a disclaimer that this is the specific kind of email you send when people are absolutely smiting you and you know a phone call or an in person meeting is not possible/will not help. like youre 12 emails deep in an email chain and going in circles. youve been re routed to 13 offices 4 separate times. those kind of emails.

credentials: ive taken something like 13 semesters of college (dont ask) and every single semester have had to fight at least 3 offices for varying reasons in order to take classes. (including one time where i was shorted 5k in financial aid. i ended up getting 200 more dollars than i needed in the end) also my dad taught me everything he knows about emails (hes a tradesman turned corporate man and most of his job consists of telling people (nicely) that what theyre doing sucks and makes absolutely no sense)

Step 1: figure out who the email needs to go go

there is nothing wrong with emailing 11 million people if it gets the job done. if someone isnt helping you and you Know that they Should Be feel free to start to copy their boss on the email. copy your boss on an email. (or advisor or whoever). even if you think the person might only be like Vaguely helpful, sometimes people know people.

also theres nothing wrong with emailing the same email to several departments. sometimes you have to make a lot of noise to get something done (again. as like a last resort. dont email 11 million people right out of the gate)

Step 2: remember to be Polite

a very tempting step to ignore especially when you are 13 thousand emails deep in problems. but! if you are not nice to them! they will probably continue to smite you in the future! you want to make friends! not foes! so no matter how much people are smiting you, try to resist the urge to be an utter dipshit because it will not get the job done. vent to a friend or a coworker and send your polite and nice email

Step 3: articulate the problem Clearly.

a very important step. especially if you are adding more people to your email chain. dont assume they know your exact problem. they probably are dealing with other problems. articulate Clearly what is happening, no matter how long the email may be. its far better to get a long and detailed email rather than a non helpful short one. that will only prolong the process of how long it takes the problem to get solved.

Step 4: cite your reciepts.

wildly important. send your screenshots your attachments your whatever the fucking fuck youve got. its always good to have a paper trail. this is also where you would state any previously attempts to have the problem Sorted (ie i reached out to x person on x y and z days about x problem and it is still not resolved). you would not believe how many people dont scroll down in an email, especially a forwarded/replied one. so summarize whats Down There in your most recent email

Step 5: use the appropriate lingo

you dont have to be Overly Formal but there are a few good Buzz Sentences that usually get the job done. for example:

As Per My Last Email: a great line. emphasizes that youve already mentioned this. and this is not the first time youre mentioning this point. also emphasizes that the Thing has yet to be solved

See Attached/See Below: under utilized. again. people do not open attachments and they do not scroll down. almost had a friend once fail a class because a professor gas lit them in an email chain saying they didnt receive the final paper when the paper itself was attached earlier in the email chain. be Painfully Literal. it pays off.

Help Me To Understand: this is one of my dad's favorite lines. it really shows that you have no fucking idea what the person youre emailing is getting at and youre offering them the opportunity to spell out their nonsense for you. so that you can then be like. well. clearly This is where the miscommunication lies. its a great line. has saved my ass many times. because it is not accusing it is just offering someone to understand. it does not attack. it just is.

Step 6: give a polite sign off.

something along the lines of "thank you in advance for any help" or "i look forward to hearing from you" does the job. something that sends the message you are not pissed to shit at them even if you are.

Step 7: follow up and follow up often.

polite email response time is 48 business hours/2 business days. if it has been longer than that you have every right to email back and say hi x person just following up on this email, have you had the chance to review it yet? again. keep it polite. you actually want them to help you. and if they still dont respond well then maybe its time to loop in a boss or a supervisor or whoever the hell else. dont be afraid to go above them if you need to. nothing wrong with getting shit done when it needs to get done.

and really, if all that fails, as my dad says, a little office bribe in the form of cookies has never hurt anyone :)

so an email. should be formatted something like this:

Greetings/Good Morning (Afternoon) (Person)

I hope this email finds you well (or something similar for a greeting). I am reaching out regarding X incident/problem/whatever the fuck it is. I have previously reached out to X person on X dates and (summary of whatever they did or didnt do). See below/attached emails/pdf/screenshot/document (if applicable)

(explanation of the problem in as simple and detailed terms as possible. have someone re read it to make sure that it cannot be misconstrued)

(explanation of what you are looking for as a solution)

Please help me to understand why this (solution) has not been able to be reached. (explain you are on x timeline if the situation is urgent)

Kind regards/Thank you for any help in advance/I look forward to hearing from you etc,

email signature

go forth and conquer your emails. remember, sometimes you have to be a squeaky wheel. and in my million cases of email sending, it has ALWAYS paid off and i have gotten the problems solved. dont be afraid of the emails they can help you.

[lordprettyflackotara]

what a heavenly way to die || the proxies

‘forever is in your eyes, but forever ain’t half the time’

sum: after being stranded in the middle of a snow storm, you’re forced to take shelter with masky, hoodie, and toby. you need to stay warm, by any means necessary

tw:SMUT, FILTHY, LONG, AGGRESSIVE SMUT, foursome kinda? idk?, sub!reader, soft dom!masky, hard dom!hoodie, sub!toby, gun play, overstimulation, exhibitionism, lowkey throat fucking, praise, humiliation, power dynamics lowkey do be in place

a/n: FOR ALL OF MY OG HITCHHIKER BABIES <3

“But I don’t wanna wear gloves!”

“Toby if you don’t wear gloves, your fingers are gonna fall off.”

Masky’s voice was hoarse, his patience thinning the longer he walked. Not even a fresh cigarette could make this situation any better. Only some shit like this would happen to him.

On the way back from an assignment the car ran out of gas, courtesy of allowing Hoodie to drive for more than five minutes. Now with the tank on E, the four of you were stranded in the middle of no where. Snow fell from the sky, coating each of you more and more by the second. Hoodie seemed perfectly content with his offense, minus the occasional shiver. Toby couldn’t comprehend the need to wear so many layers, the kid practically fighting for the right to freeze to death. Masky found himself silently regretting his choice of a mask, his gaze landing on you.

Normally he discounted your presence, you being the newest member of the group. But he’d be lying to himself if he shrugged you off. Although you had only been around for a few years now, for such a tiny little thing you sure pulled your weight. He never thought much of you at first, your small stature and loud mouth telling him everything he could ever want to know. But over the years of enslavement together you simmered down, sometimes more quiet than Hoodie. Masky could deal with his silence, having been dragged into this shit show by his hand.

But you? He couldn’t handle it.

His dark gaze landed on you, looming over your shaking form like a dark cloud. You always wore skimpy clothing, even if not practical. This happened to be one of those times, your skirt riding up your thighs and knee high socks failing to conceal the goosebumps that littered your skin. “Cold, kid?” Masky asked, ignoring his own shaky fingertips as he took a drag of his cigarette. The four of you had been hiking for what felt like hours, more and more of your limbs becoming numb by the second. “T-Told ya life wasn’t a f-fashion show,” Toby chimed in, clearly enjoying the weather.

“Can it, you ticking time bomb,” Masky interjected, frowning. He noted the way you avoided his gaze, as if you were afraid of judgment. But why? You had never given a shit about his opinion before. He grunted to himself as he shrugged off his signature mustard jacket, forcefully shoving it on your shoulders.

“But you’ll freeze-”

“Put it on and don’t bitch about it.”

His voice was stern and full of authority, threatening you to question it. His mask hid his satisfied expression as he watched you put it on. “Any plans here boss? Or do we plan on camping out here?” Hoodie asked sarcastically. It was in moments like these Masky was thankful the two of them wore mask, his distain written all over his face. “We just need to keep heading south like boss ordered,” Masky huffed, blowing cigarette smoke out into the cold night air. Tensions were arising quickly, the freezing cold fizzling out any trust that had been formed.

“Head south? Are you on crack or delusional? Toby’s fingers are so frost bitten they’re about to snap off and the kid is so fuckin cold i’m surprised she’s able to stand at all,” Hoodie barked, his words laced with venom. Masky didn’t like to go off schedule. He didn’t like to piss off The Operator. If it were him and him alone, he’d continue walking south until he either made it or The Operator himself found him. However, as his eyes raked in the sight of his companions, he realized Hoodie was right.

“Fine, we’ll have a sleepover. Follow me. I saw smoke over this way,” Masky agreed reluctantly, tossing his cigarette bud carelessly onto the ground. Toby began to yap about Masky being a litter bug, earning him a knock upside the head from Hoodie. The silent proxy gritted his teeth, annoyed with Masky neglecting to tend to them sooner.

“You saw signs of civilization and just now told us? How long would you have let us walk before we fuckin froze to death?” Hoodie questioned, his gaze so deadly Masky could feel holes burning into his back. You awkwardly tugged his jacket closer to you, your breath shallow. “He’s k-kinda right, kinda an asshole move,” You said softly, completely exhausted from marching in a borderline snow storm. Masky’s gaze softened for a moment, before noticing Toby had taken off his gloves. “We need to get going before this dipshit loses his fingers,” Masky grumbled, shrugging off the issue at hand. The three of you trailed behind him, satisfaction washing over you as a cabin came into sight.

You weren’t an advocate for death, but you quite literally would’ve killed someone for a warm spot in that cabin. The four of you burst inside, scanning the room for any sign of human life. None of you could deny your eagerness to be warm. A small fire crackled in the background in the fireplace, providing a soft orange glow to the room. Masky gestured Toby to follow him upstairs, leaving you and Hoodie to scope out the remainder of the first floor. “Any guesses on why it’s abandoned like this?” You asked the taller proxy, avoiding his lingering gaze. Hoodie tended to be a bit unsettling sometimes, whether he meant to be or not.

“My guess? Some rich couple cut their honeymoon short and hauled ass once they saw the forecast,” Hoodie said blandly, shrugging off his ski mask. It had been a while since you had seen his face, his stubble grown out more than you could remember. “Good for us then,” You mumbled, averting your eyes. You stared at the ground so much you tended to forget what your fellow proxies faces looked like. Footsteps trampling down the stairs regained your attention, your head snapping in the direction. “Good news, place is ours. Bad news, the only heat source is that lovely fireplace right there,” Masky said, sitting down in front of the small couch. The three of you followed his lead, crowding around the tiny fireplace.

“This is your grand plan?” Hoodie questioned, his distrust visible on his face with his mask off. Masky fought the urge to light another cigarette, bringing his knees to his chest. “The fireplace as well as our body heat is enough to survive. Unless you have a better idea, be quiet,” Masky replied dryly. Toby took the opportunity to lay his head in your lap, a place he had been time and time again. You had taken on this role long ago, stroking his chestnut hair until the unpredictable ticking time bomb fell asleep. Tonight was no exception, even as you settled in next to Masky.

You ignored the ever growing tension that sprouted with each second as your arms touched, the smell of his cologne mixed with tobacco flooding your nostrils. Tensions were ever growing as your arm brushed against his, your energies so magnetic it made you unmistakably nervous. Nervous. You never felt nervous in any other situation. But around Masky? Especially close like this? You might as well have been a flirty high school girl. Hoodie ignored the three of you, jumping over the arm of the couch and making himself comfortable. He was always reserved like that, refusing to touch any of you unless he was back handing Toby. The couch squeaked under his weight, the squeaks continuing until the older proxy got settled.

You continued to play with Toby’s hair, swirling your fingers around his scalp. “Warm enough kid?” Masky asked, his voice more rough than usual. You tried to avoid staring, noticing him taking off his mask out of the corner of your eye. You wanted nothing more than to soak in his features, especially since his mask was practically glued to his face a majority of the time. Instead you forced yourself gaze to remain forward, watching the fire flicker. “I suppose,” You mumbled, catching a knot in Toby’s hair. You refrained from cringing as you brushed it through with your fingers, thankful he couldn’t feel pain as he slept soundly. The sound of Hoodie’s soft snores put Masky a little more at ease, his next words something he wouldn’t admit to the other two men next to you.

“You were right about earlier. I was an asshole, I should’ve had us head here to begin with,” Masky admitted timidly. He didn’t like being the leader, that role automatically assigned to him like it was his birth right. What he didn’t like even more than that, was admitting that he was wrong. He expected ridicule, which he would’ve gotten if you were Hoodie or Toby. But instead you laid your head on his shoulder, nuzzling your cheek against the fabric of his sweater. “I know you were just trying to please The Operator,” You whispered. You continued playing with Toby’s hair, ensuring your hand didn’t stop. You glanced up in his direction, soaking in his thick eyebrows and awkward side burns. His chocolate eyes met yours unsurely, an eyebrow raising.

“What are you doing to me kid?” Masky grumbled, his own heart beginning to race. This was bad news, feeling this way towards you. But the orange glow against your skin had him reeling in his own skin. “You tell me boss,” You whispered back, edging your lips towards his. It caught you off guard that Masky made the first move, planting his lips against yours. His lips were as chapped as yours, his taste a recognized mixture of mint and cigarettes. You melted under his touch, eagerly kissing him back. He was intoxicating, his large hand slipping into your hair.

You could feel your core throbbing with desire, your cheeks flushing pink as you realized this. Being a proxy didn’t exactly equate a productive sex life, your body longing for the touch of another human. You couldn’t get enough of his lips, his desperation. It was just as passionate as yours, both of you longing for human compassion. You shuddered as his large hand slithered down to your thigh, your legs parting instantly. His cold fingertips trailed up your sensitive skin, tracing your skin teasingly. You held back a soft groan, Masky eager to hear you make sinful noise for him. He was so close to your core, your body shuddering at the idea-

“What the fuck are you two doing?”

Hoodies voice was sharp, abruptly interrupting your lustful daze. Love affairs between proxies was forbidden, a strict rule made clear to you by The Operator. While he gave the same speech to Kate, he knew that her feralness would unintentionally have her follow his rule to a T. You, however, were semi more mentally stable, with a knack for fashion and semi put together appearances. For the first time you saw panic across Masky’s eyes, causing you to clear your throat. “Sharing body warmth obviously, you cold Hoodie?” You asked, the lie leaving your lips before you had time to consider the repercussions. For a second you could’ve swore you saw a glimpse of Brian, a playful smirk crawling up his lips.

Your hand abandoned Toby’s hair, grabbing a handful of Hoodies coat to drag him closer to you. You managed to spare a moment of hesitation, dragging his lips to clash into yours. You were tense at first, unsure what the proxy would do. You were surprised to feel him meet your desperation all the same, the nagging realization of his similar loneliness crashing over you. Teeth clashed with teeth, his desperation resulting in a deeper kiss than you expected. You found yourself getting even more flushed, knowing Masky’s eyes were burning into yours. He took the opportunity to press his hand against your core, noting how damp your panties were already.

“You’re gonna wake the kid up,” Hoodie grunted, reluctant to pull away from your lips to begin with. Masky rubbed against your swollen slick, earning a small whimper from you. “I’m a-a-already up,” Toby said groggily, sitting up. You avoided his gaze as he soaked in the sinful sight in front him, Masky’s hand on your cunt and Hoodie’s lips mere centimeters from yours. You swallowed, your core throbbing at the idea of taking all three of them at once. After all, you had to convince yourself you weren’t lying. This entanglement was nothing more than an exchange of body heat, a way to keep warm.

Right?

You turned your head towards Toby swallowing nervously as you leaned forward to kiss him. It caught him off guard, his light grey cheeks forming a tint of pink as he matched your actions. Two sets of large hands rearranged you as you lost yourself into the kiss, your ass in the air as your skirt got flipped up. “Fuck,” Masky mumbled, his cold hand sending goosebumps across your skin. You could hear Hoodie moving on the couch, causing you to pull away from sucking on Toby’s bottom lip. The clinking of his belt fully caught your attention, your eyebrows raised. “Do you um, not wanna be warm?” You asked slowly. A pang of embarrassment shot through you, a creeping worry of his lack of desire for you arising. The taller proxy smirked, unzipping his jeans.

“I just wanna watch you get knocked down a few pegs, now go on and kiss Masky again,” Hoodie ordered, palming himself through his jeans. You turned to Masky, cheeks flushed red and heart pounding as you met his gaze. His pupils were blown with lust, his face in the softest state you had ever seen it. You met his lips eagerly, obeying Hoodies demand. Toby took the opportunity to come up behind you, his cold hands slipping under your shirt. Your hand slithered its way down to Masky’s crotch, palming his hard boner. You were satisfied to hear a small groan claw its way out of his throat, your lips eagerly swallowing it. You arched your back as Toby’s curious fingertips found their way to your breast, squeezing harshly at your perky nipples.

“N-No bra? You’re just d-d-dying to get fucked huh?” Toby snickered. Goosebumps trailed down your spine as you whimpered, nibbling on Masky’s bottom lip. Your eyes slowly fluttered open, soaking in his facial expression. “Let me suck you off,” You whispered, biting the inside of your cheek as Toby harshly twisted your left nipple. Masky seemed at a loss of words, something that rarely occurred to him. He looked over you, eyeing a mischievous Toby. “Hey kid, make yourself useful and let her ride your face,” He said, his words laced with authority. You couldn’t ignore the warmth that spread over you as Toby laid on his back, nuzzling himself between your knees.

“Sit back on his face princess,” Hoodie ordered, pulling his cock out of his boxers. Masky clenched his jaw, having momentarily forgotten Hoodie was even there. He watched your shaky hands fiddle with his belt, slowly lowering yourself onto Toby’s eager mouth. You nervously glanced down at the younger proxy, licking your dry lips. “You can uh, touch yourself you know, or something,” You offered unsurely, feeling him shove your panties to the side with his cold fingertips. Masky placed his hand on the back of your head, gently reminding you to focus. “He’ll figure it out kid, stop worryin’ so much,” Masky grumbled. You continued to focus on undressing him, whimpering as you felt Toby’s warm tongue dart in between your folds.

“This is taking way too fuckin long. Let’s speed things up shall we?” Hoodie asked, his cock already exposed and in hand. Your eyes widened as he took out his hand gun, clicking off the safety. “Get to sucking princess,” Hoodie barked. Toby continued to lap at your folds, his tongue messily flicking your clit. “Are you out of your goddamn mind? What the fuck is wrong with you?” Masky argued. His attention was diverted once you took him in your mouth, eagerly bobbing your head up and down on his hard cock. Hoodie smirked at your reaction, noting the way your thighs squeezed Toby’s head harder. “Look at her Mask. You think a girl like us isn’t into some freaky shit? Now shut up and enjoy it,” Hoodie snickered, stroking himself to the sight.

Toby was eager, his hand pumping his own shaft as he devoured your cunt. He couldn’t get enough of your taste, his soft groans muffled by your soaked folds. Your hips involuntarily grinded against his face, your own moans sending vibrations around Masky’s cock. The brunette tried to hide his own sinful noises, but you taking him to the base cancelled out any possibility of him being able to do so. His hand grabbed a handful of your hair, assertively guiding you up and down his cock. Hoodie couldn’t get enough of the sinful sight, your knees digging into the hard wood as you struggled to hold yourself up. He wouldn’t stop watching even if the world collapsed.

Meanwhile Masky was struggling to hold on, having spent years and years with his hand as his only companion. Your mouth was so warm and wet, your throat only making it harder to resist cumming right then and there. “Fuck kid, you’re gonna be the death of me,” He grunted, feeling your tongue swirl around his tip. Your eyes were already flooded with tears, your gaze meeting his as you deep throated him. It was embarrassing to Masky how fast he knew he was going to cum, your sweet face only bringing him closer to the edge. Hoodie noted this as well, noticing the way Masky’s hips began slowly stuttering. A sadistic thought came to mind, one that he knew would ensure a good time for every party involved.

Your orgasm was approaching quickly, your thighs squeezing Toby’s head so tightly you were almost worried about him. “Go on princess, that’s it. Ride Toby’s face like the good whore you are,” Hoodie purred, stroking himself. He enjoyed watching your micro expressions, your mannerisms. The way your eyebrows furrowed when Toby licked you just right. Masky momentarily pulled out of your mouth, craving to hear your moans. Your spare hand was tugging at Toby’s hair, whimpers clawing their way out of your throat. “Fuck, feels so good T-Toby-” You whined, tilting your head back. Precum and saliva covered your swollen lips, your gaze meeting Masky’s. “Can I cum? Fuck, please let me cum,” You whined, struggling to contain yourself. Masky smirked at your request, briefly giving Hoodie a cocky glance.

“Go on kid, cum for us,” He cooed. Words couldn’t describe the satisfaction he felt as you came on Tobys face, your eyes rolling back and legs shaking. You planned to get off, a click from Hoodies gun ripping you away from your ride of euphoria. “I didn’t tell you to get off, did I? Keep riding princess,” Hoodie barked. Toby was still as eager as ever, his mouth gratefully accepting you as you lowered back down onto him. He lapped at your slick, devouring your cum. “Nobody’s stopping until everyone cums. That’s only fair, isn’t it?” Hoodie asked mockingly. You rolled your tongue out across your bottom lip, presenting yourself for Masky to use. “Masky, please, let me taste you,” You pleaded, struggling to stay upright. The overstimulation was making your body twitch, the brunette quick to shove himself back in your mouth.

Something about this, watching you be overstimulated and cumming, drove Masky feral.

He was more aggressive this time, pulling your hair and forcing your jaw to go slack. You whined as you struggled to keep up, saliva trailing down the sides of your mouth. “Such a good hole for me to use, fuck,” Masky groaned. He could feel himself coming closer to his orgasm, his hips stuttering as he thrust one final time down your throat. His warm seed made you gag as you struggled to keep him in your mouth. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you gripped his thighs, swallowing him whole. He pulled out of your mouth, watching you gulp for air. You were so pretty like this, your face fucked out and sounds nothing more than incoherent babbles. You could hear Toby’s groans growing louder as well, your thighs squeezing around his head as he came on his stomach. The three of you were spent, Toby’s tongue momentarily coming yo a pause.

The sound of Hoodies gun clicking caught all three of your attention, the taller proxy not hiding his sadistic grin. “Not all of us have cum, have we?” He asked, sending a shiver of fear and arousal down your spine. “Keep sucking princess,” He barked. His gaze landed on Toby, whose eyes were barely visible from between your thighs.

“And keep eating her out kid, I wanna see her squirm.”

[itsrlymine]

i apologize for the really long ask but i really wanted to share my thoughts and i would make my own loa blog but i dont have it in me to deal with anons so i fear i will dump them all on you 😔 first off i want to say THANKKKK YOUUUUUU you literally changed my manifestation journey i used to be really into manifestation back in 2021/2022 and i was trying to manifest my dream face but it never happened no matter how much i affirmed or listened to subs or anything so i was just like fuck it this manifesting stuff isnt real imma just move on with my life and thats how i went about my life until you popped up on my dashboard a month ago and usually i would click not interested on any loa content but i was like you know what lemme give this stuff a chance again bc i did try the non manifesting route and it didnt work out bc when i tell you my life went DOWNHILL i used to protect myself from negative experiences by having the belief that i was simply the exception to terrible stuff but the moment i left the loa behind and was like no thats unrealistic anything can happen well guess what!! so many bad stuff happened in my life the last 2 years its genuinely crazy. so i was like lemme try this again and i went through your blog and really tried to materialize everything you were saying and read it with the attitude that what you are saying IS real instead of the doubting attitude i had towards loa advice/info back in 2022 and things really shifted for me.

so the first thing i learned is that MANIFESTATION IS REAL and more importantly NOTHING IS IMPOSSIBLE what i went through these past two years was proof to me that manifestation is real because once i adopted that negative mindset and dropped any positive beliefs i had my life became a nightmare and all those terrible thoughts manifested right before my eyes. for example i used to believe that i always looked pretty no matter what, this was just something part of my belief system but when i abandoned the law and everything i told myself no thats crazy i cant mAniFeSt looking pretty its unrealistic if im not pretty then im just not and bro when i tell you i was at my lowest appearance wise I WAS AT MY LOWESSTT my classmates at school would come up to me and tell me i looked so different and so dull even my mom would say the same stuff to me and tell me i changed i also noticed a difference when i looked in the mirror. the reason why i felt like manifestation wasnt real was because it just seemed really crazy to me, i felt like things materializing out of nowhere and appearances changing drastically was just like something fantastical and just not possible here in the real world. well i am here to tell you that is NAWT THE CASE! the world is not logical and im gonna tell you why. most of us here have grew up religious, and whats more illogical than religion? there are so many stories in the bible where illogical stuff happen like youre telling me some guy can turn water into wine? doesnt that sound like something out of a fantasy movie? but it happened, right? you believe in the bible so you believe in all the stuff that happened in it even the magical stuff. and another thing with growing up religious is that we always hear stories about miracles where for example a neighbor who was really sick suddenly woke up completely healthy. and we also were taught that we can ask god for anything and that god can make anything happen. i remember when my dad would teach me about religion he would say that god can make the grass is purple if he wanted to. it isnt just in religion but also in another spiritual communities and stuff they also have their own stories where things that dont really make sense logically happen. this goes to show that the world and humanity were never logical and that illogical things can happen, they've been happening since the dawn of time. people just came up with their own explanations. so get that thought that you cant change your entire face because its too crazy out of your head because it isn't. anything is possible. we literally live on a rock and we somehow move and speak and talk and somehow atoms exist so pls get with the program aint nothing logical in this life and the sooner you come to terms with that the better. nothing is too crazy because existence itself is crazy.

the second thing i learned was that MANIFESTATION IS NOT A PROCESS. i used to hear this all the time back in 2022 and it never made sense to me i was always like what tf are yall talking about???? my understanding was that manifestation is the act of trying to get something, but i was so so wrong. everything changed for me when i started approaching manifestation with the attitude that i was reminding myself of what i have, not trying to get what i want. basically stop thinking of manifestation as manifestation if ykwim. to really understand this im gonna have to talk about the whole "decide that you have your desire > affirm that you have it > keep presisting" thing and break it down.

so what do people mean when they tell you to decide that you have your desire? does it mean saying out loud "i have __" and then a few seconds going "alright wheres my ___?" no. it means you in your mind decide that its ALREADY YOURS and that you ALREADY GOT IT. i dont know how to word this any differently because its so simple its literally in the words. im gonna try an example. im assuming that youre reading this with your eyes so you have eyes. are you trying to 'manifest' having eyes? when you say "i have eyes" are you using an affirmation to get eyes? is having eyes a desire youre trying to 'manifest'? no because you literally already have eyes bro how else are you reading this with your bootyhole??? so when you say "i have eyes" you arent manifesting via affirming, youre just saying it to remind yourself because well you have eyes. you arent trying to manifest eyes because you already have them. thats what it means to decide that your desire is yours. it means to stop treating what is yours as a desire because its literally yours. stop seeing it as something youre trying to manifest because you already have it, wtf do you need to manifest for? do you get it? don't think of doing this as you tricking your mind into thinking you have your desires because AGAINN you arent tricking anything you literally already have it. when you say "i have eyes" and you have eyes are you trying to trick gour brain? no. that sounds silly. im sorry that this is so repetitive but its literally that simple idk what everyone else is doing complicating the most simple thing ever.

and now, what do people mean by affirm that you have it? does that mean using affirmations to manifest your 'desire'? (i put desire in quotations bc you already have it since you decided you do) no. it simply means reminding yourself that you do. ill go back to the eyes example. if you were to say "i have eyes" right now would you understand that as some woo woo manifestation affirmation technique? no because you already have eyes. what youre doing is simply stating a fact and reminding yourself of it for funsies. you arent trying to manifest anything because you already have it. affirming doesn't mean tricking your brain or your subconscious that you have your desire or whatever, its just you reminding yourself.

and finally, what does it mean to persist? does that mean fighting for your life trying to convince yourself that you have your desire? no. because you already have it. it simply means that everytime you ask yourself "oh why isnt this showing up in my 3d?" you tell yourself "bro what tf are you on about were not manifesting anything we already have it are you crazy?" that's all. going back to the eyes example, you know you have eyes, so if someone came up to you rn and was like "hey did your eyes come in yet?" you'd probably think they hit their head or something because your eyes are literally right there its how youre seeing their dumbass. that's the same attitude you have to have towards your 'desires'. stop thinking of your 'desires' as desires, stop thinking youre trying to manifest anything, stop thinking you have to wait for anything to show up in the 3d or that the 3d is lagging behind or whatever, stop seeing manifestation as manifestation, stop imagining yourself sending in success stories asks when you get your desires, basically just stop dawg. you already have it. "dont contradict yourself" (although again you arent contradicting anything bc you already have it im just running out of ways to simply something thats already so simple). thats what it means to manifest instantly.

anyways thats all i wanted to say. im so sorry for the horrendously long ask i would make it even longer by talking about my success now but i think you would beat my ass if i did. bye bye love u

!!!!! you ate this whole thing up. y'all better come read this.

[brazenautomaton]

I guess I should've been more clear when I said Boeing "paid off" the bereaved family, that's on me I guess, but I didn't mean they paid them off in the same sense that you'd pay off a cop. If it even transpired, it would more than likely go something like: "Hey, we feel really bad about the tragic loss of your son who definitely for sure killed himself, so uh, here's some money for your loss. See, we're the good guys in this! Please don't point fingers at us." Or alternatively, they could've not been paid at all. Both are just as likely and explain why the family might still be pointing fingers. It wouldn't have been hush money, more like a gift meant to ingratiate them as an innocent party that obviously didn't work (again, assuming it even happened).

You have already forgotten what you were supposed to be explaining! You said they were paid off to explain why they looked at the evidence and concluded Boeing didn't assassinate him! Neither of those explain the thing you said! Neither of those make a fucking lick of sense when slotted in to the claim you made! You're not even paying attention to the things you say and think, the only consistency is that you believe it must all be a conspiracy of some kind!

"Alternatively, they could've not been paid at all." Your explanation as to why they blame Boeing for his death, but conclude he was not directly assassinated, was that they were "easily corruptible" but "could not have been paid at all."

But the evidence that he killed himself is the hole in his head and the "trust me bro" we get from the cops, which is the same exact kind of evidence that we got from Epstein's supposed suicide as well, just a man hanging in his cell and a "trust me bro" from the cops.

No. That is not what the evidence is. That is the opposite of what the evidence is. I have specifically told you that the evidence is not "trust me," in the post you did not read. You didn't read it. You didn't read the post. Because you do not care about facts in material reality, you only care about who you like and who you dislike when you look at what to believe.

The evidence he killed himself is: the lack of signs of a struggle, the fact the gun was one he owned since 2000, the struggle with mental illness, the testimony of everyone who had seen him dealing with Boeing's harassment and how it had caused his mental health to deteriorate, the notebook full of profane rants in his handwriting about what utter fucking scumbags Boeing was, the complete lack of anyone else's fingerprints, the lack of any unusual activity on his cell phone, the lack of any unusual activity on his hotel room key, and the fact that there was a fucking security camera in the parking lot and nobody else got into his car and nobody else touched his car and his car didn't move. The lack of unusual activity on his phone/GPS and hotel room key indicates nobody got into his car at another location. I said all of this in a post you claimed to read but did not read.

Not anything, no, just the ones where Occam's razor applies. Again, which is more likely, a hundred billion dollar company who are active agents of shady, illegal business practices had both the cause and the means to have someone with information dangerous to their company killed and covered up... or that the guy who was about to testify with said-dangerous information just up and decided to end it all right before the finish line?

That's not what happened you fucking twit. I have said this, in this conversation! He was not about to testify. He had already testified. The Boeing attorneys wanted to call him back for a third day of questioning, during which THEY planned to ask him questions that would be good for their case because they were the ones asking the questions and attempting to get him to say things that discredited him. His testimony was not invalidated by his death, it had already been admitted. He had already testified. He had crossed the finish line. He had already testified. That is knowledge about material fucking reality that you don't think is important because you just keep repeating large quantities of money like it overrides time and matter.

You didn't read that paragraph. Go back and read that paragraph.

No, actually go back and read that paragraph. Actually read the words in it.

I know you didn't read it. Go back and read the words in that paragraph instead of not reading them.

So then explain to me how exactly it's so unbelievable that a dude not in prison, not under watch by guards or cameras, was murdered in his car and then covered up as a suicide? How was one dude with dangerous information under total security and surveillance mysteriously killed and staged, but the other dude with dangerous information with no security or surveillance probably just killed himself?

Is this a bit? Are you doing a bit? Do you literally not care about material reality beyond asking the question "who benefits?"

Do you need me to answer why it is more suspicious that a guy who had a 24-hour detail of people whose entire job was to prevent him from killing himself killed himself when all of those people suddenly stopped paying attention at the same time and the equipment that was supposed to record him in his cell also suddenly stopped working, than a guy who did not have a 24-hour detail of people whose entire job was to prevent him from killing himself killed himself?

There are facts and details about the world we can observe and draw conclusions from. Repeating a large quantity of money does not override time and matter. It is not naive to rely on observations of reality more than repeating a large quantity of money. You do not have to believe that money does not have corrupting properties to believe money does not override time and matter.

Remember earlier this year when Boeing very clearly had a whistleblower executed? And law enforcement didn't even look for anyone or release any info about it or anything?

People keep comparing Luigi Mangione's case to the subway murderer who got off because of systemic eugenics, but I think there's something more apt about the fact that a CEO had someone executed in recent memory, with zero attempts to find a culprit, while they spared no expense at all to find (and probably frame, it's beginning to look like) someone who shot a CEO. It's always fine to slaughter if you're rich, but if you kill the rich, they will hunt you down.

[svgarseason]

𖹭 cw: suggestive, fluff, angst

══════════════𖹭 MINORS DNI 𖹭═════════════

PT 1 ⋆ PT 2 ⋆ PT 3 ⋆ PT 4 ⋆ PT 5 ⋆ PT 6. PT 7 [SOON]

English professor Nanami could tell that you were uncomfortable the first couple of days that you stayed with him. He could see it in the shy way you asked for permission for every little thing. "You don't have to ask," he tells you. "I'm glad you're here," he says. He feels suddenly warm, the way you smile at that. It takes a while, but it seems you're finally comfortable, if the way you hum moving around the kitchen and plop down right next to him on the couch with your laptop are any indication.

Professor Nanami tries his best not to stare, but it's hard. He can't understand why seeing you do mundane, domestic things, like making coffee or rinsing dishes, makes his heart feel so full, but it does. He guesses he is probably in love with you, and if that's the case he is well and truly fucked because it can never come to anything. He hopes it is just a passing infatuation, not that he is particularly prone to those. It has never happened to him before, actually.

Professor Nanami knows that, when you leave, his house will feel quiet and empty and he'll torture himself with thoughts of who you're with and what you're doing. He knows it will be soon. The selfish part of him dreads it, but his practical and morally upstanding side will be relieved. The couch situation is becoming potentially problematic, after all. The shorts aren't helping.

"Professor Nanami, what do you think of this paragraph, like, is it actually terrible?" He couldn't truthfully tell you because the plush of your thigh is pressed up against his as you lean over practically on top of him. Your hair is falling over his arm and, although he doesn't mean to look, he can see down the front of your shirt over your shoulder. It is so much worse than when you would crowd in on him in his office.

"Why are your eyes closed," you giggle "Is it that bad?" It is that bad. His cock stays at least half hard pretty much around the clock, now. It has a mind of it's own. He is squeezing his eyes closed, desperately grasping at any thought that might direct bloodflow away from his twitching dick. But he doesn't tell you that, of course.

"Just thinking," he says, instead.

Professor Nanami opens his eyes and your face is so close it kind of takes his breath away. You have never been this close before, and you are so still. Still like a coiled spring holding tension until it just can't anymore. He doesn't mean to, but he looks down at your lips. When he looks back at your eyes, he knows he's caught. He knows he should look away, create distance between the two of you, but he is frozen in place.

And by the time he has done all that thinking, it's too late anyway. The crush of your mouth against his is soft and warm, like the press of your body against his as you crawl into his lap.

Professor Nanami wants to pull you closer, taste you deeper. He wants to undress you and explore your body with his hands and his mouth. Really take his time with you, memorize you like a favorite lyric. His hands find the angle of your jaw, trace the line of your neck he had so often admired before coming to rest on your shoulders.

Professor Nanami pushes you away. "Stop," he says, an alien strangled quality to his voice. "I can't."

Professor Nanami stands in the doorway of the guest room, saying your name softly. You are a quiet blur of motion as you stuff your things into a bag and tug on your shoes. Your face a shiny, red mess of ruined mascara. He says he wants to talk about it, but you don't care, you're too ashamed. You feel like a stupid little girl with a stupid crush who did a stupid, stupid thing.

Professor Nanami doesn't try to stop you when you go.

a/n; hey guys, spoiler alert, but I'm thinking of making the next part a smau. It would be texts between these two. Idk. I love reading smau but I've never made one. Or maybe the next part will be readers POV, then a smau. Anyway, any thoughts on that? & ty for reading as always.

[writella]

Daryl Dixon Kissing Daydreams— A little look inside Daryl’s memories of kissing his favorite person in the world.

Details: Daryl Dixon x reader (no pronouns are used but there is one instance that I use the word princess), suggestive but overall, just some lovely sweetness! wc: 2k, slightly proofread— my apologies about any misspells, I just really want to get this out and get back to writing!!!

A/N: Let’s get back into things. ♡ I hope you’re all doing well. With love from writella. ♡

Daryl Dixon loves kissing.

He’d never admit it though— albeit that is a weird thing to admit out of nowhere— and he’s never said it out loud— albeit that is a weird thing to say out loud in most normal instances as well— but either way, he does. He really, really does.

Ironically, it’s his fifth favorite form of affection.

The first is acts of service. He doesn’t call it that though. He probably doesn’t even know the phrase. To him, it’s just being useful. Helping, or as he’d pronounce it, helpin’, or jus helpin’ awut.

This includes hunting to feed others, preparing food (even though he’s awful at it other than roasting things on a fire, so everyone agrees, just hunting), remembering things you like and getting them when and if he can find them, thoughtful gifts that remind him of you— basically any stones or trinkets he finds on his journeys, finding shelter if need be, keeping you safe and warm— even at the expense of himself, fixing things, taking the time to teaching you survival skills you want to learn, the sort.

The second is beating the shit out of people in his loved ones honor. Walkers, “Saviors,” men named Negan, basically, anyone out to kill you. He didn’t like seeing people hurt his friends, but he does enjoy when he gets to fuck people up in case it happens. To that, a subconscious part of Daryl’s brain says thank god there are no therapists in town; or, that they are either too scared to speak to him or have not gotten the chance to speak to him so he doesn’t have to reckon with the fact that his not-so-secret thirst for punching and shooting arrows at people might be just a little too high.

The third is listening. He didn’t know he was good at this until you told him. He doesn’t interrupt and he is not quick to judge, you had said, “or really you just know how to keep the mean things to yourself.” He smiled at that. He realized that yes, he is a silent judger, but he’s also pretty open-minded. He liked that about himself, and he found out because of you. It made him feel nice.

Also, if you were wondering, yes, you may have noticed that these three forms of affection can all be argued as kinds of acts of service, but again, Daryl doesn’t know phrases like that, and even if he did or if he was classifying any of his interests or skills, beating people up and shooting things with arrows would always be in its category.

The fourth is hugging– another one he wouldn’t admit out loud. He’d never say he needed a hug, but wouldn’t deny a friend one, and they became more meaningful to him after moments he’d thought he’d never see them again, or see you again. Hugs became incredibly important then. It made him realize that hugging was also the first form of intimate, physical touch that he ever felt comfortable with. He obviously didn’t grow up in an affectionate home, but he was at least used to getting a pat on the back from Meryl when he caught something good to eat, said something Meryl thought was funny, or did whatever Meryl told him to do “right the first time.” Seldomly though, if Meryl was in one of his good moods, he’d give Daryl an actual hug, one of those nice, brotherly ones. Maybe Meryl was laughing with his friends when saw Daryl, beckoning him over, hugging him by the side saying, “Hey little brother,” as he tussles Daryl’s hair; or at night, when Meryl stumbles in as a sleepy-go-lucky-drunk, lazily throwing his chest and arms around Daryl, telling him, “I love you.” He knew never to take it that seriously in those moments, but he did, he couldn’t help it even if he was good at making it look like he didn’t from the outside. The only other time Meryl would do or say that is when one or both of them got it from their dad. Nevermore did they feel closer, as if they were one half of the other, than in moments like those. Daryl felt almost bad for liking it. He used to have to earn affection, he realized. He’s almost ready to talk about it. With you. You give him so much so freely. He’s shocked and sometimes terrified by it. But your helping, your saving, your listening, your hugging– it made him feel ready to speak. It is what also helped him learn his last favorite form of affection, the one mentioned above and only saved for you, the fifth–

–kissing.

One of his favorite places to kiss you is by your fireplace. You two would sit on the rug and you’d ask him to drag the coffee table to where you sat. The two of you ate dinner there sometimes, near the fire on a cold winter evening, or you used it as a place to set down your drinks and whatever game you two were playing, or to use as a resting spot for your elbows as he listened to you talk for what felt like an enchanting forever.

He never tired of your voice as you spoke about your old favorite tv shows and movies and books that he had never watched or read, listening with no interruption– as he always does– or waiting for moments to ask you questions or follow-up questions about this character or that and you’d answer with as much as your memory recalled. You’d make yourself laugh with how silly and passionate you got over these things and he would smile softly, blue eyes glowing in the firelight because he liked hearing you speak, he liked everything you had to say.

It’s moments like this when your smiles catch one another’s and your eyes lock a few seconds longer than before because there is nothing else left to place your gaze on that Daryl places his hand on yours or on your leg and you know that means he wants you closer. His hand moves to your face and his thumb gently swipes and caresses your jaw and you both stay there for a moment, looking at each other. You move in slowly and you kiss him so soft and and tender and tentatively like a princess. His princess. The one who made everything so lovely and magical to what he thought of as his weird and jagged gremlin self.

Daryl gets excited during the times you decide to initiate. It makes him feel courageous when you’re courageous. He grabs you by the waist, pulling you closer, taking control as he slips his tongue in your mouth.

You sigh, warmth and happiness surrounding you as you allow him to take control. Grabbing your head as gently as his rough hands would allow, he sets you on the rug, giving you pecks before looking down at you one last time, seeing the fire illuminate your face with red and orange— the colors of his heart and mind when he’s around you— and then, finally, places himself atop of you and goes back to kissing you. Once again, he slides his tongue in your mouth, wordlessly telling you how much he loves you and how much he loves this. His hands trail down from your waist to your neck as you grab his and play with his hair as you kiss into the night until your mouths are sore.

Daryl also remembers your first kiss. You were angry with him, or at least that’s what he thought. But it was more so frustration, a tinge of disappointment. You were falling for him, desperately so whether you wanted to admit it or not, but it’s so hard to fall for someone not willing to open their heart— you can only be so patient. So, uncharacteristically, at least when it came to him, you got in his face, you got loud, you told him how you felt. Not that you loved him, no, not yet. You told him he’s closed off, that you couldn’t take it anymore, that you wanted him to be honest, to be real, to just say how he felt anytime, all the time, whenever he wanted. You never took him as fearful, but still, thoughtlessly, as your faces almost touched, you asked, “What are you so afraid of, Daryl? It’s only me.”

And then, he kissed you. Because it’s not “only” you, it’s because of you. You were everything. So despite bubbling anxiety that rises in his throat, he did it, he put his lips to yours and did it accidently so much more harshly than he should have, but he did it. He was honest. He was real. Because even if he didn’t say it yet, he loved you too. You almost cried when it happened. Nothing ever felt that right. As he lets go, you have so much to say but you’re speechless. All you could do is take the chance he gave you— you kissed him back, again and again.

Another one of his favorite places to kiss is behind houses Kisses behind houses were for a quick session or during the moments he’d be leaving for a trip. Sometimes the things he had to do meant there was a possibility of him dying, and while there were times that you’d journey with him, there were other times when you were needed elsewhere whether at home or on a journey of your own. This meant goodbye kisses. Passionate but bittersweet.

These are the moments he wishes more than ever that fucked you— he means had sex with you– he’s a gentleman— the night before, just in case he didn’t come back. Most of the time he cannot even think about kids. This world is crazy, and he enjoyed his freedom far too much, but there were moments, like when he thought about how he couldn’t see life without you that he did wonder about legacy, about a domestic life with you, or, if he did die, to at least leave you with a piece of him and the love you build together. But then other times he thinks, fuck, no; he always comes back and he’d never want to leave you to do something as big as raise a child on your own– you liked your freedom too, and he liked being an uncle. Either way, it was a fleeting feeling anyhow, but it did make him feel like a gross guy sometimes. Not only because he had never spoken to you about the future yet and didn’t know what you want, but especially during the times where he thinks, damn, he should have turned you over onto your stomach last night, give you something you’d really remember him by, but truly, if one likes sex, these thoughts are that one has sometimes… no one can blame him, he’s just a 40-something-year old girl, after all.

Daryl also likes taking you into the woods for a hunt or taking you on his motorcycle to find a good place to kiss. He is obsessed with privacy. He wants to feel free to be himself. And even though he does feel like he can with the core group, the real him around them is not the same as when he is the real him around you– the one who is your boyfriend and partner, the him who can also be a romantic and sexual being when you two are alone. Almost no one knows him like that and he’s never been in a rush to share or talk about his experiences. He’s not like Rick, he feels, that kind of effortless shifting between roles Rick has about him, not afraid to be open, communicative, affectionate about different areas of his life with friends. In some ways he will always still feel new to all this romance stuff, therefore, he likes to keep it to himself. So yes, sometimes since the group thinks they all have the right to walk into each other’s houses whenever they feel like it— (Daryl is actually the main culprit of this since he has had free dinners and slept in most of their couches and basements than anyone else, but we wont talk about that now)—you have made out or had sex in quite a few different places.

Moving back to the sweeter stuff, Daryl also loves forehead kisses. Giving them and reviving them. But if he was receiving he only liked it when you two were alone. In fact, he likes any kissing only when you’re alone anyway, but especially so to any kissing or affection that look super domestic. Daryl doesn’t try to look cool, but he also doesn’t need the public to know he has more emotions and ways of nurturing that people in town don’t need to know of. He doesn’t consciously consider himself a mysterious person but, ever since most people started generally liking him and talking to him– which he equally found as both pretty nice and weird– he realized he covets the fact that there are still some people who were shy, confused, or on edge by his presence. He doesn’t totally get it and sometimes he’s confused by other people’s confusion but he likes that it means he has some sort of control. You think about how people treat him versus how he is with Rick or the kids in town, or you are hilarious. People think he’s the guy who gets it done or that he’s domineering or both, and he is those things, but he’s also just a massive teddy bear that likes caring for people while also not liking people. It's the most interesting paradox.

Lastly, here is Daryl’s favorite kiss. It was one you had given him. He said it. He finally told you. You had told him a story of how someone left you, how much it hurt, how hard it is to know you’ll never get to talk to them again, to settle things, to let go the proper way now that you’re in this new world. So, in return, to make you feel less alone and to finally get it out, he told you that sometimes Meryl only ever told him he loved him when he got hurt. He told you that it felt like Meryl picked the times that cared for him, cared for him like brother should and not just sidekick or accomplice, that it was those instances and others things that had happened to him in his past with his dad or with the group in the beginning of all of this, is what made him feel he was unlovable. So many other things came out after that and even through the shock, you could see everything he said happening to him, it made sense, and your heart broke for him.

This time, you move your hand to his, you beckon him closer. Your fingers trail down his face after placing a piece of his hair to the side, caressing his. You tell him, “I’ve never had a friend like you. I’ve never had a love like you. I love you all the time. You’re always worthy.” And with that, you seal your words with a kiss.

That was when he truly knew he liked kissing. He learned what it could actually mean and feel like when it happens with someone so perfect for you— the true peace and romance of it all. He had never experienced something more beautiful.

[that-hazbin]

Sorta AU/story idea where Alastor's a serial killer but he doesn't... completely realize that he's a serial killer.

He's super mentally Not Okay with a whole load of traumatic baggage, and sometimes when he gets past a stress threshold, he sort of... blacks out. Not faint, exactly, but his body moves on autopilot while his consciousness is just. Not there.

The first time it happened, he was fourteen. His father had beaten him black and blue, and left him limp on the floor to go beat Alastor's mother. When Alastor came to the realization that his mother stopped moving, his vision went blurry.

When he regained consciousness, his father was on the floor, bleeding from the head, eyes glazed over. It looked like he fell and hit himself on the corner of the dining table. Alastor lost both his parents on the same day.

After that, Alastor started having "episodes" a bit more often. A majority of the time, he manages to get home, and when he wakes up, he's hiding under his bed or in his closet, confused as to how he even got home. He doesn't want to be admitted into an asylum, of course, so he keeps quiet about this.

Sometimes, though?

Sometimes, he'll wake up knee deep in water, staring into the dark of a bayou. Sometimes, he'll wake up half-submerged in his bath, red going down the drain, with no clue as to where he's injured. Sometimes, the person who was screaming at him before the episode hit just went... missing the next day.

Alastor keeps quiet.

Naturally, when Alastor dies, he goes to hell. He doesn't remember the crimes, but he did commit them regardless. Of course, when people ask him what he did to end up down there, he can't give a real answer. The truth of the matter is that he doesn't know. Sure, he has... suspicions. Theories. But he doesn't know.

Things happen. He has several black out episodes in Hell before they simply stop happening, because he's stressed all the time and he can't just block every single second of every day from memory. He learns how to consciously survive in hell. Makes a name for himself.

Things roughly stay truthful to canon from there.

Then, one day, Charlie has a brilliant idea for a hotel activity. Part of redemption means acknowledging what brought you to hell to begin with, and what you can do now to make up for those actions! They go around the room, talking about the sins they committed, and what they can do now to improve. Alastor fully intends to stay out of the activity, he's not working towards redemption after all, but... Of course, Lucifer has to taunt.

Lucifer: What, you're just gonna sit around judging us?

Charlie: Er, dad—

Alastor: Hilarious coming from you, your majesty, truly. In any case, your memory seems to be failing you, I'm not here for redemption. I have no reason to participate.

Lucifer: Uh huh, neither is the bartender or the maid, you think you can be exempt just because you're staff? I'm the King of Hell and you don't see me skipping out. And here I would've thought you would have taken the chance to brag about the fucked up shit you did up there.

Charlie: Hey, guys, I don't think—

Alastor: Husk and Nifty are grown adults who are perfectly capable of making their own decisions. I am also a grown adult, and my decisions don't need to reflect theirs.

Lucifer: Oh, I see, you're a coward then?

Alastor: Believe whatever you want to, it makes no difference to me.

Lucifer: Sure it doesn't. Why don't we make this a game, huh? I'll guess your sins, and you stop me when I get it right.

Charlie: Dad, Alastor—

Lucifer: Can't imagine you fucked before marriage or anything, I mean, you scream prude. Bet you died a virgin.

Alastor: Hah, I wouldn't know. Are you done with your childish taunts, or are you going to allow your daughter to continue?

Lucifer stops dead, both because of the reminder that he's interrupting Charlie's activity, and also because he's replaying Alastor sentence back in his head. And, as the father of lies himself, he realizes that Alastor... wasn't lying when he said he didn't know.

Charlie: Great, yes, thank you Alastor! So, anyways—

Lucifer: Wait.

Charlie: Dad!

Lucifer: Seriously, wait. Bellhop, what the fuck do you mean you wouldn't know?

Angel: ... Oh shit.

Alastor: ... Charlie, continue your activity.

Charlie: Uh.

Lucifer: Oh, FUCK YOU! No, what the fuck did you mean by that?! What, were you like, drugged or—

Angel: HEY LET'S TALK ABOUT MY DEEP DARK PAST AS A MEMBER OF A MAFIA FAMILY!

Charlie: YES THANK YOU ANGEL LET'S TALK ABOUT IT! I'M VERY PROUD OF YOU FOR VOLUNTEERING!

Alastor gets the fuck out of dodge, and Lucifer finally gets the hint that he definitely stepped on a landmine that he very much should have not touched. Unfortunately, Lucifer alongside everyone in the hotel are left with a misunderstanding regarding Alastor's history.

[tiredandoptimistic]

What I think works so well about Clary and Isabelle's friendship is that they're very similar people, but they present themselves just differently enough to appear alien to each other. Both of them were the only girls in a group of boys (Isabelle was raised more or less isolated with Alec and Jace, while Clary doesn't seem to have any friends other than Simon and to a lesser extent his band), and they responded to this in very different ways. Isabelle basically committed herself to her role of "the girl" and always performs extreme femininity, while Clary attempts to sink into the background as "one of the guys." Both of these behaviors can be seen as rebellions against their culture. Isabelle comes from the very misogynist world of Shadowhunters, where women are respected as warriors but expected to act in a masculine way in order to earn that respect. She rejects this, and proves her place as a brilliant fighter while maintaining her fun and glossy feminine traits (compare her with Jessamine Lovelace, who was seen as silly and frivolous for her feminine interests). Clary on the other hand is a child of the nineties growing up in NYC. As a teenage girl in the early 2000s, she would have been surrounded by "not like other girls" philosophy, and hyperfemininity would be both pushed on her and demonized in popular culture. Because of all the pressure placed on gender roles and her lack of connection with other girls her age, it's no surprise that Clary would develop a certain bitterness towards people who perform gender in a way she won't.

With all of that out of the way, we get two teenage girls who have no fucking clue how to handle each other. They're both jealous of how the other one fits in with the guys in a way they can't. Obviously any friend group is made up of friendships which fit together in unique ways, but Clary and Isabelle both see themselves as The Girl, and thus are worried that the other one will make them redundant (Clary gets along with Jace, so will he still need Isabelle? Isabelle and Simon are getting along, will this take away Clary's place as Simon's most important person?) Of course this isn't something that will actually ruin their friendships, but Clary and Isabelle don't know that. Instead they need to learn how to engage with each other, and I enjoy that TMI actually shows them having those conversations. They're trying, but it doesn't all happen at once. Clary still has bitter thoughts about Isabelle's femininity, and she also looks down on other girls like Maia.

Speaking of Maia, there's a really good moment in COA where Clary starts grumbling to herself about how unfair it is that a werewolf can be pretty, and that Maia should be gross and hairy. She then catches herself, and literally thinks "this is exactly why I don't have any female friends," showing that thanks to Isabelle she's learning to recognize her internalized misogyny. She can hang out with other pretty girls, and it doesn't decrease her value as a person.

It's just so nice seeing a character whose internalized misogyny is actively acknowledged by the narrative and treated as a flaw she must overcome. So many female protagonists in the early 2000s (and other decades) had the hyper-femme "best friend" who they hated, but even though that's how Clary sees Izzy at first, she's able to look past it and see the ways they click together. The two of them don't become besties immediately, but they're at least able to get past that first layer of hostility.

[betsj]

Stress Is Bad For The Brain

*ੈ♡⸝⸝🪐༘⋆

ੈ♡⸝⸝🪐༘⋆

🌷🧺*:･ warnings: smut, blowjobs, female reader, use of good girl and baby

🌷🧺*:･ summary: The Heart Pirates have been underwater for the longest. Trafalgar Law is stressed and he hasn’t been able to grab you at all… only quick grabs and make out sessions. After things settle more, you take the time to visit him in his office

🌷🧺*:･ im a fein for law.

He couldn’t take any more of this waiting. The little touches, kisses and smirks you gave him… it was too much.

If the crew—Bepo, Shachi, Penguin—any of them! Took you away from him one more time, he was going to teleport them into the ocean and drive away so he can fuck you all over the ship (of course he would go back and find them). It’s not like he would tell you this anyways but, yeah, that’s what he would do!

ׂ╰┈➤

Hearing your voice from outside his office. Bepo was also out there

“No honey, I just got to talk to the captain privately, okay?” Just hearing your voice made him hard… which was happening, “Shit.” He cursed under his breath. Bepo whined from the outside, “Aw okay…” Once the door shut, Law turned in his chair with his tattooed arms crossed.

You smiled at him, mumbling “Hey cap.”

In a harsh tone, he said “I’m working.”

Obviously, you knew that was a lie. Putting your arms behind your back and tilting your head, “Working with an erection?” Taking your pointer finger, pointing it out. Law felt his cheeks heat up, clearing his throat, “It can be handled later.” It was frustrating for you, he never wanted to admit how bad he wanted you.

Rolling your eyes and walking over to him and in a sultry tone, “C’mon Law… I know you want your cock in my mouth.” Running your index finger along his jaw, slowly sinking on to your knees. His breath hitched, looking into your eyes, that were pleading.

“Hm… you wanna be a good girl?” He stiffened when you began to unzip his pants. Mumbling, “Yes… I’ve been wanting your cum down my throat for so long.” All that big talk from your lover just for him to have shaky hands. Law groaned as you palmed the print, licking on the wet spot that his precum created. “Can I? I promise I’ll be a good girl and make you come.” And who was he to decline?

Throwing his boxers away as soon as they hit his ankles and finally letting his hard dick out. Your eyes looked like you were about to eat him alive… wrapping a hand around the thick shaft, slowly rubbing up and down. Multitasking, of course, your tongue ran between his slit which had more precum leaking, making Law’s legs shake.

“Oh fuuckk…” His strong hand played with your hair, “Please baby… make me cum.” Giggling, flattening the tip on your tongue before finally taking him all in.

A slow pace, it’s what Law loved, mainly when you were in control. In the situation, he would’ve preferred a quick throat-fuck but you made him feel so good. “God damn, baby, I forgot how good your dirty mouth felt.” Moaning, loving how he talked… he chuckled, “Yeah? You like being a good girl?” Nodding on his dick, beginning to pick up the pace, making Law’s jaw drop while letting out a moan.

Trafalgar Law isn’t a loud man in bed, maybe a few moans and groans in your ear sometimes but that’s it. So he must’ve been real desperate to be moaning like a teenage virgin.

Looking up through your eyelashes, beginning to jerk off the part you couldn’t fit. Law began thrusting into your mouth, “Oh god—yes, good girl, I’m so close.” Pushing the back of your head, making you gag. “Want me to come down that pretty throat?” Nodding, whining on his dick, he grinned… god was he wrecked. Messy hair, cheeks pink, mouth agape, and those bedroom eyes… “Or,” Moving some hair “Come on this pretty face?” Moaning… you couldn’t chose.

So you were gonna let him decided. You picked up the pace, letting him fuck your throat raw.

“Fu—fuck, yes, ple-“ Before he could even finish his sentence, he pushed your head down one more time before coming down your throat. Law let go of you, letting you calm down, removing his dick from your mouth. “Lemme see,” Law sat up, grabbing your chin with his thumb, making you open wide. Humming, “Good girl.” You wiggled, pushing him back into the chair and sitting on his lap. “Now I need you to fuck me…”

Law smirked, “God I love you.”

Rolling your eyes and smiling, “I know.”

“Glad you know I do because Ima fuck you like I don’t.”

last sentence was inspired by smb I follow 🫶

[laswells-ashtray]

It’s 9 AM where I am now and I have work at 10 (no car). I’m pretty certain I have some type of chest cold/phenomena, but I’m not 100% sure. And I’m on my period.

Can you info dump about all of the little COD ideas you have in your head so I can read about it on my break or when I get off? If that makes sense? It doesn’t have to be full stories, just the Autism Thoughts.

Damn, and to think I just had dinner. To be fair it was an early dinner but it was homemade spaghetti and it was fucking banging. Don't die of illness and such, also if you've cursed me I swear to God because whenever anyone tells me about their period I end up synced with them and that's happened seven separate times. It's like fucked up Bluetooth. And to the one person who reads this and thinks I'm oversharing, what are you gonna do about it?

Ghost has, and will again smack Soap across the back of the head for referring to food as "orgasmic" in public.

Nikolai has a penchant for hazelnut Happy Hippos. He has sworn John to secrecy but God forbid that man smoke a joint and get near a box of those fuckers.

Alejandro and Rudy once got into an argument because Rudy admitted that out of all of Alejandro's nieces and nephews, Rudy has a favourite. The argument only ended because after Rudy named his favourite, Alejandro realised that it was his favourite niece too.

Once while drunk, a baby gay let Kate hit her vape in a bar and Kate considers it the lowest she's ever gotten while drinking, this is nowhere near true. She threw up in a man's mouth when he tried to kiss her while she was drunk in her early twenties, she does not regret it. Nor should she.

On more than one occasion, Farah has woken up to find Alex's face smashed against her shoulder with him drooling on her shirt. She'll never say a word because it's endearing, it's adorable and if she told him he'd never sleep next to her again.

Speaking of, Alex is a wrestling guy. He's always liked The Undertaker bit, especially the entrance music but he doesn't like the man behind the costume. Follows Stone Cold on an Instagram account that he has mainly for watching reals, he likes photos of Stone Cold with his chickens or his cats. Loved the Punkintyre feud, and sided with Punk because he's a good ol American boy but Drew McIntyre awakens something deeply bisexual inside of him. Likes watching Cena and Bautista in any movies they're in, loved them back in the day. Fucking loves Toni Storm's transatlantic, old-timey actress bit.

Valeria is a reader, likes a good murder mystery with a glass of wine and some takeout. Will sit down to read a chapter or two and finish the book. She has a shelf full of her favourites, she'll read them online first but the ones she loves, she buys a copy of. The only non-murder mystery books she owns a physical copy of are the Jurassic Park novels but she bought ones with sophisticated covers so no one would be able to tell unless they open up to the inside page.

He isn't scared of them but Simon is deeply mistrusting of swans. He refuses to explain why to anyone, he just calls them cunts and moves on with his life.

John's go-to move when Nikolai is irritated with him is to drop to his knees and unzip Nik's zipper with his teeth. The Russian goes for it every time even when he knows it's just John's way of playing with him.

[loveesiren]

𝖥𝗈𝗋𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 (𝖯𝗍. 1)

Thanos x american!reader

synopsis: Y/n didn't want to like the asshole that was Choi Su-Bong, but his devilish charm pulled her in. She felt comfortable in his presence and she couldn't deny it. Besides, you could die at any moment, right?

warnings: language, mention of drugs and overdose, mention of suicide attempt, fast burn, death obvi

wc: 2.9k+

As you made your way to the arena, you couldn’t help but notice you were the only American there. Fuck, you thought. However, as the announcements came over the speakers, you were able to piece a few words together. The game was straightforward: Red Light, Green Light. A game you had played back in the courtyard in grade school. Easy.

But before the game started, a man began yelling frantically. You only caught a few words. You’d only been in Korea for a year, and the language was still so new. Despite your dad teaching it to you throughout your life. But you could tell whatever this man was saying couldn’t be good.

“He’s saying we’re all going to get shot if we move,” the purple-haired man beside you whispered. “Dude’s crazy.”

“You speak English?”

“Am I not speaking it right now?” he replied sarcastically. “Look, the game is simple. You—”

“I know how to play,” you snapped back.

The purple-haired boy shut his mouth with a cheeky grin. And with that, the game began.

“Green light!” the doll said as its face turned away. You began to move forward. The crazy man was still yelling aggressively, telling you to freeze and hold as still as possible.

You played the game correctly the next few rounds. You weren’t dead yet, right? You noticed a bee land on the girl in front of you.

“What’s that?” She asked nervously. 

“Don’t move…” You replied.

“You’ve got a bee on you,” the purple-haired boy said.

The girl in front of you began to scream and jump around, shaking the bee off of her. “Oh shit, I guess I just moved, didn’t I?” she laughed.

Before you could process anything, a bullet whizzed through the air, striking her right in the back of the head, killing her instantly. Blood splattered on you and the boy, and you held your breath, too afraid to move.

People began to run and scream as they noticed what happened, but you remained still and wide-eyed, a tear slipping down your cheek.

The announcer repeated the rules of the game after the massacre that had just happened behind you. The doll turned around once again and said, “Green light!”

You were still frozen with fear. “I’m Thanos,” the purple-haired boy said as he grabbed your hand.

“Y-Y/n,” you responded with shaky breaths.

“Y/n.” He repeated your name, pulling you out of view from the doll. “Stay behind me, alright?”

“Okay,” you managed, before the doll spun its head again, “Red light.” You clung to Thanos’ hoodie, bunching up the fabric in your fists as you tried to steady your breathing.

Before you knew what was happening, he had shoved the person in front of him, causing a domino effect of people to fall. He looked proud of himself, and you were appalled.

“Thanos, what the fuck?!” you gasped.

“Shhhh.”

“Green light!” the doll said, and Thanos pulled you forward with him. He seemed almost like he was having fun as he pulled you through each round, still guarding you with his body every time “Red light” was called.

Finally, the finish line was in sight. There were people who had already made it and people getting shot behind you. All of it was too overwhelming. When the doll finally announced “Green light,” you allowed Thanos to pull you across the finish line, falling on top of him as he did so.

“We’re safe! We’re good!” he said with a smile as he held you close to him. You hadn’t realized the way you had been clinging to him for protection. When you came to, you stood up.

“Why would you do that?! Why would you push those people?!”

“It’s a game, señorita,” he smiled.

He was right. It was a game. A game for your lives. But that still didn’t give him the right to dictate the outcome of others. You were overwhelmed with emotions and felt like you were going to vomit. You ran to the corner of the arena to be alone, covering your ears as gunshots rang out amongst the final few people trying to cling to survival.

And soon, the game had ended.

“Y/n,” Thanos’ deep voice rumbled softly behind you, an unusual gentleness in his tone. “I’m sorry.”

“Leave me alone!” you screamed, your voice cracking as you bolted toward the exit. You didn’t look back, following the others streaming out of the arena, their faces pale and haunted.

Back at the dormitory, you retreated to your bed, pulling the thin blanket over you like a shield. Your chest heaved with suppressed sobs, but no tears came. The sterile air of the dorm felt suffocating, thick with despair. 

A while later, the pink guards entered, their commanding presence silencing the room. They made an announcement in their clipped, robotic voices. From what you could piece together, it was a choice: stay in the game or walk away.

The man who had been frantically screaming earlier—warning everyone they’d die—was the first to vote. His trembling hand pointed to the X. He didn’t want to play anymore and he urged others to vote the same.

When your turn came, your heart pounded in your chest. The memories of the arena—of the screams, the blood, the chaos—rushed back, threatening to drown you. You didn’t hesitate. You voted X. The guard handed you a red patch with an X on it, the fabric feeling heavier than it should as you pinned it to your hoodie. Silently, you joined the others who had chosen to leave.

As you moved to the right side of the room, your eyes met Thanos’. He stood at the front, his broad shoulders tense. He voted O. Of course, he did. Your chest tightened as he glanced at you, a fleeting look of remorse flashing across his face before he joined those who had chosen to stay. You bit your lip, fingers instinctively reaching for the small dolphin pendant around your neck. Your father had given it to you when you were ten, during a trip to SeaWorld. It was one of your happiest memories. Now, you couldn’t help but wonder if you’d ever see him—or that simple, joyful life—again.

Later that night, unable to sleep, you wandered to the bookshelf in the corner of the room. To your surprise, a few books in English were tucked among the volumes. You chose a romance novel, something light to distract you from the heaviness pressing on your chest.

“Señorita, excuse me?” A familiar voice broke the silence.

You froze, closing your eyes briefly before turning. “What do you want, Thanos?”

He hesitated, his towering frame oddly hesitant. “I wanted to apologize.”

“Apologize?” you repeated, your voice cold. “Thanos, people died because of you. How can you even begin to apologize for that?”

His jaw clenched, his hands fidgeting with the silver cross around his neck. “I-I wasn’t thinking, okay?”

Your gaze dropped to the cross he kept fiddling with, the sight sparking recognition. “You’re hiding drugs in there, aren’t you? You weren’t thinking because you’re high.”

His head snapped up, his brows furrowing. “What? How did you—?”

“My brother had the same kind of cross,” you said, your voice flat. “He used it to stash his pills.”

Thanos’ lips twitched into a humorless smile. “Smart guy.”

“He’s dead now,” you replied sharply, cutting off his attempt at levity. “Overdose.”

His face fell, guilt painting his features. He rubbed the back of his neck, his usual confidence nowhere to be found. “I just keep screwing everything up, don’t I?”

“Yeah,” you said, brushing past him. “You really do.”

“Y/n, wait.”

You stopped mid-step, your body betraying you. But you didn’t turn around.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, his voice softer this time. “For everything. For what I did in the game, for the drugs… for being a complete idiot. I mean it.”

Silence stretched between you. Then, he added with a faint chuckle, “I swear I’m not normally this bad at talking to pretty girls.”

A reluctant smile tugged at your lips. You shook your head, a small laugh escaping before you walked away. You didn’t look back, but Thanos stayed rooted in place, watching you go, a lopsided smile on his face. For the first time in a long while, you felt the faintest flicker of hope—fragile but alive.

-

Over the next few days, you tried to focus on reading, but it was futile. Thanos’ constant glances from across the room unsettled you, and the looming fear of when the next game would start made your stomach churn. Every second felt like an eternity.

Finally, the guards came to collect you on the third day. The air turned heavy as you followed them silently through the endless halls and staircases to the arena. The game was announced, but your mind struggled to process the words. All you caught was the time limit: 10 minutes to form a team of five.

Panic set in as you scanned the room. Most players barely spoke English, and the few who did were already huddled in groups, or, with Thanos. The crowd of 365 players felt suffocating. You reminded yourself there was still time. You would find a team—somehow. Someone would need you eventually.

From across the room, Thanos’ gaze locked onto yours. You sighed, swallowing your pride as you approached him. His soft smile as you drew near made your chest tighten unexpectedly.

“Thanos?”

“Hello, gorgeous,” he greeted, his voice dripping with that infuriating charm.

“T, just tell me what the game is. Please…” you said, your tone sharp.

His smile widened at the simple nickname, but he obliged, explaining the rules clearly. You thanked him, turning to continue your search, but before you could take a step, his warm hand closed around yours.

“You’re playing with me,” he said firmly. “You’ll be safe with me.”

His confidence left you momentarily speechless. Something about the way he said it—the way his hand lingered on yours—stirred a strange feeling in your stomach. Unable to argue, you nodded and sat beside him.

His friends, however, were less welcoming, especially Nam-gyu, who didn’t bother hiding his disdain. “Why do we need her?” he grumbled. “She’ll just slow us down.”

“English, Nam-gyu,” Thanos snapped, his tone sharp. “She’s on our team. Deal with it.”

“I can pull my weight,” you said, lifting your chin. “I’m good at ddakji. My dad taught me.”

“Your dad?” Thanos asked, curiosity flickering in his eyes. “Do they play ddakji in America?”

“He’s from Korea,” you explained, a small smile playing on your lips.

Thanos nodded, his gaze softening. “Then you play ddakji.” he said with a warm smile.

When it was your turn, your nerves were palpable. You took a deep breath and threw the paper square. It hit the target but didn’t flip. You tried again, but this time, you missed entirely.

“Why’d you let this American broad join us?” Nam-gyu hissed, his voice dripping with contempt.

“Shut up!” Thanos barked, slapping the back of his head. Turning to you, his voice softened. “Y/n, you’ve got this. Deep breaths, yeah?”

His calm demeanor grounded you. Nodding, you steadied your hands, exhaled deeply, and threw again. This time, the paper flipped perfectly. Relief washed over you as your teammates cheered, Thanos’ grin wide and proud.

The rest of the team took their turns, with a mix of successes and fumbles. Nam-gyu’s performance, predictably flawless, earned him his smugness. But it was Thanos’ round—Jegichagi—that held everyone’s breath. He nailed it with a shaky but triumphant five kicks, securing your victory just as the timer ran out.

Cheers erupted as the guards untied your feet. “We did it!” you said, unable to contain your excitement. Without thinking, you jumped into Thanos’ arms. He caught you effortlessly, spinning you around with a laugh. When you realized what you were doing, you quickly pulled back, your cheeks burning. Thanos’ sad smile lingered as you retreated, but his eyes sparkled.

The rest of Thanos’ crew surrounded him, shaking him excitedly and shouting in celebration, but his eyes remained locked on you. Even in the chaos of victory, his focus didn’t waver, leaving a warm, welcoming sensation in your chest. You shouldn’t like him. You didn’t want to like him. But the tingling in your body betrayed you.

When the guards opened the doors, you and the others were ushered back to the dormitory. Thanos’ posse broke off toward their makeshift corner, their laughter trailing behind them. Before they could disappear entirely, Thanos turned and called over his shoulder, “Come with us.”

You hesitated, glancing toward Nam-gyu, whose glare could burn through steel. “I don’t think your friend likes me very much,” you said, gesturing subtly in his direction.

“Nam-gyu’s a dick,” Thanos replied bluntly, a crooked grin softening the harshness of his words. “I want you on our team.”

His casual confidence was infectious, and despite yourself, you smiled. “Okay,” you said, allowing him to take your hand and guide you toward the steps. You sat down, Thanos settling a step below you. He leaned back against your leg, his arm draped protectively around your knee, a silent claim that said she’s with me.

“So,” Se-mi asked, her tone light, “where in America are you from?”

“Las Vegas, Nevada.” you replied. “I grew up there but moved to Korea about a year ago.”

“Oh, I’ve heard of that place!” She cooed. “Sin City.”

“Yeah, it lives up to its name.” You chuckle.

“You said your dad is Korean?” Nam-gyu interjected skeptically. “You don’t look Korean.”

You bit back a sigh, already tired of his attitude. “My dad’s technically American. He was adopted by a Korean couple—my grandparents. He grew up here before he went to college.”

“Is that where he met your mom?” Thanos asked, his thumb lazily brushing the skin of your ankle in a gesture that felt far too intimate for someone you barely knew. But you welcomed it.

“Yeah,” you said, a reluctant smile tugging at your lips as you thought of your mother. “He wanted to reconnect with his culture, so he studied abroad and met her. They fell in love, got married, and had me and my brother.” Your voice faltered at the mention of your brother, but you forced the smile to stay.

“Is your whole family here now?” Min-su asked gently.

You shook your head. “No. My parents divorced when I was thirteen…”

“What about your brother?” Se-mi prompted.

“He… he, uh…” Your throat tightened as the words caught.

“Stop it,” Thanos cut in sharply, his voice brooking no argument. “Let the girl breathe.” He stood and extended a hand to you. “I need to talk to Y/n. Alone.”

Relieved, you took his hand, letting him pull you toward the quiet corner near the bookshelf. You sat beside him, and he took your hand again, the warmth of his touch making your breath hitch.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice low. “About your parents. Your brother.”

“It’s okay,” you whispered, though you both knew it wasn’t.

He studied your face for a moment before asking, “Why are you here, Y/n?”

You hesitated. It wasn’t something you liked talking about. “My dad is sick. He needs treatment, and I… I don’t have another way to pay for it. My grandmother is struggling with money and I…” You looked away, embarrassed by the raw vulnerability in your words. “What about you?”

Thanos let out a heavy sigh, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth. “I’ve done a lot of bad things. I used to be a rapper, I had a lot of fans, but everything I’ve ever done has been a disappointment to my family.” He paused, his eyes darkening. “Before this, I was on a bridge, ready to jump. Ready to end it. Then this guy gave me a card and said I could turn things around. So I came here.” His gaze softened as he looked at you. “And I’m glad I did. Because I met you.”

His words hit you harder than you expected, and you found yourself smiling despite the weight of the conversation. “I’m glad I met you too, T. And I’m glad you didn’t kill anyone today!” you teased, hoping to lighten the mood.

Thanos chuckled, shaking his head. “I won’t. Not unless I have to—to protect you.”

The conviction in his voice sent a strange flutter through your chest. “T… I think I need to stay for one more game. My dad needs me to finish this.”

He gave you a long look before pulling you into a tight embrace. “You’ll be safe with me,” he murmured.

As the remaining players trickled back into the dorm, you and Thanos talked. For the first time, you shared the pieces of yourself you usually kept hidden: your cheating mother, the messy divorce, your father’s illness, and your brother’s death. In return, Thanos opened up about his abusive father, his dreams of making his mother proud, and the way he’d been struggling with drugs and depression for years. By the time the dorm was full again, you no longer saw him as just a cocky survivor. He was someone who had been to the edge of despair and chosen to fight his way back.

When it was time to vote, Thanos’ arm draped lazily over your shoulder as your fingers traced the tattoos on his hand. His presence steadied you as the guard called your number. Before you stood, Thanos leaned close, his lips brushing against your temple. “Remember, I’ll always take care of you,” he whispered.

His words echoed in your mind as you cast your vote: O. The guard handed you a new patch, and for the first time, you felt confident.

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged! :)

© loveesiren 2025 - do not copy, translate, transfer, or repost my work without my permission. if you find my work on sites other than through links i've provided, please notify me.

[dannyz0ur]

Please I need a curly x reader fic where the reader see how stressed out Curly is and offers another way for him to relax…the cockpit has a lock…🙏 excited to see the fic if you chose to do this!

ok so a little short teehee~ i hope this delivers though!

You knew Curly just as well as any other crew member. He was a ray of sunshine, a beaming motivation in the midst of the sad grey ship you were all trapped in.

He was always cheering everyone up, saying words of ecouragement of advising them to take a break. Never did he show any signs of exhaustion, frustration, or anything else than joy for that matter. But you knew better than to assume he was fine. Of course being captain was an arduous task, he must've felt like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. He was so specially kind to you, or so it seemed to every other member of the crew.

You two had longer conversations after morning meetings and seemed to engage in playful banter while working, had your coffee together... y'know, stuff close friends do.

Little did everyone know how actually close you were. Or, well; right now, how close Curly was.

"Haah~ hun, keep that up and- shit..." He panted, gently pushing your head further down his cock. You knew just as well as he did that he wouldn't last long if you kept sucking him off like that.

Sometimes it was a blessing the cockpit had a lock.

And sometimes, the blessing was you, Curly thought.

The stress, the burden of being a captain would've driven him insane if he hadn't met you. Such a good friend at first, then gradually becoming fuck buddies one of those lonely nights at the Tulpar. You would either listen at him vent about his stress and burdens or make him forget about them with the warmth of your touch.

Not even five minutes later, you were bouncing on his lap, your plushy thighs and ass slapping against his muscular ones, the only sounds in the cockpit now were the wet plap plap plap each time he buried his length as deep as possible inside you, making your eyes roll back and your breath hitch, and the ragged breaths you two let out in an attempt to lessen the louder moans.

“G-gods… you’re- ahh- you’re amazing…” Curly mumbled in your neck, arms tightly wrapped around your waist while he helped you bounce up and down. “Captain~” you moaned, because you’d learned he has a thing for titles. At least when it comes to you. “You’re doing so good, hun… feels so good…” He always mumbled praises against your neck whenever he was close, it was his giveaway, so you gave your best to him until you were the first one to come—his request—and he followed soon after; whimpering your name.

Then you’d sit there for a moment, catching your breath, and after that you’d sneak out of the cockpit and into your respective quarters as if nothing had happened. But still, you both knew that it’d happen again and again. You were one of the few things keeping Curly sane.

Of course you’d do it, he was your Captain, he deserves it.

again, too short and took too long but here it is!! remember reqs are OPEN and here's my req sheet!

[em1989ts]

𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭 - 𝐩𝐭 2

part one.

word count: 2.6k

summary: after meeting five in the apocalypse, the two of you have a hard time living together. can the two of you control your tempers for one particularly cold winter night to save your lives?

contains: smut so 18+! (reader and five are both 5 years into the apocalypse so they are both eighteen) grinding, dry humping, fingering

author's note: yikes, my first smut. my inbox is open and i'm taking requests!! id love to hear some ideas :) I really wanted to upload this quickly so it's not proofread but eventually i'll edit it . . . but hopefully you guys like this, enjoy!

Living with this stranger definitely changed your life. Whether it was for better or for worse, you had no idea. 

The two of you walked for about an hour to his base, with very little verbal interaction reflecting the very little trust between each other. 

After a little bit of prying on your part, you managed to extract a bit more background information about this guy who you would now be surviving alongside. 

His name was Five Hargreeves. 

He had six siblings. 

They all had super powers. 

They were a team of superheroes formed by their father. 

When he first told you, you chuckled through the bandana over your mouth and nose, but he didn’t display the same humor. 

“Wait, you’re serious?”

“Why would I not be?” 

“Well maybe you just went cuckoo here and made up some super stupid backstory!” You replied, pretty certain that he was just nuts. 

Then all of a sudden, he disappeared. 

You jumped at a flash of blue light that suddenly appeared next to you. When you looked back to the area where he was standing, he was gone. 

Looking around frantically, your eyes searched the dusty highway for any signs of him. But there was nothing. 

Was he even there to begin with? Was he just a figment of your overactive imagination? 

Your breathing grew heavy once again as you panicked, then suddenly that blue light and he was right back in his spot next to you, looking amused at your eyes that were wide with shock. 

“Maybe you’re the one who’s cuckoo,” he said with a smug voice. You punched him in the shoulder before the two of you continued walking. 

~~~~ 

His base was interesting, to say the least. 

He had found a building that had only remnants of its walls intact, no roof, and used tarps to makeshift a roof and to cover the enormous gaps in the concrete. 

It didn’t look trustworthy by any means, you’d probably be better off sleeping in cars like you’ve been doing for the past five years. 

He lifted one of the tarps covering a significantly large hole in the wall and crawled in, letting it fall on you as you follow in behind him. You scoffed as you followed his lead. 

He surprisingly had a good stash of resources. Several canned foods, boxes of pasta, and cases of water were stacked in a corner. A makeshift fireplace was in the middle, with a pot leaning next to the circle of rocks. 

There was a small space in the corner. It consisted of what looked like a bundle of tarps and ashy blankets and pillows. You knew whatever happened to the world pretty much converted everything to dust, but he must’ve found those in cars, which somehow withstood some of the fire.

Since you had been sleeping in cars, you collect a couple of sleeping supplies you had found over the years. Thank fuck people decided to road trip before they perished or else you would have frozen to death ages ago. 

You began unpacking your bag and wagon, but you could feel his eyes watching you intently. 

Once you got settled, you didn’t really know what to do to break the unnerving awkward silence, he just sat there staring. You would tell him to take a picture since that would last longer but you're pretty sure there were no surviving cameras in the apocalypse.

The sun had set about twenty minutes ago, leaving the base to get darker as night grew closer. 

He made his way over to the fire pit, and took out a lighter from one of his pockets. When he went to light the wood aflame, the lighter wouldn’t spark. He tried for a while until you couldn’t bear watching the pathetic scene anymore. You took one of the new lighters you had just grabbed today and handed it over to him. He scoffed and snatched it out of your hand, then lit the fire in one try before tossing it on the ground and quickly walking away. 

You were taken aback by his childish actions. Sure, he was alone for years and only had himself to rely on, but now you were here so he shouldn’t be this upset to ask for help with a simple task. 

“You know,” you started with an annoyed tone, “the only reason I’m here is so we can work together.” 

“I don’t need you or your help,” he snapped. 

You cocked your head, not offended but amused. You found his self-reliance ridiculous. 

Sure, it would’ve done him wonders if he truly was the only person on Earth, having no one but himself to rely on. 

But he wasn’t. 

And you sure as hell couldn’t go back to the way things were before. 

If the two of you had decided that you could continue to survive on your own once again, you would drive yourselves mad knowing that there was another human to talk to, that someone else was out there alive and that you weren’t alone. 

You had to stay together to keep yourselves sane. 

“Fine.” 

You had too long of a day to even bother arguing with him. He’d either get used to you or die trying. 

You got up from the dusty ground and tossed yourself on his soft makeshift bed, comfortably taking over. He groaned frustratingly loud, and he tossed his head back and walked outside to get away from the bothersome girl he now had to deal with. 

~~~ 

A few months had passed since Five had encountered the girl at the gas station. That was the last thing he expected when he went out for more supplies that day. 

He definitely never thought he would have to share his hard earned food supply, water supply, and base with her, but that’s exactly what happened. 

She was impossible. She was incredibly sarcastic. She was such a pain. 

And of course, she was a nobody. This meant whenever she got bored of staring into her gross canned beans during those nights by the fire, she would ask about his past. 

He had already told her everything she needed to know, but she kept prying about how he got here, what life was like as a superhero, how his family was. At first, he would ignore her, or at least change the topic to distract her empty mind, but eventually he decided he could tell her little by little. He didn’t trust her, but he knew she wouldn’t try to kill him again. 

Initially, he wasn’t thrilled about being stuck with a girl. He was focused on survival, and his alone. But he quickly realized she was incredibly capable of surviving in this long gone world. Hell, she could’ve shot him dead that first day, yet she didn’t. 

He had been faced with the barrel of a gun several times in his life, yet he’d never felt the way he had when his life rested in the twitch of your finger. 

Your anger did something to him. He blamed it on his teenage hormones, but he couldn’t get enough of when you would pounce at him with a clenched fist. He enjoyed bumping into you purposefully, tripping you, picking you up just to toss you away from him. His constant scowl only hid his raging smirk every time you would get up close, letting him see every detail of your face, how your pupils dilated with intense anger, just to yell about how selfish he was, knowing you were just as guilty. 

If surviving on your own in the end of the world wasn’t hard enough, providing for two was nearly impossible. You had to be extremely cautious about your rations, conserving your intake only to what was deemed necessary. Oftentimes, the two of you would steal from each other when no one was watching, which would piss them off horribly, leading to even more fights. If starvation didn’t kill you, your deadly attitudes would. 

Your tempers had gone through the roof once you started living together. 

Walking away from a fight would call for a knife to be thrown at you behind your back. A snarky comment would result in a hand coming in and punching over your meal. 

While neither of you were going out of your way to deliberately kill the other, you sure wouldn’t mind if it accidentally happened. 

When the nights got colder, and autumn turned to winter, the wind would pick up, making it extremely difficult for the tarps to trap any heat into the base. No matter what the two of you did, the constant flapping drove you insane, and you had already been ticked off when he ignored every single idea you had. His bright idea of just stretching the tarp tight enough over the biggest gap in the whole base led to it ripping right in half, letting the winds fly in with no other tarp big enough to replace it. 

“Great job, you dumb fuck,” you muttered as you turned to the fire, which was too small for its warmth to be felt from the beds. 

Your nose felt like it was about to fall off, your fingers felt like nothing, and your lips were blue. You had put on every layer you could find and it still wasn’t enough. Surely, this was the harshest winter you’d experienced in the apocalypse. 

You had usually been fine sleeping in cars, but every single one within a mile radius had been completely destroyed. The two of you would let out your violent rage on the vehicles rather than each other. 

Five had stared at you from his spot by the hole in the wall, snowflakes freckling his face, holding the remains of the tarp. He did his best to cover as much as he could with the pieces then made his way over to you. He noticed how red your cheeks were, and how pale the rest of you was. You had sat down by the fire and dropped your chin between your knees. 

“We’re not surviving this winter,” you said solemnly. You weren’t necessarily giving up, you would still do what you could, but you had little hope in yourself. Morale was hard to build these days, especially when all you wished was to throw yourself into the fire for even a moment of warmth. 

For Five, giving in to the cold wasn’t an option. Not in the slightest. 

He had an idea, maybe a bold one, but if it meant living to see another spring then he would do it. He walked over to the bed and grabbed as much as he could grab. The tarps, blankets, and pillows stuffed under his arms until he couldn’t fit anymore, and he dropped them right next to you by the fire and started laying them out. 

You lifted your head up slightly and displayed a curious arch in your brow as you watched him remake his bed on the ground. The idea was so obvious you cursed yourself for not thinking of it first. 

As you were getting up to grab your bed supplies, a freezing hand pulled you back down and into him. You caught your balance with your hand on his jacketed shoulder, “What the hell?-” 

“Just listen to me,” he cut you off, “The only way either of us is gonna last the night is if we use our body heat. The fire’s going to help but it won’t be enough.”

You scowled, was that seriously the only option? 

Instead of letting you take your sweet time to contemplate whether or not it was worth it to cuddle with him for your life, he tugged you into him and laid down with you. 

His arms wrapped around your front as he held you against his chest, and holy fuck, it felt as if you had been leaning against a furnace. His heat warmed you up quickly, and you brought a blanket up to your chin to keep that heat locked in. 

The proximity of the two of you was what kept you from falling asleep immediately. His chin resting in your neck made you feel something you didn’t want to admit you felt about Five. His arms around your waist made you want him to move his hands just a little bit lower. 

You had an idea that could get you killed. 

While pretending to adjust and get comfortable, you gently grinded your ass against him, trying to get a reaction. 

Immediately, you could feel his arms tighten around you, and a bulge was already pressing into you. 

He leaned closer to your ear and growled quietly, “What do you think you’re doing?” 

You turned your neck to look at him, performing with the sweetest eyes you could display, “Just getting comfortable.” 

Your lips were inches away from his, yet neither of you made a move to close the gap. Five still looked at you with skeptical eyes even though he knew exactly what you had planned. 

Once you moved your hips again, a little harder, he pressed his face into your shoulder as he sighed and repeated the action. 

You let out a quiet groan, enjoying the pressure, yet you brought the blanket up over your mouth to muffle it, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. 

He picked up his pace, lowering his hands to hold your hips firm, rolling them against his. The blush on your face grew even more red, and you could feel beads of sweat forming on your forehead. 

His grip was tight, his groans were getting louder, and it felt like you really had frozen to death because this felt like heaven. 

His hand crawled through your layered sweatpants as he reached between your legs. As his cold fingers reached the spot you needed him most, you almost cried out, desperately needing the pressure. 

His other hand moved from your waist, traveled under your sweatshirts, and found its place on your breast. The freezing touch had such a strong sensation, and the pressure felt so good. 

“Please,” you let out, knowing you’d be kicking yourself later for sounding so painfully desperate, “I need more.” 

He moaned in your ear as his bulge pushed harder against you, “We can’t.” 

“Please,” you pleaded, as his fingers circled your clit.

God, you felt pathetic but it felt so good. 

He groaned as he gathered your wetness. 

“It isn’t safe,” he said, disappointed at the fact that you just couldn’t risk that in the apocalypse. 

Before you could beg, he plunged his long fingers into you, soft moans spilling from your throat at the motions. 

His actions grew faster and so did his panting, you knew he was getting close and you were too. 

You turned your neck to face him, looking up at his flush face. He met your dazed eyes, admiring how your face glowed with pleasure. His eyes locked onto your lips as he moved closer and captured them with his. 

Moaning into each other's mouths was just too much for you both, as he came in his sweatpants as you came around his fingers. He let you both ride out your highs before he gently pulled out his fingers. 

He looked at you unusually sweetly, and as you turned to ask what that face was about he shoved his fingers into your mouth, sliding your juices onto your tongue, letting you taste yourself. 

You were surprised initially and groaned at the action, then bit his fingers which caused him to scowl and quickly pull them out. 

“This doesn’t change anything.” 

“Of course not.” 

~~~

tags: @groovydazephantom

[tellmegoodbye]

It's my first (official) Wip Wednesday of 2025!

I couldn't decide which WIP to share, so we're double dipping today.

Thank you @thisbuildinghasfeelings @carlos-in-glasses @paperstorm @strandnreyes @bonheur-cafe @whatsintheboxmh @nisbanisba @carlossreaders @heartstringsduet and @lemonlyman-dotcom for tagging me!

This first snippet is from my spicy d/s fic, and I know @heartstringsduet will appreciate me finally sharing more of this fic.

TK Strand is no stranger to submission. He fancies himself somewhat of an expert on the subject of his own likes and dislikes, and if he happens to enjoy a little bondage here or a little dirty talk there, he's not about to shy away from that. The concept of total submission is so much bigger than that though, and TK isn't sure if he's ever been able to fully wrap his head around it. To him, there's power in being held down, knowing he can give as good as he takes, knowing that he could easily have his partner a shivering mess beneath him, but choosing to give his body over to them instead. Being overpowered and fucked so hard that he could feel it in his marked up thighs all week – that is power. That is freedom. But he would never go as far as to call it subspace – not when every description of it he's ever come across is so much deeper and fulfilling than anything he has ever experienced. Part of him wanted to chalk it up to fantasy, something that might just exist in stories that are created specifically to be thrilling and sexy. And he was okay with that. He never had any desire to create such a feeling and simultaneously turn everything he's ever known about the power of sex on its head. He's never felt safe enough. Then Carlos Reyes came barreling into his life.

This next snippet is from my murder mystery AU!

Sharp gusts of wind nip at his wrists and neck, seeking out every small expanse of exposed skin currently unprotected by the material of his APD windbreaker, which he's come to realize is a size too big on him. It figures that his uniform isn't a perfect fit just yet, but he would have preferred to find out on a warmer day is all. This must be what he gets for transferring in the middle of January. The crime scene is particularly obscured by the medical examiner's van from where he's standing, and TK can't see where Carlos went, but he's not particularly concerned with his whereabouts at the moment. He takes a deep breath and takes an inventory of the scene around him, grounding his senses with each exhale. There's a flurry of flashing lights. From cell phones, from cameras belonging to the local news station. The sound of each snap of a picture mingles with the murmurs and footsteps from onlookers, drowning out the distant sounds of traffic on the other side of the alley, where the rest of the world moves forward in spite of the tragedy before them. There's a muted commotion accumulating along the flimsy police tape. It rattles against the forceful winds, a harsh, piercing noise dragging TK's attention away from the familiar dread that lies beyond the border. He's stepped over that line so many times and faced some of the worst horrors this world has to offer, and yet taking those first steps never seems to get any easier. “Strand,” Carlos’ voice snaps through the hazy chaos. “Get over here.”

Tagging: @ironheartwriter @emsprovisions @sapphic--kiwi @literateowl @eclectic-sassycoweyes @nancys-braids @captain-gillian @alrightbuckaroo @theghostofashton @morganaspendragonss @carlos-tk @henrygrass @futures-tense @goodways @decafdino @lightningboltreader @welcometololaland @rmd-writes @reyesstrand @butchreyes + open tag!

[delta-pavonis]

@alexxuun I have a start...

“Jayce, my boy. Please, sit down!” Heimerdinger motions to the chair opposite his desk as he hops up the steps to sit on his own chair, boosted significantly so that he can talk to humanoids sitting across from him eye-to-eye. His poro chirrups and skitters around Jayce's feet excitedly.

Jayce reaches down and pets the creature as he sits. “Of course. You asked to see me, Professor?” 

“Yes, yes. It is about the most recent test. Yo-”

“You flunked it,” comes an annoyed, accented voice from Jayce's right and he nearly jumps out of his skin from the shock of it.

There is a small couch at the far end of the room, which is mostly in shadow given the angle of the late afternoon sun coming in through the window. And on it lounges the very reason Jayce has seen his grades in the class drop precipitously…

“Viktor!” Heimerdinger scolds affectionately, minorly affronted at the brusque approach of his graduate assistant. “No need to-”

“Yes. Need to,” Viktor interrupts their professor again, grabbing the test from the edge of Heimerdinger’s desk and shaking it as he limps over to Jayce without his cane. “Your score on this test is not consistent with the quality of your work from the first half of the course. And you have been working extra with the study group–I have been there to see it! So the only conclusion I can come to is that you are no longer taking this seriously and–”

“Enough!” Heimerdinger doesn't exactly yell, but his voice slices through the air between his two students as deftly as any blade. “What Viktor is trying to convey,” and here the yordle gives his assistant a glare that could peel paint off walls, which actually makes the grad student blush and look a little sheepish, “is that we’re worried about you, Jayce.”

Jayce looks from his professor to Viktor and back. We?

Further, he is acutely aware of how close his and Viktor's legs are to touching now that the TA is propping himself up on the edge of the desk. Jayce looks down and sighs. “Yeah, I know. I have…” 

spent all my brain power thinking homoerotic thoughts about the professor's assistant who has decided to attend almost all of the past month of classes 

“...been…”

been too busy concentrating on hiding my feral attraction to the genius grad student helping me fumble through my work to remember anything I am learning

“...distracted. As of late.”

Viktor crosses his arms over his chest and stares at Jayce, unconvinced. “Well un-distract yourself. Quickly. This is content essential to your fields of interest…” wait, he knows what I am interested in? “...and you are too brilliant of an engineer t-”

Jayce's head snaps up and he boggles at Viktor, jaw hanging open and eyes no doubt as wide as saucers. Brilliant?

A painfully attractive blush blooms on Viktor's stark cheekbones as his mouth clicks shut. There is a moment of silence where it is just them, eyes locked together, and Jayce swears that Viktor's pupils dilate. 

Then Heimerdinger blunders on, unaware of the crisis happening right in front of him. “Quite right! You are far too promising to have you not pass this class. It would prevent you from skipping ahead and entering the graduate seminar next semester and really digging into your research. I remember when I…”

The professor’s voice fades to a background drone as they maintain eye contact. Jayce picks his jaw back up off the ground and closes his mouth, licking his lips when he does, and fuck he is pretty sure Viktor looked down to track the motion. 

Jayce is totally fucked up over Viktor. Daydreaming about wildly inappropriate things Viktor could do to him with those elegant fingers all through class kind of fucked up. Can barely make it through one of the assistant’s extra recitations without coming in his pants, forget not getting hard as hell, kind of fucked up. Drop to his knees right now and press his face into Viktor's groin and plead to be allowed to suck his cock kind of fucked up. Go down on all fours and serve as a place to rest Viktor's bad leg kind of fucked up. ‘Would you like to be called Sir or Master?’ kind of fucked up. 

Some of that insanity must show on Jayce's face because he unfolds his arms to grip the edge of the desk and uncrosses his ankles so he can stand with his knees further apart. Jayce traces down Viktor's body with his eyes, lingering on what might be the start of a bulge beneath his trousers oh god.

“...right, Viktor?” Viktor startles and looks back to his mentor. “You thought Jayce should start individualized tutoring immediately, yes? I am sure one of the other students in our lab could-”

“No, I’ll do it,” Viktor says, quick and, if Jayce didn't know any better, eager. That thought makes Jayce feel like he might burst into flames. “I can't continue working until we get the next samples of stone from Demacia, which won't be for another two weeks.”

“Oh! Well that works out perfectly then!” The bells from the Academy tower choose that moment to chime the hour. “Ohhh, fargle and bargle, I’m late!” Heimerdinger takes the steps to the floor two at a time and starts shuffling out the door. “I’ll just leave you two to make arrangements then. Good luck!” His poro yips and yaps happily as it follows behind him.

Jayce looks at the door until the sounds of the professor and his pet fade. Then he takes a deep breath and turns back to Viktor.

Viktor, whose gaze has darkened and who is looking at Jayce with an undeniable hunger. “So,” his smirk curls into something wicked, “what might we do to help you overcome this distraction that has plagued you in the lecture hall?” He slides along the edge of the desk until their calves are touching, running his good leg along Jayce's from knee to ankle. “Do you actually need remedial lessons? Or do you just need the opportunity to take your assessment without me in the room?”

Nothing could have prepared Jayce for Viktor being so forward. He isn't sad about it, to be clear; it cuts through a lot of bullshit and for that Jayce is grateful. It is refreshing. “Honestly?” Jayce looks up to the other man and softens his expression, risking that it might come off as too goofily adoring. “I can't think straight when we're in the same room.”

Viktor's head tilts to the side and his eyes glitter like prisms in sunlight. He is gorgeous. “I certainly hope your thoughts about me aren’t straight.”

That breaks the last of the tension in the room and Jayce laughs, running a hand over his face to try to wipe away the giddiness he feels from knowing his interest is reciprocated. He is delighted by this playful side of Viktor, something he has only seen before in small flashes. “No, they definitely are not.” They smile at each other and the mutual attraction simmers between them, alive and electric. “Come on,” Jayce tilts his head towards the door as he stands. “I haven’t had lunch yet. And you apparently don’t have any research to do for a few weeks. Come with me to get a bite to eat? Or a coffee?” 

“Alright. Let me just-” Jayce is across the room in three strides, grabbing Viktor’s cane and handing it to him. Of all things, this makes Viktor really blush. “Thank you,” he whispers.

“You’re welcome.” Jayce stuffs his hands in his pockets before he does something stupid like reach out to lace Viktor’s fingers with his own. “I was thinking the cafe down by Kingswood and Copper Lane… it’s not too far.”

Jayvik Academy au where jayce is taking Heimerdinger’s class and a certain assistant start attending to help out the student, sometimes even taking over to teach classes for the professor. Jayce… can’t focus in class for some reason and ended up needing to ask for help after class… from the man who distracted him in the first place.

[autistichalsin]

My hot take of the week this week is that 90% of the reasons Halsin haters hate him is that they played a game of telephone with other Halsin haters and hurt their own feelings becoming convinced that shit that no rational person would conclude from canon are real.

IE: "Halsin is a complete freak who fucks anything that moves" started with a bunch of SH fans who were offended she wasn't a goth tradwife for them, but then morphed into: Halsin fucked Tusk the boar, Halsin said he could fix Astarion's rape trauma with a threesome, Halsin was inappropriate with Thaniel and probably touched him, Orin's scene impersonating Halsin where she implies he lose control of his bear form and mauled a bunch of children was ACTUALLY implying his bear form raped those children, Halsin fucked the worgs in the goblin camp because if you kill Dror Ragzlin before meeting him and ask where Halsin is, he says Halsin is 'rutting' down in the worg pens and as we all know, villains are never needlessly insulting to heroes, he creepily calls himself 'daddy Halsin' at the end to refer to raising orphans which means he 100% is conflating being a sexual 'daddy dom' with raising children which makes him a pedophile... (All posts I have encountered in the wild, by the way)

Basically all the Halsin hate is them getting themselves worked up into a hysteria by Halsin being a sexual person, and then twisting everything Halsin does to be about sex even when sex is implied NOWHERE in the conversation but they make it so in their imaginations because they see Halsin mentioned and assume it must be sex, and then using that as further proof Halsin is nothing but sex, and even a sexual predator, because look at all these things that definitely happened!

And it never once occurs to them that maybe THEY'RE the creeps for thinking Halsin playing matchmaker for the animals at the Grove ACTUALLY means he was fucking them.

There are valid reasons one may DISLIKE Halsin, but outright hate almost always comes from people this detached from reality and lacking any form of media literacy.