#banking convenience

[rottengurlz]

she’s like if the virgin mary smoked a pack of pall malls every day 🚬

[inthedarktrees]

Twin Peaks: Fire Walk with Me (1992) dir. David Lynch

[luvleyshif4]

for the arranged marriage i sort of pictured to be when cameron development isn’t doing as well and it’s sort of a hail mary for the camerons. like reader comes from a family where her parents have passed she lives with her grandfather( who is a kook and very traditional). readers family is really interested in marrying the camerons for social currency where the cameron’s sort of need it for like stability b/c the public doesn’t know the company isn’t doing as well. idk if this makes sense i feel like i’m just rambling 😭

HAIL MARY

Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Arranged marriage trope, Power dynamics, Mild alcohol use, Family expectations, Parental pressure, miscommunication, slight angst to fluff

Word Count: 1.74k words

Authors Note: HEYY!! bb you’re not rambling at all I instantly understood what you wanted but it still took me a while cause this was kinda new and different for me to write so if it’s not up to your expectations please lemme know!! I tried my best to bring your idea to life and I tried to keep it as a one shot but lemme know if yall want a part 2 and how yall want it to be 😘😘

The wedding was perfect on the surface. Gilded edges on the invitation cards, a floral arrangement that screamed wealth, and guests dressed to the nines.

Your grandfather beamed with pride, his weathered hands gripping your arm as he walked you down the aisle. Rafe stood at the altar, his expression unreadable, though his posture was impeccable. He looked good in his tailored suit—too good. The kind of good that made you resent him a little, because he seemed untouched by the weight of what this marriage meant.

To the guests, this was a union of two prestigious Kook families. But you and Rafe knew the truth. Cameron Development needed the stability your family’s name could bring, and your grandfather sought to tie your future to theirs in a calculated move for relevance.

As you recited your vows, your voice steady despite the storm inside you, Rafe’s gaze met yours. For a fleeting moment, you thought you saw something—hesitation, vulnerability, or maybe even guilt.

But then it was gone, replaced by the practiced charm of a man who knew how to play his part.

When the officiant pronounced you husband and wife, Rafe leaned in, brushing a featherlight kiss on your cheek instead of your lips.

Polite. Distant. Just enough to make the crowd cheer.

~~~

You awoke the next morning to sunlight streaming through the massive windows of the Cameron estate. The bed was cold beside you; Rafe hadn’t spent the night.

Not that you expected him to.

You sighed, slipping out of bed and wrapping a silk robe around yourself. The house was quiet, the kind of stillness that felt oppressive. You padded down to the kitchen, where Rose was already bustling about, her morning routine as polished as ever.

“Oh, good morning, sweetheart,” she greeted, her smile a little too bright. “How was your first night?”

You hesitated, not wanting to admit that it had been lonely. “It was fine,” you said instead, grabbing a glass of water.

Before Rose could probe further, Rafe strolled in, looking effortlessly put-together despite the early hour.

“Sleep well?” he asked, his tone light but devoid of real interest as he turned to you.

“Like a dream,” you replied dryly.

Rafe smirked, clearly catching your sarcasm. But instead of biting back, he gestured toward the doorway. “Walk with me?”

~~~

The two of you wandered down to the beach, the ocean breeze ruffling Rafe’s perfectly styled hair. You stayed a step behind him, unsure what this was supposed to be.

“So,” he began, shoving his hands into his pockets. “You hate this as much as I do?”

You blinked, caught off guard by his bluntness. “I wouldn’t say I hate it,” you replied carefully. “But it’s not exactly what I imagined for my life.”

Rafe nodded, kicking at a pebble. “Yeah, me neither.”

For a moment, the only sound was the crash of waves against the shore.

“Look,” Rafe said finally, turning to face you. “I know this isn’t ideal, but we’re stuck with it. So, maybe we should try to make it… less miserable?”

You crossed your arms, eyeing him skeptically. “How do you suggest we do that?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted, shrugging. “We could start by not pretending to hate each other.”

You raised an eyebrow. “I don’t hate you, Rafe. I just don’t know you.”

His smirk faltered, and for once, he looked almost vulnerable. “Fair enough,” he said. “Guess we’ll have to fix that.”

~~~

Over the next few days, Rafe made an effort—or at least, he pretended to. He showed up to meals on time, asked you about your day, and even cracked a few jokes that made you laugh despite yourself.

But it wasn’t all smooth sailing. Rafe’s temper flared at the smallest things—a missed call from his dad, a deal that fell through—and you quickly learned to give him space when he needed it.

One evening, after yet another tense family dinner, you found him in the study, nursing a glass of whiskey.

“You know,” you said, leaning against the doorway, “if you keep brooding like that, people might think you actually care about something.”

Rafe looked up, his lips curving into a tired smile. “Funny.”

You stepped inside, sitting across from him. “Seriously, though. What’s wrong?”

He hesitated, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. “Just… the usual. My dad breathing down my neck, trying to keep everything from falling apart.”

You frowned. “You mean the company?”

Rafe’s jaw tightened, and he didn’t answer. But his silence said enough.

“I’m not blind, Rafe,” you said softly. “I know why this marriage happened.”

He looked at you then, his eyes filled with something you couldn’t quite place. “And you’re okay with that?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know if ‘okay’ is the right word. But I understand it.”

Rafe leaned back, studying you. “You’re not what I expected.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What did you expect?”

“Someone like my dad,” he admitted. “Cold, calculating. All business.”

You smiled faintly. “Well, sorry to disappoint.”

“Don’t be,” he said with a smile matching yours, his voice quieter. “It’s a good thing.”

~~~

The gala had been like every other event since your marriage, carefully orchestrated, polite smiles, and an unspoken agreement to keep up appearances. You played the part of the poised wife, and Rafe was the picture of composed charm. But tonight, something felt different. He was quieter, more distracted, his usual effortless confidence replaced with something… uncertain.

When the evening finally ended, Rafe lingered near the doorway as you said goodbye to the last guests. His gaze followed you, his jaw tight. You caught it in your periphery, but before you could ask, he motioned toward the garden.

“Come with me,” he said softly, his voice lacking its usual edge.

You hesitated only for a moment before following him into the cool night air. The garden was bathed in soft moonlight, the distant sound of waves blending with the gentle rustle of leaves. It felt like a world away from the ballroom.

Rafe stopped abruptly, shoving his hands into his pockets. He glanced at you, then quickly looked away, as though second-guessing why he’d brought you out here in the first place.

“What is it?” you asked, stepping closer, your arms brushing against each other.

For a moment, he didn’t answer. His gaze flicked to the ground, then back to you. “I don’t really know,” he admitted, his voice quiet. “I just… I needed to talk to you.”

“Okay,” you said gently, your heart fluttering at the vulnerability in his tone. “About what?”

He let out a breath, running a hand through his hair. “About us.”

The words hung between you, their weight undeniable.

“What about us?” you asked, your voice soft but steady.

“I don’t know,” he repeated, his shoulders tense. “This thing we have… this marriage… it’s not what I thought it’d be.” His voice wavered, the confidence you’d always associated with him nowhere to be found. “You’re not what I thought you’d be.” He said for the second time in your marriage.

“You already said that though,” you murmured, your voice steady.

“I know, I just…” He trailed off, his jaw tightening as if searching for words that wouldn’t come. Silence hung between you, heavy and unfamiliar, until he finally exhaled sharply and looked away.

You tilted your head, studying him. “Well is that a good thing or a bad thing?” You said after a while.

“I think it’s a good thing,” he murmured, his eyes darting to yours before quickly looking away. “But it’s confusing….. You make me feel things I don’t know how to handle…. And I…i think about you more than I should. About us. What we are. What we could be.”

Your breath hitched. His honesty, his hesitance—it wasn’t like anything you’d ever seen from him. Slowly, you took a step closer, your voice barely above a whisper. “You don’t have to have all the answers right now, Rafe….”

He laughed softly, a self-deprecating sound. “I don’t have any answers,” he admitted, his hand twitching at his side.

You reached out, your fingers brushing his arm, grounding him. “Then don’t overthink it,” you said.

Rafe’s gaze dropped to where your hand lingered, then back to your face. His eyes softened, and for a moment, he looked at you like you were the only person in the world. He opened his mouth to say something, then hesitated.

“What?” you asked, stepping even closer.

He swallowed, his voice tentative, almost shy. “I want to…. Can I….” He said as his gaze fell on your lips….

As hesitant as he might have seemed, he sent your heart racing. You stared at him, his expression almost boyish in its uncertainty, and something in you broke.

“Please….” you whispered, your voice trembling with the weight of all the feelings you hadn’t caught on to yet, or hadn’t dared to name until now.

That one word was all it took. The hesitation melted from his face, replaced with something deeper, something more certain. His hand cupped your face, his thumb brushing your cheek as he leaned in.

The kiss was slow at first, tentative, like he was still testing the waters. But as you kissed him back, all the tension, all the uncertainty, seemed to dissolve. His other hand found your waist, pulling you closer, and the kiss deepened, taking on a desperate, unspoken intensity.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, and his lips hovered just a breath away. His hand still cradled your face, his thumb tracing soft patterns on your cheek.

“Was that okay?” he asked, his voice rough and uncertain again, though his lips quirked in a small, nervous smile.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, shaking your head in disbelief. “More than okay,” you murmured, your fingers curling into the fabric of his blazer.

Rafe exhaled a laugh of his own, his tension finally breaking. He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his gaze filled with something raw and unspoken.

“Wanna try again?” he asked, his voice quieter now, his smile more sure.

Your heart fluttered as you nodded with a shy smile.

“Please,” you said again, and this time, the word carried no hesitation.

He didn’t wait this time, capturing your lips with his again, and the kiss felt like a promise—a quiet, unspoken vow that things between you would never be the same.

[deadpcnned]

Sealed by the Storm (jj.m)

chapter one

pairing: jj maybank x reader; marriage of convenience

content warning(s): none, just angst

author's note: first chapter! i didn't expect it all to be in jj's pov lol. PLEASE read the author's note here, but i want to reiterate that this fic is canon-compliant up until season 4, ep. 5. for example, in this chapter we learn there are still a few days before the court hearing regarding the maybank property. this story will not be canon-compliant from this chapter onwards!

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JJ can feel the air in his lungs running out, and the pressure from the wind and rain around him only speeds up the process. He’ll have to stop running soon; his endurance can only last so long, but until then, he needs to run. Run away from the lighthouse that Luke is maybe still shouting from. Run away from the lies. Run away from his remaining hope for the man who raised him — if you can call it that. 

JJ’s on autopilot, not having to think about where he’ll go. He’s always known where his feet take him in these moments of desperation. The place has changed, ironically from the Chateau to the place he used to run from, but the reason has stayed the same. The people have stayed the same. Still, he can’t think straight. The pinching feeling in his chest is growing, and he knows what’s next. The pinch will get tighter until it feels like his weight has collapsed on itself, landing right on his weak heart. Usually, the pressure builds quickly. Right now, though, it’s a slow build. Those are always the worst. Sometimes, when the build is slow and sneaky, the pain doesn’t go away until the next day. 

He can’t let it stop him right now, though. Not until he’s back at the shop with the other Pogues. It’s probably not much longer before he’ll reach the boat that will take him where he wants to be, needs to be. It doesn’t ease the pressure in his chest, but it clears his mind a bit. It lets him think just a little longer about what’s next. He’ll drive it as quickly as he can and head straight to the Pogues, then tell them what happened. They’ll help him. He knows they will. 

As he steps onto the boat and starts to undock, the rain still falling steadily, he thinks of what the Pogues are probably doing right now. Wait. No, no, no. 

They’re not home, not all of them, at least. The Pogues had gone to follow the clues left behind regarding Blackbeard’s treasure, but Kiara was home. She was there alone, waiting just for him, to make sure he didn’t get in any trouble he couldn’t get out of. That should’ve been enough. Knowing Kiara would be there should’ve made his path clearer, like the break of dawn in the dark, rainy night surrounding him. Yet, it is as if his hands move without permission, turning him away from his intended path. JJ turns the boat around, buying himself time before he eventually makes it back to the surf shop. For now, he just needed to think. The solitude would do him some good, let him think about the lies Luke had just tried to sell him. JJ could handle this.

He hadn’t expected to return the next day, but whenever JJ thought he was closer to driving the boat home, he’d start to reel again. He didn’t want to go back to the Pogues at the height of his emotional turmoil, especially when what Luke said was no doubt bullshit. His friends don’t have parents who are in the running for some Parent of the Year award — well, maybe Pope— but they also don’t have Luke Maybank as a parent. Their parents could be murderers and treasure hunt junkies, but they loved their children. The worst of them still took his last breaths for his daughter. Forget loving him; Luke’s only thoughts regarding JJ were about how he could get his next crash gab. He was willing to give away his title as JJ’s dad at the first opportunity of something better. It’s embarrassing– humiliating to let them see just how unloved he is by his father. 

“JJ, where have you been?” JJ’s eyes meet Kiara’s as she stands up from where she is crouching in her garden. JJ looks away, training his gaze on the crops surrounding them. He can still remember how excited Kie was when she started the garden. She had spent an entire smoke sesh sprouting predictions about how far each crop would come within a three-year timeline. Now, he doesn’t even know if she’d be able to see the results of her hard work or if some Kooks would bulldoze the whole thing in a few weeks. JJ cringes, looking back to Kie. It’s easier to look at her than their withering dreams. 

“Long story,” He mumbles. “Where are the others?” 

“Almost here, why? What happened?” JJ suppresses his groan at her questioning. He knew his lies never got past her, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t still try. 

“Nothing, Kie,” His insistence is met with a deadpan look. 

“Don’t lie to me.”

“It…” JJ runs his hand through his hair, jaw clenching. This is the part of the conversation he was dreading most, admitting that Luke was back and he never even told him. Somehow, the fact that Luke didn’t find it worth telling JJ he was back on the island was worse than the lies he had spun. “Doesn’t matter. It’s just my dad.” Dad. 

“Oh shit. He’s back?”

“Yep,” JJ does his best to hide how badly this affects him. Whether it’s believable or not, he doesn’t know. “He’s been holding up at Barracuda Mike’s, I guess.”

“JJ…” 

“Don’t,” JJ says, putting a hand up. “I don’t wanna talk about it.” 

JJ lets the silence stretch between them, debating his next words. How can he say this without sounding like he’s gone too far off the rails this time?

“He…uh…” Kie moves closer, watching her step as she approaches JJ.

“Yeah?”

“He… told me he wasn’t my real dad,” Kiara looks at JJ for a second, which feels much too long before she smirks at him.

“You wish,” It does feel like a cruel joke, but even if it’s a lie, Luke wasn’t trying to be humorous. 

“Kie, it wasn’t a joke. Like, he was being…I don’t know what he was being, but,” JJ trails off, reaching into his pocket. He pulls out the crumpled letter he has been turning over in his hands every couple of hours since he received it. 

“I got this,” JJ mumbles, waving the letter in his trembling hands. Unfolding the letter haphazardly, JJ extends it for Kiara to take. Kiara wipes her hands against her shorts again before taking the letter.

The sound of grass crunching underfoot pulls both their gazes toward an approaching figure. You step into view, your expression calm but with the slightest arch of a brow. You hold an apple in one hand, idly passing it to the other.

“What’s that?” You ask, your gaze trained on the letter Kie has yet to read. JJ reaches out and snatches the letter back from Kie’s hands, stuffing it in his pocket again.

“Nothin’,” JJ replies, his tone clipped. Your gaze lingers on JJ’s pocket as you take a bite of your apple. In response, you simply hum and let your gaze trail back to JJ’s. Looking between the two girls,  JJ searches for a way to avoid any more discussion. “You two didn’t go with the others?” He directs the question to Kiara even though he knows she stayed behind.

“Kie said she was gonna wait for you, so I decided to stay back with her. In case she needed backup,” You shrug. 

“Backup for sitting in a garden?” 

“Backup for whatever trouble you’d inevitably bring back. Guess I called that one.” You nod your head at JJ’s pocket, your tone sharp but not necessarily unkind. Still, it’s a sharp contrast to the usual warmth you show the others. JJ feels that familiar itch of irritation crawl up his spine, igniting something raw within him. It always seems to happen when you are around him lately, like you merely exist to remind him of every single one of his shortcomings. 

 “You figure out whatever was more important than helping us?” you add. 

Two years ago, JJ couldn’t have imagined he’d feel this way about you. This tension hadn’t always existed between the two of you, not until a few months ago. You had been with Cleo and their ship captain, Terrance since you were 14, which meant that you’d been with Cleo when helping John B and Sarah try to retrieve the Royal Merchant gold in the Bahamas. When it came time to decide if their alliance would shift to something more, you’d turned to Cleo for guidance. It was Cleo who decided that you two would join the Pogues from that point onwards.  

When you and Cleo had first joined them on Poguelandia, it had been a wonder how effortlessly you fit in with their unconventional family. You and JJ may not have had the same heartfelt bond that was cultivated over years of knowing one another, but you and he had shared many laughs, just the two of you. Those laughs didn’t feel like they meant much at the time, but he would find himself clinging to those memories like a lifeline– a reminder that you didn’t always look at him with such disfavor. 

JJ always thought you were funny in a way that went under the radar – a quiet, cutting kind of humor. You’d let out a sarcastic comment under your breath or give a look that had impeccable comedic timing. JJ was often the only person to catch these little moments, and in return, he’d get a small smirk. You were still funny, still fun, but it was like any time JJ was near you, you lost the ability to pretend you didn’t hate him. Your smile would disappear when he’d try to make a joke or suggest an activity for the group to do, albeit those suggestions were usually a little reckless.  He understood that he wasn’t anyone’s favorite person right now, but he didn’t understand why it seemed like you had a personal grudge against him. Now, every look you give him feels like judgment he can’t escape, and every word seems calculated to remind him of how much he’s messed up. Can’t a man make a few mistakes without being chased with metaphorical pitchforks? Jesus. 

Since Terrance’s death, you had been reeling. Your version of reeling, at least. Turning in on yourself, withdrawing from everyone else. You had seemed like a shell of the person he had come to know. At this moment, you seem to be doing better, and JJ is relieved to see it. It didn’t matter what was happening between them; if a Pogue was in pain, JJ felt it. But he isn’t relieved enough to be glad he is at the receiving end of the anger that had started to become far too familiar. 

“Yeah,” JJ rolled his eyes, turning away from you. “Something like that.” If you were going to say something, you never got the chance because just then, the Pogues are pulling in with the Twinkie. JJ looks towards Kiara, widening his eyes as if to say ‘Keep this a secret, please?” Kiara furrows her brows, clearly not receiving the message, and looks to you to see if you understand. JJ groans and looks back at you. Seeming to get the message, you snort and roll your eyes.

“Relax. I’m going,” You say before walking towards the other Pogues as they get out of the Twinkie. 

“Can we, uh…not tell them,” JJ sighs, looking back to see if the Pogues would be able to hear him from where they are gathered. “I mean, I just don’t want them to know how far Luke would actually go. You know, to get some cash.” Kiara nods, giving him a small smile.

“Another one of our little secrets?” JJ smirks, nodding in agreement. He takes one more glance behind him before stepping closer to whisper his next words.

“A secret for the streets and a secret for the sheets,” JJ winks, causing Kiara to groan at the cliche and JJ to burst out laughing. Suddenly, a blur of blonde hair speeds past JJ and Kiara, knocking JJ’s shoulder as it goes.

“What’s wrong with Sarah?” JJ asks, turning to find Pope walking closer to him.

“Rat swarm,” Pope says, a dazed look in his eyes as he follows Sarah inside. 

Rat swarm?

“The weirdest part is other people were looking for the same thing we were looking for,” Pope’s movements are animated and his voice passionate as he recalls what he and Sarah saw in the catacomb. JJ’s trying his best to push the past twenty-four hours out of his thoughts and focus on his friends, but he keeps catching himself thinking, ‘What next?’ on a never-ending loop. 

“I hate that I missed that,” He hears Kie say, but he’s not sure what she’s referring to exactly. His absentmindedness is why he takes a minute too long to respond when John B directs a question to him. 

“Where’d you ghost off to, big guy?” John B asks, his expression a mix between expectant and worried. JJ stands up from where he’s slumped against the railing, turning to look at Kiara to make sure she’s not about to give anything away. But as he turns to look at Kie, he catches you staring at him. You’ve been looking at him oddly for the past twenty minutes that you’ve all been gathered on the patio, but he figured you were just at your wit's ends with him again. Now, your expression is suddenly intensified, and you look at him like you know something. But that’s impossible. 

Looking at you, he replies, “Oh, I was, uh… just trying to help out the team. Quick cash grab. Yeah.” His voice seems a bit lost as he explains, but he shrugs and clears his throat. “But the plan fell through ‘cause it was Barracuda Mike.” 

“As much as I’d hate to hear JJ tell us that story,” He hears you cut in, not a trace of your previous insight left for anyone to see. “We need to talk about the zoning hearing. It’s in a few days.” Was your frustration real, or were you covering for him?

“Anyone got any ideas?” Cleo asks, walking to sit next to Pope. 

“Oh, yeah, let me just study up on real estate–” Pope’s quip is silenced by a single look shot at him by Cleo. “Sorry.” 

JJ hears you chuckle at that, and he smiles as he looks at you. You’re generous with your laughs as long as JJ isn’t involved, but they’re always genuine when you’re watching Cleo and Pope interact. He remembers you once told him something was healing about watching Cleo and Pope together, but he’d never gotten the chance to ask you what that meant. 

“How about we call people,” John B suggests, ever the leader. “The whole island’s pissed about what they’ve been doing. We get everybody over there, pack the house, and rally the troops.” 

“More the merrier,” JJ nods. “I could get the surf squad out there. From the beach.” 

And just like that, the Pogues are all brainstorming how they can help and who they can call. JJ hears Kiara mention something about Rafe Cameron, but he still feels a swell of hope as he thinks about all the Pogues on the island showing up to fight for the shop. He’s mistrusting of hope because of what it inevitably leads to, but he always falls for it. That low thrum seems to course through his veins and grows with each passing moment. That feeling is like the antithesis of when he feels his heart pinch. It’s better than any drugs or alcohol that he usually uses as a mask for his darkest thoughts. It also has a worse crash down to reality than both combined. 

Unfortunately, it seems he won’t be experiencing the full high of hope because as the group disperses to handle their individual tasks, the last person he’d expect to willingly talk to him is standing in front of him.

“Um, yes?” JJ tilts his head at you, who’s bouncing slightly on your feet. That’s odd. You're a very collected person, more in control of your emotions than the average person. You’re so much like Cleo in that way which makes sense considering the upbringing you’ve had. So, to see you in obvious distress about something is far from normal. “You okay?”

“Yeah…” You nod, but as JJ makes a move to sidestep you, you step backward, blocking his exit. “JJ, I made a mistake.” Okay… but why are you coming to him?

“What happened?” You lift your hand, which he didn’t notice you were holding behind your back until now, and reveal a crumpled piece of paper. A very familiar crumpled piece of paper. JJ’s hand flies to his left pocket where he thought Wes Genrette’s letter was safely tucked away. 

“How…?” 

“Are you really asking me that?” Your eyebrow arches because everyone knows you’re neck and neck with Cleo for best pickpocket. It’s almost funny, but really it’s not. JJ clenches his jaw, snatching the letter from you. He needs to leave. 

“JJ, wait,” You block his exit again, and JJ huffs, taking multiple steps away from you. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was personal.”

“You didn’t know a letter I clearly did not want you to read was personal? Really?” JJ’s just grateful that no one else is at the shop right now, and he can be as pissed as he wants. “How dare you take this from me?”

“I had to make sure.” JJ doesn’t have to ask you what you mean by that. You had to make sure it wasn’t something else he’d drop on all of your heads when they were already so far under the water. 

“Huh,” JJ gives a mirthless chuckle, shaking his head. “You had to make sure I didn’t fuck up.” You look away, but you don’t attempt to convince him otherwise. You take a moment before straightening your posture and facing him head-on. 

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have read it, and I should’ve trusted you enough to know what was worth sharing and what wasn’t.” He knows you mean it, that you truly are sorry. 

“Whatever,” JJ never claimed to be a mature guy. 

“Okay…” 

“Alright.” JJ waits a minute, and when he hopes the conversation is finally over, he starts to leave. But what’d he say about hope? You inevitably crash down.

“For what it’s worth,” JJ sighs, looking over his shoulder at you. “I think you should talk to him.” When JJ doesn’t respond, you clarify, “To Groff.”

JJ turns towards you, a chill running down his spine. “You do?” JJ’s compass for good ideas is in dire need of calibration, but even he feels that is obviously not a good idea.

“Yeah. You deserve to know if he’s your… or if Genrette was off base.” 

“I think we both know that he’s way off base.” JJ’s arms cross with an air of nonchalance that doesn’t suit him. “Why bother asking?” 

You purse your lips in thought like you’re debating whether to say what she’s thinking. He’s not sure what you decide because all you say before patting him on the shoulder and leaving is:

“Maybe. But whatever you decide, don’t do it alone.”

[sexhaver]

i've been listening to Not Like Us on repeat since it dropped and it's blowing me away how catchy it is. it's so unbelievably funny that he pulled DJ Mustard out of semi-retirement for this

[potatoes-tomatoes]

my brand is drawing characters that are so eepi 🙃

[pastelchad]

Sekaiichi hatsukoi is so much fun bc the tyrannical boss who takes their job way too seriously and the new employee who doesn’t know a damn thing is such a relatable concept and you can plop the entire cast into whatever au you want and it would still work just as well

[river-of-wine]

Replaying RDR2! It’s Molly time

[neechees]

Tricked & coerced into watching my niblings again.

[pilonciillo]

lol didn’t think someone giving money would give me anxiety

[coyoxxtl]

when people say falin had “pretty girl privilege” with how people treated her autism are insane like, she wasnt at that magic school by choice, she was sent there by her father because everyone in their community shunned her. and when she was there everyone but marcille thought she was a weirdo and didn’t fuck with her so, literally what are y’all talking about

[bimdraws]

I am queer for Palestine because bombing Gaza also kills LGBT+ Palestinians. The bombs and the IDF won't stop and ask you if you are gay.

I'm queer for Palestine because my support of human rights isn't just for people who agree with me. I don't want homophobes to die.

I'm queer for Palestine because homophobia is everywhere and flat out genocide would never solve that. Are you seriously arguing that it's morally justified to bomb every "homophobic country" on Earth? Because we wouldn't be left with much.

I'm queer for Palestine because I've been listening to queer voices in Palestine.

I'm queer for Palestine because there will never be freedom for queer Palestinians without liberation for all Palestinians.

I'm queer for Palestine because I refuse to engage in racist portrayals of another ethnic group by colonizers.

I'm queer for Palestine because there's no safe zone in Gaza anymore and I can't be comfortable with that as thousands of people, men, women, children, have died and will continue to do so under Israeli regime.

[theladyofshalott1989]

Hogtober, Day 18: Gringotts

On Monday, Sebastian and Damien arrived at Diagon Alley early, allowing for the possibility that Ominis might be able to slip away sooner than expected.

Sebastian's anticipation was palpable; he was apprehensive about seeing Ominis, torn between the desire to hear about Anne's worsening condition and an instinctive aversion to facing the grim reality. It was a perplexing mix of emotions, as though avoiding the news from Ominis somehow kept the harsh truth that she may be dying at bay.

Ominis hadn’t arrived yet. Damien sat on the ground, leaning against the impressive white marble facade of Gringotts while Sebastian paced.

“How do you suppose Ominis will get here? And how will he get around?” Damien asked, glancing up at Sebastian, his hand shielding his eyes from the blazing sun.

“Floo, I’m sure. I think he’s mentioned before that his fireplace has a connection to Diagon Alley.”

“That’s convenient.”

“Very.”

⭐ Ch. 25 ("Diagon Alley") from "Book Two: Burning Bright" on [AO3] and [Wattpad]

[tideswept]

i may be cheating going for a second word in the wip game! i may be a roguish internet maverick. choose whichever prompt you will, but my second request is "scream"

! darn. The only scream I have in the WIP mines is one I already posted. :( (and of course it was Obi-Wan screaming in agony, of course.)

but as you've been a very brave maverick, I will choose a new word for you. And that word is--(multiple sources whisper urgently in my ear) bath, because I know you got it, and let's--

Oh. Oh.

From the camboy Obikin AU! (aka, 20 year old Anakin tries to do Only Fans)

---

It was getting late. Do-or-die time.

Anakin twisted the doorknob, making sure it was locked, and tucked a towel around the door gap to muffle as much noise as possible. Ahsoka walking to her room didn't need to hear what he was up to.

The warm glow of a bedside lamp cast hazy shadows on the walls, illuminating but not revealing everything. He thought it made his skin glow, showing off all the sunbathing he’d done over the summer while working outside.

He tugged his shirt off, throwing it to the side. He lifted the laptop from the desk, bringing it over to the bed.

For a moment, he considered the sheets, then tugged them off, letting them flutter to the floor. They were Egyptian cotton, so pricey that he’d protested to Obi-Wan that they’d get ruined just from the piss-poor quality of the water at school, but Obi-Wan had merely promised to buy another set if that happened.

This was the problem with rich people, Anakin groused. They couldn't appreciate things the way someone growing up with nothing but the clothes on his back did. He was not about to ruin his costly sheets by getting them soaked in lube. And other liquids.

But primarily lube.