#and then having to get used to a completely different lifestyle when you barely had an idea of the outside world before

[foxstens]

genuinely can't imagine how kevin even got through his first few months at psu

[kitten4sannie]

ɪɴᴅᴜꜱᴛʀʏ ʙᴀʙʏ

ᴄᴜᴄᴋᴏʟᴅ/ᴄᴜᴍ ᴘʟᴀʏ ➠ ᴍɪɴɢɪ/ʜᴏɴɢᴊᴏᴏɴɢ

pairing: singer/rapper bf! mingi x fem! reader x guitarist! hongjoong

genre: band au, smut

summary: your bf’s band has such a good set, that he doesn’t mind sharing you with the handsy guitarist. anything for his baby. he just wants to assess the damage afterwards.

w.c: 3.2k

warnings: open relationship, mentioned alcohol/drugs use, dom! mingi/hongjoong, joongie’s got a tongue piercing ^^, sub! reader, so muchhh cucky behavior, mxm if you squint, teasing, perversion, dirty talk, degradation, pet names, fingering, oral (receiving), voyeurism/exhibitionism, unprotected rough sex, actual phone sex, creampie, two seconds of cockwarming, cum eating, more oral and fingering, some clit nibbling, squirting

a/n: urgghh im obsessed with tunnel and mingi and hongjoong’s guitar solo and just minjoong in general hhhhhnn also idkw happened but hongjoong is giving me more and more brainworms these days and i just i’m uhhhhh 🧎🏻‍♀️so yeah please enjoy whatever this is <33

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ᴅɪɢɪᴛᴀʟ ʙᴀᴛʜ ʙʏ ᴅᴇꜰᴛᴏɴᴇꜱ

0:01 ❍─────── 4:28

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ᴘʀᴇᴠ | ꜰꜰꜰ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ | ɴᴇxᴛ

You were always full of nerves before your boyfriend’s band went on, especially when the previous band was finishing up their encore. Hanging out backstage was always hectic too, the venue’s employees running around like headless chickens in pursuit of completing the latest task their manager gave them, members of other bands and their entourages engaging in boisterous conversations, drinking, and doing drugs amongst themselves, their actions up to par with the touring lifestyle. It wasn’t until you ran into the guitarist of your boyfriend’s band, Hongjoong, that your nerves doubled, but for a different reason. 

“Y/N, there you are. Where have you been, huh?” Hongjoong greeted you with a hug, resting his solo cup against your lower back, his free hand moving down to your ass, squeezing it a few times through your skirt, sighing against your skin, his body relaxing against yours. “I missed my stress toy…” 

“Joong,” you whined, pushing gently at his leather bound chest, your hand almost getting tangled in one of his silver chained necklaces. “You always get so grabby before a show. What if Mingi sees?” 

Hongjoong rolled his eyes, leaning his face into your neck, alcohol on his breath. “You know he wants to see it. And it’s not my fault I can't keep my hands off you. Just look at you…” The buzzed guitarist gazed down at your body with hooded eyes, his jaw tightening up more and more the longer he pictured what you looked like folded up for him and taking everything he had to give. “You’d look so good underneath me, baby. Spread open all nice and wide…fuck….” 

“Joongie, please…” you whispered, squeezing your thighs together, pressing your back into the concrete wall behind you, feeling him press further into you as a result. 

“You can beg for me after the show, sweetheart. Just let me get a peek, okay?” Knowing he had you right where he wanted you, Hongjoong slowly ran a calloused finger along your jaw, down your neck to your rising chest, pleased with the way your breath hitched, his dark eyes flitting between your gaze and the slope of your bare tits through your thin white tank top, unable to resist pulling down the neckline of your top until he had a good view of your pebbled nipples. “Look at that. You’re just aching to be touched, aren’t you?” 

You were so wet, you could’ve sworn that you were about to drip all over the backstage floor, barely able to form any coherent words besides a small ‘yeah’, letting the perverted guitarist grab at your hips, his fingers pressing into your hip bones, a low groan leaving his lips. 

“Wanna fuck you, baby, wanna make you mine,” Hongjoong sighed into your ear, about to describe his needs in detail and put his hands all over you when Mingi came around the corner, a lollipop poking through his cheek, his ringed fingers rubbing at the mascara near his lash line. 

Mingi stopped in his tracks, towering over the both of you due to the studded boots he always wore during his shows. He studied you, noticing how flushed you were and how hard you were already breathing. He couldn’t help but to pull his sweet lollipop out to bite at his plump lip, his cock ready to come to life. “Oh? What’s this about, sugar?” 

“Babyy, there you are,” you greeted, bouncing on your heels, making grabby hands at your boyfriend. 

In return, Mingi lifted you up and spun you around in a tight hug, making sure to press a kiss to your cheek before putting you back down in front of his favorite bandmate. 

“Joongie’s being all needy again,” you giggled, leaning back against Hongjoong’s chest. 

“Can’t help it.” Hongjoong casually handed his drink to Mingi who took it and knocked it back, wrapping his arms around you from behind, leaning his head on your shoulder, a sickening smirk gracing his feline-like lips. “Hey, Minnie. Wanna make a bet?”

“What kind of bet?” Mingi licked at the corner of his salivating mouth, pulling at the crotch of his heavy, chained pants, his cock pressed against one of his thighs, growing harder just from seeing the way you fit perfectly inside his bandmate’s arms. Shit. 

“If I nail my guitar solo tonight, will you let me have Y/N for a night?” Hongjoong requested, nuzzling his face against your heated cheek, making a small pouty face at his dear bandmate. 

Mingi knew he shouldn’t be getting this worked up before a show, but it might make him perform better if he was thinking about how bad he wanted you, and how he couldn’t have you until Hongjoong did. He knew the odds of Hongjoong hitting every single note perfectly was a 50/50 chance. His chances were even lower if he had access to a bottle of jack that night, though Mingi was aware that his bandmate was quite skilled with his calloused fingers, only knowing because you wouldn’t shut up about it a few nights ago. 

The lead singer decided he would push all his chips onto the table, knowing he would have his darling to himself either way. You belonged to him, whether you were filled with another man’s load or not. “Sure, as long as you make sure my baby cums.” He sent a charming smile your way, bringing his hand up to caress your cheek, chuckling softly when you pressed a kiss to the side of his thumb, your lips making contact with the cold metal of his large skull ring. 

“Hear that, princess? Min wants me to have you,” Hongjoong purred into your ear from the other side. “And so do you, huh? Is that cunt of yours dripping already? I think we should have a litle peek...” Knowing all three of you would enjoy it, the guitarist snaked his hands around your waist from behind, lifting your skirt up for only Mingi to see, rubbing his rough fingers along your bare cunt.

“I-i heard,” you gasped, grasping at Mingi’s oversized sweater, your fingers going into one of the torn holes it had, leaning your head back against Hongjoong’s shoulder, trying not to make any noise when Mingi joined in, slipping two of his fingers into your pulsing cunt, the feeling of his rings stretching you out further making you jolt. 

“You know what I hear? How fucking wet you already are for us.” Hongjoong said into your ear, his digits rubbing roughly into your clit, his eyes on Mingi’s hooded ones, licking at his lips. “Your girlfriend is such a slut, Min. God, I love it.” 

“She loves it too,” Mingi replied in a gravelly voice,  stepping a little closer to cage you against Hongjoong, pushing the lollipop into your mouth to watch you suck on it. “But you still belong to me…Don’t you, baby?”

“Of course, Minnie. I’m only yours.” You nodded obediently up at him, crunching some of the lollipop in between your teeth when Mingi added another digit inside your tight hole, your thighs trembling slightly. 

“That’s my girl.” Your boyfriend gave you a pretty smile, pressing his hand against the wall near your head to further display his dominance over you, his eyes fixed on your submissive gaze, and the way you just let him fill you up with his thick fingers, his bandmate’s fingers still working you clit like he would would a six string. “Fuck…you’re so sexy like this, baby…” 

“Try not to blow your load before the show,” Hongjoong mused, his smirk growing more and more reminiscent of the Cheshire Cat’s. He was about to tease Mingi more when the previous band sang their last angsty lyric and shredded their remaining guitar notes, silence filling up the air for only a moment, before there was an immediate uproar of rowdy cheers and shouts from the pumped up crowd. 

Your boyfriend’s band was up next and you couldn’t wait to watch them from the sidelines, ready to catch their occasional hungry glances, knowing they were ready to tear you apart once they finished their heavy, energy filled set. 

Mingi delivered as usual, showing off his impressive duality, going from spitting quick, head-turning bars with a devilish smirk on his sweaty face, to expressing emotional, thought provoking lyrics with a soft, expressive voice that would have anyone shedding a tear, his face contorted in melancholic concentration, his hands wrapped tightly around his mic, his dominating stage presence alone having the entire venue in a chokehold throughout the entire set. 

Hongjoong arguably delivered just as well, consistently shredding notes on his sleek guitar with a borderline psychotic look in his eyes and a heinous grin that would make the Devil himself blush, working his rough, agile fingers song after heavy song, never failing to provide Mingi with his own unique back-up vocals. And just like clockwork, despite being a bit tipsy and high on some kind of illegal drug, Hongjoong captivated the large audience with his infamous guitar solo, making everybody in the crowd cream themselves with his nasty riffs. All Hongjoong could do after was push back his sweaty hair and send Mingi a shit-eating smirk, that was returned with a soft chuckle and head shake. He made sure to give you a look too, though this time he had his fingers held up in a V, his pierced tongue sticking out in between them. 

You were in for a busy night. 

࿏࿏࿏

“Hey, eyes on me, baby…” Hongjoong commanded in a low whisper from below you, sitting comfortably on his knees, using his thumbs to keep your cunt spread open for him, watching you writhe around against the wall of the spacious hotel shower, beads of water dripping through his damp bangs and past his smudged eyeliner, pooling in the crevices of his collar bone, the rest trickling down along his dangling necklaces. 

He had easily coaxed you inside his hotel room, not having to do much to get you in his shower, claiming he needed to cool down after giving it his all during the show — though he still made sure to give you his all during your own private show, using his calloused, dexterous fingers to play with your body, delighted with the pretty, wanton sounds he created, wanting nothing more than to write a song about how delicious you looked in that moment — flushed, transfixed on his pierced tongue lapping at your throbbing clit, and moaning out the little pet name you gave him. 

“That’s it….” The side of his lips quirked up a bit at the pout you gave him, before he pursed them and sent a wad of spit directly into you, pushing two fingers back inside you to rub it around your tight, pulsing walls. “I love when you look at me like that.”

“Like what, Joong?” you breathed out, running your fingers through his wet hair, gripping the sides of his head, your thighs beginning to feel like jelly from the way Hongjoong was finger-fucking you into ecstasy. 

“Like you want my cock,” he sighed, unable to keep himself from diving back into your cunt, lapping at your clit and slit like a pussydrunk maniac, easily slipping a third finger inside you. 

“I do…! I need your cock, Joongie, please,” you moaned out, so close to your high that you began to push his face into your cunt, rubbing it against his moving tongue, his piercing repeatedly catching on your clit, driving more pleasured moans out of you, neither of you aware in that moment that your dear perverted boyfriend sat on the other side of the wall, standing fully clothed in his own shower and jerking himself off with fervid desperation, his jeans hanging loosely around his jolting hips. 

“You’ll have it, baby, I promise. Cum on my tongue first,” he said with his lips against your soaked cunt, curling his fingers and rubbing at the gummy spot inside you, sending you over the edge, sticking his tongue out to catch your arousal on it, his cock throbbing at the sound of his name mixed with swears being cried out by his bandmate’s pretty girlfriend. 

Soon, you grew docile and dazed, wrapping your limbs around him as soon as he stood up and carried you over to his bed, not wasting any time sending a few drops of spit down onto your hot cunt and plugging it up with his thick cock. 

Mingi felt like he was going to melt, his brain and body going into overdrive over the fact that his beloved bandmate was busy putting a baby in his baby, making her feel so good she was starting to cry, his cock throbbing inside his closed fist, listening closely to the pants and moans that made their way into his pierced, attentive ears, along with the incessant creaking of the mattress springs — though the disruptive banging sounds of the wooden bedframe hitting the thin wall contended for Mingi’s attention as well. 

“Joong..! It’s so good, you’re so good,” he heard you whine out in a broken voice, not hearing the rest of your cries due to Hongjoong stuffing two fingers into your willing mouth. Mingi couldn’t help but want to drown in his sin, pulling his phone out of his back pocket. 

You looked to your phone with half-closed eyes, watching the way it buzzed against the moving mattress, your legs suddenly getting closer to your body, Hongjoong lifting your lower half up to fuck into you even deeper than before, rendering you speechless from the pressure of his heated body on yours. 

“Answer it, baby,” Hongjoong huffed from above you, his necklaces dragging along your flushed skin with each sloppy thrust, blowing a bit of wet hair out of his half-lidded eyes. 

“Mingi,” you sighed into the receiver, trying to catch your breath, knowing you were on the edge of ecstasy with the way your body was starting to feel heavy, despite the feeling like you were ready to float away. “I’m gonna cum, baby, it– aaah, oh my god…!”

“Cum for me, princess. Let me hear how pretty you sound cumming on his cock,” Mingi moaned back, squeezing his hand around his length, his eyes ready to roll underneath his eyelids. 

Hongjoong put his entire body weight onto you, his lips sliding across your neck to leave a few marks, his cock throbbing against your tight inner walls, pounding into you a few more times before he painted them white. “M’ cumming inside your girl, Minnie, it’s feel so fucking good…”

It was when Hongjoong bit down onto your neck that you catapulted over the edge, grabbing at the guitarist’s bare back, digging your nails into his skin. “Mingiii, he’s filling me up…it won’t stop…”

“Oh god, baby, oh my god.” Mingi huffed and huffed, his entire body tensing up as he drove himself over the edge right after you, splashes of cum landing on his rapidly rising chest and abdomen. 

You simply laid there making small squeaks from the aftershocks of your orgasm, while Hongjoong stayed put inside you, his soft, deflated cock suddenly twitching with newfound interest, a light bulb appearing inside his hazy brain. “Min, I want you to come over here. You need to see the mess I made inside your girlfriend…”

And just like that, Mingi made his way over to the next door hotel room, fumbling with his loose pants and the doorknob, wiggling till it unlocked. He kicked his jeans off once inside the half-lit room, climbing onto the bed to join the both of you, having the same intensely horny, almost deranged look in his eye that he usually had before a show. 

“Baby, look,” you sighed out, spreading your thighs open, while Hongjoong pulled out inch by inch, until a flood of creamy white liquid bubbled out of your pulsing hole, dripping down your thighs and onto the already damp mattress below. 

Before Mingi could properly access the arousing situation, drool falling from his moaning mouth, Hongjoong suddenly grabbed him by the hair, pushing his head down in between your legs. “You wanna clean it up, don’t you, Minnie? Come on, be a good boy and lick up the mess I left inside her.” 

Blushing, Mingi lapped at the mess of cum and slick, using his fingers to scoop the rest out into his eager mouth, Hongjoong’s hand still pressing his face further into your used cunt, eventually letting go when he started to go at it, watching his bandmate’s tongue swipe at your clit and slit. Mingi didn’t even seem to notice, too busy drowning in his baby’s sweet cunt to have any awareness, his hands clutching your trembling thighs. 

“Gonna cum again,” you whined out, unable to speak when your boyfriend suddenly lifted his fingers up to your mouth to suck on them, his lips sucking around your sensitive clit, his dark, glazed over eyes focused solely on the way you seemed to completely fall apart in front of his and his best friend. 

“Think you can get her to squirt?” Hongjoong asked from beside him, resting one of his hands on your moving thighs, holding it down so that you couldn’t close them. 

Mingi glanced over at Hongjoong, rolling his mascara-smudged eyes, knowing exactly what to do to make his baby feel so good she sobbed. He pulled his fingers out of your mouth, instead pushing three of them inside you, curling them up until you cried out. With his other hand, he forcefully pushed Hongjoong’s head down onto your cunt next. “Lick,” he commanded gruffly, concentrating solely on fucking you into ecstasy with his thick fingers. 

Moaning against your cunt, Hongjoong lapped and nibbled on your throbbing clit, his cold piercing dragging over your sensitive flesh, feeling his bandmate’s fingers tugging at his hair, eliciting another muffled moan from him. 

“Bite it. Bite her clit and make her cum,” Mingi demanded through gritted teeth, working your cunt like he always did, enjoying the sight of you writhing around, unable to speak or think, knowing his pretty baby was experiencing some of the best pleasure of her life thanks to him and his friend. 

It was when Hongjoong bit down and moved your clit in between his teeth, Mingi’s fingers still moving relentlessly inside your clenching cunt, that you screamed, your boyfriend’s slick-covered fingers going back into your mouth to keep you from waking up everyone else in the hotel. Both bandmates watched as a small fountain of liquid squirted from your pulsing cunt, seeping into the mattress and turning it dark. 

A few moments of silence went by, before Hongjoong gave Mingi a sickening smile. “Bet you can’t get her to do that with your cock.” 

Mingi shook his head, blowing his wet bangs out of his eyes. “Of course I can. She’s my baby. I know her body like the back of my hand. I’ll make her drench the both of us.”

Hongjoong giggled softly, tilting his head to the side, his eyes flitting from you to Mingi. “Wanna make a bet?” 

You were definitely in for a long night. 

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© kitten4sannie, 2024.

[swiftiethatlovesf1]

A race for love p.1

Hii guys! I've had this idea on my mind for a while, and with today's exciting announcement of Franco joining F1, I couldn't think of a better moment to finally put it into words. On the flip side, my heart goes out to Logan. It's heartbreaking to see how he's been treated, and I truly wish him all the best moving forward.

Barcelona June of 2023

When people find out you're Zak Brown's daughter, they automatically assume your life is filled with glitz and glamour. They think you're friends with all the drivers, jet-setting to every race, and living a perfect life surrounded by the thrill of Formula 1. From the outside, it seems like you've got it all — but the reality is a lot different.

You can't really complain, but your life is far from perfect. Most of the time, you don’t even see your dad because he’s constantly travelling with the team. The rare moments you do get to see him are usually fleeting, sandwiched between his hectic schedule. You’d love to go to more races, but this year you had to focus on finishing high school with the best grades possible. Getting into aerospace engineering was your dream, and it demanded every ounce of your attention and effort.

And then there are the misconceptions about your social life. People assume you have a wide circle of friends, thanks to your dad’s connections, but the truth is quite the opposite. You have a small group of close friends, and that’s more than enough for you. You're naturally shy and have learned to be cautious about who you let into your life. Trust doesn’t come easily when you constantly worry that people might want to get close to you just to get a taste of the paddock lifestyle. It's a burden you've had to carry, learning to guard your heart and keep your circle tight.

Now that you’ve graduated from high school, a weight lifts off your shoulders. Your hard work has paid off, and you finally have the chance to reconnect with your dad and spend some time in the world that has always been on the periphery of your life. As you arrive at the paddock to visit him and the McLaren team, a mix of excitement and nervousness bubbles up inside you. The hum of engines and the bustling energy are both familiar and foreign, and you find yourself wondering what this day will bring. With each step, you try to steady your breath, eager for what’s to come.

You’re so wrapped up in your own world that you don’t notice the boy on the scooter coming straight toward you.

Before you can react, there’s a sudden jolt as he bumps into you, knocking you off balance. You stumble slightly, but neither of you falls, just barely managing to steady yourself as you blink in surprise.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” the boy says quickly, hopping off his scooter and reaching out a hand. “Are you okay?”

You’re too stunned to reply immediately. Your heart races, more from shock than from the slight impact. As you regain your bearings, you finally look at him. He’s about your age, with tousled brown hair that falls slightly over his forehead and warm brown eyes that are looking at you with genuine concern. He’s wearing a bright red uniform that you recognize as belonging to either Prema Racing or Ferrari’s junior program, but you don’t recognize him as a Formula 1 driver.

“Uh, yeah, I’m fine,” you manage to say awkwardly, your voice a little shaky. “I was just… distracted.”

He lets out a sigh of relief, a smile breaking through his worried expression. “Good, I was worried I’d completely knocked you over. You were kind of in a world of your own there.���

You feel your cheeks heat up a bit. “Yeah, sorry about that. I guess I’m just… overwhelmed by everything here.”

He chuckles softly, his eyes still studying you with curiosity. “I get it. It can be a lot, especially if you’re not used to it. Are you here for the race?”

You nod, trying to find your words as his gaze makes you feel even more flustered. “Sort of. I’m visiting my dad, actually. He works with McLaren.”

His eyebrows raise slightly in surprise, and a look of realization crosses his face. “Ah, that’s cool! McLaren’s got a great setup here.”

You nod again, feeling a bit more self-conscious under his friendly but inquisitive gaze. “Yeah, they do. I’m just here to see him and, you know, check out the paddock.”

“Well, welcome to the chaos!” he says, flashing you a quick grin. “I’m really sorry again about almost running you over. I’ve got to get going, but maybe I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah, maybe,” you say, still feeling a bit flustered but starting to relax as his easygoing nature puts you at ease.

With a quick wave, he jumps back on his scooter and speeds off, disappearing into the crowd. You watch him go, a small smile tugging at your lips as you shake your head, still a bit dazed by the encounter. The day is already turning out to be more interesting than you expected.

As the weekend goes by, you have an amazing time with your dad, the engineers, and the drivers, Lando and Oscar. It’s everything you could have wished for: laughter, excitement, and a glimpse into the world you’ve always been curious about. The hours fly by as you get to see behind the scenes, experience the high energy of the pit lane, and even share some inside jokes with the team. Yet, in the back of your mind, you can’t help but think about the boy you met on the first day — the one with the warm smile and the kind eyes.

By the last day of the race weekend, you realize you’re still thinking about him. Curiosity gets the best of you, and you decide to sneak out of the F1 paddock and venture into the F2 and F3 paddocks in search of the boy. It proves to be more challenging than you anticipated; the paddocks are bustling with activity, and you have no idea who he is or even which team he’s with.

As you wander around, you stop here and there to watch the cars and people working. The atmosphere is different from the F1 paddock — more relaxed, but still full of intensity and focus. One car, in particular, catches your eye. It’s a sleek F3 car with bold graphics, and you find yourself drawn to it. You step a little closer, noticing the intricate details on the bodywork and the way the team is adjusting the front wing. You’ve always been interested in engineering, and seeing the mechanics in action up close fascinates you.

You’re so engrossed that you don’t notice when someone approaches from behind.

“Hey there,” a voice says, startling you. You jump slightly and spin around, your heart racing as you come face-to-face with another boy, about your age. He has dark hair and bright eyes, and he’s grinning at you with a playful expression.

“Oh! I—uh, I’m sorry,” you stammer, suddenly feeling nervous. “I didn’t mean to— I wasn’t doing anything, I promise!”

He laughs, holding up his hands as if to calm you down. “Whoa, it’s okay! You’re not in trouble. Just surprised to see someone so interested in my car.”

You blink, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “Oh, this is your car?”

“Yep, my pride and joy,” he says with a wink. “Franco Colapinto, at your service. I drive for MP Motorsport in F3.” He leans against the car casually, still smiling at you.

You can’t help but smile back, his easygoing nature putting you at ease. “I’m sorry, I just— I didn’t mean to stare or anything. I’m just really interested in how these cars work. They’re amazing.”

“Don’t apologize,” Franco says, his tone light and teasing. “I think it’s great. Most people just walk by and don’t even notice the cars unless they’re on track. It’s nice to see someone appreciate them up close.”

You nod, feeling a little more confident now. “Yeah, I guess I just got caught up in it all. I’m visiting with my dad, and I thought I’d take a look around.”

“Glad you did,” he replies, giving you a playful nudge. “So, what brings you over to the F3 side? Looking for anyone in particular?”

You hesitate, not wanting to seem too eager, but his friendly demeanor encourages you to open up a bit. “Actually, I met someone on the first day. A boy on a scooter. I don’t know his name or what team he’s with, but I thought maybe I’d see him again.”

Franco raises an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. “A boy on a scooter, huh? I’m not sure who you’re looking for, but I hope you find him.”

“Thanks,” you say softly, feeling a bit shy under his teasing gaze. “It’s probably silly, I know.”

“Not at all,” he says, his tone warm. “It’s not every day you meet someone who leaves an impression. Besides, I think it’s kind of cute.”

You feel your cheeks heat up again, but you manage a smile. “Well, thanks. And thanks for not kicking me out for looking at your car.”

Franco laughs. “Hey, any time. It’s not every day someone appreciates my car as much as I do. Tell you what, if you ever want a tour, just let me know.”

“That sounds fun,” you say, genuinely intrigued. “Maybe I’ll take you up on that.”

“I hope you do,” he says, and there’s something genuine in his voice that makes you feel a little flutter in your chest. “Hey, before you go, can I get your number? You know, just in case you need a guide around here or want to talk more about cars.”

You smile, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement. “Sure, why not?” You take out your phone and exchange numbers, his fingers brushing yours slightly as he hands your phone back, making your heart skip a beat.

“Great,” he says with a grin. “I’ll text you later. Maybe I can help you find that mystery boy.”

“Maybe,” you reply with a laugh. “But I should get back to my dad before he starts wondering where I am.”

“Alright, but don’t be a stranger,” Franco says, giving you a friendly wave as you start to walk away.

“See you around, Franco,” you say, feeling lighter and happier than you have all weekend. As you make your way back to the F1 paddock, you can’t help but smile, your thoughts filled with the unexpected new friend you’ve just made.

[houseofanticipation]

You're sitting with your friend Sam at a coffee shop, catching up. She's telling you about an instagram ad she keeps getting for some audiobook streaming service. "It's just crazy," she says, "because I was just telling Lucille I wanted to start reading more books but I never have the time, and then it's like instantly I'm getting these ads all the time."

"So what," you say over your steaming mug, "you think they're listening to you?"

Sam shakes her head. "Honestly I think it's almost scarier than that. They have so much information about us, they don't even need to listen to our conversations. They just know, based on everything they've gathered about me, that I'm probably someone who wants to listen to audiobooks."

"Well they can't be that smart," you say. "Because the only ads I've been getting lately are for something called Slut Cream."

Sam raises an eyebrow. "You must know I'm going to need more details."

You take out your phone and find an ad to show her. It's not difficult; literally all of the ads you see on instagram are like this. They're even showing up in other places now, on webpages you visit or apps you use. This one is one you've seen before: a beautiful woman in a crop top that just barely covers her nipples is proudly displaying a squeeze tube of the kind you'd buy sunscreen or toothpaste in. The caption says, "Being a slut isn't a hobby—it's a lifestyle! Step up your slut game with Slut Cream! Shop Now"

"I don't even know what slut cream is," you say. "All you get when you look it up is a bunch of porn."

"Well, obviously it's a way to step up your slut game," says Sam sagely. "What does it say on the website?"

"Oh, I'm not clicking the link," you say. "I don't want to encourage them! What I want to know is why suddenly this ad is all I can seem to see!"

Sam shoots you a wink. "Maybe you're just a slut. These data brokers know us better than we know ourselves."'

What neither of you know is that it's actually quite easy to buy online ad space, and they let you get pretty specific with your intended audience.

I live in the next apartment over from you. I've been watching you for a long time, studying you, listening to you through our shared wall. We've talked a few times, some terse conversation at the mailboxes or in the hall, which is how I knew enough about you to place those ads, with audience parameters so specific that probably only you and about five other people would see them. I had fun making them; hiring the model to do the photoshoot, dusting off the skills I picked up in that college graphic design course, creating a website for this fake business (though I'm disappointed you still haven't clicked through to see it). If you actually tried to buy slut cream, the website would tell you we're currently closed due to high traffic, and to check back later. Nowhere on the website does it explain what slut cream is.

A number of strange things happen to you over the course of the following day. On your lunch break you walk down the block to the deli by your office. You're in here every weekday, but today the energy here is different. People are staring you, side-eyeing you, having whispered conversations that stop abruptly when you get too close. As you're walking back to work, an old woman spits on the ground as you pass, you'd swear you heard the word "whore!" hissed under her breath. You wonder if you should say something, stand up for yourself, but she's elderly, probably confused, and you decide to be the bigger person.

In the hours after lunch, you're propositioned by no less than seven of your male coworkers. You've had to refuse a few invitations to dinner in your time, but seven in a day is completely out of the ordinary, and the things these men are offering to do to you go way outside the bounds of first date stuff. One guy tells you the conference room is empty, if you want to go for a quick fuck; another guy tells you he hasn't cum in a month, and if you sucked his cock he'd pump so much cum down your throat that you wouldn't need to eat dinner. Your boss even tells you he and his wife are looking for a third and he thought of you first, like he's offering you a big promotion. The strangest thing is that all of these men seem genuinely surprised when you turn them down. Like this sort of thing usually works with girls. One guy even says, "sorry, I was just trying to help."

It was pretty easy to hire actors for the deli and the street. You go to the same place every day, so I knew where they'd have to go and roughly when they'd need to be there. The harder part was getting your coworkers to play along, especially because I was picky about getting people who could sell the act. For a few of them all it took was money. A few of them I had to blackmail. For your boss I had to call in a favor, get his boss to threaten his job. He protested, but I think it made his cock hard, thinking about fucking you alongside his wife.

I keep this up for a few weeks. Anywhere you go I have people watching you, talking about you behind your back. I have people approaching you on the train, at the park, in restaurants, offering to fuck you like they're doing you a favor. You stay firm in your refusal—I wouldn't have expected any less from you—but I can tell it's beginning to eat at you. I watch you try to figure out what you're doing that seems to give all these people the wrong idea about you; you start to dress more modestly, talk less, even walk a little less confidently. But none of this will change anything. All it will do is make you feel more repressed.

After a month, I decide it's time to make my move. I could probably wait longer, but the anticipation is getting too much for me, and besides, you're beginning to get a little wild around the eyes. I'd hate to break you before I've had my fun. One evening, when I know you're home, I unlock your apartment with the duplicate key I had made two months ago. You're in the kitchen, washing dishes with headphones on; you didn't hear me come in. I leave the door open as I approach you, admiring the way you shake your ass to whatever it is you're listening to. I get right up behind you and stay there for a moment, lavishing in your innocence, feeling my cock strain at my belt as I imagine taking it away from you. Then I reach around front of you with both arms and plunge my hand into your panties

You shout in shock, fight back, try to push me off as the headphones fall off your head. But I've got you pinned against the counter, my full body weight against you, one hand down your pants, the other groping your breasts. Once you realize that fighting won't help, you stop struggling and ask me what I want. "Please," you say. Just hearing that quiver in your voice almost makes me delirious with lust. "Please, let me go. I don't want this, please."

I bury my face in your neck, kissing and breathing you in. You smell incredible, like fear and sweat and sex. I bring my lips up to your ear, let them brush against you as I speak. "Of course you want this, baby. You've been trying so hard to hide it, but you don't have to hide with me. Look, you left the door open for me." I let you turn your head enough to see the door hanging open just as my fingers find your clit. I'm rubbing you gently, tenderly, just the way I've watched you touch yourself through the webcam I have in your room. My other hand is under your shirt now and I'm squeezing your breast, rolling your nipple between my fingers, feeling it slowly grow full and erect. You try to stifle a soft moan and I kiss your neck again. "It's okay, baby. You don't have to be ashamed. It's okay to want to feel good. Let me make you feel good."

You clutch your face in your hands and let out a cry of frustration and humiliation and agony and pleasure. You barely know me; I'm the guy next door who sometimes looks at you a little too long. The guy you speed up to avoid in the hall. But that feeling radiating from you clit... You think how exhausting it's been, doing everything you could think of to change people's perception of you, get them to stop looking at you as a slut, how none of it has done you any good anyway. You wonder if you'd have had more fun fucking Jim in the conference room, or swallowing Dylan's cum, or having a threesome with your boss and his wife. And that throbbing in your clit, the agonizing pleasure...You remember that beautiful woman in the ad: "Being a slut isn't a hobby—it's a lifestyle!" You think about how happy she looked, how fulfilled. You remember Sam's words: "These data brokers know us better than we know ourselves."

It does feel good, doesn't it? To let me touch you, pleasure you, to let go of this act you've been holding on to. Isn't it okay to want to feel good? Why did you ever let anyone make you ashamed of that? You try out another moan, letting the pleasure well up through your chest and out your mouth. It feels good, so you try another, and another, and then you're leaning back into me, grinding up against me, delighting in the feeling of my hard cock against your ass.

"Good," I say. "You're letting go of those silly hang-ups. Now we can have our real fun." My hands still around you, controlling you, I half lead-half carry your trembling body to the bedroom. I throw you on the bed, face up so I can get a good look at your eyes, see what I've done to your mind. Those same eyes that have avoided me in the hall so many times now gaze hungrily up at me, wanting me, needing me.

Who am I do decline?

I pull off your pants and panties as a single unit, letting you take care of your shirt for yourself. I kick of my own bottoms, letting my throbbing cock slap against your leg as it springs from its confinement. Don't think I don't notice the way your whole body shivers when it touches you. I lift your legs and push your knees up towards your ears; you're remarkably flexible. It must be all that yoga I've watched you do at the place downtown. I've greatly enjoyed your visits to that place, so it's nice to see they weren't in vain.

You're afraid of me, all of a sudden. Maybe some part of you is seeing sense, realizing you'd have to be crazy to let a guy like me come into your home and fuck you like this. But what was the alternative? Have me rape you? Let me tell you, darling: I would have raped you. You feel the head of my cock gliding over your skin, exploring your inner thighs and pubic area, and tremble at my touch. I want this, you tell yourself. This is what a slut like me needs.

All the same, you cry a little bit when I penetrate you. It's not because it hurts—it does hurt a bit, but you're wet enough, and it's not entirely a bad pain. It's not because you're afraid—well, maybe in part, but that's not the core of it. You cry because you're finally letting go. Letting go of the person you used to be, or thought you were. It's the relief of knowing you don't have to pretend anymore, wrapped up with the mourning you feel when you lose a potential version of yourself. I lean across you as my cock fills you up, and tenderly, I kiss away your tears. "Hush, my darling. I'm here. I will always be here. I will love you despite what you are, when everyone else turns away in disgust."

My weight on you feels good, comforting. The way I press down on your legs, stretching you out, driving my cock so deep inside you that it brushes your cervix. It hurts a little, but is that any better than you deserve? Could a slut like you really expect to find better than this? Better than unconditional love and a desire to give you the pleasure you need?

I'm speeding up now, my face something like an animal, furious and insistent as I gaze down at you. There's darkness behind my eyes, you think, something cold and cruel. You thank God I'm on your side. My hips are like a hammer on your pelvis now, and with each thrust you feel my cock bulging inside you, throbbing and pulsating with anticipation. When I finally plant my seed in you, groaning and growling and pressing you further into the bed, you find there's something comforting about the warmth of my cum inside you. Maybe my seed will take root, make you swell up with me, make you mine. As I roll off you, huffing and panting, the tears begin to stream down your face again, this time from joy.

What did a slut like you ever do to deserve someone who loves you like I do?

[televisionlassie]

I feel like people don’t realize how jarring it probably for all of Bruce’s kids to be adopted.

There’s this strange idea the adoption is “saving” a kid, and I get how in some ways this can be true for people but imagine being the kid. You’re taken away from everything you’ve ever known and sent with some person, you barely know. That can be traumatizing. Adopted children (even if they are adopted by a good family) are at a much higher risk of mental health issues and developing learning disabilities.

Now imagine this for each of Bruce’s children.

Dick grew up in a traveling circus, he was used to never staying in one place for long. He was surrounded by many different families and cultures. He went from living like that to juvie. And even after he moved in with Bruce it’s still completely different from living in the circus.

Cass was treated like she was a weapon. She wasn’t a human to people. When she was adopted her whole perspective on her life and being human was changed, and she just had to adjust because no one could understand that.

Jason was literally a street kid. I think he’s the easiest to say Bruce “saved” but it is still a HUGE. difference in lifestyle. He went from fending for himself, never relying on anyone and having to steal just to feed himself, to living in a place that is quite literally the complete opposite of that.

The thing about Tim is there is a weird misconception that he was like horribly neglected, and he was sort of, but his parents loved him. He definitely had a good childhood. I hate to say one of them would have it easier because I don’t think any of their situations were easy, but Tim definitely had it easier to adjust. Doesn’t mean it’s still not shocking to have to get used to a completely new family dynamic.

Duke had a loving family. He might not have been rich but he had a family that he loves and grew up with. The worst part about his situation is that his parents are still alive but they can’t take care of him anymore. He has to live with a new family and treat them like that while knowing his real family is still alive and there’s nothing he can do to go back to the way it was.

Damian literally grew up in the fucking league of assassins, he was treated like a prince but also a weapon. He had to go from everyone treating him like a prince and that he’s above them or like a pet to be trained by his grandfather to being treated like any other person. He wasn’t given special treatment and favoritism by his new family and had to get used to that.

This isn’t even mentioning the culture shock Dick, Cass, Duke, and Damian would’ve experienced. I like to believe Bruce would’ve been a good enough parent to learn about their cultures but it’s different coming from a man who had no personal connections to your culture.

Anyway I just felt like ranting about this.

[goldenseresinretriever]

False Confidence: Chapter 3

Pairing: Javy “Coyote” Machado x Reader

Part of the San Diego Dogfighters universe

Summary: The Athletic named Javy Machado the fifth sluttiest player in the NHL last year. He’s a known playboy who leaves every game with a different girl. As far as he’s concerned he’s living the dream, playing his dream job with the dream lifestyle. Unfortunately his friends and bosses don’t agree. At 33, they think it’s time for him to settle down. You’re a kindergarten teacher at an esteemed private school. You don't expect much when you finally accept your colleague’s invitation to attend her husband’s hockey game but when you accidentally get separated in the post-game rush, you find yourself in a compromising situation with the last person you’d ever expected to meet. When his PR rep suggests a mutually beneficial agreement, your hands are tied. How long will you have to keep up the act? And how long will you be able to?

Series CW: 18+ ONLY, swearing, angst, fluff, fake relationship, suggestive language, anxiety, school system inaccuracies, hockey inaccuracies etc. There will be individual chapter warnings. No use of Y/N.

Word Count: 3.6k

A/N: This is a repost from my series, False Confidence. It was originally posted in March 2023, and was lost when my blog was deleted.

Previous Chapter // Series Masterlist // Next Chapter

You feel the butterflies that have finally settled in your stomach flutter to life again, a jumbled mess as your breath catches. You know it makes sense. His simple request. You’re the one who said you were out of practice. And he’s right, the media caught you with his tongue down your throat. Their not going to be fooled by chaste kisses on the cheek and pecks on the lips. You need to get comfortable around Javy, and while you hadn’t come here with the intention of kissing him tonight, the sooner you rip off the bandaid, the better. “Okay,” you say and you hate how small your voice sounds. Javy gives you a mysterious smile as he leans in. Your heart beats quicker the closer he gets, and your eyes flick down to those full lips of his and you’re so fixated on them that you don’t realize that he’s stopped. When you realize that his lips haven’t moved in quite a while your eyes flick up to his deep brown ones and your cheeks heat at the intensity of his gaze. “What?” You sputter as you do your best not to pull away from his closeness. Your hands are trembling and you can feel discomfort settling in your bones. He leans in closer suddenly, lips barely a breath from yours and his nose brushes yours and you let out an indignant squeak, jumping slightly.

“Relax, Meep.” His voice takes on a lower timbre and you feel a shiver run down your back.

“Meep?” You squeak and he chuckles. You feel the vibration of the air on your lips. He reaches a hand up then, making sure to hold it in front of your gaze for a solid five seconds so you process it before he runs a knuckle across your cheek.

“My overexcited little roadrunner,” he muses. “Always squeaking.” Your brow furrows as you realize what he’s referring to.

“You’d be squeaking if you were surprised too.” You stutter out, irritation seeping into your tone even as anxiety continues to claw at your heart from his closeness.

“Oh, would I?” He asks, quirking an eyebrow playfully and then just as you’re choosing your next words carefully, he closes the gap and presses his lips to yours.

The first time you’d ever been kissed you were in the bed of Andrew St. James’s truck. You’d felt completely alone even with dozens of cars and trucks parked around you. The movie playing up on the giant screen was background noise as Andrew’s lips pressed against yours. Your lips were slightly parted in surprised pleasure. It had all felt so surreal, being curled against him as you experienced a first that you’d awaited giddily your entire life. Even in your wildest dreams you’d never imagined that it could be like that. Even when Andrew had invited you to the movie, butterflies fluttered in your stomach at the idea. Even when you’d nervously picked out the soft yellow sundress that you knew you’d get chilly in with the cool spring evening air, dancing through your bedroom full of whimsy and hope.

Javy tastes like blueberries. The tartness of the berries scattered through the loaf that the two of you had just indulged in making your lips tingle as he eases you into the kiss. This kiss was different from yesterday. While yesterday’s kiss had been hungry and desperate, this one was soft, delicate, and simple. A press of lips against lips and you can almost smell the rust and grass from your first kiss. It’s sweet, and you almost convince yourself that it’s real but the tart taste keeps you grounded in bittersweet reality. When he pulls away, he studies your face curiously and you struggle not to squirm under the intensity of his gaze. He leans in before you can react and kisses you again. You start, surprised and he’s pulling away before you can adjust to the feeling. You scowl at him and he chuckles.

“What was that for?”

“You need to not tense up so much when I kiss you. Right now you’re practically jumping out of your skin, Meep.” You feel your lips pout even as you know that he’s right but you can’t focus on that when he dips his head to kiss the pout on your lips. You’re expecting it this time and you barely tense under the quick touch. “Good girl,” Javy praises you as he pulls away again, pressing a quick peck to your cheek and you jolt, surprised by the change in direction. He gives you a look of faux disappointment. “Come on Roadie, loosen up for me.” You feel your cheeks heating rapidly under his constant attention and the anticipation of the next kiss. You’re not expecting when he reaches a hand up and cups your cheek and then your cheeks are heating even more in embarrassment at the realization that he can probably feel their heat. He stokes the apple of your cheek with a calloused thumb and you shiver involuntarily. “I told you Roadie, I’m not gonna hurt you, sweetheart.”

“Prove it.” You’re as surprised as he is by the bite in your words, but the proximity and flurry of kisses have your brain in a tizzy. You’re overstimulated and exhausted and you don’t have the energy for Javy’s antics right now. His eyes widen before he sits back, his hand falling away from your face and you take a shaky breath as your heart rate tries its best to settle. His expression is unreadable as he nods.

“You’re right.” His gaze is steely as it meets yours. “I will.” Like it’s that simple. You’re too tired to push him so you just nod back.

“We need rules,” you hate how tired your voice sounds and you reach for your glass of water, sipping and hoping the cool liquid will give you the energy that you need. “If this is going to work, we need to be on the same page about what’s okay and what’s not.” Javy nods again, eyes calm and earnest.

“That’s good with me, what did you have in mind?” He asks and you fiddle with the hem of your shirt as you think.

“No sex.” You say after a moment, words firm so he knows you’re serious.

“No sex, got it, Roadie.” You nod absently as you think harder.

“I need at least a week’s notice if you need me to come to an event, whether that’s a game or something else. My job will always come first. I’m not missing school for this, I’m not leaving my kids out to dry.” He nods again.

“That’s only fair. I’ll talk to Zam and work out a schedule of some kind and get that to you as soon as possible.

“Next, if I’m going to be coming to your events, I need you to come to some of mine.” You’re nervous about asking this but Josie’s voice in your head reminds you that this is supposed to be mutually beneficial.

“It’s only fair,” he says casually. “As long as I’m in town, I’ll be there. You can get me a schedule too, but just give me a basic idea now if you can.”

You think for a long moment before you answer. “You need to make a few appearances at the school to really sell it to the administration. There’s a faculty banquet in April. If you’re here, you’d probably be expected to attend.”

“Consider it done.” He says easily. Something else is itching at the back of your mind so you steel yourself and ask before you lose your nerve.

“Career day,” you sputter and Javy arches an eyebrow at you and you clear your throat. “It’s not a requirement per se but I think the kids would really enjoy meeting a real hockey player.” His eyes soften and you give him a shy smile.

“Yeah, Roadie, I’d love to come to Career Day.” He smiles back as you relax in relief. He waits for you to continue but you’re drawing a blank as to what comes next so he speaks up. “You need to figure out how to relax around me. If there’s something I can do to help, I will, but it’s going to come down to you.” You nod, embarrassment sending heat to your cheeks.

“I know it’s not always going to be possible, but if you could ask or give me a heads up when you’re going to kiss me, that might help?” You say after a long moment. He considers your words thoughtfully.

“What if we had a signal?” He asks and your brow furrows.

“What kind of signal?” You ask warily. He reaches out a hand for yours and you tentatively surrender one. He takes it in his absurdly warm palm, and then he brushes two fingers over the inside of your wrist before tapping three times.

“How’s that?” He asks. You glance down at your linked hands. It’s subtle enough. It could work. You nod, slowly and Javy smiles.

“Yeah, that could work.” You whisper and he releases your hand. You study your hand when it comes back to your lap like you’ll see some kind of mark of his touch. Like a piece of him will linger.

“One last thing,” he says and you look up from your lap and he waggles his eyebrows playfully. “You’re not allowed to fall in love with me.” You barely suppress a derisive snort as you scowl at him. It just makes him laugh and the sound takes your breath away. If his smile is the sun, his laugh is its rays. You feel your nerves melt away as the sound fills your ears and spreads warmth throughout your body from head to toe. He pauses his laughing to fix you with a firm look even as his eyes dance with mirth. “I mean it, Roadie, no falling in love with me.” You roll your eyes.

“You don’t have to worry about that.” You won’t be the fool twice. You know better this time.

***

The next morning as you’re walking into school when your phone buzzes and you open it to see a message from Big Sexy ;), “I know you’ll probably be teaching so you can’t watch, but just so you know, the press conference is at 8 this morning. Speak now or forever hold your peace.” He’s giving you an out. While you appreciate it, you didn’t let him kiss you in his kitchen to lose your nerve now and you type back a quick negative response before steeling yourself and making a beeline for your classroom. You don’t feel like fielding Jeremy’s questions before the press conference. You’ll let someone else control the narrative. You’ve settled in and you’re going over your lesson plan when Josie knocks on the edge of your doorway and you look up, waving her in. She perches on the edge of her desk, studying your expression carefully.

“Reuben said they're holding the press conference this morning. How are you feeling?” You shrug.

“He’s not my real boyfriend. I don’t really feel anything.” Josie gives you a skeptical look.

“You know Jeremy and the others are going to start hounding you the second they find out, don’t you?” You sigh, then, taking a moment to take a long sip from your coffee mug.

“If they hound me that means they buy the story and that’s what we want, right? Sure, I’m not exactly looking forward to it, but there’s not much you can do to disprove an official statement from one of the parties, especially the one with everything to lose.” Josie regards you skeptically and you know she doesn’t buy your cool as she leaves the classroom and while you’re more nervous than ever you can’t focus on that right now. Any minute your students will be arriving and you need to be ready for them. They need you right now.

***

By the time lunch rolls around you’ve forgotten all about the press conference so when you step into the teacher’s lounge and Jeremy automatically calls out to you, you’re taken by surprise.

“Damn Roadie, you’re just full of surprises aren’t you?” You turn to see a smirk pulling at his lips as he regards you. “How on earth did you manage to land yourself a big bad NHL player boyfriend?” You ignore the subtle dig in his words as you struggle to clear your mind. You’d gone over your cover story with Javy last night until you were almost convinced it was true yourself. You take a breath to center yourself before you answer Jeremy.

“We met at Thanksgiving, I went with Josie to the Dogfighters’ Thanksgiving dinner.”

“That right, Josie?” You turn to see Josie standing just inside the doorway, a cool look on her face.

“Yeah, friends and family were invited so I invited Roadie since she didn’t have anywhere else to go.” You wince at her words. That part of the story is true. Josie HAD invited you except you’d turned her down and had spent the holiday curled up on your couch watching old movies and eating spaghetti and turkey meatballs followed by ice cream straight from the carton. In hindsight, you’re glad you hadn’t gone since Josie had arrived back at school on Monday recounting the chaos that had ensued at the event. None of your colleagues knew that, however. “Oh hey, this is a pleasant surprise.” You’re jerked out of your thoughts and you turn back to Josie as Javy appears in the doorway, carrying a bouquet of flowers and a takeout bag. You do your best to school your expression of surprise at the unexpected visit. You’re sure some of it seems believable enough, though as you unglue your feet from the floor and cross over to where Josie’s ushering Javy into the teacher’s lounge as the other teachers gape. You shuffle over to him, a nervous smile plastered on your face. You will your voice not to shake as you greet him.

“Javy! I didn’t know you were coming by today?” You hide your wince at the light accusation in your tone and try to compensate by carefully pushing up slightly on your toes to press a kiss to his cheek. The gesture feels strange and his skin is warm under your lips. The skin pulls under your touch as Javy smiles and when you pull away you see the mirth dancing in his eyes as leans down to reciprocate the action, smooth lips pressing to your heated cheeks.

“Hey beautiful, thought I’d come by and surprise you.” You try to ignore the way your stomach flutters at the term of endearment as it falls easily from his tongue. “I thought we could have lunch together?” He holds up the paper bag in his hand and you nod, trying to make your earnestness to escape the prying eyes of your colleagues seem lovestruck in nature.

“Sure, baby.” The word feels strange and foreign in your tongue and you have to hold back from grimacing in discomfort. “We can eat in my classroom,” you nod towards the hallway and Javy takes your lead. Once you’re in the empty hallway, the kids all herded into the lunchroom for the next hour, you glance at him to see him grinning at you. You roll your eyes and lead him to your classroom. You hold the door for him as he enters before leading him to your desk. You realize quickly that yours is the only adult-sized chair in the room but Javy seems unfazed as he sets the flowers and bag on your desk and snags one of the tiny chairs from the nearest cluster of desks. You don’t manage to stifle your giggle as he folds his giant body into the tiny chair and his eyebrows raise, the corners of his mouth crinkling at your reaction. You feel your cheeks heat as you take your seat across the desk from him. He’s tall enough that he manages to reach the height of your desk well enough and he starts to unpack the paper bag, the smell of Thai food hitting your nostrils.

“So…” he says as he passes you a foil-wrapped packet that smells simply heavenly, “how’s your morning been, BABY.” He smirks and your cheeks heat even more as you duck your head to escape the humor dancing in his eyes.

“I panicked, okay.” You sputter as you focus on keeping the noodles in the foil from spilling across your desk as you break the chopsticks that Javy passes to you. He chuckles.

“Well practice makes perfect, I guess.” He digs into his food and the two of you eat in silence for a moment before you can’t hold your question in, anymore.

“What are you doing here?” You ask and hate how blunt it sounds.

Javy raises an eyebrow at you as he finishes chewing. “I figured after this morning’s announcement, there would be damage control to do, so I figured I’d get ahead of it. What better way to sell a fake relationship than to bring my girlfriend lunch?” He shrugs. “Plus I figured you could use the backup. People are bound to have questions and actions speak louder than words.” You nod, taking another bite of your food.

“Well, thanks,” you say, trying to fight off the awkwardness as he waves you off.

“This is much better than eating in the conference room with dozens of sweaty guys, believe me.” He looks around your room, taking in the bright decorations and your students’ art hung on the wall. “So, do you teach art too?” He asks.

You shrug. “It’s kindergarten, I teach everything.”

“Damn, Roadie,” Javy looks genuinely impressed. “Even math?”

“I mean, math for Kindergartners usually just consists of counting, shapes, and basic addition and subtraction but yeah,” you giggle a little as he laughs.

“Right, I almost forgot. But that’s still important, though, they need that to be able to do the rest.” He says, giving you a pointed look and you smile shyly.

“That’s why I love it so much,” you admit. “You get to make such a big impact on these kids’ lives.”

“It’s a big responsibility,” he points out.

“It’s a privilege.” You say, a soft smile on your lips and he gives you a look that you can almost convince yourself is pride.

The two of you fall back into silence as you eat until Javy speaks up again. “Do you still make octopus stew in kindergarten?” You can’t help the laugh that jumps out of your throat. Javy regards you curiously as you nod through your laughter.

“Yeah… yeah we still make octopus stew. We’re actually doing that next week.” His eyes brighten and you hesitate before you offer. “You could come if you wanted to? I mean just for the octopus stew part? We usually ask a couple of parents to come help out since there’s cooking involved, we could use the extra hands.” You can’t help the nerves that blossom in your stomach but Javy’s wide grin makes them worth it.

“I’d love to,” he beams before his brow furrows. “What day is it? We’re leaving on a road trip next Wednesday.” His face falls slightly and you can’t help the pang of sympathy that laces through you. You’ve seen it on Reuben’s face before. The realization that his job is stealing yet another special moment from him. He’s missed class plays, dance recitals, and more and it doesn’t get easier.

“Octopus Stew is on Tuesday,” you say with a soft smile, mentally running through the emails you’re going to need to send to the parents volunteering to successfully move around your lesson plans. The grin on Javy’s face is like the sun and you can’t help but feel relief, knowing that your slightly selfish plan is going to be worth it.

“Perfect, I’ll be there!” He announces and you can’t help the smile that his excitement brings to your lips. “By the way, are you doing anything after work today? The rest of the guys really want to meet you, and I thought maybe you could swing by the arena?” You hesitate and his gaze softens. “They’re not all assholes, I promise, you just got stuck with me.” You feel your cheeks heat at that.

“S-sure I can be there,” you murmur and he reaches a hand over, brushing your fingers with his. Somehow you don’t flinch away from his touch. “I’ll be there.” You say with more conviction and he squeezes your fingers gently.

You hear the bell go off in the hallway and glance at the clock, surprised. The moment is broken and you hurry to clear up your lunch trash. Javy stands, taking your lead, and carefully returns his chair to its desk. He holds out a hand to take the lunch trash and you pass it to him, appreciatively. Your eyes fall on the flowers, they’re a simple but bright bouquet of seasonals. “Thanks for the flowers, by the way,” you say and Javy turns to look at them from where he’s almost at the doorway.

“Oh, you don’t have to thank me. You’re my girlfriend, after all, flowers are a given. Do you have a vase?” He glances around the room, looking for one. You shake your head.

“Not here, no. I have some at home but I’ll probably get something plastic for the classroom in case of accidents.” Javy nods, his eyes thoughtful.

“Noted, I’ll bring a vase next time. I’ll see you this evening, Roadie.” He’s gone before you can comprehend his words and a soft smile graces your lips as you gather your lesson plans for the afternoon before heading down the empty hallway to pick up your students from the lunchroom, Javy long gone.

[rinaxtaros]

[07] | RED.

Summary: You settle into your new role within the Phantomhive Manor.

— deal with the devil (saying/phrase) The term "a pact with the devil" is also used metaphorically to condemn a person or persons perceived as having collaborated with an evil person or regime.

chapter 07

"Demons can make deals with other demons?" Ciel asks as he looks up from his pile of paperwork. Sebastian nods stiffly, eyeing his curious master.

"How does that work? Aren't you under contract to me?" He asks, setting his palms on the desk as he looks up at the two demons before him.

"Yes, I am, but a demon contract is different to a human contract.” Sebastian explains languidly.

You interrupt, "If I may speak, although it is a little confusing it is beneficial for demons as we basically live for the 'tit-for-tat' lifestyle.”

Ciel hums, swirling his cup of cold tea. He had barely touched the thing, swearing that Sebastian had made the tea wrong. You recalled laughing at the vein popping in Sebastian’s neck.

Sebastians hums "It's still a little taboo for.. us but us demons will do anything for our own benefits.”

Ciel understands that demons are selfish and possessive creatures but the thought of demons doing deeds for others is foreign to him. He assumed that they wanted nothing to do with each other if every demon had Sebastian’s attitude.

"We'll spare you the long and frankly boring details of a demon contract, but [Y/n] is now to listen to my commands as I have accepted a deal she had inquired about," Sebastian explains quickly. He could go on forever about contracts. Ciel nods and sees it as good enough.

Thankfully.

"I'm guessing you'll be staying here then" Ciel sends you a pointed look. You nod, seeing as Sebastian had practically explained you were now apart of the Manor team. It doesn’t seem to bother Ciel as he now has an extra person to do his dirty work. It’s not like you’re getting paid.

"You may go off and do your own duties.” Ciel sends you away with a flick of his hand. You watch as Sebastian obediently bows. The sight makes a laugh rumble in your throat, but you hold it back for the sake of not starting another argument.

As much as Sebastian is like a dog to Ciel, you’ve now become one for Sebastian as per the details of your contract. You can’t help but frown as you aimlessly follow the dark-haired demon who waves you along.

The door closes with a gentle click, accompanied by a quiet groan of the ages hinges. Sebastian already stands with a candle stick in hand, lighting the dim hallway. It’s amusing, as he doesn’t need the extra light to see within the dark halls. It seems Sebastian loves to keep up the façade, even when no one is watching.

"[Y/n], be a dear and remind me of who this demon is?" Sebastian purrs, leaning the flame towards your face. The radiated warmth across your face is quite conforming, but the shadow from the flame contorts his face into quite a lustfully sinister sight.

"I think he goes by Claude now.. although I'm not sure" You surmise, plucking your mind for any past interactions you’ve had with the prowling entity. From your knowledge, he’s used the same human name with his past few masters. He’s been hellbent on catching you as his mate ever since one mistaken moment together.

It’s a curse to be the sin of Lust sometimes.

"Sebastian?"

"Yes?"

"When my end of the deal is met…” You trail, eyes flickering towards the ground again. Sebastian simpers, sauntering silently ahead “We’ll see, my Dear.”

You dip, seeing as either situation would’ve had you stuck between a rock and a hard place. However, having Sebastian by your side would aid in your avail against Claude’s courting.

A demon courting is messy and bloody at times. Once a male has his eyes set, the woman can either give in or die trying to escape. On the off chance, the woman emerges victorious if the man is weaker. However, it is rare. Claude is strong and you’re certain he’s only gained more strength by completing odd jobs for whatever demented soul he’s serving.

Sebastian though, he has an unwavering strength that has gave you a boost in confidence. As long as you hold up your end of the deal, he has agreed to fight Claude off. Even if that means to kill him.

You hope it works anyway. The mark above your tainted heart hopes so.

The next day your new found trio had travelled into London to speak to a man named Abberline about the missing children. The interaction with Abberline left a sour taste in your mouth. Nothing particularly stood out about the man — he was an average investigator, though you knew he would most likely stand in the way of Ciel’s own investigation.

It’s making time with the two longer. Ugh.

As your group approaches the wooden carriage, Sebastian and Ciel started talking about the cases and the information they had somehow pulled from the nervous detective. You don’t pay much attention, barely looking at Sebastian even as he held the door open for you. He slides in a few moments later, slotting into the small seat next to you.

"I suppose we'll be paying him a call?"The rather distasteful emphasis on him peaks your interest. You scan Sebastian with a curious tinge swirling within your orbs.

"I don't like it any more than you do, but when needs must and all." Ciel answers loathfully. He taps the roof of the carriage with his cane to alert the driver to start moving.

It’s a rather short journey, though you spend most of your time watching the world go by. It would certainly be faster if you could travel at your own speed, but actually taking in your surroundings is nice. The bump of the wheels against the cobble stone street isn’t too pleasant, though.

"This is him?" You query as the carriage comes to a halt in front of a familiar building.

“Why, do you know him?” Sebastian questions, studying your face for any type of reaction as he exists the vehicle. He extends a hand, which you take so graciously. Though, you titter, “You could say that.”

Sebastian clicks his tongue to display his annoyance as you come to a stand. He drops his hand, signalling to the driver to wait. Sebastian steps back, allowing you step forward.

You try not to laugh as you allow your new (appropriate) dress to swipe along his legs flirtatiously.

Ciel, seemingly ignoring your interaction, walks to the cracked door. His hand leaves a feather-like touch against the skid, yet it screeches open. The ear-grating sound was sure to alert the shop owner of his presence "Undertaker? Are you about?"

There's no answer at first but Ciel takes the initiative to walk cautiously into the dark shop. Candles were littered across the shop’s floor and walls to provide an eerie - but on theme atmosphere.

Both of you follow behind, ignoring how your footsteps bounce off of the cobbled floors and concrete walls and back into their ears. The clicking of your heels surpasses the sound of the dull steps produced by Sebastian and Ciel’s flat shoes.

The shop door clicks closed behind the three, allowing the shop to now bask in the light from the candles. Only a few seconds pass before a creepy voice echoes through the shop, causing a shiver to ripple up the young Lord’s spine.

"Hello my Lord, it's so lovely to see you~" The Undertaker’s voice purrs out, kicking a disregarded skull. It rolls crudely towards the young masters legs, similar to a bowling ball to two pins. Ciel hisses, barely missing the barrelling object.

"What will it be then? Will I have the pleasure to fit you for one of my coffins?" The Undertaker goads blatantly. Though, his voice had travelled to behind the young master, causing Ciel to puff unexpectedly as the entrance to the shop is suddenly closed. The Undertaker lears as his hand presses firmly against the wood.

"Look you-" Ciel starts, only to be cut off by the Undertaker "Have a seat, I have a batch of biscuits still fresh from the oven!”

Though the behaviour would have you feeling unnerved a few years ago, the Undertaker has yet to shock you within this interaction. You’re quite astonished with Ciel’s ability to hide the fear that is absolutely spilling from his being.

You suppose you should end this odd stand-off.

"Stop teasing the poor boy.” You defend, placing a hand on Ciel’s shoulder. He tenses beneath the touch but quickly melts as he realises you’re defending him. Perhaps he’s too relieved to notice how casually you’re speaking to the creepy shop-keeper.

"You're acquainted with the brat, my Dear?" A frown settles on the Undertakers face. Sebastian shuffles from beside you, perhaps to gauge the interaction better. He’s been very openly scanning the surroundings of the shop.

“More than acquainted, actually.” Ciel’s head whips to meet your gaze. You glance down at the poor boy who looks as if he’s seen a ghost.

Whilst the Undertaker groans and says some off-handed comment about a literal child, Ciel is in complete guffaw “You know this creep?!”

It’s hard to hold back your laugh, so you chuckle and throw in a quick apology to the Undertaker. He seems more distracted by the fact you’re so close with the young boy who has caused him quite the stir over his years as the Queen’s Guard Dog.

“Yes. That is for another day, Ciel.”

Ciel nods - albeit still shocked - and tells the Undertaker the reason for their being (after trying to get through to the man for another 10 minutes.)

"Missing children, you say?" The Undertaker rubs his chin quizzically. You perch yourself against a staggered coffin, awaiting the long-winded story he’s bound to tell. The whole interaction has been quite boring, despite the comical expression Ciel had worn a few minutes ago.

"The authorities still consider them missing persons,” Sebastian informs "and no corpses turned up, do you know of any?"

"Well as tragic as it may be" The Undertaker lifts a bone shaped cookie and examines it under the candle light. Ever the dramatic.

“I don’t recall anything of the sorts.”

“I have their information here, look through these and tell me if you've taken care of any of these children.” Ciel ignores the Undertakers blatant lies. Sebastian thrusts the papers towards the mortician, ignoring how he complains that Sebastian is being too forceful.

"Hmm, have I seen this face before… I don't know...” He trails, “My memory would be right but sharper if I had myself a good laugh…”He acts coy.

Another pregnant ouse fills the air, “I think a good laugh would jog my memory!”

The two groan in agony as the conversation meets a stalemate. You’re certain this isn’t the first time he’s stuck them for a laugh in order to get the tiniest but of information on a case they could get elsewhere. You don’t want to stay much longer, though.

“Aren’t you being too stingray, Undertaker?” You hum, pushing yourself from the coffin, “I’m sure you don’t want to be here with the young master for much longer.”

“Young master…” He mocks, presumably rolling his eyes “Don’t tell me he has you calling him that pretentious title.”

You ignore his mocking and turn to Ciel “Let me do this. His humour is crude.” You warn.

Ciel quietly debates within his head.

"All you've got to do is give it to me! Just give me the gift of true laughter!" Like a bulb, the Undertakers behaviours switches as he slides himself across the coffin just a metre before Ciel’s body. He twists like a cat, extending his hands in front of him as if they were claws as he twists upside down "One laugh and all of my information is at your disposal!" He giggles.

Ciel looks to Sebastian, "See to it, will you?" He asks

The Undertaker takes the chance to jab at the boy "Having him do your dirty work then?" He asks, twisting upright.

“That's the trouble with you upper class blokes…Can't do anything without your butlers, ay?" Ciel fumes, clenching his fists. The better half of you wants to step in, but deep down you want to see if Ciel will crack.

“It’s all the same to me, I just want a laugh" The Undertaker shrugs.

Ciel thwacks his staff against the cobble floor, "I'll take care of this.”

"His humour is quite crude, my Lord" You warn once more. Ciel’s frame shakes with unbrittled anger, visibly wound up from the Undertakers relentless teasing. You’re sure it’s a build up of past interactions, but the sight is even unruly for you.

“I can do it for you—“

"Both of you, go outside!" Sebastian glances at you, then motions to the door. You look between the Undertaker and Ciel who glare at each other unwaveringly. You twist on your heel, accepting the pre-teens stubbornness. It’s one thing he must get from Sebastian.

As you step outside and adjust to the blinding light, Sebastian lets you know of the time. You stretch your arms, groaning as a loud pop follows.

“He’ll take forever.”

"Young Master, are you sure that a circus is a place for a noble like you?"You’re curious. Ciel had decided that both he and Sebastian would join the circus to learn of the disappearance of several children. The Undertaker had said that the missing children were coinciding with the location of the travelling circus and that a child had been snatched not long ago.

Ciel peers at you over the rim of his cup of tea. The light shines from his silver rings, causing you to wince for a slight second. He sets his cup down, smacking his lips to rid of any excess droplets.

"The Queen has asked me to look into the missing children cases and it seems everywhere this circus goes, children go missing along with it:” He explains shortly. You can’t do much but nod. It’s all you’ve done for the past few weeks, so you quietly smooth down the pinafore straps of your skirt to fill the silence of the room. Sebastian stands idle nearby.

It’s quite awkward, even for yourself. You find yourself having to occupy your hands more often. Perhaps it’s because you have another demon watching your every move — one that’s strong enough to easily take you down. You find yourself thinking about it at night and how you hadn’t felt such emotions while serving Anne before the last few weeks of her short life.

You despise the feelings. It’s too human. Too familiar.

"Young Master! Your carriage has arrived!" Mey-Rin bursts through the oak doors, hands slamming both of them open clumsily. Ciel, who had only swallowed another mouth full of tea, splutters.

“T-Thank you, Mey-Rin.”

Ciel orders you to file into the carriage alongside them. Though curious, you follow through seeing as Sebastian told you to listen to Ciel. You’re were wandering how you’re meant to follow Sebastian’s orders when he’s not around to give you any, so the ride to the circus should hopefully fill you in.

"I'm sending Sebastian to look through the circus, I'm sure you know that by now:” Ciel recaps. He had send Sebastian solo to scope out the circus before their arrival and subsequently left you in charge to pander to Ciel’s needs. He’s quite demanding and you understood why Sebastian seems to have a stick up his ass permanently when he’s not flirting.

"He gathered that there may be too many people around to carry out our investigation as a duo, so I need you to come as a decoy.” Ciel continues, “You’ll distract and keep people away from where we need to be. Do whatever you want as long as you don’t attract too much attention.”

This is certainly not what you expected, but one glance at disinterested Sebastian tells you that the two had thoroughly discussed the plan beforehand.

“Refrain from using formalities with me as we are pretending to be common folk.” Sounds about right.

You stay silent, processing the whole ordeal. You find it quite odd that you’re only being told this now, as if Sebastian and Ciel weren’t really decided in your addition. But then again, what is hiding within the circus to make them think they’ll need a permanent decoy?

[dailydemonspotlight]

Daisoujou - Day 125

Race: Fiend

Arcana: Heirophant

Alignment: Neutral

October 11th, 2024

I'm surprised it took this long to cover my personal favorite of the fiends, but what else is spookier than a skeleton? However, Daisoujou's portrayal as one is, ironically, rather inaccurate, and in order to get into that, we need to explore what Daisoujou is based on- not a myth, nor a cryptid, but something entirely different: Sokushinbutsu, a form of ritual suicide in ancient Buddhism, and one of the most extreme and unique practices in certain Buddhist sects- one to ensure perfect preservation in death.

The practice of sokushinbutsu is a very rare and obscure one, connected to only certain sects in Buddhism and only done by the most extreme practitioners of the lifestyle of asceticism, which is a lifestyle defined by refusing to partake in the pleasures of the world and instead living a solitary lifestyle. However, first, I want to explore what Daisoujou actually means, as it's relatively hard to parse without prior knowledge or, in my case, not knowing the language. Once again, Monolingualism dooms me.

Daisoujou as a name seems to be an anglicized version of a term used to refer to head monks in some Buddhist areas, as a 僧正, anglicized as Soujou, is a high-ranking, government-appointed monk put out to maintain and manage Buddhist areas under government supervision. Following this, 大僧正, anglicized as Daisoujou, is the head of these head monks, being the leader of Chinese Buddhism under government supervision overall, at least from what I can tell- I might be getting some things messed up, as, again, I can't speak or read Chinese. However, what's important here is that Daisoujou overall essentially means a monk that has attained great peace, even being a title applied to monks who have attained Buddhahood in their lifetime. Allegedly, the title was given to Kūkai, the founder of Shingon Buddhism, after his death. お大師様 is the title given to Kūkai by people who refer to him and follow his philosophy, so make of that what you will.

Moving from Chinese Buddhism to Japanese Buddhism, what this ties back into is that Kōbō Daishi, the now-dead Kūkai, was entombed after months of not eating as he saw his end was near, and when his body was uncovered years later, he had barely rotted a day, tying this occurrence to Sokushinbutsu, as that is exactly what the process is carried out for- preserving a monk as-is. As its name literally translates to "Buddha in this very body", this practice was the most extreme form of asceticism attainable, with a monk burying themselves and then intentionally eating the very bare minimum, each day, ringing a bell every day they were alive to tell the people above ground that, yes, they were alive. Surviving off of an incredibly strict diet of tree roots, nuts, and berries, these monks would intentionally break away all of their body fat until they were, almost literally, just skin and bones.

Curiously, the diet had more of a purpose than depriving those who took part in it of commonalities- not only was it spiritually important to show a hardened and dedicated shell, but it was also a perfect diet for ensuring a lack of decomposition due to how it would deprive any bacteria of nutrients and remove the fat and muscle from the frame. After around 1000 days of this diet, the monk would prepare further for the process, moving from this strict diet to eating nothing and drinking only salinized water before being lowered in a pine-tar box into the ground to meditate during their final days. As time would go on, the monk's ringing of the bell would quiet, and eventually, when it'd stop ringing, the process was complete- they would be dead, yet perfectly preserved, much like a mummy- in a way, it's a self-mummification process undertaken while the monk is still alive.

If carried out properly, the monk would be taken from their burial and placed down in a spot of worship, where people would pray to it. If it showed signs of decay, the cadaver would be given a proper burial, and it was assumed they didn't attain Sokushinbutsu. One can assume that, perhaps, Daisoujou didn't attain it, as the design in SMT is rather obviously skeletal, though with a gnarly detail that I love- the yellower skeleton color, especially compared to other fiends, calls back to the mummification and also looks like dried skin wrapped around the bones. The monk holds prayer beads and wears attire akin to somewhat contemporary Japanese Buddhist robes, specifically being a kesa. Honestly, I love this design for a multitude of reasons, but primarily for being such a unique idea given a fantastic interpretation in the series. Kaneko never ran out of creativity, and Daisoujou's design is a perfect reflection of that.

[plasmamembranes]

I have never had acne in my life and for the most part have had skin that doesn't break out much despite putting barely any effort in to maintain it, but starting several months ago I got what I consider for myself to be severe acne on my face and since I have compulsive skin picking problems it was literal hell for me. I tried a couple different products to get rid of it and then also changed several different things about my lifestyle, trying to pinpoint what changes occurred around the time I started getting acne and just backtracking and changing things one by one. Well it ended up being the fact that my girlfriend and I would shower then put on smelly Bath and Body Works lotions for each other before our dates, then go to bed with them still on and cuddle and fuck or whatever so I'd be marinating in that all night and rubbing it all over my face. I seem to be ultra sensitive to that stuff. Since we stopped putting the lotion on, my acne completely stopped

But it makes us really sad. The lotions were a cheap way to smell really good for each other and we spent a lot of time picking out specific scents for one another. We are trying to pivot to colognes but we have some issues. The only places that sell colognes around here have them locked away and don't let you sample them to my knowledge, and it's a small town so there aren't many places that sell them to begin with. Is there anyone who buys a lot of perfumes or colognes like online or something that can either recommend good ones or tell me how to sus out good ones from bad ones? Like when ordering online how are we supposed to tell if the scents will be good for us or not -_-

[helly-watermelonsmellinfellon]

Furina, and Genshin Stans' Inability to Handle Criticism

*SPOILERS*

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The introduction of Focalors as a character in 4.0, did what it should. She was a very polarizing character and had people forming very specific opinions that would be damn near impossible to change.

Most everyone enjoyed the fact that she wasn't kissing the Traveler's ass, wasn't flirting with the Traveler from the jump, and was dramatic. However, that did not mean that many of them came away liking her as a character. It wasn't translated as 'simply bratty' or 'adorable tantrums' to many of us.

People are capable of liking the fact that she was written differently even if we didn't like her personality.

Personally, I still don't like Keqing even after everything that's happened so far. I find her attitude to be very annoying, and her stances on many things piss me off, but it's also nice for her to not be up the Traveler's ass when they come around. It gives every scene a nice air to experience.

Furina's story ending up incredibly tragic does not mean people have to suddenly pander to her.

At most, she was disliked by many for appearing to be lazy and not actually doing anything useful for her people the whole time. And Arlecchino had a right as a citizen of Fontaine, to call her out for her inaction and chosen lifestyle. Just because it was revealed that Furina was playing her part in order to fool Fate and the Heavenly Principles, does not mean Arlecchino is in the wrong for what she said(attempting assassination is another matter entirely).

Furina still called Paimon an object and tried to ignore her living, breathing sentience just so she could try to get the Traveler on trial for a fake accusation. Even if that law actually exists(per Neuvillette's voice lines) Paimon is not an object. Those of us with common sense recognized how fucked up that was, and how bullshit it was to try something like that just to... prevent the Traveler from wandering around and getting involved in stuff.

Y'all realize the Traveler would have ended up in the Fortress of Meropide for a crime they did not commit, right?

No one held a gun to Furina's head to make her do that. She could have completely avoided the Traveler entirely, but instead SHE CHOSE to make that their first meeting. The Traveler and Paimon base their impressions on her off of that meeting. And even after months in Fontaine, she did not prove to be much better at anything else.

In the end, Focalors' plan proved Furina wasn't being useless. She was actually doing her part as faithfully as possible, but that's all it really did. The accusations of her not caring and being lazy were wrong. She cared a lot and she worked very hard to exhaustion(both mental and physical).

But Furina spent 500 years treating people a certain way, and that has results. Those not from Fontaine are not as blinded by the glamor of her behavior and don't see it as acceptable. And guess what? Her introduction to the Traveler involved racism and dehumanizing the Traveler's companion(even if Paimon isn't human, she's sentient and living and humanoid) for the sake of a farcical court trial.

Then, she made false accusations against Lyney not long after. And the investigation by anyone but the Traveler was truly lackluster with barely any effort put in. To make things worse, she couldn't find any proof for her claims, so she just threw a group of orphans under the bus because... for some reason the Fatui has to be the ones to take in Fontainian children so they're not living on the streets.

It's not a good look.

Furina has suffered and has done her part to save her people, but she's also done some fucked up things and hasn't apologized for them.

You can't clamor for Arlecchino to apologize for what she said, or for Paimon to apologize for pestering her over and over to help out that theater troupe, and then sit there quiet over her behavior that had NOTHING to do with her cover as a 'god'. She could have easily kept up that cover while demanding for the case to be investigated better(NO ONE thought to look into the possessions of the troupe members before the Traveler asked? NO ONE thoughts to look in ALL the boxes while down int he basement?).

Many people got to learn that Furina is not a shitty Archon. She protected the people in the only way she knew was possible. She held that secret and was willing to take it to the grave.

She's also made some mistakes and never apologized.

The Traveler and Paimon not really knowing who the real Furina is or what her personal values are, doesn't mean they're being callous to her. Paimon saying she had no idea Furina would feel a certain way over something that happened, isn't her being mean. It's her literally not knowing and saying it in surprise.

The Traveler and Paimon thinking of Furina first after hearing that someone needs an expert in drama and theater, isn't them being mean. She's literally a celebrity known for performing on stage and is the only actress they were aware of in Fontaine. Common sense, people, learn to use it.

At most, the constant pushing was the actual bad part, and even then, this is Paimon... who needs things said 2 or 3 times in different ways before she(and by extension the playerbase) understands what's going on. That's just her character to repeat things just to get the clear picture. She's been doing it since the start of the game, and we all hate it. This isn't new.

Adding on... Neuvillette literally also did the same shit when he heard Furina was involved in a theater troupe's last performance. He tried to urge her to take to the stage once again and was quite insistent over it as well. He even used his own emotional ties to her to try and get her to change her mind. Yeah, he's hot and cool, but if Neuvillette doing the pestering is perfectly okay, then it was never the pestering and 'guilt-tripping' y'all had a problem with. It was just the people it was coming from.

Apparently, if it comes from a stranger that you aren't friends with, it's evil and horrible and despicable, but if someone you've known for 500 years keeps bringing up how they wish you'd change your mind on doing the thing you said you won't do anymore, all because they enjoyed watching you do it, then it's alright and just friends looking out for friends.

Furina is complex and more compelling as a character now, but she's still got a long way to go and all the time in the world to get there.

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

hi, i’ve been following you for a while but this is my first time back on the app in a long long time. I just saw your post about getting sent home from surgery, I wanted to reach out to you and let you know that you are truly not alone with your frustrations with medicine right now. i have been struggling for years with so many issues such as incredibly low ferratin, my glucose levels are off, i can’t keep my platelet level high enough and because i’m so young they refuse to help me figure out if i may have an autoimmune disease. whenever i finally get to see a doctor i’m told i just need to make a lifestyle change & to go home. I have not felt like myself in years. not only that, i’ve watched my mother go through the same thing i’m going through and come home crying because she was disregarded by yet another doctor. keep fighting, you will find help. i’m so sorry for the way you have been treated & i cannot imagine your own frustration as someone who is in the field themselves. i know it seems hopeless, but i am rooting for you <3 thank you for sharing your story so that other people feel seen as well. I truly appreciate it.

Thank you so much for reaching out. I completely understand "not feeling like myself" part. I mean I've always had chronic pain and it did limit me somewhat but I was also functioning despite it. Last two years have brought me to my knees and I can't believe it but I miss the usual chronic pain and fatigue, because this, how I am right now, is not sustainable and at this point I just want my life back. Feels like all I've done is work and sleep and gain weight, because I have no energy to do anything else. I started working out again in September and lost some weight and was thinking maybe I'm getting better and in like 3 weeks I got so much worse and the last 3 months have been absolute hell.

I went into this field to help people like me. A little selfish in a way because I used everything I can learn to help myself (lot of good it did, huh), but also to be that one doctor people come to and know their voice is heard and that the person before them will do everything to help. Medical gaslighting (for women especially) is terrible, I'm sorry they're not taking you seriously. The saddest part is that it takes either a life threatening event for them to help or 10+ years before you find someone who is willing to do the necessary work and tests and help you. I've been on both sides, I hope you find someone capable before it gets bad. If the doctor won't listen, switch doctors if you financially can or badger the first one continuously until they hear what you have to say. I wish I advocated for myself more. I wish my parents advocated for me too, because I haven't been pain free since I turned 9. Don't give up either, okay? Chronic illness girlies might be a terrible name for a club but unfortunately there's a lot of us in it. Trust your intuition and your body, you know best when something isn't right. Always trust that gut feeling. Journal symptoms with dates and severity, and if you do your labs always keep the results, form your own medical history. I'm really sorry you're going through that. I wish you didn't suffer this way. No one should be put in this position.

P.S. the lifestyle change they talk about...can hold some merrit but root cause won't be fixed by simply losing some weight and fixing your diet. I've tried. The fact they barely understand the concept of "my diet isn't great because I'm too tired to cook, I'm in pain and working out makes it worse or the I'm gaining weight because of my symptoms that you refuse to acknowledge and treat". Most of us tend to gain weight because of the chronic issues that go unresolved for so long. Hearing "lose weight" pisses me off because my symptoms were there when I was skinny too, it makes no difference. Will it help somewhat? Maybe. But to blame weight and lifestyle choices and treat that as a cure-all is frankly lazy and an insult to our lived experience.

[thelovelysimz]

New series coming!

*loosely based off a show I watched and parts of my own life.

Dear Elliot Mae,

By the time you read this letter you’ll be roughly 15 years old. I made this letter when you were little so I could tell you the story from start to finish on how we met.

Before I met you I was a different person. You changed me. So here’s how we met.

My names Maya and I come from a very rich, very high family orientated family. I have 3 brothers and 3 sisters. My mother believes family is the most important thing in the world and success within our family is a must. However I wasn’t like them. I was different. You see I never wanted a family, I never wanted kids. What gave me great pleasure in life was my job. At the age of sixteen I was given opportunity to work in the office of the brindleton bay district police force. I’d file paper work, get everyone coffee. You know all the small things. All of us children had jobs because our parents believed in if we wanted our trust inheritance we needed to go out into the world and experience money for ourselves too. Most of my siblings tried out jobs but preferred to be at home and quit. Not me though, I got a rush from working and especially in the police force. By the time I was 18 I stared my Cadetship and ranked fast for my age. Now I’m an undercover private investigator as well as a forensic investigator. I worked many hours and yet I was complete. My family didn’t approve of my job nor my lifestyle choices. By the time I was twenty years old I was expected to have a partner and be ready to stay at home as a housewife and bare children. I didn’t choose this and thus my family became very confused and angry at me.

Time went on and I didn’t change my mind. The idea of children made my skin crawl. I just wasn’t maternal. I remember the day my nephews and nieces were born and they’d ask me hold them and I got no maternal deep bullshit feeling your suppose to have over holding a baby. It just wasn’t my thing. I always felt like the odd one in my family but it didn’t bother me because I liked who I was.

Over time my parents tried to threaten me into marriage. I had boyfriends but I loosely use the term boyfriend as I was so obsessed with working I didn’t see a point in a long term relationship. When you go through your training you realise that criminal and those around you always go for the emotional attachments their victims have. Eg: partners, family. If I didn’t have that. I wasn’t seen as an ideal target. So I’d have “boyfriends” come and go and that was that.

*to be continued

[knifeoverheart]

𝐤𝐧𝐢𝐟𝐞𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 / penned by 𝘩𝑜𝑛𝑒𝑦 ( 28, gmt, she/her )

walking through the picturesque streets of cardinal hill, you find zhang 'phoenix' feng (dong sicheng), the 25 year old late night dj at soundwaves originally from seattle, washington. living alongside them in such a small town, you know that they're empathetic and timid, but what you might not know is that they are a witch, and that they’re hiding something…

name: zhang feng / phoenix zhang age: 25 gender & preferred pronouns: male, he/him faceclaim: dong sicheng three positive traits: empathetic, gentle, hardworking three negative traits: naive, timid, repressed

quick intro !

he doesn’t officially have an english name, but his chinese name means ‘phoenix’, so that’s what he goes by (feel free to call him nix as well tbh!!)

his parents emigrated from beijing to seattle in search of a better life and the illusive american dream, but struggled to make ends meet

nix's mother was a promising ballet dancer from a wealthy family back in china, but she gave up her career and lifestyle to move to the us with nix's father, who was from a humble background but determined to make it big

she stayed with him even after a string of failed businesses — until she found out that he was cheating on her

around the same time, she also found out that she was pregnant with phoenix, deciding to keep the baby as a last ditch effort to hold onto her husband

her husband eventually left her, leaving her to raise a child that she never even truly wanted on her own

she was very hard on nix growing up, enrolling him in ballet classes almost as soon as he could walk in an attempt to regain what she'd given up through him

for his part, nix did inherit his mother's talent and won quite a number of accolades as a child, but he felt suffocated by the weight of his mother's expectations

eventually, they had a falling out when nix decided not to pursue ballet professionally after high school; and because he'd never been given the opportunity to have a life outside of ballet, he ended up not going to college at all

he got in his car and just drove — eventually ended up in cardinal hill, where he's lived for the past 6 years

now, he's a late night dj at soundwaves while he tries to figure out who he is outside of his mother's ambition, although sometimes you might find him at the stream studio outside opening hours, retracing his steps from the past and trying to reclaim something he once thought he loved

wanted connections !

someone who first took him in / helped him out when he first arrived at cardinal hill, completely lost and barely able to function independently — beau proctor

owner of the stream studio? while there is a fair bit of trauma attached to it, there is also a part of him that genuinely loves and misses dancing, so he asks to use the dance studio outside of opening hours — can be an arrangement between the two of them, we can plot more about what your muse gets from nix in return — [0/1]

maybe someone who regularly listens to / is a fan of his late night radio segment — [1/?]

someone who gets him out of his comfort zone — maybe they have a tendency to call him out in the middle of the night to explore the woods, or enjoy watching his reaction as he tries new foods — [0/1]

first male crush — he spent most of his childhood and teen years hyper focused on ballet and never really got to do normal things, which is why it'd come as a surprise when he found himself getting nervous and flustered around another man. did anything ever come out of his crush? or did it eventually fizzle out? — corey agnew

cooking buddy — he's taught himself how to cook since moving to cardinal hill, but everything's more fun with a friend. either your muse is terrible at cooking and phoenix teaches them, or they could also be really good at cooking and teach phoenix new dishes — [0/1]

best friend — he's very shy with strangers, but once he gets to know someone, he's a completely different person. your muse has seen sides of nix that no one else has, and he's fiercely loyal (almost to a fault) — [0/1]

[ask-warmer-hues]

Can you give explanations of the jobs of some of the trolls and why you gave them those jobs in your au?

So, I’ve talked about jobs before in this post, but I can explain why I gave them those jobs here if you’d like :))

So, Xefros and Dammek are technically both butlers, but Xefros is the only one who’s actually employed. He’s employed by a nameless blueblood (use your imagination), and most of his job consists of standing around, bringing his employer food and drink, and cleaning up his mansion. While I do think Xefros still has an interest in arena stickball and definitely had the potential to go pro, I reckon that Dammek kind of forced him to settle into butlering, keeping him under the impression that it was a more stable position. Ironic, since Dammek himself hasn’t actually been able to stay in one butler position for more than a few weeks at a time. I chose this for them because not only does it align with their whole “Butler Boys” thing in canon, but I think it demonstrates a lot about their characters. Xefros has had to give up a lot for Dammek, but still works hard, while Dammek avoids responsibility even when it’s literally handed to him.

Chixie and Marsti are both nurses, albeit different kinds. Marsti is an emergency nurse, meaning that she tends to trolls who come in to their version of an ER, while Chixie tends to patients who are admitted for more long-term care, like trolls with broken bones or serious injuries. Now, Marsti being a nurse objectively makes sense, given her medical knowledge in canon, as well as her janitorial duties (there’s a LOT of cleaning involved in nursing), but I can imagine that some of you think it’s an odd choice for Chixie. To make a very long story short, much like Xefros, Chixie had to essentially choose between her passion and her career. Being a singer off-planet is a completely different ball game to being a casual singer on Alternia and, for Chixie, the odds were very much stacked against her. Sleazy managers, awful contracts, no real identity other than what’s manufactured for her- you get the picture. But, with the help of Marsti, Chixie managed to find her place in nursing, as it gave her an opportunity to use her love of helping other lowbloods trolls in a way that matters. She still sings, but it’s more for herself these days.

Skylla and Vikare are a bit more bare bones. Skylla is a lusus wrangler and Vikare is an Empire pilot- both pertaining to their interests and lifestyles in canon. Skylla’s job involves capturing and taming lusii so they can be placed on Alternia to raise grubs, which is just as dangerous it sounds. Vikare used to be in the Empire’s military, but now runs supply drops after a gruesome injury during an aerial dogfight. Again, very simple, very much in line with canon.

Fozzer has technically had two jobs while off-planet. When he first ascended, he was part of the body disposal unit; preparing corpses to be disposed of and- where necessary- “reused”, pulling his knowledge from his culture and time at the Pit Park. Unfortunately, Fozzer had a bit of an incident at work, which resulted in him attacking a co-worker and being removed from the unit. However, after having a corrective procedure, Fozzer found himself becoming somewhat of an Empire darling, due to his uncanny ability to talk his way out of anything. Thus, he was hired to be a lecturer, giving talks to lowbloods about the value of their work and whatnot. In his own words though, it’s less performing arts, more customer service, as he’s essentially selling them a state of mind (one he doesn’t believe in at that). I picked this route for him for two main reasons: the first is that, in canon, he’s shown to be a bit of a hypocrite and can make anything sound convincing, and the second is for super secret plot reasons.

Little bonus for you! Zebruh owns a casino- this is purely an aesthetic choice and I think it fits him- and Ardata is somewhat of a freelance executioner for the Empire, who runs her business from the basement of Zebruh’s casino. She still does streaming, but it’s more for advertising purposes.

[shslpunkdrabbles]

Symbol Chapter 0.1: Spades

(A look into the life of the Spade Cards and lifestyle)

~~~~~

“Well, since we have a grand 3 challengers here with all different ideas on what to play, I get to decide what the game is. So the game will be… Tycoon! It’s my favorite game, after all, but it doesn’t mean I’m guaranteed the win. You just have to make sure to get rid of all your cards before everyone else, and if you rack up enough points, you win!”

“But.. this means we’re all against one another..”

“That makes it way harder! Why couldn’t we just challenge you one by one??”

“I was so ready for my own game, but you.. You’ll take advantage of this! It’s not fair, right??”

“Mm.. That’s true. It’s normally a 1 v 1. So, I’ll propose this: you three can be a team, and focus me down. You can tell each other what cards you have, ensure I don’t have a chance to play, do whatever you want to do to make sure I lose.

“If you win, you guys can figure out who shall be the new Leader of Spades together~”

- - - - -

The Spades Section of the Symbol City. A place full of neon bright lights, soothing music, and bustling entertainment buildings. Out of all the four sections, this one was the place to be for fun. Restaurants big and small, clubs of different genres for different folks, arcades from classic to 4D, and so much more. Various Servants with heads of Spades wandered together with the residents, ready to assist anyone who had questions and concerns with anything. The city lights look like stars in the pale blue landscape, the moon never seeming to set to give the sun a turn, but it still felt so warm and bright. If you were bored in this part of town.. Well, you were just a boring person, weren’t you?

One of the biggest clubs in town was the FNF, run by one of the Leader’s very own Trump Cards. This club was full of the best music, and hosted countless singing competitions and karaoke nights. The drinks were fruity, as well as the workers there. There were also private rooms for private games, and you can even stack up winnings to get yourself some prizes, which can be saved for another visit. Wins aren’t rigged against the customer, since this was all fun sport, but..

“Ahhh~! Gotta hurry! I’m gonna miss their challenge!”

A blue hair playboy bunny rushed around the club, quickly checking if everything was running smoothly. Customers could barely catch a glimpse of him from how fast he was running; his super speed was a power given to him by the Leader themselves. His blue-highlighted black bunny ears whipped in different directions, trying to see if there was any sort of issue that needed his help. There weren't normally any issues when he was in and out the club, but you can never be too sure.

[You don’t have to worry so much, Keith.] A female robotic voice spoke up, spooking the bunny to a halt. Keith looked over to see his older sister, Roxanne, who was standing behind him with her trusty clipboard in hand and male Servant by her side. She, too, was dressed in a playboy bunny outfit, yet she somehow looked more modestly dressed than him. [I can handle the club while you’re gone. You should worry more about being on time.] A choker around her neck glowed whenever it spoke, despite her lips not moving. 

Keith pouted at the slight jab at his tardiness. “It’s not my fault! Someone kept using all their points to challenge me, so it went way longer than expected! They lost it all, and I had fun, but now I’m running behind!” Yes, customers can use their earnings to challenge Keith directly, in hopes of winning even bigger, more enticing prizes. However, they’re no easy wins, and he always dominates the challenge with a perfect score. People know this, yet they continue to challenge; either the grand prizes are just so tempting to win, or his cocky and teasing behavior makes them want to wipe that smirk off his face. 

His ears stopped darting about and drooped, meaning his “scan” of the club was complete. “Ok Roxie! I’m passing control over to you! Keep me posted in case anyone tries anything funny. And don’t let that chick stare at your butt anymore! I’ll fight her if she dares try to go third base with my sister.” Keith glared at Roxanne, who was blushing beet red and bonked him with the clipboard. Rushing over to the exit, he raised his hand to his earring, ready to transform out of his uniform.. Until someone blocked his way. He groaned in annoyance and said, “I’m off the clock, buddy. Talk to Roxanne if you need something.”

“Ah c’mon, just real quick.” The sneaky guy grinned as he towered over Keith, but the Trump Card was far from fazed. “You said last time that you would accept my lil game, yet you’re tryna pull a fast one on me yet again. It’s a quick game, nothing we gotta set up with anything fancy.”

“Me, pull a fast one? You’re the one that has a tab that hasn’t been paid off yet!” Keith retorted. “You were already warned that if you didn’t pay your tab at the end of the week, you’d be forced to clean this place until it’s paid in full.”

“I know, I know, but that’s what my lil bet is for.” The man flicked a coin in the air, catching it without breaking eye contact with Keith. “Just one game of Heads or Tails. If you win, I pay for everything tonight. I win, and the debts’ gone.” His grin grew as he leaned forward, pressing his forehead against Keith’s. “And don’t worry if you lose. We can always double or nothin’, heh heh~..”

This bastard and his coin.., Keith thought, sucking his teeth in. There was always annoying customers like him, and he always challenged people to coin flips just to get out of trouble. Keith was all too familiar with it, especially with how this guy knew how high to flip the coin in order to get the side he wanted. He could just ban the guy from the club, but at this point..

“Fine. Flip it.”

The man’s eyes widened in excitement. This was going to be such an easy win, and knowing how stubborn Keith was about losing.. Hoho, the things he’s going to make this bunny bitch do~! “Alrighty then! After I flip it, just say what side you want while it’s in the air. Good luck~” Doing two casual flips, he snaps the coin high into the air with his thumb, still not breaking eye contact with Keith. “So? Heads or Tails~?”

“Heads.” Keith answered instantly.

The man caught the coin and slapped it onto the back of his other hand. He didn’t even have to look at it to know what it was, and boy was he excited. “Y’sounded pretty confident there, lil bunny boy. Unfortunately for you, it was–”

…. Wait.

“.. huh? But.. it was supposed to be..”

This time, it was Keith’s turn to grin almost sinister-like. “Get your suit on. You work in 10 minutes.”

- - - - -

While the FNF was the most popular club within Spades, the Sweet Delights was the most popular cafe there. It’s mainly known for its wide variety of desserts and all things sweet, but their sandwiches, various comfort drinks, and small meals can rival most restaurants there. Not to mention the five beautiful maids that serve the customers with a bright smile on their faces.. Well, if you don’t do something that’ll have them death glare you to the ground. This bubbly yet cozy atmosphere attracts people from even the other Symbols, keeping it consistently busy until closing.

“Puuuddiiiing! Is the Smores Cheesecake ready yeeeet?” One maid with the poofiest pigtails popped her head into the kitchen, calling out for the bluenette maid baking with various Servants. All were hard at work in catching up with the different dessert orders, but none were stressing from the busy business (not like the Servants could visibly show stress, but if “Pudding” was fine, so was everything else). “I’m sorry for rushing, by the by! They’re my last table, and there’s something I HAVE to record for Miss Cremie! It’s about these magical mecha girls, and–”

A bonk on the head cut her off from blabbing, causing her to cower and whine. A maid with short pink hair growled, her face flushed in embarrassment. “Shortcake, if you don’t shut your trap, I swear to god..” “Miss Cremie” (or Creme, her ACTUAL alias) looked over to all the desserts going through the last bit of decoration, her irritation turning into concern. Stepping into the kitchen, she leaned closer to the bluenette and whispered “Leroy, are you okay? If you need a break, I can take over..”

“Hm?” Leroy, who was hyper focused at the before mentioned cheesecake, snapped back to reality and looked over to “Creme” with wide eyes. Some chocolate syrup was on his cheek and fingers, and his apron was slightly more messy with various creams, but he didn’t seem to be stressed out. If anything, he looked as if he was perfectly in his element. 

Once he realized who was next to him, he smiled and grabbed a nearby rag to clean off his hands and cheek. “I’m fine, Sophia. We should be done with everything in just a bit. The kitchen will focus on sandwiches and crepes afterwards, once the desserts are kept warm..” he lightly booped Sophia’s nose, “.. or cool for the night~” Giggling at Sophia’s flushed face again, Leroy put on the final touches to the cheesecake, before carefully placing it into a to-go box. “Here you go, Poppy. You’re free to leave once you get your table cleaned up. Oh, and your red velvet cupcakes are waiting for you in the cooler~”

“Yaaaay! Thank yooooou~♡!” Poppy instantly recovered into her bubbly self from the mention of her work reward, and she grabbed the box with excitement, trying not to bounce too much in her step as she rushed to her customer’s table. The maids used fake aliases at work, since it felt a little weird to be addressed by their actual names by random customers. However, they used their real names when in the kitchen or break room, as well as outside of work. Poppy and Sophia, as well as two others named Vivian and Nova (also known as Matcha and Mocha) were hired by Leroy and he found each of them at their lowest. They all feel indebted to him, but he sees them all as good friends that helped him adjust more to the Symbol City.

Since he came from the outside..

“How are Vivian and Nova holding up?” Leroy asked Sophia as they both began cleaning up the kitchen counters. “Have they decided who is going to stay and help you out for the night?”

“Vivian’s gonna stay and work.” Sophia answered. “She’s taking a nap right now during her break, so once she’s up, Nova will head out.” She grabbed a box of opened strawberries and glanced over to the bluenette. When he nodded, she took a berry and bit into it, smiling at the freshness. “Most of our usuals have already finished their meals and left, and we haven’t had any creeps come today, so I wanna say it’s gonna be a smooth night.”

“That’s good. Don’t be afraid to call me if someone tries to start any problems, okay?” Leroy placed the remaining dirty dishes to the dishwasher, where a Servant nodded and got to work in washing. He looked over to the clock and subconsciously played with the hem of his maid dress. “He should be here soon.. I should wash up and change.”

Sophia looked puzzled at Leroy’s statement.. Then furrowed her brow at a thought. “Wait.. is that guy coming here? The friggin’ giant that looks like he hasn’t grown out of his edge phase?”

“.. Pfft!” Leroy couldn’t help but snort at Sophia’s comment, then waved his hand in denial. “No no, not Tsuri. I meant Keith! Ore-.. Our Leader is going to be challenged today. It’s going to be broadcast in a bit, so we want to watch it.” He waltzed over to the pink maid, who had sighed in relief at the confirmation, and held onto her hands, a sneaky glint in his eyes. “Y’know, you don’t have to be mean to him just because you’re jealous, Sophi. You know you and the other maids are my utmost favorites, right~?”

“Wh-?! J-Jealous?? Of him?! Hell no!” Sophia flabbergasted, her face turning red for the third time that night. “I-I just think he needs to get that stick out his ass! He’s always so serious and annoying! I feel it’d kill him to literally smile. .. then again, trying to imagine him smiling puts a shiver down my spine..” 

Seeing Sophia actually shiver at the thought had Leroy giggling again. He couldn’t help himself and kissed her cheek; a habit he had when he was with the other maids, as well as the few others very important to him. Keith.. Tsuri.. Leroy shook his head and let go of the pink maid in order to fix his dress, ignoring the literal smoke steaming out of Sophia’s ears. “Well, I should get going. Vivian, Nova, and your treats are in the cooler as well, so you can grab them once you’re done with your shift. Please let the other two as well.” 

With a tap on his collar, a light beam swirled around Leroy’s body, and the blue maid dress was replaced with a pale brown sweater dress, black tights, and boots to match. After a quick check up on his face and hair, Leroy grabbed two boxes from the cooler and waved goodbye to the maids, deciding to meet up with the other bluenette instead of waiting.

At least, that was the plan, until someone randomly hugged him from behind.

“.. Keith, I literally almost slammed these boxes into your face.”

“I can’t help iiiit!” The perpetrator, Keith, couldn’t help but snicker at Leroy’s slight annoyance. Even with the almost attempted threat, he didn’t let go until he gave Leroy a bigger squeeze. He then swerved in front of Leroy, taking the boxes and grinning the biggest child-like smile. “You’re the most huggable person ever to exist! Plus, you came out right as I was turning the corner, so it was too perfect of a time to getcha from behind!”

Leroy huffed at Keith’s immaturity and flicked his forehead, getting a “Beep!” in response. “I know, but I still prefer if you make some sort of noise before hugging from behind, just to let me know it’s you. That’s what a gentleman does.” Although he wanted to stay stern, Leroy felt himself falter a bit once he heard Keith’s depressed “bee…” It was hard to stay mad at him, so he smiled and kissed the spot he flicked. “I guess, to make up for that spook, you can carry those treats, and lead me to the broadcast. It’s going to start soon, isn’t it? Just be careful while carrying those. They might mess up if you move too wildly.”

Keith’s bunny ears popped up (he was no longer in his bunny outfit, and was instead in an oversized hoodie, loose shirt, and baggy pants, but his ears can still magically appear out of habit), and he smiled bright again, nodding eagerly. “It’s gonna be so cool! I heard Oreo’s letting three different people challenge him at once! I wonder if they’re gonna be able to beat him– Oh!” 

A bright light beamed up to the sky, and multiple holographic tv screens opened up, facing various angles for everyone around to see. A Spade Symbol flew around the air before transforming into a young looking robotic teen in bright blue. “Heya! Howdy! Hello! Can everyone hear me nice and clear???” They shouted, floating speakers projecting their voice, hover boots keeping them afloat. “It’s Chiyo, back at it again with the intense, blood-pumping, super ultra epic commentary for the game of the day! We have a SPECIAL challenge today, as we have not ONE, not TWO, but THREE CHALLENGERS! Let’s see if any of them can take the throne from our beloved 3 of Spades: OREO!!” 

“It’s starting! Lemme get a thingy!” Keith balanced the boxes with one hand while the other multi tapped his earrings, and not a minute later did a Servant appear in front of them, inside a hovering convertible- like car. It opened the door and helped the two inside, before driving to the sky, heading to a roof with the best view. 

Being able to fly in such a fancy car was a luxury few had access to, and the two Trump Cards always took advantage of it to get the best views of the city. The Servant parked and awaited its next orders, but the two weren’t focused on that. Their eyes stayed glued to the screen, seeing their Leader and the three competitors sit apart from one another, their cards showing only on screen, next to their profiles. The first competitor’s profile had him look confident yet cocky. The second looked very serious, glaring at the screen. The third couldn’t hide their nervousness she must’ve felt when entering. And the Leader..

“Oreo has the best poker face ever, I swear.” Keith whistled. It probably helped the neutral appearance since Oreo’s hat and hair covered his eyes, but the constant smile he had threw people off everytime. Was he actually happy? Was he plotting something? Was he hiding anger or frustration? Nobody could ever know.. Except for his Trump Cards, and that was honestly the best power yet. “Do you think those three are actually gonna work together to take Oreo down?” Keith asked Leroy. “I feel like that’s the only way they’d win.”

“It would..” Leroy shook his head, “But I don’t think they will. Even if they followed through and managed to beat him, they’d still have to decide who the Leader would be. Look at their faces too.” Leroy pointed up to the screen. While Oreo was difficult to read, the competitors wore their thoughts right on their sleeves, eyes shifting between one another. “It’s not just about beating Oreo; they want to be the Tycoon in the end because it may guarantee their spot as Leader. I doubt any of them would want to be Cards, if the Tycoon were to actually offer that. Their clouded goals are going to keep them from winning..”

Leroy looked over to Keith, and was startled by the stars sparkling in the bunny’s eyes. He felt his face heat up from the stare, which he quickly shook his head and stared back at the screen. He missed Oreo win the first round, and the second round was about to start. Dammit, he was usually good at hiding his surprise.. “Th-that’s just what I noticed. I could be wrong, though!” he stuttered, twirling a curl in his hair in embarrassment. “You.. aren’t looking at the screen, Keith–”

“Leroy, you’re so friggin cool!” Keith interrupted, unintentionally making the car shake from his bouncing. “You’ve gotten so good at reading people’s expressions! That’s really important when playing games like this! I need to work harder to catch up to you two!” He smiled genuinely, which made Leroy’s cheeks heat up more. 

Not like the compliments upset Leroy.. In fact, it made him really, REALLY happy. Caving into the good feeling, he leaned his head against Keith’s shoulder, who instantly adjusted to make sure they were both comfortable. They’ve been working together for over a year now, yet the positive attention he would get from Keith.. It always made Leroy’s chest flutter. 

“Keith..” Leroy whispered, “.. Oreo’s gonna win this, right?”

“Heh heh, of course he is.” Keith nodded. “I bet my everything on it.”

They both looked up to the screen. Oreo won the second round. Just one more round left, and the only way he could lose is if second place beat him. He had a hand full of pairs, a 4 stack to start a revolution, and a 3 of Spades; his signature card.

“Yeah.. I don’t doubt he’ll win, too.” Leroy smiled. “Good.. I get to stay as a Card with you.”    

- - - - -

“Th-This is bullshit! How’d you have that good of a hand every time?! You fuckin’ cheated somehow!”

“I knew trying to work with you two was a mistake.. Why did you guys lie about your hands?! You guys never played the cards that I needed you to play in order to win! We just had to beat him, remember?!”

“N-No.. I-I don’t want to die.. Please don’t kill me, please!!”

“Are you three done?”

“!!!”

“I don’t cheat in my games. I’ve never had to, I never will. I told you guys that you could work together to beat me, but you couldn’t even manage that. All you had to do was try to beat me, that’s all. But you each wanted to be the Tycoon. To be honest.. That was a bit boring. I’ll figure out what to do with you three later~”

With a loud snap, each competitor was escorted by a Servant, all yelling, cursing, and crying the way out.

“Sigh.. Keith and Leroy should be home soon. Mmm, they made donuts today, I believe. I need a treat sooo bad.”

W h o o o o o o . . . .

The “hat” tugs on his arm. 

“Hmm.. you sensed it too, didn’t you, Namu? Something’s coming.. I can’t wait to see what we have in store today~♤”

[maria021015]

SPOILERS FOR CHAPTER 21 AHEAD!

“Are you gonna apologize to Allison or what?” Stiles finally addressed the elephant in the room, and Zaida was simply grateful it didn’t have to be her to say something about it first.

“Why should I apologize?” Scott grumbled, his attitude a stark difference from his usual self. Zaida waited for Stiles to give the boy a rational explanation why. What she wasn’t expecting was what he actually said.

“Because you're the guy! It's, like, what we do.” Stiles exclaimed and that earned him another whack to the arm from the brunette.

“Really? So, when you apologize to me, is it just to get you out of my bad books?” She raised a brow in a challenge, and he shook his head rapidly.

“What? No! Of course not.” He laughed nervously and she rolled her eyes at him.

“But I didn't do anything wrong,” Scott interjected, and Zaida scrunched her nose at the boy, knowing that he kind of did. He focused on nursing his drink, trying to ignore them.

“Then you should definitely apologize. See, any time a guy thinks he hasn't done anything wrong; it means he's definitely done something wrong.” Stiles continued with his advice.

“Okay, this time you’re actually right.” She yielded and nodded in agreement.

“I'm not apologizing.” Scott denied petulantly and now Zaida decided it was time for her to step in.

“Scott, you totally bit her head off the other night. She was stressed and trying to save lives, and the only reason she went to her family is because you kept her in the dark when you should have told her the truth. Hell, you’re still keeping her in the dark. The only reason I agreed not to say anything about us working with Derek, or her mom trying to kill you, is because I think it needs to come from you - along with a damn good apology.” She snapped at the boy, and before he could retaliate and start an argument with her Stiles stepped in as the intermediary.

“Maybe, could it be the full moon talking, buddy?” He suggested gently and Scott sighed, loosening up a bit.

“Probably.” He admitted. “Why do you guys care, anyway?”

“Because, Scott, something's gotta go right, here! I mean, we're getting our asses royally kicked, if you haven't noticed.” Stiles whisper-shouted dramatically in his exasperation. “People are dying, I got my dad fired, you're gonna be held back in school, I'm in love with a nutjob, and if, on top of that, I gotta watch you lose Allison to a stalker like Matt, I'm gonna stab myself in the face!”

“Please, Matt has no chance.” Zaida wrinkled her nose in disgust at the thought of the boy. She was still hung up on that word that had just come out of Stiles’ mouth - which was ‘love’, not ‘nutjob’. And not just ‘love’, but ’in love’. ‘In love’ was decidedly a lot worse than just ‘love’. She’s always thought that Stiles and Lydia just wouldn’t work out. Maybe in another universe, or a different timeline, but right here and now the pairing just didn’t make sense to her. They were too different and had completely opposite lifestyles. Even though she’d never seen it happening, it had never bothered her as much as it did now. Why? Truth was, she didn’t really know.

“Don't stab yourself in the face,” Scott said quietly, his gaze landing upon something on the other end of the house. “Jackson's here.”

“Great, now I’m going to need a drink,” Stiles scowled, glaring at the boy as he greeted Lydia.

“I’ll come with you,” Zaida moved to follow after the boy who approached the punch table and filled a glass. He handed it to Zaida, before pouring himself some of the pink-hued beverage. “I have to show you something.” She grinned, barely able to contain her excitement as she dipped a finger into her drink and her eyes fluttered shut. He started to speak, but she hushed him and poured her focus into feeling the water within the drink. The buzzing against her skin didn’t feel as strong as it had when she was surrounded by water in the bath, but the connection was strong enough that she was able to pull from herself and push energy into the drink. When she opened her eyes and removed her finger, Zaida tipped the cup towards Stiles so he could see the partially frozen liquid sloshing about inside.

“Wha…” His mouth opened and shut as he struggled to find words as his amber eyes widened to a comically large size. “How did you…When did you…? Awesome!”

“Looks like our training has paid off,” Her painted lips spread into a broad and giddy smile at his flabbergasted reaction. Stiles stared at her with a blank expression of wonderment for a moment before he swiftly went in for a hug, circling his arms are her waist and then lifting and spinning her before setting her back down on her feet. Zaida’s stomach fluttered from the motion, and she squealed in surprise. When he pulled away, he took her face in between his hands.

“You are amazing! I knew you could do it!” He praised her efforts excitedly and his reaction only fuelled her own joy at her accomplishment. He broke his contact with her to step back awkwardly and beam.

“It’s not much, but if I keep at it I’m sure I can do so much more.” Her cheeks flushed from his compliments, or was it the heat of standing below the strings of lights? “Thank you. For helping me.”

“My Padawan, you will be,” He waddled and spoke in what was obviously an impression and she cringed, shaking her head.

“That sounded nothing like Yoda.” She wrinkled her nose at him, and he clutched his chest, playing at being offended.

“Well, at least you get the reference. Scott still hasn’t watched Star Wars.” He sighed in defeat, taking a long swig of his drink. Then he looked at it, frowning, and held it out to her. “Hey, you think you could do mine? A spiked punch slushy sounds pretty good.”

Zaida rolled her eyes and swapped their cups, letting him take hers. “To solving all the mysteries that need solving.” She raised her cup to meet his in a cheersing motion.

“And to being the best damn detectives in this town,” He nodded in agreement and winked before they both raised their cups to their lips and took a long drink. What were the chances Xander would actually breathalyse her? She figured they were probably slim. Plus, what was one drink going to do?

“Do you wanna dance with me?” Stiles asked her, the music getting louder as some of the new partygoers used the patio around the pool as a dance floor. She nodded and finished off her drink, placing her empty cup on the table and taking his hand to lead him through the growing crowd.