#always checking if i haven't been removed and blocked

[stellarhoxy]

idk about you but i saw some tiny influx of ppl say "oh it should be x who's (the wife/bottom/pregnant/etc...) not y " in some ship work around and i wanna say... don't. do this... even if you know OP likes that interchangably, i find it still really rude. when op makes transformative work, there's usually a reason why they made it that way not the other. Just appreciate the creation they've given you, as it stands. In my opinion saying that "oh but x should be bottom" is like saying "oh but i don't like how red this artwork is, can it be blue instead?"I get we each have preferences, but let's be respectful to eachother....

[benedictscanvas]

i came across “i saved you a seat” and immediately fell in love with your writing 🥹🥹

could i request a jamie tartt x fem!reader where they both like each other but they’re both too scared to act on it so they’re kinda snappy to each other? and then angry love confession 🥹🥹🥹

only if you have the time!! love your writing so much <3

thank you my lovely, lovely anon <3 i loved the idea of this so much, but i'm not super happy with it, i think because i often struggle to write enemies to lovers in a oneshot without feeling unrealistic?? i hope you still like it and are happy to suspend some reality with me haha | 2.4k words!! tw language

"Tartt!' you bellowed across the dressing room, enjoying the way most of the team jump at your sudden commotion. The man himself just turned his head to you nonchalantly, and it only fuelled your fire, "Your fucking car is blocking me in."

"Right," he said, prolonging the sound, "And y' telling me because...?"

"Just move it, dickhead," you sighed, still in the doorway, "It's a bloody eyesore and all."

"She is a classic. And classy. Two things you wouldn't know anythin' about."

You snorted at that one, but refused to take the bait, flipping him off as you marched out of there and back the way you came towards the car park. Jamie was sure to make you wait but he would move it eventually. He wasn't a total monster.

Actually, everything would have been easier if he was a total monster, like he used to be. Now he was nice to everyone and smiled all the time and had way better hair - but he still couldn't bring himself to change his attitude towards you. Always at your throat.

You stood waiting for him, head buried in your arms that rested on your car. Eventually, you heard footsteps, but you didn't bother to raise your head.

"Where'd y' expect me to move it? No spaces, love."

"Just out of the way," you groaned into your forearms, "God, Jamie, I need to get home, would y' just do it?"

"No need to get funny 'bout it," he said and you lifted your head to glare at him to find him smirking, "What're you so desperate to be home for anyway?"

"Fuck off, Jamie," you said, staring out at the pitch behind him, "What is your problem?"

"My problem?" he said incredulously, taking a step towards you to force you to look at him, "I asked about what you were up to, Y/N, what the fuck?"

"I just don't need this right now, Jamie."

"Don't need what?"

"You!" you exclaim, pushing yourself away from your car and even closer to him, "Prancing about being a total dick to me and positively lovely to everyone else. I haven't got any fucking patience left for it, I need to get home because I just got a call that my entire kitchen is flooded, if you must know."

He just stared at you. Unflinching. You sighed, defeated, no venom left in your tone.

"Just move the car, Jamie. Please."

“Yeah, fuck, okay,” he said, voice small, “I’ll move it, alright?”

You went back to your previous position, arms on the car, this time with your head in your hands. It really shouldn’t bother you this much, but you decided to blame it on your shitty day rather than Jamie himself or the way you found yourself looking at him sometimes. The way you wished he’d just be nice to you, even for a moment. You weren’t an idiot - you knew that you’d never been nice to him, that he had no reason to change. It was just too terrifying - the idea of trying to be nice and him deciding he hated you anyway. Or that maybe he was never the prick and it had been you all along. All of it was too much.

A soft hand on your shoulder brings you out of your head, and you see Jamie standing sheepishly in front of you. You stared at his hand for a moment, but he’s quick to remove it. When you check, his car is categorically not out of your way - he’s moved it so that it’s blocking the exit instead. You felt the horrible sting of tears welling up and ducked your head to hide them.

“What have I done to you?” you ask miserably and his brow furrows before he realises what you’re talking about.

“No, fuck, no,” he mutters, leaning his head back to sky in frustration, “I’m not- Look, let me drive you home. You’ll need someone else there if your kitchen is flooded.”

So that was why he hadn’t moved his car properly - it was ready to go. He was ready to go, keys still in his hand, despite the fact he hadn’t got his bag or anything. One of the pesky tears fell and you brushed the traitor away with harsh fingertips.

“You’re in no state to drive, yeah? I won’t even talk the whole way, just let me-”

He trails off. You’re tired to the bones. It would probably take more effort at this point to convince him not to come with you, so although you can’t work out his angle, you nod your head and start walking over to his car, only stopping when he bounds ahead of you to open the passenger door for you. You furrow your brow at him, but climb in nonetheless and the two of you are speeding off into the setting sun before you know it.

The quiet bothers you. He said he wouldn’t speak, and he was sticking to it, but you were desperate to fill the awful silence.

“Why are you doing this?” you ask, hating the way your voice sounds with the lump still in your throat, “You hate me.”

Jamie laughed then, but it wasn’t the same sound that echoed through the corridors at Richmond from the dressing room. It was much harsher than that.

“Y’ mean, you hate me,” he argued, “That’s how we work, ain’t it? You hate me so I get under y’ skin for fun and then y’ hate me more.”

You stared at the side of his face, even though his gaze didn’t falter from the road ahead.

“You…don’t hate me?”

“Trust me, you’re fuckin’ annoying as shit sometimes. And I’ve tried. But no. Can’t seem to.”

Can’t seem to? That was such a weird way to put it. You shook your head as you returned your own eyes to the road.

“You’re such a dickhead to me, Jamie,” you murmured, hands rigid in your lap, “I know you used to be a dickhead to everyone including me, but now you’re nice to everyone except me. It’s shitty.”

“Yeah, cause you’re shitty!” he exclaimed, slapping a hand against the steering wheel in frustration, “I get that I used to be awful, fuckin’ hell, but it’s like y’ remind me everyday. Like I can’t escape it with you.”

“I was willing to give you a chance when you came back…”

“No, y’ fuckin’ weren’t. Nobody was. And it took ages, but I won ‘em all over except you.”

You stayed quiet for a few seconds. You hadn’t been ready to give him a chance at first, he was right, but it had been months since Jamie came back. You wondered if it had always been a chicken and egg situation - both of you rude to the other for no other reason than the other’s rudeness. Than the fear of trying kindness and having it rejected outright.

“I couldn’t be nice to you when you came back,” you eventually speak up, picking at your nails and staring down at them intently, “What if I was nice and you were still a prize prick? It was fucking scary. I don’t like getting hurt.”

He scoffed, and you felt some of your vulnerability coming back to bite you already.

“Y’ don’t like getting hurt? But you had no problem hurting me every fuckin’ day, huh?”

He was practically snarling by the end of your sentence. You felt sick. This is exactly what you’d been afraid of - show a little vulnerability at how you struggled with the new him, and have it thrown back in your face. The walls were rebuilding themselves as you spoke.

“Why the fuck would my shitty little comments hurt you, Jamie? Thought y’ didn’t give a single shit what I think of you.”

“Well, maybe I fuckin’ do!”

“Do what?” you said, volume rising along with his.

He groaned, a strangled sound, as he pulled the car over at the nearest kerb a little too quickly for your liking. You reached out to the door handle to steady yourself, glaring at him when you came to a stop and he turned the engine off.

“I’m not doin’ this now. I said I’d take you home without talkin’ so let’s just do that, yeah?” he said, seething. There was no way that was happening now.

“No. You tell me what you mean so we can finally settle this.”

Another strangled groan, this time accompanied by him bashing his head into the steering wheel and then leaving it there, muttering to himself. You continued to glare at him until he finally turned his head to look at you, temple still against his hands.

“Fine. Fuckin’ fine,” he said angrily, leaning back in his chair and making proper eye contact with you for the first time since you’d entered his car. You could feel your heart thrumming in your chest, in your ears, “You’ve always been so fuckin’ headstrong, and you don’t take shit, and you’re nice to everyone but me-”

“Yeah, because -”

“Just listen for a minute, would ya?” he scowled and you shut up despite yourself, “Look, I don’t need to tell ya that you’re fuckin’ fit. You just are. Always had a thing for you, back in the day, but it was jus’ physical, yeah? Cause you’d shout at me and look all hot doin’ it. Now I’ve been back for like, what, three months? An’ it’s like a full blown fuckin’ crush or something. I hate it. I see you being all kind and shit to someone and then I come along and you say somethin’ all snarky and I just-”

You were hanging on his every word. When he hesitated, you couldn’t help yourself.

“You just what?” you said softly, leaning closer to the center console without even meaning to. He sighs, but that same frustration seems to have dissipated during his speech, and now he can’t look at you again, instead fiddling with a loose thread on his shorts.

“I just go all weak. In me knees, and that. It’s so stupid.”

You know your eyes must be comically wide right now, breath coming out in silly little pants.

“You have a crush on me? You snap at me because…you like me?”

“God, don’t say it like that,” he moans, dramatically banging his head against the steering wheel again to hide his face, and his blush, you can safely assume, “How embarrassing is it to have a crush on a girl who hates my guts?”

“Ugh, are you really going to be so self-deprecating that you’re going make me say it?” you whined, watching when he peeks out from the steering wheel at you with one eye, “Fine. But if this is all some joke and you’re horrible after this I’m getting out of the car.”

He nods eagerly, sitting back up again. He’s such a puppy, you wonder how you’ve ever been anything but nice to him for a second.

“I used to have an awful thing for you,” you said quickly, closing your eyes when you see his whole face light up, “When you were a prick. You were awful and I still wanted to jump on you any given second. That really was embarrassing. So when you came back, I swore to myself I wouldn’t let myself like you because I knew then I’d end up…liking you. If you get what I mean.”

“You’re saying you snap at me because you like me too?”

“Liked, Jamie,” you corrected, wagging a stern finger, “And please keep in mind that I hadn’t been with anyone for a while and my judgement was poor.”

“Well yeah, if you liked me when I was terrible, like. But I don’t think your judgement would be that bad if y’ happened to like me now?”

It was the first time you’d ever heard his teasing, flirty tone turned on you. It was very difficult not to get flustered and though you tried, you could tell you were failing when you tucked your hair behind your ear.

“There’s a lot of bridges to cross before we get there,” you said, but there’s a smile hovering on your lips, “We need to learn how to be nice to each other without being scared we’ll end up ridiculed.”

He nodded again, dutifully. You get used to agreeing with him.

“How about we start by getting back to my house? This flood thing is real, y’know?”

“Oh shit!” he exclaimed, turning the engine back on suddenly, “Sorry, I’m sorry, I genuinely forgot.”

You laugh a little as he pulls back out onto the road and continues driving, gratified when he chuckles too and its closer to the warmth you usually hear in his laugh. It’s never been because of you before.

"You are classy by the way. And a classic. Some of the insults I've used for ya have made no fuckin' sense. And I'm sorry."

It meant more to hear that than you could possibly tell him now. Maybe some other time, when a few more things were mended, you could tell him that his apology meant everything to you.

"I'm sorry, too. Really sorry, actually. I think we've both...god we've been so unfair to each other."

"We have, yeah."

"I quite like your car really."

He just smiles at that, warmth flowing from it as he looks over at you from his spot in the driver's seat to make sure you've seen it.

Soon, you found the car enveloped in a far more comfortable silence than before for a while, only interrupted when Jamie pulls up to your house after a few directions from you to get the right one. You sit in the car for a few moments, both waiting for the other to speak, until you decided to just go for it.

“If we can fix this stupid kitchen, maybe…” you felt yourself scared to offer, still worried about being turned down or rejected or made fun of, but you pushed the anxiety down into the pit of your stomach and continued, “Maybe you can stay. For a cuppa. We could, y'know, actually talk to each other? See how long this truce lasts?”

“Mhm, okay,” he said, but when you sneak a glance at him, he’s grinning like a madman, “Okay. Guess I could stay for a bit.”

“Just the one cup though, yeah?” you confirm, but you’re grinning too, and you hope he’s noticed.

“One cup. Wouldn’t dream of two.”

(but he stays for four, including one with breakfast the next morning, and somehow, the two of you are pretty damn nice to each other the whole time)

[neoarchipelago]

Madripoor High (Part 1)

A/N: ok so hum... First part of something new... I have no idea for a title so please throw some ideas in the comments... Yes i have added a little hint of marvel but it is not in the marvel universe! I just love Madripoor. I kinda have the tittle 'Madripoor High' in mind but I'm not sure... Don't even know if I'll keep this going just... Let me know in the comments. Also edited this on my phone... Kinda sucky, I'll put it back correctly if I do keep it going.

Warnings: sexual talk, weapons etc.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Cars passing by and people walking to their destinations. The busy city boomed around you, muffled by the headphones on your head. Your music blocked the chaos of London. You enjoyed London. You found it beautiful. Amongst all the countries you've been to… and that list was quite long, you enjoyed the weather. Exactly. The gloomy, rainy weather. The black umbrella shielding you from the crystal droplets as you walked to a small cafe. You were greeted as you entered, dropping your shield at the entrance before taking place at a table in a corner far from others.

Your coat was removed, your backpack opened to free your laptop. The nice waitress walked to you after several minutes, asking for your order.

"I'd like a hazelnut cappuccino and… the crumble please" you answered with a smile.

As she walked away you looked around, the almost empty cafe was quiet, the few people chatting or working. You smirked, turning to your laptop you went to check for your payment. You smiled as you watched the enormous figure in your credit account. Yes. Credit. Because in the underground, money is important, but credits… Those are so much more valuable. The Madripoor currency.

Sighing, you let yourself lean back on the sofa chair, crossing your arms. You were proud. After everything you've gone through, you have managed to become one of the most prized citizens of Madripoor. The hard work you've put in has paid off, the contracts have piled up, the price tag always climbing up. Your speciality? Tracking. To get into details, it was hacking. Now you mostly used it to track down targets for big mean people who always have something against another big mean one. You were good. You were the fucking best. So yes. You were proud, even if you had no one to be proud of you.

Cup placed in front of you, you were taken out of your daydream. You smiled up, thanking the waitress, closing your laptop and pushing it to the side to bring your little treats closer to you. Contract over, now you were free until you accepted the next one. It would fall quite fast, yes, but you thought you might get some rest. Go back to Madripoor, to Hightown, and rest.

You took a bite of the crumble, feeling the sweetness of it making you relax. You thought you might go shopping once you'd got back. Maybe you'd stay in and play, watch some movies. Maybe you'd go to Downtown…

A soft buzz captured your attention. You grabbed your phone, looking at the screen. Someone was calling. No one called. Very few… barely anyone had this number. It was used for emergencies only and it had been a year and half since it rang. You frowned. It foreshadowed something entirely different than a break. You sighed. Curiosity eating at you. Before it was too late you answered.

"Hello?"

"Tracker."

You frowned. A woman's voice. A woman who knew your screen name. Only people from Madripoor knew it. Or people extremely close to Madripoor.

"Be quick." You said.

"You were never patient muñeca."

Muñeca. Doll. In Spanish. You sighed, closing your eyes.

"Valeria, you fucking bitch, I thought you were in jail."

"I was. I got out. Then that cabron de Alejandro trapped me."

You smirked. Alejandro. You haven't met the man, but by the amount of times she had complained about him, it's like you knew him already. A little voice was heard behind her, notifying you that she wasn't alone in that call.

"Where are you calling me from?"

"A military base. I need your help."

"No."

"You didn't listen."

"Go on I'm listening."

"We need help to find-"

"No."

She sighed. Helping her? It was already risky. You could. You could get her out and free her but she'd get herself into trouble again. Helping the military? You? Tangled in the deepest roots of criminality? It was the stupidest thing to ask of you.

"Come on. You love a challenge. And I have one just for you."

"It doesn't matter if I love a challenge. You're on high speaker aren't you?"

"Well-"

"Of course you are. They wouldn't let you call anyone without supervision. They know who I am? They know what I do?"

"They do." She said, a hint of amusement in her voice.

"So what's going to happen? I help and then what? They got pretty little pink handcuffs for me?"

"Well you can ask the skull face to put them on. Or the ADHD Scot." She answered even more amusedly.

"Valeria… what?" You asked confused.

"Come on. It'll be very interesting. I know you're curious. And this… is like tracking a sin cara."

"A no face?"

Damn. She might succeed to make you interested. But she might be bluffing as well.

"Yes. We need to find Echo."

"Echo? The scientist working for various cartel's and Mafia bosses? The man that no one has ever met or even seen?" You asked, irony dripping from your tongue.

"Are you skeptical?"

"Echo doesn't exist. It's a stupid invention from some idiots to sell products at a higher price. You're wasting my time. Goodbye and good luck Valeria" You rolled your eyes.

"I have proof."

You froze. Proof? Now curiosity prickled your skin. What kind of proof? How did they get it?

"Hello?"

"Shut up. I'm thinking."

She chuckled on the other side.

"We've heard that your work is based on contracts. We'd like to offer you a contract." A voice rang.

The raspy voice was soft but commanding. A man, probably in his 40's. He sounded calm, determined.

"And who might you be?" You asked, taking a sip of your cappuccino who was growing cold.

"I'm Captain John Price."

A captain. Fair enough.

"What kind of contract?"

"You help us, we find Echo, we neutralize him and get Intel. You get immunity on this mission and after your part is done, you have 24 hours to vanish."

You thought about the question. Finding Echo. Might be the golden contract for you. Not that you needed it. But this… this was a challenge. Not the boring easy tracks that you had to do. You knew how even the high table of Madripoor was starting to get annoyed about this intriguing character. Countering rules in Hightown and Downtown. This might be an opportunity to kill two birds with one stone. You looked around you, at the calm cafe. Fuck… you might not get that break after all. You closed your eyes, preparing yourself to accept a deal you might regret.

"48 hours. Full immunity from the moment I step into your base until the end of the contract. I do things my way. You get your guy, your Intel. That's it. I'm not getting in the middle of the cartel's and other big brainless gorillas." You stated.

"Fine." You heard after a few pending seconds.

"Alright. I'll think about it." You finished.

"Didn't you just agree?" Another voice rang.

This time it was more… alive. The Scottish accent meant it was one of the men Valeria had mentioned.

"I'll agree when you'll receive the contract. I have to check something before I agree. I'll contact you and travel to you. Don't worry, you'll get an answer in the next few hours." You explained, opening your laptop.

"Should we send you a location? An email?" Another voice again. British accent but cute voice.

"No. I know where you are. I know how to contact you. I'll do so when the time's come."

"How?" The Scottish voice echoed in your ear.

"Oh… she'll have no problem with it." Valeria answered.

"See you soon." You concluded, hanging up.

Entering the base was easy. The new recruits keeping the gates were easily distracted. You infiltrated the base, making sure to deviate the cameras and stealing a 'visitor' badge.

You walked around, white wool shirt, black shorts with tights. Thigh high socks over your tights and comfy running shoes. Your black backpack and phone in hand. Sometimes, the best way to hide is to get attention… especially from men. You'd feel the looks, the way they were directed to your thick thighs, or neck, in plain view as you had pulled your hair back.

You were chubby, not exactly thin, tummy showing and chubby cheeks. At least, that was what was usually romanticized, the thighs, ass and boobs being overly sexualized. You wanted to roll your eyes. But eventually sometimes, men or women easily fall for it.

You took your time to walk around, discovering the grounds, the badge often being watched by what seemed to be higher ups. You'd fain innocence and bat your lashes when getting caught in places you shouldn't be, before letting them turn their backs and walking straight to where you wanted to. You weren't exactly wanting to be hidden right now. You were good at it. Hiding. But right now you wanted to explore.

The contract had been sent, signed and sent. You had gotten a chance to engage with the high table who agreed to such a contract. You didn't really need their approval. But you didn't want your place in Madripoor to be compromised by working with 'the good guys'. Not only did the high table saw no problem in it but they greatly appreciated you going after Echo. You were right, the character was definitely getting on their nerves, the echoes of him creating some ruckus in downtown.

You walked around a huge warehouse, military gear sprawled around. Most were used for training. You heard some noise not too far, deciding to hide behind big wooden shipping boxes. Voices echoed through the big place. You tried not to look too much. If you can see them, they can see you. You'd rather use your other senses to localize them. You only took one glance at two men standing back to you near a table full of items. One was overly talking while the other one rummaged through what seemed to be his gear bag. The man talking had a mohawk. It made you smile. The other one… was obviously wearing something over his head, but with their backs turned to you, you couldn't make out any more details.

The light reflected into the shinny blade of a combat knife. You blinked, almost hypnotized by it. You wanted it. The two men walked away, still babbling. You waited a few minutes before stepping out of your hiding place, going straight for the bag. You opened it, looking through the different things, looking for the pretty black mat combat knife. You almost jumped in place when you found it, taking the thingy with you before skipping back to your little exploration. This time, in a much more concealed way.

You watched, you spied. You wanted to understand how the base worked before letting yourself meet your contractors. Above the training ground, higher up in some kind of level that was used to put away all the training mats and other training things. It was the perfect spot to look over the training grounds, inside of the warehouse. You watched the men fight each other. It was almost entertaining. Your eyes caught the mohawk boy again, teasing another man. The boy with a cap seemed to joyfully indulge in whatever he was saying.

They looked next to them, a big figure stepping into view. You frowned. The man's face was veiled with a mask, a skull… it wasn't printed. Was it a real skull? You put two and two together, now realizing this was the owner of the combat knife. You chuckled to yourself. As he stopped into the training ring, young recruits palling, your interest peaked.

Thirsty minutes passed by in a flash. You watched in amusement and almost in awe how the mountain of a man threw around the soldiers. He was strong. Fast. You could hear him scold every wrong move of the poor soldiers who faced him. He seemed to look around swiftly every time he had a break.

You stretched, feeling your limbs getting sore from sitting here watching the show. You blinked, watching down again, telling yourself that you should get going.

Eyes. Dark eyes. Looking straight at you. Your breath caught in your throat, a cold wave running through you. His gaze was cold looking up through the mask. You immediately rushed back behind something to hide. How? How?! You wore nothing shiny. You made sure that nothing could reflect light. You were hiding perfectly. How?!

You wanted to take another glance but it was too dangerous. You decided to get moving, your position now compromised. You hopped around to reach ground level. You skipped your way into an empty part of the warehouse. You remained as silent as possible, making sure that even your steps were inaudible. After twenty long minutes you allowed yourself to breathe. Maybe he hadn't seen you in the darkness and you were fine. It had been three hours that you were on base, and you were getting slightly hungry. Perhaps you'd get a snack before finally meeting the contractors.

You looked around, trying to figure which way out could lead you to a building where there was food. The empty warehouse only seemed to echo the voices of soldiers outside, barely audible and muffled. You grabbed your phone, walking towards a back door. Maybe you'd get off base to eat and then come back. You were craving pizza, perhaps-

You slammed against a wall. Not exactly a wall. A wall of a man. You looked up. Eyes falling into a skull mask. Shit. Something told you. That playing innocent. Batting your lashes, won't help with this one. You took a step back, his brows furrowing. You both froze for a split second, tension giving you goosebumps before you reacted the only way your brain could at the moment. You ran.

Throughout the warehouse, jumping over gear, boxes and other stuff that you didn't mind to look at. Why were you running? You were supposed to have immunity. But he didn't know who you were. Not yet. The sound of his heavy boots was the only thing you could hear. Shit the man was swift. He was fast and nimble. You parkoured your way to the back door, almost reaching it until you were tackled against a wall. The shock made you wince, cursing out. You were stuck. Stuck in between a wall, and a strong body. Unfortunately you had both run to a dark corner of the warehouse. You could barely see his eyes in the darkness. You were panting.

He shared your gaze. Eyes never leaving yours. The darkness of them made you shiver. It was odd. That tingly feeling all over you. You barely realized how your wrists were pinned above your head, in his large hand. Didn't even notice his other hand… around your throat. He wasn't applying pressure. He was securing you in place, warning you. You were trapped. You have been trapped very often at the beginning of your… career. However, it had never made you feel like this. Small. Hunted. Like a prey under the claws of a predator. There was no ego, no dumb boy trying to prove something. He had chased you down on instinct, caught you in a primal way. Honestly. It was hot. Thrilling.

"Who are you?" His deep voice said.

Shit… even his voice was hot. Putting your new kink aside, you frowned, gaining back some composure.

"Santa Claus." You let out ironically.

The hand around your throat squeezed menacingly. You gasped. He remained silent awaiting your new answer.

"I.. I'm a visitor." You tried, maybe the innocent act would work.

He pulled on your wrists, having you on your toes now. A last warning.

"T..tracker…" you mumbled.

He seemed in thought for a few seconds before releasing the pressure on your neck and wrists, but keeping them in his hold.

"How did you get in?" He questioned.

Ah yes… the usual interrogation.

"The young boys at the entrance are easily distracted…" you mumbled again.

You weren't pissed. You weren't exactly pouting… maybe a bit. You weren't expecting to be caught, or to be put in your place. You weren't expecting to be under someone's hold like this. You looked away.

"You armed?" He asked.

"I have my phone. It's the only weapon I need." You said, keeping the combat knife a little secret. Mostly because you wanted to keep it and he won't let you. He straightened himself, towering over you.

"I'm going to let you go. You better behave." He warned.

God.. you wanted to brat. You wanted to anger him and test him. You rolled your eyes at him, as the hand holding your wrists released. However the other remained on your throat. You frowned looking up at him, as your hands wrapped around his wrist. He stepped closer to you, eyes never leaving yours. Now what was he doing? He said he was letting you go…

Eyes widening, you felt the other hand roam your waist. You tried to push him away but he squeezed at your throat keeping you in place, your hands flying to his chest to fist in shirt. The hand traveled to your sides, down your back, then back to your side to finally reach your thighs.

"S..stop!" You let out, blushing.

"Breathe… I'm checking for weapons." He said in a chuckle.

He frowned, his hand meeting the handle of… shit. The combat knife was tucked into the back of your shorts, hidden by your shirt. You closed your eyes as he pulled it out.

"No weapons huh? You're already-" he stopped looking at the handle. "That's my fucking knife. You stole it?"

"I borrowed it. Sharing is caring right? We're on the same team…" you answered with a smile.

He put away his knife before spinning you around, bringing your back to his chest. How the hell did he move so fast?! How did he manage to pin your wrists behind you… and HANDCUFF YOU?

"Hey! Where's my immunity?" You complained.

"I'm not arresting you."

"You're handcuffing me to satisfy a kink?" You teased him in a bitter tone.

"I'm keeping you from stealing again. And I'm taking you to Price."

"Who?"

No answer, he simply pulled you forward, holding your wrists behind your back. Well. Wasn't this the perfect start to a contract?

[punsmaster69]

25/FEB/20XX

light shot into my sockets from the right side. a pillow had been removed from my enclosure. i squint through the light to see frisk.

raising an eyebrow, they gestured to the pile around me on the couch.

"(migraine.)"

they slowly point to the light switch.

"(nope.)"

i point to papyrus, who's focused on a puzzle that came with the newspaper.

"(staying on.)"

"(.....I'm sure he'll understand??)"

"(he would more than understand. he'd probably make a point of assuring i was comfortable.)"

"(..And that's supposed to be a bad thing?)"

"(he's having fun with what he's doing. don't want to suddenly switch him to worry mode.)"

"(I doubt-)"

"(besides. this works fine.)"

"(well, it did before you opened a window in it.)"

shoving my face into the cushion of the couch to continue blocking out the light, i felt the pillow replaced to where it was.

a weight settled on the other end of the couch, then against the pillow and blanket cocoon of mine.

"(So, he hasn't questioned why you're doing this at all?)"

"(told him i was cold.)"

"(It's.. not cold out today.)"

"(believed it anyway.)"

"(Isn't it the opposite under there?)"

"(yeah. kinda burning up, but it's a small price to pay for darkness.)"

"(Why aren't you in your room or something??)"

"(he'd definitely know something was up.)"

"(Dude...)"

"(he would know.)"

"(I don't doubt that, but the lengths you go to just to... NOT worry him.)"

"(i wouldn't say lengths.)"

"(Heights?)"

"(c'mon-)"

"(Widths?)"

"(this is nothin'.)"

"(Well it's not less than something.)"

"(eh.)"

"(what're you up to out there?)"

"(I'm not done talking about you.)"

"(.......k.)"

"(You take something already?)"

"(the less strong kind, but it doesn't interact with my prescription ones.)"

"(Right.)"

"(Just a normal migraine, you think?)"

"(it's kinda centralized around my right eye, which...)"

i was about to sigh, then realized that would probably grab papyrus' attention.

"(i don't love, but it feels mostly normal.)"

"(What's the meter say?)"

trying to not knock over my whole pile to check, i tap the screen to see a red light.

no idea how long it's been like that for.

"(...i'm good.)"

"(let me ask again what you're up to?)"

they were silent for a moment as if wondering something else, but answered anyway.

"(Got bored, and Flowey was being annoying. So I came here.)"

"(you were so nice to him at first.)"

"(I was worried he'd leave or go on a murderous rampage again or something.)"

"(or try and take everyone's souls?)"

"(....I don't think he'll do that one again.)"

"(me either, mostly.)"

"(I'd kick his petals in again for sure.)"

"(Emotionally.)"

"(....Though, I...)"

"(..Would probably have to use SAVEs again to do that.)"

"(listen, if that petalhead went and took everyone's souls?)"

"(i give you full permission to god-mode the timeline or whatever else you need to 'emotionally kick his petals in'.)"

"(I haven't... done that in a while, actually.)"

"(loading?)"

"(Obviously not.)"

"(That would be going back on our promise.)"

"(I meant SAVING.)"

"(...hm.)"

"(Should I?)"

"(In case one of us gets in some tragic accident.)"

"(your call, kiddo.)"

"(if you meet him, tell the next sans i said that.)"

"(Let's hope I don't have to.)"

"(can i ask what's made you so sure flowey won't leave anymore?)"

"(If he wanted to, he totally could have multiple times.)"

memory of an orange sky and empty field come to mind.

"(yeah. true.)"

"(He's stormed off a couple times, but he always returns.)"

"(kid's gotten attached to you.)"

"(Not just me.)"

"(definitely to my bro, too. and tori.)"

"(In a weird way, I think he likes you too.)"

"(tolerates me for paps' sake.)"

"(Definitely part of it, but I don't know. He doesn't utterly recoil whenever you're mentioned like he used to.)"

"(heheh. getting that kind of reaction just by entering the room was pretty funny.)"

"(I'm glad he's warmed up to everyone though.)"

"('cept undyne. he's got beef with her still.)"

"(The thing with Undyne is more like rivalry.)"

"(They have more fun going at each other's throats than they admit to.)"

"(you think it'd turn into all-out war if my bro wasn't the middleman?)"

"(Papyrus is like the glue between most of this friend group.)"

they must have said his name slightly too loud.

"HM?"

"Oh-"

"Just talking about Flowey's friendships."

"FLOWERY HAS BEEN GETTING ALONG WITH EVERYONE A LITTLE MORE AS OF LATE! I'M QUITE PROUD OF HIM."

"MY KINDNESS LESSONS TO HIM HAVE BEEN CONTRIBUTING, NO DOUBT."

"For sure!"

"(undyne and flowey stop fighting when papyrus enters the room, so he must be doing something right.)"

"WAIT, IF YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT FLOWERY AND THE PAYOFF OF MY EXCELLENT KINDNESS TEACHINGS, THAT MEANS..."

"SANS IS ACTUALLY AWAKE UNDER THERE STILL??"

"He is indeed."

i shove my hand through some pillows in a thumbs-up, then quickly pull it back slightly to hide the monitor on my arm.

"HI SANS."

"STILL FREEZING?"

"yep."

"JEEZ."

"YOU'RE NOT GETTING SICK, ARE YOU?"

"nah. just a bit extra chilly."

"left my window open all night, woke up as an ice cube."

"THIS IS WHY I TELL YOU TO CLOSE IT BY AT TEN AT THE LATEST!!"

"YOU'LL DEFINITELY GET SICK IF YOU DON'T."

"not everything's gonna make me sick."

"THE POTENTIAL FOR IT TO IS THERE."

"𝘪𝘭𝘭 be alright. 'specially for one night."

"IS IT AT LEAST CLOSED NOW?"

"uhh..."

suddenly unable to remember whether it actually 𝘄𝗮𝘀 closed.

"yyyeah..?"

"...THAT SOUNDS VERY NON-CONFIDENT."

"I'll check."

frisk's weight disappeared from the opposite end of the couch.

"I'LL ACCOMPANY YOU. WOULDN'T WANT YOU TO GET LOST IN THE PIGSTY THAT IS SANS' ROOM."

"it's not as bad as it was. promise."

his voice was more distant this time.

"RIGHT. AND THE CLOTHES ON THE FLOOR HERE AREN'T BAD AT ALL."

"it's basically clean."

"IT IS NOT."

"definitely is."

"SAY THAT AGAIN WHEN YOU CAN UN-PILLOW CASKET YOURSELF, ICE CUBE SKELETON."

taking the opportunity where neither of them were in sight, i removed the monitor and stuffed it in my pocket.

i opened a gap in the pillow enclosure to let some fresh air in.

the thud of my window shutting could be heard. footsteps stomp down the stairs.

"whoops."

"NEED I START CLOSING IT MANUALLY AT TEN ON MY OWN?"

"i'll remember eventually after freezing myself enough."

"...AS ALWAYS, THE GREAT PAPYRUS MUST TAKE RESPONSIBILITY..."

"Sans, you should set an alarm so that you actually remember."

"GOOD IDEA, FRISK!"

"SANS, GIVE ME YOUR PHONE. I'M SETTING AN ALARM FOR YOU."

"ok."

"can you also set a timer while you're at it?"

"WHAT FOR?"

"so i don't sleep the rest of the day."

"Guess it was only a matter of time before he took a nap there."

"can't resist the allure of a good nap buried in cushions."

can't overheat or suffer migraines or have to deal with magic issues if i'm asleep.

"HUMAN, DO YOU WANT TO COOK SOMETHING WITH ME?"

"Yeah!!"

"WE'LL WAKE SANS UP AFTERWARDS, THEN."

——

i was woken up to macaroni with what might be considered "definitely too much cheese" in it. not like i mind, though - and after my migraine cleared up, i was far too hungry to care.

p.s.

took care of the red monitor thing by taking shortcuts around town for a while after papyrus thought i went to bed.

is it the greatest solution?

no idea. too exhausted after that to worry about.

[hungryforpowernotfood]

There Was a Book For That This Entire Time?!

Summary: The reader gets their period & asks Stephen for help, which comes with a little more than expected (sfw)

Warning(s): menstrual/period blood (I have no idea what the quality of this is, I haven't revisited it in so long)

Pairing(s): ftm!stephen strange/ftm!reader (reader can be read as ftnb, but presents & passes as male here)

You woke up earlier than usual with a damp, sticky sensation pressed against you between your legs. You felt yourself tense up at your quick realization of what it was.

You sat in bed for a moment, telling yourself to get up before you were finally able to. The bathroom was connected to your bedroom—as per request—so you didn’t need to risk being seen by anyone. Stephen had been trying to convince you to move into the Sanctum for a while, especially because you practically lived there. He had eventually been able to win you over by offering you a bedroom with your own private bathroom—it was the only luxury he could think of to offer you, the only unique feature any of the rooms had, so you took it.

He always assumed you liked your privacy—you didn’t always study with other people, and you didn’t like meditating around other people at first. He understood the inclination towards independence, so he never questioned you.

You avoided looking in the mirror—you didn’t want to ask to have it taken out because you didn’t want to explain, and you were still learning magic. As soon as you learned a spell for it though, you would have it removed.

You changed in the bathroom after cleaning yourself up, then you did your best to wash the blood out of your clothes. You ran cold water over them, trying to wring out the blood, before eventually just putting them in to soak.

Once you finished, you left, in search of Stephen, or anyone else you could find who could help you get blood out of fabric…and potentially the mattress you may have left a stain on, though you didn’t check.

By now, the stain on your sheet was dry so you would most likely have to resort to magic.

You found Stephen in the library fairly quickly—you were sure he didn’t sleep every night, instead spending some in the library.

“Stephen?” You asked, leaning against one of the shelves.

He only hummed in response, not looking up from his book.

“Are there any spells that can clean blood?”

He looked up and gave you a suspicious look. “Why?”

“I had a nosebleed,” you lied, “I just wanted to clean it up.”

“I can clean it.” He stated, closing the book with one hand. He got up and started walking towards you, you blocked him before he could create a portal, or do anything else.

“Don’t you think I should learn? I get them often, and I’d like to know how to clean them up myself.”

“They can be tricky, but I can show you.” He moved you aside gently with an arm and drew it into a circle—forming a portal and stepping through it before you could object.

“Stephen, it's fine, I don’t need to learn it now.” You objected, but it was too late. He had paused in front of your bed, and you knew he had seen it.

Your heart pounded in your chest and in your ears.

He turned back to face you and gestured for you to step through the portal. Once you did so, he turned back to the bed and cast a spell that cleaned the blood off the bed—letting the portal fall behind you. When he was done, he conjured another portal—a smaller one this time—stuck his hand in, and pulled a book out.

He turned and handed you the book. There were a few sticky notes sticking out of the pages, and the cover looked worn and tattered.

You slowly took the book into your hands, as if you were holding an injured animal—you held all the older books that way.

“The spells for getting menstrual blood and other blood out are different because of the consistency,” He explained, “some of the spells can be a bit tricky. But if you want any help, you know where to find me.”

Stephen winked, and turned, preparing to cast another spell for a portal, when you grabbed his arm, preventing the motion.

“Wait…you’re—”

Stephen nodded. “The Ancient One gave me this book when I first came here. But I know all the spells I need from it, so now you can have it.”

You looked up at him for a moment. “Are you sure?”

“Of course. I’ve memorized everything I need from it.”

You nod.

“Oh, and y/n.”

“Hmm?"

He turns to fully face you. “I understand why you didn’t tell me this…but you can come to me with anything, okay?”

“Okay.”

He smiles at you, before drawing an arm in a circle, a portal being created with it, and exiting your room, leaving you alone with the book.

[milkybonya]

digital lover ☆ haknyeon

order 067, @sickvision : large milk tea with regular and banana tapioca pearls for tbz Haknyeon

! : mentions of a psycho ex and Hak has a restraining order on them (pls never be obsessive/toxic in ur relationships), Hak called reader 'pretty'

#: best friend!Haknyeon x gn reader, friends to lovers! , fake dating!

another day, another (fake) date with Haknyeon.

[💌: my love, i'm so sorry this took so. damn. long :( especially since it was your first request :< i hope you still enjoy it ee >_< i had fun slowly writing it bit by bit ! also tbz's comeback slays omg i'm so ?!?!]

"when you get married, i'll pay you to let me sing at your wedding," Hak says before sticking his lollipop back in his mouth.

the two of you are sat in your bedroom, just hanging out as you always do.

he removes it again to use it as a microphone while singing the most horrendous cover of a song with too many high notes to count. Haknyeon is a gorgeous singer, he just purposely sings bad sometimes to make you laugh.

he continues to bounce around your bed while singing until you speak.

"not like that, hell no," you reply but unable to hold back a smile.

you think about his words. when you get married? did he want you to get married off already? why would he be singing... wouldn't he be the groom?

you've liked your best friend, Hak, for a year now, and you've only been falling deeper and deeper. somehow, everything he does makes your heart flutter. if he's a little too close, if he wraps an arm around you, if he waits for you after your night class on campus... you're flooded with butterflies.

you're almost sure he doesn't feel the same way, though. that's why you haven't even thought about confessing. as selfish as it is, you'd rather be close to Haknyeon through this friendship than ruin it completely just to tell him your feelings.

"hey.. why are you so lost in your thoughts. don't be so boring!" Haknyeon whines, snapping you back to reality. he gently takes hold of your shoulders and shakes, filling you with giggles.

then, his phone buzzes next to your legs, entangled from Haknyeon trying to tickle you.

when he picks up to check it, you watch as his face darkens before he tosses his phone to the side.

"what happened, Hak? everything okay?"

"yeah," he mumbles.

but you know he's not okay. you don't press him further, though. instead, you tell him that if he ever wants to tell you, you'll be ready to listen.

even though a week ends up passing before he tells you, you're still ready to listen.

he asks you to meet him at a café and you find him with dark circles under his eyes, messy hair hidden under a beanie and his leg shaking up and down with how nervous he is.

"hey Hak, what's up? are you okay?"

"no, i'm not," Haknyeon tells you, frankly.

he pushes a drink towards you. of course, he knows you so well that he was able to order your favourite drink for you in advance.

"i... keep getting texts from someone and it's been bothering me. they keep calling me, too, and i'm going insane."

your heart drops. Haknyeon doesn't even have to explain. you already know who he's talking about: his psycho ex.

they broke up almost a year ago, yet Hak still keeps receiving calls and texts from them. they've even shown up to his house, followed him around. they're a complete stalker.

everything had died down for a few months after Haknyeon went to the police, but now they're back again?

"i've contacted the police and they've said that the texts and calls pose no threat, that i should just block them. i do, i keep blocking them but they keep calling with different numbers. i don't even know whose calls to answer anymore, y/n, i'm going insane."

"show me," you say, gesturing for Haknyeon's phone.

with a pout and quivering lips, he hands it to you. you scroll through the messages, filled with anger. all of them talk about how Hak will never be able to find anyone as good as them, his ex. they tell him his life is over without him, that he'll die alone.

suddenly, you have an idea.

"Hak... i know what to do. you said they stalk your instagram too, right? but you have a restraining order on them so they can't see you in person?"

Haknyeon nods along to your words.

"okay... what do you think about being digital lovers? how about we post as if we're dating and show your ex that you can be happy without them?"

your heart races as you explain your idea, and honestly you don't even expect Haknyeon to agree. you're also mad at yourself because... are you just taking advantage of the situation to act on your feelings for Hak?

despite it all, Haknyeon, with red ears, nods at you.

"let's do it. and let's start right now," he says.

-

"no, what the hell, this angle is so ugly?" you whine as Haknyeon attempts to take a photo of your drinks.

"i'll do it," you snap before snatching the phone out of his hands. the boy is left pouting as you do all the work.

"okay, now put your hand in and complete the heart i'm making," you say.

even feeling Haknyeon's fingers touching yours makes your heart race, but you quickly tell yourself to shut up.

"there. now post this with the caption: 'first date... already so in love'," you say.

Haknyeon scoffs. "how do you come up with the most absurd ideas?"

you stick your tongue out at him.

he shakes his head but still posts and yep, before even a minute has passed, his ex is sending him messages again.

who's that? first date with who? you're lying. you're lying i know you are. you think this will get me to leave you? you need me, Hak. you need me.

"more like they need you. how pathetic. it's okay, Hak. the more we post, the more it'll convince them. just give it time and ignore them, okay? block this new number again. and if you're ever scared or can't sleep, just come to me. it's okay," you say, patting Haknyeon's shoulder.

the look he gives you is unlike anything you've seen before. his eyes are all watery and star-filled, and he looks at you as if you're someone else. his ears are red, too.

"everything okay?" you ask, your hand on his shoulder.

"y-yeah.. just fine," he replies.

this is the first time Haknyeon starts to suspect he has feelings for you.

-

a few days later, the two of you go to an art gallery. there, you take plenty of cringey but cute couple-shots, none of them showing your faces. though, it's very obvious that Haknyeon is in every photo.

"y/n, this is so pretty.. it's almost as pretty as you," Haknyeon says, giggling to himself while he shows you a painting of a flower garden.

"hey, now. you don't have to act like my boyfriend in real life, too," you say, feeling flustered.

"but.. you're pretty! it's true.." Haknyeon trails off and you clear your throat, unconsciously taking his hand as you guide him to the next painting.

Haknyeon's heart races and so does yours.

it's the second time Haknyeon realizes he's falling for you.

-

another day, another (fake) date with Haknyeon. the two of you walk hand-in-hand through the downtown streets while you snap pictures of your interlocked fingers. Haknyeon keeps fidgeting, not knowing what to do with his free hand and constantly worrying that he'll start sweating and you'll be grossed out by his wet palms.

"Hak, your hand looks weird... like, too stiff? just relax!" you say.

he clears his throat and nods with a small small. despite trying his best, he still looks too stiff and you decide to just head into a café to rest.

"you know what, i think your ex is still being annoying because they haven't seen your s/o's face.. maybe we should show our faces this time?" you point out.

"ah, but then.. all our friends will think we're for real, too," Haknyeon says, sadly.

and... so what? wouldn't that be good, too?

you nod your head, pointing your phone at the cake/drinks and Haknyeon who sits across from you. though, he stops you. he takes the phone out of your hands and takes a deep breath in through his nose.

he knows it. he knows it, now. he likes you.

"what if.. what if we do post a photo of our faces... as a real couple?" he asks, only meeting your eyes after he's done speaking.

"hm?"

Haknyeon clears his throat and tries again. "y/n.. what if we date for real?"

your heart starts racing as you take in the sincerity in his eyes.

"do you.. like me?" you ask.

Haknyeon slowly nods and you're filled with butterflies.

"i like you too, Hak... l-let's take a selfie this time, then," you say, grinning as Haknyeon quickly gets up to sit beside you instead of across from you.

he carefully wraps an arm around you as you take the photo. the second the shutter goes off, he turns and gently presses his lips to your cheek.

"i've always wanted to do that," he says, cheekily.

"but Hak. how can you sing at my wedding if you're my husband?" you ask, reminding Hak of when his ex first started texting him while the two of you were together at your place.

he grins, poking your cheek.

"i can sing and marry you, y/n. all for free!"

you smile back at him and rest your head on his chest.

[thenationaltreasuregazette]

To the editor,

Your response seriously made my day: 10/10!! I am very interested in your analysis of a) Ben’s exact relationship with the Navy and b) how wack his finances must be.

However! I have another question. What do you think Sadusky and co. would have done with Abigail, Riley, and Patrick after Ben flew off to Boston? My personal headcanon is that the Declaration got taken to the NYC branch of the National Archives (on Abigail’s suggestion of course) and Abigail/Riley/Patrick got put up in a hotel for the night where the FBI could keep an eye on them. but I know nothing about FBI protocol and I’m interested in your take on it. Would the FBI have put them up in a hotel for the night to keep an eye on them? Are Abigail and Riley still technically suspects in an ongoing case and would be held in custody?

As always, love your work!

Aftermath, Part 1

Hi anon!

I'm glad you’ve enjoyed this project so far.

So…I sat on this question for *checks watch* about 3500 years. I’ve always wanted to write a fic about the post-Trinity events and I thought, “Well I’ll do that, use the fic to collect my thoughts, and then answer the question.”

Lmao.

The naiveté.

The hubris.

That’s clearly not going to happen any time in the next calendar century so let’s dig in.

I think there would be a lot of aftermath to the events of National Treasure on a lot of fronts. Let’s break them down into:

Medical

Legal

Archeological

Interpersonal

Medical

We’ve already discussed the various injuries Team Treasure might have accumulate here, and here, so I won’t spend too much time on this, but I do think medical evaluations would be one of the FBI’s first priorities.

There are plenty of universes, real and fake, where I don’t think the FBI would very much care about the well-being of the people who stole the Declaration of Independence, whether they returned it or not. But National Treasure is not one of those universes. The FBI in the NT world are basically good guys, and the movie frames Sadusky especially as a good person who cares about the fate of the treasure, and even the people searching for it.

In the 2003 script there’s actually a moment where Sadusky has a chance to take a shot at Ben but can’t bring himself to do it. Which is interesting as hell and paints their dynamic pretty differently. With this removed in the final film, the FBI never poses a physical threat to Team Treasure—that’s Ian’s department. The FBI’s role is more the existential threat of getting caught before finding the treasure.

They also have reason to believe there might be at least one hostage/unwilling participant wrapped up in this mess. Again in the 2003 script, the FBI discusses multiple times whether Abigail is an accomplice in the theft or not.

REPORTER (ON SCREEN) (CONT'D) …Dr. Abigail Chase, a museum employee who has been reported as missing. Police did not say whether Dr. Chase is a suspect or a witness, only that she is the only National Archives employee not currently accounted for…

And later

INT. FBI, HOLDING CELLS - DAY Sadusky moves purposefully down a line of holding cells, stops at one. Inside, sits Abigail. SADUSKY We know you're not involved. You're free to go.

Although this angle doesn't become a plot point in the final film, the circumstances of Abigail's involvement haven't changed, so they would likely still be considering it. And since Ben has been going out of his way not to implicate her ("I did it alone. Dr. Chase was not involved.") they might not know how complicit she becomes in the hunt.

They’ve likely also had someone surveilling Patrick’s house since their initial visit, and might or might not know he’s been taken as well.

I think it’s beyond plausible to say that there’s an ambulance waiting among what I assume is a small fleet of black SUVs parked outside Trinity Church. (They’ve probably even blocked off the street until they know how things have played out.)

After Ben and Sadusky head off to the helicopter, I imagine Abigail, Riley, and Patrick are asked if they need medical attention. I can see Riley pouting and asking for a bandaid for his splinters, and receiving less sympathy from the paramedic than he’d hoped for.

Abigail initially waves them off, until Riley touches her shoulder and it’s clear that she’s in real pain. As I said here, in addition to a killer bruise, I think it’s very possible that Abigail tore the rotator cuff in her left shoulder during the stair sequence. If that’s the case, she’d probably get a sling in addition to pain killers and one of those instant ice packs. There’s not much else the EMTs can do, and it’s not an ER-urgent problem.

Patrick, being a vaguely sensible person who is fully aware that he was the least physically equipped for an adventure like this, lets the paramedics check him out, but they declare him in good health.

Legal

Once everyone is declared Basically Fine™ by the paramedics, it’s down to legal business, and there’s probably a lot of it.

Like you, I also headcanon that the FBI makes Team Treasure stick around in New York. I also know nothing about FBI protocol, and frankly I don’t even know where I’d start trying to look up what they’d do in this particular situation, so I’m just going to make it up.

I feel pretty confident about the fact that the FBI wouldn’t just let them go, because a) that’s no fun and b) that’s a very stupid way to run an intelligence agency. I like to think they were all held in New York for a couple of days of debriefing. The FBI took them to a kinda shabby hotel near the FBI’s New York field office, which is just a few blocks uptown from Trinity Church. There were agents keeping tabs on them, and for at least the first day they were told not to talk to each other. That’s not too much of a problem, because I imagine once they get to the hotel, each of them goes into their room, maybe stays awake long enough to take a shower, and promptly passes out from sheer exhaustion.

This also opens up a fun window of clothing possibilities! Do they do this entire debriefing sequence in FBI sweatpants? If you want them to! (I certainly do.)

Ben returns that night with Agent Sadusky, and the debriefing interviews start early the next morning. These aren’t interrogations per se, but Sadusky and his team intend to drill into every last detail of how this all went down. How Ben and Ian met. At what point this tipped into an “operation of questionable legality.” How Riley got involved. Exactly how they pulled off the heist so that the National Archives security system can be upgraded accordingly. At what point Abigail leaned into the whole mess. Etc, etc, etc.

This can be a whole mess of fun fic- and headcanon-wise for a couple of reasons. First of all, we’re set up to do the revolving interrogation trope. Not sure what it’s actually called, but you know, it’s that trope where the squad is all being questioned separately and we’re cutting between them as they fill in different pieces of the story and/or give wildly differing accounts of the same events. Always a good time.

And then there’s the possibility of learning more about the heist and the characters. What didn’t we see in the movie? See also, missing time.

In a real-ish world scenario, this would also be a good time to get some lawyers involved. I know Sadusky said they’re off the hook, but both the FBI and Team Treasure are probably going to want that in writing. You know with like, the terms on their deal and the extent of their implied immunity, etc. (I’m watching Suits right now, can you tell?)

Ben has to know a lawyer who specializes in treasure hunting and other found property stuff. I find it wildly implausible that he hasn’t ended up in at least one tight legal spot before due to his treasure hunting activities. Ben’s also pretty broke, so he’s definitely not running to this guy frequently, but in a real pinch I bet Ben has a number to call.

Abigail would likely have a friend or acquaintance who’s a lawyer. Between the kind of work she does, the city she lives in, and the kind of person she is, she would probably cross paths with plenty of lawyers. Maybe she’s friendly with one from the gym, or her building, or had a friend from college who went to law school. Even if this person doesn’t specialize in criminal/contract law or whatever is needed here, I bet they’d have a recommendation of who to turn to.

And Riley? He seems the least likely to want to get lawyers involved (doesn’t trust them) but he did commit a bunch of minor crimes during the course of this adventure. Yes, Ben did the actual stealing of the Declaration, but Riley broke into the subway, hacked into the archives, triggered the heat sensor, drove the getaway car, and, along with Abigail, colluded with Ian to break Ben out of custody. Once news of the treasure breaks, it would be hard to go after the guy who actually found the thing. Ben’s the face of the treasure, and comes with a story of thirty years of perseverance and absolute faith in a family dream. It would be second hardest to go after the archivist who got accidentally caught up in the whole thing and risked her safety to keep the Declaration safe. It would be easiest to go after the tech guy. He committed lots of smaller crimes and doesn’t have the public persona that Ben does or the ‘innocence’ factor that Abigail has.

So yeah, Riley might want some help. I imagine he has a whole network on online friends and allies, and one of them is bound to be or know a lawyer. He only has to put out the call on his go-to chat forum (it’s 2004) and someone will be or know a lawyer in NYC who he can talk to. That said, I still think he’d be reluctant to trust this person, but depending on how much pressure the FBI is putting on him, he might force himself to reach out. Ben and Abigail likely pressure him to do this as well.

And finally there’s the matter of the treasure and where that stands. As we discussed here, even thought the dialogue of the final scene implies that someone else owns the treasure and Ben was awarded a percentage by like, a board or a court or something, he appears to actually own the treasure outright. That actually sounds like a huge headache imo. Now instead of turning the treasure over to the FBI and letting them coordinate everything, Ben is seemingly on the hook for a lot of the logistics himself.

Which brings us to…

...the crushing realization that I am not going to finish this tonight. Let's call it a two-parter! See you next week!

[etherealyoni]

888 PORTAL MESSAGES 🦁✨💛

Aries, Leo, Sagittarius Out with the old and end with the new feels like your mantra. You're letting go of many things that have been keeping you stagnant. You were probably afraid to let go because you weren't sure if you could move forward without these things. But you'll see in time that you never needed these things to be great because you already are. Always stay true to yourself even when it's hard. No one is entitled to you and people may have felt this way for some time. But you know who you are, these people aren't even familiar. If people really took the time out to get to know you, they'd see how fucking dope you really are. If you still feel like you're having a identity crisis then remove the mask and step into what truly makes you happy. Don't live for anyone else's amusement if you're not having a good time.

Taurus, Virgo, Capricorn There's something you're looking to learn right now. You've probably been contemplating if you're actually meant to take that step but here is your confirmation. If you've been thinking about expanding your knowledge and skill set there's an opportunity for you. Don't doubt your abilities, you are more than capable. Learn as much as you can because whatever this is, I see it as fulfilling. Explore all your interests too, don't stop here, make sure you allow yourself to learn as much as possible. I see you may feel you didn't take your education seriously in the past. You may even feel like you would've gone farther if you started earlier but Earth signs, you were focused on surviving, and working through things no one knew about. Don't be so hard on yourself for trying to work through a mess you did not create. You are on the right track to success, this new mentality is everything, just remain intentional! Gemini, Libra, Aquarius You are no one's sacrificial lamb. People may have tried to tear you down, block your blessings, and make you hate yourself. They will never succeed. Their hatred and bitterness towards you isn't a reflection of your character no matter how they try to diminish it. You may have felt like giving up at some point. I know you're feeling so many things right now. Take a moment to acknowledge the power it would take to overcome everything you've been through. You are a fucking star and you deserve to know it even when the world wants you to forget. You are abundant, cosmic, and intelligent. You need to be reminded. Your mistakes and insecurities do not make you. There is much more to you than that. So allow yourself to beam brighter than ever before. If they tell you you're too bright, tell them to close their damn eyes cause you're gonna shine anyways! Cancer, Scorpio, Pisces Transitions are hard and you may be adjusting to a new lifestyle. I see you're getting a lot more familiar with your surroundings. Use this time to explore more to gain more clarity on what path best suits you. Also, know that you are not being rushed to figure things out. You have time to decide so think thoroughly. Whoever is rushing you or making you feel rushed isn't steering your life, you are in control. You may have felt limited in the past. It could've felt as if your life was in someone else's hands but that's not the case in present day. You are aligning with the version of yourself that knows your worth, has a vision, and always sees it through. Stand your ground Water signs, because you deserve to live a life that's fulfilling for you. You deserve to be pleased with yourself and your decisions. You are expecting miracles all you need to do is release yourself from what was. I'm thinking of the Ancient One speaking to Doctor Strange, she told him he would have to forget everything he THINKS knows (Amazing movie, check it out if you haven't seen it already). There's so much more for you to learn so don't assume you know it all. Be willing to learn and even see things from others perspectives even if you don't agree. There's so much to learn from those around you.

Book a Personal Reading here divinebrujita.com

Click to sign up for a live Group Reiki event for $18.88 TONIGHT

[shdwtouch]

oki. time for some housekeeping notes !

I will be dropping all of my owed starter. going forward I will be tentatively trying out a discussion / plot based process to approach interactions. which will require communication on part of my partner, of course. but if I have the muse / energy I will continue doing small unplotted things, but for now coming up with things on my own hasn't been very good for my mental health.

I will be going through and deleting things from both my inbox and drafts, just so I can get a better idea of what I want to invest in as far as interactions, etc.

I plan on going through my followers and softblocking / blocking (per rules, I will be checking to see what a blogs preference is beforehand) to curate my space. as is, I just want to narrow down the folks I want to focus on pursuing interactions with. if / when I do go through with this I will post about the process and my plans going forward / afterward, as well as potentially supply messages to folks to clarify the reason they have been removed (mental health permitting). which is to say, unless I block you you are welcome to refollow <3

I will try to get around to messaging the folks who liked my shipping call asap. I apologize for the delay, I am still very interested in discussing with you !

I'm thinking about redoing my carrd, adding some side muses, and making changes to my pinned post. I might also change my URL, but I haven't decided for certain. in general, I haven't made any definitive plans regarding this blog or how I want to run it, my sideblog, adding muses, etc.

my intention is to avoid remaking altogether, with the above points in mind, but I don't know and it will depend on how I feel after making changes.

I'm paranoid -throws glitter- this isn't new. I have no reason to believe someone is talking shit or spreading rumors about me, but I've also experienced how petty the rpc can be so I'm always wary, sorry not sorry. if someone is telling you something about me I hope you will have the decency to come to me about it instead of blinding believing what they have to say. I'm doing the best I can, but I know I haven't always been a saint nor am I immune to making mistakes.

otherwise, re: above point, if the reason I'm losing followers is in fact benign, and because I simply haven't been as active... I guess I'm better off without them, because this is my blog and I won't always be active or engaging with my dash. I try to, I really do, and I try to be supportive and present. I don't want to believe that folks would be so petty, but like I said, I know how people can be.

re: above 2 points, as stated in my rules, please don't softblock me ! thanks~

I will continue being spotty here cuz as I've stated I just haven't had the energy or inspiration for tumblr or roleplay. but I'm always available on Discord, and I promise I'm not leaving, I promise I'm still interested in things I have going on. I'm just not forcing myself to be here, and I hope yall can respect that.

[yavvana]

There's a photo that exists that I had forgotten about. I blocked it from my memory for twelve years. And then in February, Facebook regurgitated it and threw it at me, and I have not been able to stop being angry about it.

I hate that fucking photo. I hate it because I am so clearly fucking uncomfortable, I look like I want to crawl out of my own skin, and I remember everyone laughing when it was taken. He never took no for an answer when it came from me. Never listened when I said stop. The photo is fucking proof. And I hate it because the person who took it saw so little wrong with what was happening, she not only took that photo while giggling up a storm, she posted it and tagged me in it.

I removed the tag. But the photo still exists.

And if I ask why she did it now, I'm "dredging up the past," and "why didn't you say anything back then?"

I DID!

But my discomfort was and is a joke to them. I am a joke. And when I begged for help to make him stop, because he actually respected the two of them enough to listen, I was told I needed to stop reacting to the harassment.

"He only does it to get a reaction from you. If you stop reacting, he'll leave you alone."

Because it was MY fault. Everything was always my fault. Is my fault.

And when we got home from that trip and I climbed into my shower and scrubbed my skin raw so that I could erase the memory, and then adamantly refused to hang out with him ever again, I was the asshole. I was breaking up the friend group. Again. Because when people hurt me, it doesn't matter. It's not important enough to bother anyone else.

"Well, he's never done anything like that to me."

Great. So fucking thrilled for you. But he did do it to me, and he's a vile little man, and I don't believe in Hell anymore, so I can't say I hope he goes there, but I can say I hope he fucking ROTS.

But that's not how anyone else saw it. I mean, clearly I deserved the harassment, right? Because I was too weak to stand up for myself? So why should anyone else, right? And how dare I ask for help, anyway! Don't I know that asking people to "white knight" for me is fucking insane?!

I'm tired. I haven't slept in like three days. I want to scream or cry or something, but no one wants to hear that, and even if they did, I don't want to inconvenience anyone.

So I'll swallow it until my next therapy session, where my therapist will AGAIN tell me I REALLY need to start talking to people in my life again, and stop bottling shit up, and I'll AGAIN tell him that it's not that fucking simple. That I used to try, that I spent years trying, and being made to feel like a fucking inconvenience for wanting to talk. That I was raised being told by both friends and family that I'm too sensitive and I need to get my emotions in check and grow up. That my tears brought someone I thought was my friend fucking JOY for a year, and that now I can't let myself cry even when I'm alone. That I'm aware that it's stunted me. That swallowing those emotions and pushing them down and remaining stone faced has kept me from actually learning how to process them. That I understand that the bottling them up and feeling suppressed and depressed and so fucking alone led me to drinking too much and making stupid fucking mistakes and becoming the most annoying person anyone has ever known. And that, fuck, according to 80% of the people I have ever cared about, I was already, at least, most of the way there, so that just made it worse. And that it's why I'm even more alone than I was before. And fuck, I was so alone before.

That I'm not worth the time it takes to read this post.

That I know these things. And I can't unknow them.

And I have tried really, really fucking hard to be better. I stopped drinking earlier this year, but now my sleep schedule is fucked and insomnia is awful, and that's made it worse and it's a really fucking annoying cycle that I can't break. And that when I try to explain this cycle to people, they look at me like I'm an idiot and tell me to just step out of it like I'm not in a fucking whirlpool that's pulling me down and slowly drowning me.

And that picture...that fucking picture still exists. And it's eating me alive.

And I want it gone. Burned. Destroyed. Erased from the internet. But I also want it printed, and stored somewhere secure where I don't have to look at it. Because it's proof. It's proof that when I say that even when I ask for help, I don't get it, that when I fucking BEG for someone to take my fucking side for once, it doesn't happen. It's proof that all the times I've been told I'm "overdramatic" and that if I just asked for help instead of "just expecting it," maybe someone would help me. It's PROOF that that was never the fucking case.

It's proof that I'm worth even less than I make myself out to be.

And the worst part is, if either of the two people who were laughing while it was taken had been in my shoes, in that situation, I would have killed him. I could have killed him. I would have reached across the aisle and pulled them out of that situation before it ever got that far. I sure as fuck never would have taken a photo.

But because it was me...

[milkiesoda]

I have a question ab how people make friends on tumblr!! I'm new here and I'm not used to blogs or the culture I feel weird just dmming people randomly too lolol

( ´ཀ` )( ´ཀ` )( ´ཀ` )( ´ཀ` )

oh my gosh welcomeee!!

from my personal experience, i'd say send a few asks to people first off anon to start chatting and then dm them if you find a common interest :D

probably don't start with a "hey", go with "so i heard you like this thing too!! what are your favorite parts?" (obviously changed to whatever you're talking about hehe)- that starts a solid conversation and makes people more likely to respond!!

also, it's important to know that not everyone checks tumblr every day since they can queue their posts, so if you don't get a response asap don't count that as a loss! they probably just haven't been on yet to see it.

general tips would be to use the filtered settings to remove what may be triggering and don't be afraid to block someone if they make you uncomfortable. tumblr can get toxic if you're on the wrong side of the site, so always prioritize your wellbeing over anything else.

good luck!! ❤ ❤ ❤

[dragynkeep]

Finally going to Twitter made me realized how privileged I was here on Tumblr. Maybe I just haven't been as outspoken about it here as I am there, but people on Twitter are so comfortable telling me to kill myself for being proship.

I remember I accidentally retweeted something funny I saw on my "For You" page, only to later learn the person I retweeted it from was an Anti who made a whole seperate post with my account screenshotted, asking my a "proshipper" was interacting with her stuff with people in her comments saying I should kms.

Like, okay, totally an appropriate response. Why put me on blast than say something like that? Is it so hard to just block me or DM me and ask me to remove the retweet? Sorry, I don't always check every account I RT from. . .

being on twitter should be classified as a mental illness because it's truly the place where unhinged things blow up way out of proportion to the actual action

[drewkopp]

Burning Out: A Dramatic Monologue - Part 3: Cooldown

I’d love to get some feedback on this piece and the other two parts that follow, which were written as part of a collab between my local writer’s group and the local theater group. I’d specifically like to know if I captured the narrator’s psychopathy through their voice and if their character arc is clear. Each part has to be under 500 words.

Dear Diary

…Hey.

I’m sorry I left you to gnaw on that little cliffhanger for a few months, but I’ve been too busy to check in with you.

A lot’s changed since we last spoke, but one thing’s stayed the same: I still don’t feel like putting other people’s property to the torch.

Don’t worry; my creative juices haven't gone dry or anything. My art’s just taken a bit of a new form, that’s all.

Molotov’s helping me shear away my artist’s block. You remember Molotov, right? The punk I kidnap- removed from an unsafe situation? Yeah, them

Neither of us ended up frozen because Molotov made magic happen with a bottle of hand sanitizer they swiped from the refugee center’s bathroom. Their technique was still mediocre, but I didn't mind giving them a pointer or two. Last week, they got our campfire going with nothing but a stick, a handful of dry leaves, and a dictionary so soaked that the only words I could read from it were  “Hope,” “Springs,” “Eternal,” and “Marmalade.”

Molotov also came up with the idea of selling fire. Huh. Writing that didn’t hurt as much as I thought it would.

We were passing through the skeleton of what I think used to be Saskatoon when we ran into a herd of ex-frat boys trying to turn their three-seater sofa into a cooking fire by using a shattered Budweiser bottle as a magnifying glass. 

My apprentice offered to help them get a blaze going if they shared a bit of the deer they wanted to grill up. Did you know Deer Heart Salad is a thing? I didn’t. Yet another fascinating nugget of Molotov wisdom.

Being a fire merchant scratches my artistic itch better than I thought. If you’d told me that most people don’t know how to start a fire before the apocalypse, I wouldn’t have believed you. It doesn't matter which direction Molotov and I wander; we always find at least one poor smuck who doesn't know how to relive their ancient ancestor’s greatest triumph.

It’s a pretty satisfying dopamine cycle, honesty: Molotov and I meander around until we find some poor soul whose mind has not yet been opened to the ways of pyromancy, then we hook them up if they can match our prices. 

Even when we don’t stumble upon any customers, lighting a campfire and sitting under the stars with Molotov makes me feel like I’ve done something right. I’m almost okay with counting my anti-hypothermia fires as art.

…Almost.

I think I’ve finally realized why I lost my mojo. My work… it’s an act of rebellion. Before, it was a rebellion against a civilization that decided by lottery whether or not people were worth taking care of. Now, it’s a rebellion against the ignorance that civilization allowed to fester.

Being a fire merchant should be enough to keep me busy.

At least until civilization thinks it’s safe to come out of hiding.

[rptsyd]

So much of what Orion says is flat out lies.

When they posted what they called a meme that involved an Hitler joke, they removed it after a few hours, after many people sent in ask saying how harmful it was. They claimed they never got any asks on it and removed it because their friend told them about it. That attempt at a joke was said to their friends in the first place and I have a very hard time no one said anything at the time, only once it hit the tags and the people in it told them how wrong it was.

They say they haven't sent anything to anyone and haven't lurked but then made clear remarks on Discord about things posted on blogs, not even in the tags.

They changed their recent FCs after you called them out on it but then claim it's their friend who told them about it.

They've put Discord status that were a clear reference to your blog but I guess their friends are constantly checking things for them and not them?

You get an ask about their supposed friends, then Orion jumps on Tumblr to guilt trip people into thinking they're still friends. Guess that's also their friends who told Orion about it?

They've been reacting to what rpts have posted about them for weeks and always said it was not related, that someone else told them and that they had no idea. And all of it is so obvious it's pathetic.

it's clear they've lurking and that part of what they say are lies. they claim not to have logged into their account since making the post saying they left, which was oct. 19. even did that huge really upset to have to log back after they said they wouldn't and then admit to having a blog that pop-up in the tags days after they supposedly left blocked because they heard they were a rpt and they've blocked rpts. so what, did they get on back then to block them or did they just block the blog, which would be mostly useless if they don't plan on using their blog?

also, if they meant it when they say they didn't want to know what's going on in the rpc, then why do they always have friends telling them about it, since they've known and reacted to things since they left?

also, wonder if they really have rpts blocked, considering i wasn't blocked.

[yooniesim]

As someone who has been on CF, had to use it longer than I wanted to due to extreme financial difficulties, subsequently stopped using CF, and fully supports boycott efforts... this post brought up some interesting thoughts for me.

(I go extremely off topic and rant for far too long for no reason, so feel free to ignore lol)

For perspective: CF was monumentally helpful for me during the time I used it. I didn't make a large amount of money, around $50-100 in the months I was active, but for someone who has a job yet is always in the red- the benefit of that couldn't be understated. CF helped keep me on my meds and without it I probably would be in a way worse state right about now. But at the same time, the way I was treated when I did use it was... pretty terrible. Getting told you support the genocide & torture of children, and feeling like you, personally, are the reason they are suffering because you're trying to survive yourself is fucking awful. (Not to mention the odd ducks straight up lying that I didn't support the boycott because I criticized the methods and pointed out misinfo, but that's another story) Which- mind- feeling bad doesn't compare to the suffering of Palestinian people by any stretch of the imagination. But I feel like people here don't really realize how normalized that was a few months ago, how disproportionate the reaction was compared to the "crime", and... frankly, how little it did to change anything. In fact, it actually kind of hurt the cause, because Overwolf got to put out that bullshit statement about how the boycott was full of bullying/harassment and misinformation. Which... it kind of was, so that wound up overshadowing the actual criticism. And they used that as a shield, and some people that left CF went *back* to it after everything was "cleared up". The impact of that effort was... minimal at best.

Some smaller (relatively) creators like myself stopped using CF or put alt links, either because the impact to income wasn't large or because of the obvious moral issue. But that is not the norm. All of the biggest creators on CF then, including the mod squad, are still there. They've been making money throughout. They haven't acknowledged shit so far, and they likely won't in the future. Them speaking out about this will do nothing (from their perspective) except attract negative attention to them, and they'll need to give up their sizeable income. They absolutely will not let that happen just because people on tumblr are putting them in lists and sending angry asks. They will block you, remove your reblogs, and move on. The age of anonymous blogs actually having the power to run people out of the community at a whim is over. Tumblr simply does not have the influence.

Shame can be a powerful tool, yes. But shame only works if you're invested in the community you're in- which most paywall creators are not, and have not been, for years. Especially not on tumblr. You have to actually care about the reaction of others to be ashamed, and if you're not even looking at it, how can you be? They also generally tend to have such reputations in the community- such as big script modders, creators that have been creating/popular a very long time like ah00b, etc- that they're a bit too big to fall. (Mostly because simmers are terrible at actually stopping using cc of problematic people, even scammers and doxxers, but I digress.) They've learned that they can weather any scandal simply by being quiet and collecting their checks. Which has, sadly, kneecapped most of the boycott efforts so far.

So what can we do? I think raising awareness about what the boycott is, why it exists, and who is using CF, isn't a bad thing. That's not what I'm saying. But I don't think it's solving the problem. Simblr, again, is very niche. We're a very small minority of even PC simmers now. There are people that only engage with cc through CF, patreon, and other sites. The continued posts here are mostly moving through the same circles of people that already agree with them. And... sadly, mostly funneling hate to smaller creators that depend on that income far more than the ones actually making bank & contributing the most to Overwolf. Those are the only people caring enough to stop using CF, and overall, I think more harm is being caused to those creators than Overwolf, income wise. The current method of boycott is messy, kind of confusing, and ultimately not hitting the targets that it should be. It's... well, it's very simblr, I'll say that much.

I think that the scope needs to be narrowed a little bit, and that that would actually widen the reach. Instead of making a wide list of everyone that uses CF, for the purpose of sending them messages until they stop using it, I think it should be more focused and easier to consume. And I believe EA should be at the very center. Let's not forget that the partnership with Overwolf wouldn't even exist without EA, and that they make more money from this than anyone else, cc creators included. And yet I see very little ire towards them for this compared to, I don't know, releasing hollow expansion packs or buggy patches. Why are there no posts about an EA focused boycott, possibly including/reaching out to sims influencers, youtubers, streamers, the biggest cc creator collaborators, etc? Why is it always just the occasional paragraph about how CF users are the worst human beings to exist on the planet ever, a half-assed list of tumblr cc creators, floods of asks, back and forth reblog spats, and an air of moral superiority? Is that still all tumblr can do in the year 2024? The best and most useful thing I've seen so far is the blog that re-uploads the files from CF. That was good work and I'm sure it's a lot of effort to maintain. The only limiter is that the reach is probably small, and it'd probably be handy to continue to encourage creators themselves to add alt links too.

...I also believe that bringing EA to the forefront will help unite a lot of people in the community. Everyone knows they're dog shit, and efforts towards a company are a lot easier to sell than individual creators- which may be tied to memories, parasocial relationships, financial difficulties, and who knows what else. Trying to get people to stop using cc, again, even by the worst of freaking humanity is like impossible for some reason. Especially if you try to get them to stop using ALL of their favorite stuff, which let's be frank, usually includes most of the people using CF. They MIGHT use an alt link (like from the aforementioned blog), but most people aren't going to bother when they're cc shopping, especially not for pretty much every single thing they're downloading from various creators. That's why I think the boycott should be focused on EA and a small list of cc creators- the mod squad, and/or the top five to ten earners/downloaded or something- and then maybe sprinkle in some of EA's largest collaborators across platforms, such as the highest earner youtuber, streamer, etc. Add in that not downloading from/using CF in general is *preferred*, but not a rule, and continue encouraging creators to add alt links rather than requiring them to move off the platform completely, and compliance will probably go way higher. If you let them add alt links, there's a much higher chance that the revenue will be split that way, to at least impact Overwolf some, than of the creator just removing all their content (spoiler: they're not gonna do it).

The general public likes clear goals that are easy to follow, not near impossible tasks like boycotting nearly every creator *and* EA *and* numerous other companies in their everyday life (as, let's remember, Overwolf isn't the only target nor the main target of any boycott list). I know it's tempting to just say "fuck it, comply with everything perfectly the way I want or nothing", but that's not realistic- and chances are, if you play it like that, you're gonna get the nothing. We gotta work smarter here, not harder. And like the OP says, focus our energy in alternative ways. Give people different options than just cutting off income completely, cos they ain't gonna do it. Or they simply can't do it. Will people contribute to causes like this, through donations and awareness, and even boycotting some companies? Sure. Will they do a complete boycott of everything they like, or sacrifice their entire (or a big portion of) income for it? No. No, they won't. That's not realistic and simply will not happen, no matter how much anyone wants it. And I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that most of you wouldn't quit your job either, putting yourself in threat of homelessness or denying yourself medical care because of it, no matter what you say on the internet. (Y'all can't even stop downloading cc from bigots and doxxers, much less quit your jobs... but anyway) Whether that's the right or wrong thing for anyone to do, that's kinda just the reality of the situation. So, you have to change your expectations, your goals, your demands, to be closer to reality. Raise awareness, encourage alt links, download from other platforms, and lift up creators that don't use CF. And whatever amount of energy you spend doing that, put double into assisting in spaces outside of sims tumblr or other niche fandom spaces. It isn't that I think efforts here are pointless or not worth doing... just that, you'll probably have a lot more success making a difference that way.

I want to be clear re: Curseforge:

I am not justifying support for the IDF.

I am not here to flame/call out/cause hate or harassment to anyone.

I am not saying that anyone who has content on Curseforge is intentionally and actively supporting the IDF.

And I also believe that last part is vital for our community to consider.

My point to all this is... In this world in which we live, it's only going to get more and more difficult to ask people to part with what sources of income they can get their hands on. I want to urge our community to continue to put energy toward assisting people in need, and organizing IRL, as much as we are able; rather than putting energy toward future shame campaigns online that ultimately accomplish nothing.*

If someone chooses to stay on Curseforge, move on. Put their content on alternative sites. Focus your energy on spreading information and resources to help the people who need it.

Spend your energy on the people who need and deserve that focus.

*- listing creators that are on Curseforge and including alt links to their content is fine imo, as long as we encourage people not to go send hate. We can only hope that people will change their minds eventually, BUT, they are FAR LESS LIKELY TO DO SO if people demand immediate moral purity at the end of a torch and pitchfork. Those people are not the ones we should be angry at.

We've all been conditioned in a world where resources are precious. People choosing to stay on Curseforge is a SYMPTOM, not the CAUSE. Focus on actual lives that need our help, and on our IRL political and community movements.

[tavvattales]

I want to spoil Scara and Capitano.

Probably make some tea. OOO, Tanjiro kinnie mode on in here. They both deserve something good.

Maybe also give them homemade cookies. Make it in a little lunch box with a small note on it. For scara, put it secretly in his office after he had a mental breakdown. And for Capitano, same as scara but he is exhausted after finished his work.

Gave them secretly cuz the reader is shy/have anxiety/etc, of course they know who gave them the box.

Ye that's all, thanks btw <33

Gifts for You

GENSHIN IMPACT Character x GN!Reader Headcanons

Characters: Scaramouche, Il Capitano(separate)

Pairings: Scaramouche x GN!Reader, Il Capitano x GN!Reader

Warnings: None

Taglist: @stygianoir @kurobakachan @hikomisan @silverwritesthings @minty-stays-tired @genshinparty

If you like what you read, come check out my Discord!

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"Scaramouche" Kunikuzushi

Dusting some flour off your nose you sigh proudly, hoping the cookies would be just to Kunikuzushi's liking. Quickly finishing up the final touches of your gift, you top the cookie tin with a bow and a small note,

"Kuni,

Please stay safe.

Yours Truly"

Smiling, you make your way toward his office, thankful he wasn't there. Placing the tin upon his desk neatly, you turn around and let out a small gasp of surprise. Meeting your gaze was Kunikuzushi leaning on the doorframe with a smirk playing on his lips.

Feeling your cheeks grow pink, you attempt to walk quickly past him, avoiding his eyecontact, but he stops you, blocking the doorway, "Not so fast," Kunikuzushi starts, "I knew it was you leaving me gifts," he says teasingly, causing your geeks to grow more red as you turn your head to meet his playful gaze.

Yet you begin to notice an air of sadness around him, and squinting your eyes, you realize he had been crying. Out of instinct, you reach up, touching his cheek softly, "You've been crying...," you say meekly.

Flinching at your touch, his eyes falter, and turning his head away, he removes his arm from the doorway to let you pass, "It's nothing," Kunikuzushi explains quietly ushering you out the door, but you stop him.

Wrapping your arms around his neck you hug him softly, kissing his cheek, "I'm always here for you...," you murmur, "I love you."

"I love you too..."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Il Capitano

Brushing off your apron you go to hang it up, smiling happily at the little cakes you had made for your lover, Capitano. He'd never admit to his fellow Harbingers his love of sweets, so only you know this side of him. Packing them up carefully, you leave a little note for him.

Capitano,

Please rest and don't overwork yourself.

Yours Truly

Grinning like a fool in love you sigh happily, content with the way the cakes turned out. You had been hoping he hadn't been working hard. Being always worried about him, you regularly prepare gifts like this often.

Making your way quickly to his office, you peek your head through the slightly ajar door. Gasping softly, your lover is hunched over his desk, painfully obvious he is snoozing. Shaking your head and smiling to yourself, you tip toe over to his desk, placing the small cakes down before a hand grabs your wrist.

Yelping in surprise Capitano immediately lets go realizing it had been you, "Ah, my apologies, love," he says groggily letting out a stifled yawn underneath his mask.

Feeling an overwhelming sense of anxiety, you turn to leave, but his gentle voice stops you, "Leaving already?" Capitano asks, making you stop dead in your tracks, "I...uhm," you start, getting flustered. And upon seeing the little cakes, he ushers you to sit down, and you oblige, "You're still leaving these for me..." he says affectionately, removing his mask to take a bite, "Delicious as always, my love."

Seeing the tired look in his eyes, your frown, "You haven't been sleeping well, have you?" you ask, and he chuckles at your sharp eye. Nodding at your question, you begin to pout, "Let me brew you some chamomile tea to go along with those cakes then," you say quickly getting up.

"No, allow me to take care of you this time."