#and then doesn't buy it but is thinking about it and then later that day Ymber says something v blunt and non flattering

[halfmoonshines]

Reckless

this is an an unnamed point in the timeline, somewhere just before Thunderbolts*

Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

summary: Bucky Barnes would consider himself a level headed man; at least in these later years of his life. He was rarely reckless. So what was it about you that made him dive over that ledge so quickly?

//or; you're not home when you're supposed to be, and Bucky is about to burn a couple of buildings down.

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿

The only sound that accompanies Bucky on his trek home is silence. The sun has already set, a darkened twilight pulling at the edges of the skyscrapers at his back. The house he was in the process of buying sat on the very edge of usually bustling city streets, close enough for both him and his fiancee to conduct business but not in the trenches of downtown traffic, either.

He pauses just before the front door, a furrow between his brow, and scans the long road for any sign of the familiar car that should be parked there. You were almost always home by now, your job not keeping you past a sharp 5pm on the worst of days; but maybe you were out with friends?

He shakes his shoulders slightly, trying to relieve the tension there, and bites back at his anxiety. There was no reason that you weren't perfectly safe, and maybe he would find a text waiting for him when he fished his phone out of his pocket.

He did just that, placing his keys on the table in the dining room and sticking his hand into the pocket of his dark washed jeans. The screen lit his face in the dim light of the house, but it didn't show anything that he had wanted to see.

No notifications.

Against his better judgment, there was a bubble of dread pooling in his stomach. You almost always told him where you were going, especially if you knew that you weren't going to be home when he arrived.

Bucky's jaw worked against itself for just a moment before he makes the silent decision to check your location. He doesn't make a habit of it, and insisted when he asked for it that it was just going to be for emergencies. You hadn't minded either way, more than happy to share it with him if it gave him some peace of mind.

He opened the app with a slightly shaking finger and almost crushed his phone in his hand when it announced that it did not have a current location for you. Last known location was home, nearly three hours ago.

The phone slammed onto the counter and Bucky scrubbed a hand over his face, mind instantly going through the different possibilities of your whereabouts. He tries to remember if you had told him you had some sort of appointment, there was never service in the doctors office, so your location wouldn't update. But three hours?

He dials your number and it rings through to that pitchy voicemail song you insisted was endearing but lasted way too long. Hanging up with a low growl, he dials the number again and his heart beats in time with the ringing on the line. Voicemail, again.

His keys are in his hand and he's dialing a new number before he can even think about it, heading to the garage to get his motorcycle.

"Do you miss me that much? We saw each other thirty minutes ago." Sam's joking but he sounds tense, instantly aware that Bucky should not be calling him right now.

"She didn't tell me where she was going." The tarp is ripped off of his bike angrily. "Her location hasn't updated in three hours and when it was working, it says she was home." Bucky heaves a breath, shutting his eyes for a moment. "No signs of forced entry. But something isn't right, Sam."

"Meet at my office in ten, we'll see if we can't get some footage. Keep calling her."

Bucky nods to himself and reopens his eyes.

"And Bucky?"

"Yes?"

"She's going to be fine."

Bucky's grip on his phone is too tight as he presses the end call button. You would be fine; or a whole lot of people wouldn't be.

The feeling of the gun strapped to his hip is familiar in a disgusting way, but it's also the promise of vengeance. He would be whatever version of himself he needed to keep you safe.

--

You definitely should not have come to this new bulk store on its first day open, but your best friend had basically strong armed you into checking out the opening day sales and grabbing her a list of things because she was on the night shift at the hospital.

It was like Costco and Fred Meyer had a baby, some conglomerate bulk buy store with insane prices but equally insane hours and popularity.

You huff a sigh as your loading the overfull cart into the trunk of your car, the quickly darkening sky a sign that the trip took way too long. You feel your body go completely still as your phone buzzes incessantly in your pocket. When you first walked out of the store, you thought that it was just Rachel texting you over and over about whether or not you got the correct things. But it hadn't stopped, and you realized with sharp clarity that it could very well be Bucky. Panicking over your whereabouts. It was well past your time to be home, and you hadn't remembered to leave a note in the rush to get there before the store closed.

Fishing your phone out of your jacket pocket, your heart hammers in your chest against the sight. 20 missed calls from Bucky, a few from Sam, and a whole slew of texts. You don't bother to sift through them all, You just punch Bucky's number in and hit dial. Hoping that he isn't terrified.

"Doll." The voice isn't coming from the receiver of your phone, but behind you.

You whirl around and Bucky is there, just a few feet behind you, and advancing. You notice immediately that he's stiff as a board, a taut pull at his shoulders and jaw clenched tight. Your eyes snag at the gun on his hip before he's on you, arms enveloping you in a tight hug. He doesn't like to carry that with him anymore. He must've been really worried.

"I'm so sorry. I forgot to text you or leave a note and Rachel insisted I come tonight but I barely had time to get in there after work.." Bucky pulls away from you just slightly, those ocean eyes pitching a tempest. "I'm sorry, Buck. I'm okay."

He pulls back into you then, his head resting on your shoulder. You can feel his breaths ease to match yours, and he just holds you in this bustling parking lot like no one else exists.

"I thought I was going to have to burn this place down." His voice is gravelly, but it's mostly a joke.

You pull away and give him a sly smile. "You thought it was a super secret cover up for a kidnapping ring?"

Bucky shrugs, slinging an arm over your shoulder and leading you to the passenger seat of the car. "Whatever it was, it wasn't going to be anymore."

You laugh lightly and slide into the opened door, marveled by your very own super soldier once again.

"Sounds reckless."

He pauses before he shuts the car door, leaning over so you're face to face again. "Always reckless for you, sweetheart." A quick peck to your lips and he's shutting the door.

Reckless, indeed.

[aemnd]

──𝑎.𝑡. ┆ 𝑝𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑒𝑠𝑠 &. 𝑑𝑎𝑑𝑑𝑦. ♡

𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑒. hii .. ♡ lmk if y'all want more of this lil au .. 🧸

you don't think too hard about it when you sign up for the arrangement.

you're not dumb—no matter what people assume when they see you with your glossy pink lips, your sparkly french-tipped nails, your tight little dresses that barely cover your thighs. you know what you look like. you lean into it, really.

life's too short not to be cute, and if being cute means older, richer men buy you pretty things and take you out to fancy restaurants you can't quite pronounce, well, you don't see the problem.

so when your phone buzzes and your sugardaddy dating app lights up with a message from aemond, you pause. that name alone is hot. one word. powerful. and then you see his photo—sharp jawline, white-blonde hair tied back at the nape, expensive suit, icy blue eye fixed right on the camera.

the other eye? covered with a black eyepatch, which somehow makes him look even hotter.

you message him back with a feminine giggle and a pink heart emoji, because, of course, you do.

thirty minutes later, you're booked for drinks at a rooftop bar that probably has a waitlist for peasants. you dress in pink (always pink), high heels that click across the polished marble floors, and a little heart-shaped purse swinging from your dainty wrist. when you see him in person, you nearly trip.

he's even taller than you thought. he's quiet too, watching you like he's still deciding if he's made a mistake. you twirl a strand of your hair around your manicured finger, sip your fruity cocktail, and tell him all about your day, from the bubblegum lipgloss you bought to the dumb tiktok you tried to film. he listens. doesn't smile. doesn't laugh. but he watches you like you're a puzzle he wants to figure out.

you think he won't call again after your first date with him. guys like that usually want the silent, mysterious type. but he does.

and again.

and again.

before you know it, he's paying your rent and all of your utilities. he gets you a little pink car with a bow on top. your fridge starts filling up with expensive champagne and imported strawberries. he takes you to paris for a weekend just because you pouted and said you were bored.

he doesn't talk much. doesn't tell you about work. but he touches your lower back when you walk into rooms, tips the waiters like money doesn't mean anything, and always smells like cologne and something darker—something dangerous.

you call him "daddy" the first time as a joke.

he doesn't correct you.

things start to change after that. he looks at you differently—less like a sugarbaby, more like something precious.

the first time he kisses you, it's not like the other guys you dated before him. it's not rushed or sloppy. it's slow, deliberate—like he's memorizing the taste of your caramel latte lipgloss.

"why me?" you ask once, curled up in his arms on a leather couch that costs more than your entire wardrobe.

of course, he doesn't answer right away. he simply strokes your hair instead, his long fingers lingering in your soft curls. "you're not like anyone i've ever met," he finally says. "you make everything feel... soft."

you blink at that. "you mean, like, easy?"

"no." his voice drops lower. "like i can finally breathe again."

you don't know what to say. no one's ever said anything like that to you. you're used to being told you're hot. cute. a little dumb, maybe. but not soft, not necessary.

things keep shifting. you still go shopping. he still spoils you. but sometimes, he holds your hand in public now. sometimes, he comes home early just to sit beside you while you scroll through outfits online. you catch him staring at you like he doesn't quite understand how you're real.

you still call him daddy, but now it makes your cheeks warm and your belly flutter with arousal.

one night, he takes you to a formal gala for his family's business. you feel like barbie—long pink satin gown, sparkling jewelry from tiffany's, soft perfumed skin, and hair curled to perfection. you cling to his arm like always, ready to play the perfect accessory. but he keeps his hand at your waist all night. introduces you to people by name. kisses your cheek and calls you my girl.

when you get home, you drop your heels by the door and look at him across the marble kitchen, feeling suddenly shy.

"this is more than just... y'know, a thing, right?" you ask, trying not to chew your lower lip due to your buzzing nerves.

he crosses the room, slow and purposeful. then, he cups your face in his hands and says, "it stopped being just a 'thing' the moment you came bouncing into that bar with your little heart purse and told me the color pink makes you happy."

you gasp, flustered. "you remember that?"

he smiles, small and rare and breathtaking. "i remember everything about you, sweetheart."

that night, he makes love to you—different from before. he touches you like you're breakable, like you're more than just a toy or an accessory, like you're his.

peacefully, you fall asleep on his chiseled chest, your hand over his heart, listening to it beat steady and strong as it lures you to sleep like your own personal lullaby. and in the morning, he wakes you with a kiss on your temple, murmuring, "good morning, baby."

you stretch, giggling like a girl who is happily in love, and pull him back into bed. you may still be his sugarbaby, and you may still wear pink skirts and bedazzled sunglasses, but now, you're something more.

you're loved, and so is he.

© 𝑎𝑒𝑚𝑛𝑑. est, 2025.

[staysdelulus]

hihiii your fics are actually amazing 😭 idk if ur still actively doing any but can u pls do a skz imagine when they're in the middle of getting down and dirty with the reader & the reader suddenly tells them that it hurts

Definitely did not see this a whole 4 months later- But here you go!

Stray Kids Imagine (MDNI) Member will not be named (up to the reader's imagination); member will be referred to by "he" or "him".

Warnings: fem!reader, skz!bf, degrading, rough, oral (fem!receiving), fluff

Asks are open!! I'm back online :)

Word Count: 1973

--

"Babe."

You hadn't been paying attention, not really. It wasn't your fault, bundled up in his hoodie, crocheting while watching complications of your boyfriend on stage.

"Hey," you whisper, smiling softly, a yawn escaping your lips. He smiled back at you, moving closer to gently grab your yarn, putting it aside.

"Y/n," he says quietly, suddenly looking serious. "I've been thinking, you know. About us. I just... I wanted to know if you were saving yourself. For marriage, or-"

He breaks off, cheeks reddening in embarrassment as your own tinged pink with surprise. Giggling softly, you shake your head. "Oh, no, no. I just... I wasn't sure... I mean, I've never done anything before, so... you know."

He just nods, his eyes thoughtful before placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. "I know, baby. I love you, yeah? I won't do anything you don't want to do."

And he kept his promise. Just like he always did. That night was your first time, losing your virginity to the man you loved most. Stretching our your walls, legs wrapping around his torso desperately as soft cries spilled from your lips.

You were... exquisite. Someone he loved more than life itself.

--

And then came the trip. You had told yourself you would be fine. It was just a week, for some promotion or something. A few days to relax in the city, attend the event, and come back. He had promised to text and call you, to send pictures of everything he knew you would love. To buy and shower you with gifts.

He had done just that, spending hours on the phone with you, even if it was in the middle of the night for him. It didn't matter as long as it was with you.

Everything with him was great. To put it bluntly, nevertheless embarrassing... the sex was great. Fuck. His fingers, the way they easily curled deep into you, the way his teeth would nip at your skin. It wasn't hard to feel that familiar ache in your core, that familiar wetness pooling in your panties.

To him, you were the embodiment of purity. Innocence.

And tonight... It was the night before he would come back. Still quite early at 9:00PM. You had retired to bed early, ready to wake up at the first light of dawn and greet him at the door. After all, you were sure fans would be mobbing the airport.

But as you sniffled, your body trembling with a sudden- sudden need, you couldn't stop yourself. The pillow you were hugging shifted between your legs, your hips moving softly as your teeth tugged at your lower lip.

You whimper, gasping at the thrill of pleasure that runs through you, when-

"SURPRISE!"

You gasp, eyes flying open and fixing on the door. He was back early. As your eyes caught his, his own darkened, a mixture of emotions suddenly flashing through his face.

He immediately strided over, grabbing the pillow and tossing to the floor as he snarled softly. "Y/n. What the fuck are you doing?"

Your lips tremble at his words, eyes wide. "I was- I missed- I just-"

He doesn't let you continue, though, his words sharp as he snaps. "Fuck, Y/n. I'm supposed to be the one who gives you pleasure, babe. You can't- You don't get to touch yourself like this, Y/n. You don't get to seek out pleasure without me. I'm the only one who gets to see you like this, the only one who gets to make you feel like this. Do you understand me?"

You only nod meekly, but he's not done. Far from it. "I came home early to surprise you. To worship you, to love you, to fucking devour you. And instead, I find you here, touching what's MINE. Touching yourself like some cheap little slut."

As you swallow back a cry, his eyes narrow, his tone deadly soft. "I should punish you for this. I should put you over my knee and spank you until you can't sit right for a week."

He had never been rough like this before. Never even hoped to suggest it. But now? He was too far in. His hands find your shorts, pulling them off before tearing apart your panties, your core slick and sheened with the need to be pleasured.

He grabs you, bending you over his knee, his own cock throbbing in his jeans."Fuck, look at you," he snarled, his voice rough with a mixture of anger and lust. "So fucking wet, so desperate for it. You really are just a needy little slut, aren't you?"

You cry out as he smacks you, tears blurring your vision as his words wash over you. A mixture of shame and need. Slap after slap, your bottom growing redder with each second.

"Count them," he commanded, his voice harsh and demanding. "Count each one, like the good little slut you are. Let me know how many times you need to be punished for touching what's mine."

His hand came down again, and he growled out the words, his voice dripping with a dark, twisted lust.

"This is what you get for being a greedy, disobedient little whore. This is what happens when you try to take your pleasure without me."

"Please, s-stop," you cry out, your eyes blurred. But he doesn't, continuing his relentless assault before turning you onto the bed.

As your back presses against the cool sheets, he spreads your thighs, pushing your legs up to reveal your core, open and pulsing, waiting for him.

"Fuck, look at this greedy cunt," he snarled, his voice rough and ragged with lust. "So fucking wet and ready. You really are just a set of holes for me to use as I please."

He buried his face between your legs before you could respond, his mouth latching onto your sex like a man starved. He sucked and licked and devoured you with a ferocity that stole your breath, his tongue delving deep into your folds to taste your essence.

He fucked you with his tongue, plunging it in and out of your clenching channel as he sucked hard on your clit, growling against your sensitive flesh. His hands gripped your thighs hard enough to leave bruises as he held you open, keeping you spread wide and exposed for his oral assault.

As he pleasured you, he ground his denim-clad erection against the bed, the hard ridge of his cock throbbing and twitching with each desperate buck of his hips. It was clear how turned on he was, how much punishing and dominating you aroused him.

Your hands curled in his hair, trying to tug him off as you cried. He only growled, nipping at your inner thigh hard before continuing to eat you out. But when you tug again, he snaps.

"BAD GIRL!" he roared, his eyes blazing with anger. "Did I say you could stop? Did I say you could pull me away?"

He released one of your wrists to grip your jaw, his fingers digging into your cheek hard enough to bruise. He forced your head to the side, exposing the vulnerable column of your throat, attacking it with sharp, stinging bites.

"You don't get to tell me no," he growled against your skin, his voice rough and menacing. "You don't get to pull me away when I'm punishing you. I decide when this is over, not you."

To emphasize his point, he bit down hard on the junction of your neck and shoulder, sucking a dark bruise into your skin. His other hand slid down your body, grip your hip hard enough to leave finger-shaped marks.

"This is your punishment," he said, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. "This is what you get for being a disobedient little slut. You're going to take it, every last second of it, until I'm satisfied."

He frees his length, cock springing as his pants lay on the ground. As he pushes into you, you whimper. "H-Hurts- [H/n], it h-hurts-"

Sobs tear from your throat, growing louder with each passing second. Tears spilling down your face. For the first time, you felt the need to use it. "R-Red, [H/n], red- red! Red!"

He pulls away immediately, eyes wide. "Baby, Y/n- What-"

As you cry, body curling in on yourself, he feels his heart sink. Of course. Of course you scared her, you fucking- bastard. She's barely had an experience and here you are calling her a slut.

He stays quiet for a moment before speaking. "Can I hold you, baby? It's okay if you don't-"

His voice cracks slightly, the pain of the guilt weighing on his heart heavily. When you nod, sniffling, back to him, he gently wraps his own body around you, holding you loosely so you didn't feel suffocated. "I'm so sorry, Y/n. Okay? I need you to know that. I did NOT mean to hurt you in any way with my body or my words."

He holds you, letting you turn to him as you cry into his chest. "H-Hurts," you manage to repeat.

"I know, baby. I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry, Y/n. Tell me where it hurts? Please? Let me fix it. Let me make it better," he whispers.

His heart sinks further as you point to your chest. Your heart. The marks he had left, down there. He kisses each of those places, ready to pull away if you needed him to.

As your trembling body slowly stops quivering, he gently rolls you on your back. "Is this okay, baby?"

You nod, your eyes wide. "Just wanted you to be g-gentle. Just-"

As your breath hitches, breaking off slightly, he presses a kiss to your lips. "Shh, baby. I'll be slow, yeah? So slow. And you tell me if you need me to stop. Tell me to stop, and I'll stop immediately."

And with that, he enters you again. Slowly. Inch by inch. Waiting for you to nod, to say yes. To tell him you wanted him to continue. As his hips rocked slowly, thrusting in deep and pulling out all the way before burying himself there again.

He talks you through it, his voice rough with emotion. "Fuck, Y/n. You're beautiful, yeah? You feel so amazing, you feel like- like- fuck. Feel it, baby? Feel the way I'm burying myself in you, yeah? Feel the way your walls are clenching me, hm? So tight. So perfect, babe. Like you were fucking made for me."

With each word, you only let out louder cries. Louder moans. Climbing closer and closer to the edge. Encouraged, his hand delves down between your legs, thumb rubbing your clit furiously.

"Come for me, Y/n," he breathes, words raspy in his throat. "Fuck, Y/n-"

You come. Hard.

He continues to fuck himself deep into you, chasing his own release as he cries out. "Fuck- Y/n- Good girl- Shit-"

You squirt at his words. And he comes right there.

Without another word, he collapses besides you, gathering you in his arms. He lets you catch your breath, his own chest heaving. And when your legs stop trembling, he scoops you into his arms, bringing you into the bathroom.

He cleans you up that night, his touch gentle. Towels soft as he dries you off, dressing you in his clothes. "Get some rest, baby. I'll be here as you fall asleep, and I'll be here when you wake up, yeah?"

"I love you," you mumble sleepily, eyes drooping from exhaustion.

He chuckles, kissing you gently. "I love you, Y/n."

"Mm," you whisper. "And maybe we'll try out those other kinks of yours."

He gasps softly, eyes wide as you finally succumb to sleep. Well, fuck me, Y/n.

--

A/n: So sorry it took SO, SO long for me to do this ask, thank you for your patience :D <33

[autistic-demon-war-criminal]

i have this one specific fantasy of mine that surpass any other fantasies of mine... it is a favorite and one that helps me get off faster than any other one <3

taking an interest onto a young boy, preferably 10 to 13, on the internet and grooming him into being obsessed with me. he can't go as far as not seeing me online or he has panic attacks because he thinks i'm gone forever or mad at him.

i then plot to kidnap him and keep him as my breeding slave. i tell him about how i want to meet him and he agrees! i show up later because its less risky for me.

i take him to the home i live in and lock him up in my closet. where i make him wear fake fangs, puppy headband, a muzzle, paw gloves and socks, a shock collar, and a tail plug. i then only refer to him as an animal, i punish him when he does human traits. i shock him anytime he tries to speak. i whip him if he tries to stand up on his two legs and i kick his ribs if he wants to eat anything other than the high quality kibble i graciously buy him.

he ends up truly believing he is dog. he whimpers and whines for attention or after he's been beat or rxped. he barks and yips when i give him his weekly five pats a day. he learns to crave the taste of piss and cum instead of water.

i breed him every night and if he is pregnant i have him abort the baby by letting me kick his stomach until i know for sure the baby is dead!

eventually, he will die, the poor strain on his little body and the poor diet causes malnutrition which causes him to starve. but it doesn't matter to me. he is still my breeding bitch. i breed his corpse every night. i even cut him up to store his organs in my cabinets as a trophy and memory of my once live puppy breeding bitch. i stitch him back up and his body much more limp than it was before i removed his organs, it's much more easier to throw his body around.

sighh. i always cum soooo hard when i think about this fantasy. its so oddly specific but i adore it.

[theredcuyo]

So, i remembered things i have yet to address in the au (The horrors in tgcf, Jun wu, the rest of the cultivation world from mdzs, Nie Huaisang and Jin Guangyao, Sqq's corpse, Cang Qiong, Tianlang-Jun-) so i'll start by svsss'

After meeting Wen Ning, Sqq remembered "Ah, right, Binghe has the original goods corpse" and that kind of thing, isn't it lowkey important for the sects? They probably haven't even been able to have their mandatory mourning time without it... Ah, really, should he tell Binghe to just give it back? (Shen Jiu said he didn't care about it anymore, he asked if he didn't want to go back, he said the same again, so it is as it is)

Convincing Binghe was another whole deal "But Shizun!"

"Your Shizun is right here, what do you want that for?"

"But... But this is the face of the person who was so kind to this disciple..."

Sqq had a lot of conflicted feelings about that, but he had also learned a thing or two from his in laws "Ah, then Binghe only cares for the face? This one should have guessed as much and just go away"

"No! I... This lowly one didn't mean it like that..." Sqq hitted him with his fan "What lowly one? If it truly doesn't matter then Binghe can let it go"

"But..."

"No buts"

"Yes Shizun..." Sqq sighed again "And i've told you before, i'm not a teacher anymore, haven't i?"

At that, Binghe brightned up "Yes, husband!"

Binghe allowed Liu Qingge to "steal" the corpse and they hoped that was the end of it. Except that he came back a few days later claiming that Binghe had taken it back. He didn't, Shen Yuan not only trusted his husband not to do something against his wishes, but he had been with him all those past days, trying to cheer him up for it, Liu-shidi he sacrificed his ass for days for this, really!

Binghe, of course, beat him up sent him off back to Cang Qiong without an explanation, and when they were going back, perhaps to ask Wuxian is he knew a way to track down corpses, Sqq colapsed

When he woke up, it was to a crying Binghe with haunted eyes that he knew the reason for (Ptsd) and Wuxian explained that someone tried to pull his soul out, if it weren't for him having experience with keeping souls into bodies (Wen Ning), he might've been gone for good

It didn't take a genius to connect the lost body and someone pulling his soul out, and when Sy ran off to try and find Sj, the suspicions were confirmed, to which all he could think was "Fuck"

Next up came him having to "explain" the situation to everyone else, or rather, just telling them the lie he and the original goods had come up with, which was that a Qi deviation had broken his soul in half, which resulted in him who had been living as Shen Qingqiu since some while ago, and another part, which had held the memories and passed into this realm

It wasn't a perfect explanation, and surely they weren't buying it completely, but as Shen Yuan admitted that's what they both thought, and that he had found this "other half" when he came to Ghost city, and had rationalized that this was what Wwx's soul compass had perceived, it was acepted as the logical thinking

To differentiate between both, they had divided their names, neither to keep Qingqiu, "theirs" had chosen "Yuan" and the other one (For the first time being able to choose his own name) decided on "Yi*"

That being solved, they thought of having to search for this man, and as such, borrowed the soul compass (And Wwx) for a bit, finally ending up just near enough the holy mausoleum to make Binghe think if this was really worth it, because Shen Yuan had explained to him that the Shizun that had poured tea on him would've been "the other one" and the one that had given him medicine, and the one who took without a cure for him, had been himself, which made Binghe have his own complicated feelings about this, and well, Sy could not fault him for it, he didn't like the original goods that much either but he was guiltily glad that this issue was distracting Binghe from asking about the abbys

When they were near enough, however, they actually found him, as he was fighthing off with another demon that they didn't recognize

Tianlang-Jun and Zhuzhi-lang had realized sooner than later than this wasn't the Sqq they were searching for, which disrupted their plan quite a bit, but still it kind of worked, since Binghe and the one they wanted was there already

Bad for them, Bingqiu is already married, and they can't exactly use the original goods as much of a hostage as they want

Good for them, there is someone who's good at coming up with solutions about corpses around here "So... What happened to you? You're not My dad but not not My dad, Oh, Shen-Ge is this what you meant by 'deadbeat dad'? Because this sounds like that"

Shen Yuan, having been told the story from Sqh after asking about the original goods past, asked if he didn't just want to get his body back from the mountain, because that could be arranged since the HuanHua palace wasn't an intrusion anymore (He had not learned of the hows, but it's his Binghe who did it, of course he would, who cares how), because he would not allow him to touch a hair on Binghe's head (His Maiden Luo was falling for him all over again at that)

Tianlang-Jun doesn't have anywhere to vent his anger to, but he learned the truth at least, as such, and knowing he can't win this one, he just goes off to travel the human world again with his nephew, maybe come ever now and then to annoy that son of his

Shen Yi* on the meantime, wants to kill Shen Yuan for what he did to their body with without a cure, Sy on his side, considers to try and search for another method, but at the same time, this is the guy who wouldn't have minded killing his husband, indirectly, but still, a scum villain is still a scum villain!

Then the system gives him the new mission of rediming the scum villain, since the genre has been already changed and so have the circumstances around the original character-

Fuck your ancestors, system!

---

Yi* is a name that according to what i found on Google, means "Unique" which i considered for all the hatred the og Sqq had about being numbered, i also considered Qiang, that means strength, and with two characters the name Xinyu, which means new world, for him trying to start anew, you can take any of this if you will as alternatives! (This is research done on Google, do not take me for a trust worthy source!)

I'll probably do a part 2 at some point, but i should also kind of address the plot for the other two too-

[winchestermysterymachine]

When did you become such a busy woman, the winchesters can’t get you alone?

Dean Winchester

pt.1

Dean Winchester

hating dean winchester is a full time job. of course you don't, not actually. you've been friends of his since he was a kid. growing up with a family just like his, you stayed at bobby's house a lot while your parents hunted. it left a lot of time for you to get close, you were just as close to sam as you were with dean, but there had always been a little something more with dean. as you grew up, being in between sam and dean in age, they came around a lot less. john and dean were hunting together, dean took on hunts alone while they had sam stay in a motel or something. sometimes they'd just drop off sam when they were going to be busy for longer than a week. and then suddenly, they just stopped coming around. when you turned eighteen, you officially moved in with bobby. it had been four years since you had last seen the boys when they suddenly appeared on bobby's door step begging for answers, for help. they never stayed long. dean would just give you these eyes like a 'wow, you grew up.' and of course you did, it had been four since you last saw or even heard from sam, and six since you last heard or saw dean. it felt like an honest life time. eventually, you had to help them out on a few hunts, not having anything else to do with your life. but they became dependent on you, and that kinda pissed you off. so you became avoidant. you asked bobby to tell you before they arrived so you could find something else to do while they stayed with bobby. dean noticed about six times in that he hadn't seen you in three months, your stuff was still littered around the house. so he asked bobby and bobby was like 'she's just busy.' and dean doesn't like that you're suddenly unavailable. although, you honestly were just sitting in a diner, constantly buying two dollar crappy coffee or the occasional milkshake until bobby called you to come back. well he called you back, and when you drove back to bobby's, dean's car was still in the lot, and he was leaning against it. you fixed yourself up a bit and exited your car, trying to make yourself look as giddy as possible, like you had been busy, like you had come back from a date or hanging out with friends. dean didn't like that either. he needed your help for the next hunt but you denied, mentioning some plans for the next day, and that you'd have to look into your calendar for your next free date. so dean leaves, and every few days he calls you, not bobby, and you hadn't left the house much, and so he's like 'huh, thought you had plans tonight?' and you're like... lying to his face again. telling him you canceled plans, wanted to stay back with bobby instead, felt sick, they canceled, literally every lie in the book. it was eight weeks until the next time dean appeared at the door step, needing to see you not bobby. you talk, and this time you tell him the truth, at least some of the truth. the reason why you've been avoiding him (and sam to an extent), you didn't tell him you lied about having plans though. and he asks to go on a date. you've got him hooked. but you pull out your phone, discuss a few times and you're just like 'sorry dean, i'm kinda booked up this week and i'm sure you can't stay all too long.' all you wanted was him to beg. beg like all the times you were a kid and had bobby call dean and ask if dean wanted to hang out, watch a movie, even stop by for a hug. but he never budged, he was too busy. and now you are the one who's too busy, even when you're not. so dean suggests something in one month. he'll come back to bobby's in one month, and you agree to that, you can't lie about having plans in a month, plus you want the date. so he leaves and it's a month later. honestly, you're kinda in limbo between forgetting and remembering. there are days where you don't think of dean, where you and bobby are busy, working on cars, hunting, helping other friends of his with cases, being roped into your own problems. but there are days where dean is all you can think of, especially the closer you get to the date. but the day arrives and you're busy.

bobby is out of town helping a friend, you're cleaning around the house when there's a knock on the door. you open it. dean's got flowers. date goes fine. but then after the date's over, he's suggesting another one. you're ecstatic, but you kinda are in the mood for more revenge. so you tell him that you're busy with some new friends, possibly looking into jobs, thing's that a 20 year old woman does with her life. but he'll wait.

"If you don't want me, I'll just deem you gay."

Sam Winchester

you should have seen it coming really. it was far too soon after jess died, but you hadn't been all too sure how much she had meant to him. you had already known sam and dean for a while, your parents had worked with john during their prime hunting days. so now that they're getting old, can't do much anymore, you find yourself at bobby's quite often to learn, take notes, ask questions, help others yourself. you never really cared about hunting, but you did like to learn, and wanted to keep yourself and friends safe whenever something bad comes into the neighborhood. so it's only six weeks after jess has died when you and sam and dean end up all at bobby's house and it feels like love at first sight with sam. he's cute in the lost puppy kind of way. cute in the angsty teenage boy kinda way, but the angst is just all him. he's not pretending, he's just been through it. bobby introduces you to each other and dean says you've met, but not since you and sammy were kids and that feels like a sign to you. you're destined to be together. you don't ask him out that day, he looks exhausted and there's clearly something not too right in his head and he needs a few weeks to heal from whatever messed him up so bad. so you stick around bobby's place a little more than usual, waiting for sam and dean to come back. you're a little nervous to ask him out on a date, you've never done that kind of thing before, but what the hell? life is far too short to let men do everything, they don't know a pretty girl who's actually interested in them even if she does scream in his face 'i like you stupid!'. so it's been about four weeks, one whole month since you last saw sam, and you think he's looking a little healthier but no. he's not doing any better at all. you ask him out on a date and he flat out says no. he's to friendly with you, doesn't see you in a way that isn't friendly. so you stop showing up to bobby's and sam and dean notice, but neither of them bring it up. sam feels guilty. until the boys had to crash there after a bad wreck with baby, and dean needed to fix her up again. when you catch wind of it, you go bar hopping, trying to find a special friend to bring back to bobby's. of course taking him to bobby's house sounds like a nightmare, but all you wanted was to see if sam did anything seeing your "new man". he did not. kind of. he didn't say anything, but seeing you no longer interested in him, and with another guy felt a little weird in his chest. he doesn't trust him. and dean notices right away and asks what's wrong. so he finally tells dean that you wanted to go on a date with him but now you're bringing random men over to grab a beer, or to change your outfit and then back to hanging out with random guy. and dean's like 'dude she totally is just trying to get your attention!' and dean's trying to tell sam every trick in the book to make you crack, but sam had already cracked. so he goes another few weeks without seeing you. he gets busy, you get busy. you're scrambling around bobby's house one evening, making him dinner, he's a bit more grumpy than usual when sam calls in for some back up, but you're cooking, bobby's cussing and drinking in the living room, throwing pretezels at the tv and you're like 'sorry sam, we are way too busy over here.' he feels a little left out. now you and both bobby are too busy for him? you hadn't meant it like that but sam's already cracked shell has broken and he's deciding to come over to find you. he finds you in the kitchen and suggests he help. he's got his hair a little longer since you last saw him, he looks a little more alive, like there's color in his cheeks again. you almost hadn't let him in the house but he just pleads so pretty, so you let him into the mess that is dinner at bobby's. he's helping you cook while you talk, getting to know each other, wondering where dean is. how sam's still alive driving around the impala with dean out at a bar around the corner for the night.

sam doesn't want to talk about dean though. he asks you how you've been getting along with whoever-he-was, and you tell him you're not seeing each other anymore. sam worries for a second, wondering if he did something to harm you, but you tell him it was your decision. and then he asks if you want to go out together for dinner and leave bobby to his own mess. but you deny, not wanting to leave the old grump alone. and sam gets that. so he suggests tomorrow, but you got to head home tomorrow. so he suggests a few more days and it's really funny. he won't take no for an answer. so finally, you're out of excuses a month and a half later, he kinda has a feeling you're messing with him but he'll take it.

"I didn't want you little bitch ass anyway."

Castiel

castiel is an angel of the lord, he doesn't have time for humans. but you cannot take your eyes off of him. he's just so handsome, and although you flirt relentlessly, he's got no common sense yet. you tell him he's handsome, and he doesn't think it's a compliment and he's like 'yes, this vessel has very symmetric facial features.' oh kay. not what you meant, but you'll take it. you start dressing up a little more, putting in more effort into your self. more lipstick, better fashion choices that aren't old layered t-shirts and bootcut jeans. you're not quite sure what he likes, so you try everything. skirts, dresses, heels, sandals, tight tops, short tops, no bra. shaving your legs became a semi-nightly occurrence. when he finally takes notice, it's summer and you're wearing a pretty white baby doll dress, lounging on the couch at a motel while sam and dean and cas talk lore. and castiel looks over, noticing your appearance. 'you look like a bride.' castiel points out and dean nudges him. some people don't want to look like a bride, some women don't care about marriage but you do. it can mean one of many thing's. one, you look good enough to marry. two, you look as beautiful as a bride. both of those are very good to you. you wear white a little bit more. huh, who would've thought the angel liked white? you wear white shorts, white baby doll tops. it catches his attention more than he'd ever admit. castiel, the innocent little angel he is, thinks of white as something pure, clean, untouched. seeing you dressing up more in white really does something to his chest. but the more he notices, the more he realizes you're leaving the motel. you're going on more food runs, you're going to grab coffees, go for drives alone, taking walks, running to the library, tagging along to the morgue visits more, salting more bodies. he notices your little disappearing acts. he could definitely go whenever the hell he wanted, he has, just to escape the constant bickering of sam and dean, but what he realizes as soon as you disappear behind the motel door, the sound of the engine roaring to life as you back out of the parking spot, he realizes he's missing you go when you're gone. this feeling, it's not the same friendship and love that sam and dean have taught him. it's a weird feeling in his chest he's never felt before. he thinks something's wrong so he tells dean that he feels weird whenever you're around and dean's like 'woah buddy, i don't need to know all that.' and cas is confused, as normal. and dean notices his confusion, so dean is like, 'you think she's hot and she's getting you all hot and bothered?' and cas is like, yes but no, but yes but no. it's more than a sexual attraction. deans like, 'well you love her then?' and cas is like 'but not the way i love you and sam.' and dean doesn't need to say anything else, just says to tell you that. of course, you're running around the motel like a chicken without a head, and he stops you and tells you plainly. he's interested. finally, finally you've got the guy right where you want him.

"i’ll be your perfect mrs. till the day that one of us dies.”

So, are you letting them come into your calendar tonight?

[warriorlid14]

So, I'm guessing this is a situation where Tobias isn't a nothlit.

Rachel's mom: she's overworked and overwhelmed and gets little help from Dan, all of which don't make her an ideal foster parent, BUT. She's also a privileged, wealthy lawyer so I think she'd be likely to be approved to foster him. I do think that in a Tobias-is-a-human world she'd be one of the adults he's in closer proximity to, simply because that's his girlfriend's mom. And I think Naomi *would* notice that this shy, quiet kid her daughter is dating is undefed, doesn't have the best clothes, is overworked (if Tobias stayed human I can't imagine him not being forced to take a part time job; Marco is also parentified but he got out of poverty pretty early on with Peter's new job and Tobias would not have that luxury), and is probably neglected. I think she'd probably want to help out. I don't think that it'd be through fostering though. I can picture her having extra food around for him or trying to buy him new clothes or telling him that he's welcome to crash on their couch whenever. And ofc she probably wouldn't want her daughter and her boyfriend living together. So unless things got really really dicey for Tobias and he actually told her (which he wouldn't), I don't think she would. I do see the possibility of her calling CPS on his uncle though which could cause a whole other set of issues.

Cassie’s parents: also unlikely to end up in a fostering situation because he's not around them much and also he would be trying his hardest to NOT end up in the foster system (and not just because it would make fighting yeerks harder). But if it DID happen, this is how I think it would go:

He gets kicked out of his uncle's in the middle of the night for xyz reason

He could try to crash at Jake or Marco’s but it's too late in the night and he'd have to give an explanation and doesn't want to admit he's been kicked out

It's too cold to stay at Ax's. He *could* break into a hotel room but he still remembers how much Jake disapproved of that move with David and though Tobias is not morally opposed to breaking into an overpriced, empty hotel room, he'd feel weird about it

So he decides to crash in Cassie’s barn and he'll just get up before anyone else comes in and then make some excuse to crash at Jake or Marco’s for the next few days until things clear up at his uncle's

Except he doesn't wake up early enough and so Walter finds him sleeping on a hayloft

Cue Tobias having to hastily explain to a very confused Walter and a very concerned Cassie, that yes, his uncle kicked him out, but it's fine this has happened before ("What do you mean this has happened before??") and that it's not a big deal. His uncle will cool off in a few days. No he has no other family to call, but it's fine. He'll rent a hotel room for a few days, he has some money saved up, and Oh God please don't call CPS

So Cassie’s parents let him stay in the spare room for a week. They sit Cassie down and ask her about his family life and she tells them the truth

And Cassie’s parents didn't really know Tobias beyond him being Cassie’s friend and being kind of quiet and shy. But they still feel guilty for not noticing that one of her friends was being horribly neglected. And they tell him that he's welcome to stay any time. And start packing Cassie and extra lunch for school and ask about him and make sure to talk to him any time he's around

Tobias, in gratitude, volunteers to help out at the barn sometimes and so they form a bond

When his uncle kicks him out again a couple of months later, Tobias sheepishly shows up at their door and they let him in without question. He once again asks him to not call CPS

And they understand the lack of trust in a system that's supposed to, in theory, help. But also this is a teenager who's being abused and they can't just let this continue. Plus, they really like him. So when Cassie’s parents ask her if she'd be okay with them fostering Tobias, she's like "omg please", being his friend first, thinking about consequences for the war second

At the subsequent team meeting, Tobias says that while he really appreciates the concern, truly, it'll be a security risk. Marco reluctantly agrees. Jake mentally agrees but also feels so horrible that he didn't realize how bad Tobias’s home life was that he doesn't vocalize it. Rachel and Ax plot on how to kill Tobias’s uncle while making it seem like an accident

Cassie points out that if he let his parents foster him, Tobias wouldn't have to work anymore which would actually free him up for missions. This is enough to change Jake's mind (who rlly was just looking for an excuse to say yes)

A few weeks after he's moved in to Cassie’s house, Tobias sneaks back into his room in the middle of the night after a mission. Her parents catch him. He's convinced that they're going to decide he's too much trouble and send him back to his uncle's. And even though he had said it's what would be best for the war because his uncle didn't care that he was out at all hours, he really really doesn't want to go back

But instead they sit him down and tell him that they understand he's having a tough time and that they hope he can trust them and talk to them. He only barely manages to not burst out sobbing

The kids have to rely more on the Chee to cover for Cassie and Tobias

Also ofc Dude moves in as well

BIG THINK: Tobias fostered by one of the other animorphs parents

I'm drawing a blank as to how the kids could do this while still maintaining their cover. Only Jake or Cassie's parents are likely to get permission to foster a kid, Jake's house is a bad idea for obvious Tom-reasons, and Cassie's might work but she'd have a heck of a time explaining how she suddenly knows this kid so well. Anyone else have ideas?

[moeblob]

I'm sorry for the OC brain rot on main....

(the lines are from a post about "tag yourself: awkward/unflirty Sims edition" and honestly? all my OCs are awkward/unflirty so ... yeah...)

[things-about-cars-in-posts]

This is a car worth spotlighting!

Not just this fantastic example, but the Smart Car itself! (That's not an official name, btw. We'll get to those.)

The CEO of Swatch, the group that dared ask "What if small, economical, plastic, customizable and tells the time?", dared ask "What if small, economical, plastic, customizable and is car?", and Volkswagen seemed to think it was a good question.

However, '93 would put the emphasis on seemed, when the move of disagreer Ferdinand Piëch from leading Audi to the whole VW group and canned the project - both disagreeing with the 2-seater idea (which, to be fair to it, was based on research showing the average Eruopean car only had 1.2 passengers) and believing they could make a small car by themselves (and to be fair to him, they did end up making the fantastic Volkswagen Lupo and Audi A2).

Fortunately, however, Mercedes was also interested in the idea, having made similar considerations in the past, and the following year the world would be introduced to the result of their partnership:

MCC.

The MCC eco-sprinter concept car, since tan and green was just far too mundane for an interior, was accompanied by an open top MCC Eco-Speedster,

and oh boy.

Now that puts even OP's car to shame.

Mercifully, the Micro Car Company would later deviate from the name of a character in a middle school science book rapping about the speed of light, and its cars' shape would deviate from...

...this.

It would also, however, deviate from Swatch's ideas hard enough for leave Mercedes to continue alone - though their contribution would be nodded to by the new name: s(watch)m(ercedes)art.

But worry not, the following concept car would reassure the viewing public that funkiness was not deviated from at all.

And sure, everyone can make a concept car with a funky interior - and frankly, it's rare that anyone doesn't. It's arguably the favorite victim of the harsh reality of mass production, to the point that the most many car world veterans dare hope for is that any interesting detail survives the watering down.

And, despite my dogged efforts to market this blog to the uninitiated, I'm well aware most of my readers know it too.

So why don't I just post the production spec interior?

Well, I have a better question:

Why don't you just get pranked?

This is a production spec interior. Everything you see in this picture was officially built and sold by the Mercedes group. This is a factory Smart CityCoupe people could and did order and buy and use to roam around.

And as you can see from this dramatization, they were damn comfortable while doing so!

And they could even spec further options, like a tape deck, a rev counter, a clock ("What if small, economical, plastic, customizable and is car and tells the time?")...

...and some truly heinous color combos!

But worry not, the weird was far from stuck indoors!

Check out this CityCoupe's subtle colorway!

Or how about this one from after the car was facelifted in 2002 and its name changed for the final time into Smart ForTwo?

I mean, look at that. Tell me, even if like me you're a European accustomed to seeing swaths of them the moment you step in a city, that is not one of the funkiest mainstream vehicles of its day - if not one of the most outstanding.

This is the Smart's cell, dubbed "Tridon". And if giving your car's frame a name seems self-impressed: America's Insurance Institute for Highway Safety (IIHS) called its safety "average". And at 2.54m car, America's classification system calls its size half of "midsize". This 90s design is as safe as the cars driven by the people making these dumb fucking memes.

The Smart crash is my personal 'identifying as an attack helicopter' - when you make that joke I automatically know you're someone who doesn't want reality to spoil their fun.

And the reality is that the Smart is an amazing little thing.

Even before Mercedes tuner Brabus's fiddling.

Though it certainly doesn't hurt.

Links in blue are posts of mine about the topic in question: if you liked this post, you might like those - or the blog’s Discord server, linked in the pinned post!

the car tower has donned its gay apparel.

(see my car tag for other pics of its glory)

[katyspersonal]

Cool.. Our rent price got raised. :') I did not know it was even possible to get even MORE poor than me and mom already were, but here we are. Guess I'll start surviving on literal bread and water at this rate.

[iwakuraz]

I've been in a long distance relationship exactly one time and it was so silly tbh bc like.. I was twelve, she was fifteen and we would send pictures of hedgehogs to eachother instead of flirting because our communication was just so good

[kkusuka]

more roommate simon!

i love the idea that simon thinks he's super open and available with his emotions and reader thinking he's really cold and disinterested. is he ooc? yeah. do i care? no. if you want cannon ghost, play the game!

simon riley doesn't know when you became so important to him.

the only reason he even put out the ad for a roommate was because his landlord though he'd moved out while he was away and he'd rather have some bird in his place than deal with that again.

you were just so easy; showing up to the coffee shop (where you requested to have your first meeting just in case he was some crazy murderer) face flushed, strands of hair all over the place, and sweater a mess; rushing to explain how you got sprayed by a sprinkler on your walk over then chased by a dog. and just as you repeat sorry for the 30th time simon thinks he's in love. you're officially his roommate 30 minutes later.

but it's so out of character for him. he hasn't been around anything other than hard ass military men since he was a teenager. fuck, he's killed hundreds of men in his line of work, tortured thousands more. (he doesn't like to think that that's why he's so drawn to you. that you're so different from who he has to be, someone he's been for so long, that being around you lets him breathe. that he feels like he can actually sit and enjoy his moments away from the field in your tiny manchester apartment.)

he thinks it actually started with the decorations.

the small trinkets you let around the common spaces when he was away. it starts with your room obviously; fairy lights above your bed that spills light into the hallway when he comes home in the early morning hours, paintings on the wall that eventually flow over into the living room, the small plants in your window sill that you ask him to water one day after you leave for work.

then the dinner table suddenly has checkerboard placemats and a vase of flowers that change with the season. and his run-down couch has decorative pillows and a throw blanket (both words he learned from you when he questions what the fuck is on his couch). then the bathroom in the hallway gets a new soap stand, and a mat is placed at your front door, next to the shoe organizer and coat rack.

so he starts buying things too; the penguin plushie in the supermarket window, the vase that matches the curtains in the living room, and a small skull magnet to rest on the face of your fridge.

and before simon knows it his dreary, cold apartment actually looks lived in. and instead of coming home to a dark hallway and an empty fridge, your flower lamp is on, some random show from the 90s is playing, and there's food on the table.

he gets to know you more than he thought he would; he knows what foods you don't like, the books you're reading and the ones you refuse to read again, and even that dick from work he promises to take care of if he bothers you again (it's evident that you think it's a joke and not something that he would genuinely do but simon doesn't think he's ever been more serious).

but he never lets you know too much about him, you don't need to know about it and the less you find out the better.

then came dinners, actual dinner not just him showing up while you already had food ready. you would ask if he wanted whatever you had made ( 'i'm already making food and i normally don't eat is all anyway, so i might as well share' ). so suddenly he was spending his nights at your table with a homecooked meal and simon doesn't think he could ever let this go.

then he gets sent away again, for way longer this time. he makes sure to update his paperwork, changes his emergency contact, your name swirled onto the spouse line. you were probably as close as he'll ever get to one and if you're there they'll tell you if anything happens to him faster. he doesn't want to think of how nice your first name looks with his last name. and you'll probably never even know, simon's never gotten that injured before and he doesn't plan on it now.

months in the heat of the middle east return him to hard shell of a man he was. coming home caked in dirt, blood speckled on his clothes; he doesn't want you to see him like this, he doesn't want you to know this version of him. and for the first time he regrets letting you come into his life.

you are home when he gets back, 2:30 in the morning and every light is off, he opens your door to make sure. you're asleep, not shocking, cuddled into the giant octopus you won at an arcade. he tries not to move, he just wants to look at you for a little bit.

he wakes up the next morning to breakfast and a new pair of combat boots. he's only home for a week this time, not that he's ever home for longer than a month, and he tries to soak up all of your time. you complain about your car, he's on it. the heater started being testy, that's fine he'll take care of it. he's going grocery shopping with you, he watching that weird hospital show, and he enjoys his time in domestic bliss before getting thrown back into some random country.

somehow that all led him here. laying in a hospital bed with two bullets lodged in his shoulder with you sitting in some shitty chair pulled as close to the bed as you could.

"so uh, i'm mrs. riley now?"

"yeah, ya are. 'av been for a while."

[rosiereveries]

You met John Price in some shity bar where your friends dragged you to celebrate someone's birthday. John immediately noticed you and he sent you a few drinks. The whole time you had no idea who your secret admirer was. When John notices that your friends start to leave, he finally approaches you. He asks you if he could buy you another drink not mentioning that he was your source of alcohol the whole night. After some talking you know that you don't want the night to end. That's how you end up in his apartment, with slow music playing in the background sitting on John's lap and making out. Both of you know that this will end in his bed. John is making mental notes that he must ask you for your number in the morning. He doesn't want this to r just one time thing, he wants to invite you out, properly date you. What John doesn't expect is waking up alone in the morning. You left pretty early and only left a note on his kitchen table saying : thanks for the night xoxo

Now almost a year later John can't stop thinking about you. He comes to the conclusion that you were not from the town and you were just visiting. His friends make fun of him, for falling in love with a random girl who he slept with only once. Imagine his surprise when he finally sees you in town, in some cute bakery waiting in line for you sweet treat. It is just like in his fantasies, when he sees you and asks you for a date and you agree and eventually you spend your life together. What he does not expect is a chubby baby boy that you hold. He quickly does the math. His is 100% sure that the baby is his. He waits for you outside preparing his speech. When you walk out of the cafe pushing the pram you finally see him. The man from the bar you met a year ago. You don't have any time to process what is happening. In one moment John is walking to you and the next moment his is kneeling in front of you holding your hand talking about doing the right thing. He tells you that he knows this is not how you imagined this, but he is here now and he will help you raise your baby. He asks you to marry him, tells you he will give you a good life. You don't have to work just focus on raising his child.

When he finally lets you explain the situation you just laugh at him. You tell him that it is not his baby. And it is not even yours. You're just babysitting for your friend who asked for your help. You also remind him that you used protection when you slept together and he finally starts to think again. John joins you on your walk and he spends the whole day with you and the baby. He finally asks you for your number. Just before he goes to bed that day, he texts you and asks you out. You agree, but he has to promise, that he will not propose to you for at least a year. And no unprotected sex for him too. That will break his heart but anything for his darling. He will make sure you will have a nice ring on your finger before he makes you a mom. Don't worry he will make it the right way.

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[ratspider]

i hate that thing i do where i prioritize drawing/painting/sculpture above like every other form of art. like if i fill a sketchbook that's more of an accomplishment than this cool hat i made. maybe the equivalent to that is crafting an entire outfit down to making the pattern myself. or filling a box with Stuff I Sewed. idk, i think drawing is just valued so so so much online and i watch all those sketchbook tours and i'm like Wow! these people are so motivated and these sketchbooks are so cool and filled with personality and just. so dense with creativity and I Wish I Could Do That but i already do. i just don't do the 'one sketchbook a month' thing. i have The Yearning but not the drive to draw that much and i need to just value what i'm already doing that's easy for me to do right now.

[pomefioredove]

can I request house wardens + leech twins with a reader who doesn't eat enough bc Crowley doesn't give them enough for food, and they end up really ill and collapsing or something. I'm cravin some fluffy comfort rn, pls and thank you 🙏

I got you🫡🫡 as someone who's been through an eerily similar situation, I really liked this request

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ another crowley moment™️

type of post: headcanons characters: riddle, leona, azul, floyd, jade, kalim, vil, idia, malleus additional info: romantic or platonic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, mentions of food and not eating

Riddle wouldn't even have to like you to rush to your side. but he does like you, which makes it all the worse

after checking your vitals, you're in the infirmary. he's got doctors for parents, after all, and he knows that malnutrition is bad

he should have seen the signs...

with exams coming, he's been so busy, and he assumed that you were just tired from studying

but he can feel guilty later. right now, he needs to focus on you getting well again, and not killing Crowley

(then, of course, he'll look for some legal statute or clause that he can threaten Crowley with so you're fed properly)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Leona noticed you'd been acting a little weird lately, but watching you collapse still puts him in shock

luckily, Ruggie and Jack are nearby to help you to the infirmary, so Leona can focus on hunting Crowley down like an animal

there are very few times where Leona is particularly grateful for his status, but this is one of them. just one word on how his family will be hearing about Crowley's neglect, and the old bastard is begging him for forgiveness

even after that, Leona still sends Ruggie with snacks and drinks to Ramshackle

and if you ever scare him like that again, you'll regret it (lovingly)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

the news of you collapsing during flight lessons reaches Octavinelle rather fast. no one is particularly surprised, since Floyd had mentioned how easily you'd been bruising lately just the night before, but everyone is certainly worried

Azul is the first at your side, asking you all sorts of questions, worried sick. Jade has to remind him to give you space to rest, since you look exhausted (had you always had those dark circles? how could Azul have not noticed?)

now, Azul and the tweels could easily find a way to pressure Crowley, but they know better than to trust him

from now on, you'll be eating in the Mostro Lounge, free of charge

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

perhaps Kalim was just oblivious, because he really didn't think anything was wrong until you were suddenly on the floor in front of him

sure, you'd been a little moody lately, but he figured it was just a thing you were going through. and besides, you know that you can talk to him about anything... right?

Jamil hurries to check your pulse, and shouts for him to get the school nurse- which is jarring, because Jamil never shouts

when you explain everything to Kalim later, he feels... terrible. he should've known- no, he should've asked

Kalim insists you stay at Scarabia while you're recovering, and makes sure you have the most enriching, delicious meals money can buy

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Vil knew it was bad, but not this bad. if he had known you were on the verge of collapsing, he would've taken a firmer approach to getting you to eat

you're going to worry him to death someday, you know that?

after he's done verbally eviscerating Crowley, he'll insist on joining you at every meal. he'll eat at Ramshackle, breakfast, lunch, and dinner, if that's what it takes

he's subtle about it, at least

if he notices that your plate feels empty, he'll just take some food from his and put it on yours. gracefully, elegantly, without a word

you'll come home one day to see your kitchen stocked with vitamins, supplements, and apples (courtesy of Epel)

<3 and a note that says he'll treat you to dinner whenever you want

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

never scare Idia like that ever again. he wasn't even with you when you collapsed, and he STILL nearly had a heart attack

listen, he knows he's not a great role model when it comes to nutritional eating, but you have got to tell him these things. he would've had Ortho go get takeout! or something!

typical Crowley behavior, SMH. what does he think you are? a rabbit? even the school horses get treated better...

no way that Idia is going to even bother with that old fart, anyway. you want something? he'll get it for you. you don't even have to ask, he'll just send food to your place (and have Ortho check your vitals more often but shhh)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

I would not want to be in the room when Malleus finds out about this

not even the building. you know what? I'd steer clear of the whole island, because it will not be pretty

when you collapse in front of him, it feels like he's dying, too. the panic sets in, and he sends Lilia to look after you, and Silver and Sebek to escort you to the infirmary, and then he casually threatens to smite Crowley. obviously

if the students and staff of NRC thought Malleus was scary just being Malleus, he's terrifying when he's mad

(rest assured that you will be getting ten times the amount of food from now on)

it's thunderstorms for days after, but he never leaves your side

[inbabylontheywept]

the fine and subtle art of arguing with old men

it was a good week for testing which meant it was a slow week for me. most of my job is fixing the machine when it goes down. if it doesn't go down, i don't have much to do. 

fortunately neither did marc. in a site full of ornery old bastards, he's the oldest and the orneriest, so it goes without saying that i enjoy spending time with him. he reminds me of my grandpa. hell, he reminds me of a lot of people. i've befriended enough grumpy old men that i've got a sort of momentum to it now - you know how it is, when you meet someone that reminds you of someone else you really like. you get to start that friendship off half built, because you already have an idea of how to like that guy, and some of that old warmth can be brought to the new friendship. a little ember to start the stove up with.

(i think that's one of the really undersold beauties of getting older. you stop viewing people as strangers and more like remixes of friends.)

anyway, i was sitting next to marc and we were talking about the future. i've got my eye on having kids sometime soon (year or two? hopefully?), and he's very happy for me. i've tried asking him for advice, but all he says is that he didn't do a great job with his own kids and they still turned out okay, so i should stress less and trust myself more. i hope he's right. he believes it, at least, and it's a hell of a thing to have the faith of an old man. his faith is hard won.

as for his plans, he's retiring at some point in the next six months, and is hoping to sell his home and buy something in florida. he's republican, so he views the state as paradise, and i'm not inclined to even try talking him out of it. it's his dream, you know? i know for a fact my paradise would be a lot of people's hell. life's funny like that.

still, we kept going on, and it was a good time, and then he reminisced about the last time he got close to quitting - back around 2020. our job required getting vaxxed, and he refused, and there was a big kerfuffle about it before the job actually backed down. i know there's not a lot of sympathy for the unvaxxed out here, but the man's 62. you get the shot when you're under 30 to protect the people around you, but when you're over 60, you're just getting it to protect yourself and it's hard to be mad at someone for kicking their own ass. 

still gave me pause though. i knew he wasn't going to take it well, but half the job of collecting curmudgeons is keeping them around, so i said 

hey. i'm sorry they bent your arm over it, but.

but. 

you should really get that shot. 

and he looked over at me, and i looked at him, and he actually spat. not on me, just the concrete, but it was enough to show that he was mad. then he walked away, as abrupt as anything.

i felt bad about it. i wasn't sure what i'd expected, when he was willing to lose his job over it before, but i'd been so invested in his dream of retirement - the idea of him sipping margaritias on a beach next to his wife, the wife he calls every day during lunch, the wife he says is the one thing in life he ever got right on the first try. the wife that almost divorced him back when he was in the airforce because he just wasn't home enough. 

(but he can be home now.) 

and then he mentioned the vax thing, and it was like seeing a pin hit a balloon. he works out every day and takes all sorts of crazy vitamins and is generally committed to getting the most out of his pension and his life. i didn't want this dumb weak point to be his achilles heel. 

---

i wasn't actually sure how long marc would be mad at me. i've seen him stay mad at some people for weeks. i wasn't sure if being friends would make that time go up or down. 

it went down. i'm glad it went down. 

he stopped being mad about two days later. we were doing front end maintenance one morning, and it was just that simple mechanical rhythm - hex key, replace the anode sheets, punch some off-gassing holes, oil it up, put it back in - that put things at ease. it always does. people working there are too busy to remember grudges, and it has this sort of mandatory practical communication that helps smooth things over. it was going great, and then out of the blue he said babs, you gotta be careful giving advice. those shots come with complications. what would you do if i got that shot, had a stroke, and died? 

and i don't know what answer he was expecting, but i just told him the truth, which is that i would be devastated. i'd feel like i killed him. i thought that was a pretty normal response, but he looked taken aback. he asked why i said it then, and i said i'd have felt the same if he died of covid. that's just life. sometimes, there's no way forward that doesn't risk some kind of regret. 

we finished the tube after that, in a silence that felt heavier than peace but lighter than anger. it felt like the ball was back in marc's court. like it would be rude to take that turn from him. 

we parted ways with a nod and didn't speak until the next day. 

---

i was doing spreadsheet work when he found me again. standard paper engineering - thinking of things we might need and ordering them in batches, months ahead of time. it always feels a little like plugging holes in a dam with my fingers. 

but he popped up, and we didn't even exchange pleasantries. he just said i'm gonna die one day, and you can't blame yourself for that. 

which is a hell of a thing to just tell someone right off the bat. 

so i said what 

and he said babs, i am in my 60s. something is gonna get me eventually, and whether it's covid or heart disease, or a stroke, there will be something you could have said or done before. and that's okay. it's not your job to make me live forever. 

and you know, he actually made a lot of sense. so i said 

okay. 

i'll keep your business yours. i just

you were talking about your retirement before this. and i want that for you very much. you've worked hard for 45 years, and you deserve a break. we're getting to sick season, and it would be the saddest fucking thing in the world if you got this close to winning the race then tripped in the last ten feet. 

and we sat there a few moments longer. i wasn't sure what to say, and i wasn't sure what he'd say, but eventually he just shrugged and said

yeah 

then he left. i figured that would be the end of it. 

---

i did front end maintenance yesterday, after being gone a week. it's one of my favorite things to do. i like working with my hands. i really like working with my hands. i'm glad i went to college, but in a different life, i think i could've made a better electrician than an electrical engineer. 

and at one step, when we were both hoisting the plate back onto the machine, his sleeve rode up, and i saw two bandaids on his arm. 

we finished the install, and i was ready to go back when marc actually stopped me. 

i got the shot, he said, almost embarrassed. like he'd been caught. and i knew he was gonna say something dumb about it, so i just cut him off by giving him a hug. 

i was relieved. hugging old men is kind of like picking up cats. if they like you a lot, they'll tolerate it, but that's about it. we sat there maybe three beats before his hands went up, and then he gave me one overly-hard thump on the back. in my experience, this is how old men tell you that they're done, so i let him go.

carla talked me into it, he said, almost defensive. his wife. his one good decision.

tell her i said thanks, i said back.

trump got the shot too, he said, less defensive, but oddly pleading. like he was consoling himself.

like he was nervous.

then it's gotta be safe, i said, and he looked up at me, strangely searching, strangely vulnerable. i don't know exactly what he was looking for, but i guess he found it because after a few moments his shoulders relaxed.

yeah, he said, one hand on the back of his head.

it's gotta be.