#LIE about the area where you live LIE about your name LIE about your personal details

[microcosmtoxin]

its so shocking to me how few people lie online. like especially under 18s. even under 16s. DO NOT POST PUBLIC SELFIES! DO NOT GIVE ANY LOCATION INFORMATION OUTSIDE COUNTRY! DO NOT SHARE GOOGLE DOCS/DRIVES! LIE LIE LIE! DONT LINK YOUR PUBLIC ACCOUNTS WHERE ITS REALLY EASY TO FIND YOUR REAL NAME/IDENTITY! IT MAY NOT SEEM LIKE A BIG DEAL FOR SOMEONE ONLINE TO KNOW WHAT SCHOOL YOU GO TO AND WHAT YOUR NAME IS BUT LIE!

[sleep-0-deprived]

Feral nights ~! (Woverine x bottom male reader) ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

WC:. 2.7K

Tags: slight knife play(his claws) hair pulling, spit as lube, little to no prep(ass eating is the prep), cabin sex, slight A/B/O dynamics(Logan has ruts) scenting, marking, nesting, feral Logan, age gap (reader is twenty five and Logan is forty four), younger male reader, ass eating, and aftercare ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა

A/N this was just a personal smutty one shot for my depraved self after seeing the Hugh Jackman wolverine movies<33

Just moving to a rundown cabin wasn’t your big dream after college to say the least, and here you were a twenty five year old man unpacking boxes from the back of your car and into the little cabin you had bought. Looking over your shoulder across the lake you see another cabin with a man standing outside. One of the main things that stuck out was his excessive body and facial hair, how his hair cut looked like two wolf ears of you squinted from afar, you heard that the cabin across from you was where the wolverine lived but you didn’t think much of it.

Looking away quickly as you scurry off into your cabin trying to not think nothing of the man while you settle into your cabin, the weeks to follow ever since the first glance of eye contact you can’t deny there is tension and what you’re reading as upset from the brooding man but was actually sexual but it’s not your fault he was a hard men to read.

Later that evening you just finished setting up your room, right as you were about to move onto the next part of the cabin to set up you see through your bedroom window Logan outside in his front yard chopping wood in his signature flannel. You stood paralyzed unable to do anything but watch how the older man’s biceps flex when he swings his axe, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows giving a peak of his arm hair making you wonder about what the rest of his body must look like.

Chewing on your bottom lip until he looks up from what he was doing making your eyes meet. You soon close your curtains and get out of view of the window all embarrassed pushing it aside and moving on to the res of your cabin as you go and start setting up more.In the weeks you’ve been in your new cabin after that incident you’ve only ran into him a handful of times in the only grocery store around the small town or when you wave at him from across the lake only returning with a grunt and a little nod before he goes back to chopping wood.

The day went normal, long day and seeming longer nights in this area. That was until you seen from the bedroom window of the cabin, your Logan walking towards yours, confused how he even made it across the lake you walk towards the front door opening it up all confused wearing a random shirt you had designated to nightwear and a pair or pajama pants with a video game character from a random game you played on them.

“Can I help you sir?…” murmuring out as you look up at Logan “I see the way you’ve been lookin at me bub” he grumbles out nearly heaving all pressed to the door frame of your cabin doorway nearly towering you over.

“What?, I didn’t know I was looking at you any sorta way sir…” You speak out almost like you were teeth to convince yourself that, while you haven’t been admittedly looking at him you couldn’t deny you always thought he was attractive, he’ll he was the face that flashed in your head when you reached your climax and you were ashamed of that fact. “Don’t lie bub, I seen how ya look at me through yer window, eyin me up N’ down like that” he speaks unconvinced with his accent peeking through the words he spoke.

“Just tell me what you’re doing here this late sir?” You don’t bother denying further just giving a sigh as you look up at Logan although you never caught his name, you never really spoke enough to ask it. “Logan, just call me that, I’m not your ‘sir’” Logan huffs as you look down at him noticing a bulge throbbing between his muscular thighs making a sticky spot of pre cum in his sweat pants, despite the cold weather he wore a tank top half opened with a flannel jacket you thought only a lumberjack would wear.

“You never answered my question Logan?” You raise a brow trying to seem firmer than you really were when you spoke. His nostrils flare a little when he sees your neck craning up to him making a audible groan leave his lips not waiting any further “always teasin me with them little f’ckin smiles and waves actin like a slut round me” he grabs you up the door behind him in your apartment slammed shut as you feel his face in your neck with his canines nibbling at your Adam’s apple “I wasn’t teasing you I was being a good neighbor—“ your voice cut off by your hand gripping and pulling at his hair making him let out what you thought were growls?

Pulling you all the way through the cabin with him eager to get you in a bed, him in the middle of rut going nearly insane from the smell of you. When he lays you down in the bed you look up at him confused why he was using all the pillows and blankets to surround you like a bird in its nest. “What are you doing?” You manage to speak out looking up at him when you start pulling your pajama pants down kicking them off past your ankles trying not to focus too much on his hairy pecs when he gets undressed “boxers off face down and ass up bub”

“Fine, fine” you muffle out as you roll over onto your stomach planting your knees in the mattress not even bothering to take off your shirt as you shove your face in the pillows wracking one hand back to pull your boxers down for him, your asscheeks exposed with your hole hidden between them making you shiver a little when you feel a rough hand pressed to your ass cheek pulling them apart showing off your pink bud as it winks at him.

Your cheeks reddening when you feel him leaning down his breath hot agaisnt your sensitive furl “don’t go shy on me now bub” he heaves out a little hurrying his face between your cheeks using his tongue eating you out like a starved man moving his jaw with his hands kneeling your ass cheeks til red making your cock press to your lower abdomen making it leak precum.

“Fuck Logan—“ you groan biting agaisnt your pillow making your eye go wide when you feel a sharp sizzle on your hips feeling his claws poking from his knuckles from how tight he gripped hold of your ass not letting you move as his tongue pushes past your rim licking and lapping your inner walls as his canines pinch at your inner asscheeks. “Mh- tastes so f’ckin good bubs”

Logan keeps pinching your asscheeks like a cat pawing at its bed with his claws barely poking from his knuckles poking your hips making shallow scratches while his tongue fucks your hole giving your inner walls a harsh lick. “Lo-gan keep doing that~” a mewl leaves your lips trying to press your thighs together failing as his head keeps them open.

“Hold still f’me” murmuring as his tongue works against you rim having your cock all hard between the bed and your stomach as you bite into the pillows arching your back and pressing your ass further into his face while your hands tug the corner of the sheets. Your hips loosely dripping blood from where his claws cut you, “can’t take it any more bubs” a rigid grunt escapes Logan as his spit runs down your thighs from the way he sloppily ate your ass.

“Fck’me logan~” you whine laying now almost as desperate as he was easing your ass as much as you can arching your back like a cat not even thinking of the pain your tender hips and asscheeks feel “I plan on it..” his hands move off your ass cheeks after delivering each one a harsh slap gripping your hips as he flips you back over on your back pulling the pillow from your mouth “ain’t you so fck’n hard bubs?”he murmurs pulling his sweatpants off revealing no boxers with his cock hard covered in brown pubic hair leaking precum from his tip as he leans down between your thighs pressing his lips on yours practically eating your face off making you feel his beard scratching at your chin.

Your cocks pressed together between both of your stomachs rubbing as he rocks his hips forward in a humping motion kissing you between grunts holding hold of your hips where his claws broke skin “ready fer me?” He huffs out moving his hand down further to your thigh while he lifts one of them up on his hip before hoisting it up on his shoulder making his cock snake between your cheeks nudging your rim teasingly but never pushing in.

“I’m- ready Logan” you nod hazily batting your lashes up at him nosing a little too eagerly hook your other leg around his hip while he slides his hand down your thigh rubbing your ankle with his other hand placed firm on your hip “fck—yer so tight bubs” a pant leaves his lip when he pushes his cock into you with it resting heavy agaisnt your prostate making you arch your back biting on your lip looking up at him “oh—hm!” A moan escaped your throat as you feel his hairy stomach pressed down on your cock while he lays on top of you bending your body in half using his hands to hoist up your other thigh for a better shot at your prostate.

“Fuuck” a long groan escapes Logan’s mouth as he grunts shoveling his face in the side of your neck using his canines to bite at it holding your ankles tightly as he starts to circle his hips fucking you into the sheets making your hand move from the bedsheets to his hair “m—more Logan” you spoke right in his ear all whiny and high pitched with your bud trying to clench tighter around him harshly as your gummy walls heat like a vice around the mutants dick, his teeth marking your skin showing his rut as he grounds his hips into you harshly “like that bub? Hm? Fck’n tell me how my dick feels” he huffs out all animalistic starting to pick his pace up making you dig your nails into his back with your legs bent over his shoulders bouncing and swaying back and forth with the force of his thrusts.

“Feels good Logan!—oh god~” you gasp beneath him your body bent in half under the older mutants weight with the bed in your cabin creaking filling the room with the sound of skin on skin as your ass cheeks get all rosy from the constant abuse his hips give them. “Tight bub, so fck’n tight” he growls right into your neck making your eyes roll back not minding the feral man on top of you as you use one hand clawing his back and the other in his hair feeling his beard in the crook of your neck while he makes out with it messily snapping his hips stretching you open over and over with his cock head assaulting your prostate surely bruising your sensitive bundle of nerves

He reaches his hand off your thighs moving around between them as he holds them around his hips and pulls up your t shirt just watching your pecs bouncing back and forth with his thrusts before he just shoves his face in them and starts sucking at your right nipple groping your left pec as he rapidly thrusts his hips “Fuck look at those tits bubs, so fuckin pretty~”. Logan heaves out rubbing his now sweaty body to yours like a wolf trying to rub its scent on its mate, You have no time to protest his choice of words feeling your thighs tremble and a loud mewl leave your lips when his cock hits your sweet spot straight on making a coil of heat radiate in your stomach straight to your cock as it pulses.

“I’m cl—ose Logan!” You choke out your eyes glossing up as you hold his hair tighter gripping hold of his back for dear life with your thighs now wrapped fully around his hips holding him deep inside yourself as you stare up at the Celine in your cabin feeling his mouth biting at your nipple his large hand groping at the other “cum, cum for me bubs” a rumble falls from his throat pulling his cock fully put before slamming back into you making his claws come out of his knuckles breaking skin on your left pec making a hot sting break through your body pushing you over your edge.

“Hng~! Haah—“ your hand loosens in his hair and on his back losing your grip going totally limp under him letting your vision blur with your tears and bliss as your cock squirts hot semen on Logan’s stomach with a harsh spasm emptying yourself out as the cock inside your ass keeps moving and violating your insides rearranging your guts. Your thighs quivering around him feeling the Wolverine groaning against your chest leaving it as sore as your clawed up hips.

“Right there with ya bub..” panting on top of you with his full bod weight between your thighs while your inner walls clench and unclench around him over and over in aftershock from your own high as he starts thrusting out of pace collapsing on top of you trembling “ga’dd amm baby” he groans not even bothering to pull out wanting you filled up with every essence of him as he lets the molten liquid paint your prostrate “mh so warm-!” A pout coming from you as you reach your hand back down weakly petting at his head feeling your stomach grow all warm from his cum.

“..thanks Fer that bub..” he murmurs out planting a few soft kisses on your swollen nipples then one on the cut his claw like blades made in your skin. “No problem Logan, although I’ll be expecting a date before you fuck me next time” you hazily speak looking down at his face in your chest watching him before you feel him rusting around in the sheets with the best he made earlier half fallen apart from the sex. “I think I can manage that, now where are the rags we needa get’cha you cleaned up” he cracks a rare grin showing off those pearly canines to you making a slight pout when his cock slides out of you leaving your walls trying to clamp around the air, your rim as red as your cheeks all puffy leaking his seed into your sheets.

“Top drawer to the left Logan…” you muffle out trying to adjust yourself in the now empty bed rolling over on your stomach laying with your arms folded under your chin looking as Logan walks still naked grabbing a rag from the bathroom cabinet as you stare the best you can at his muscular thighs and happy trail. “Stop eye fucking me you litter whore” he grumbles out walking back into the room with the wet towel sitting down on the edge of the bed using the damp wash clothe to wipe off the cum from around your rim as it leaked making you shiver at the feeling, his hands working and wiping off the dried droplets of blood from the cuts on your hips.

“Right sorry” You mumble out as you crawl over to him after he throws the rag to your floor discarding it for the night as he grabs you pulling you closer under his arm not mind his underarm hair while you lean your head down into his hairy chest grabbing one of the blankets from his makeshift nest as you curl up in it snuggling with the older mutant while he presses his chin to the top of your head “think we should do this a’gain bubs” he hums with a gravely voice.

[saphirafoxgirlspost1]

(Open Rp) Nezha Reborn in "Lady Fox"

Long Ago After the Battles Against heavens and Journey to the west, Sun wukong and saphira are happily Together Once more after Sun wukong Woke her from her Deathly Sleep curse.. But when they comes out Nezha Challenge him for a battle..but During the battle, She Begged Nezha because She doesn't want to lose him again so nezha spared him but then the Dragon king of the eastern sea was Having none of it and Sent his Son Name "Ao Bing" to Kill sun wukong, but he was Killed by Nezha who is protecting Sun Wukong and Saphira By ripping Ao Bings spine out. Two Lovers Head out to Safety at Sakutopia but Sun wukong Knows That Saphira will be in grave Danger again and the Dragon king will put her a terrible curse again, So he told her that He must go and Fight to protect Her but Saphira begged him not to go and then He Said that he Promise to sent her gifts every day to let her know that He's alright. After he Left, Saphira was Devastated and heartbroken While the Dragon king Had Saw it and Made a Devious plan to keep Sun wukong and Saphira Separate By Making a Letter of Sun wukongs death and immortality been taken away.. Then one day, Saphira receive That letter and her heart is broken after she read that her beloved Monkey king was dead, She collapsed on the ground and crying Out of her broken heart but every day she receive gifts every day and she thought his ghost brought it.. As 30 years has passed in the celestial world and Saphira was Sent by her Father to the City called "Donghai" where She lives in Luxury and perform beautifully at the Palace of Happiness.. That night, when she sings She sees the strange person with a mask watching her out from the window. After the Performance, She was Invited to Meet with Au Guang the Dragon king of east sea, She founded it out that sun Wukong is alive.. Then That Morning, She meet with Au guang and his Son and she said,

Saphira: "You've got some nerve Invited me here after everything you put me Through, and I was Wondering. What brings me here to your Lovely Kingdom?"

Au Guang: "Ah Princess Saphira, I am aware of what I did to you and your Beloved one. So as For that Question, I have a Proposal for you to marry my son.. I was thinking that You've been Mourn your beloved Monkey King For too Long so I was thinking that It's time to be married someone else, Right Son?"

Ao Bing comes to her and looking at her up and down while Saphira made a disgust look and she said,

Saphira: "What Made you think that I will Marry Your Son After YOU sent him to kill my Love before His ass was Killed by Nezha?"

Au Guang: went stern, expression harden "My dear That was a Long time ago, Time has changed and all heh.. My dear Your Grief needs to let go I-"

Saphira began to cut off

Saphira: "Then Why did you Lie to me about Sun Wukongs death?!"

Au Gaung, Ao bing and His Minion froze as Saphira realized That Au Guang DID Lie to her about Sun wukongs Death and She knew it.

Saphira: "If Sun Wukong was dead as you Claim, then Why did I receive Gifts Every day For 30,000 years, 30 years in my Celestial realm! YOU KNEW HE'S ALIVE, WHERE IS HE!? Where's Sun wukong!?"

Saphira Shouted in Defiance..as She heard the Sound of Cane Slammed by Au Guang and She Froze, her breathing is Steady and then Au Guang Use the Enchanted red ribbon and Holds her down as she screams, Struggling to break free but then Au guang use his mechanical hand began to place saphira a Curse and he told her that This time Only he will be dead and No true loves kiss can break this time and he said that Saphira Will become a little White Fox by day and a beautiful Woman By Night..Then The black smoke went around her and Change her into a beautiful Little White Fox as His Minions laugh about it And before Au Guang Say anything, Saphira made a Hasty Escape and runs out of the Building as Au guang told his Boys to after that White Fox but Saphira was So swift as She runs to the Poverty Area where She sees alot of poor people and all, She felt heart broken and all they needed was water and all.. When she made it to the warehouse area, She accidentally Bumped into A young Motor Biker name "Li Yunxiang", in her eyes she saw Nezha in him But then one of His Buddies picked Her up by the scruff and said…

[lostinlovingrevery]

Whistleblower

Weapon X! Logan X F! Reader

A/N: This is really different from what I usually write but I had this idea and I wanted to get it out there. I MAY make a smutty alt of this lol...

Plot: You're a doctor recruited to work at the research base Lake Alkali, where you eventually become the whistleblower on the immoral experiments used on mutants held inside, one particular man being the reason you finally spilled the secrets....

Warnings: Canon typical violence, blood, mentions of experiments, descriptions that could be a lil disturbing? reader get attacked (not by Logan teehee), reader is a mutant but no powers mentioned, reader feels bad for Logan lol, more of a plot based fic with some future romance implied?

Word Count: 4k+!

Fingers tapped rhythmically against a stack of papers. Jazz played in the background. A hot cup of tea, slowly cooling off as it becomes forgotten. 

You were sitting in your shabby little broom closet of an office. A ceiling light flickers above you. Filing cabinets stuffed full of documents and manilla folders lined the walls. A laptop sat on your desk, open to an email that you have typed out, attached to the email was files, and pictures.

Lots of pictures.

You looked up, at a shitty motivational picture of a person looking at a landscape of a mountain, and a quote plastered in bold text at the bottom, 

“AN IDEA WITHOUT ACTION IS NOTHING”

You had an idea. 

Whether you were brave enough to take action is the issue.

You’re a doctor. A scientist. Majored in medicine, and went back to grad school for biology, and even dabbled in some psychology. Your name was… controversial. Your studies and research revolved around mutants, and supported mutants. You have been torn down by other scientists, doctors, and even colleagues for your work. You didn’t care.

 A few years later your work got noticed by some higher-up government officials.  Another scientist by the name of William Stryker recruited you into his mission. A top secret base located at the beautiful and scenic lake Alkali. You were told that you would be helping the future of mutants and humans alike.

That was a fucking lie.

Initially, you didn’t know anything. You were moved onto the base, given your own personal quarters, something with a bedroom and bathroom and a space big enough to be a living area. You were given small amounts of clearance. You had weekends off. It was a 1 year contract.

 Your job at first was to check the physicals and health statuses of soldiers, give out flu shots, and occasionally run a physical on a “volunteer” for the experiment programs they ran in the base, experiments you didn’t have clearance on. You didn’t think anything of it at first, everything you saw seemed clean, and people were treated with respect. Time went on and suppose they began to trust your persons, so you moved up the ladder and took part in studies that were more your style. That’s when you began to feel like something was wrong.

Some of the research didn’t feel…ethical. It felt that the mutants were being treated like..animals. They talked about them like animals. At face level, the people who came in were volunteers- participating in studies in the name of science, sometimes a monetary reward was offered. Then you would notice that said volunteers never officially left. 

It was when you did some snooping around that you discovered some horrific truths. You found files, pictures, classified things that weren’t meant for your eyes. You were caught- of course you were caught. This was a top secret government research base. There were eyes everywhere. 

You were taken to Stryker, who gave you a firm lecture- as if he was scolding a child. He then asked you if you were still wanting to stay a part of the research team. He had noticed your wonderful work ethic, and your bright mind. Thought you’d do great to help out. He also implied your inevitable murder if you were to say no.

You said yes.

Not because of the bullshit excuse of “This is for the best of humanity and mutant-kind”. To perform immoral and cruel experiments on mutants in the name of discovery and America. Fuck that. You were smart, you had ambition. You also had empathy and a moral compass, unlike these arrogant pricks. 

They didn’t know you were a mutant too- at least, they never implied they did. Not that it matters. You were raised to be accepting of everyone, to treat people with kindness, to lend a hand. That’s why you became a doctor. You were half tempted to use your powers to create a rebellion, take the place out. There were too many people though, all prepared, they had weapons and tools meant for controlling mutants and subduing them. It would be over before it started. You weren’t exactly a fighter, even though your powers were strong, but you were clever.

You reread the email you have written out for the millionth time. You used a fake email. You had multiple VPNs and several other spyware you installed in an attempt to hide where the email came from. Honestly, though, it probably wouldn’t matter. They’ll know it’s you the second you hit send. They’ll come in, knock you out, and use you for their sick experiments too. 

Perhaps though, if this email goes to the person you’re hoping it does. Maybe it won’t take so long. It won’t be so bad.

You agreed to stay for a reason. For information. For evidence. You had to be careful of your reactions, of your words. They watched your every move. Looking for signs of any infractions against them. It took time but you earned the trust of the staff and the mutants. 

You were kind, you provided comfort to them. You whispered promises that you will help them and that they will be free. All the while you took discreet photos and made copies of files and reports secretly. You’ve been storing them in the vent next to you; you made a secret compartment inside so that when the head of security comes in for their monthly inspections they never find anything. Chief Hanlon. That guy is a huge dick. 

You thought back to the faces you’ve come to know. People with tortured eyes and permanent scars. It tugged at your heart. You felt guilty, for ever taking part in something like this, for ever agreeing to come to this hellish place.

The next face you think of is what pushes you to hit send. 

“Weapon X-” 

Dr. Stryker was walking you down a long, poorly lit, concrete corridor, guarded by men in military gear, holding assault rifles- all of them eyeing you suspiciously. Stryker was walking with a cocky smile and a swagger. It was 2 weeks ago, before you had been pushed to finally compile your evidence and find someone who could help you.

“My biggest achievement in my career.” He continues. You both stopped at the end of the corridor, and he punched a code into the keypad. The metal doors open, and you step into a large room. Surrounded by large machinery, scientists, and guarded personnel, sat a huge glass tube, filled with some kind of substance, and a man who sat suspended inside it. He motioned to the tube, almost like he was presenting it grandly to you. “My pride and joy.” 

It made you sick to your stomach at the sight. He was suspended in the tube- floating in the clear liquid-like substance. He had no clothing on, and you could make out the tense muscles of his body. Despite his burly appearance, he looked unhealthy- his skin was pale, his hair grown out, wild and untamed, from his head, down to his chin, his beard scruffy and long as well. Even his stomach seemed sunken in. 

Are they even feeding him?

 The metal wires that were attached to his skin went in various places, his arms, his chest, his legs, and his head. The Holter monitor at the bottom that sat in front of you reads his heart rate; It was faster than it should be for an average person. You made out dog tags around his neck- the only article of clothing on him. There was a large oxygen mask, covering his nose and mouth. 

His eyes were open- and staring at you. 

“A soldier I met in Vietnam. He’s a mutant- obviously, claw-like appendages that protrude from his fist.” Stryker explains. “He has an extraordinary ability to heal. He can recover from anything- bullets, stabbings, broken bones. He has heightened senses, incredible strength, and a fierce rage, making him the strongest weapon in the world.” He says proudly. “A few years ago, I convinced him to partake in an experiment that bound adamantium metal to his bones. He’s indestructible.” 

You swallowed, not taking your eyes off of him. This poor man, what must he feel? How much pain is he in?

“The machine keeps his body supported and alive, but the substance- something I invented- keeps him frozen in place, which is why the machine is needed. He wouldn’t be able to breathe, no heartbeat or anything. He’s come back from death plenty of times, we’ve researched that- but we rather not risk fully killing him, y’know?” Stryker laughs. You grimaced at him, your eyes turning to look at the man, examining his body - that’s when you saw the twitch of his pinky. 

Didn’t Stryker say he was frozen in place?

“What’s his name?”

“Name?” Stryker says, a bit surprised at your question. “Logan.” 

You were glad to have a name for the face. Calling him Weapon X, felt nothing but wrong.

“What is his…purpose?” You ask, tearing your eyes away, not mentioning the twitch. You knew what Stryker would say. 

“We use him to carry out missions that cannot be failed,” Stryker says. “He’s nearly impossible to control, hence why we keep him in this- and when we send him out, he’s equipped with a helmet that helps us keep track of his whereabouts and sends signals to tell him what to do.”

“Mind control?” You asked. You use him to kill people.

“Kinda.” He says, turning to the computer and typing in a few things. “Your job here will be just to monitor his vitals. We noticed spikes in heart rates and blood pressure lately. Rare moments, but something we’d like to keep an eye on. If it gets worse, you’ll be tasked to come up with a solution. He’s too valuable to lose.” 

You nodded. You could still feel Logan staring at you. 

After Stryker finished explaining everything, you were sent back to your day. Logan's face lingered in your head. The way his eyes stared at you. What was he thinking?

It was that night you began looking for help. Your mind would wrack through people you have met through your years when you remembered someone- someone from when you were in college. A kind man, who approached you regarding your paper of mutant psychology. A paper you wrote in research regarding how mutant lifestyles can be affected by their powers. It was widely controversial, considering mutants weren’t- and still aren’t- quite accepted in your society. Your peers and professors had tried to sway you from writing it, but you refused, not caring about the consequences. Mutants were forever treated as evil people, the news constantly reported the “bad” mutants. Nevermind the fact that there were still plenty out there, living normal lives. 

The man wanted to know more about you, your paper, and what you wanted to do after college. He confided in you that he had a school for mutants and invited you to come see it. At the time, you were too busy- but you always kept his card. You didn’t know how or why- but something about him told you that maybe he could help. You prayed to whatever God was out there, that this man, 

Charles Xavier

Could help you, Logan, and the others who were trapped here. 

After that, you spent the next week discreetly putting together everything to send to Charles. Anxiety wracked your head. What if he can’t help, what if he doesn’t help? Maybe he confided in his secret school of mutants, but what if he was just like Stryker and it was all a sham? 

You were doing your usual responsibilities when you went to check on Logan. It was two weeks ago today that you were in charge of monitoring his health. Your intuition told you that his spiked heart rates, the twitch of his pinky, and the way his eyes watched your movements- even though he shouldn’t be able to move at all, were not a coincidence or a sign of a failing health state. 

It was just you and a few guards that were stationed at the door.  You were observing the latest changes over the last 24 hours. The two guards were silent, and then one of them started talking, bringing up some workplace gossip.

“Hey, y’know, me and Miranda, we got a date Saturday night.” 

“Shit, she said yes to your dumbass?” 

“Man fuck you.” 

They were talking, and distracted. You turned to scowl at them, which they didn’t notice, both facing each other wrapped up in their own conversation. You looked back at the monitor, tapping your fingers on the table when you noticed movement. Your eyes glanced upwards, and you noticed the twitch of his toe. You looked farther up and his eyes were staring down at you. 

You looked back at the guards. Hesitating before silently standing up and moving closer to the tube. Your hand went up to the glass and gently pressed. You looked back at the guards once more, still gossiping and distracted. You looked up at Logan. Staring right into his eyes, and you mouthed to him, 

“I’ll get you out of here”

You’re not even sure if he would have understood you, if he could lipread. The others say his mind was too far gone to understand what’s going on around him, and the helmet is what gives him directions. They called him an animal.

“He’s a man. Not an animal.” You corrected them. They simply stared at you. You could feel their silent judgments. Has everyone lost their humanity here? How could you look at him and not see a person?

The way his eyes moved- staring at you, you felt there was something there, someone there. He was thinking. He was observing. You wanted him to know you were on his side. 

You had no other choice at this point. You were at your wit's end. Who cares about your safety, your own life if you get caught. These people deserved better. 

Now back in your office, you sent the email. Hopefully, Charles is good about checking his email- that he knew what to do, or you and everyone else here is fucked. You went to bed that night, unable to sleep, Logan’s eyes tearing through your mind. 

You walk on eggshells for three days, waiting for the moment someone confronts you, for them to break into your room and stick a bag over your head and throw you into a jail cell where you get to await whatever Stryker thinks you’ll be good for. 

You were starting to wonder if anything was going to happen, while you were sitting at your desk once again in your little office. Filling out various medical files- one on a woman who had snow-like powers. Stryker had ideas to use her against hot and dry environments, turn them frigid cold, in order to incapacitate enemies who were prepared for hot weather. At one point you believed this research wasn’t about warfare, or violence. You thought you would be helping mutants, understanding what made you, you. How you managed to let the wool go over your eyes you didn’t know. 

The blare of the alarm startled you out of your thoughts. Announcements of guards and soldiers to get into position, alerts of intruders coming to the base. 

You thought you were going to puke. 

You got up from your chair, unsure of what to do. Another announcement told staff to stay where they were. You tapped your fingers on the desk behind you as your brain wracked for ideas, should you go out and see what’s happening? Who were these intruders? 

Maybe it had something to do with the whistleblower email you sent several days ago.

You could hear footsteps of soldiers running down the hall past your door. 

What if this is my chance?

You could help them escape the mutants. The soldiers, the security, they were distracted by whoever was attacking - people you hoped were on your side. You knew the codes, you could fight a little bit yourself- even if it wasn’t your preference. You grabbed your lab coat off your chair, making sure your badge was still attached for access, throwing it on and you opened the door, peeking out into the hallway- empty.

Your heels clacked on the floor as you ran down the maze like hallways that you’ve become familiar with the last 6 months towards the elevators. The lights shut off suddenly, leaving you in darkness until emergency lights kicked on. The alarms were off now. The only thing you could hear was faint gunshots happening thankfully far away from you. 

You could barely see, the red lights of the elevators and stairway signs led you to the direction you wanted to be in. You carefully walked towards them, your heels clicking against the tiled floor as you went to the stairway door, pushing it open. 

Soft orange glow lit up the otherwise dark and very cold stairway. You could hear more gunfire. You turned to look back at the hall you came from, searching for any signs of people that may have been around, before going into the stairway, and climbing down the stairs.

With the power off, the captive mutants are likely escaping themselves already, which may explain the occasional gunfire. People fighting back you can only assume. If they’re fighting, you’re going to fight with them. 

You carefully made your way down the stairs, cautious to not trip due to the lack of lighting. You reached the floor that would lead you to the captive mutants. Your mind wandered to Logan. He was a few floors down. Maybe you can help him too?

You chose to go farther down the stairs. You had to do something. How could you not? 

You reached the floor you wanted to reach, and carefully pushed the door open, peeking out into the hall. Only small red emergency lights lit the dark empty halls, but they provided enough light for you to make out multiple bodies strewn across the floor. They were still, unmoving, and against your better judgment, you moved inside into the hall, checking one of the bodies.

It was one of the soldiers that usually stood guard in Logan's room. You kneeled down to check his pulse. No pulse.

Your heart was beating out of your chest, as you carefully walked down the hall, checking each body for pulses. You may have thought everyone who worked here was scum - but you were still a doctor and if there was something you could do, you would do it. 

After the 5th body you could confirm was dead, you quickly walked down the hall to Logan’s room. The door was wide open - and you could see from where you were, the tube that kept Logan immobile and suspended was broken apart. The substance that kept him frozen was leaking into a large puddle on the ground- where you could barely make out several more bodies on the floor. 

He was free

Judging by the state of the soldiers, you’re not sure if that’ll be a good thing for you. 

You took a couple of steps back, only to feel a hand on your shoulder, swinging you around- you felt a sharp punch to your face, knocking you harshly to the ground. Pain radiated from your nose down to your jaw, and you felt blood trickling down your nose over your lip as you brought a hand up to it. Looking up fearfully, you recognized him, the chief of security.

“You bitch.” He hissed, fists clenched at his side. “You fucking did this didn’t you? I told Stryker you couldn’t be trusted. I should have put a bullet in your head when I caught you sneaking around the first time.”

“No-!” You yelped as he reached down, hand against your throat and pinning you to the floor, your head banging against the concrete making you yelp in pain. You clawed at his arm, kicking your legs in an attempt to get free as you felt his fingers tighten against your throat. You looked up at your attacker, his eyes furrowed, as he gritted his teeth, squeezing your throat tighter as you began to gasp for air- your chest growing tight.

In a flash, you heard a scream, and something warm and wet splatter on your. His hand was gone, and you watched in horror as he was lifted into the air, sharp metal points sticking out through his chest, and you saw Logan, holding him up in the air- a sharp snarl escaping him.

You heard a snikt! And you crawled away as the chief's body fell to the ground. Your heart pounding out of your chest, tears fell down your face, as a shaky breath escaped you- looking up at the towering and terrifying presence that now stood above you.

The red light illuminated him, making him look almost devilish. He was hunched, hands in fists, covered in blood, completely naked. There were a few wires hanging haphazardly from his arms and legs - and the helmet, the one you assumed is the one they use to control him. 

They’re not controlling him now, are they?

You waited, waited for him to kill you next. Surely he will?

He straightened himself, a scowl on his face as his nostrils flared, his chest heaving with deep breaths. He stared into your eyes. You swallowed, and pushed yourself up from the ground. Your body was shaking, and you stepped forward towards him, over the body of Hanlon. 

“Logan?” You said his name, your voice hoarse, and cracked. He didn’t say anything, just stared at you. You blinked a few times, and you reached your hands up, they’re shaky and unsteady, but you reached towards him- to the helmet.

He flinched back a moment, before stopping, letting you do whatever you were going to do. His eyes unceasing their hard stare, his nostrils flaring with every breath- making you nervous that those famous claws you’ve heard about - and just seen in action are going to make their appearance and turn you into a shish kebab. 

He didn’t do anything, and you finally made contact with the cold metal. You could feel the heat radiating off his skin, as your fingers found bolts and clips, undoing each one until the helmet came loose from his skull. 

You saw relief flood his eyes, his hands reaching up as you slowly moved yours back, returning them to your side shaky as ever, as he pulled the helmet off and dropped it to the ground. 

He blinked a few times, looking around, a small breath of relief escaping him before looking at you again. 

You both stood there, unsure what to do next.

1 Year Later

Your fingers nervously tapped along the files in your lap. Your leg crossed over the other as you sat on the very uncomfortable chair provided to you while you waited. You laid your hands flat across the folder, as anxiety twisted in your gut. 

“Nervous?” 

The voice drew you out of your anxious thoughts as you looked up and smiled.

Logan stood there in front of you, clean, healthy, happy. He wore a clean dress suit, his hair slicked back, and his beard trimmed. He gave you a thin lipped smile, his eyes regarding you with softness. 

It had been a long year to get to where he was, with you there to support him as best as you could.  

It was Charles Xavier's people who came and caused chaos at the base. A group called the X-men, a group of talented and powerful mutants who work in the name of helping mutants- which is right up your alley. You- nor Logan didn’t join right away, but accepted Charles' invitation to stay at his school, alongside other mutants who were rescued, in order to wait for the dust to settle. 

The dust was finally settling. Stryker and his men were on trial before congress. You were the piece to finally put things to rest. The evidence you compiled, the things you witnessed. You were about to go before congress, and speak on the behalf of mutants that had become victims to Stryker. 

You stood up from your chair, hugging your files to your chest. “A little bit.”

“Don’t be, you’ll do great.” He says. “You always stood your ground about things like this. Just cause it’s a bunch of assholes in Washington don’t make it any different.”  

You got to know Logan, who he was. He became someone you admired like no other. He rose up from the trauma and pain he suffered in Alkali, refusing to let it harden him. He was still a bit rough around the edges- but for you he was soft. 

During his time in Lake Alkali, he was waiting for a chance to escape. The scientist said he couldn’t think clearly but it was far from the truth. The only time he went into an animalistic haze was when the helmet was on- it blocked his vision and his senses, made his brain fuzzy. 

When the X-men breached the dam, they were about to let Logan out to wreak havoc on the intruders. They put the helmet on him and he managed to keep himself together that time- escaping and slaughtering guards along the way. It was hard, it set his teeth on edge, it made him confused, unsure of what he was doing.

It was you that kept him from losing himself again. He heard your heartbeat, and your cry when Hanlon punched you. You removing the helmet was the final step for his freedom.

“I just hope it’s enough. You know politicians, how they are. You saw how they treated Jean.” You frowned, your eyebrows furrowing.

“You’ll convince them bub.  Quite worrying.” He says. His hand reached out, placing over your arm, his thumb running across your skin in a soothing motion. You nodded, attempting to let his reassurance calm your nerves. “After this, we’ll get some lunch, yeah?” 

You smiled and nodded, Logan paused, observing you before he stepped closer. It made your breath hitch, his proximity to you, your nerves becoming more worried about him now, instead of the trial. Lately, you and Logan's friendship that has formed over the last year has felt to be turning into something more. You weren’t quite sure what yet, and Logan didn’t seem to know either. 

You had an idea though.

The door behind you opened. 

“Ma’am? They’re ready for you.” A young man greets you and you nodded, looking back at Logan. He smiled supportively, and you quickly leaned up to kiss his cheek, before turning to walk into the room. 

“Wish me luck.” You called after you, before the door shut behind you, leaving Logan alone in the hall, as he stuffed his hands in his pockets, thinking about how nice your lips felt on his cheek.

You were led to a desk, where the young man- you believed to be an intern pulled the chair out for you allowing you to sit. You quietly thanked him, smoothing your skirt out and setting the papers you were holding on the desk, you looked up and stared at a room full of men in suits. 

“You are here today to present evidence before congress against Dr. William Stryker, as well as numerous other names in this trial. Do you have that evidence before you?” 

You opened one of the files, and one of the first things you see is a picture of Logan. Weapon X. It made you sick to remember him like that. You looked up, lips pulled tight, eyes filled with determination.

“Yes.”

[fluentmoviequoter]

The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly

Part 3/3 of my sweet, soft Tim miniseries!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!rookie!reader

Summary: Tim Bradford cares more about you, his boot, than he should. He kisses you off-duty and you both decide to hide your new relationship.

Warnings: fluff, a little angst, incorrect (and improbable) police procedure

Word Count: 1.3k+ words

A/N: Thanks for the love on this miniseries! And extra special thanks again to @elephants-bubbles-brachosauruses and @writings-of-a-demigod!

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

Tim told you on your first day that personal lives have no business in your professional police life. That was before he kissed you after hours and admitted that he was falling in love with you. It still shocks you when you relive it, which you’ve done for most of the morning. Tim seemed like the perfect, most rule-abiding TO at Mid-Wilshire. As he walks into roll call, you duck your chin.

He sits directly behind you and mumbles, “Welcome to the ugly. Until we’re in a position where this doesn’t get us both fired, learn to keep that line solid.”

You nod. The line between professional and private disappeared completely last night as you lost sight of everything except Tim. Even now, hours later, your mind wants to think of nothing except Tim, Tim, Tim, and the kiss he gave you last night. But you’re trapped between a rock and a hard place, in a lie, and dependent on the truth. So, you have to balance the different areas of your life, and now the ugly has spread from the crimes you stop to your answer about why you wear the uniform.

“Good morning,” Wade greets as he walks to his podium. “Rookies, what day is it?”

“Test day,” you answer with your fellow boots.

“That’s right. So, you’ll work the first six hours of your shift, then come back here for the written and oral examinations. Which means your TO is going to stick to easy calls. Right, Bradford?”

“Yes, sir,” Tim says.

“Good. Then get out there and don’t stress too much. 80 is passing.”

You stand after Wade leaves the room. Tim makes eye contact with you, and you nod. It will be a long day, and as your mind swings from thinking about Tim to worrying about your test, you aren’t sure if you can survive the ugly. Worse, it’s only just beginning.

Last Night

“Tim!” you call as you jog toward him.

Tim stops beside his truck and turns to face you. He furrows his brows as he waits for you to speak, though seeing you in civvies takes him back to the dream he hasn’t told you about.

“I- I’m sorry for keeping you, but… what are my chances? Really?” you inquire softly.

“Of passing? They’re great, you don’t have anything to be worried about,” Tim assures.

“And you?”

“I’ll give you the recommendation and reports you deserve.”

“No, I mean… I don’t know what I mean.”

You step back and drop your eyes, but Tim reaches out. He stops you with a gentle hand on your shoulder and waits until your eyes reach his. The concerned look in his eyes makes the emotions you’re already struggling with strengthen into a raging storm that you can’t control.

“Let’s go somewhere to talk,” Tim says. “Your choice.”

You say the name of your favorite restaurant, and Tim nods as his hand slides from your arm. He says he’ll meet you there, and you wonder if this is how the bad ends. Then you remember what comes after. When Tim brought up the good, the bad, and the ugly, you didn’t imagine it taking over your life and every thought like this.

After you park outside the restaurant, Tim walks to your car and opens your door. He blocks your path, keeping you in your seat.

“What are you really worried about?” he asks, leaning toward you with one hand braced on the top of your car.

“Um,” you mumble.

“You can talk to me.”

“I don’t want to mess this up, but I don’t know what to do.”

“About your future or me?”

You look up into Tim’s eyes. They’re free from condescension or anger, only concern and an inquisitive glint. He’s asking as a person, not your TO.

“You,” you admit. “I like you, Tim, and I don’t know how much longer I can keep everything bottled up. Even though I know I’m putting my career and yours at risk.”

Tim moves his hand from the side of your door to your chin. He tilts your face up toward his and smiles.

“Then I guess we’ll have to keep this between us,” he says.

Your mind and emotions are overcome when Tim kisses you. He’s all that you can think of, and though you know it’s wrong and could bring about the ugly you desperately wish to avoid, you don’t want to stop kissing him.

Present Day

Grey calls your name from his office as you exit the locker room. “A word?”

Once you’re seated and his door is closed, Wade sighs. He sits across from you and opens a folder with your name.

“I have your grade and the reports of your oral test. The examiners had a lot to say about you,” he explains.

“Oh,” you reply. “I- I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything yet. Your score is tied with the station record for highest ever achieved, you set a new record for the oral portion, and the chief wants to offer you a golden ticket. When you came in, I knew you had potential, and I knew you’d find it working with Bradford. But this? You succeeded even my high expectations.”

“A golden ticket?”

“That’s right. You can pick your career, not many rookies get chances like this so soon. Plus, you can decide to never see Bradford again if you transfer the right way.”

Wade chuckles at his own joke, but you have another idea in mind.

“Can I ask a hypothetical?” you ask.

“Does it have to do with the looks you and Bradford give each other?” he responds. “Because if it does, we can file with IA now and get you out of his chain of command. There wouldn’t be any problem with a relationship in that case.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t tell anyone until tomorrow, okay? Congratulations, officer.”

You shake Wade’s hand before you leave. Telling Tim the news is the only thing you want to do, but as you walk out of the station, you know you’ll have to avoid him tonight.

“How are you going to use your golden ticket?” Tim asks after roll call.

“I haven’t decided yet. Somewhere far outside of your chain of command, I think,” you answer.

“That eager to get away from me?”

“The opposite. I found us a way out of the ugly.”

Tim looks around, then steps into your space. “Do not choose a career that you don’t truly want in an effort to be personally happy. The lines are separate, but they affect one another. It’s not worth-“

“Tim,” you interrupt. “I know what I want, and I’m going to do it. But I want you, this, us, too. No matter how ugly things get along the way.”

“You’re too good,” Tim murmurs.

“For what?”

“All of it.”

You shake your head, and Tim tilts his head to direct you around a corner. Out of the open, he kisses you quickly.

“I was wrong,” he whispers as you pull back.

“About?” you reply.

“The ugly is just what we deal with. It’s always there, but with you… You make it all good.”

“At least I didn’t get a machete to the hand this time,” you joke.

Tim makes a disappointed sound, then raises his hand to either side of your neck to kiss you again. He’s right; no matter how ugly things get during your shift, having him at your side or watching your back makes it all good. The bad is past, and it only gets better from here.

“Good thing I alerted the higher ups already.”

You pull away from Tim quickly and apologize sheepishly to Wade for the public affection. He brushes it off as a celebration before he hands you the completed paperwork for your golden ticket transfer. Tim wishes you luck, but you know it will turn out good.

[bluee08]

Astro Observations 《2》

Disclaimer : I am not an astrologer so please take these observations with a grain of salt. Plus I have noticed, I ranted a lot here so please bear with me. It's only for fun.

♦️ Mercury could indicate what kind of genre/content you like to read. For example:

Mercury in Taurus/2nd – Cookbook, rom-com, finance, fashion magazines.

Mercury in Leo/5th – Children's story books, Tales, quizzes, riddles, Adventures books.

Mercury in libra/7th – Romance novels, fashion magazines, pamphlets, brochures.

Mercury in Scorpio/8th – Non-fiction, Thrillers, mystery, smut.

Mercury in Sagittarius/9th – Encyclopedia, Rom-adventure, historical books, Atlas.

Mercury in Pisces/12th – Spiritual books, inspirational, Autobiographies.

♥️ Pluto in 11th house is a big Best friend crisis placement, if you ask me. In this, you can never be anyone's only bestfriend and no one can be your bestfriend. Friends are a lessons in your life. They come, you transform each other in some way, they go. Nobody stays long enough. Their definition of best friends is tricky, because– "We have known each other for 6 years but we haven't talked since 3 years, are we still besties?" To these people, Instead of feeling betrayed or petty, accept it and move on.

♦️ People with Asteroid hobby in their 11th house might like to do coding or other technical work. Technology and social media plays a major role when they are free. They might even share their hobbies with others on social platforms.

♥️ No matter what the reputation says, Sagittarius venus are the most hardcore lovers. They also don't mind a bit of possessiveness in the relationship. When I say possessiveness, they don't want to hear how you will lock them up in a castle for the rest of their life if they try to run away from you. Whereas, that might be a fantasy for some but its not for Sag venus. They will purposely take the next immediate flight and be gone for good. What they actually want to hear is how you will chase them to the moon and back. And no matter where they go, you will always be there to embrace them with your open arms. All we Sagittarius people need is to feel grounded not caged.

♦️ Asteroid Lie aspecting Neptune could make very imaginative and fluent liars. Sometimes it won't make any sense but you will still believe them because they lie with such a honesty and projection that you are forced to doubt your own judgment. Their lies are very descriptive and they make them on the spot. They appear dreamy as if they are not lying but living their own reality. Sometimes it comes handy to them but sometimes it backfires when they forget what they lied about for no reason.

♥️ Aquarius Rising got nothing on Uranus conjuct ascendant. Look, I get that Aquarius is ruled by Uranus but honestly I can't relate to the stereotype when they say Aquarius risings have a unique fashion sense. Being a Aquarius rising and having Uranus in first house I personally think it fits the Uranus conjuct ascendant more. Yes, I like to stand out but my fashion sense is not that unique. I like it different but simple. My brother has a 12th house Uranus conjuct ascendant and he is a uranian more than me. He wears the most unconventional outfits at very wrong timings. He has a very unique fashion sense and he remains fixated on it until the last moment. Man... and he still pulls it off effortlessly. I could never do that.

♦️ Asteroid Sharp (5426) true to its name could indicate the area of your life where you excel the most and are quite attentive. You also learn and grasp those parts quickly. For example: Asteroid Sharp in Aquarius means you are good with electronics,technology, innovating things. In 2nd house could mean you handle money matters very well. In 10th house, you make profitable business deals, bargains and have a good eye when it comes to trading something.

♥️ Have you seen a Mars in 4th house getting angry? They are never angry. Well, never angry enough to be angry. But be careful just because they are not saying anything for the past twenty minutes while you are chewing their head off doesn't mean they are calm. It means either you are someone they can't cross with for the time being or they are thinking of hundred ways to kill you without getting into jail. Good luck bby, these people are damn calculative and smart. They will let you walk all over them for a moment but later.... oh boy you will not even realize what hit you. And trust me, they will have a strong alibi.

♦️Venus in 10th house 🤝 Get them a man/woman with financial stability. They themselves prefer to be independent and classy in a relationship. But no matter what financial stability is a must for them. Maybe not the first but definitely one of the top priorities.

♥️ Virgo Mars people are really fond of ropes, handcuffs, belts, elastic things and all. Idk why my brother keeps checking their strength when he encounters them. Hmm...sus

♦️ Saturn in 1st house could mean you were forced to grow up too early. You had many responsibilities on your shoulders at a young age and faced a lot of difficulties expressing your weaknesses. You might also be the person in the family who is looked upon and respected the most. No decision is taken without your consultation because you are considered to be the wisest of all.

♥️ Pluto in 3rd house, don't tell me your school life was easy. Either you failed a subject, were bullied for no reason, had abusive teachers, teachers who always picked upon you, unstable attendance or your family could hardly afford your studies.

♦️Scorpio/8th house Mars and their gazes. God, please don't stare at me like that. I get chills. There was this girl in my class. She used to stare at people a lot, that too bluntly. We thought she was creepy. But later after knowing her, she turned out to be really sweet and pretty decent girl.

♥️ Moon in 3rd house, very very curious people. They need to know everything there is in this world until they are emotionally satisfied. My 8 year old cousin asked me where do babies come from? She also added, don't say from God.

♦️I don't know about other Pisces placements but Pisces venus, they do have a thing for foot. Trust me on this, I had a deep conversation about this topic with my cousin who is a Pisces venus and because I didn't want to go with stereotype judgment, I had to make sure it was true. But it can vary from person to person tho.

♥️ Saturn in 2nd house people could come from a poor household or used to be financially unstable. But trust me it doesn't stay this way throughout. They usually face many difficulties with money until they don't at all. Karma always pays off and most of the times they live a very satisfied life. Very down to earth people. They don't fear poverty either.

♦️8th house Virgo are suckers for hygiene and perfection. But can be quite freaky in bed. Or the complete opposite of both. They can also have a guilty conscience after sex or masturbation.

♥️ Chiron in Capricorn/10th house can be very hard on themselves. These people often feel incompetent when it comes to their professional life. They can be insecure and anxious if things don't go their way. For them being unemployed is much worse than being heartbroken and it can be destroying.

♦️ Saturn in 6th house placements have an unimaginable disturbed mental health. They don't show and it seems as if no one sees it either. They pretend that everything is okay and no one can tell that it is not. Sometimes they are not even capable to share because people around them make them feel as if they are not supposed to. They often feel restricted when it comes to their emotions.

♥️ Now this is kinda funny but I have noticed some of the people having Sagittarius in fifth house or prominent Sagittarius/Gemini placements come off very lively and enthusiastic when it comes to kids. They also have a thing for irritating kids in a funny way to the point they start crying. Then they laugh it off.

[queerfanfiction]

Could you write a fluffy smut where reader has mummy issues who cancelled on her for taking her bra shopping and Larissa offered to go with her and helps her pick out the perfect set but then it ends with smut idk you chose :)

Mummy Issues

Prompt is shown above. :)

word count: 3.6k includes: mommy issues, public-ish sex, discussion of trauma, fingering, fluff, mommy kink, praise kink

Your therapist is actually the one who suggested you ask your mom to go shopping with you to find a bra set for an upcoming performance. You’re not saying this specific reparenting technique doesn’t work, but there was no way in hell your mother was going to follow through. Still, you tried anyway. You were vulnerable anyway.

You’re exhausted from parenting your own parent, always considering other’s needs before your own. Fresh out of university and you still have never had anyone else take care of you for a change. The shopping idea was intended to be a low-stakes role reversal where your mom would step up to the task at hand.

Earlier that morning you texted your mom to confirm the meet up in Burlington. You never heard back, which wasn’t uncommon. Since you were coming all the way from Montreal, though, you expected some sort of acknowledgement. You even texted her as you were driving over to no avail. Downtown Burlington was not where you would have picked to shop if your mother was not involved. It was close to where she lived, and she loved the hustle and bustle of Church Street. To you it always seemed like a hot mess. Now you were in the middle of that mess alone.

After waiting in your car for 15 minutes, it doesn’t take a genius to know you got stood up once again. You contemplated just driving back right then and there. This wasn’t exactly something you wanted to do alone, yet none of your friends are in the area any longer. They all had moved away. Overwhelmed by the sheer fuckery of nothing ever working out, you were frustrated and tired. You consider breaking down into tears over the wasted trip and the years of parental neglect represented by this one instance.

The only person who you can think of still in the area is Ms. Weems. You suppose it’s Principal Weems now (thank you social media for that one). Is it weird to invite a former teacher you once had a massive crush on to go shopping? It’s been so long that it would be nice to catch up. You’re not going to lie, you were yearning to see the older woman. Impulsively, you dial the number she gave you for emergencies back when you attended Nevermore. To your surprise, a firm but sweet voice answers—the same voice that you’d fantasize about in your dorm when your roommate was out. You try to control your voice, but too many conflicting emotions make you croak and sniffle a bit when identifying yourself.

“My dear, is everything alright? And, please, it’s Larissa.” A tone of worry was inflected back to you by the other woman.

In an attempt to dodge the question about your wellbeing, you respond, “I’m actually back in Burlington, trying to find an outfit for an upcoming performance. Any chance you’re free?” You tried to sound as nonchalant as you could.

Larissa returned with, “Oh, I don’t wish to intrude, but it was very kind of you to think of me.” Shit, apparently too nonchalant…

You reflect on all the times Larissa had comforted you back at Nevermore. She was protective of all her students, but it truly meant the world to you. You had always thought it was just another day, another student problem for her. There were many times you were neglected or mistreated by your mother that Larissa was privy to back then. Knowing this, as a Hail Mary, you softly let slip out, “I was supposed to meet my mom…”

Without missing a beat, Larissa’s voice turned tight, “Where are you?” You glance at the cross streets, give her your location, and let her know the specific store you’re at. She concludes, “I’ll be there in 20 minutes, love.”

Your heart flutters at the familiar pet name.

—

You’re already occupying the changing room when Larissa arrives. She calls out for you, and you crack open the door to let her into the small fitting area.

You are met with the most comforting hug. Larissa stroked your hair and squeezed you tightly. The last time an embrace has felt so all-encompassing was also from Larissa, which is a bit embarrassing. You guess you just don’t have a lot of good huggers in your life, and it felt so nice to be held close by someone. You breathe out a long sigh, as if all your troubles are muted by the closeness of the woman in front of you. Her scent replaces the air in your lungs, and you consider how nice it would be to never end this embrace.

When she pulls back and sees that your eyes are slightly red and puffy, she bends down towards you to cup your face with both of her hands. All that comes out of her mouth is “Oh, sweetie.” You give her a half-hearted smile in response. Her hands immediately begin stroking your face, brushing hair from your eyes, and occasionally resting her thumb and index finger at your chin. This. This is what being cared for is; the realization hits you and radiates out through your body.

“I’m here for whatever you need. Would you like to debrief about your mother? Or carry on with what’s needed here?” Larissa gestures to the garments in the fitting room without taking her eyes off of you.

Noticing how close she still is to your face makes your head dizzy, and you stutter, “I-I need s-something to wear under a strapless dress that won’t show during a piano performance.”

Reassuringly, Larissa states, “We can do that. You know I have an eye for those sorts of things. We’ll have you sorted in no time.” She then moves her hands to your upper arms and rubs them before turning to examine the items already set out.

“Piano? It’s no wonder. You always played brilliantly at Nevermore,” Larissa continued elatedly, brandishing a supportive smile. You think back to times when you’d be practicing in Nevermore’s music auditorium alone and feel a comforting presence at the back of the concert hall near the doors. You always assumed it was your imagination, not daring to get your hopes up that someone cared enough to support you or cheer you on. Your mother made sure of that…

You feel so much more at ease with Larissa here. Now that you think about it, she has always provided stability and nurtured you. You remember that she would sometimes give you rides to Jericho when the only Nevermore vehicle at the time was in use. You credit a lot of your success with the piano to her too, because she would encourage you to do open mics at the Weathervane and signed you up to play at a parade that Jericho had every couple of years. 

Yes, you felt indebted to the tall, gorgeous woman before you. The years since you’ve seen her have only emphasized her beauty. Her demeanor is both commanding and protective. It’s as if she is more comfortable in her skin than before; there is a sureness in her stance that is nice to see and that you wish you had. Even though you always considered her fashionable, her clothes now exude a kind of pride and carefully crafted style. Larissa’s perfectly-coiffed updo accentuates the smooth, supple skin of her neck before disappearing beneath her expertly tailored dress.

These thoughts invoke a light blush from your cheeks, and you know you can’t speak about your crush on her in the past tense. Your immediate dry mouth while watching her is proof that it never went away. Now you’re wondering if you shouldn’t have sought her out to assist in purchasing the perfect underwear, especially because you see her turn towards the garments and an emotion flashes across her face when she realizes the kinds of items you’ve picked out and need assistance with.

You’ve always liked the idea of dressing up underneath your formal outfit. To you, it made it feel more special, gave you extra confidence. For instance, knowing a sexy lace set was underneath your clothes made you feel as if you had a fun secret. Though, you realize it’s probably inappropriate to expect Larissa to help with this. If she felt uncomfortable, she was hiding it well. You tried to continue on as if everything was normal, even though doing so felt impossible.

When Larissa sits on the small ledge provided in the dressing room, you emphasize, “Thank you again for coming. I just drove from where I am now in Montreal.”

Realizing you should continue trying items on, you reach to unbutton your shirt when you hear, “You poor thing! Have you eaten?”

At this, you scrunch your face and shake off your blouse. “I’ll get something after this.” So many conflicting emotions swirl inside of you. You’re conflicted at whether to relish in the desperately needed maternal care or to shrug it off as a defense mechanism.

You begin to unhook a bra from its hanger and feel like you should ask, “Do you mind?” Larissa interprets that you’d like to change from your bra into the new one, waving her hand dismissively and saying, “Go ahead” in a delicate manner.

Without looking too awkward and challenged, you attempt to put on the new bra while taking  your current bra off in quick succession. It would have worked if the one you were trying on actually fit you. You had a hard time getting it on, and once you did, your breasts spill out of the top half, giving you the illusion of having four boobs. With you panting from the endeavor, you and Larissa begin to laugh at how silly it looks. You’re surprised that you’re not mortified, but instead having fun.

With some of your own tension released, you turn away from Larissa and towards the mirror to decide if you like the bra enough to go up a cup size. As you do this, what you don’t see is Larissa’s curious gaze, as if she is wishing she could reach out and touch the pillowy softness of your breasts.

“So, this one is NOT it.” Your playful declaration pulls Larissa from her lustful thoughts. It’s short-lived, though, since you immediately begin to try on more items. This time you choose a deep maroon matching set, and you turn slightly away from Larissa in order to pull up the bottoms over your current underwear. Because of the limited space in the room, your ass accidentally winds up in Larissa’s face. As if it is all in your head, you pretend the enclosed space is not rife with sexual tension.

“That’s gorgeous,” Larissa coos moments later with her hand reaching out. With both hands, she rubs along the intricate lace detail at your hip bones, and it feels as if your skin is set ablaze. You fight the urge for your breath to turn heavy and wanting.

Even if all of the tension is in your head and one-sided, it doesn’t change the fact that you’ll need to stop trying things on soon. Well, at least stop trying on bottoms, because you can feel yourself getting wet under Larissa’s stares and encouragement.

“That fits you so very well.” “I love this on you.” “It looks absolutely spectacular.” “You look stunning.”

Not to mention Larissa has taken a hands-on approach to her support. After briefly touching your hips, she began dragging her long fingers along bits of your exposed skin when she was discussing an area. There’s no way she doesn’t notice the goosebumps that arise each time her touch lingers. At least being half naked in the chilly changing room is an excuse for the tight buds of your nipples. 

The juxtaposition between this experience and what your mother would have had in store for you is dizzying. No doubt she would have critiqued your strong shoulders or the cellulite on your thighs. It would have ended in a fight, you just know it. However, everything out of Larissa’s mouth was refreshing and electrifying. Maybe even healing at times?

The final set you had picked out was a delicate mesh thong bodysuit that was almost entirely see-through. You hesitated for a moment, wondering if you should you stop trying things on. Larissa must have noticed, because she uncrossed and crossed her legs a few times before voicing, “Go on, honey.”

Embracing the process sheepishly, you slip into the item and turn away from Larissa to look at yourself. You study the outline of your breasts in the mirror, trying to determine if the subtle texture of the mesh would be noticeable under your dress. Or would the distance between the stage and the seats obscure the texture?

You then see that Larissa seems to be studying them too, except her eyelids are hooded and her pupils are dilated. Almost in slow motion you watch her involuntarily lick her lips. Your heart beats quicker, a flash of heat moves through your body, and you suppress a low moan.

Your eyes meet Larissa’s in the mirror.

You couldn’t say who initiated what next. Only that you were on Larissa’s lap, straddling her, while her hands were on you, roaming over your body and settling on your hips. Your mouths are working in tandem with each other, and you welcome her red lipstick staining your lips and neck. Your hands go to Larissa’s face—one cupping it possessively and the other slinking back to grip the nape of her neck. You want desperately to wreck her perfect hair, turning it into physical evidence of your connection and closeness.

Both you and Larissa can feel the heated energy building between you as you frantically attempt to take off the mesh bodysuit. Before you can, though, Larissa steadies your hands and inquires breathlessly, “Is this okay, darling?” Her eyes search your own, and you can make out desire and worry in her eyes.

You have to take a moment to let what she is asking sink in. This feels like such a natural (if not slightly expedited) progression of your feelings for Larissa. You wonder if there is more underlying her question. You know you two will have to debrief your feelings but right now the hormones raging through your body make it hard to focus too much on the worry or questions around if this should be happening. Instead, your body wiggles on top of hers, begging to continue the friction of your hips against her. You involuntarily whine and nod. “I want this, Larissa.”

Seeing your need and the sureness in your gaze, Larissa regains her composure and utters, “Shh, let me take care of you.”

—

Larissa rivals your intensity with her own fierce need. Her kisses are passionate yet soft. Her hands are gentle but unyielding in how they explore your body once the mesh bodysuit is off. With her every caress and tender nip over your skin, you feel so wholly wanted, cared for, and desired. A fire underlies Larissa’s behavior, as if each touch begets more longing and thirst for you. At the same time, you couldn’t have anticipated the fervent need you had to be validated and devoured by this woman.

Once she has marked your neck with her lipstick and teeth, Larissa moves downward to take one of your fleshy, beaded nipples in her mouth. Barely audible to you, she breathes out, “Absolutely beautiful” before flicking it with her tongue and causing you to arch your back.

One of Larissa’s hands runs over your thighs, teasing you and drawing circles and zigzags on your delicate skin. You can’t help but whimper in need every single time her fingers get closer to where your thighs meet. After almost resigning to her pace and authority, she trails up to cup your arousal. Your legs twitch with the sudden contact, and you emit a gasp.

“You’re so wet for me.” Pleased, Larissa enunciates every word, drawing the words out and reveling in how at her mercy you are. “It’s intoxicating.”

Unable to withstand not taking action, you press your lips against hers roughly, trying to close any distance between your bodies. Breathless after many kisses, you move to suck on her neck and whisper, “Larissa.”

“Please.”

Only after this plea does Larissa finally dip a finger into you. It doesn’t feel like nearly enough. You would usually appreciate a sexual partner pacing themselves, but the need for her to fill you is overpowering. You wriggle your hips back and forth impatiently and breathlessly request, “More.”

Larissa delighted in your clear hunger for her, fully intending to give you everything you want. She eases in another finger past her second knuckle before adding a third finger once she realizes how slick and open you are for her. You unintentionally bite down on her shoulder, not expecting to get what you want without more begging.

 You couldn’t have imagined how good her fingers feel inside you. And you absolutely had imagined it. You remember pretending your fingers were hers after late nights riding back with her from Jericho. Or the time she gave you her coat on a chilly night and forgot to get it back, so you ended up masterbating to her scent surrounding you. Okay, you’re not super proud of that one, but at the time it felt world-changing the desire you had. Her fingers working inside of you now are of a different caliber. In fact, you never understood the metaphor of sex as worship or religion, but being on top of Larissa with her half-lidded eyes roaming your body changes things. You want to make her feel a sliver of how good you do right now.

Your hands begin to grab at the fabric of her top, desperate to remove her clothing and pleasure her as she is inside of you. Larissa lets out a low, throaty chuckle before asserting, “Ah, ah, ah. I want to focus on you, love. Let me please you.”

Her interjection just makes your heart swell more for her, and noticeably your noise level swells, as well. You’re not used to undivided attention and care—someone wanting your happiness above all else. It’s more erotic than you could have ever anticipated. At the increase in breathiness and moans, one of Larissa’s hands clamps over your mouth while the other continues to pump in and out of you. Out of the corner of your eye you can see the reflection in the dressing room mirror of you riding her long fingers completely nude while she is fully clothed. The sight makes your knees weaker, and you groan, “Oh, fuck.”

Larissa’s whispers and affirmations throughout only brought you closer and closer to release. She has to know how her words are affecting you. Her hot breath over and over in your ear, inching you towards the edge.

“I’ve got you, sweetie.” “I’ll give you anything you want.” “Shh, stay quiet for me.” “That’s a good girl.”

You feel yourself tighten around Larissa’s fingers, becoming more breathless and spacey as she presses the pads of her curled fingers inside you toward your pelvic bone, urging you to come undone. So, you do. Your entire body tenses, and you feel as if you will crumble under the anticipation and pressure. Tingles shoot down your arms and legs in waves, threatening overstimulation.

Larissa’s fingers still, and she presses you close to her, clutching you tightly. After a moment of your eyes being closed and your breathing slowly relaxing, Larissa asks you to bear down with your pelvic floor muscles. Confused, you obey. She gingerly removes her fingers from inside you, and your body aches at the loss. She proceeds to lean forward with you still on her lap, wrapping her arms around you and begins to rock you.

“You did so well, my love,” Larissa murmurs while stroking your hair away from your damp forehead. “You were so good for me.”

You can’t remember the last time someone was so attentive and sweet with you after sex—if ever. You also have never felt like an exposed live wire due to euphoria either, so… Her thoughtfulness makes your heart swell, and you’re hoping it’s not just due to the hormones flooding your body right now. As if you can’t contain the disbelief and gratefulness, you blurt in awe, “How are you real?”

Larissa pulls away from the embrace, searching your eyes for understanding. “I ask myself the same question about you.” At that, you rest your forehead against Larissa’s, exhausted and happy.

After sensing your heart rate has stabilized, wanting to make sure you go to the bathroom and hydrate becomes Larissa’s next priority. Her voice breaks the comfortable silence. “Let’s get you some food now. I’m sure you’ve worked up an appetite.”

You two pick up the items in the messy dressing room and sheepishly leave the clothes on the courtesy rack outside. A grin blooms over your features as you think about how being stood up by your mom feels like such a nonissue now. Even the dilemma of what underwear to wear for your upcoming performance seems trivial. Walking out of the store with Larissa’s lipstick all over you, you decide that you won’t wear anything under your dress, especially not if Larissa is in the audience.

—

@sapphicbeloved Remember when you sent this request literal months ago????? Oops. Apologies, and please enjoy!

[dancingdonatello]

Hello! I love your work! I was wondering if you could possibly do an au for a girl being the human sister of the turtles, and since Splinter wants her to learn and be around her own kind a little more he has her go to high school, (against all four brothers wishes) so the go out to spy in her to make sure everything is alright and at the end of the day she meets a guy who ask her out and they all fume over it? It’s fine if you don’t want to! No pressure. ❤️

rottmnt x sister reader

“It’s time,” Splinter announced.

Everyone froze.

It had been a chill day in the lair. Everyone was hanging out in the living room. Splinter had been watching his commercials, Leo reading his comics, Raph watching football on his phone, so everyone was doing their own thing.

So it was very abrupt and frightening for Splinter to speak up and randomly say that.

“What?” Raph finally spoke up for all of you. Mikey slid into your side nervously. “What are ya talkin’ about, pops?”

“What we’ve been discussing for the past year.”

“You mean arguing about?” Donnie asked dryly.

“Tomato, tomato, Purple.” Splinter looked at you and you slid down against the couch nervously. “It’s time for you to go to High School.”

“No!” Leo wailed, throwing his arms around you. “I won’t let you take her!” He started to hiss at Splinter who looked at him with an unamused look.

“If she gets to go to school, then I should be able to, too!” Donnie complained, clearly more upset about a different aspect to this than what his brothers were upset about.

“You can’t!” Raph nervously waved his hands around. “Think of all the thugs in there! Is a public school? A private school? Where? What’s the crime rate in the area?! We won’t be there to protect her!”

“It’s safer to be in a school than a sewer,” Splinter rolled his eyes. “Think of all the diseases down here.”

“Hey! I keep it clean!” Donnie argued.

“No, you don’t. Your robots do.”

“Shut up, Leo—”

“Anyways. Your opinions don’t matter. Only mine does,” Splinter announced, ignoring how the shouting of his sons only grew louder at that. “In two weeks is the first day of school.”

You swallowed nervously.

Donnie had kept you up to what your age should know. Math, science, etc. So you would be fine with that. But you wouldn’t know anyone. Not a single person there, except for April. And everyone already knew everyone.

You were nervous. This made your brothers nervous.

For two weeks, the nervous energy built up.

When you went to school you were shaking.

You went through most of your classes barely speaking. You felt as if shadows were following you and you kept thinking people were whispering your name. But nobody knew it, so that was impossible, right?

Leaving your second to last class, in a isolated part of the school, you were quickly stopped by someone grabbing your arm.

“Hey…” You jumped and the ceiling creaked above you ominously. “Are you new?”

You turned to see a guy, maybe one from your class you just came from. You two were alone in the hall and you grew nervous.

“Uh, yeah!” Cute boy. Cute boy. Cute boy. You panicked. Oh god. “Uh. Yeah.” You were an idiot.

“Kinda rough how he’s already giving us a test, right? Did you study?”

“No,” you lied. Why did you lie?

“Me neither!” He laughed. What a win. “Wanna go study with me while eating some icecream?”

Your eyes widened. “Yes—”

Raph’s claws punctured the ceiling tile. What had been barely holding his weight snapped, sending all four turtles crashing through the ceiling, crushing the guy underneath the rubble.

You stared at your brothers and they stared back.

“Oh my god,” Mikey breathed out. “We killed him.”

“No, we didn’t. We likely concussed him and knocked him out.” Donnie rolled his eyes. “He deserves it anyways.”

“How about instead of chatting and standing there, get off of him!” you screamed at them. They scrambled off of him and Raph picked the poor guy up. He limply flopped like a wet noodle. “Guys?!”

“I’ll leave him outside there nurse’s office…” Leo reluctantly sighed, opening a portal. Raph carelessly threw the boys through the portal.

“Raph?!”

“What?” he asked innocently.

“Get out of my school!”

They ‘left’ and continued to watch you from the ceiling.

At least no school day could be worse than this one. It could only be uphill from there.

[nico-esoterica]

★ How to Manifest Fame Forever ★

"This is the way the industry works." "You have to do something to get something." "Sign your name here. It's for your own good, I promise."

If you want to be famous, you need to start discarding any ideas you have about it. All the horror stories and guidance you've been given. Because all 'Hollywood' is is a bunch of very removed and traumatized people crashing against each other. And there's this assumption that you need to be a cut-throat, paranoid, and narcissistic person. You don't. You just need boundaries and need to be very firm about how you believe your trajectory will go and how you'll be received. You don't have to do anything unsavory to be famous. No one needs to be betrayed, you don't have to lie or embellish, you don't have to maintain an image you hate.

Because what's been happening to Ice Spice, imo, is the result of her early issues with women, jealousy, and using others as learned self-preservation playing out in current behavior she displays biting her in the ass. Whatever anxieties you have from shitty experiences with relationships, money, autonomy, etc, is gonna start manifesting as you build your platform and navigate industries unless you render it irrelevant. Because imposter syndrome, performance anxiety, and being triggered by projection and collective expectations does most famous people in, dead and alive. In this day and age, we have more public awareness about mental health and online resources at bare minimum to help ourselves be honest about any issues we may have. You don't just have to disassociate through it with work or drugs, you can get the help you need and decide how your fame is going to work out.

Because being perceived on a massive scale at all times and not just during special events isn't something that's ever happened in human history until this past century. And in the age of fast moving social media opposed to slow print and film (meaning public opinion was more easier controlled w/ spin), we're in an unprecedented time. So, imo, this requires stronger or more creative mental fortitude. You don't have to just exist as a persona to absorb all the projection if you don't want to. What I encourage doing for some is to create a healthy fan base who respect boundaries (which we're seeing now with Chappel Roan) and who respect your person hood and artistry where they'll want to support you without consuming you. How much distance and privacy you allow yourself is up to you. But artists who are moving differently with this, imo, with Pluto going into Aqua are going to reap the most rewards. Because it's all under your control, actually. Even big execs if you decide ahead of time how they're going to act and receive you. You don't have to beg or sign off on deals you don't actually want because of the fear that the opportunity won't come around again or not for a while.

And if you get your perceptions of relationships and money under control? The skies aren't the limit. It doesn't exist. Michael Jackson scripted his fame and outlined how big and epic it'd be before it happened. And he's still revered postmortem and will be forever. Marilyn Monroe could 'disappear' in public spaces according to how she perceived herself and created the perfect image of her as Marilyn. What many details about these people's lives will tell you that they knew they were manifesting, but it was only in a certain area. They didn't know as much as a curious teenager into manifestation knows on the internet now. Because once you have this awareness, you'll apply it to everything. The difference is simply ignorance.

But YOU have the advantage of knowing that you can, in fact, manifest for it all to happen perfectly. No corruption, no conspiracies, no blackmail or going to Epstein's island or a Diddy party, sucking off Weinstein or those similar, payola, selling your soul or whatever the fuck. You CAN have the greatest and most reliable and genuine team and connections, you CAN have continuous and endless upward momentum with no plateaus, you CAN have immortality as the greatest legend in the field you choose.

You just have to decide it's true. Decide all limiting beliefs around it are false and will never apply to you.

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Devil's Night: Final Part

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.1k

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Summary: Halloween makes its way around again, and you and Spencer are preparing for the best holiday (according to Spencer). He keeps you busy with decorating while he makes arrangements of his own, arrangements that will completely change both of your lives for the better.

Season Six Masterlist

Author's Note: I know Devil's Night is usually the night before Halloween, but for the sake of this rewrite, Devil's Night is the weekend before.

x

You, Derek, and Emily head over to his house but there is no sign of Kaman. House is a loose word. It's more like a garage of some sort filled with gas cans, shelving units, and a small bed in the very corner. The only source of light comes from the very few lights strung about. You turn them on but they don't provide a lot of light here.

"It's like a cave," Emily comments.

"This guy hides out all year long. With burns like his, he's probably sensitive to light."

"And his own skin," Derek says. "Look around, there's not a mirror in sight. This guy doesn't want any reminder of what he looks like."

"There's nothing personal in here. For a planner like Kaman, tonight's abduction was irrational. He went on private property and took Chris with a witness present."

"Maybe he's finally starting to feel the pressure and he's reactive," Derek shrugs.

"It's more than that. He's meticulous. He'd have a plan if he got cornered. He'd have an endgame."

"He already killed the man he blames for his accident. The other victims are slights compared to that, and now he needs to hurt the person who hurt him the most. The one who drives all of this. The one who broke his heart."

"Who the hell is that?" you ask.

Al and Hotch were too late. Chris had already been set on fire. He ran into the middle of the road while on fire and died right there where everyone could see him. Al didn't have time to take Chris to a secondary location, so he abandoned the van that he used and fled the scene. He's on foot now.

Kaman targeted Chris because he was fired seven months ago. He killed Chris where he did because roadblocks prevented him from going into his comfort zone. The only things inside the van are welding equipment, cans of gasoline, and a cage. Without his car, Kaman is going to lie in wait until he can't anymore.

Then, he's gonna lash out again.

There has to be something in Kaman's garage that will tell you where he's going next. You lift his mattress but nothing is there. You lift his pillow and see a single notebook there. You open it and see multiple pictures of the same woman in there.

"Guys, I think I found something." Derek and Emily walk to your side. "A woman. I think this is a diary. He keeps mentioning the same woman over and over again."

"Jeez. We gotta find out who she is. If this guy's feeling cornered, all bets are off. Tonight's his last chance to get revenge on anyone who's ever wronged him. She's most likely his next target."

You take pictures of the woman, send them to Penelope, and then call her.

"Pen, I just sent you some photographs."

"What do you want to do with them?"

"Blow up the background and see if you can find anything that tells us who this girl is."

"I'll hit you back." You try to figure it out on your own but you don't have Penelope's skills. She calls back five minutes later with Hotch on the other line. "Friends, we're on a three-way."

"What's going on?" Hotch asks.

"Hotch, we found some pictures of Kaman's girlfriend at his place," you say.

"I blew up those pictures. In one of them, she appears to be in a restaurant, so I zoomed in on the sign that says 'O' apostrophe 'S'. I cross-checked that with restaurants in the area, and there are five diners. Three are in the suburbs, two are in Highland Park, and one is in Rivertown."

"What's the name?"

"Jay-mo's. This appears to be Kaman's and that girl's favorite place because all the pictures were taken there."

"Have you heard of Jay-mo's?" Hotch asks someone near him,

"It's a few blocks from here," Al answers.

"Good work, Garcia. We're on the way."

You, Derek, and Emily begin the drive to Jay-mo's knowing Al and Hotch will get there before you. Reports of a fire alert just went out from Jay-mo's which means Kaman is already there. Hotch and Al arrive first and immediately go inside to rescue the man who Kaman was trying to kill. Thankfully, they do, and you arrive just as Hotch pulls the man's body out of the burning diner.

"Hotch, you ran into a burning building?" Derek gasps.

"I didn't have a choice. Her name's Tracy. Kaman's trying to find her."

"That man put his life on the line to protect her. She means something to him."

"She means everything," Hotch adds.

You're already calling Penelope to give her the new information on the case. She looks more into the diner and the people who own it.

"Jay-Mo's real name is James Morris. He was married to Loretta Butler. They have one daughter, Tracy Anderson. She was born in 1987."

"Why does she have a different last name?" you ask.

"When James' wife died, his sister Susan Anderson adopted Tracy."

"Where is she now?"

"Ohio."

"No, he says she's nearby," Hotch says. "Where do the Andersons live?"

"Uh, Indian Village."

"That's three miles away."

"Let's go."

"Thanks, Pen."

While you're driving over to the house, you try to get Tracy on the phone. However, she isn't answering. The line is busy. Kaman is already there. There isn't a fire reported yet, but Al calls in medics and fire suppression just in case. Penelope looks deeper into Tracy and Kaman's relationship only to find out that Tracy got pregnant right before Kaman went into a coma. He doesn't even know he has a child.

"We're here," Al says once everyone arrives. The SWAT team is also in position, waiting for instruction. "Hold your position. We need a single rifle. I say again, all units, hold your position."

"Copy that." Derek pulls off to the side once he has Tracy's house in view. "This is the street." You look at Tracy's house and notice Hotch going inside the house... alone. "Hotch is going inside, and he's on his own."

"We should go after him, no?" you ask, worried for your boss.

"Hotch won't do anything to spin him," Rossi says.

"It's not Kaman I'm worried about."

"This isn't his first time at the dance. We gotta trust him on this."

You have no choice but to trust him, and he did what he was supposed to do. He got Kaman out without him hurting anyone else. All Tracy had to do was show him his son and that is what convinced Kaman to go to jail instead of burning the house down like he planned to do. Now that you got that out of the way, you plan for Spencer's birthday by first, setting up a nice candle-lit dinner inside your apartment the night that you get back from Detroit.

Spencer was told to stay in the bedroom while you got everything set up. Mozart is lightly playing through the old-timey record player Spencer got a few years ago, the dining table is set with a white cloth, flowers you bought before you left for Detroit, fake candles everywhere to create a romantic glow, and three presents you got last month wrapped so prettily.

"Okay, Spencer, you can come on out now," you call out. The bedroom door opens and Spencer walks into the main room. "Happy birthday."

"Wow, this looks amazing."

"I made you your favorite. I got the recipe online so I hope I made it right."

"I'm sure it's delicious," he grins.

Spencer loves Indian food so you made sure to find an authentic recipe that involves everything he likes. You and Spencer sit across from each other and immediately dig in, and he moans at how delicious the food is.

"Seriously, you did a great job."

"Thanks, baby," you grin. "So, I was thinking about something. Maybe we should plan a trip to see your mom. I know she misses you a lot and I think it would do her some good if she saw us. I mean, I don't know about staying an entire week but I don't see an issue with staying a weekend."

"Look, I gotta tell you something and it can't wait," Spencer cuts you off.

"Okay."

Spencer remembers Derek's words loud and clear. Just speak from the heart. Okay, here goes nothing.

"You have no idea how happy you have made me. When I first saw you walk onto that plane for the very first time, do you remember what you said?" You shake your head with a smile. "You said, 'Sorry, but I've read everything you have ever written especially Identifying Non-obvious Relationship Factors Using Cluster Weighted Modeling and Geographic Regression. You have a very intelligent mind.'"

"I wasn't lying," you smile.

"I thought... Wow. How can someone so beautiful and smart ever want to talk to me? I often find myself thanking Gideon for giving me those tickets for the drive-in theater we went to. I don't think I would have found the courage to ask you out if it wasn't for him. We have been through so much and I know we're going to go through so much more... I want you there through it all right by my side."

Spencer reaches into his breast pocket inside his jacket and pulls out a small black ring box. The fork you're holding drops to the table, making a loud clanging noise as it hits the ceramic plate. Spencer gets up from his chair only to kneel on one knee right in front of you. Tears immediately spring to your eyes but you try not to let them fall.

"Spencer..."

"You're my best friend, the love of my life, and I want to spend the rest of my life making you as happy as you make me. Will you marry me?"

"This is supposed to be your birthday," you cry.

"Marrying you is the best present I could ever get. So, will you marry me?"

"Yes," you giggle and hold your hand out.

As soon as Spencer slides the ring onto your finger, you pull him in for a kiss. Both of you stand and embrace each other. The high you're feeling right now is like none other because you can now start to plan the rest of your life with Spencer by your side. You slide your tongue into his mouth only to pull away seconds later.

"Is this why you and Derek have been acting weird?"

"I needed his help," Spencer shrugs shyly.

"I'm gonna be Mrs. Reid," you giggle happily and kiss him once more.

Frank wants nothing more than to go over to your apartment and beat the ever-living shit out of Spencer. No one touches what's his. Clarissa has always said he had a bad temper when things don't go his way and she's been trying to get him to work on thinking before acting out. Frank leans back in his seat and clenches his hands by his side.

Think, Frank, think. Frank could storm into your apartment and steal you away from Spencer, but that would only put the FBI on his ass and ruin everything he's worked so hard for. No, he can't do that. The only other option is to wait and come up with a plan. Frank wants you. It's as simple as the day he first saw you. Big beautiful eyes, such soft and supple skin. You're in every one of his fantasies and he's not going to let someone like Spencer take that away from him.

No, if he's going to separate the two of you, he has to get creative... even if it means punishing himself to do it. Frank grabs his phone and dials the one person who he knows will get him out of this alive.

"Frank, I was wondering when you'd call."

"You knew this day was coming."

"I've been counting down since you gave me one of your kids. Two of them, in fact. Such pretty little girls."

"Yes, I bet they're gorgeous." Frank rolls his eyes. "Listen, I need to cash in my favor."

"What do you need?"

"Let's just say I might be visiting you a lot sooner than I wanted. You know Y/N?"

"Who doesn't? All you do is brag about her."

"Yeah, well, she's engaged now and that just won't do. I think it's about time she finally knows who I am."

"Are you sure about that? You're going to go to prison for a very long time."

"That's where you come in. Are you still as good as they say you are or should I go with someone else?"

"You know I'm the best," the man smirks. "Don't worry. You sort your shit out and I'll make sure your cell will be ready for you when you get here."

Frank smirks and hangs up soon after before watching you and Spencer celebrate on camera. You have no idea what's coming for you...

"Love feels no burden, thinks nothing of its trouble, attempts what is above its strength, pleads no excuse for impossibility, for it thinks all things are lawful for itself and all things are possible." - Thomas A. Kempis

x

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[yxngbxkkie]

racing gone wrong (y.j)

it's innie's turn being a street racer! i really liked the idea i had for him, and i hope i executed it to everyone's liking 💓 much love 💓

feedback is greatly appreciated 🥰

You tuck one of your legs under the other, perking up at the sound of your roommates footsteps. Jeongin walks out of his bedroom door while combing his fingers through his hair.

"You showered?" You ask him with furrowed brows.

Jeongin laughs at your obvious question, nodding his head in response. "Yeah, I told you I was showering," he reminds you with a click of his tongue.

"But, you're wearing clothes to go out, not your pajamas," you point out.

Your roommate nods his head again, grabbing a pair of shoes from the closet. "That's because I'm going out, cutie," he mentions while walking across the living room.

He pats your head as he walks by, and you keep your eyes on him. He's going out? This late? You think to yourself with a frown on your lips.

"It's almost nine-thirty though," you mumble loud enough for him to hear. "It's really late for you to be going out, especially by yourself."

Jeongin pokes his head into the living area, meeting your eyes. "I'll be okay, cutie. I'm going out with a couple of friends. No need to fret," he reassures you.

You stand up from your spot on the couch, heading towards the front door. "You're not going to be out for long, are you?" You question him.

He ties his shoes when you reach the door, and he glances up at you. "A couple of hours at least," Jeongin answers truthfully, noticing the worried look on your face.

"I'm sorry for sounding like a debbie downer. I just care about your health and well-being," you apologize, crossing your arms over your chest. "Just come home safely, okay?"

"Of course, cutie," he sighs while standing up fully.

Jeongin takes a couple of steps towards you, bringing you into a hug. You wrap your arms around his neck, nuzzling your head into his shoulder. He squeezes you gently while chuckling, one of his hands stroking your back.

"I gotta go," he whispers in your ear.

You pull away from him, dropping your arms to your sides. You watch as he opens the front door before walking out of the apartment. He waves at you, and you return it as he shuts the door. You take a step forward, locking it for your safety.

As you're walking to your bedroom, you can't help but think where he goes. It's not the first time he's left the apartment this late. It's been happening more frequently these past couple of weeks.

You know that you have no right to worry about what Jeongin does. But, you've had the biggest crush on him since he moved in almost two years ago. So, you can't help but feel worried.

You comb your fingers through your hair, beginning to pace in your bedroom. You're debating on whether or not you should follow him. It's definitely an invasion of privacy, but you just want to make sure he's okay.

Fuck it. You grab a hoodie from your closet, quickly throwing it over your head. You rush over to the hall closet, grabbing your sneakers and slipping them on your feet. You grab your house keys and run out the door, locking it behind you.

Once you leave your apartment building, you can hear a group of voices coming from your right. You slowly walk towards the noise, doing your best to listen intently.

"What'd you tell Y/N?" Someone asks, and your head perks up at the sound of your name.

"That I'm going out with some friends," Jeongin answers the other person. "I didn't lie to her, but I didn't fully tell her the truth either."

You furrow your brows while resting your hands against the concrete building. You peek around the corner, seeing your roommate standing in between two others.

"Is she going to be upset if she finds out?" A different guy asks.

"I'm not sure. I wouldn't think so. As long as I'm safe, I think she wouldn't be upset," your roommate tells them. Your heart flutters in your chest as you listen. "Anyway, we need to get going, or else we're gonna be late."

You can hear the two men pat Jeongin's back, or that's what it sounds like. "Of course. Where is it again?" The first guy you heard speaks, and you focus your hearing.

"It's by that corporate building, remember?" Jeongin laughs, opening the door to his vehicle. "The convenience store that has the really good ramen is right by it too."

I know that place! You think to yourself, deciding to get a head start there. You shove your hands into your pocket while heading towards the nearest train station. "It's only twenty minutes from here," you say to yourself.

After riding the train in complete silence, your leg bouncing during the entire trip, you get off at the stop near the convenience store. You walk down the empty streets, looking around for any sign of what's going to happen.

You turn the corner, seeing the store in question. Your eyes glance towards the parking lot beside it, and they widen at the row of sports cars. "He does not…" you trail off your thoughts, quickening your steps.

Jeongin and his two friends have already arrived as you can see the three of them hanging out together. You blend in with the crowd of people, hearing gossip about tonight's lineup of racers.

"He races too," you mutter to yourself after hearing someone mention Jeongin.

A part of you is in absolute shock. You never expected your sweet, innocent roommate to be a street racer. You fiddle with the hood on top of your head as you continue walking through the crowd.

You notice someone standing on top of their car with a megaphone in their hands. "Ladies and gentlemen, if I can have your attention for a couple of seconds," they say into the device.

The people around you stop talking and turn to face the person. You glance towards your roommate and his friends, noticing their attention on them as well.

"We're going to be starting the race in five minutes. I'm going to announce who'll have the luxury of competing tonight," they mention before looking down at the paper in their hands. "The lineup is Haneul, Byung-ho, Do-yun, Jeongin, Jisung, and Eun. If you guys could get ready and park at the front, that'd be fabulous. Stay safe, everyone."

Everyone around you claps, and you join in as well, feeling a bit excited to see Jeongin race. You move through the sea of people once again, apologizing to those you bump into accidentally.

You press your lips together as you watch your roommate drive his black vehicle to the start line. "Wow," you mumble to yourself, taking note of how hot he looks. You admire his side profile, watching him pull his phone out.

Your phone vibrates after you watch Jeongin put his phone away. You tear your gaze from him and grab your phone from inside your hoodie pocket.

Make sure to get to bed at a decent time! I know you like to binge when I'm not home 🤣

You roll your eyes playfully, a chuckle leaving your lips. You type a message back to him before hitting send.

I don't always binge when you're not home 🫣 Don't call me out! 😭

You shove your phone back into your pocket, looking back up at Jeongin. He checks his phone again, smiling widely at your text. Your heart flutters in your chest at the sight of him, not knowing that he looks at your texts with such a fond smile.

Your phone vibrates once again as a woman holding two green flags walks out in front of the six vehicles. You decide to check your phone afterward, wanting to see the beginning of the race.

Everyone in the lineup starts up their vehicle, revving the engines loudly. People around you cheer for them, the sudden screams making you jump. You lean forward and watch the woman raise the flags. You clasp your hands together, and she quickly lowers them, signaling that the driver's may start.

Tires screech, and you quickly cover your ears, keeping an eye on Jeongin's vehicle. You bounce in place as he speeds off into first, keeping yourself from cheering too loudly.

Once the cars are out of sight, you grab your phone from your pocket. You swipe down and read the text Jeongin sent. A smile stretches on your lips, and you hide your face into the hood of your sweatshirt.

But you still do it! Get some rest, cutie 💓 Tomorrow let's get lunch, okay?

You bite your lip gently and agree to get lunch. You look at the time, wondering if you should get home before the race even ends. You start heading back to the train station, deciding to go home.

Just as you reach the stairs to the station, a couple of cars zoom past. A squeak comes from your lips when you see Jeongin's car in first place.

"Great job, Innie," you say to yourself before ascending the stairs.

-

It's been a few weeks since you discovered Jeongin's secret. He still hasn't mentioned anything about what he does late at night to you, but you understand why he doesn't.

You've read some stories from a community post, knowing that street racing can be dangerous. You've continued secretly watching his races from within the crowd.

Which is where you are currently. You sit down on the bench with a couple of others. You've chatted with a few since you've been coming. It kills time while you sit around and wait for the racers to come back.

"Who are you rooting for?" One of the women asks you, smiling.

"Jeongin," you answer with no hesitation. The dark-haired woman gives you a smirk, and you roll your eyes. "I don't even want to hear it."

She gasps playfully, raising her hands up. "I have no idea what you mean! It just seems like you only root for him," she wiggles her brows, nudging your arm.

"Do you root for more than one racer?" You ask out of curiosity.

"Yeah, of course! Most of us have a top five," she explains to you.

You nod your head in understanding, gripping the edges of the bench. "To be honest, I've got a crush on Jeongin, which is why I only root for him," you tell her with flushed cheeks.

The girl beside you squeals before shaking your arm. "No fucking way! That's so cute. Have you spoken to him?" She asks excitedly, whipping her head around to look for him.

"No, no, no," you panic, urging her to calm down. "That's okay. I don't - "

The crowd around you gasps, causing you to whip your head around. You stand on your feet as you notice smoke coming from the end of the street. People start running in that direction, and you find yourself doing the same.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you see Jeongin's car flipped over. Oh no. You curse to yourself and sprint towards the smoking vehicle.

"Jeongin?!" You call out his name, kneeling on the ground. You crawl closer, noticing that his seatbelt is half off. The left side of his body is leaning forward, and you notice a streak of blood running down his face.

"Hey, we called an ambulance," the girl you were talking to earlier states.

You thank her kindly as you do your best to carefully pull him out. It doesn't take long for the rescue to get here, and one of the paramedics orders you to step back.

You do as they say, taking a couple of steps back. You pace in your spot while chewing on your nails, hoping that he'll be okay. When the paramedics finally pulled Jeongin out, you could see that he was unconscious.

"Do you see his phone?" One of the guys asks, searching your roommates clothes.

"I-I know him," you speak up, taking a step forward. The two medics look at you, and you continue explaining, "I'm his roommate."

The older medic nods his head, motioning to his coworker to help him. They put Jeongin on a stretcher, making sure he's secure before wheeling him into the ambulance.

"Would you like a ride?" One of the medics asks you, and you nod your head instantly.

You climb into the back, sitting down beside Jeongin. You resist the urge to reach for his hand, and you place your head in your hands.

The ride to the hospital doesn't take long, twenty minutes max. You sit in the waiting room for what feels like hours. Your legs are shaking constantly as your eyes glance towards the double doors.

"Y/N?" Someone calls out your name, snapping you from your daze.

"Yes," you say while springing up from your chair.

A doctor and a nurse walk over to you, both giving you a smile. "Good news is that Jeongin will be fine. He's got a minor concussion, a couple of bruised ribs, and some scratches from the debris," he explains to you.

You let out a sigh of relief, placing a hand over your heart. "Thank goodness. Can I see him?" You ask the two of them.

"Of course. She'll show you the way, okay?" The doctor motions to the nurse beside him.

You thank him again before following the older woman. Jeongin's room isn't far from the waiting room. She opens the door for you, allowing you to walk in.

"Thank you," you politely tell her, walking into his room after.

Jeongin's eyes meet yours instantly, a smile coming to his lips. "Hey," he greets you quietly.

You shut the door to the room and make your way to the side of his bed. "Hey, Innie, how are you feeling?" You ask him, grabbing his large hand.

"Other than my ribs being bruised, I'm okay," he mentions with a slight wince, his free hand covering his torso. "I'm sorry for making you worry."

You grab the plastic chair beside you, sitting down on it. "It's okay," you smile at him, squeezing his hand gently. "Maybe we should both spill our secrets."

Jeongin looks at you with a confused look, not knowing what you mean. "Secrets? I don't have any secrets," he laughs a bit, his thumb stroking your hand.

"I know about you street racing," you whisper loud enough for him to hear. His eyes widen, and he attempts to sit up. You gently place a hand on his chest, stopping him from getting up. "It's okay. I'm not mad that you didn't tell me."

"How'd you find out?" He asks you.

You drop your gaze to the floor. "I followed you one night," you start off, lifting your gaze again. "And, ever since then, I've attended every race you went to."

"Wait, really? All of them?"

"Yeah, I'm sorry. I should've told you, but I thought you'd get upset with me," you ramble nervously.

"It's okay," he says, tugging your conjoined hands towards him. "I'm not upset. I'm just glad everything's open."

"There's one more thing," you mention, taking a deep breath. "I have a crush on you."

Jeongin smiles lovingly at you, his hand squeezing yours again. "I have a crush on you, too," he confesses, tilting his head a bit. "I have for a while."

A chuckle leaves your lips as a weight gets lifted off of your chest. "You like me," you state, scooting closer to him.

He slowly lifts himself up, and you go to stop him when he presses his lips against yours. Your breath hitches in your throat as Jeongin breaks away from the unexpected kiss.

"I like you a lot," he whispers before kissing you again. "Will you still get lunch with me?"

"Of course," you laugh, grinning ear to ear. "How dare I deny my boyfriend food."

Jeongin grins and kisses the back of your hand. "How did I get so lucky with you?" He asks, stroking the spot he kissed.

You shake your head, dipping your head to hide your embarrassment. "It's me who got lucky, Innie."

~

tagging: @thewxntersoldier @reddesert-healourblues @spacegirlstuff @moon0fthenight @foxinnie8 @like-a-diamondinthesky @luckieleaf @stayconnecteed @tiaxa @yoonrimin @sunny-future @daysofskz-ateez @endzii23 @sweetbutpsychovalkyrie @bunnies-only @sleepyleeji @hhwangsmoon @emily505

[clearheartsgreyflowerss]

A doctor's touch- Baizhu x fem!reader

this is so damn self indulgent and not really as much of a fic but more just my thoughts on Baizhu, so like slightly suggestive? That's like the only warning I have other than this is NOT proofread and will just be word vomit

Once again if you see grammar mistakes no you don't :)

I am 100% under the belief that Baizhu is a touchy person, like he will not get his hands off you. Before you two started dating he would leave little fleeting touches, to your shoulders, to your hands, to your thighs, etc. he just loves the feeling of your skin, even if for a few seconds.

When you two do start dating, good luck trying to get away from him. He will do everything holding your hand, with you in his lap, or just the two of you pressed close together, he just wants to always be near you!

Also he's a doctor, I know he's good with his hands. If he's not busy he will give you massages, and God I'm sure they're the best you'll ever have. He knows exactly where to put pressure and where not to, I'm sure he knows your body better than his own.

His favorite body part is definitely your thighs, he just loves how squishy and soft they are! If he has a break with you he will definitely lay his head on them, changsheng honestly is a little annoyed bc that means she actually has to move off his shoulders.

Speaking of Changsheng, she's totally a fan of you. even if she likes to complain, she does that about everyone, she does it significantly less about you dw :)

I mean this is a pretty obvious thing but he is the best person to be around when you're sick. I mean you literally live in a pharmacy with a doctor, he'll have you feeling better as fast as possible. Aside from the obvious though, I can see him actually being somewhat distraught while you're sick, not enough for anyone else to notice but changsheng, but still.

"Baizhu, you are well aware I don't like being around your neck if your hair is down." Changsheng started to slither up his arm, but stopped as she got closer to his neck. She hissed a little, before he raised his arm to meet her eyes.

"my apologies Changsheng, I've just been a little busy this morning." He walks over to the counter in the storage area of Bubu pharmacy, where he puts her down and then walks out of the room. She hisses once more, but curls up and waits for him to return.

He comes back into the room a few minutes later with his hair done, though changsheng can tell it wasn't done with his normal precision.

"You know [Name] just has a common fever, correct? I can tell that's what's bothering you."

"I am well aware, and it isn't bothering me, I don't know what you are talking about." Changsheng let out a grumble as she makes her way back up his arm and around his shoulders.

"you may be able to fool her, but you cannot fool me."

On the flip side, he is a NIGHTMARE to deal with if he is sick (well, more sick than he normally is). I mean he's literally dying, what's a little bit of extra coughing going to do to him? You are actually going to have to lock him in his room. Or lock yourself in there with him, at least you'll keep him occupied for longer till he tries to escape back to work.

He also will refuse to admit he's sick, like changsheng is at a point where shes begging you to make him lie down for a day or two. Yet he continues to brush off both of you, he always insists there is more work to be done. Even if you get him out right to admit that he's sick, he's still gonna try and take care of himself. He'll try to find all the medicine himself, make his own food etc., just because he doesn't want you to get sick too.

Back to him being touchy (sorry I was talking to my friend while I was writing they brought the being sick thing up) anyway, I think even if he's touchy, he's not a big fan of PDA. Like if you two are just around bubu pharmacy he will always be at the very least holding your hand, but when you two are out and about that's like the most he will do. It's not that he's embarrassed, he just doesn't find it necessary. If you two are out you're probably doing stuff, there's no need to be slowed down by constant touch (though if that's something you want he definitely isn't against it >:3)

THIS IS FOR ALL MY POLY PEOPLE IF YOU DONT LIKE THAT JUST SKIP THIS PARAGRAPH

I believe Baizhu would be open to being in a polyamorous relationship, whether that means both of you are just in an open relationship or you both have a third partner, he definitely doesn't care. I don't think he gets jealous easily, so if you bring another partner around he will welcome them very easily. He does tend to get defensive though, if he believes that one of your other relationships is hurting you, he will tell you what he thinks.

Anyway yeah I thought this was gonna be longer but guess who fucking forgot Tumblr existed! My finals were so stressful and honestly writing even after I was done with them also felt stressful, so I took another break. Hopefully I can get back into writing this summer, (may write some kind of birthday fic bc my birthday was a week ago). I hope y'all are enjoying the shit that I post, I know it's so inconsistent and random, but we're almost at 60 followers which is crazy to me, like the fact that 60 of you like my shitty thoughts enough to follow me is so crazy I love all of you sm :3

Also I'm so sorry if this is unreadable I finished it without looking back at anything that I wrote last so uhhh sorry if I repeated any thoughts.

Daily click to help those in Palestine

[softshuji]

Tell me more about fugitive hanma 👀👀👀👀

Goddddddd

Okay listen.

During that time when he's a fugitive, it seems fun at the start, all that running, living on the road. He thinks it gives him a thrill to constantly be chased and have the police on him all the time, constantly looking over his shoulder and staying in different hotels or living out the back of the car he just stole. He uses fake names wherever he goes, and no one, not a single person ever has the pleasure of using his real name. He steals credit cards to pay for whatever he needs, only buys enough for a few days since he knows he won't be staying in whatever area he's in for long, just long enough to get information and stay ahead of the tail.

But honestly, when he really thinks about it? All this running is getting tiring. What first was fun now seems like a chore- he can't remember the last time he had a full night of sleep, or ate a meal that wasn't cheap takeout on the back of his bike or shacked up in a hotel room so he can use the shower and sleep with a gun under his pillow, or used his real name in fact. Most people are starting to seem like a blur to him, and he's constantly changing phones and using burners so he can't be traced or caught. Sometimes on the police radio he'll catch wind of someone having seen him and he'll sigh, big and deep, and move onto the next town.

Until one day he fails to stay ahead of the curve. He's been so fucking tired lately, and he can't remember the last time the sound of sirens didn't wake him up from a short nap, but he's driving fast on the motorbike - sirens getting closer when the engine dies and splutters and he comes to a standstill in the middle of the road. He can see them on the curve of the street, flashing lights that he knows are coming for him.

He looks around and it's the dead of night- lights off in every house and apartment save one..a tiny thing clustered on the corner, where the bedroom light still flickers with life. And without really thinking about it, he dumps the newest bike behind a car in one of the neighbors garages - a problem for another time- and knocks your door.

He doesn't expect you to answer, not at this time, not when it's so late and honestly you'd be smarter not to. He looks rugged he knows that, the road hasn't exactly been kind to him. His hair has grown out and there are tired eyebags and dark circles under his eyes too but you open it, a sliver, and ask him in the sweetest voice he's ever heard. 'can I help you?'

Something knocks in his chest. You've got one of those cute face masks on, a pink pretty nightgown with stars on it and you're half hiding behind the door, and he coughs into his hand, looking over his shoulder once and makes up some lie, the only one he can think of that might get you to let him in.

'Hey sweetheart, my phone has died and I'm a pretty long way from home, would you mind letting me use your phone princess?"

And you look up at him, pretty eyes taking him in, all 6'4 of him looking a little beat up, a little worn, but a funny warmth coming from him still, and you step away from the door.

And let him in to your house and into your life.

[its-freaking-jordan]

My special flower…

Yan!Muzan Kibutsiji x fem! reader

You were an ordinary human, living in the Entertainment District until, you laid eyes on Him.For you to be something he least expects., his blue spider lily

This includes;Blood,needles,killing, eating human blood,kidnapping,cussing, sharp objects,Stalking

Main idea was from @moonnime <3

Muzan never expected to find the Blue Spider lily in years, that is until you, a mere human, who caught his attention.

You are a pretty well known person that works in the ED, people loves each of your performance that you put on for them at night. They love your voice/dancing/singing skills, but there was this one person who you caught a glimpse at in the crowd that was watching you. He worse a black fedora with a suit, his eyes were like ruby’s in your eyes.

He caught a glimpse of you, and was lost in your eyes, your eyes were blue, like the blue spider lily. He need wants you, he just knows it. He knows that you would be his last piece..

Once your performance was over, you gathered all of your belongings together, and packed it up for the night, quickly you found your blindfold and put it on, changing your hair as well. You were making your way to a food stand, all of a sudden you blacked out..

You woke up to a new place, to you it looked pretty but also confusing. There was many rooms just by the looks of it, you can get lost in seconds, then you heard a Biwa play. You’re in a new room, it looked nice. The door creaked open and you saw the Man who caught your attention at the ED.

“So you’re awake, good. How are you my dear?” Before you can speak he interrupted you. “My name is Muzan..Muzan Kibutsji, you wont be needing this blindfold while you are with me..”

Thats how you ended up here, Everyday was a nightmare to you. You’re never able to leave, see the sun or your family and friends. Muzan swore to you that they are safe, but you highly doubt it. You met his Uppermoons but you are forbidden to speak to them. He had killed your family though, and ate them too. He didn’t want them to be around you, or try to find a way to communicate with you.

One time before he kidnapped you, he was watching you from afar. I mean he knew everything about you. Blood type, favorite food ect. He even sent his Uppermoons to watch over you when he couldn’t. He did knock you out cold, using his sharp nails to draw your blood and using a needle to take some it to use as a experiment.

“Y/N come here..” He sounded rather annoyed with you. You on the other hand was shaking like hell. You had no idea what you did, you did everything he said to do right? A giant pit was in your stomach, you heard Muzan from his lab area. Making you way to the door, your just standing there, debating is you really want to open the door or not. You know he has eyes all over the place, especially on you too. You sighed and opened the door to be met with a furious Muzan. He motioned for you to enter and close the door behind you, being scared enough you did it without a question. A hard slap was on your face, causing you to stumble back.

“Just the hell where we’re you last night and, did I specifically tell you to not leave?” He asked demanding you to answer him back almost instantly. Then it hit you, Akaza and you we’re outside watching the fireworks he told you about, but little did you know. Muzan saw you both. You were at a lost for words. “I.. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You lied almost instantly. Hoping he would buy it. Another slap was heard through the air, this time causing blood to drip off from your cheek.

“Lie to me again Y/N and it will be worse. I’m only doing this to protect you and, you should know this. You will love and obey everything I say.”

I will do a part 2 soon..But for now this is all I have <3 Im sorry if this is not the best, I’m trying to get better.

[talvin-muircastle]

Your Mission: First, Take Care Of YOU

This has been simmering in my head for a bit, so time to get it out and onto your screens. I warn that this will run a little long and get into some unhappy topics. It's important. It is important for you. We are heading into some rough seas, and there are some things you need to think about going forward.

I am going to lead off with a cautionary tale from, oh, about thirty years ago. It's not the main topic of this post, but it illustrates it quite well:

At that time, the Internet was still a wild frontier, in ways those of you in Gen Z just can't even imagine. Some of you Millenials will remember it, of course. The Law had not really woken up to what was happening, and most people were not on the Internet. Where I lived, many people did not own a personal computer. They used one at school or work, but didn't have one at home, and laptops were rare and expensive things (and HEAVY), and smartphones just weren't.

So, those of us who got onto the Internet in a serious way were, by definition, not in the mainstream, for the most part. I was college-age, and an admin on a MU*. Some of you may need to look that up, but basically, imagine something sorta like Minecraft, but it's all text-based, and you created the world around you as you went.

A number of kids did find their way onto the 'Net: more and more people were getting computers, and America OnLine was sending everybody in America a CD-ROM, and so were other companies whose names I can barely remember now. So teenagers and even younger kids were coming into our MU*. Banning them was impossible: they'd just lie about their age. So, instead, I took on an extra role of "KidWiz" (admins were "Wizards") and met them where they were. Adult areas and activities were clearly marked as offlimits, and we told them that if we caught them there, they would be in trouble. We worked to make the place welcoming to them.

Of course, this soon attracted predators. There was a rumor at the time that "Talvin" had some sort of AI monitoring chat (please, we can't get AI to work right now, nevermind in the mid-90s!), because they learned that I, or one of the others, would show up very quickly to kick them off. And we did send one to prison. There was no AI: I gained the trust of the teens, and even recruited a few of the older and more responsible ones to the Staff that handled things in areas they could access, and they were sick of being stalked like that, so as soon as somebody showed up looking for "jailbait", one of us Adults heard from one of the kids and BAM! To the moon!

As I had gained their trust, they started bringing things to me. Then, as now, the adage was, "If something happens, tell an adult" but, sadly, our little corner of the early 'Net was one of the few places the Adults would actually listen. There are more options, now, and better ones, but it's still a problem. I could go on, but that's a different post.

I wasn't very much older than they, but I had had similar experiences, and I did what I could. I listened, I advised, I found resources (toll-free phone numbers, they didn't have live internet chat and texting then), and I have to say my Tortured Young Geniuses (as I called them) tended to turn into adults to be proud of. One of them, I have a collection of his published works on my shelf.

Now we come to the cautionary part of this tale. I know, I took a bit to get here. Context really matters.

One evening I got an alert that we had a New Kid. I went out to meet and greet (and watch for telltale signs this was an adult trying to pretend to be a kid to get access to kids, they usually gave themselves away).

A short while later, I was on the Staff channel begging for someone to please come take this kid off my hands. That led to an All-Hands-On-Deck situation. They had seen me deal with kids dealing with abuse, kids talking to us as they were *in the process of* committing grievous self-harm, kids with situations that would make you sick to hear about it. If I was that panicked and out of my depth, this must be bad. Talvin?! What's wrong?

I had a meltdown. This was...a normal young teen. She wasn't here looking for help, she wasn't struggling with her orientation or identity, she wasn't depressed and looking for understanding, she was a "normal", healthy kid who just heard about us and came to see what we were all about. Get her away from me before I break her or something, I have nothing in common with this kid and I have no idea what to do with her!

One of the young adults took over and showed her around, made introductions, while the rest of the Staff cornered Talvin and had an Intervention!

I had gotten so focused on my "mission", my activism and the good I was trying to do in the world that I had ignored my most valuable resource: me.

We weren't using the phrase "touch grass" back then, but the idea is much older than our language: Talvin really, really needed to go outside and touch some grass.

I got more help, after that. I got told to go spend some time doing the things I had come there to do originally. To have fun. I was not abandoning my responsibilities--or rather, I had abandoned other responsibilities. A responsibility to myself.

I have not stopped being a mentor to young people in the thirty years since, though that MU* is long gone. I have gotten wiser, there are more and better resources, and of course the world has changed. Some for the better, some for the worse, some just different. But I have not forgotten the lesson of that night, though I am ashamed to say it was not the last time I ignored that wall and ran face-first into it.

We live in troubled times. There are a lot of things that will need to be done, that will need people with courage and empathy to face them. We have to take care of each other. Just do not forget to take care of yourselves.

Don't believe the tropes about Heroism. Don't throw yourself on a (metaphorical) grenade. Movies and historical narratives are full of stories about heroes who threw themselves on a grenade to save the team. Here's a bitter pill to swallow: almost always, if someone is throwing themselves on a grenade, it is because nobody planned properly for how to deal with grenades. And they knew there were going to be grenades. Put up netting, dig a trench to kick the grenades into, maybe this battle wasn't a good one to fight then and there.

Grenades are cheap, and people are expensive. If you throw yourself on a grenade, you are wasting yourself, traumatizing those around you, and telling the other side they just need to keep chucking in grenades until your side has nothing left. Too often, that sort of heroism is when somebody was stupid and somebody else got the movie rights.

You have a right and an obligation to take care of yourself first. Don't spend every minute of your time in the battlefield. You are not betraying the cause if you go watch a movie you love, or spend time playing a game with your little toy robots, or go to a live show with a DJ spinning Jazz tunes from across the decades, or whatever works for you. You are taking care of yourself, that you can better take care of others.

You not only do not have to be a grim soldier stereotype, you are failing if you do. I have known, I have lived with, people who were in the military Special Ops community. Hollywood wants you to think that they are all stern-faced John Waynes. Truth: most of them have low and evil senses of humor and a love of puns that rivals my own. One of them sat me down around the same time as that story and told me that if I didn't develop a sense of humor, the cops were going to be sniping me out of a clock tower someday. Yes: Talvin used to be known as someone with no sense of humor. If that sounds scary, well, you don't know the half of it. You would not have liked me back then, and that's fair: I didn't like me either.

You can laugh. You should laugh. In times such as these, Joy can be an act of Defiance. The man who played his cello in Sarajevo, the Auschwitz survivor who danced in the gates to the camp, they refused to allow their joy in living to be defeated. That is not abandoning responsibility or failing to show solidarity: it is a victory. Pride started as a riot, but it continued as a celebration of joy and pride. No one is defeated until you break their spirit. Laugh. Dance. Play. These things, too, are part of the fight, and they renew our spirits. And those who are wavering on which side to support will see the side that is spewing Hate, and the side that is proudly and defiantly spreading Joy, and how shall they choose between them?

Continue the fight for justice, and equality, and a good and decent world for us all. That will require some sacrifices, but don't make pointless sacrifices. Virtue signaling doesn't work: or rather, it does, but not for your side.

Please, take it from someone who has been there: if all you can see is the fight, you are not seeing the big picture, and you are not taking care of yourself. Step away, get some R&R. Take care of yourself.

We love you, and we need you. And you need you too.

[sgiandubh]

Anatomy of a lie: the French connection

With a very short day in sight at the office, I exceptionally go back to the whole Rash sightings colossal bullshit, for the sake of science. By now, we know *urv denied sending the submittal to Deux Moi: something I also expected to happen, in the context of her current feud with Miss Marple (way more reasonable and probably also way better informed).

Going back on memory lane, let's remember how the Rash Innuendo started. With this, conveniently kept under covers and then brought to light when Rash's name was out on the market:

I have one very important thing to comment: no one, no woman in her right mind, no matter if she is an art gallery owner, a lawyer, a teacher, a pop star on drugs or a fashionista wannabe (like Rash) would ever wear a baseball cap inside a French restaurant that is not: a) a trucker's pit stop joint on l'Autoroute du Soleil (the Sun Highway, A6/A7, relays Paris to Marseille) or b) a Burger King franchise in Seine-Saint-Denis (the infamous Neuf-Trois, or 93, after the INSEE's topographical code number for car plates and counties: in short, Paris's metropolitan area Bronx, if you wish, where all the riots start). Especially "a bougie" one: you do not have the slightest clue about real, living and breathing bourgeois French women (madame Mère's friends and also my own uni mates), quite a different species from the Californian one. Rash is anything but bourgeois, Canadian or not (yet a Canadian who lived in Paris and as such must be familiar with that code). I am talking string of pearls and tailleur Chanel/ petite robe noire and Vuitton bag and Louboutins. On a daily basis and even on the subway. Not baseball caps and scattered shopping bags at the Hôtel Costes.

No client of that restaurant (I forgot to mention yesterday) would ever take pictures with their phones. This informed me about the fact (FACT) you have never been to France, let alone ever set foot in a French high-end joint. French people prefer living their social life outside of their homes. When invited at someone's place for dinner, you can be sure you are, by now: a) intimate; b) a very close, trusted and valued friend; c) someone to be absolutely included in their social circle, for various reasons (high level networking dinners in Paris come to mind: something I know very well). So, restaurant it is for everything like: bantering, flirting, getting to know each other, spending quality time with witty and hysterically funny people, looking for a new job, getting a new job, looking for a new investor in your projects, the possibilities are endless. That being said, conversation at that table is sacred: your full attention must be there at all times, repartee and consistency are expected. No one, literally no one will spend their time scanning the room for a B-list actor kissing a blonde trophy woman in public, nonetheless. Read my lips: not a soul - they would be all engrossed in whatever the talk is about at their table.

The game shifted to a superior gear with this French speaking Anon:

Someone saw something louche/amiss in all this and reacted:

The French is NOT 'too good'. That French is semi-vulgar and provincial, as in the crude and pauper ils étaient l'un sur l'autre (I was expecting a je te jure/ I swear to you that never came and it usually does). And what to say about elle semble beaucoup plus réelle que les autres filles? It's Google Translate all the way. A real, walking talking French person would have said something along the lines of: elle semble beaucoup plus crédible/vraisemblable que les autres filles (she looks way more credible than the other girls), simply because réel(le), in spoken and written nowadays French, always applies to concepts, never to people: un réel plaisir (very contrived), for instance. C'est quelqu'un de réel means absolutely nothing and I would laugh like a drain if I heard someone telling me something like this. Last but not least, despite insisting it was a different Anon, they all seem to use the same words: they had lots of fun/ils s'amusaient vraiment. Something you use all the time, too. Of course.

Keep your hands off France, madam. Très facile de s'y prendre les pieds dans le tapis. And for once, I am not going to translate, since you speak it so well and I am sure you got the message.

PS: The closest to a real French bourgeois woman (last pics included) is C. And FYI, that is not my style: I dress like a preppy since I was 15 and I am very happy with it.