#doesn't give a shit about her secret identity? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

raytoelicker · 3 days ago

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xvii. wut i liek abt u (written work)

Your phone blared, raucous sounds treading through the halls of airy tiles. For fuck’s sake, you are horrendously late for that 1:1 Meeting you were supposed to arrive five fucking minutes ago.

Reason for your current horrible tardiness, whatsoever?

Scaramouche.

You have no fucking idea why or how you once thought that it'd be all fucking sunshines and rainbows when the notion of being friends with him was presented to you like it was rain to drought. Perhaps, it was by the fact that you've seen him in such odious light for so long that the idea of even seeing him in anything but such gives you..hope?

Was it hope you felt—or relief that you could be somewhat of a semblance resembling that of a friend to him?

Well, whatever you felt three or fuck days ago doesn't matter the fuck now. Because, that Asshole obviously made the conscious and obnoxious decision to.. what? You ask?

Tie your goddamn shoe laces to one of the chairs. Which led you to stumble, face-first, into the scrumptious fucking floor.

Why.

You're so serious, why. At this point, this isn't even innocent rivalry anymore; this is just pure bullying.

(You disregard the numerous occurrences wherein you hung his earphones over the fan, sending it in a spiral as it did its job. Also that one time you tried sweeping him off the feet—not figuratively, shut the fuck up—with a broom, only to backfire and send the both of you to cleaning duty on lunch for three days.)

‘Either way, I'll make sure to put a good motherfucking word on that asshole’s name. Treat him like god, or something. Hell, even Keqing would be surprised. The others better be fucking ready for my goddamn praise for fuck’s sake—’

Okay, deep breaths. One, two, three, four—

“Mom, why is she breathing like that?”

Fucking hell.

–

“So,” Keqing curiously raises her brows, keen eyes flitting to the clock then to you with suspicion, “it's not like you to be late. Nearly 30 minutes at that, as well.”

A placating and apologetic smile rose to your lips, hoping to unease the seething aura that straightened equilibrium is radiating, ‘cause holy shit, I can literally feel how annoyed she is and she looks fucking normal, “I’m sorry. I didn't mean it, truly. It's just that.. you-know-who held me up.”

She blinks, said ‘seething aura’ ebbing away once the secret identity of ‘you-know-who’ dawns on her, and she snickers, “seriously? him again? for someone as brilliant as you, you sure have your short-comings with getting along with some certain people, huh?”

You shrink back in your seat, squirming in displeasure, “don't even mention it.”

An amused smile. Then, she reaches for the chair and pulls it back; all the while bringing the laptop closer, “well, I'm sure we can talk about your problems later. Please assist me on this. It's quite a struggle, if I must admit.

‘Thank fuck she didn't press on,’ you thought, squinting at the bold letters of the headline.

–

It's a good ol’ two hour study session about how The Great Depression fucked the entirety of US because of Donald Trump’s great predecessor; Herbert Fucking Hoover.

It was a great lesson, really. All about stuff like, “why we should always know the importance of having a budget”—which you should definitely lecture Hu tao about; because she sure loves spending money on those coffin keychains that's on sale this month.

Currently, the library is entrancingly washed in that afternoon light as rays of sunlight peeked through the gaps of curtains and painted those beneath it a golden color of stripes and spots. Said library in Teyvat High equated to the library in Sumeru Academy, which is an incredible achievement in itself considering that Sumeru is quite widely known for its adept scholars.

“Mhm, I'll be there soon,” Keqing hummed, stacking her papers as she shifted to maneuver the phone properly between her ear and shoulder, “probably around.. 5:00PM, Is that okay?”

A few more, “yeah,” “okay, okay,” and she hangs up.

An apologetic huff left her lips, “sorry to cut this off, [Name]. Ganyu really needs help with her research paper. Something about.. economics, was it?”

You smiled, “it's fine. I need to go to the café anyway, I have a shift in 30 minutes.”

“Great!” She perked, “I'll get going then.”

“Make sure to tell Ganyu to read newspapers. It'll help!”

Keqing and Ganyu. The proficient duo in the campus; some speculate they're dating, but really, they're just great friends. You wouldn't be surprised if they started dating though. Ms. Ningguang would definitely approve of their relationship.

Sighing, you checked the time before starting to arrange the horrible amount of papers scattered, and god, I still have that maths assignment due on Saturday—which is—fuck! tomorrow? fucking tomorrow!? God, I'm gonna kill myself, I shouldn't have eaten lunch today and finished it at that time instead—

“Wow, you really do mumble.”

You flinched, head haphazardly turning to the source of noise and, what the fuck, is that Childe?

“What are you doing here, Mister..” you subtly squinted, digging through your Long Ass memory collection of titles you memorized out of boredom, “Tartaglia, eleventh of the Role Model Council.”

He rolled his eyes, making a hand slash face gesture of, ‘don't call me by that name, it sounds stupid,’ before pulling out a chair from one of the tables (one wherein Keqing just sat; you narrowed your eyes), “sit down, let's have a talk, shall we?”

Then, as the words flows out of his mouth, a sneaky—akin to that of a fucking fox—grin creeps over to his face, painting the planes of his face into a sharp, eerie image. And, what the fuck. A buzz courses through you; a fucking sign of bad omen.

Tick fucking tock.

‘What the fuck is about to happen to me.’

–

“O..kay, you're telling me,” you exasperatedly pinched your nose, “you want me to go on another date in exchange for another hang-out with the Asshole.”

The Ginger Freak—a title you dubbed to him fifteen minutes ago—beams, illusory cherry flowers blooming at the sides of his bright face, “absolutely! You won't mind coffee, right?”

You mustered up the most blank and deadpanned look you could manage; hopefully radiating waves of hopelessness and what-the-fuck-ness.

He doesn't understand. He doesn't understand how earth-shattering it was for you to bow to the shittiest Asshole in school and lick his boots.

Re: the hang-out was an enormous smack-in-the-ass for your dignity that it stood on equal footing to giving a damn feet-job of your fucking cousin or whatever. It also unlocked a few epiphanies that constantly buzzed in the outer corners of your mind as you studied.

Though, the biggest fat fucking elephant standing in the damn room right now (as wide as the fucking shelves which goes over 15 meters, by the way) is the question that you decide to voice out loud: “Do you actually like me, or are you just setting me and the—..me and Scaramouche up?”

The Ginger Freak tensed, shoulders subtly squaring as the corner of his lips twitched. If you hadn't paid attention, you would've missed it.

A pregnant air settled over the atmosphere, sending chills on your back as you flashed him your customary customer-service smile, “well?”

Another imperceptible twitch in the muscles of his biceps. Then, a ‘damn, you caught me!’ huff.

“Ugh, busted,” he pouted, the sight childish.

An amused snicker, “acting all sly like that differs from the hearsay I've heard from you, you know.”

“‘s that so?”

“Uh huh,” you nodded, raising a brow, “now spill, hurry up.”

The table rattled as he frantically stood up, inadvertently making noise and therefore attracting fucking noise, and holy shit, you're going to duct-fucking-tape this Ginger’s mout—,“another hang-out! Please!”

You blinked, appeasement slowly washing over your face, “okay?”

Another blink, this time, it comes from bright ocean eyes, “yes!”

“Okay, first, sit down,” amusement tugged at the end of your lips; he really did look like a golden retriever, “okay, good. Now, listen to me: why do you want us two to hang out so badly? I mean, it's really coming off.. weird, you know?”

“Is that what it's coming off as?” He inquired innocently, with the tilt and whatnot, “I assure you it's not like that. I'm just worried for him, you know? Pooks is usually left alone in his home, so he often comes over to mine or Furina’s. But nowadays, we've both been busy and the others can't exactly…”

“Give the space he needs?” You finished, ignoring the pet name he casually referred to the biggest Asshole on earth.

“Yep,” he cheerfully snaps his fingers, popping off the ‘p’.

“So, in other words, you want me to be his caretaker.”

“Not like that..”

“Don't give me that look—it sounds exactly like it.”

His cheeriness is as quick to fade as it appeared and he deflates like a balloon, an apologetic pout crawling over his features, “I'm sorry, I shouldn't have burdened you with this.”

…Cute. Gah! Wait, no!

Then, in a fit of Cuteness Crisis, you clumsily sputter out, “No! it's fine, I can totally hang out with the Asshole anytime he wants to! Or.. if you want to—wait, what the fuck am I sayin—”

And before you could even spiral about the careless slip, the table stupidly fucking rattles again, this time; with more noise and more annoyed ‘hushes’ resonating in the air as Childe, the Motherfucking Cute Dickhead, hushedly squeals in a boyishness you find endearing, “great! so great. oh my god, that's so awesome, dude! seriously, thank you!”

There's practically sparkles swimming in the gleams of those lit-up eyes and, fffuuuccckkk, he's so cute and hot, I'm going to fucking scream. Hopefully by the universe above, the infuriating heat that's burning the fat of your cheeks isn't as visible as you think they fucking are because that's really fucking embarrassing.

A fleeting three-minutes passed of shared laughs and giggles, before Childe concerningly pauses.

Keyword: concerningly because the Ginger Freak never pauses like Satan, himself, slurped the soul out of his body for fucking breakfast.

It's only a 3-second warning before a nuclear hits you in the fucking face, all the while shouting, ‘fucking bull’s eye, motherfucker!’ because—

“Wait, are you doing this because you like, like Scaramouche? Serious mode, this time.”

It's also a 3-second moment of stoically staring at him. Point dead in the fucking eye, because, what the fuck did he just say. No, scratch that. What he says next is probably even worse.

“Ah, wait, no. It's okay, I get it. The last hang-out was a date, right?” he smugly winks at the mention of the D-word, probably for another teaspoon of stress to boiling crimson.

And, god. How many insufferable accusations of you having a silly little crush over him will it take before you fucking explode? Because, right now, exactly in this goddamn moment is this one shitty hell of an accusation that is so close to crossing over the gateway to hell.

Deep breaths, one.. two.. three.. “Childe.”

“Hm?”

“Serious mode, as well—please stop convincing yourself that I like him. I truly really,” you grit out a smile, strained and so clipped, “really don't like him.”

A smirk, undeterred despite your seething frame, “well, serious mode too, then. I suggest at least befriending him, ya know? Even though he's an asshole most of the ti—okay fine, he is an asshole, entirely, jeez.. don't look at me like that..”

He sheepishly rubs the back of his neck, a genuine and fond smile tilting the slightest corner of his lips, “but you know, he's still kinda precious to me. If you get what I mean. I know I should've asked someone.. more compatible, but right now, what you two have... is like, more than just being compatible or close. It's something deeper and rare. And frankly, it’s the kind of connection most people spend their whole lives hoping to find, if you know what I mean?”

‘What you two have... is like, more than just being compatible or close. It's something deeper and rare. And frankly, it’s the kind of connection most people spend their whole lives hoping to find.’

Another of that fond, genuine smile as he leans back in his chair, the sound creaking, “we seriously thought that you were just some ordinary rival he’d piss off in a day and then ignore, back then, ya know? It was weird seeing him talk about you a week later when you told to..”

“Ya know, what you said to him, and I quote, “I'll send your dismembered body to hell and back if you don't leave me the fuck alone. And he never really did leave you alone, did he?”

Seriously, what the fuck is that supposed to mean!?

Disgust—or is it really?—burns the back of your throat, and an unusual wave of warmth slithers all the way from your neck to your throat. And, holy motherfuck, what is happening to me. The warmth that coursed through was not a blush. It definitely leaned more towards the side of embarrassment, shame and humiliation. Yeah, that's what it was. Nothing more, nothing less, stat.

An internal slap in the face was all it took to snap back to confusion swimming in the glimmer of ocean gaze and a vexatious smile that is probably about to part and ask, “are you okay?”

Yes, you are fucking peachy. Not okay, but fucking peachy.

It doesn't come, though—because the second his lips parted, the annoying fuckass ringtone you've grown accustomed to shrieks in the fucking library, out of all places, and it dawns on you then that you completely forgot to mute Phone Calls.

The two of you turn to the noise; one flinching and swerving head left to right to gawk at other patrons who're clearly pissed off by the numerous times they caused unnecessary noise, whereas the other.. the other is fucking dead.

One look at your phone and the bright, “insufferable asshole whom i shall not dare interact.”

Also, the little note on your fuckass alarm which helpfully wrote, “clean up the damn tables in case of piss” kindly reminded you that the shift you spoke of was merely.. an hour ago? or, was it forty-minutes ago? In other words, you're late. Again.

You scramble to snatch the phone from your bag, quickly pressing the ‘decline’ button before asking the Ginger Freak to help organize the fucking clutter on the table–which he hectically agrees to, and he effortlessly swoops it all, stacking them as the papers caused repetitive little ‘thump’ against laminated wood.

Ugh. Ginger Freak with freaky long arms.

All it takes is one glance, and ‘the 99+ notifications’ manages to catch your eye first. Then, the, “do you want to fucking die where the fuck are you I know you're out there somewhere” message from you-know-who comes second.

A dull ache from your temple.

Shoving back the Token of Bad Luck (phone) in your bag, you hastily took the stack of papers, offering a small smile of gratitude, “uh, I didn't get to say this, but erm—you don't have to come to the date. Just tell me about it beforehand. And, admittedly, I also.. want to befriend the Asshole, so.. you're just doing me a favour here, and I appreciate it.”

Favour. In the name of Scaramouche. God, who would've thought?

The Ginger Freak lit up like someone had shined a flashlight through his nostrils, before smugly replying with a wink for dramatic flair, “well, I'm still going on that date. I’d like to get to know someone as fine as you are.”

“Right,” you stood up with a sound in-between a chuckle and a snort, already heading towards the exit, “whatever you say, I'll see you then?”

He grins mischievously, “yeah, see ya, babe.”

Lazy sunlight stuttered through gaps of trees that lined the start of the entrance road, rendering the pavement of constant light and dark shapes. It truly painted a pretty picture, which reminded you that winter is fucking coming and so is the quiz bee and examination.

Speaking of the quiz bee, the Mathematics Department hasn't decided on any pairs yet, and you kind of wonder when the choosing of the pairings will be. A niggling and annoying goblin nags at your nerves; prancing around and constantly mentioning a certain grape-haired asshole.

The familiar Scaramouche-Induced-Migraine that swelled behind your eyes was another massive fuck you! from the universe.

A subtle twitch in the neurons of your brain as you reeled back all the way to Childe’s words; words being: ‘what you two have... is like, more than just being compatible or close. It's something deeper and rare. And frankly, it’s the kind of connection most people spend their whole lives hoping to find.’

What the fuck is that supposed to mean!? And, hey, listen. Your mind absolutely blanked the fuck out at the mention of you two being more than rivals, because. Come on, these types of things? Playing ‘pulling pigtails’ with the asshole you've never directly interacted at all before you two were sent on the same hellscape? Doing the relentless jabs at each other thinking it was all friendly (friendly, my feet)? That's casual rivals. Seriously.

Are you in-denial? Certainly the fuck not. In textbook terms, something more than rivals is most likely to be acquaintances, friends—hell, even lovers (yuck).

Acquaintances is out of the fucking list, because you do know the fucker and are begrudgingly close with the asshole. So is friends because—a friend requires mutual care, and you do not give two fucks, two shits if the asshole had his dick cut off during circumcision and is in grief about it.

And—lovers? Yeah, no, might as well shoot yourself.

A noise of breath left your nose; brows furrowing and whatnot, a bubbling frustration emerging from the pit of your stomach. Feelings are a pain-in-the-ass, that's for sure. And so, you shoved the noxious notions far up your ass, and locked the fucking door.

Soon enough, the sign that read, “Rosis Café” all worn and weary entered your line of sight. You snuck a glance through the arched windows; and there in his mighty benevolence, the Asshole’s flashing a motherfucking pretty smile to the elderly. It's quite horrible how poorly stifled the old lady’s resistance to his “charm”, really.

You snorted, already treading up the cramped staircase. The bells jingled, the warmed-colored light seeped through an ajar of the door until it fully opened with a creak; and there, you met eyes with pale purple, blinking and blinking.

A cursory thought of Scaramouche, the asshole, potentially being possessed by an angel flashed through your mind, before the idea immediately gets dunked.

The bells jingled, gaze broken, as the door quietly shut. Few patrons you knew well greeted you with enthusiasm and light jest, and you persisted to ignore the little asshole’s gaze drilling to your frame all the while responding to said enthusiasm and light jest with reciprocity, until you reached the corridors, and then, the staff room.

The worn-out lock clicked, and a resigned sigh left your lips; body already slumping to the small bench as your bag slipped through your shoulders, dropping with a thump. And this. This is why being late fucking sucks.

Snapping away from your thoughts, you scurried to change out of your clothes, reaching for the work clothes. Then, out of the blue, a thrilling thought dawned on you; you could play the speakers now. Lightly grinning, you quickly changed, before making way to the shabby laptop tucked all the way in the corner.

Your grandmother had planned initially to buy a new one, but since the model of said shabby laptop could handle bluetooth and the necessities to handle a speaker, she shrugged the idea off. Begrudgingly, that is. She really wanted a new laptop.

(Cue your perfect idea for a Beloved Christmas Gift. Your leather wallet honestly feels really loaded with all the coins you saved up since nearly a week ago.)

The screen brightened to life, and you made swift work to connecting with the speakers and opening the playlist you had sent; albeit a bit slow, but boo fucking hoo, it's all you have and you can't really complain.

Not long, the speakers immediately made a noise; something akin to a radio glitching. Then, the familiar cadence of a male’s voice slithered through, and instantly, your mood sparked at the recognition.

Jeff buckley. Dream of you and I. An underrated classic, often overshadowed by his “Grace” album; which said album also managed to win a spot in the Rolling Stones list. It was an amazing time of music, your grandmother quoted. Either way, your personal favourite from Jeff Buckley had to be this song, and it's truly been a while since you've listened to it.

A smile tugged at your lips, nostalgic and all the sappy soft shit, then you stood up; reaching for the doorknob as it made a ‘click’ sound once again. Mild cinnamon and caffeine curled through the air, scent so thick that the taste of it lingered on the taste buds of your tongue like bees.

As you passed the corridor, a flick of a tongue resonated.

“Look who finally came. You're an hour late, by the way.”

Not for the first time, your eye twitched, “shut up, I got held up.”

A long, thoughtful look, before he strides over to you, immediately closing the distance and warmth rushes through your cheeks—then, a flick of the wrist and a sharp pain bloomed on the vast space of your forehead, “that's for being late, and for calling The Ginger Grinch hot.”

Your hand found itself hovering over the pain, as if it would offer consolation, “he is hot!”

Another tedious, agonizing look, “hot, my ass. That guy jerks off to sonadow.”

Oh. How morbid. Doesn't change the fact that the guy is hot, though. So, really, what the hell is his point?

Notable silence lingered, before another click of a tongue ushered you to the counter, all the while rubbing at the pain in hopes of easing the sharpness of it. Damn that asshole. You hope he crashes his Porsche sometime soon.

Ere long, the speakers played, “Easy lover by Philip Bailey”. And you hummed along the lines of the tune, sentimental and utterly oblivious of ivy fuckeyes looming over your form.

–

It's 6:00PM when the dark hours of nighttime seeps through the windows, and you take it as your cue to bring light to the entryway of the café. It's also 6:00PM when the last of the bustling customers walk out of the building with a satisfied glee to their face.

“You have dinner?” He mindedly asks, attention already drifting as he pops the portafilter to the holder. The sound of beep, beep chorusing in the empty café.

“Nope.” As usual. What's new, really.

Rolling his eyes, he flaccidly leans back into the counter sideways, both eyes now set on you, “of course. What do you want, onigiri or sushi?”

The fuck does he mean “of course”? Does he want to get kicked in the crotch, or something? And, no fucking way are you letting him buy you food again. You owe him nothing.

You sent him a glance, hopefully full of virulence and deadpan, “shut up, I can take care of myself just fine. Besides, I already went and grabbed food.. on the way here.”

“You do know that's called a fucking snack, right? Not dinner?”

“I still ate,” you retort, subtly pointing with your brow at the cheesecake category, “and it was.. barely five hours ago, I'll be fine.”

A grunt, an extremely irritated one, “that's called lunch, you fucking idiot.”

“Still—”

“No, shut up,” he clicks off the portafilter, swirling the cup as he effortlessly does a small heart on the Latte, “you're eating fuckass onigiri.”

Eyeing him, a frown twisted your face, utterly confused because why the fuck does he keep buying me food, “ugh, how much do I pay you?”

“Zero.''

“Shut your trap, how much?”

“I said, zero. Take it, or shove it up your ass. I don't care.”

“You're so crass,” you say, eyeing him as he throws the onigiri.

He flashes you a pseudo smile, “it's my charm. Now sit pretty, and eat there. It's our break, you damn fruitcake.”

Oh. Yeah, break. You haven't even noticed.

Circling around the counter, you pulled out a chair at one of the tables, and you sat on it like a Turk. For brief minutes, nothing was exchanged between the two of you, and god, numerous of obnoxious ideas in starting the conversation with—hey, you asshole, why'd you tie my shoes to the chair earlier—or—i told keqing i was late because of you, by the way— or—you shithole, what happened to you when i called you sweetheart—or—did you know childe thinks we're much more than just rivals—swam through your head, but all of them instantly melted at the fury that rose to your nerves at the thought of telling the former to the Asshole.

Fucking hell, you thought as you bit into the rice situated on your palms, why the fuck is it so awkward? why is he not talking. do I have to talk? I don't want to, though. Makes me look.. fucking needy, or whatever. Ugh, I still have to ask him to hang-out, but it's fucking night-time already. Should I just kill myself—

“Stop mumbling, you freak,” he snorts, the sound harsh and sharp.

At his remark, you discreetly diverted your gaze at the Asshole, who's currently perched in making fucking coffees or whatever, and absentmindedly wondered if someone shat on his breakfast. Probably seems to be the case though, considering how uptight he is right now.

‘Heh. Reminds me a lot of when he first arrived here. When was that? A month ago? Two months? God.’

“Fucking stingy asshole, yet he gives so many fucking onigiris like I'm some charity nutcase,” you inaudibly muttered with a frown, eyes roaming until all you could see was the damn tiled floor, “what the hell is up with him?”

–

The Fawkward Break passes by uneventfully. No words were exchanged, because being a Certified Pussy Conversationalist is a propensity you feel proud of having. And so, you continue your remaining shift in the staff room, because everyone is out in restaurants with proper foods and meals. And. Well. Take one guess and one look at what kind of an establishment you work at.

Mindlessly, you scrolled through the playlist, hopelessly torn between choosing, “(I Just) died in your arms,” or “What’s love got to do with it?”

Both are admittedly good to their bourne. And that's precisely why you're having a hard time. You pull at your bottom lip, squinting and squinting at the album covers, nitpicking all the colors within it as if that fucking helps.

Eventually, you tentatively decide on the former, and the male singer’s voice stretches as he sings out. Humming a satisfied noise, your feet leads you to the counter, only to find absolutely no customers in sight and for fuck’s sake, you're alone with him. Awesome shit.

The universe really does fucking hate you.

‘Oh I, I just died in your arms tonight It must've been something you said I just died in your arms tonight.’

“Did you know that dying is often used as like, a fucking euphemism for orgasm?”

A slow blink and frigid movement, startled by the sudden chance of conversation, “...um, uh, yeah? I mean, he was having sex with his girlfriend in this song, after all.”

You actually don't remember. Was it his girlfriend? or wife? Gulping, you swiftly passed by him, hoping by gods that he did not notice the quickening in your pace as you unceremoniously (or at least you tried) flopped on a beanbag.

His lips pursed into a thoughtful line, “there was.. a controversial theory circling around this guy, you know? Like some shit about him fucking a school girl, or whatever.”

What. You've never even heard about that, “what?”

“Yeah, fuckmunch,” a snicker, “a lot of the lyrics implies a shit ton of metaphors that involve children in it. And the dumbfucks in the 1980s thought that, “oh! fucking pedo that singer is!””

There's enthusiasm that's so distinguishable in the way the lilt of his voice rises just a tiny tad bit, and a fucking dangerous thought—that has completely nothing to do with how fucking cute the motherfucker’s voice is—crosses the roads of Dignity and Pride. Which is a whole level of fucking bad, and your brain fucking squeaks in motherfucking internal alert.

“Which is fuckin’ hilarious, by the way. But moving on, a lot of the lyrics actually suggested or implied him being guilty of having sex with a kid. Like, listen here–”

Listen to what? The fucking blarings in your brain, or the kicking of your rapid heartbeat beating the fuck out of your poor ribcage? Both of the options makes you wanna kill yourself. So, really, listen to what?

Scaramouche continues with boastful fervor–an actual! fucking! sincere! smile! on his! fucking! face!–and you burn toe-to-head, “and, then–a bunch of fuckassers decided that–[Name]? Are you fucking listening to me, or are you—are you imagining ten ways to fuck this portafilter to shitty Sunday, or something? Stop staring at me like I grew a dick from my mouth and say something, dipshit.”

Upon the second he uttered those words, dread quickly ran over you like a big fat ass truck, chasing away the fluttery bullshit haunting your ass prior, “shut up. That doesn't even make sense. Wouldn't that just mean you're doing a burgeoning blow job?”

“Burgeoning—are you fucking serious,” Absolutely, you want to say, but he, on the other hand, doesn't seem to be serious, considering the Asshole looks near constipated trying to stifle the amusement between his lips. Your heart slightly skips amidst its dying pace.

Sighing in a ‘done with your shit’ way, you narrowed your eyes suspiciously, “I will never get why you find dick jokes funny.”

Then, unbothered by the change of topic, he raises a brow, “yet you make one just as easily and effortlessly. ‘Sides the whole thing is just a damn spongy tissue, anyway. It's not like it's something so vile or vicious.”

“Yeah, sure,” you rolled your eyes, averting your gaze away from the shit-eating Asshole, “but once that thing gets near me, I'm cutting it off, and feeding it to the cats.”

A scoff, “Speaking of cats, remember the cat I stole from here a month and a half ago?”

Oh, right.

Shifting from your seat, a hum of curiosity and an affirmative invitation for him to talk left your lips.

“I have a name for her now. Went to get her to the vet a week ago, and she doesn't have any fucking diseases sucking her ass.

Your lips formed an appease ‘o’ and an inaudible, “that's nice” and he mischievously continued, leaning into the outer counter, laid-back and all that, “I'm naming her Missile Launcher Three Thousand One o’one.”

Missile Launcher Three Thousand One o’.. what?

“What did you just say?”

“Missile Launcher 3000-101; and her nickname? Missy.”

“What.. what is that name. Like, seriously,” you ghastly levelled the Asshole with the most disgruntled expression you could muster, “what is wrong with you.”

“Fuck off, you don't get to bash the name. You didn't even listen to my wonderful fucking rant about the Pedo Cutting Crew Theory.”

“...I'm sleepy, okay? Exams are coming,” it's not exactly wrong, but it's not entirely the reason why you've been drifting on and off.

A roll of his eyes, unconvinced, which—okay, reasonable, when have you ever let an excuse like that deter your focus? You indignantly huff, brows furrowing and determined to make your point, “hey, it is true! Maybe, it could be because your conspiracy theory is just so boring that it makes me yawn, you know?”

“Haah? It's not even my theory and I just wanted to—fucking, I don't know, share? Tch, fuck off. Whatever.”

A snort, “and for wh—”

Oh. Wait, is that why..

You deliberately shove down the fluttery pressure building in the guts of your chest.

“What true and profound conversational extraordinaire you are, huh?”

“..As if you're any better, choke on piss, fruitcake.”

You mildly scoff, this time leaning more towards the side of amusement, “at least I don't name my cat after literal bombs or jets. Who the hell names their cat like that?”

“Someone who can rub their two brain cells together, and you know who that fucking is?” He swiftly points a finger to himself, “me, of course, unlike your flimsy ass.”

Resisting the urge to shove a middle finger up his face, you rolled your eyes, leering all the while, “so cocky. No one would ever guess that a hotshot like you are would be so damn crass. I should ask for an autograph sometime, and maybe sell it to your future fans so I can get an extra 10 dollars and some shit.”

Scaramouche simply smirked smugly, “well this hotshot over here has great music taste.”

“What—”

“I'm changing the playlist, by the way. Guide me tomorrow on how to use the old ass laptop,” he flashed a smug look (eerily familiar except this one is tainted with all its vainglory), as he glanced to the right, precisely at the direction of the door, “80s songs in cafés are way too overrated anyway.”

Your eye shakily twitched at the remark, the Good Ol’ Scaramouche-Induced-Migraine sinking its teeth into the hypothalamus of your brain.

What the fuck is that supposed to fucking mean? Fucking overrated? In cafés? Is he calling your music taste.. bland? boring!?

Is he fucking serious?

You furiously rose up from your seat, mouth ajar to fucking argue because there's no fucking way is he calling your music taste bland when 80s songs are quite literally the Music of all time and—

“Welcome!”

Then, as if on fucking cue—a dazzling mother and her two kids enter the café with giddy smiles; excitement and the joy of childish wonder ebbing through the little skips of feet. The Asshole gracefully stood behind the counter, an easygoing pseudo-grin plastered on the shitty asshole’s doll-like face.

And, here you are in the scene; fists clenched, eyes bloodshot—with how fast the curious shine within the eyes of the children instantly drained out from their petite bodies the second they met your eyes—probably, body in a fighting stance, hair disheveled, expression bloody and borderline murderous, and a mind ready to gobble a whole fucking person.

“Mommy! A scary monster!”

“O-oh, I'm so sorry! Hush, dear!”

Fucking hell.

───────────────────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───────────────────

|| previous episode - next episode. ||

───〃★tunes of your heartbeat masterlist

synopsis: in which your fate somehow gets entangled into a messy jumble between punk music in cozy cafés, intense rivalry, cherished yakults, parallelograms and quantum physics, competitions in contests and rainy days. or in other words; the universe seems to fucking hate your guts for whatever reason and decided to curse your love life with your awful crass emo twink-a-fuck rival. the question is; did the curse work?

taglist (50/50): @toekissers , @raineyun @localscarasimp , @potteraep , @shutingstar , @feiherp , @scaraenthusiast1 @dazqa , @wraithisd3adinside , @x-hihihi-x , @court-jester-stuff , @automaticpatroltragedy , @lalalaloveallmydays , @trulyylee , @jayzioxx , @featuredtofu @kazemiya @help-whatdoimakemyusername , @skyoverkill1 @phoenix-eclipses , @anqelkoz , @miyakomari @saechiro @franaby , @swivi , @vixialuvs , @heusalettle @kunikissr @yomishen @mywillt0live , @baldrapunzel @jiminscarmex @sushitushi, @liuaneee , @shynsgore , @mechanicalbeat1 , @marivaudages , @okukura , @azzumei @lucid1tty @iloveescara @usagiarchive @kyouzki @theunhingedmf @kangyeonie @mi2ukiss @bubblebellaz @eternallykira-143 @lumiicch

• featured song - kiss me now by pierce the veil

• notes - WOO NEW PTV SONG IM GOING TO KILL MYSELF

authors' notes - i was reading jane eyre (a classic book) while writing this and you know what? my brain is so damn fried because wdym you can fit so many fucking sentences in a fucking preposition or conjunction (i think u can tell where my motivation sparked in this chapter LMAO inconsistent, i know, but who gaf this is fanfiction).

p.s - next update might take a while because writing is a bitch that loves its victims and i unfortunately am one of those victims

(ask to be added or removed)

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genshingorlsrevengeance · 3 months ago

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(Genshin Impact) Klee asking Jean and Eula's S/O when they're to give her a little sister

(Dark Knight and Belmont S/O, respectively)

This request was made in December 4th of 2022...I swear I'm good at answering asks guys.

Jean had S/O accompany her for an outing outside the cities of Mondstadt.

Given S/O's status as a vigilante, they were rarely seen around any heavily populated town, let alone with the Knights of Favonius.

Despite all that happened, Jean still loved S/O, and knew they were fighting for everyone just as hard as she was.

And even within the Knights, many understood that too. And for better or worse, Klee did.

In fact, this outing involved Klee, mostly just to let her "go on a secret mission for Jean". In reality, Klee needed to have some fun, lest she'd get into trouble due to the lack of explosions.

And so, Klee was having fun, skipping around while Jean watched, S/O still clad in their black armor and helmet, the red visor blocking out their face. As per usual, they said nothing in order to "protect their identity", though at this point it was just habit.

(Klee) "Master Jean?"

Jean and S/O turned to Klee, both of them sitting on a nearby log, their hands quietly intertwined with one another.

(Jean) "Klee? What is it?"

(Klee) "Are you and S/O going to have someone else I can play with?"

(Jean) "..."

S/O's helmet silently turned towards Jean, their absence of words speaking volumes, with the Acting Grandmaster being able to see her rising blush in the reflection of their visor.

Jean awkwardly cleared her throat.

(Jean) "Um...Do you mean, bring other children? Because this is official knight business.-"

S/O crossed their arms silently, tilting their head at Jean.

(Jean) "D-Don't look at me like that!"

Klee shook her head in response to Jean's question.

(Klee) "Lisa said that I would get a little sister soon from you and S/O!...But I don't know where Mom is so she can do that-"

(Jean) "Klee!...Let's go cook some lunch, okay?"

(Klee) "Oh! Okay!"

Klee walked off happily, leaving S/O and Jean alone.

To that, S/O took off their helmet to speak, their face just as red as Jean's.

(S/O) "Lisa sure has a sick sense of humor..."

(Jean) "Ugh, at least it wasn't Kaeya."

A brief an awkward silence hung in the air, neither of them sure on how to approach the subject of kids.

Though the silence was broken with S/O laughing, Jean quickly following along letting their hands hold each other once more.

(S/O) "Well, when we're not on a super secret mission of babysitting Klee...We should talk about it."

Jean playfully rolled her eyes before standing up, offering a hand to S/O gently, though the blush didn't leave either of them.

(Jean) "...Perhaps one day, S/O."

Eula was assigned to protect Klee as she went out to gather materials, though she wasn't dumb. It was just an excuse for Eula to take it easy, which after the last few weeks of reconnaissance, it wasn't entirely unwelcome.

It did help that Eula found Klee quite adorable, and Klee enjoyed Eula's presence.

Though, S/O had managed to find an excuse to join her, in spite of their whining.

(S/O) "So, the Knights have become a glorified babysitters now, have they?"

(Eula) "You know, since you're not part of the knights, nothing is exactly requiring you to stay."

Her tone was playful, much to the misery of S/O.

(S/O) "Perhaps this shit is the kind of curse people inflicted on us."

Eula chuckled, watching as Klee excitedly grabbed a lizard.

(Eula) "For the Lawrence and Belmont to breathe easy, enjoying the presence of one another?"

S/O rolled their eyes, leaning back into the tree as they adjusted the chain whip at their side.

(S/O) "If you wanna look at it that way sure."

(Eula) "You're just grumpy because Klee doesn't like you."

S/O scoffed.

(S/O) "Of course they don't. I'm a monster hunter."

(Eula) "And terrible with children."

(S/O) "Shut up already."

(Klee) "Miss Eula!"

Klee ran over to Eula, catching both of the outcasts' attention.

(Eula) "Hm? What is it, Klee?"

Eula knelt down to meet Klee at eye level, with her smiling before looking at S/O with a frown.

(Klee) "Kaeya said that I'd be having a little sister soon!"

(Eula) "Oh, is that right?"

Eula did her best to keep her tone the same, though she raised an eyebrow at Klee's frown, the answer to which came in her reply.

(Klee) "But Kaeya said S/O was going to be their dad, but they're super mean to you!"

Eula struggled to keep herself from bursting into laughter, especially hearing S/O choke at what Klee had said.

(S/O) "THAT RAT-BASTARD SAID WHAT?!"

(Klee) "The Knights of Favonius says using bad words is...bad!"

Eula pat Klee's head, giving a smug grin to S/O.

(Eula) "Right, and Kaeya is right! You are rather rude to me-"

(S/O) "Ooooh, you little!-"

S/O cut themselves off seeing Klee pout, making them sigh.

(S/O) "You got your materials, yeah? Let's go ahead and get back home before the sun sets."

Klee made a little "hmph!" noise, walking past S/O.

(Klee) "Klee will make sure her little sister is nice!"

S/O's eyes twitched as Eula joined their side, grin still present.

(S/O) "You're rather calm about the prospect of giving Alice's spawn a sibling-"

Eula flicked S/O's forehead.

(Eula) "One. Don't call Klee that. Two. It's funny to see you like this, so it helps me power through."

(S/O) "Tch, next time she's yours to handle alone."

(Eula) "Is that your idea of vengeance, S/O?"

S/O cursed under their breath, all the while Eula's smile remained.

...Maybe once her clan was gone, she'd give the consideration more thought, but not now.

Next thing she'd have to do though was come up with a name that'd make S/O cringe violently at. Maybe something like 'Treffy'.

#genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagines #jean gunnhildr x dark knight!s/o #eula x belmont!s/o #jean gunnhildr x reader #eula x reader #jean gunnhildr #eula lawrence

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jadeylovesmarvelxo · 1 year ago

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Part two to this story

After Jason's cruel display and your identity of Eddie's admirer being public knowledge, you're sure he will be disgusted. He hates you and your friends doesn't he?

Turns out you're in for a big surprise.

Minors shoo! Angst, fluff, sweet Eddie and reader taking no shit.

If you have any requests then send me an ask. My request rules are in my pinned post ❤️

🎀💌

Hellfire Slut. The words had practically burned into your brain as you tossed and turned in bed. Jason's cruelty was nothing new but you didn't think he'd ever go this far.

It was bad enough that Eddie's best friend had caught you in the act of delivering the notes and the thought he could spill all to Eddie, you didn't expect your secret to come out in such a public way.

The notes that you had poured your heart to Eddie had been clear to see by everyone and you felt sick to your stomach. You didn't care that people knew you were smitten with Eddie, it was the fact that he was probably disgusted that you had feelings for him.

You dreaded going to school but you knew you had to face Eddie and Jason at some point. It didn't stop nightmares plaguing your mind all night about what would happen come first period.

...

Homeroom was the first thing today before any other classes, you try not to draw attention to yourself as you slide into a seat at the back of class. However it feels like all eyes are on you today, Chrissy takes the seat beside you and holds your hand giving it a tight squeeze, it makes you feel a tiny bit better.

Mrs Jones isn't in class yet so chatter buzzes around you incessantly, your skin tingles as you feel Eddie's gaze on you a few times, try not to look up into those pretty brown eyes.

One of Jason's friends called Tyler smirks at you, he's sitting beside Jason and says loudly for all to hear. "So little miss perfect likes a freak in the sheets huh? Who would have thought?" there's a little ripple of laughter that's quelled by Chrissy's vicious glare. She's normally a sweetie so seeing her pissed shut everyone up.

Ignore him. Just ignore him you chant in your head but he still continues. "You know I was going to ask you out but fuck that. You're a dumb little bitch"

There's a collective silence as you hear Eddie's metal lunchbox drop to the floor. To your surprise he's glaring daggers at Tyler, you also notice that his knuckles are bruised. What the hell happened?

"Oooh you're in luck sweetcheeks, maybe Munson likes you back and the two of you can be freaks together"

You're fraying control over being calm snaps. Screw this. You weren't going to sit and let him run his mouth or let anyone like him or Jason make you cry again.

"You can admit to everyone you're jealous Tyler it's okay. We all heard about the little problem you have, Stacy told us all about how disappointing you are" you fake a sympathetic smile at him and his eyes nearly bug out of his sockets.

Jason looks ready to say something but you don't give the satisfaction of listening to the bullshit he says. "I couldn't be less interested in what you have to say Carver, you're a pathetic, nasty little worm"

While sassing Jason you miss the look of awe on Eddie's face. Gareth snorts at Eddie's stunned look.

"Dude, I really do think I'm in love" Eddie murmurs sounding almost reverent. Gareth sighs. Maybe now Eddie knew it was you that sent the notes the two of you could get together and he could get a minute of peace.

Meanwhile you lean back in your seat relieved as Mrs Jones comes in. There's still a question that's nagging at you though.

"Chrissy, why are Eddie's knuckles bruised?"and that's when Chrissy launches into the tale of how Eddie punched Jason after you left yesterday.

Hearing this makes a small bubble of hope build up inside of you. Maybe just maybe Eddie feeling the same for you might not be as hopeless as you first thought.

...

After a few fruitless attempts Eddie manages to track you down as you're coming out of cheer practice with Chrissy. She gives you an impish, knowing smile as she leaves you and Eddie to talk.

Telling Jason and Tyler what you thought about them made you feel a little bit better for a while, boosted your shattered confidence but now Eddie was around and you could feel that confidence crack.

What was he about to say? Was he going to tell you he was disgusted?

"You don't have to be nervous princess" you feel your nerves dissipate at his soothing tone.

"I know you thought the notes were a joke but they aren't Eddie, I've really fallen for you. I was crushing on you for such a long time. That's why I wrote the notes in the first place, I was worried if I told you in person that you would be disappointed" the words all come out in a rush and you feel relieved getting it all out.

He shakes his head. "I mean I would have been surprised but the way you spoke in the notes...how could you ever think I'd ever be disappointed sweetheart?" His words fill you with hope, a warm and fuzzy feeling in your chest.

"You know because I'm from the dark side" you murmur and he frowns. His hand reaches out to hold yours and you wince at the bruising on his knuckles.

"You didn't need to do that Eddie, I don't want you hurt" he shrugs as if it's no big deal.

"It was worth it. You're worth it"

Eddie gently takes your hand and kisses it, "I fell in love with you through what you said sweetheart, I want to know all about you. I don't give a fuck about who you're friends with or if you're part of the dark side. I just want to be with you".

A slow smile works it's way on your face and you lean forward and kiss him, continue kissing him until you're both a little dazed and smiling goofily at each other.

"Uh maybe we could go out for Milkshakes after school, if you want princess?" you nod feeling the bubble of excitement in your belly.

After all that worrying you were going on your first date with Eddie and you couldn't wait.

Maybe happy endings were possible after all ❤️

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x cheerleader!reader

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fadelion · 4 months ago

Text

I keep thinking that Signal would fight crime differently than Batman. It's not because of the daytime patrol, but it's how Signal himself goes about patrolling. He's on the streets, not the rooftops, and that puts him in the middle of people. It might be easy to be a target in a crowd, but Signal has that way of not making people want to hurt him, not from fear alone, but a mix of fear, respect, and admiration, leaning more towards that second one.

He'd be the type to feel like he's gotta be a known and trusted face in the city, not myth or a force of nature like Batman. Is he brutal when it comes to it? Absolutely, and everybody knows it. Either by it being daylight or it being in some more populated areas, Signal's greatest hits make the rounds on social media at least once every other month or so. New villains and old keep trying the new hero, and the new hero keeps finding ways to win. (The Riddler doesn't know whether to be frustrated, frightened, or flattered that Signal's been studying his tricks for years.) But he'd take that whole "Batman keeps candy in the belt for the occasional kid he runs across on patrol" thing to the next level. It'd take a lot of work, but he'd start to be treated like one of those police officers who make themselves known and not just their presence.

I also think that this would eventually give him that kind of worst kept secret identity that Daredevil does (or like Black Lightning wben he was Secretary of Education under Lex Luthor's term as president), where a whole bunch of people know his face or maybe exactly who's under the helmet, but if you press them, it's "Man, I ain't know nothing about no bat. All I know is Signal is Signal, he wear bright ass yellow, and he the type of MF you can flag down if he ain't moving full speed, and instead of needing to know who he is, you NEED to start dapping him up instead of hating on his ass." People could probably pick him out of a lineup, but they'd intentionally not do it. He'd have a bunch if people willing to come to him with a problem or give him a tip or something.

It's rough at first, because everybody sees him like just another Bat, and everybody in the Narrows has a story of how somebody they know or love got done dirty by the big bad Bat. ("That MF powerbombed a guy off a second story balcony onto the roof of my car. Woulda lost my damn job if my auntie ain't give me a ride after her night shift. Almost died, cause she tired as fuck after that double. Bat done broke all my windows and shit. I just got that MF detailed and tinted too!) He's almost seen like a cop at first, and people in the Narrows are wary at best and downright hostile at worst, criminal or not. (Duke gets it. He's as much "Fuck the Police" as he is "Be the change you want to see in the world.") But they notice Signal seems to be a lot more careful than the other bats. Stick Robin is a coin flip on whether he actually cares or is just getting info or stopping crimes, and Sword Robin doesn't give a fuck how uneasy he makes you. The girls are fine, unless they after you, then you paying Ms. Rita or Mr. Raymond to set your bones back and maybe getting some crutches from Shawn that fell off the back of a truck or out the pawn shop or a neighbor or something.

("Red Hood, like, he a'ight. I mean, he killed Unc and them, but his rules really did make it a bit better out here tho. Just took a minute.")

But Signal? If he got you, you really did that shit. Like, you was talking to people you shouldn't have been talking to and making deals you shouldn't have been doing. Signal will give you the chance to turn yourself in, or just stop, or something. You'll be breaking in the trap house for the first cook, and Signal will just pop in like "Did you know Mama Shirley about to retire from her job at the post office?" And he'll just look at you like you're stupid until you turn off the stove, and then he'll pat you on the shoulder and leave. And when you finally get that job, within the first week, Signal calls you by name and asks how the job treating you. Signal will stop the robbery at the corner store and then drop the robber off at his granny's house because that punishment would feel way worse than jail time. Signal having people to call off drive-bys because he was spotted on the next block playing basketball or getting lunch at that one food truck or talking with the old heads or something.

(When the Flash, on a rare trip to Gotham, notices and compliments him on it, Duke grins responds "I'm just trying to get like you.")

#duke thomas #dc signal #gotham city #dc comics #batman #batfamily #the signal

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deangirlsstuff67 · 20 days ago

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Her Biggest Fan

Jensen Ackles x Reader

Summary: Who doesn't love a good fantasy or escape from our normal lives. When Y/N started this online adventre she never dreamed it would land her smack dab in the path of her favorite actor. Is there a chance this fantasy might become reality? And will the reality live up to the fantasy?

Warnings: fluffy Jensen, talk about divorce, talk about trauma, language, some dirty talk

Authors Note: I love Jensen and his family. This is purely fiction and for entertainment purposes only. I am currently going through a divorce and I decided to pull from it and work out some trauma I have. I hope you enjoy, this is becoming a series so buckle up cause I have some wildly unhinged plans ;)

Masterlist

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Divorce is hard. Doesn't matter if you did it for your happiness, to remove yourself from a toxic relationship, or if you're like me and had absolutely no say in the matter what so ever.

The first few months you feel like your suffocating in your own house. The walls feel as if they are going to cave in and you aren't able to focus on anything what so ever. If you're like me then you went from what you thought was a loving marriage with two beautiful kids, to being a single parent in a blink of an eye.

Shit is rough!

Do I blame my ex husband for leaving me? Yes, in the beginning I did. However, as the months went on and I started to see him for who he truly was and how he treated people, lets just say my ex best friend did me a favor when she stole my husband and broke up my family.

Bitch can keep him now.

No matter how healed you are from the trauma a toxic marriage causes a person, when he has the kids and it's just you, the loneliness sets in.

We're human and all humans hate being alone with our darkest thoughts and demons. Sure I own a farm, work a full time job, and have an amazing best friend who talks with me daily and gets me out doing stuff. And yes I know I'm better off single than wanting my ex or anyone like him in my life.

But I still get lonely. I still crave someone who will put me first and wants to worship the ground I walk on. I mean who doesn't want love in their life.

That's the goal ain't it? Big beautiful family, love someone until you're old and gray, watching your kids grow up and start families of their own, and enjoy life to it's fullest.

Well I had that, for a little while at least. It was great and I will never regret my marriage, I just don't know if I want to risk it all again on the possibility it may go to shit on me.

So instead of getting out there and starting to date and find someone to be with, I did the oppisite. I started a second phone account and I created a fake identity for online purposes and created an OnlyFans account.

I have no one in my life that will get jealous, be offended, or cause problems because of it. I have always been the type of woman who not only enjoyed porn for my own personal use, but I never stopped my ex husband from watching it when he was away.

Look all you want, it was always the touching that pissed me off.

While I'm not ashamed of what I'm doing, I have a family and friends just like the next person and they don't need to know. I'm a grown ass woman and if I want to have some fun online so fucking be it.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

6 Months Later.

"How much money have you made from it?" Yes I caved and I ended up telling my best friend, to be fair her and I have no secrets. I hate secrets, I'm a honest person and there are times when even that's a problem, more so because I don't care who's feelings I hurt.

Don't want the truth, don't ask me then.

Shockingly enough I've done very well, way better than I thought I would. Guess it helps that I don't have anyone but my kids to worry about so I can give mt regulars the attention the pay for. Most of them just want to get off, easy enough considering I have been named the queen of sexting with them all.

Some of them are just looking for a person to talk to and enjoy their company. Either way I'm happy with both sides of the business.

Sitting on her front porch as we watch our kids ride their bikes and play together has been the highlight of my week. I love this woman to death and will forever be grateful after my ex best friend detorying my family, I was sent an angel like her. She doesn't judge me, she listens, makes me smile and laugh, helps me out as much as she can, and s there for my kids as much as she is for me.

Couldn't ask for a better friend if I tried.

"I'm doing pretty good. Made about $2000 last month alone. Funny how a silly little hobby out of boredom blossomed into a second career." inhaling a puff of my smoke, i hear my kids laughing as they climb a tree in the field across from us.

She starts laughing, "look at you go. Soon you'll be able to tell that ex husband to keep his money cause you won't need the child support."

That is the goal. Always was. He has a funny way of thinking because he gives child support monthly that means he still has a huge say in what I am allowed to do and go. Honestly, he still wants me to treat him like my husband and well that's not happening.

Needless to say we end up in a lot of fights that eventually result in a phone call or text message from him saying how he over reacted and he is sorry. Same old shit just a different day. He walked away from me and for some reason that just hasn't sunk into his head, he figures he can have a girlfriend and wife, again I ain't that girl.

Don't get me wrong, should he pay child support absolutely, but I was raised to be independent and to provide for my family. Not to mention it will bring me so much joy the day I tell him to shove his money where the sun don't shine because I don't need it anymore. Making him feel completely useless in my life is my goal, I'm going to show him that I don't need him to survive.

Just then my work phone goes off indicating I have a text message. Smiling I respond to Jay.

Jay: Hello beautiful. How's you're day going?

Me: Well hello handsome. It's going well, just hanging out with my bestie on her porch enjoying a glorious summers day.

Is he handsome, I got no idea. Jay is one of the guys I text daily. While we definitely have had our share of fun at night together making each other cum even though we are in two different countries, he is one of those men who wants a friend just as much as he wants release.

He's sweet, charming, kind, funny as hell, and if I believe what he says then he's a Texan boy born and raised. He won my heart right there, this country girl loves her some Texans.

However, the internet is where people go when they don't want to be known. Is Jay his name? I don't know. I haven't asked for a photo, all I've seen is his large hard cock when I'm teasing him all day before letting him cum. I respect that he probably doesn't want me know who he is and I'm okay with that. Hell not like I'm using my real name anyways.

I've grown attached to him in a way. He's definitely my favorite client. Maybe in another life we could meet and it would be heaven, but this is what I get and I'm okay with that.

Man for all I know he's married.

"Oh uh, I know that look, Jay's texting isn't he?"

"Oh shut up woman! But yes he is."

"Still have no idea what he looks like hey?"

"No."

"Just ask for a photo." God this is why I love her, she's exactly like me. No sugar coating shit, straight to the point every time and I am so thankful for it.

"Why? This way I have my fantasy and he has his. Hell I can pretend he's Jensen fucking Ackles and I'll never know the difference."

She burst out laughing, "really, you think Jensen is texting with you and randomly found you're OnlyFans one day?"

I join in on the laughing, she's right it sounds stupid, but hey it's a fantasy and nothing more, "no I don't, I'm not that crazy, but the fantasy is fun to dive in to."

"Yeah, okay I give you that."

My phone dings again.

Jay: It's killer in Texas today, summer is not our friend here.

Me: Haha I can only imagine from what you've told me. I still think it would be fun to live there.

Jay: I think so, but I'm bais. So just porch sitting with the bestie today?

Me: Hell yeah, momma deserves a break every once in a while. What about you?

Jay: I'm going out to the brewery today and meeting some buddies to hangout. Nothing spectacular.

Me: Man who makes his own beer, add in a whiskey distillery and you'd be the perfect man lol.

Jay: I'll keep that in mind sweetheart. Whiskey girl huh?

Me: Oh 100% nothing better in my eyes. Sitting outside once the kids are in bed, watching the sun set, whiskey in hand and nothing but the quiet of the night.

Jay: Damn that sounds amazing.

Jay: Your ex giving you anymore trouble?

Yeah you've told him about your ex husband. Lately, he's been unpredictable and grumpy more than he's not. You aren't shocked and you can handle his mood swings like a champ considering the 12 years you shared together. Mainly it just annoys the living piss out of you now.

Me: Nah, I put him back in his place where he belongs. Fucker don't scare me and he knows it. I hold all the power as much as he doesn't want to admit it.

You'd agreed to be civil and so far for the most part he was. Then you started going out and having fun while he was stuck at home with her being bored. The anger and resentment started to kick into overdrive. He started to come to the realization that he gave you all the freedom he was craving in life, and all he did was dump you for a more controling woman.

I mean the man can't even text you with her wanting to know ever detail of the conversation. Not like he actually tells her. Yet another reason I won't take him back, he's literally doing the same shit to her that he did to me, and she's dumb enough to by all his lies.

Most of the time you just have to not so gentle remind him he has a criminal record that you can bring to light in a courtroom and he would instantly lose everything and that usually shuts him the hell up for a while.

He's only saving grace is our kids we have together, if it wasn't for them I would have taken him to the cleaners the moment he left me for her.

Jay: Good girl. He needs to remember who left who in this situation.

Me: You can lead a horse to water but you can't make him drink Jay. I knew what was going to happen with this divorce. I know who I married so it never shocks me.

Jay: You still shouldn't have to deal with it.

Me: We have a farm and kids together, I'll be dealing with it until the day one of use finally croaks. You're sweet though for checking in on me and making sure I'm okay.

Jay: This may have started off as a way to release pent up frustration for me, but sweetheart you have grown on me. I couldn't imagine going a day without checking in on you. I know how that sounds considering we don't know each other and you've only seen my dick.

Me: It's a pretty amazing dick ;)

Jay: Awe, thank you honey. I wish there would be a day where I could show you just how amazing this dick truly is. Cause the things I want to do to you with it will probably seal my fate into Hell.

Me: Naughty boy. I do like the sounds of that though.

Jay: Probably should show you my face before that happens lol. I'm off baby girl, I'll text you in a while. Have a fun day relaxing with your kids and friend.

Me: You too Jay! Xx

Just then all 4 kids come running over to you together screaming how they are starving to death. You look at your friend and you both chuckle. Guess that means we are done relaxing for a moment. Off to make some lunch for us all.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Read part two here.

Taglist:

@impala67rollingthroughtown @bitchykittenconnoisseur @deansimpalababy @jayhalsteadfan-2417 @lessons-of-red @spnaquakindgdom @yvonneeeee @syrma-sensei @nancymcl @tspmoff @idontwannabehere78 @foxyjwls007 @senjoritanana @leigh70 @neii3n @maggiegirl17 @jamerlynn @mostlymarvelgirl @kimxwinchester @multiversefanfics @supershygirl @justwhisperingfantasies

#jensen ackles #jensen ackles smut #jensen ackles fanfiction #jensen x reader #jensen fucking ackles #jensen ackles x female!reader #jensen ackles x y/n #jensen ackles x you #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles fluff #jensen ackles fic

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morallysuperiorlips · 4 months ago

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12 Traits to Give Your FMC That Are GUARANTEED to Make Her More Interesting!

She has an unlikely set of skills: Stick her with a set of skills or talents that might not pair well with her occupation or personality. Maybe she's a hellish warrior who's a beast at knitting. Maybe she's a wallflower with a four-octave singing voice. The combinations are really endless, and this is a great and easy way to inject some extra charm into her.

She doesn't exactly conform to societal norm views: And I mean this more than just not adhering to traditional gender roles. Maybe, in the scope of your world, she has a set of views that many might consider unorthodox, or maybe she's just a little more "off the wall" with her opinions than the other characters around her.

Identity crisis, identity crisis, identity crisis: Have her balance different roles that seem like they have no business mixing together. Have her face a trial that makes her question everything. Have her wrestle with the skeletons in her closet (literally or figuratively, whatever you think fits her situation better). Not only will this help make her more relatable, but its a great way to give her some internal strife.

She doesn't know who to support: Is she stuck in between two warring families? Or, maybe the will of her superior vs. the will of her beloved? Whatever the struggle is, giving her a sense of uncertainty around who to support can go a long way in terms of her own conflict and keeping reader interest.

A strong sense of justice goes a long way: I LOVE a girl who has a strong moral compass. Give us the girl who's up in arms about serving justice in the way she believe is right. Bonus points if she will do absolutely anything and everything to defend her ideals. Extra bonus points if her sense of justice doesn't exactly seem "kosher" on paper...

...or maybe it's ever changing: But, on the flip side of that, a more flimsy sense of justice--one that almost appears to change with the tide or time of day--can also pique some interest. This is more than just plain grey morality; this is morality that can flip for any reason.

Traits that don't seem to match up: Like the skills suggestion, this encompasses general personality traits rather than skills. Give us the fiercely independent woman that absolutely craves human touch, or the high IQ genius who has no sense of emotional intelligence, or the fearless leader who wants nothing more than to fall to the background. You can really go nuts here, too!

She's obsessed with SOMETHING: Whether its an obsession or an addiction, this is something I feel like I don't see a lot of in female characters. It could be a substance, or a person, or even a concept. Bonus points if she compromises whatever she might be doing to touch on this obsession. Drive it home for us, writer.

Double life, maybe?: Whether its metaphorical or totally literal, this trait is a great way to dig down to her depths and tack on some intrigue with her character. Is she really hiding a secret identity? Or is she trying to reconcile two contrasting parts of herself?

She's confident in her femininity: Look, I love me a woman who defies gender norms and goes against the grain of femininity, but in that regard, I feel like there isn't enough writing about characters who embrace it. That doesn't always have to be falling into gender roles, but maybe she's really in tune with her nurturing side. Maybe she's the picture of grace. Maybe she just really likes dolling herself up and looking pretty. There's nothing wrong having any of these traits, so having her be confident in them could be a breath of fresh air!

She knows her tastes and she knows them well: Is she goth? Is she coquette? Is she all glam? However she rolls, she knows how she wants to look, and she sure as shit embraces it in her overall aesthetic.

She's a leader...and an imperfect one at that: Yes, this is a dig at the classic "Strong Female Lead." The fact of the matter is that even the best leaders are imperfect, so if your FMC finds herself at the front of a rebellion or an organization, really emphasizing her imperfections can give her some nuance that doesn't make her seem totally and completely untouchable.

As always, gooooooooooooo fucking write something today <3

(If you like my guides, prompts, writing, or art, consider supporting the blog today! All donations help me keep this thing up and running and all are appreciated <3)

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commanderfreddy · 2 months ago

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started thinking about the grandma-granddaughter reading of Hank and Hunter in Pomp and Circuitry again and it turned into a whole essay

okay beginning with an overarching framework that Hunter is trying to scare Hank away so that 1) he leaves immediately but also 2) does not try to interfere with SPHINX ever again, we get some interesting stuff about both of them, specifically regarding Hunter's thoughts on Hank being part of The Game (of cat and also cat):

Firstly Hunter is just trying to get Hank out of her hair so she can get back to work but its clear she doesn't want Hank "in the game" AT ALL - SPHINX under her command requires recruits be 18 and have a high school diploma, she's definitely learned from The Billy Incident that child soldiers are a bad idea (noteworthy: she uses the phrase "Junior G-Man" to refer to both freshly-recruited Billy in TIHoF AND Hank trying to join SPHINX) - personally i think the fact that she ever thought that would work says a LOT about HER upbringing (Very Bad).

She doesn't just want Hank out of the way for practical reasons, she's trying to protect him.

Which brings us to Two: i read both Hunter and Hank as transfem (Hunter as a woman and Hank as genderfluid, including-but-not-limited-to being a woman) which makes the fact that Hunter's FIRST IDEA to scare Hank off is to shave his head Very Noteworthy, especially since we know her baldness is a point of dysphoria for her, especially in contrast with how Shoreleave thinks of it. He and Hank are both just having fun doing hairstyle bullshit meanwhile I think Hunter is trying to introduce to Hank how much being part of a (para)military is constant humiliation rituals centred on enforcing masculinity and highlighting when people fail to live up to it.

When Hank first proves that 1) he's not frightened by any of this shit and 2) he has the skills to actually participate in it, I feel like what happens is that Hunter starts escalating her attempts to scare him off and in the process becomes legitimately impressed by what Hank is capable of bc 1) that shit is legit impressive and 2) at the end of the day, this world IS her life. I think it's too simplistic to make a call on whether she "enjoys" it or not, but this is the world in which she lives, these are the standards by which she is judged and she judges people by, and these are the things she takes pride in. I think it probably brought back a lot of memories of training Brock and Shoreleave too, especially considering the fact that she knows the reason Hank is like this is because he was in turn raised by Brock. If she is "like a mother to" Brock, that's her fucking granddaughter.

I think Hank and Hunter have so much in common and I think for the duration of this episode Hunter allowed herself to enjoy that, but then at the end of the day it was over, and the reality of what it means to be a Secret Agent beyond the scorpions and the explosions and the cool car chases come back, and once again Hunter is running a covert operation that she had to detransition in order to establish, because, again, looping around, she exists In This World where power is enforced through masculinity and if she wants to be A Leader in this world she cannot allow herself to also be A Woman. And not even just because Power = Men in this world, but because being a woman is something she enjoys and wants, and so much of the secret agent stuff in this series is about sacrificing your identity to The Cause. Frankly I think you can do a similar reading to Hunter having to give up her gender presentation to Brock having to give up his connection to Being Native in order to be a spy. The [person] you knew and were is dead. Happy Birthday Frankenstein.

so when this day Hunter has spent with Shoreleave - her flamboyantly gay protege who took a DISHONOURABLE DISCHARGE UNDER DONT ASK DONT TELL RATHER THAN STAY IN THE CLOSET - and Hank - "DONT PUT YOUR HETERONORMATIVE GENDER BIASED HANG-UPS ON ME" DESTINY VENTURE - comes to an end, she puts Hank in the fucking washing machine, erases his memory and sends him away, BECAUSE SHE DOES NOT WANT THIS LIFE FOR HANK NO MATTER HOW MUCH SHE ENJOYS LIVING IT WITH HIM.

Of course, the catch is, it doesn't work. Hank doesn't forget. She can't protect Hank from this life. It belongs to him as much as it does to her.

AUGH. THEY MAKE ME SO FUCKIN EMOTIONAL.

#venture bros #vbros #Hank Venture #Hunter Gathers #Pomp and Circuitry #THEY MEAN. SO MUCH TO ME #i need to return to this because the SHOW returns to this - if only ever so briefly - in OSI Love You #when Hank is straight up girlmoding and its like very clearly effecting Hunter

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chaoscreaturewrites · 14 days ago

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Call of duty, Ghost, drabble

Its a girl under all that gear

WC:1.5k

She's a sniper usually decked out in her gilly suit but even when she's not in the field she's covered in gear and layers that completely hide her identity and gender, she doesn't talk much she's not shy just not good at talking usually gets her in trouble so she keeps quiet and cause of all that new people usually assume she's a guy it doesn't bother her though she just does her job.

She works with Kortac and they have just been assigned to work with 141 for a joint task force. She keeps to herself like always doesn't speak just nods and uses hand signs which leads others to think that she's a short guy who's mute.

Ghost becomes very curious about ‘Nightcore’ they're like him the silent strong lurking-in-the-corner type, he's never run into them alone and hasn't been able to speak with them. At dinner one day he says to 141

“ so anyone spoken with Nightcores what's their deal”.

They all say they never heard him speak no clue they move so silently one moment they are there the next gone, kinda like you Ghost.

He finds her in the shooting range early it's just them, he thinks this is his time but he sets up and shoots first. He sees them pull in their target and the shots form a symbol perfectly the skill he's good at. This is his moment,

“Impressive work there”

She looks at him and gives him a nod, he is so curious.

“Are you mute or tongue cut out?”

She starts laughing, he's surprised, she goes over to him and leans against the post.

“I've never heard that before, tongue cut out, good one.”

Ghost takes it all in and the voice it's female right?

“Your a woman”

“Yeah got the tits to prove it too”

He's in shock, she steps in, pulls his target forward, and checks out his shots.

“Not bad, but you are a bit too tense”

She walks away, he's still frozen possessing 1) nightcores is a woman, 2) she's a perfect shot, 3) she corrected his shot, 4) she's got a mouth and attitude.

At lunch, he tells the guys she's a woman but they don't believe him just thinking it's a guy with a feminine voice, he doesn't push more for now it's their secret.

Konig does a thing for his guys moral while 141s out on a training thing, 141 comes back hearing music and checks it out and finds Kortac partying and Nightcore dancing on a table even in gear the way they move now convinces the guys she's a woman. She calls out to Konig and even though he is in the middle of talking he flawlessly catches her as she throws herself at him and he sets her down and she heads over to 141. Konig gets to her and grabs her belt and tells her “Other way soldier”. She makes some hand gestures but goes. Price ask what's that about, Konig explains Nightcores a loose Canon when drunk.

Meanwhile, behind Price and Konig, Soap says “okay I think you're right about that being a girl”. Konig continues ,”she's got no filter and when she's drunk .She doesn't remember to keep her mouth shut”, that confirms it she's a girl, they all say Nighcores a girl, and Konig nods. Price says “so that's why she doesn't speak cause she has no filter”, Konig nods “yeah she'll mouth off and say the most out-of-pocket shit to anyone”, Konig says “I'll try to get this wrapped up sorry for it being loud”

The next day at breakfast there all looking at her amazed it's a woman and the way she was dancing and how bold she was and that she doesn't speak cause she mouths off. Ghost finds her making some tea later that day. “hangover?” she shakes her head no, “really after last night”, he's saying all the right things to egg her on trying to get her to speak and it works. “last night was nothing... oh don't mean to offend it that's all you brits can handle”,he chuckles at that, usually she gets a smack when she says something like that to a superior but he's laughing, they share more moments like this.

Shit has been going suspiciously wrong and 141 brings up someone being a mole and they look at her and accuse her this sets her off and she speaks. Ghost can feel the rage and emotion coming off her and knows they are wrong. She gets on the table and starts throwing off her layers and gear while ranting, Konig doesn't stop her, she strips down to just her underwear and shows them all her scars. “I was captive and tortured for over a year and I didn't say a word didn't give them a sound, not a single word, I'm not a mother fucking goddam spy I've given blood and flesh for my brothers, my comrades so fuck yall cause I'd give blood and flesh again for fuckers like you and you'd just turn around and accuse me... so much for my sacrifice huh”. she storms out.

141 just curses under their breath, Ghost feels so bad and wants to go to her but knows she wouldn't take it well probably. Konig picks up her stuff,” She'll cool down but it best to steer clear for the next 24 hours she can get a bit stabby... but price your right there's been too many coincidences let's meet at [ ] to discuss more”, Konig walks back and price says “I'm sorry”.

Konig goes, finding her in the training room beating a dummy bag, seeing her like this scars out reminds him of the day he found her and it breaks his heart a little bit. He goes to her and “Come on mazi that's enough”, she turns on him “Why does everyone always come to those assumptions about me I know I don't talk and stuff but still... why,” he says “Cause your good mazi the fucking best I've ever seen, people question those who are so skilled”. He grabs her in a hug she hits him but calms and hugs him back, he gets her back to her room and says “Take the day try not to stab anyone please you know I hate the paperwork”, she nods “I'll try”.

She doesn't usually take off that much gear, ever, and seeing her body scars out and what just happened got her emotional and in her head, she knew she wouldn't be sleeping tonight. She put her gear back on grabbed her gun and went into the forest near the base and shit shot and got out of her head.

She comes back to base around midnight and runs into Ghost in the hall they just stop and stare at each other, not sure what move to make. Eventually, she moves and passes him, “I'm sorry”.The next thing he knows he's up against the wall knife, pressed against him. “I don't need pity”, he knows he should be quiet but still hes gotta make this clear. “I ain't got no pity for you I'm sorry we pushed you to have to do all that to make us see”. She know Konig will give her the nice answer but now she wanted the real one, “why why do people always pick me when sniffing out rats?” “It's happened before”, she nods, “your quiet sulk in the corner makes it easy for people to assume shit and put words in your mouth happens to me too and your good really fucking good, a lot of groups would want someone with your skill, and not everyone is capable of being a good double”, she nods taking it in, she lets him go and steps back and walks away,

They go on another mission and shit goes south badly the guys are stuck and she's not in a position to cover them, Konig tells her to get out don't let them find you too nightcore. They all know it's the smart move but then they hear a vulgar string of curses come through the line and she ends it by saying “You know I can't leave you bastard”. Konig curses and Price says “What's she doing”, “She won't leave men behind even if it means her life”, Ghost says “She's gotta know better right she's smart”, konig says “Yeah she's the best I've ever seen but being captured changed her, her old team left her and never looked back. I was on an unrelated mission when I found her and she vowed to be better and never leave a man behind”.Moments later they hear explosions and shots,fast ones like it's more than one shooter, Konig says “That's her”. A big blast goes off that rattles the ground and not long after the door to their holes is opened and there stands her heavily disguised figure. When they walk out they see she got them all by herself she got them, they are all wondering how it shouldn't be possible. She goes up hugs Konig then punches him and says “You really thought I'd fucking leave you, dumbass, I've dragged your big back ass through endless snow before and you think id leave you now, hell or high water Konig you know that.”

#writerblr #fic writing #call of duty fics #call of duty fic #call of duty #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #cod drabble #chaos creature writes

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feroluce · 1 year ago

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For some weird reason, I've always been fascinated by how wildly different Sampo operates in the Underground vs the Overworld.

Sampo is present in both places and even in official sources, he's not really counted as one side or the other- now that the theory has been confirmed in-game, he's generally just lumped in with the Masked Fools.

But there really is a big difference!

Probably the most obvious and well known instance of Sampo's...business practices *cough burglary and fraud COUGH* in the Overworld is from the Belobog Museum event. In it, you don't find out Sampo is the main culprit until near the end, because Pela has to set up a sting just to catch him in the act. And that sting is necessary all because the initial suspect they arrested, Norbert, had pretty much no idea of his partner's identity. Sampo wouldn't even speak to him face-to-face.

And whereas Sampo is normally very pleasant and friendly with the trailblazer...when he thinks he's talking to Norbert here, he straight up says that they are NOT friends. Like he really shuts that shit DOWN.

There's also an Overworld NPC, Chavez, who heads the "Dark Blue Scam Support Group." And he. Really really really does not like Sampo fjkdasjklfdj

Chavez clearly wants Sampo caught, and has literally no positive feelings about him. So. Why call it the Dark Blue Scam? Why not just out him by name? Chavez obviously doesn't give a single shit about Sampo's dignity or privacy. But he never once refers to him as "Sampo," and even the pamphlets he passes out make no mention of it. No one in the entire support group seems to know how to identify him or how to refer to him except by his hair color. If the trailblazer says his name, Chavez reacts as though he's never heard it before.

(I've seen people say this means Sampo Koski is an alias and not his real name? But Ray pointed this out, and honestly I agree; even the Fools call him Sampo, after all. I think it's just that Chavez never knew Sampo's name in the first place, and given his immense distrust, immediately assumes it's an alias.)

And then there's his characters stories, where he proceeds to pull off a heist in the Overworld while in disguise as Brughel Poisson the entire time. Literally his own stories don't mention Sampo's name even once.

So anyway, all this shows that when he's up in the Overworld working cons, Sampo is incredibly slippery and secretive about his identity. The only people who seem to know him are Pela, Serval, and Gepard. He doesn't get close to anyone else, and is even surprisingly unfriendly. Nobody knows his name. No one knows his face. He has zero qualms about backstabbing or double-crossing, and even plans for it in some cases.

Meanwhile, down in the Underground, I'm pretty sure literally the worst thing we hear of him doing is scalping tickets in front of the Fight Club. Which isn't even illegal in a lot of places (although it's certainly a dick move).

In Hook's companion quest, a vagrant miner steals Fersman's equipment and tries to sell it to Sampo. Even before the trailblazer and Hook jump in and out the vagrant as a thief, Sampo hesitates to buy it because it sounds like stolen goods, which he doesn't want any part of.

Even knowing that a geomarrow detector is rare and incredibly valuable in the mines, Sampo makes no attempt to double-cross Hook or profit off of her loss, and even tells her who to go to to get it fixed.

And my favorite example of Sampo in the Underground is the Survival Wisdom adventure mission. In it, Sampo starts up a business with Peak, another miner. And like. In wild contrast to all the cons he pulls above ground, Sampo is actually super nice and helpful here.

Just the same as with Hook's quest, Sampo talks to Peak face-to-face, with no disguises or barriers. When the trailblazer finds them, they're just in the Great Mine, no secretive meeting places. Peak knows Sampo, is familiar with him, and calls him by name. It's not even a con! There's nothing illegal going on; it really is just a business partnership. Peak is more than happy with their deal, he's even pretty enthusiastic about it, because thanks to Sampo he can now make enough money to get by while also accommodating his chronic fatigue.

The only person Sampo lies to in this whole ordeal is the trailblazer, who he manipulates into getting Peak's mining equipment back from the vagrants that stole it in the first place. And when it's done, he rewards them with a legit treasure map.

So when he's working in the Underground, Sampo is MUCH more upright and lawful. Part of this is probably to do with his "business" model- Sampo only takes advantage of the wealthy, and poverty runs rampant in the Underground. When he charges Peak an extra 30% (the same percentage he charges Norbert as a consultation fee in the museum heists- Sampo seems to go by percentage instead of a flat rate, which means his prices are more fair for lower incomes) for carelessly losing their supply, Peak literally starts counting out pocket change.

Dude's working for pennies and good will down there dknsmdmd

And you can twist this into a Robin Hood thing if you want- Sampo IS technically working to feed orphans and heal the sick. He says himself he's more than happy to make up the shortfall between the greedy and the marginalized- I mean he says it in the shadiest way possible, but I doubt the people benefiting from his work really care that he's a slimeball if it means they can survive another day. Even the two heists he pulls in his character stories are literally just him stealing absurd amounts of food.

Personally though I think it is solely because of Natasha, and Sampo is hilariously well-behaved specifically for her, because she keeps him on a short leash JSKZJMSMSKS

#honkai star rail #sampotasha #hsr natasha #sampo koski #hsr sampo #hsr #today's post is brought to you by the letter Y. for the Yaps fdklsajfkd #'for some weird reason' I say only to realize through writing this post that the reason I like it so much is because I think-#-Natasha having Sampo by the short hairs is funny dkxjmskskdmdm #so sampotasha if you want or Sampo & Natasha if you want either or #I love Sampo behaving just for her because she holds a LOT of power in the Underground and he knows she could destroy him if she wanted #she could blacklist his business and run him out of Boulder Town if she really thought she needed to #Natasha exiled her own brother who eventually died in the cold because he was running unethical medical experiments on unknowing civilians #and granted what Sampo does is nowhere NEAR as bad as that but she also probably does not have nearly as much mercy for him dkdjdmkskd #I'd like to think they hold a decent amount of camaraderie for each other though. and maybe even some affection.#they work together like all the time after all. sampo is in the clinic with natasha so much that hook thought he was really sick.#and for as much as he relies on her for business she also relies on him for resources.#it's not really an exaggeration to say a LOT more people would be dead without Sampo constantly smuggling goods across the border.#maybe I should just make a post about their relationship sometime because I do very much love it skzjkskdk

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ponytailzuko · 3 days ago

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"adrien jr is aware of chat noir because he gets brought back in the middle of mayhem when gabriel just made the wish and marinette & adrien are obviously freaking out. i can go into that more but tldr: he needs an explanation on why it is 6 years in the future, why everything has changed, and how he was possibly cloned. i imagine he finds out eventually just because its so fucking complicated it would be harder to keep it a secret."

CAN. can we have the. Not long enough; PLEASE let me read Explanation of this?

HI!!! okay so context: i made this au at the end of season 3. we had nooo idea how the agreste arc would end at all. this was purely me speculating + building off of information given in season 3.

i assume by the ask, longer is better. i will assume this, because i don't know how to cut off my thoughts and i LOVE yapping. under a read more because it gets kind of long?

so basically, this was me speculating how the story might end after season 3 and they defeated hawkmoth. sometimes id be like "is this too dark for a kids show" and then i remember they added the magic slave baby plotline so im allowed to do whatever i want.

i had basically a season built in my mind before the wish ever happened: adrien starts getting hints that there's something seriously off about his father, and he starts investigating. he eventually gets caught in the basement pilfering around in there, and gabriel tries to appeal to adrien by showing him the dead body of his mother. there's a very long manipulative spiel, but adrien is very insistent that his father being hawkmoth is wrong. gabriel, needing adrien to keep quiet but not wanting to hurt him or get rid of the last thing his wife ever left him, gives him a gag order not to tell about this to anyone. adrien, a sentimonster, can't disobey.

he goes to school like normal. he talks to ladybug like normal. but he can't tell her what he knows. adrien gets more and more desperate. as adrien is more monitored because gabriel is paranoid about adrien telling others and somehow breaking the order, it becomes more apparent that chat noir doesn't show up when adrien is being watched. gabriel figures out adrien has the ring, asks him for it, then doesn't ask so nicely. there's a whole exchange here, but it eventually ends up with chat blanc.

the akuma is in his miraculous, and he's the only one with the cataclysm to be able to break the ring at all. (this is an english dub rule apparently but i did not know that when i made this au so forgive me?) gabriel says this is his "final akuma" and that he'll reverse his mistakes with the wish. he promises he won't fail this time. sunken cost fallacy etc. it'll all be fine. (it will not all be fine)

chat blanc, instead of destroying the world, is scouring the paris skyline for ladybug. other heroes try to help, but chat blanc destroys almost all the other miraculous BESIDES the ladybug. gabriel keeps asking adrien for any info on ladybug, but adrien responds by simply destroying any memories before he has to fulfill the order.

marinette keeps getting strange dreams, and ladybug keeps finding hints about adrien's identity left behind by chat blanc. eventually, she figures out that if she really tries, through the miraculous and their close partnership, maybe she can share dreams with chat noir and unakumatize him that way. there's a whole mindscape episode where ladybug restores a lot of adrien's destroyed memories and adrien uses the black cat miraculous to destroy the link between him and his amok that makes him have to follow orders - and he's unakumatized.

they both detransform, unable to transform again after using the powers so long. gabriel tries to order adrien to give him the miraculous, but commands no longer work. gabriel, realizing that adrien exists outside of the amok, goes "oh shit my son is an individual. thats my SON." he goes "i can fix it" and finally gets the miraculous from the both of them exhausted and unable to fight back. of course, gabriel is still gabriel, even confronted with all the damage hes done. so gabriel gives up his own life to bring his first son back, instead of doing what he originally planned which was adrien for adrien. when he uses the wish, the ladybug and black cat miraculous break too.

adrien jr wakes up to paris in ruins, all the miraculous besides the butterfly/peacock destroyed, and no miracle cure. marinette and adrien sr are fucking EXHAUSTED and just staring gawking. adrien jr is like "whuh." and then you know. also passes out.

the only miraculous left are the butterfly + the peacock.

in the original plan, i had emilie also brought back in exchange for nathalie. emilie would want the miraculous herself in a "i have not learned my lesson from my husband at all, i'll continue where he failed. he must have fucked something up but i'm built different" because i love the agrestes and how they do the same stupid bullshit because they can't help themselves from repeating patterns over and over. and she attempts to try to restore the ladybug and black cat miraculous before marinette and adrien can. so adrien jr would be a part of that plotline where he's torn between clinging onto his mom and helping marinette & adrien with defeating her. i see him stealing the butterfly from emilie and akumatizing one of them and going "u-um!!! hi!!! how does this thing work-" LOL.

#cal answers #ask #luckychatons #replacement goldfish au #'why is there all of this in here cal' well i didnt know how the show would end!!! i had to work up to the wish from the ground up!!!#sorry for sacrificing s4-s5 for this

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lilacella · 2 months ago

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Is there more chaos AU???? Do Remus and James find Sirius??? What’s that hunk up to now??? 👀

Hello! I realise this ask was for part 5 but I will utilize it for part 6 😊

Tagging @polaroidcats for good measure! Can't let her miss this.

(Part 5)

Anyways, Part 6 let's go🥳:

What is beeping behind Remus? What could it be? It isn't his keychain - he is still holding that - OH.

Could it be?

He reaches back under James' confused eyes and indeed, on the floor in front of the backseats there is a small blinking keychain. Just like the one he has. Remus picks it up tentatively and waits until it stops beeping. Then he presses the button of the new keychain.

They immediately scramble out of the car looking for traces of footprints in the wet ground around the car but they can't find anything. Nor can they find any traces of forced entry on the car. No trace of Sirius to be found either.

The little heart on Remus' key starts to blink. So it's a couple set...

He exchanges a look with James.

Which means...the keychain was in the car all along!

With this newfound shocking news, they start searching the car, and - lo and behold - they find a rock in the trunk of the car! And not just a rock - a rock with another set of coordinates taped to the bottom!

Is Sirius hiding in there? Maybe he has set up a secret camp between some of the - very sparse - trees? Has he built a yurt unnoticed??

Is that were Sirius is?? They are EXCITED! James immediately video calls Lily and yells about it to a squealing Harry. He doesn't understand what's happening but is ready to be happy with dad in the little box.

After the call, James and Remus start the car and drive towards the location but are quickly stopped. The road ends and there is nothing but a small path leading into the national park...

Of course he hasn't, what a silly idea! Who would think of something like that? No, Sirius is in fact - and of course - hiding in a cave! He is not eating rats though. He has a little camping cooker and is living off of canned ravioli and shit like he's on a festival. But without the music. Sometimes he sings and it echoes in the cave...

He doesn't have to live in this cave. He could have found an empty house to squat in - this area is filled with rich people's empty holiday homes he could break into - he could have faked an identity to get a job, like he has done before... But after what happened he doesn't feel like he deserves to live a good life. He had one and he wasted it bit lying to Remus. And to James. Oh how he misses them! He never had someone that made him this happy 💔

So he left and hid here, and has since been facing the cold and the damp and the acid reflux from the canned food, dreaming of the soft bed and Remus' boney arms that held him so warm and cozy 😥

But some strange hope made him drop his keychain into James' car before jumping out and then - after seeing it parked at Remus' house when he snuck by to catch one final glimpse of the life he lost - a rock with the coordinates of the cave where he hid the money. Where they'd find him. If they came looking.

Now, "wait Sloth", you may call out! "They already found the money from the bank heist!"

Oh my dear children, you don't think that that's the only criminal thing this man ever did, don't you? It's just the one he got caught for!

Anyways so he is in his loot cave, practically sitting on his money like Smaug or a shipwrecked pirate - but the only thing he wants is his happy life back 😭💔 He would give up everything if he could just go back to that - to that normal life that he never really got the chance to attain in the first place...

Oh, but that won't ever happen. Remus will not come. James will not come. And if, then only to arrest him. Well, if that happens then so it be! Sirius is ready. If it means he gets to see them again one more time...

He gently cradles his gun in his hand.

#chaos amnesia au #sloth ask #if I ever write this I may change where they find the rock #I'm not super happy with it #I think maybe it needs to be somewhere else...idk?#maybe the coordinates could be on the keychain and then they go there and FIND a rock that has a very confusing map drawn on it #it could be a whole thing #but I couldn't decide and wanted to get this moving

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local-new-kid-super · 11 months ago

Text

Toolshed/Stan Marsh x GN!Reader

"Wiggin' Out!"

Featuring: Randy, Mysterion, Professor Timmy, and guest star LORDE!!!

Warnings: None! Just a bit of drinking and usual Randy shenanigans.

Synopsis: You have to make a suprise visit to the Freedom Pals hide out after a weird encounter with Mr. Marsh...

You're the New Kid, you work to protect the city because that's what heroes do. You look after the citizens, stopping robberies at City Wok and finding cat for some of the more... flamboyant members of the town. However, regardless of whether or not you work with Raccoon and Friends or The Freedom Pals, or even alone, you end up dealing with Randy more than the other citizens of South Park...

"Oh! H-hey, New Kid! I need to tell-you, urpppp..." Randy Marsh comes stumbling down the steps of his porch one night while you're trying to focus on patrol, and he puts his hands on his knees as he meets you height. "New kid, listen... I jus' wanna say, it's really fuckin' cool that you've got sssecret identity. It's important, doing good and shit-" He puts a hand on your shoulder. At least he's not actively fighting you about keeping his car keys again, he did a number on Scott.

"Thanks, Mr. Marsh, is there anything else you needed to tell me?" You ask, needing to either get back on patrol or get Mr. Marsh back into his house. He nods and stands fully, almost grave.

"Yes, I do need to tell you something, I'm glad you can tell." He looks of dramatically, and you can sense he's going to go on one of his Randy-Rants. "I understand the weight of a secret identity who does only good, and all the shit that comes with it. Having to sneak around, change outfits, hide money from fucking Sharon..."

"Sir, what are you-"

"That's right, New Kid. I am Lorde." He continues after taking another swig. "And *urp*, I'm willing to teach you, be your Mr. Miyagi, you just gotta help me out-" He stumbles over to his car, unlocking the back. You sign and post up, prepared to take his keys again, when he pulls something from the back seat. "Take ,y w-wig to the dry cleaners, I need full blow out f-for my next show. I'll start training you when you get back-" He chucks the wig at you with poor aim, and it just flops onto the ground beside you, now caked in stray hairs and snow. You pick it up with a gloved hand, sure to avoid touching your skin with it. Before you can even ask him if he'll pay you or tell him that's not what you do, he's back on his porch, asleep and mumbling "Yeah, yeah, yeah... I'm Lorde... yeah..."

Reluctantly, you make your way over to the suburb in the northeast part of town, 'Dark Meadows', and make your way over to the Freedom Pals base. The Raccoon would kick your ass if he knew you were here, but frankly, you just want to get this wig handed off to someone before it gives you some sort of disease or infection.

Ringing the doorbell of Tupperware's house, you wait until a lady with her hair up in a red headband opens it, quirking a brow before nodding. "Oh, you must be one of Tolkien's hero friends! The boys are in the basement, refreshments are upstairs."

You nod, as as you approach the basement door with a nanny cam, you can feel a harsh shiver run down your spine, as if the cold hand of the reaper just smacked you right on the ass. Turning around, the caped crusader known as Mysterion is glaring at you from the shadowed corner of the Black family living room.

"State your business, Raccoon Friend." He spits, posture tense as if preparing for battle. Even if you don't pose a threat right now, chances are Mysterion will still kick your ass. You know how he can be. Putting your hands up in a sign of surrender, you shake your head rapidly.

"I just need to talk to Toolshed, that's all. I'm not here for Raccoon, I'm not trying anything. I came alone, a-and I'm unarmed." You stammer out. Mysterion freaks you out, he was the first hero in town and clearly the most capable. It doesn't help that he's the only hero whose identity you don't at least have a suspicion about.

"I don't fucking buy it." Mysterion stands up from his leaning position, approaching with a snarl. "Get out, or I'll send you back to that fatass in a box-" Before he can get close enough to physically make good on his promise, a voice echoes in your mind, and apparently Mysterion hears it too, as he stands at attention with a huff.

"Now, now, Mysterion," Professor Timmy chides, coming up the stairs with the help of Toolshed and Tupperware, his chair clanking at the two heroes struggle to move it up. "We see the best in everyone, and I can sense the New Kid's intentions are genuine. We must grant everyone a chance to plead their case. Toolshed, take a break. Mysterion, come back downstairs for the briefing, and keep your temper in check." Mysterion casts you one last stinging glance before he heads down the stairs. Tupperware shakes his head as he motions for Wonder Tweek to help him out.

"G-gah! Can't you get a wheelchair lift, T-tupperware? You have money!" Tweak stammers as he begins to descend the stairs.

"You'd think with Professor Timmy's psychic powers he could do this himself..." Tupperware mumbles as the three disappear from view. Toolshed turns to you, giving you a once over. Ever since you prevented his dad from drunk driving, he's been a little warmer to you than the other Freedom Pals.

"Uh- hey, New Kid? What do you need?" Toolshed asks, clearly a little wary, seeing as you still have some ties to Raccoon and Friends. All you can do is hold out the gross wig, unsure how to even explain what happened with his dad earlier. Luckily for you, he understand immediately, brows flattening as he rubs his forehead. "Jesus fucking christ-" He looks back up. "He told you he's Lorde?"

"Yeah, and he gave me this wig, told me to-"

"Go to the dry cleaners and get his wig a blow out, yeah, he's always doing shit like this. And don't let him 'Mr. Miyagi' you either, he did that to me when I took Karate in third grade. He just wants you to fix the dents in the car and clean the windows before my mom notices he messed it up.Here," Toolshed flinches as he takes the wig. "I'll handle it, New Kid. Thanks for helping out my dad... again. I hope this doesn't mean I know you another favor because I'm not really interested in helping Raccoon again." He says, and you both chuckle.

"Yeah, it's no problem, is your dad like, okay though? He kind of all over the place."

Toolshed just shrugs. "Eh. He'll be fine, he always weird like that. Listen, take this." He hands you a slip of paper with his Raccoonstagram tag and his phone number. "I don't think Mysterion will like it very much if you keep showing up in case you see my dad being weird again, so just message me whenever and I'll swing by and deal with it."

You smile as you type the info into your cell. "Gee, thanks, Toolshed. Maybe I could text you even if your dad is perfectly fine?" You asks with a teasing tone, causing the raven-haired hero to go stiff.

"Uh- yeah. Yeah." He says, gulping a little as his grips his tool belt. "I gotta go, I think m' gonna be sick-" he rushes off towards Tupperware's bathroom, leaving you worried you said the wrong thing.

Later that night though, you get a reassuring text. "Hey, New Kid, sorry to rush off on you. Think I just ate something weird. Text me anytime." This is followed by a "Please."

You just laugh and shake your head as you plug in your phone, setting it on the nightstand. One things for sure, that guys just as weird as his father.

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