#my boss is one year older than me and i get along great with her

[dora-winifred]

hmmm so 2.5 weeks ago i asked my boss to write me a letter of recommendation and i told her i needed it by 1/23....i can see that she has not submitted it yet and also she left today for a trip and will be back in the office next thursday...hm.....

[bernardisgross]

Bim bam boum ! Here's the whole comic i drew for Crossroads @zine--garden , a zine focused one showing and sharing love for Hunter x Hunter ^^

I chose to focus on my two favorite teachers !!!

Bonus, making of & talk in the read more⬇

I was very happy to be able to participate and even more happy to finally share a headcanon i've had for years about Bisky and Wing's meeting.

I don't know how clear it is but basically, Wing is a young nen user who happens to have been taken in by a big criminal family. The boss is using his abilities to forge precious gems from cheap materials, passing them as precious gems he bought for his collection. As a renown collector, he also sells the gems and makes tons of money from it. As Wing's skills become sharper though, his forged gems become more and more precious, making it difficult to tell them apart from real ones.

Having sold a good gem in a batch of "bad" ones, the boss is trying to get it back, framing his client as a thief. He calls for Bisky (a "young" hunter with a good resume) planning to trick her into committing insurance fraud in his place. Unfortunately, she's got a better eye than he thought, and asks for the good gem as compensation.

Feeling antsy about his money, the boss accepts, already planning to get rid of her once the job is done.

Bisky can sense the residual nen from Wing the moment she meets him, that's why she demands he comes with her. She wants to make sure at first that this is a normal child in the wrong place rather than the boss's actual associate.

Making him her disciple just came along the way because she honestly didn't know what to do with that kid LOL but didn't want to return him to a bad place. Also, she saw his potential. Here's a rejected final page (rejected bc I couldn't tie the text properly and wasn't very happy with the visual) where it's a bit clearer that she's got back with the good gem and values it a lot BECAUSE it was made by Wing. (also metaphor, analogy blabla)

I love teachers/masters in stories, i love that trope so much!! It's always so interesting to me to have someone older and wiser share their knowledge with the young waiting for nothing in return. Nurturing and loving, becoming a support with the only satisfaction to witness the growth and blossoming of someone else. I think it's so beautiful to help others in this way, to give a little of yourself with kindness.

I think if touches on other tropes i'm sensitive to like found family etc... So of course, i've loved Bisky & Wings for a looong time, and i'm even more obsessed with the fact they're on the same line of teachers 🥺💕

I was always curious about how they could have met and what could have moved Bisky to take him under ... her ..................... wing.....🔥🔥🔥 lol... anyways !!! I went full indulgence and comics are not my thing at all so if you've enjoyed it, i'm very very, very blessed and happy ^^ !!!

I've also included a rejected sketch of the cover with big Bisky :3

and here's a look at all her outfits !! I love Lolita alt fashion soo much, i do tend to latch onto characters who dress like this... and love making my own outfits for them too !!!

I also made a sticker of Palm for the merch bundles !!

Thank you so much if you've picked up Crossroads, it was great from the start !! I'm so lucky and so grateful to @/gachahugs and all the contributors for having me ^^ !! thank you thank you !

[mastermindmiko]

Gatherings at the Burrow (Ron edition)

Pairing: Ron Weasley + Reader Warnings: none, but lmk Word count: 4627 words Summary: Gatherings at the Burrow, through a series of events always lead to a happy couple forming, this time it's Ron's turn.

I'm going to make this a little series with each Weasley having a chapter with sort of the same overarching theme, I'm not going to set any deadlines, cause we all know I'm not good with that, but here is the first one!

Gatherings at the Burrow have never been anything short of brilliant, I've only ever gone there for three years, but each year seems to be better than the one before it.

"You really should visit more often, dear." Molly says, whilst giving me a hug as soon as I enter. I raise my voice, sure to make sure that a certain someone that is also present hears, "I would, If my stupid boss gave me some time off every once in a while!"

"Go complain about it to HR!" Percy yelled back from the kitchen. Molly leads me to the living room where the whole room is filled with excitement. I wave to everyone and then take a seat next to my closest friend in the room Ronald Weasley.

"I haven't heard from you in a while, I almost thought about visiting Percy at work just to see you." Ron says, pressing a kiss to my cheek as greeting. I smile at the gesture and replied, "Since when was two days ever considered a while."

"It is when you're my friend." Ron says with a cheeky grin. Harry waves from behind Ron, and I say, "It must be terrible working with him everyday."

"It is..." Harry agrees, "Especially when he only talks about you or the Chudly Canons."

I flush a deep shade of red and pretend to not notice the way Ron shoves Harry. The twins babble about their new inventions and how great the shop's been ever since they finally rebuilt after the war. The older Weasleys (Bill and Charlie, along with their father) bicker about how Bill can't give his child candy after seven at night. Ginny telling Fleur how excited she is about her first Quidditch game as the Chaser of the Holyhead Harpies next week.

Even with all the clatter and noise, it's still very comforting, even more so when Ron slips his arm around my back. Another person enters the room and Ginny runs excitedly to the door. I hear a load of giggles and at their recognizable sound, Ron removes his arm from around me.

Ron and Hermione got together as soon as the war ended. I only got to know them when I started working for Percy, especially since the twins wanted to know who 'Percy's new victim' was. They seemed so happy together but before their one year mark, they broke it off. It's been two years since, I can't help but wonder if they sometimes think it's a mistake.

I've never been one to meddle, but as Hermione sat across from us, next to Ginny and Fleur, I couldn't help but notice the way Ron was avoiding her eyes. He'd only gave her a half-assed wave when she entered the room.

With my heart (for some absurd reason) heavier, I sighed and went to the kitchen to get myself a drink. I stand up and Ron's hand wraps around my wrist. He asks, "Where are you going?"

"I'm going to go get a drink, want one?" I asked, and he shakes his more than half full cup at me with an appreciative smile. I turn to everybody in the room and shout, "Anyone want a drink?"

The room quiets before everyone starts telling me their drink orders, hectic as always, just the way I love it. I head to the kitchen and Percy's got his papers set out in front of him, working. I walk in, and say, "You can't be married to your work forever, you know."

"I'm aware..." He trails off, as he continues to read some paper, underlining certain aspects. He continues, "But until that day..."

He continues to work, not even sparing me a glance as I start filling up eight glasses with drinks, trying not to get in Molly's way while she's cooking. I say, "You can afford to not work, excessively for one day, you know."

"I'm aware of that too." Percy says, and I slide his drink across the counter to him. The noise alerts him and he reaches out to grab it before it slides off the edge. He opens his mouth, but I interrupt him, "You can't possibly be doubting my ability to make a drink for you after three years."

He presses his lips into a firm line, and nods his head in thanks. I've learned to pick up on his mannerisms over the years. I try one last time, "Percy, come on, everyone's waiting for you, and I really don't want to spend the night, thinking that you're here all alone, working."

"I'm hardly alone, I've got mom."

"Who's about to finish cooking and will light up your papers, if you don't spend time with your family." Molly threatens, and Percy's wise enough to start packing up his papers. I finish up the last of the drinks, and place a spell to send each of them to their respective owners.

"Are you sure you don't need any help, Molly?" I offer for the third time that night, careful not to call her Mrs. Weasley as to avoid getting scolded. "No, no, no, you go rest my dear, and you enjoy your time, I simply do not know how we spent all those years without you."

"Your youngest son is to blame for that." I say, blushing at Molly's kindness. Molly fumes, "I honestly do not know how you were with that boy in school not only for seven but for eight years, and he's never even talked to you, I know he regrets it, all those years he's wasted not being in love with you."

"He's not in love with me-"

"He is." Percy interrupts me, and I say, "He's still hung up on Hermione, that's for sure. Besides, he's expressed his feelings about dating his friend more than once with me..."

After Hermione and Ron broke up, it sort of shattered the dynamic for a bit. All the awkwardness hung in the air, and even if it's mostly faded by now, Ron always says how he'd never date a friend, and how he'd rather face Voldemort again than go through all of that again. Sometimes when he talks about it, I feel as though he is looking right through me, warning me even.

"Ron's always been a bit daft when it comes to matters like these, give him a bit." Percy says, and I roll my eyes, I'd be foolish to even allow myself a sliver of hope, especially since I couldn't care less about who Ron dates.

I head back into the living room and once again the only spot left is beside Ron, I sit back down next to him on the sofa. Percy enters the room and the twins shuffle aside to provide a place for him, and Fred sends me a wink while George wiggles his eyebrows between me and Ron.

I roll my eyes at their antics, and Ron says, "There's something I haven't told you."

I shift all of my focus to him, and gesture for him to keep talking. Ron explains, "You know how strict the ministry is about breaking Auror Protocol, even more so when you've just finished training- like me, and long story short, I broke protocol, and now I'm suspended for two weeks."

"Ron! Have you told your family about this?"

"No."

"What did you even break protocol for?" I ask, furiously. It's already nerve wrecking enough that he's an Auror, dealing with all these dark wizards constantly, and not just him, but Harry too. Ron says, "Harry was in trouble."

I sigh, knowing that there is no way I could scold him for that. I place my palm on his forearm and say, "You've still got to be careful, Ron."

"I know, I can't have anymore dark wizards harming anyone I care about." He says, and he looks at me, that look, that stupid stupid look with his stupid blue eyes. I feel the butterflies flutter in my stomach. I urge them to stop, these are dangerous feelings and I will not have them.

"You really should tell them, sooner rather than later too." I advise, and he nods. He continues to look intently into my eyes, if this wasn't Ron, I'd be sure that he was going to kiss me, but Ron wouldn't dare. He'd sooner kiss an enemy rather than a friend.

He clears his throat, looking away, and pulling away from my touch. The butterflies die, and they are replaced with a painful feeling in my chest. He leans down, elbows on his thighs. He says, "I hear you're moving."

"Yeah."

"With um Thomas?" Ron says, and it's at moments like these where I think that there's something more. I reply, "Dean? No, it's not like that with him."

"You aren't dating?" Ron says, looking at me, eyes wide. I swallow, "No, I would've told you if I was dating someone, and it's been like that with Dean anyways."

He nods, and gulps down a few sips of his drink. He straightens his back and asks, "When are you moving?"

"I'll be officially moved in by Saturday."

*** ⋆｡°✩***

"Thanks for helping me Dean."

He sets down the last of the boxes, and he wipes away a bit of sweat from his forehead. He smiles, tired but genuine. I add, "I really appreciate it."

"You know I love spending time with you, but why couldn't Weasley help you out?" Dean asks, and I turn around and start pulling out a few items from the box entitled kitchen. I act, "Percy? He's working yet again, could not get him away even with a-"

"No, Ron. I'm sure he'd be happy to help, after all he is in love with you." Dean explains, looking at me intently, I turn around to face him and sigh. I haven't told Dean about the many conversation I've had with Ron regarding this topic. Last he talked about it was during Bill's birthday party, less than a month ago.

"Congratulations Bill! You're not only old, but you're very old!" George lifts a glass and laughs. The laughter echoes around the table, as Bill shoves his younger brother. Bill replies, "In a blink of an eye, you'll be even older than I am."

George waves his hand dismissively, and sits down next to his future wife Angelina. He wraps an arm around her and gives her a kiss on her temple. I could only hope to be that in love with someone someday. I can imagine how wonderful it would be, the kisses, the stolen glances, the words of appreciation-

"It's manic if you ask me." Ron whispers in my ear over the loud music in the club. I turn to look at him faces so close that I can could the freckles on his cheeks. I ask, "What is?"

"Dating your friend." Ron says, and I sigh, getting ready for another monologue. He starts, "If they break up, not only would if effect them, but also the whole group, I mean, he'd lose her and maybe even Lee, not to mention, it would put Fred in an awkward spot, who to chose, and-"

"I think it's wonderful." I stop him, and he raises an inquisitive eyebrow, I start my own rant, "You wouldn't have to go through any of that first date awkwardness of not knowing what to say or what to do. You wouldn't worry about what to get them for gifts because you've already gotten them gifts your whole life. You'd feel comfortable around them and you'd feel like they're your best friend too. My favorite part of it is that when you get older, and have kids, and grandkids and all that, you'd have so many more stories to tell them about how much that person means to you even before you ever fell in love with them."

I take in a breath, looking at George and Angelina, Bill and Fleur, Luna and Ginny, hoping that someday I might have what they have. I turn to look at Ron whose been silent since I've finished talking, and I could feel the gears spinning in his head, and I could see his cheeks turn red. He says, "You didn't think of one last thing."

"What is it?"

"That if you lost them, it would hurt a million times more."

Dean says, trying to convince me of my hidden love for Ron, "Don't give me any of your bullshit, I'm the one person who knows you better than he does..."

He takes a step towards me and places a hand on my cheek. He bends down and presses a small peck to my lips. He whispers, cheeky, "And that's only because I've been inside you."

I gasp, and hit him arm playfully, he laughs, and I turn red. "And you love him too, and don't even try to object."

"We've been at this for seven years now, and the only times when you stop kissing me or more is when you're in love with someone. The first time, it was with Neville and now, it's with Ron. You can deny it all you want like I know you've been, but you're going to find out soon enough."

"I really hate you sometimes, you know." I huff, pursing my lips. He smiles, "You know you love me."

I break into a smile, and wrap my arms around him in a friendly hug. He reciprocates, and then presses a sweet kiss to my cheek. He sighs, "I've got to go meet up with Seamus."

"Okay, thanks again for helping." I say, and the doorbell interrupts us. I wasn't expecting anyone. I walk over to the door, and open it. Before the war ended, I would've never done such a thing, but now I can open the door to my home without worrying about being attacked.

Ron stands with his face flushed a bouquet of my favorite flowers. Dean picks up his bag from the ground, and that's when Ron notices him, his expression hardens immediately. Dean says goodbye to both Ron and I then walks out the door.

I don't mind Dean's flirts from behind Ron, as I roll my eyes, and pull Ron inside. I close the door behind us, pressing my back against it. A smile on my mouth, as I wait for Ron to say something. Ron asks, "Is that Thomas?"

"Yes, you've shared a dorm with him for seven years, I figured you'd know what he looks like by now." I joke, but my grin drops when Ron scoffs and lowers the bouquet. Ron asks, "What was he doing here?"

"He helped me move in." I explained. He frowns and says, "Magic couldn't help you with all those boxes?"

"Not in a muggle neighborhood, no." I say, and Ron folds his arms. The bouquet bunches up at the ends from the action. I tentatively take a step towards him and I question, "What are the flowers for?"

"And you didn't think to ask me for help?" Ron snaps, and his tone surprises me. I shrug my shoulders and say, "I thought you'd be busy, and I wouldn't want to bother you."

"But you'd bother Dean all you'd like."

"Why are you saying his name like that? You guys are friends." I say, appalled by his tone, spitting venom. Ron sets the flowers down on one of the random boxes that surround us, and spits, "If you didn't want to tell me about your personal life that's fine, but you didn't have to lie to me."

"I didn't lie to you about anything." I defend, getting heated up myself at all his accusations. He shouts, "And Thomas only came here to help you move."

"Yes!"

"I'm not an idiot, I know what's going on between the two of you." Ron says, and I sigh, exasperated, "Nothing is happening!

"Please! It's been happening since third year." Ron says, and I huff, "Yes, but it's stopped, for a while actually. And you don't get to do this! I don't owe you any information about my life that I don't want to share."

"My mistake, I actually thought we were friends."

"We are friends, but you don't get to accuse me of things that only you see, and even if I was dating him, why would it be any of your business?" I shout, and he opens his mouth to retort, but then shuts his mouth and the door of my new apartment right behind him.

*** ⋆｡°✩***

I still hadn't gotten over what happened with Ron by the time that I go into work on Monday. The first thing I notice is Mr. Weasley not standing beside me in the elevator. The second thing I notice is the lack of red hair on my way to my office. The third and most concerning thing is that Percy Weasley, the Percy Weasley has submitted an absence notice.

If Percy is not working that must mean that something awful has happened. I send a Patronus to Percy and hope that he sends a reply quickly, my worry has me waiting twenty minutes before I rush to my supervisor's office to ask her what happened.

I knock on her door, and wait for her sharp voice yell a sound of acknowledgement. I walk into her office and stand in the middle of the room with my heels digging into her thick fur carpet. I say, "I'm sorry to disturb you, but I was wondering if you knew why Per- Mr. Weasley isn't here today."

"It was a surprise to me too, if I'm being honest." Her voice is harsh as she scribbles something down with her quill. She continues in a slow voice that has be just about ready to start yelling for her to get out with it, "Something about a family member in the hospital."

My heart lodges into my throat, and I think of all the horrible horrible possibilities as I excuse myself and nearly run to the apparition grounds to make it to St. Mungo's.

Molly's been getting really tired with her old age what if something happened to her, and Mr. Weasley too especially after Nagini attacked him a few years ago. What about Fred and George? They couldn't survive without each other! What about Bill? He's got a kid now!

Ron...what if something happened to Ron? Despite his stubborn attitude and insane jealousy, I don't know what I'd do without him. I haven't heard from him since the fight either. My fast paced walking turns into a full blown run, and as soon as I make it to the apparition grounds, I recklessly apparate without any regard for my safety.

What would I do if I didn't have to spend a decent amount of time writing him a letter everyday? What would I do if I had to spend a day without his incessant nagging and his irrational logic, and his gentleness and care, and his dumb smile.

St. Mungo's isn't as busy as it usually is. The receptionist tells me the ward that an unspecified Weasley is staying in, and I'm sure that I look insane, running like a mad woman to get to the proper room. I can feel my heart pumping in my ears as I see a sea of red hair. I see them one by one; Molly, Arthur, Percy, Bill, Charlie, Fred, George and-

"Ron!" I say, as I wrap my arms around him in a bone crushing hug. He's takes a step back from the sheer force of my hug, and encases me in his arms. I pull back and the words spill from my mouth, "I came as soon as I heard, I thought something happened to you."

"People should know that not all Weasleys are interchangeable, they should always mention who got hurt, I was so scared that something happened to Percy or Fred or Bill or-"

"It's Ginny who's hurt." Ron explains, and I feel stupid with the way I've been complaining when someone is hurt, and even more so when I feel everyone's teasing eyes on us. I ask, "What happened?"

"She fell off her broom in a match, and she would've been fine if she wasn't hit by a bludger too." He says and I scrunch up my face at the description. I just can't imagine what poor Ginny must be feeling right now. I ask, "What did the healer say?"

"That she's in stable condition, she's not awake at the moment, but none of the broken bones are that serious. She won't be playing for a while, but nothing is permanent, and she'll be okay." Ron says, and I nod my head. My relief along with worry take over my body.

I look into Ron's eyes, and lift my hand up to cup his cheek. I sigh, looking at him. Grateful that nothing's happened to him. The relief is too overwhelming that I believe I can't deny what I'm feeling any longer. He gives me that look, and he pulls me in by my waist.

Ron was right, it would hurt a million times more if I lost him. That's when his touch felt like fire, and I could feel my throat close up. I can't believe I let this happen. I fell for him, for this moron standing in front of me right now. I let out a shaky breath, and pull away from his grasp.

My initial reaction is to run away and never look back, but instead, I go sit next to Percy, who has worry radiating off him. I provide support for the rest of the Weasley family, not sparing Ron one glance, hoping that the words don't tumble from my throat.

*** ⋆｡°✩***

The next Weasley gathering was in celebration of Christmas getting closer and closer as well as Ginny's fast and marvelous recovery. No one, not even the healer's expected her to bounce back that quickly, but Ginny is an amazing witch, it was foolish to not expect it.

I wasn't going though, I'd sent Ginny a gift, and an apology to Molly for not being able to make it. My obstacle at the current moment was trying to get Percy to leave the office to go to said gathering without me. I say, "I can't go, Percy."

"You say that but you still haven't provided a valid excuse." Percy says, and I shrug my shoulders, "I've got work."

"Did you forget that I'm the one who gives you that work? You don't have anything to finish!" Percy says, exasperated, and I sigh, "I just can't Percy."

"But if you-"

"I can't." I stop him sharply, I run a hand through my hair, hopelessly and whisper, "Not while he's there..."

"I'm sure Ron wouldn't mind it, you had a fight, all friends fight. It's normal." Percy reassures me, and I feel my eyes water as I begin to explain, "I fell for him, Percy, and even if he does like me back...You know how he feels about dating his friends, imagine how he would feel about dating me, who is a friend and even considered a member of his family."

"I'm sure everything will be alright." He says, before mumbling something quietly under his breath. He apparates to the Burrow and I organize my office before going back to my apartment for the weekend. I place the pens back into my case. The paper sin the drawers and I lock them up with enchantments and passwords.

I hated not being at the Burrow, not making everyone their drinks, not seeing Ginny after being very worried about her. I couldn't believe that I let my feelings influence my life this much, especially when it came to the Weasleys. They are some of the most important people in my life, and I couldn't-

"Percy told me you'd be here."

I gasp at the voice, and I spin to where it came from. Ron. The silence was thick between us. I cleared my throat, and turned around to continue sorting papers into stacks. I ask, "How's Ginny?"

"Good..." He trails off and the silence spreads over us once more. I ignore it this time and try to focus on getting the organization done as soon as I can to get back home. I'm not sure how long it is before I feel him wrap his arms around my middle and spin me around to face him.

"Mom was disappointed you didn't come." Ron said, and I hoped what he really meant was 'I was disappointed you didn't come.' I don't say a thing, and he pulls me closer to him. The butterflies threaten to swallow me whole. I push his arms away, and I say, "Ron, you should get going."

"Why?"

I try to push passed him but he cages me in between his arms and my desk. I look past him focusing on a picture hung in my office behind him. He adds, "Didn't you think I would notice the way you've been giving everyone the cold shoulder since you saw us at St. Mungo's?"

I stay silent, he was right. I didn't send any letters, and the replies that I've sent were dry to say the least. He says, "I'm sorry, if this is because of the fight, but-"

"It's not because of the fight." I reply, and look at him. I can see the desperation in his eyes, and it gets my heart pumping faster. Ron furrows his eyebrows, and questions, "What is it then?"

My eyes well up, and I look down at the ground. Ron lifts my chin up with his index finger. He says, "You can tell me anything, you know..."

I let out a bittersweet laugh, and sniffle, "Not this, you'll hate me for it."

"I could never hate you." He reassures me, but he doesn't know how little it does. I feel a tear fall, and I cover my face with both my palms. I sob, "I'm so sorry, Ron, I didn't mean to, I promise."

"I'm in love with you." I say, the weight off my shoulders and onto my chest as I await his response, tears falling faster than before. I hear him take in a shaky breath before wrapping his fingers around my wrists. He pulls down my palms away from my face. His movements are slow and they feel like torture, waiting for him to say something or do something.

He gazes at me, and I feel even worse than before, I can't lose him. I can feel another apology about to tumble from lips when he silences me. I'm completely irresponsive as I feel his lips against mine and the feeling of his palms on my cheeks spreading to the rest of my face. I pull away from his lips and ask, "But you said-"

"Everything I've ever said about not wanting to date a friend was a weak and desperate attempt of trying to get you to not fall for Dean." Ron says, and I question, "But when Hermione-"

"The reason why Hermione and I broke up was as I told you, I didn't like her anymore, but the other reason was because my older brother's secretary had it out for me and my heart, and I couldn't spend another moment away from her. I didn't want to rub it in Hermione's face, but I should've handled it better than that."

"You're acting very mature right now." I say, beginning to light up, and Ron chuckles, "Bill had a talk with me after you left St. Mungo's, I've been waiting for the right time to talk to you about it."

"Remind me to thank Bill."

[dark-orca-dynasty]

Finally, my OG emo boy! I should have drawn him in a The Smiths t-shirt but NIN is sooo much easier. Yes I have drawn Alpheus in more or less this exact same outfit. Don't @ me, it's easy and I could not be bothered drawing a second pair of boots. Maybe both the Aronnax and Alpheus' squid sub just have floors designed for wetsuit boots, who knows! Also I didn't bother flipping his hair around like I did for Alpheus because at this point Cain does not care about how he looks. and I also just could not be bothered.

Cain: Yeah so I have a job now, but the bloke who arranged it for me warned me that my boss would absolutely feed me to the sharks if I did anything to her daughter Finn: lmao, what's your job anyway? Cain: I'm interning with Kaiko Nekton on the Aronnax Finn: [✓ seen]

Cain was the edgy bad-boy love interest in my favourite book series in high school, and much like with Tallulah, I have just been sticking him wherever he fits in everything else I've gotten into since then. I've even managed to fit the two of them in a HTTYD AU that I never got around to writing.

Anyway he's the other friend mentioned in Finn's bio, the one whose mother walked out on him. He's the youngest of three brothers, and about a year older than Finn. The two of them wavered between inseperable and estranged depending on how recently Finn had talked to his mother and therefore how jealous Cain was feeling about her continued if distant presence in the younger boy's life. Later, once Tallulah showed up and befriended Finn, Cain alternated between being jealous that she spent time with the younger boy and desperate for an in with her because he himself continually managed to offend her.

He eventually manages to win her over with Finn's help, as just a friend, but his ex takes offense to that and turns out to be a far better shot than her mother was when she was chasing after Cain. Finn had already made plans to leave Heckmondwhite at that point, but Tallulah gets pulled from school after being shot leaving Cain with no friends in town and only Finn messaging him. He is not doing so great emotionally at this point, and his father manages to get a friend (Tallulah's dad, who canonically is something of a naturalist and studies mollusks) to figure out a way to get him out of town. Cain does not realise his father's friend is Tallulah's dad because the man is built like comic book wolverine and Cain was picturing someone more along the lines of Loki.

Kaiko agrees to take on an intern because she could use some help keeping her workspace in order and doesn't want to force her kids to do it and end up making them hate the lab. Someone who signed up for it, however, is free game. She's not exactly happy that Liam told the kid about the assault charge, but she did kind of owe the man a favour after how often he covered for her in Uni.

[candied-boys]

Luke's POV x F! Reader - Part 1

Warning: Dark Content!

Including but not limited to references to prostitution, child neglect and abuse, war and death, PTSD, flashbacks, nightmares, suicidal ideation, and historically accurate ages for relations. The dark content is almost entirely drawn from/same as Luke's route.

Themes: protection, hurt and comfort, mutual healing, learning to trust, letting yourself feel, and eventually giving into love. Everything is written from Luke's POV.

Part 2

Your boss said you he'd make sure you get a “real good one” tonight. A bonus to go along with your promotion, if you will.

You don't actually care though.

You're just here because it's part of your job — another calculated move that keeps him in your pocket so that you can secure a position as a knight in the palace.

You don't have anything to care about anymore.

You don't have morals left either.

You're essentially dead inside.

You won't complain about getting a little relief — the only other outlet for your frustration being war games and military exercises.

You try not to take out your pent up anguish on the women employed in this wretched business, but it's easy to get a little rough when they take it so well.

You came back to Rholodite seven or eight years ago now. Being in the military meant it was inevitable that you'd have to put up with this aspect of the job eventually.

You tried making excuses that you were too young, too tired, too poor, too busy and so on, but they only worked for so long.

At some point, rejecting the offer came with consequences. Snubbing your boss implies that you take issue with his choices, and coming off as holier-than-thou is great way to get demoted.

You have too many items left on your checklist to get held back now. It's already been too many years — almost more than you can handle.

So here you sit, waiting in some ramshackle room for some sordid whore, drinking some vile shine and hoping it'll take edge off.

It doesn't.

Between your height and your drinking habits, you would need to drink half a bottle or more just to feel a buzz. In truth, you keep your tolerance high intentionally.

You can't afford to get caught off guard.

Hence you're not surprised in the least when the faint kerfuffle you heard begin upstairs ten minutes ago makes its way into the hallway and ends with the door to the room opened and slammed shut behind the girl who gets shoved in.

Tear-stained cheeks.

Pupils blown wide with terror.

Breathing shallow and ragged.

Stance defensive.

Arms curled into her chest.

Obvious rope burn around her wrists.

Swollen wounds from lashing visible beneath the thin fabric of her nightgown.

She can't be any older than Leyla — sixteen at most…

Your blood runs cold.

You grab the scabbard resting against the wall and sling it over your shoulder.

Her eyes feverishly search the space for an escape but find none.

She scampers away when you approach as if she could outrun you within the confines of the room.

You don't bother taking a second glance before walking out.

Two steps and you've caught your target by the arm. No doubt she's the one who shoved the girl in.

“What the fuck is that?” you demand, pointing at the door you exited.

Looking you once over the madam answers cooly, “Your boss asked for the best we have, so I gave you the new one to break in. Is there a problem with the girl?”

“She's not the problem. How the hell did she end up here?”

The woman cocks a painted brow and replies haughtily, “The same way most of them do. Her father sold her to pay off his gambling debt. If you'd rather have a different one, we have plenty of others. You can take your pick.”

“How much did y’ pay for her?” you growl, patience running thin as your fingers begin to dig into her arm.

Snatching herself from your grip, she answers contemptuously, “What's it to you? Look if you don't want her, I have plenty of customers who do.”

“Oh, I want her,” you snarl. Out of this cesspool. “I'm takin’ her with me. So answer my question. What’s the price?”

“I'm not selling her, boy. She'll be worth a hell of a lot more over the course of a few years than the five silver coins I paid for her yesterday.”

“I don't think y’ heard me right,” you hiss and draw your sword from its scabbard. “I said, I'm. Takin’. Her.”

“Like hell you are!” she screeches behind you as you turn on your heel and slam open the door.

Shaking in fear, the girl all but collapses to the floor as you draw near.

Yanking the yellowed sheet from the bed, you stand her up forcibly and wrap it around her barely clad frame.

Too terrified to protest, the girl neither cries nor pleads.

Hiking her over your shoulder with one arm and bearing your weapon with the other you make your way out.

“You can't just run off with her! She's property of the establishment now!”

Pointing your sword at the woman, you reiterate for the last time, “Y’ will put the bill on my tab, and y’ will relinquish her to me. Do I make myself clear, Madam?”

You sheathe your sword once outside, relieved you didn't have to skewer those two drunkards she sent after you. Both hands now free, you cradle the trembling bundle of sheets to your chest.

You know that in your disgust you've been rough with the girl, but a dark road lined with brothels isn't a nice place for a chat in the middle of the night, so you make haste.

After unlocking the door to the little rented apartment in the centre of town, you set her down gently on the bed and begin stoking the few embers still burning in the fireplace. When the kindling crackles and the chilly autumn air starts to warm, you fetch the wash basin and fill the jug from the water you boiled this morning.

As you kneel level to her where she sits with her knees curled into her chest she starts frantically babbling through tears.

“I'll do whatever you want! I promise! Just please don't kill me! The other girls said sometimes the new ones don't come back, but please! I'll do anything you want me to! Just don't kill me!”

Trained to remain stoic at all times, you don't show the shock you feel at the horrific image she paints as you hear her voice for the first time. Setting aside the items in your hand, you lay your palms face up in front of her so she can see your every move.

“Hey, it's okay. Y're safe now. I'm not gonna hurt y’. Y're never goin’ back there.”

It's obvious from her trembling gaze and shivering body that she doesn't believe you.

“I'm Luke. What's your name?”

“Honey…” she murmurs, voice hoarse and cracked.

Furrowing your brow, you ask again, “No, y’r real name. Not the one they gave y’ there.”

There's a long pause. Her fearful eyes glaze over with an emptiness you're all too familiar with.

“I don't know…”

“Y’ don't know?” you catch yourself repeating as an old wound reopens inside you.

“My father always just called me girl… or more often wench…”

Terrified expressions…

Absolute avoidance…

Complete silence…

You manage to beat back the memories threatening to well up within just enough to find your voice once more.

“Alright. Honey it is then, I guess. ‘less y’ prefer somethin’ else?”

She simply shakes her head, tears still streaming down her round cheeks.

“Here. Wash y’r face.”

Pouring out the water over a cloth, you ring it out and offer it to her. A beat falls between her eyeing the item warily and unfastening her clenched fists from the linen sheet she holds so tight.

“They take y’r shoes so y’ couldn't run away?” you ask as she hands back the cloth, tear stains finally wiped away.

“Yes, sir.”

“Just Luke is fine.”

“Luke?”

“Mhm. Luke. Here. Set ‘em down and I'll wash ‘em for y’.”

Frowning at the trepidation creasing her pretty features, you quickly surmise what happened.

“They cut y’r feet so y’ couldn't get far even if y’ tried?”

You can't help the sigh that escapes when she nods and tears up again.

Sick. I hate this world and I hate living in it. God, I can't wait for this all to be over.

Standing up you gather what you need to treat the injuries and return to sit at her feet, then motion for her to drop her legs from her chest. You can't bring yourself to speak, but she does as she's wordlessly told.

As you dip her toes into the basin she flinches. As gently as you can, you scrub the dirt off with the cloth before rinsing each foot with clean water from the jug.

“They take y’r clothes too?” you ask, more to distract yourself from the nauseous feeling knotting up in your stomach than anything because you already know the answer.

“Yes. They burned them…”

With only honey for an antiseptic, you carefully coat each wound and bandage up her feet using the clean strips of gauze you keep for the rare occasion you get hurt in training. Finally, you slip a pair of your far too large woolen hose on and tie them with strings beneath her knees to keep it all secure.

“I'll get y’ some new clothes tomorrow. Just rest tonight. Y'll sleep here in the bed. I'll be over there by the fire if y’ need anything.”

From the confused and scared look on her face you know what she's wondering.

“I'm not gonna touch y’,” you tell her plainly and rise to set the jug and basin on the table.

Voice riddled with even more fear despite trying to reassure her, she mumbles, “Then… why would you buy me?”

How else was I gonna get y’ away from there without cuttin’ down somebody and causin’ a scene?

Falling to your knees once more, you pull her into your arms and squeeze her tight.

“If you don't want my body why did you bring me here? How am I going to repay you… I don't have anything else…”

No… Don't cry again… I can't take no more tears today…

“Shhh. Shhh. Y’r body isn't something y’ pay with. Don't offer that to nobody, y’ hear? Y’ don't owe me for nothing. Just be a good girl and go to sleep for now, okay?”

“I don't understand… Why…?” comes a shuddered whisper against your shoulder.

In truth you don't know either, and maybe in the morning you'll regret not simply walking out alone. But that's a thought for tomorrow.

Part 2

[anneimaginesundertale]

Skeleton Children

There are currently six babybones hanging around in The Best of All Timelines, with a seventh one on the way. All the kiddos have fonts but we didn't use their entire font name for their names. (Covered By Your Grace Gaster is just a little bit of a mouthful...)

The kids are:

Randy Bistroke Gaster (@pureangleda and Blue) -- 5 years old

Cherry Swash Gaster (@pureangleda and Blue) -- 2 years old

Someday Joy Gaster (mine with Sweets) -- 4 years old

Grace Optima Gaster (mine with Sweets) -- 2 years old (twin)

Gideon Roman Gaster (mine with Sweets) -- 2 years old (twin)

Poppy Osseus (Boss and Trashy) -- 2 years old

More details under the cut about all these cuties!

Feel free to send asks for the kiddos! I'd love to write more about them! They're so cute!!!!

Blue and Ray (@pureangleda) have two kids: Randy Bistroke and Cherry Swash.

Randy Bistroke Gaster is 5 years old. He just had his Pokemon birthday party back in December. He's in kindergarten (or maybe junior kindergarten based on his age). Randy has a round skull similar to his dad's and big blue eyelights. He's got his mom's curly brown hair, which he doesn't like having cut. (It's getting a little floppy lately.)

He loves Pokemon and generally anything that lets him run around and pretend he's great at battles like Dad and some of his uncles. He also loves to give hugs. His standard greeting is a big hug and "I'm Randy! I love you!" even to people he hasn't met. (His parents are working with him on that.) Right now Randy wants to be a Pokemon trainer when he grows up. Or a detective like Uncle G. He's not sure yet. He adores his baby sister Cherry. She's the best baby sister in the world!

Cherry Swash Gaster is 2 years old and the oldest of the Two Crew. She loves to move and recently started a baby ballet/gymnastics class to help her get all her energy out. She's also moving out of a "No Clothes!" phase. (That was partially solved by getting her ballerina outfits, but now the girl is a glitter bomb...) She tries very hard to keep up with her big brother and her older cousin Someday, but she's also besties with her twin and her cousin Poppy. She is absolutely fearless, something which causes Ray near heart attacks almost daily.

Sweets and I (Anne) have three kids: Someday, and our twins Grace and Gideon.

Someday Joy Gaster — My little sunshine girl. Sometimes we call her Sundae instead of Someday because Randy couldn't say her name right when she came along. She's full of joy and has a big, beautiful smile like her daddy's (but, Sweets notes, without the need for orthodontia). She's a little blondie right now but that might change as she gets older. (My hair did.) She likes to have her hair in pigtails or braids. She wears glasses (currently pink ones). Her favorite phrase is "Me too!" She's jealous that Randy gets to be in big kid school when she's still in pre-k but she loves her teachers.

(Covered By Your) Grace Optima Gaster — Twins with Gideon. They're the youngest of the Two Crew. Gracie is my wild, headstrong girl. She looks a lot like her Uncle Sansy. She's got just enough brown hair for a couple of little floofer pigtails, and very expressive golden eyelights. Her favorite phrase is "Not fair!" Out of the twins, Grace is the chatty one. She never has an unexpressed thought and her vocab is impressive for a two year old! (Don't ask which uncle taught her some of those words. No one has confessed.) She adores her twin but will often run ahead of him and then remember and run back.

Gideon Roman Gaster — My sweet serious boy. He was born a few minutes after Grace and is much quieter than her. (There are trees quieter than Gracie, but that's beside the point.) Gideon looks a lot like his daddy with about the same amount of brown hair as his twin. He's got deep blue eyes. Gideon is very shy and tends to look pretty solemn. He's definitely a little bit of a mama's boy right now, which is absolutely fine by me. While his sisters are running around, Gideon likes to go at his own pace and observe everything. He also loves to be read to. If there is a grownup with an unoccupied lap, Gideon will wander over with a book and ask, "Read?" No one can resist those big eyes!

Boss and Trashy have one daughter, Poppy, and one baby on the way.

Poppy Osseus is our final member of the Two Crew, but she was actually the second one born. She is already proving to be a spunky, energetic little thing and she absolutely loves the outdoors. She would spend every moment of her life outside if she could. Poppy alternates between insisting on pretty princess dresses (especially if she can wear her fairy wings with them) and overalls with "cool shirt". (The current "cool shirt" has a black cat under a mushroom and has been deemed the "Doofmanger" shirt.) She has a cute little curly brown pixie cut at the moment and insists on accessorizing with bows and barrettes and hats. (Sometimes all at once.) Whatever she's wearing, it better have pockets, because Poppy will put every rock, flower, bug, cool bit of moss, or mudball she can find into her pockets. She likes to share her collection. More than one uncle has been shocked to hear "Lookit!" and be handed a roly poly bug/caterpillar/dandelion. When she's not outside, Poppy hosts very fancy tea parties with Daddy. Boss keeps a picture of the two of them looking very fancy on his desk at work.

[thesovietonion77]

favorite quotes from my older sister this month

"he's acting too top-y, START ACTING LIKE THE BOTTOM COCK SLUT YOU ARE-"

"Making out under a security desk? We've had ON some, but under? Wow, decency, rare"

"Thats from me, teaching a non-existent audience how to moan in british"

"They're being very consensual towards each other! That's great, we love consent here!"

"Okay this is getting....redundative. Redundant."

"STOP WITH THE BACK AND FORTH-"

"ooh, fervor, i love fervor, it's my favorite word! No, no, it isn't. I think my favorite word is Pafawafalacancake."

"Poison, ya feedin me poison! I'm starting to get tired of fucking death threats from fans of Davis and reed and meg and kat-"

"Oh well, let's go shove a pancake up his bum or smth- 😊"

"Heavy distortion! Oooeoeooeoeoeeoeoeoeooeoeoaaahhh-"

"Pov: asmr diet dr pepper drinking sounds!"

"Pov: asmr heavy distortion diet dr pepper drinking sounds!"

"QUACK-"

"Don't you dare knock over that green ibanez!"

"HELP ME, THE KEYBOARD FELL ON ME!...AND THE CURTAIN ROD!...ALONG WITH IT, THE CURTAINS!"

"awh, but putting up greenhouses is so hard 😣"

"I cannot do the sexy dorito mans voice for the life of me, and you can? I'm like...4-...no, 3 years older than you!?"

"I'll torment you day and night, want me to stop? Give me your staaaa- *voice crack* FUUUUCKKK-"

"Or should i say....MY star, ahuhuhu~ 💅💅✨✨"

"Wow, look how sexy and on-model this drawing of vaggie is, look how....canon her jawline is"

"How do i write lyrics for 'no girl's toy' but the 'boy' in question is actually a girl and the 'girl' in question is actually a boy"

"GOD DAMN, SUN X MOON ON MY TUMBLR FEED-"

"ya....ya...she be fuckin on my toy til i cory....ya, she be breeding on mah mount til i mae.....ya, she be jiggin' on mah saw til i baby-"

"*terrible muscle man impression* YOU- YOU KNOW WHO ELSE LIKES LUMINI??! MY MOM, STARLAAAA-"

"man, YuB needs to rap to the songs in hazbin hotel and helluva boss"

"I CAN'T FIND THE DEPRESSED CLOWN EDM MUSIC- NOOOOOOOO"

"*over one of her drawings of Senoris*Daddy? Sorry, daddy? Sorry, da-"

"Ooh, butterfly twinks getting in a fight- his wings should be bigger, damn it."

"Vannamelon be hornin over jax tadc for real-"

"Hell's been better since he SHIT-"

"Oh, fuck mr. Puzzles, oh i HATE HIM AAAHHHH GRRRRRR WHY IS HE SO HOT-"

"Oh, i don't do international shipping, i'm afraid. Afraid of what? Don't be scared, dear...mhmhmhmm...~"

"CaseOh? Spin around"

"silly billy is now my favorite fnf song. OH WAIT, ITS NOT, BECAUSE TRINITY IS MY FAVORITE FNF SON- OH WAIT, OMNIPRESENT IS MY FAVORITE FNF-"

"Turn off lights when you're done with them, you bitch"

most of these were things she said while on her phone, or they were directed at me. Or both. 🤷‍♀️

[nextgensquad]

i know most people ask about the canons, so i'm here to shake things up a bit: i'd love to hear more about everyone's next gen ocs! or i know that's kind of a broad question so maybe just your favorites or the ones you think about the most!

anon, we never got a notification for this message! thank you so much for sending it, sorry tumblr refused to let us know <3 this is such a great question

pearl's fave ocs:

abigail longbottom, probably one of the first ocs i ever settled on. she's neville and hannah's daughter, lucy's best friend, a gryffindor who never thinks of herself as brave. she's surrounded by very high-drama high-intensity gryffindors and is very quiet in comparison, but has a heart of steel. she gets pregnant by james when they're too young for a baby, keeps it, and eventually falls in love with fred while james figures out his various fuck-ups with some help

ysella fawley, one of albus and scorpius' best friends in their little slytherin circle. from a kinda new money pureblood family that found themselves on the up and up after the war when all the old money fams fell hard, she was raised rich and spoiled, but really cares about nothing besides quidditch and her best friends. and hooking up with girls.

sebastian rosier, not in any of the next-gen kids' squads but loosely associated with lucy through her drag racing, on a rival team full of spoiled rich brats (very much old money - rosier, shafiq, etc), his daddy funds the illegal race track and is also a mafia boss, got lots of issues. may or may not ever overcome them.

katherine parkinson, molly's work rival in adulthood, daughter of pansy's older brother, a nepo baby and journalist who is very cutthroat and calculated about getting ahead. becomes a political correspondent to the ministry, where she meets louis weasley, who falls in love with her on the spot. this causes a lot of issues because she's already betrothed to a pureblood guy whom she hates.

edelweiss urquhart, known as edie, pansy's daughter with orville urquhart. her parents are divorced, hate each other, and use her as a toy to compete with each other. gets bullied by the other slytherin girls in her year and ends up adopted by lily and dominique's gaggle of gryffindor girls instead.

jake longbottom, son of neville and hannah, abby's older brother, the quintessential golden gryffindor boy that all the other kids inevitably have to be compared to because he's just so put-together. becomes an auror like his godfather harry; privately a lot more of a mess than he'll ever let on. very hard to read.

luke, elijah, and marnie goldstein, children of anthony goldstein and hannah's little sister bethany. close family friends with the potters because bethany worked on the aurors with harry. luke and james are best friends in a very bro-y way; marnie is part of lily's troublemaker group; elijah and albus hooked up a few times in sixth year and now hate each other. it's great.

and many more ofc! hopefully everyone else comes to edit this <3

becca here, coming to add mine, but help, i have so many ocs, it's almost impossible for me to choose faves. this is really just a small selection i've picked at random:

iseult (issie) malfoy, younger sister (by five years) of scorpius, probably my number one kiddo, she ranks along with the canons for me. nobody who knows her, except her family who somehow managed to miss it, is surprised when she's sorted into gryffindor. she's physically fearless, obstinate, and much tougher than she looks. adores her immediate family (and has some struggles reconciling what she knows about them with how other people see them), but rebels stubbornly against their attempts to make her into a proper pureblood girl, because she's a leggings-wearing, grubby-fingered, harpies-supporting cat girl. eventually grows into herself, gains confidence, and ends up captaining the gryffindor quidditch team. probably plays professionally after hogwarts for a while, but i haven't got that far with her.

sophie longbottom, daughter of neville and hannah, the same year as iseult and also sorted into gryffindor. issie and sophie become best friends almost immediately, a fact their respective fathers just have to deal with (with varying levels of equanimity), because you don't argue with 11-year-old girls' friendships. sophie is a lively, friendly chatterbox, very socially confident, and absolutely unhesitant in choosing her friends. she's a little naive, and tends to assume that the world is a good and just place, and gets shocked by the bad sides of life. she tends (especially as a child) to assume that authority figures can be trusted and the system works, and gets a bit worried about things like breaking rules.

titus hart, one of my complete ocs, in that both his parents are also ocs, but please don't hold that against him. titus is lucy weasley's year (two years below lily and hugo), and his grandmother runs the white wyvern pub in knockturn alley, a seedy underworld hub. he's a slytherin, but never quite fits in with his pureblood housemates, since he's a halfblood from a family without much money. he's foul-mouthed, grumpy, and protects himself by pretending to be a dick, which works because he's also very large and looks intimidating. underneath it all, titus is an absolute sweetheart, you just have to earn his trust to see it. he is reluctantly dragged into lucy's hogwarts theatre club.

hazel kitson, a muggle, but stick with me. when hazel's six, she makes friends with the weird little boy with the strange name in the playground and, being six, is mostly unfazed by the revelation that he's a wizard. skip forward ten years, and hazel kitson and scorpius malfoy are the most unlikely pair of best friends ever. hazel is independent, resourceful, and eternally curious about everything. if she encounters a puzzle or mystery, she can't rest until she solves it, which becomes an issue when one of the puzzles she can't solve is james potter. (shameless plug for the fic i'm currently writing about this on ao3.)

dannicus (danny) urquhart, one of scorpius's closest friends at hogwarts. younger son of a traditional pureblood family, danny suffers from being the disappointing second to his golden boy brother auster, who, as well as being his parents' favourite, is also an enormous dick. danny can't stand most of his large family and disagrees with their (traditionalist) politics, but deals with that by pretending not to take anything seriously. one of his love languages is making fun of people, he loves to stir shit, and will never let go of anything. on the flip side, he's also surprisingly emotionally intelligent and open with his affections, and he's absolutely ride-or-die for his friends.

i'm going to leave it at 6, which is very restrained of me, there are so many more.

[apatheticcrossovers]

Can you write moxie x Millie x amy rose fic?

In this universe,Amy is hellborn hedgehog and is 25 years old

What would happen if hopeless romance like Amy meet newlyweds moxie and Millie?

Sure! I had fun writing this one, sorry if this seems like it ended a bit angsty, You can always come back an request a part 2! - Mod Apathetic

Hopeless Romantic

Fandoms: Helluva Boss, Sonic the Hedgehog Ship: Amy Rose (Sonic the Hedgehog)/Millie (Helluva Boss)/Moxxie (Helluva Boss) Characters: Amy Rose (Sonic the Hedgehog), Millie (Helluva Boss), Moxxie (Helluva Boss), Blitzo (Helluva Boss) Tw: None Summary: She just didn't understand! Amy Rose had been trying her best to find the love of her life for years! She just couldn't understand how the damn Imps were better at finding love than her!

She just couldn't understand how those two could be so happy! She had seen those Imps around the city, as well as in a commercial for their Company, and whenever she saw them, they always looked so happy together! Amy couldn't get it, how could those two somehow be so happy together? So, she created a plan, she'd agree to work at I.M.P. in order to get closer to the two, and then when she was alone with either of them, she'd question them about their relationship. It sounded perfect in her head, and totally not more work than what it's worth!

Getting into I.M.P. was the easiest part, Blitzo felt getting a non-Imp demon on their team might make people more willing to use their services. Plus, he was impressed with how well Amy knew how to use a hammer! The hard part was getting either Moxxie or Millie alone. Millie would be the easy part, just ask her to go out on a girl's day together, but Moxxie... She could probably figure that out later, right now, she just had to focus on the stuff she did know how to execute.

"You know Amy, it's really nice that ya' offered t' take me on this shoppin' trip!" Millie exclaimed, walking alongside the dark pink hedgehog with a smile. Amy simply smiled back, waving her hands dismissively.

"Oh, it's really no problem! Just don't buy too much though! I'm not exactly that wealthy..." Amy let out a nervous chuckle, thinking for a moment as she tried to phrase her next questions casually. "So... I've noticed you and that Moxxie fella get along pretty well! Are you two, dating or something?" She glanced down at Millie, who didn't seem at all bothered by this question.

"Oh, absolutely! We're married actually! I just couldn't be happier!" Amy nearly froze in her tracks, trying to hold back a bit of shock. Those two were only maybe a few years older than her, and they were already married?! Amy hadn't even gotten her first boyfriend yet! She couldn't help but feel jealous. "Amy dear? Are you ok?" Amy hadn't even realized the anger was written all over her face. She quickly shook her head and forced a smile back onto her face.

"Y-yeah, sorry, I just..." Amy was silent, trying to figure out what to say. "I guess I was just surprised, I'm 25 and haven't even gotten my first boyfriend, yet here you two are, only a few years older than me, and already living a happy life together!" Amy let out another laugh, Millie giggling slightly as well. She found the hedgehog's jealousy almost adorable.

"Awe, there's no need to be jealous! You're such a fine young lady, I'm sure you'll find someone soon!" Millie seemed so positive about the topic, trying to reassure Amy that she wouldn't be lonely for long. "Besides, who wouldn't want to date you? you're just the cutest darn thing!"

"I know right? I mean, I just don't get what I'm doing wrong! Like, what do you like about Moxxie so much that you wanted to marry him?" Amy was just genuinely curious about what was so great about Moxxie, but Millie must've thought Amy wanted to know so she could change herself to be 'more likable', as that's how Millie responded to it.

"Oh Amy, that's not important, I love him for being himself, and that means you have to find someone who loves you for being yourself." Amy wasn't sure what to say. This isn't how she expected this conversation to go. Millie's words did make her feel nice though, Millie was surprisingly nice for her profession.

"Thanks, Millie, you're pretty nicer, much nicer than I expected, no offense..." Amy let out a nervous chuckle, Millie waving her hand dismissively.

"Oh it's alright Sugar, I know how to be nice when I want t' be!" Sugar. That nickname made Amy's heart flutter, but she tried to push down the feeling of growing affection. She could deal with that later.

Later that same day, Amy ran into Moxxie alone, and after her conversation with Millie, she hadn't intended to actually confront him about anything, but she thought she might as well while she had the chance. "hey Moxxie, you got a minute?" Amy tried to sound nice, and tried to play this off casually, just like she did with Millie.

Moxxie raised an eyebrow, he had always been a bit cautious of Amy from the start. I mean, it's not every day you see someone like Amy willingly working with a bunch of Imps. "Uh, sure... What is it?" Amy fidgeted with her fingers slightly. "W-well... I hope this doesn't seem too personal, but, how are things going with you and Millie?" That didn't sound too odd to ask a coworker, but Moxxie still thought something was going on, Amy seemed just a bit too nervous.

"Things, are going, great, why do you ask?"

"Well, I've just been having, relationship problems lately, and... you two just seem to have it all figured out... I wanna know how you two can just, make it work..." Moxxie couldn't help but feel a twinge of sympathy. Finding love must've been so important to Amy.

"Oh, it really depends on who you're with. Some relationships take more work than others. Millie and I are practically perfect for each other, yeah, but that might not be the same for you." Moxxie tried not to sound too much like a downer, not wanting to upset the poor hedgehog. It didn't work too much, as Amy just sighed. Before she could even say anythign else though, Moxxie continued. "Listen Amy, you're perfect in your own way, and you need to find someone who thinks your perfect for them, and if you're lucky, they'll be just as perfect for you."

"You really think so? It's just that, I've tried too hard, and yet, all guys think I'm too annoying, or clingy..." Amy shrugged her shoulders, trying to laugh it off as she hugged herself.

"Well then clearly those guys weren't perfect for you. Besides, I don't think you're annoying at all, yeah you're a bit, weird, but I wouldn't say that's a bad thing!" Moxxie patted Amy on the shoulder, Amy letting out another sigh as she smiled and nodded.

"Thanks, Moxxie, I guess your right...." Amy's heart was racing again, the soft and sympathetic stare Moxxie was giving her felt so, loving. Not even her own parents had ever shown her such sympathy. "Well, I'll, see you around!" Amy felt in a much better mood than before, though she wasn't sure why.

Later that night, Amy tossed and turned in bed, Moxxie and Millie's kind words ringing out through her head like echos, the caring words, the way they made her feel like she could be loved, Amy hated to admit it, but... she was in love again, and this time it left her feeling even more hopeless cause the two were already married to each other.

[d1squ13tud3]

I obtained this interesting a statement today from 1, upper school history teacher, lame duck in her position:

"I don't think educated, adult people should be told what to do."

The specific context for this is a mostly uninteresting cold war between most of the school and persons 2 and 3, who man an office along the front hallway and are in charge of coordinating extracurriculars. What interested me most about this statement was the qualifications: it must be okay sometimes for people to be told what to do, unless they are educated adults.

This is kind of a required attitude from a teacher. There are many supportive, veteran teachers around me who are very kind and assure me that it gets easier, that the first few years of teaching are rough, that there's a reason most people wash out of the profession no more than 3 years in. What I wonder about is what percentage of the washed were overwhelmed by the arena, and what percentage of the washed were overwhelmed by their disquietude.

Obviously society works on firm boundaries — you drive when you're 16; you vote when you're 18, you drink when you're 21. We paint lines on our roads because when you sort of categoricalize driving like that, it's possible to do highway hypnosis. I mean, you could definitely do highway hypnosis on an unpainted highway if you were by yourself, but: "stay in your lane." It's a lot safer to play with fire on a rocky atoll than the sun-beat prairie. If you ran out of gas in the Mojave coz you missed the "no gas for 300 miles" sign, the only person you can shoot playing with your gun is yourself, and yourself is the least intuitive person to shoot.

But you can't tell me where the mind ends and where the body begins, and you can't tell me where childhood ends and adulthood begins. Rites of passage notwithstanding, starting kindergarten if you've turned 5 before September 1st notwithstanding, menarche and first intercourse and graduating high school and moving out and financial independence from your parents notwithstanding, you can't tell me where childhood ends and where adulthood begins.

"I don't think educated, adult people should be told what to do."

The educated, adult person has no choice but to do what they are told so long as they have a boss. Maybe if Jefferson had gotten his way and we were all yeoman farmers, beholden to no one but the earth and the weather, no one but God — but this is the same thing. A long time ago, someone then two and a half times my age said, "It's not a bad thing to have a little bit of debt." That's J. P. Morgan speaking from beyond the grave, and Jamie Dimon speaking from before the grave.

Now, there's a reason Marx marveled at capitalism, a reason Lenin did the N.E.P. But such are your intentions, and that same night you die. Great things are accomplished at the expense of human life. "Human life is limited, but I would like to live forever." In headaches and in worry, vaguely life leaks away. Like, things are accomplished at the expense of human spirit. How can they be called great, when the suffering outweighs the enjoyment?

"I suffer a lot, and every day the glass mirror get tougher to watch . . ."

The goal, as I understand it, of "Greek philosophy" — what does it mean to live a good life? Good spirit. Good spirit. At work, my colleague — older, wiser, more competent — says: "Don't belong here." Because I spoke about the little joys I had had today, and finished: ". . . yet I still feel that I do not belong." And she said: "Don't belong here."

I see the parents riled up about their coach not playing their kid right in peewee tackle . . . I know the people from whom I feel pressure — bosses, whatnot — are mostly only reflecting pressure from those who pressure them, moonlight from some crueler sun. That ultimately the pressure only comes from the cruel logic of the structure of our lives. There is no unmoved mover who generates the cruelty suffusing our civilization, but everyone moves each other.

"But the idling of men is called business; the idling of boys, though exactly like, is punished by those same men: and no one pities either boys or men. Perhaps an unbiased observer would hold that I was rightly punished as a boy for playing with a ball: because this hindered my progress in studies — studies which would give me the opportunity as a man to play at things more degraded."

But the one thing I revelled in was play!

The sexes rose to work and weep . . .

If there is one thing I resent the students for, it's the possibility (the jury's still out) that they Want (this) structure. This is what some of the other teachers want to say, they Want that structure, that discipline. It disquiets me to reprimand students or to enforce discipline — silence and stillness — although I will say it disquiets me also to do a lot of things. Trust my gut? I'm OCD and all. This is what a friend said — you probably only think about it, worry about it, (It It It), because you've got OCD. My It is like the sheer unrest of life, it's got a whole phenomenology to it, ever different waters flowing. But I do trust my gut. Today is the day I follow my intuition . . .

If there's one thing I resent the students for, it's wanting Structure; and this is the same way I resent my body for being an Animal. But taking bad care of yourself feels bad, and taking good care of yourself feels good, and you learn this, because your body tells you.

(Bloomfield's example: without awareness of human language, the alien must assume that Jack has an organ that senses Jill's hunger.)

Но, боже мой, какая скука!!!!!!

(Boredom is the enemy, and nothing more boring than pain.)

I believe that boredom is the enemy because boredom is the opposite of learning, and development of greater Spirit is what is going to . . . anyway boredom prevents learning, if you're bored you can't learn. If you're bored you can't do anything but tune out. You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make it drink.

It's okay in 1's mind to tell children what to do; she also has personal beef with 2 and 3 for political reasons ("they sit in their office and talk shit about everyone else all day." "Like we do in here?" "Yes, but like, they're complaining about how many liberals there are around here . . .") Yet in her liberal wisdom, she draws a fundamental chasm between children and adults, scoffing at the (specifically one or two who I can tell they are subtweeting) upper school teachers who apparently have gotten coffee with students on the weekends. "You are not my friend, you're a child," conjectures 1. "All my friends are in their 30s, with a handful in their 40s, a handful in their 20s", she cites proudly. She says something about her fundamental separation from anyone under 25, and I wonder if she knows how old I am.

The contention would be that the structure of our childhoods produces us as defective adults.

I walk around the school and make conversation, and it doesn't make much of a different if I'm very knowledgeable or interested, just that I nod, ask questions, try hard. It's very easy to get along with adults in a professional capacity. You always defer, verbally, agreeably, good-naturedly, to their face; you smile, greet, keep a good air about you. You play along with whatever language game they're playing. You use thheir common ground, stumbling around in it blindly if you need to, like figuring out where the light switch is in a new dark room at night, needing to pee. Occasionally this gets you into trouble, but less and less as you get better at these scheme of yours. Soon I'll fly too close to the sun, or maybe I won't.

Counsel says "the students need access to your mind", this the reason I should "maintain control of my classroom" (also otherwise I'll get fired.) Sometimes I do math problems (I'm not a math teacher) on the board if the kids ask it, coz they don't understand their problem for class, and they're always grateful. You get flattered occasionally, they say "we wish you were the math teacher instead, Ms So and So didn't make any sense when she taught it." (And I know her classroom's quiet . . . I dont know how she teaches, though.)

Part of the reason to let the kids do mostly whatever is so I can do mostly whatever. It feels like helping them do math is breaking some sort of spell, some sort of kayfabe about my class period being for my class. But nothing makes me happier than helping them with their math, than helping them where I can. I know that some of them must say "it's okay if I don't finish my homework at home, I'll just do it in 0621215's class." I know I can't make exceptions, go out of my way for every student, because there's too many of them — and I'll get caught.

Counsel says, "never seen such weird, maladapted graduates. What's wrong with them?" What's wrong is that those who succeed full-throttle in our system suck. The structure of school — and the ensuing feedback loop — ensure that it's mostly weird losers or psychos who end up on top. (The contention would be that the structure of our childhoods produces us as defective adults, or at least misplaced adults — and the ensuing feedback loop.)

Dont Belong Here.

Me I don't think people should be told what to do. I'm very much a turn the other cheek kind of soul. THe existence of evil is annoying; people will strike you for all sorts of reasons. One result — evil — with apparently many causes. I'm fine with advising, guiding. Maybe setting hard rules for children is rightfully considered a kind of advisingguiding, telling children what to do. But children display subjectivity and agency. Master-slave dialectic. God, I'm confused.

The real worry would be that at least some children would do irreparable injustice to each other and the rest of the world if adults allow them to make their own mistakes.

But the real reason for the disquietude is because to get 30 children to sit still and silent is you have to be either cold, scary and harsh or you threaten them with write-ups, deans, parents, especially parents who might take away the phone, or yell, or even withhold love or hit. What you're not doing is allowing the kid to make their own mistakes in a real, un-alienated way. A kid eats too much candy and they get a stomachache. They might learn or they might not; plenty of adults eat too much candy and get a stomachache too. They get drunk, they gamble. Well, some parents raise ipad children, too. Addiction is a disease.

Is it necessary always to drag kids towards education by the ear? American kid gets it in their head they hate broccoli, even though Japanese kids love it. Broccoli's good for you. Need a vibe shift.

The question is —

If you can lead a horse to water, but you can't make it drink — that's fine. The horse can find water on its own, and maybe you led it to some nasty ass water.

Now hold on: the world has changed. The Colorado River's diverted to water lawns. The Mississippi is polluted from the factories in Pittsburgh and Cincinnati and St Louis.

What I'm trying to get at is: is it like, we've done the Original Sin of literally 100% civilization and phenomenology, of developing Spirit and thus altering the structure of our world in the context that our biological evolution has been long outstripped by our social and spiritual evolution. We're unable to operate as beasts anymore. Know how the 2 or 3 year old who gets lost in the woods is more likely to survive than the 5 or 6 year old, because the 2 or 3 year old eats dirt and the 5 or 6 year old thinks itself to death?

The question I have arrived at is: because of our moment in history, because we are humans living in AD 2023, after the invention of agriculture, after the invention of writing, after Christ, after gunpowder, after the printing press, after industry, after electricity, after the Internet — must we drag children towards education by the ear, if they are to have any hope of learning anything at all? Is a person in their conditions too alienated from themselves (until they realize their alienation, and sublimate their alienation by incorporating it into themselves) to live a good life, to have good Spirit, to do eudaimonia?

There are bees here, let's leave immediately.

If you want to be loved, be lovable.

And yet the contention is that the structure of our childhoods produces us as defective adults.

Dont say I never warned you if your train gets lost.....

KRAMER: Aren’t you a part of society?

But I want you to want me too . . .

All lay down their bandanas and complain . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . .. . .

Let all who have ears to hear hear.

[archive-of-note]

I posted 246 times in 2022

That's 203 more posts than 2021!

18 posts created (7%)

228 posts reblogged (93%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@pettyprocrastination

@monsterlovinghours

@max--phillips

@absurdthirst

@beetlebitchywitch

I tagged 240 of my posts in 2022

Only 2% of my posts had no tags

#beetlejuice - 58 posts

#frankie 'catfish' morales - 24 posts

#dieter bravo - 23 posts

#din djarin - 23 posts

#not fic - 20 posts

#jack whiskey daniels - 19 posts

#pero tovar - 18 posts

#ezra (prospect) - 15 posts

#javier peña - 13 posts

#oberyn martell - 12 posts

Longest Tag: 126 characters

#(he smtms hates himself because of his own proclivities. he wants to be *that* for someone. but he doesn’t think it can happen

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Fresh Sourdough and Old Stories.

(I’m not good at this fic naming thing don’t at me)

Pero Tovar x GN! Reader

Rating: Teen, only because reader gets a lil thirsty.

Warning: Food

Notes: @absurdthirst wrote this earlier today, I read it, this happened, then I took a nap.

Fun fact: I only know two things about my great grandad. One, he was from China, and two, when he met my great grandmother he said to her something along the lines of “you’re very fat.” Which from him was a complement. It got lost in cultural translation and her girlfriends threatens to kick his head in.

Writer Wednesday Week 25, @writer-wednesday

Your great grandmother told you the story.

You were young, probably four or five, when she turned off PBS and sat you down with all the solemn seriousness of some great tragedy.

Then she told you a story.

Pero Tovar, a mercenary— you had to ask what that meant— from Spain— you had to ask where that was— helped defeat nameless monsters at the Great Wall.

“The one in China?”

“Yes, sweetheart, that one.”

Something happened to him there, something beyond reason, a miracle or a curse— you asked how a miracle could be a curse— it has kept him alive these near thousand years— you still couldn’t count that high— and no one knows except for your family.

“Why only us?”

She booped your nose, “Because we were the only ones who noticed.”

When you got older, you learned that great grandad was the one who kept the story, but he told grandma before he left for war.

Everyone says he died on the battlefield, even though there were pictures of him back home after it was over.

You didn’t understand what that meant until later, and your heart still sometimes hurts for the man you never met.

For some reason the story stayed with you, even after only hearing it once. It lead to a somewhat obsessive phase with time traveling romances and history, your mother even joking that she didn’t just have you a bit late, but apparently centuries late.

You tried to slow down your rereads of Outlander after that.

Life happened, it stalled, you grew into a person via fits and starts, slowly chipping away at an AA until you suddenly had it but still had no clue what to do with it.

The bakery was supposed to be a pit stop, which insured that it would be anything but.

Grouchy four AM wake ups turned into tolerable ones, turned into excited ones. Your boss said you ran through the kitchen like a hurricane, but one that at least had the decency to pick up after itself.

You’d laugh and only slightly choke on the flour in the air.

Breads became muffins, then tarts, then pies, and occasionally even cakes. All of them simply presented but delicious nonetheless.

And time went on.

“I’m giving you first dibs.”

“First dibs on what?”

See the full post

25 notes - Posted August 17, 2022

#4

We are once again rubbing our gay hands all over Javier Peña, well not all over him, there’s some hand holding though.

Some vulnerability, some realizations, some newly moved boundaries. The upfront crassness of our insert character, along with some admiration for the Adonis belt (amazing name btw) of one Mr. Javier Peña.

READER IS A MAN!!! There is no sex here, and reader gets no real descriptors of any sort but I am stating this plainly up top, because it is a factor in how the whole dynamic works.

Not Beta read and posted at 4:24AM

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You look like shit.”

Javier barely looks up from his files, “Thanks.”

“C’mon, you can’t catch any sicarros if you keel over.” Easily, you walk around his space, collecting papers and closing files, making neat stacks that don’t really have any system of organization.

The fact he doesn’t fight you is evidence enough that he needs to head home.

“Peña, when was the last time you slept?”

This close to him you can see the bags under his glazed eyes.

“When was the last time we fucked?” He has no concern for volume, just blurting out the question without any discretion, and you’re thankful that Steve has someone to drag him home at night.

“You’ve been running on coffee and cigarettes for three days?”

He shrugs, pointing to the opened bottle of whiskey on his desk.

“Adding whiskey to the list doesn’t make it any better.” Walking around you grab his chair and pull it back from his desk.

“Get up, we’re leaving.”

His continued lack of fighting just ratchets up your concern.

———

The taxi ride to the complex is quiet, and you tip the driver extra because he kept his opinions to himself.

“Gracias, buenas noches.”

The driver waves dismissively, more interested in the probably too large stack of bills you threw his way.

“You paid too much.”

Huffing, you begin walking to the complex proper, tugging Javier along.

“Probably, but you work too much.”

He just hums.

The trudge to his apartment is uneventful, but you keep your head low regardless.

“Bad for your back.”

“Hmm?”

You pat yourself down before remembering you handed him his keys, and instead of asking you just shove your hands in his pockets.

“Keeping your head down like that,” he lets out a small grunt as you manhandle him to reach his other pocket, “not good for your back.”

See the full post

29 notes - Posted September 7, 2022

#3

Ezra / Reaper!Reader

Not really romance, just a blurb that was rattling in my head the past two days.

The arm removal scene, no real details given.

———

“You aren’t what I was expecting.”

You raise an eyebrow, “What were you expecting?”

He’s pale and sweaty, the infection of his arm is obviously killing him.

“At best? Nothing.”

You nod along, death being a complete absence of all things is a common interpretation.

“And at worst?”

He huffs a laugh, and it sounds like it hurts, “The visage of all those I’ve wronged, a final conscious reminder of my mistakes before I suffer in the sulfurous plane of the damned.”

“You speak a lot for someone fighting a moving, necrotising infection.”

He laughs again, “My mind is loud and crowded, I need to make space for my thoughts somehow.”

You chuckle a bit, taking stock of the tent that doesn’t appear to be his, or at least it didn’t start that way.

“Do you look the same to everyone?”

“Hmm?”

“The face you wear, is it the same for every soul you reap, or do you change your looks to fit the circumstance?”

You shrug, because you really don’t know.

“I look how you need me to.”

He huffs another laugh, this one humorless, “Of course, what better salve then temptation?”

You tilt your head in confusion.

He laughs again, “My life to be taken by a creature so breathtaking.”

It’s an odd descriptor, but not unheard of. You’ve been described as bewitching, attractive, a siren for the damned, the list goes on. Rarely has the sentiment been expressed directly to your face.

“You aren’t dead yet, I’m here just in case.”

He makes a confused noise, eyes closed and head tilted back.

“There’s still some wind in your sails, and Free Will means so few things are certain, you might die here, you might not, there is still time for decisions to be made.”

“What are the decisions of a dying man?”

There is a flicker coming this way, frantic and flaring, bursts that steal your attention before almost vanishing back into the brush.

“Who said the decisions were yours alone?”

The spirit fades, taking a turn that leads it away from this tent.

See the full post

44 notes - Posted August 1, 2022

#2

🏳️‍🌈 Queer Pedro Character HCs🏳️‍🌈

Cause I’ve seen sm ppl worried about HC his characters as LGBT+, and I’ve seen sm others be mad about it. So of course I’m rubbing my grubby gay hands all over them.

Javier Peña

Bi(? He has no fucking clue tbh with you)

Def prefers women, but won’t deny (to himself at least, it is the 80s) that sm guys around the embassy have great asses.

He’s an ass man, there are a bunch of shots of him looking at women as they walk by and his eyes are obviously trailing down

Never really considered getting with a guy until he moved out to Columbia.

One male secretary/file clerk, a few too many late nights, BAM! Now he’s getting blowies in the supply closet on the semi-reg.

Eventually curiosity (and the feeling that he’s being a bit of an ass, never really getting the other guy off.) makes him broaden his horizons.

Din Djarin

Ace (is the place with the helpful hardware folks)

Doesn’t really know it’s an option

Just figures that, since he’s like the only one who can leave the Covert, then being hunted by the guild, then looking for Jedi he’s got a lot on his plate! So he thinks it’s just stress blunting his hypothetical libido.

Usually quite neutral regarding sex, it’s a thing ppl do, so what? But has been thankful for the canvas of his flightsuit and the thick armor of his Beskar

Xi’an makes him uncomfortable, they never had any sort of relationship, she just wanted to push his buttons and when there was no obvious reaction, she kept trying to up the ante.

Isn’t looking for romance but open to the possibility, his biggest worry is that he won’t be enough

@scribbledghost has a sweet Ace!Din fic and you should read it

Also very little concept of gender roles, you’d have basically non either if you grew up surrounded by ppl in armor who cared more about number of people you could lay flat like a picnic blanket

“Is that a blaster in your pocket, or are you happy to see me?”

*Din pulls out a gun*: it’s a blaster

Pero Tovar

Genuine affection means a lot more to him then he thinks.

Demisexual feels close but not right(? You know what I mean? Like it’s just a lil off, like horseshoes)

Never factored actual care into his plans for the future, he was fully prepared to live the rest of his days fat with a rotating selection of prostitutes coming and going from his lap.

He’s got low self esteem under all that crusty grime and dirt. He didn’t factor actual affection in because he didn’t think he could have it. He’d always assumed he’d just be tolerated.

Had feelings for William for a while, freaked out about that.

Jack “Whiskey” Daniels

BI! No I will not be taking questions or criticisms at this time.

Married his high school sweetheart, so he doesn’t rlly consider that he might not be straight until after he joins Statesmen.

It initially leaves him a bit off kilter, cause he’s lived his whole life thinking that’s just what everyone was like?

See the full post

77 notes - Posted March 25, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

So @pettyprocrastination , my beautiful big brained boo. Wrote Extra Whipped Cream shouting “My blorbo now!” The whole time.

Tell me, honestly, that Dieter Bravo doesn’t sound like a stage name, and not just any stage name, but one for a p*rn star. “Dieter” I could probably barely handle on its own, but it’s the “Bravo” that really aims for the kneecaps.

Anyway, @max--phillips cause they’ve posted sm anons that gave me sm ideas. And @oonajaeadira cause her GTTT/PATS series did have sm influence, I think it’s super obvious where.

EXPLICIT!!! [18+] Contains: AFAB!Reader (cl*t/p*ssy/c*nt) but no gendered endearments/nicknames. Masturbation. Oral sex (f+m receiving) MM oral action. Dieter has a tongue piercing, and a Prince Albert. Dieter Bravo does porn and has for a while. Uhh, that’s all I can think of rn, if I miss smth hit me up and I’ll fix it.

Reading Extra Whipped Cream is highly recommended, but I can’t force you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Did you overreact? Yes, in hindsight you did. But at that moment you let slip that you’d seen him naked before, and the panic made running seem rational.

You’ve done more than just see him naked though.

Heat rises back to your face in shame as your mind decides to playback as many scenes of him as it can. Making you bite your lip as your stomach twists.

It’s some nondescript pool in the backyard of a house in an obviously well-off neighborhood.

The sky is clear and the sun is blinding, the light reflecting off of the small waves in the water caused by the breeze.

A loud splash as he dives in.

He’s all long limbs and tan skin as he swims near the bottom of the pool, a pair of low-hung swim trunks, hiding what you know, is a frankly adorable ass.

The shot changes, giving you a view from the poolside as two large hands come up from beneath the water, plant themselves flat on the pool’s edge, and flex as he pulls himself up and out.

And you know they had to have slowed the footage down just a bit for how long it takes him. How you can see the flex of his arms as he heaves his own weight to the surface, the drops of water coming out of his hair, that second or two where the edge catches onto his waistband giving you an even better view of his happy trail.

Then he’s climbing out and walking out of frame as the title appears on the screen.

Pool Boy Bordello 3: Her Threeway Fantasy

Even the terrible title that usually gets you to at least giggle isn’t breaking the train of thought.

Slowly, he pulls the cock from his mouth. Hollow cheeks telling you he’s damn near trying to suck the thing dry.

His lips release it with a pop, and he gives the tip a teasing peck.

“This all for me?”

He gives the man one more lick, the small metal ball of his tongue piercing appears right at the tip, and you can see the other man’s thighs flex as he presses the steel against the slit.

You whine.

Even though you’re still contemplating curling up in a ditch somewhere to die of embarrassment, you can feel the wetness beginning to pool between your thighs.

You roll over and groan into your pillow.

It couldn’t have been the first time it’s happened? Right?

He’s got a good backlog of films, from trashy “Oh No! I ordered a pizza with extra sausage and it looks like I don’t have enough to pay,” a few, “Please Professor, I’ll do anything to pass this class!” And that one, downright awful “Plumber Porno” where he debuted the Prince Albert.

The memory of his moans alone still make you shake.

But with so many films to his name, you honestly can’t be the first to have recognized him in public.

Yeah, but you’re probably the first one to shout it across a packed café, letting him, and probably a few others, know way more about you than any stranger should.

See the full post

107 notes - Posted March 4, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[hpysprkl]

Yeah... sadly, this will never happen. I'm not even going to bring up the disproportionate ratio of male to female companions. No one at Bethesda seems willing to write female companions that are actually whole people with compelling flaws and interesting character traits. They write female companions that are blandly pleasant and more or less agreeable, and also usually conventionally attractive (by white North American beauty standards) so they will strongly appeal to a very specific lonely straight white male portion of their demographic.

Now, I will admit they're slightly better at writing female NPCs in general, but still only so good. They've given us a few decent ones over the years, like Moira Brown, Daisy, Glory, or Proctor Ingram. Hell, they even manage to write female children that are way more spirited, nonconformist, and interesting than the adult women in their lives (think FO4's Nat Wright, FO76's Daphne and even P.I.T.A., and Starfield's Cora Coe).

Now, when it comes to female ghouls, the ones we see in game tend to be more or less tough, sassy, and opinionated... and also look like ghouls. None of those traits are things that lonely straight white men (who likely have the most disposable income to spend on games and related merchandise) fantasize about fucking.

I was just articulating this to my husband and 15-yo daughter in the kitchen last night because I'd finally been able to put my finger on why I (queer/demi/female, for reference) had never had any urge to romance any of the female companions in FO4, and why I straight up ditched Sarah Morgan (Starfield) after her second affinity dialogue despite finding her physically appealing.

There's nothing truly compelling about them, and they are designed to be talking blow-up dolls, whereas ghouls are in general are just incredibly interesting characters. They're older, they've seen a lot of shit in their time and are pretty fucked up about it (even when they're not prewar, and yes, I like sad characters, sue me), and they've just generally got way more life experience and complexity and nuance than your average short-lived smoothskin NPC.

Let's take Starfield as an example. You get thrown in with Sarah Morgan, the super pretty thin blonde with the cute British accent (also, why do so many of Bethesda female companions have accents that really stand out? Literally none of the men do. NONE. Don't say Codsworth because his voice isn't unique, it's all the Mr. Handys). All she talks about is how great exploring is and how she's afraid of letting down the people who are counting on her to lead them (o noes, she has the nerve to go out and do what she enjoys instead of micromanaging the League of Extraordinary Spacefarers all day long). She misses her old mentor because she has no one in her life now that she's close to, and she's never ever made time for romance because she's too busy being a Girl Boss™️ and doing Cool Stuff™️ and having people count on her.

Sam Coe, on the other hand, is a single dad who manages to raise the galaxy's smartest, most adorable little girl, bringing her along everywhere he goes. It would be the perfect excuse to shoot down your flirting during his affinity dialogues, because maybe he feels like he has to put his kid first and he's got enough on his plate. But no, Sam doesn't give you some bitchy ice queen shtick where he pushes you away every time you try to get close. He actually goes along with it because hey, he can be a hot dad and a space explorer and a sexual human being all at the same time. He can have his fucked up family drama, and sad boy feelings about the legacy he's expected to live up to, and a complicated af relationship with his ex, and want to find weird artifacts and be a good dad and chuck grenades at everything that moves, and still also want to get his dick wet (but like damn, Space Husband LOVES his grenades. It's adorable).

Sam gets to be a whole person, Sarah doesn't. Like, I can't even begin to describe how much more alive and three-dimensional he feels compared to Space Barbie.

When it comes to Fallout, MacCready gets to be traumatized, and ridiculously cocky and confident (something we see so little of in female NPCs), and desperate to save his kid, and trying to move on from his wife's death, and wanting to get laid and do weird shit with mutfruit; Piper's life goals are to expose the Institute and eventually ride the Sole Survivor. Don't even get me started on the ethics of romancing Curie, who literally didn't even know what it was like to have a human body or sexual desire until the Sole Survivor showed up and magicked her up a hot synth body... Ick. Also, she's more or less the Survivor's granddaughter. Ick ick ick. So much ick.

So that is, in a very tired, over-caffeinated nutshell, why I'm 99.9% sure we won't get a female ghoul companion in Fallout 5. Thank you for coming to my boring feminist Ted Talk.

(I just wanted add that I don't have opinions on Cait because her accent annoyed me too much and I couldn't stand traveling with her, so maybe she's the exception to all of this, but I wouldn't know. And don't tell me Cass or Veronica were great or whatever, because Obsidian wrote them, not Bethy. Obsidian also gave us wonderful female companions like Ellie Fenhill and the precious Parvati Holcomb)

We deserve a female ghoul companion in Fallout 5. Look at all these male ghoul companions we get in the other games, but no girl ghouls...

We don't even get female ghouls as temporary companions. COWARDS, I SAY!!!

[theintrovertwithadhd]

blah

feeling very, very blah today.

I want to say it's likely because I'm about to get my period and I know that is true, but my mind plays so many tricks on me and I'm just teaching myself now how to train it and not listen to all the thoughts in my head and think that they're all real because they are not.

Work is changing a lot. It went from just me and my co-worker to now a boss and 2 other coworkers on our team and it's definitely been quite an adjustment.

It was just the 2 of us managing the department, so when we got a boss she split both of our roles into 2 roles which I am VERY grateful for and incredibly proud of myself for being a 1 man show for the marketing and communications, however it's been well over a month and I still have yet seen my revised job description. I've brought it up several times, and I ensure to angle it so I am clear on my tasks and can check all the boxes that I'm suppose to be doing now. Every time I ask she'll just say "oh ya..." so what do I even say after that??

The new guy who took over the other half of the role is alright. He's quite creative and incredibly digitally talented. He used to be a freelancer but then got sick of not being able to "turn off" as an entrepreneur, so thats why he wanted to work for someone else.

He keeps complaining about how hes on week 3 and the company still hasn't provided him his work computer, so he has to bring in his $6000 computer everyday - which I really don't see it being that terrible. I mean it's not ideal that after that long we still haven't provided him one and ya it doesn't look great... but then he'll make comments about what we are providing him is a "downgrade" compared to what he is working with and was disappointed we weren't able to provide him with all of his asks. Like dude, you have to remember where you are working here, we aren't a top high level company corporation here - its a yacht club... I don't know why this bothered me so much.

Then this week the new girl who took over the other half of my coworkers job started. Shes young, peppy and very outgoing. Idunno why but I find her kind of annoying. it feels like she tries really hard, I guess because she just started and shes young. What really annoys me is that she seems to get along REALLY well with my favourite coworker Angela (The one where it was just me and her all along).

Also everyone is starting to just love her, especially HR and it's so fucking annoying because I really don't like HR. She trying to make this place into a hotel vibe, and it's not a hotel... it is a yacht club...

They're all just obsessed with her, and I mean thats great, but idunno, I guess i'm jealous? or something about my ego here, because I feel like I used to be her and the entertainer when I worked at my previous corporate job a few years ago. I loved being that outgoing, spunky, fun one who stuck out from the group. But I that's not really me anymore and part of that makes me sad, but on the other hand part of me is grateful that my life isn't that chaotic anymore because those are the stories that I would share at the lunch table at work. So maybe it's a good thing because really all these stories she tells is about her toxic friends or things that happen to her - when I've been through that and learned my stuff.

I'm the type of person who goes to work to get shit done, make a difference, do my job and learn while I go. But this whole setting almost feels like a popularity contest and it's soooo different then what Im used to (with the corporate background). I've read before that 80% of doing well at work is the people liking you, and 20% how well you actually doing your job.

Reminder:

you are learning from this expereince

you are liked by your coworkers

you are also older than her and this is her "young chaotic" time in her life

You have a life outside of work

You've come to a point where you dont' care if people like you, you know your people

[wolken-himmel]

9k Followers Special

In which Crewel and Crowley somehow manage to destroy the time-space continuum and end up with dozens of mysterious children to care for.

Little do they know that these are (Y/n)'s children from various timelines where she married different NRC students.

Idea by @tickledpink31.

"By the Great Seven, why are there so many children here?!"

Just as Crewel had set a foot into the headmaster's office, he was immediately overwhelmed by the sudden noise of high-pitched wails and children's screams. A barrage of small children had taken over the office, some running around happily while others destroyed the furniture and knocked over vases. There were more than twenty small children, and the oldest couldn't have been much older than seven years. For a while, Crewel merely remained at the entrance and gaped at the crowd of children.

The papers he had intended to deliver to the headmaster sailed out of his hands and fell to the floor. There was pure chaos going on, and his paper spill had exacerbated the issue even more.

It took the headmaster a while to notice his visitor. He had been busy wrangling his poor top hat away from an especially mischievous fae child. After a little while, the headmaster succeeded and managed to put the mangled hat back on his head. Only then did he give his attention to his colleague by the door frame. "O-Oh, Divus! Come right in! Just make sure to shut the door—" the headmaster announced hastily. "Rook Jr is quite the stealthy one..."

Just then, a blond boy tried to zoom past Crewel, but he managed to grab him by his collar and raise him into the air just in time. The professor eyed the rambunctious boy quizzically. "Rook Jr? Is that you?"

The boy let out a sheepish giggle and even gave him a clumsy salute. Somehow, he seemed unbothered by the way he was held into the air. "Aye, monsieur! Maman loved to call me that as well— But my name is actually Philippe. I am the proud protector of my siblings!" he announced proudly and raised his nose upwards.

"Oi, stupid Philippe, as if you were responsible enough to protect Jaques and Laure!" The female voice came from below the professor, and he indeed found a young girl — she shared similar features with Philippe — tugging at his expensive coat. "I, Noelïe, am the protector of the Hunt family!" she corrected and saluted much more properly.

After Crewel had made sure that the door was locked properly behind him, he lowered Philippe to the floor again and removed his grasp from his collar. Without wasting another second, an enraged Philippe stormed over to Noelïe, and they began brawling on the floor.

"Oh my, quarreling siblings..." Crewel watched helplessly as they rolled away.

"Well," Crowley trailed off sheepishly, "at least Umbra and Solis get along better..." His finger pointed to a pair of twins by the other end of the room. Each of the siblings, a boy and a girl, possessed the strange feature of winding, black horns — and not to forget, pointed ears. They wore expensive gowns in the shades of green and black, befit of royals.

"Look, Umbra!" the boy cried out and held out a picture frame to his sister. "I found this floating portrait of the grand witch that Grandpa Lilia always talks about!"

"Oh my, let's show him! I'm sure he has more stories to tell!" Without another word, Umbra had taken the frame out of her brother's hand and was now on the move to another corner of the room. It looked like they really were searching for something with how they lifted up the sofa with their magic, only to lower it to the floor again when they only found dust and cobwebs.

"Where did all these children come from, Dire?"

"I don't know!" Crowley exclaimed and threw his hands into the air. "The heavens must have seen my boredom and blessed me with these adorable bundles of joy—"

"Wait," Crewel interrupted and inspected his boss more closely, "your coat is missing a few feathers—" Indeed, there were gaping holes here and there.

A pained sigh escaped the headmaster's lips as he pointed to a girl with lion ears. She sat on his desk chair and was happily munching away on dozens of black crow feathers. "Ah... yes... the little lioness over there likes them. Ouch, who knew that such ferocity could be hidden behind such an adorable face..." The headmaster buried his face in his gloved hands and began mourning for his poor, tattered gown.

When Crewel turned his gaze to the desk chair again, he realised that it was empty. Instead, he soon found a weight clinging to his left leg. "Sir, do you want to play with me? Play with me, please! Let's play hunting, okay?" A look downwards revealed that the little lion-girl was smiling up at him toothily. "I'll give you a head start, and then you run away as fast as you can? I'll chase you once the time's up! I promise I'm really good at it! My cousin Cheka says I'm the fastest predator he knows, even faster than my daddy!"

"Oh my, what might your name be?" Crewel asked in amusement and ruffled her hair.

"Aria! The fiercest lioness in the entire Afterglow Savannah!" she exclaimed proudly and drummed her hands against her chest, like a seasoned warrior. "No one can scare me! Not even my mommy when she yells at me to eat my vegetables."

The corners of the professor's lips quirked up into an amused smile. "Adorable."

His remark drew a little hiss from her lips, accompanied by an offended scowl. "I'm not adorable! Rawr!" she yelled out, although her roar was more similar to a cute mewl. When she realised that she hadn't intimidated him, she crossed her arms and stalked away to her friends, also beast-children. "Dandelion, you're the fastest hyena I know! Cereus, you're the strongest wolf I know! Come play hunting with me!"

The hyena-girl let out a little snicker before she darted away with nimble feet. "Shishishi, you'll never catch me, princess!" Then, she disappeared within the crowd of other children, never to be seen again.

"I'll show you two how to roar properly after this!" the wolf-boy teased before he also made his grand escape. Without an issue, he lunged over a tall bookshelf and disappeared behind it.

Now that he was free again, Crewel turned his pressing gaze to his boss again and put his hands on his hips. "Alright, Dire, so where did these children really come from? And don't you dare tell me that the stork delivered them to you."

"I don't know." Crowley merely shrugged. "They appeared after I accidentally destroyed the time-space continuum."

"You what—" Crewel spluttered out in horror.

The headmaster raised his hands into the air and shot his colleague the most calming smile he could muster. "I swear, I didn't mean to! It was all just an unfortunate accident... But you know, a wise man once said that there were no mistakes, only happy accidents! And can you believe it? Now we're surrounded by adorable, little children—" The happy grin on his lips disappeared, and he soon rushed over to a duo of children by the window. "Wait, Anemone! Don't bite your cousin like that!"

Anemone let out a low growl and bared her sharp teeth at the boy next to her. "But Nemo took my toy without asking!" she wailed when the culprit wouldn't pay her any attention. With unmatched vigour, she shook her head left and right, causing the mop of blue hair on her head to become a wild mane.

Nemo merely let out a little giggle and held the toy out to her. "I just wanted to show you a cool trick, Anemone!" he said happily and opened up the golden shell toy to reveal a glistening pearl. "Here, look!"

An awe-struck look appeared on Anemone's face, and she immediately ceased her crying.

"Wow—" Another child appeared by the cousins' side, a confident girl that wore a thick pair of black glasses. As she looked at the toy in fascination, she pushed her glasses up and let a sure smile appear on her lips. "That really is cool, but I know another trick! I can show you, if you want to!"

"Really? Ursula, show us!" Nemo cried out.

Anemone nodded along eagerly and held the toy out to the silver-haired girl. "Hurry up, Ursula!"

"I see what you mean with adorable now, Dire," the professor began and chuckled to himself. Yet, his moment of appreciation was short-lived when he turned to the headmaster to find him being mauled by the lion-girl Aria again. "But still, what are we supposed to do with all these children? Have you found a way to send them back home yet?"

"No, and I've tried really, really hard, believe me," Crowley began after the vicious predator had tired of him playing dead. He rose from the floor and dusted his tattered coat off, a giant smile on his lips. "But why send them back when I can just open a nursery with them? Just imagine, Divus! Night Raven Nursery? How does that sounds? I, for once, love it!"

"Have you gone entirely mad? We can barely handle the older students, as is, with all these overblots going on—" Crewel cried out in disbelief. "And you want to have small, helpless children nearby?"

"They can protect themselves, no?" Crowley rolled his eyes and pointed to a group of children by his coffee table. "Tell him, Rose!" The headmaster beckoned the girl over, and she at once appeared by his side.

The red-haired girl grabbed the alchemy professor by his hand and led him over to the coffee table, which was full with steaming tea-cups and cookies. She let out a little giggle before she took her seat again. "Grandpa Divvy! You're finally here— Do you want to join our tea party?" The girl patted the empty seat next to her. "My daddy always throws tea parties, as well— with all of his friends! But oh well, mine are so much more fun than his! Who wants to follow all these strange rules about how to drink your tea? You can drink your tea however you want to at my parties! If you want to add salt instead of sugar, go for it!"

The boy with orange hair, seated next to her, let out a hum of agreement. "I love salty tea! Way better than sugary sweet..." he exclaimed while pushing strands of hair out of his face. A satisfied sigh escaped his lips, and he gave a peace-sign to the baffled professor.

"Don't mind Anthony and his strange tastes... He got it from his father," a girl at the table said and let out a little giggle. Without wasting any time, she had skilfully poured tea into an empty cup and now held it out to the professor. She urged him to take it when he wouldn't, otherwise. "Here, have some tea, mister! I would usually hand you some cake to go along with it, but Grandpa Crow said that he doesn't have any."

Finally, Crewel took the cup and dared a little sip. "And who might you be?" he asked when she handed him a cookie and some sugar cubes for his tea.

"I'm Madeleine! Mommy always says I'm as sweet as madeleines, hehe. And Daddy always says my eyes are the same colour as perfectly baked madeleines." Her eyes shone proudly as she took another sip from her tea. "You should come by our bakery someday, Grandpa Divvy! It's been a long while since you've visited us. There's tons of new cakes on our menu that Daddy wants you to try!"

"Grandpa Divvy?" he repeated the nickname in confusion. "How peculiar..."

The professor was ripped out of his thoughts when the sound of crying reached his ears. He turned his gaze to the sobbing boy who had sought refuge in the soothing arms of Madeleine. A motherly look flashed across her face as she cradled the weeping boy in her arms. "Oh my, Bernard... why are you crying?" she asked and stroked his soft hair.

"Eris is being mean to me again!" he yelled out and pointed to another red-haired girl at the table.

"Really?" Madeleine asked softly. "What did she say?"

"She told me that I would never become a magical enforcement officer like my father!"

Eris rolled her eyes at the accusation and threw her velvety hair over her shoulder. "I didn't say it like that, you idiot," she grumbled under her breath. "I only said that it's very hard to become one! So you need to work a lot and give it your all!"

Bernard's face hardened in determination, and he finally stopped crying. "Well, I will work hard!"

A look of relief flashed across Madeleine's face, and she removed her arms from around the young boy with bright blue eyes. "See? Now you two troublemakers play nicely with each other," she cooed and nudged him towards Eris again, who welcomed him with a playful punch to his shoulder. The sight caused Madeleine to shake her head in amusement. "Oh my, even worse than my own siblings..."

Now that the children were busy playing tea party again, Crewel was allowed to return to the only other adult in the room. "Hm... Dire?" he called out when he found his colleague to be busy handling a large group of children.

Crowley was being climbed on by an endless amount of children. They were giggling and laughing as they were put to the floor again, only to resume their climbing fun. "Yes? Pardon me, I was busy dealing with all these Al-Asim children... There's a bunch of them! They are never-ending!" Crowley let out a little wail when one of the younger siblings began fiddling with his mask. "At least little Zahra is there to calm them down when things get a little bit too hectic."

All the children began rejoicing at once. "Zahra is our bestest friend!" they cried out together and rushed over to the older girl nearby.

She welcomed them with open arms and hugged them all in what seemed like an overwhelming group-hug. A genuinely happy smile decorated her face as she exclaimed, "Aww, I love you guys, too! Everyone of you: Malik, Fatima, Aamira, Ibrahim—"

"See? Never-ending," Crowley remarked, chuckling under his breath. Then, he turned away from the children and focused his entire attention on his colleague. "Now, what is it you needed from me, Divus?"

"Have you noticed the way all of these children address us as their grandfathers? Isn't that peculiar?"

"Well, there is a simple explanation for that—"

"Grandpa Divvy? H-Have you seen my mommy? I... I really miss her!" a little girl with flaming blue hair interjected. Tears stung in the corners of her eyes as she extended her arms out to him, wishing to he picked up. The professor reluctantly did so and cradled her in his arms when she began sniffing. "She wanted to read me some bed time stories— my favourite, even! Do you know the tale of Orpheus and Eurydice? Can you read it to me?"

"I'm sorry, but I don't know where your mother could be," Crewel muttered and tilted his head at her. "But now, on closer look... You really do look like (Y/n)."

At that, Crowley broke out into a loud bout of laughter. "Haven't you noticed yet, Divus? All of them look like (Y/n)!" By then, he was wiping the tears from his eyes. "And each of them also shares traits with some other students here at Night Raven College. Do you see that tall boy over there? I swear I've seen someone with blond hair and purple tips around campus before..."

The boy he spoke of stood next to a much smaller girl. A little pout graced her lips as she handed him a hair tie and pointed to her lavender-shade locks. "Konrad... Can you braid my hair, please? The braids opened up when I helped my daddy on the farm earlier..." she muttered and clasped her hands together adorably.

"Of course, Daisy." The blond boy smiled softly and urged her to turn around. With the utmost of care, he ran his fingers through her messy hair and unwinded even the most stubborn knots. "Would you like a French braid, or a fishtail braid... or perhaps we could try out a pull-through braid?"

"Oh— I'd like a French braid! My mommy isn't all that good at braiding, sadly. But she always tries her best!" An enthusiastic grin graced her lips as Konrad went to work with skilful and nimble fingers. After a while, an adorable snort escaped her lips, and she added, "But you should see my daddy try to braid my hair... He is always so impatient and gives up within a minute."

Konrad and Daisy broke out into a fit of giggles.

"Well, I love braiding hair! I wish I could braid my dad's hair, but he's always so busy with his job..." Konrad muttered under his breath and exhaled softly. "At least Mom always allows me to braid her hair, even if hers isn't as glossy and smooth as Dad's—"

The two were interrupted by a boy having snuck up on them and yelling, "Boo!" A grin appeared on his lips when the two children began screaming. The fear on their lips soon transformed into utter frustration, especially once they realised that the half-done braid had opened up again. The mischievous boy merely shot them a large grin, his sharp front teeth sticking out. He also possessed pointy ears and shaggy black hair, where little tufts of hair stuck out on each side. "Did I scare you?"

The headmaster let out an exasperated sigh and scolded, "Ciaran, don't go scaring others like that! People might start crying or—"

He was interrupted by a slap, its echo bouncing around in the office. Surprised, he realised that sweet and adorable Daisy had marched up to Ciaran and had whacked him over the head angrily. "Oi, take that, you stupid fae!" she yelled and began growling like a feral dog.

A series of whimpers escaped Ciaran's trembling lips. "Ouch..." He held his head in pain and watched in shock as Daisy marched back to Konrad, smiling innocently as if nothing had happened. Konrad patted her on the shoulder before beginning to braid her hair anew.

"—or they might take revenge... and then you'll start crying..." Crowley finished and shook his head in disbelief.

At once, a gentle human girl appeared by the side of the wounded fae child. She tucked her silver-coloured hair behind her ears before she soothingly whispered, "Hey, don't cry... Where does it hurt?" Her voice was as soft as expected, probably even able to lull the wildest of beasts to sleep.

Ciaran let out a series of sniffles. "She hit me here, Chimere..." He pointed to the red mark on his forehead.

Chimere smiled gently and took his hand into hers. "You don't need to cry... Adam and I are here for you," she cooed, and at her command, a green-haired boy with slightly pointed ears appeared by her side.

A confident grin appeared on Adam's face as he yelled out, "Yes! Don't cry!" The volume of his voice was so loud that he managed to outyell every other child in the office. He gave Ciaran's hand an empathetic squeeze. "It will go away!"

"Now my ears hurt..." Ciaran complained, yet smiled at his two friends.

Crewel, who had been in deep thought until now, let out a drawn-out sigh after having analysed the faces of the last three children. "You're right, Dire... They all look like (Y/n)..." he admitted woefully and cast his gaze at the ground. "You say that you destroyed the space-time continuum, right? Could that mean that these are various timelines where (Y/n)—"

"—married a different student here at Night Raven College and had children? Yes, absolutely! That's the only logical explanation," Crowley finished while picking up a tired Aria into his lap.

"Ah... I hate it here..." Crewel huffed in disappointment. "To think that my adopted darling child would marry one of these dirty street dogs..."

Crowley, however, waved him off and began laughing happily instead. "Hey, don't be so pessimistic, Divus! I love it here..." A blissful sigh escaped his lips when Aria had finally fallen asleep in his lap, softly breathing and cuddling up against his destroyed jacket. "Lots of grandchildren for me, (Y/n)'s other adoptive dad. And who else would be better at playing babysitter than me? Oh, this is simply paradise..."

"Excuse me?" it came from outside the office. "Headmaster Crowley, are you in there?"

Crowley froze in fear. "O-Oh— don't come in, please. I'm very busy right now!" he cried out nervously.

"It's me, (Y/n). It's an emergency! Grim climbed onto a tree and doesn't know how to get dowm now!" In your desperation, you had pushed the door open and marched inside, initially not even noticing the many children. You rushed over to the headmaster and clasped your hands together. "Please, he's been crying for the last hour already... and nothing we've tried so far works—" It was only when a child curiously tugged at your blazer that you realised how the room was filled to the brim with children. By then, they were all silently staring at you in awe.

"Uh... You must be wondering why there are so many children here..." Crowley trailed off and shot you a sheepish smile.

"Yes, indeed." You furrowed your eyebrows when all the children began flocking to your side. "Where did these guys come from?"

Crewel rubbed his temples in exhaustion. "Well, it's a long story—"

He was interrupted by a sudden return of the screaming and wailing from earlier, now tenfold worse. In a united chorus, all the children yelled out, "Mommy! Mommy!" Small and chubby hands were grabbing you wherever they could, even toppling you over and sending you falling to the floor.

"I missed you, Mommy!" someone screamed from your left.

From your right, someone yelled, "Mommy, can we finally go home now?"

The masses around you blurred into one big mess. "Help!" you cried out as you were hugged and squeezed by more children than you could count.

"Oh no," Crewel muttered, furrowing his eyebrows. "We have to help (Y/n), Dire!"

However, Crowley merely shook his head woefully. "I don't think we can, Divus. It would be impossible to tear a child from their mother— even more so when its dozens of little brats." The worried frown on his face soon turned into a enormous smile, and another heavenly sigh escaped his lips. By then, his eyes were basically the shape of hearts as he stared at the children in delight. "Well, what a grand opportunity to have met all of my lovely grandchildren! I should destroy the time-space continuum more often."

Crewel rolled his eyes. "Please don't..."

The screaming and yelling soon became unanimous — and you could somehow discern them yelling, "Mommy, I love you!"

[hertzwritings]

Bruises and bitemarks

A/N: this is a request from the sweet @impossiblyteenagestudent and I am STOKED, I tell you! Request: Ok I've got a smutty ask, based off something that happened this morning. I got a new boss and I met him today, and I kinda recognized him for some reason... we flirted biiig time on my 21st at a club, and now I'm practically living one of my favorite tropes. But what I'm asking is something along the lines of "we had a one night stand a while ago and you left before I woke up and I really liked you but now I'm your boss but you're wearing That Top I wanna take you on this table in the middle of this meeting"

BABY I GOT YOU!!!

You can buy me a coffee here, and I’ll write you a personalized drabble, one-shot or multichapter fic – the sky is the limit, so go nuts, my loves.

I love y’all so much!

Remember, feedback feeds the soul and my requests – and askbox – are always open – there’s no limits, because I am me and I have none.

MASTERLIST

ASK ME ANYTHING/REQUESTS

Pairing: Boss!Henry Cavill x female reader (Coworkers to lovers AU)

Contains: Language, slight fluff, a dash of secondhand embarrassment, smut (MINORS DNI), fingering, rough-ish sex, p in v, unprotected sex, age gap, sir-kink

W.C.: 2.240

  Bruises and bitemarks

You drew a deep, steadying breath as you looked to the office, a few nerves settling – not all, but it was the best you could do. You stood a little straighter, clutched your bag and smoothed your skirt down, before you made your way inside to meet your boss and get the tour.

You had been surprised to hear you got the job – because of the pandemic, it was a phone-interview, and you were sure you had botched it greatly, seeing as you were a stuttering mess through most of it. It didn’t help that your boss had the smoothest, most perfect voice with a British accent to boot.

  You had no idea how the office was, how everybody worked and you were only on a probationary period, so you needed to make sure, you made a great first impression. You smiled at one of the first people you met, a slender woman with jet-black hair, who sat at her desk and looked to you with a helpful smile. “I’m so sorry to disturb you.” She waved her hand. “Oh, no issue at all. What can I do for you?” You returned the smile. “I’m looking for Mr. Cavill’s office?” She nodded knowingly and stood, extending her hand to you. “You must be Y/N, the new publicist, right?” “That’s me.” “Great. Follow me, please.” She led you through the desks, smiling and smalltalking with whoever sat there, before she stopped in front of a closed door.

“You had a phone-interview, right?” You nodded. “Oh, girl… Listen, just a warning. The man is sort of intimidating, okay? He’s a giant.” You couldn’t reconcile the soft, smooth voice with a giant man in your head. “I’m telling you, he’s… Yeah.” “I’ll keep it in mind.” “Good.” She grinned widely at you. “I’m Anya, by the way. Welcome to the office!” And with that, she was gone. You gathered yourself for a moment before knocking, and heard the smooth voice call out for you to enter.

She hadn’t been lying.

His back was turned to you, but he was broad, his back and shoulders seemingly endless – his perfectly pressed dress-shirt seemed to strain at the seams across his shoulders and he had a mop of dark brown, slightly curly on top, and he was talking on the phone, his deep voice completely rendering you speechless.

“No, we won’t do that. Why? Because my team deserve more than 5 %. You can let me know what you want to do, but I’d suggest taking our offer, or you’re going to have to outsource, and that, my friend, will cost you dearly.” He hung up and turned around with a smile, that turned to a wondering frown. You understood all too well why, because flashes of images of his thick thigh between your legs, his teeth scraping your neck as he fucked you deeply and his dirty words ran rampant in your mind. The older man by at least 15 years, that you had dreamed of for too many nights, was your boss. Just your damn luck. 

Oh no.

“Uh…. Y/N?” He cleared his throat. “Yup.” Your voice was small and you cursed yourself and your libido far away. “Er… Oh, okay. Yeah, hi.” He smiled softly. “Good to see you.” He gestured to the chair in front of you and you sat down with a nervous smile. “Likewise.” Silence fell between you before he cleared his throat and weaved his fingers together – the very fingers, that had brought a very powerful orgasm to you – and he looked at you and swallowed thickly. “So… I, er…” “Same, honestly.” You understood what he was trying to say. “We should… Keep it professional, right?” You nodded. “Very professional.” You’d just ignore the urge to jump his bones. You could do that. He smiled gratefully and stood.

“Let me give you a tour.”

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

It had been just around three weeks, and you were about to implode. You didn’t know if it was on purpose or if it was solely because you were hyperaware of him, but you felt like you were constantly running into him – physically – or he’d have an excuse to touch you. It was torture, trying to stay professional, when he had apparently managed to Pavlov you so much, that a single touch from him made you soaking wet.

It didn’t help that the damn AC went out and the heat in the office was sweltering at this point; you had managed to take off as much as you could without sitting naked at your desk, but you were still sweating bullets. You could feel his eyes on you, as he gave a presentation of the next book, you were going to publish (something with a grey-haired man who killed monsters? You weren’t sure, you really didn’t pay attention to anything but his bulging arms in his t-shirt). The sound of the AC clunking back to life sent a cheer of happiness down the row of coworkers, and you exhaled happily. Thank god.

“Alright, everyone, I… You know what, take an early weekend. You have all worked through literal hell this week, so I think you deserve to go out and enjoy yourself a little. We’ll get back to Geralt and his adventures on Monday.” Everybody filed out of the conference-room, but he stopped you. “Y/N…” His eyes were dark as they landed on your chest, and you realized that your white tanktop didn’t exactly hide your pebbled nipples, that had gone out to full effect when cool air hit them. “Oh, I’m sorry…” He growled and cut you off, stalking to the door and locking it before turning back to you.

“Do you have any idea how hard I have to work to contain myself around you?” He stalked to you, and you backed up, your ass hitting the table. His arms caged you, his large hands resting on the table next to your hips. “How badly I want to take you and I wouldn’t give a damn about the consequences? I’ve been fantasizing about taking you and making you mine in front of the entire office, but I’ve managed to reel myself back.” Your breath hitched as his face came closer and closer to yours – you couldn’t see the blue anymore in his eyes. “But then you wear this fucking excuse of a top, and you expect me to keep myself… What, refrained? Collected? Do you have any idea of the effect you have on me, Y/N? How hard it is to keep a professional attitude around you, when all I’ve been thinking about is how it feels to be buried in you?” You squeaked. “Somewhat.” You replied breathily. He closed his eyes and with what seemed to be a great deal of willpower, he pulled himself away from you, crossed his arms and moved several paces away from you.

Your chest was heaving as you stared him down, your panties a mess already – your nipples were still hard and all you wanted was for him to lose his goddamn composure and fuck the living hell out of you. “You need to leave this room.” “You leave.” You retorted. His eyes flashed. “No, Y/N… You need to go.” “Why? Is this not my workspace as well?” He growled again and his fingers flexed. “I need you to go. I don’t know what I’ll do if you stay here.” You thought about it for a moment and grinned wickedly at him.

“How about your worst?”

He lost all semblance of normalcy and composure as soon as the words had left your mouth, and he was cupping your face in a single stride. His lips slotted over yours in desperation and eagerness, the same tension you had felt clearly lingering on his lips. You moaned against him, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer. It was breathtaking, desperate and completely wild; his tongue was everywhere, his hands on your ass (how did they get there?) and he pushed you back against the table, letting you sit down on it as he cleared the space with a swipe of his hand, the clattering of pencils, stables and whatever else, falling to the ground filled your ears. He settled between your legs, pushing his body against yours. “You’re fucking dangerous, Y/N…” He mumbled against your lips, fumbling to bunch your skirt up on your hips. You were wild now, your hands clawing at his shirt and pants, pulling the shirt out of the careful tuck and undid his belt. “So are you.” You mumbled back, tugging on his lips with your teeth. He snapped his hips, and you felt the shape of him against your thigh. He chuckled at that and did quick work of your panties, stuffing them in his pocket. You gasped as his thick fingers found your soaking hole. “We have to be fast, you understand?” He whispered, curling his fingers upwards and began pumping. You gasped and moaned, and his other hand fell over your lips with a wicked smile playing on his own. “And quiet.” You nodded desperately and rolled your hips to meet his fingers, desperate for release; he sped up, his fingers gliding effortlessly against a spot, that made you see fucking stars and you tossed your head back. “Are you going to be good and cum for me, darling?” His drawl made you lose your breath. Fuck, he was hotter than you remembered. You nodded. “Be a good girl and cum… When you call me sir.” Your entire body had shivers and he slowly removed his hand from your lips, prompting you to finally whisper as you looked him dead in the eye. “Sir…. Please… Can I cum?” You moaned softly as he sped up. “There’s a good girl.” You took that as acceptance and let go, your body trembling under the orgasm, that flooded every, single cell in your body. If you thought the drunken experience with him had been good, this was leagues above. His fingers worked you magically, like he already knew exactly what you needed, and his lips found your neck, teeth nipping at the sensitive skin as you rode your orgasm out. “I need… Fuck, Sir, I-I need you in me, please, please…” You were doing your best to undo his belt and push his pants down with trembling hands, and when he chuckled lowly, you damn near lost your mind. “Impatient, huh?” He smiled wickedly. “You have no idea.” You captured his lips with yours again and he quickly pushed his pants down to his knees, before sliding it against your folds – you whined at the feeling of his head catching your clit as he coated himself in your slick. “You need to stay quiet, baby.” He teased your entrance and your eyes rolled back. “Can you do that, or do I need to shut you up, darling?” You cocked an eyebrow at him and rolled your hips, a smile spreading on your lips. “I think you just might have to.” He chuckled darkly and kissed you as he entered you, slowly gliding inside of you inch after tantalizing inch, until he bottomed out with a guttural groan against your open mouth. “Fuck, you feel so good on my cock, baby….” “Sir…” You whispered a moan, letting his name tumble from your lips over and over as he began moving in and out of you, his cock dragging against your walls, that fluttered in response.

He began languidly to fuck you and you whimpered. “Please, just… Fuck me.” You whispered. He didn’t waste a second, grabbing a tight hold to your waist, rutting against you and buried himself deeply and swiftly. He dragged himself out again, before he began fucking you with insane speed, his balls slapping your bare ass with every single stroke of his long, throbbing cock inside of you. You came without warning, a strangled cry stuck in your throat as he swallowed every sound you made with his lips. It was fucking heaven, your walls clenching around him as you came, ripples of pleasure warming your entire body, nerve and cell – you would never want any other man than him. His speed stuttered a few times, his grip tightening on you and he made a solid effort to pull out, but you wrapped your legs around his hips and your arms around his neck, clinging to him. “No!” You whispered frantically. “Fill me. Please, fill me.” “Darling, I…” “I’m on the pill. Please…” You were wanton and needy – he growled and buried his head in the crook of your neck, his cock slamming deeply inside of you, the head hitting your cervix with every thrust, and he groaned against your skin, biting down hard, and stilled completely. He was twitching inside of you, filling you with his hot cum, the warmth of it pooling in you. You were both panting and gasping, him peppering kisses along your neck and shoulder.

“Fucking hell, Y/N…” You smiled at him and placed a small, soft kiss on him, before jumping off the table. His spend began trickling down your legs and he watched it with feral eyes. “Need these back?” He asked, holding your panties out to you. You cocked your head to the side. “How about you keep them?” You asked cheerily. He cocked an eyebrow at you and slapped your ass as you walked past him, tucking himself back in his pants.

“Do you have dinner plans?” He asked, following you to your desk. “Now I do.”

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

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[runnning-outof-time]

Loyalties | Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: yes by anonymous

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x reader, Michael Gray x reader (mentioned)

Summary: (Y/N) sees Henry Johnson again. Except he's not Henry Johnson anymore; he's Michael Gray. And he's come to join the company that she works for. The same company that's run by the man she has feelings for. Where do her loyalties truly lie?

Warnings: smoking, age gap

Word Count: 3924

A/N: I had an idea of doing something like this before I got this request, so thank you to whoever read my mind and helped me iron out the plot to it. I hope you enjoy! :)

———

Walking down the streets of the city she'd come to know as her new home, she hoped that she wouldn't have any problems with making it to work on time. In Small Heath, you just never knew. There was always someone on the street corner, either begging for an extra pound or yelling at the top of their lungs that 'we are all destined for hell'. Sometimes there was someone doing both.

(Y/N) moved to Small Heath three years ago, when she turned eighteen. She wanted so desperately to leave the quiet, secluded country life behind and decided to thrust herself into a world where it was the complete opposite. Birmingham was dusty and dirty, but it was teeming with life. Life that (Y/N) so desperately needed at the time of her moving.

She jumped from job to job. House cleaner, grocery merchant, nanny, anything that she could find that would help her pay her rent. It was three years after she moved to Small Heath when she stumbled upon an advertisement in the paper: office secretary. It was for the Shelby Company Ltd. They were starting to get bigger, and the boss needed someone in the front office in order to keep track of his diary as well as the different correspondences. She applied, was interviewed, and then three days later was informed that she'd gotten the job.

Working for the company was great. She was always being tasked with different jobs, so no two days were the same. It kept her on her toes. The people above her were a big help as well. She didn't hesitate to go to them if she was confused about something because she knew that they wouldn't berate her for asking. The company treasurer, Polly Gray, became like a mother to (Y/N). She found herself spending nights sitting on the betting shop floor with the older woman, talking about life and anything else that came to mind. She really cherished their relationship because she'd cut all ties with her family back in the country.

And then there was her boss: Tommy Shelby. She couldn't deny that he was attractive. There was something about him that drew her in, that left her mesmerized by him. Maybe it was because she couldn't quite figure him out. Some days, he'd come in and acknowledge her, wanting to have a conversation, and others he'd walk past as if she weren't even there. Polly told her it was because he was sulking. The woman he'd fallen in love with turned out to be someone she wasn't, and then she went off to America.

Then, one day, things changed. The conversations he was having with her were more about herself rather than work. And there were subtle touches here and there. She noticed that he'd started to stand closer and closer to her when he was speaking to her. That he would look her over when he entered the room. She felt his attraction to her. He made it obvious in his mannerisms. And she wanted nothing more than to make her attraction to him known, but he was her boss. Surely it would be frowned upon. But Tommy didn't seem to care. So (Y/N) tried not to either; playing along with his advances and seeing where they went.

She was sitting at her desk, penciling some events into Tommy's diary so that he knew he had to attend them. The door to the office opened, but she didn't bother looking up. "I'm looking for Thomas Shelby," a man spoke after he cleared his throat.

"Who is it that's asking for him?" she asked, still writing in the book.

"Michael Gray," the man answered. (Y/N) finally looked up. Who she saw made her jaw drop. Surely he wouldn't remember her she thought, so she didn't comment on it, instead standing up with the intent to go see if Tommy was busy.

She was unable to even get to the door because Tommy was already stepping out of his office. "Ah, Michael. You've decided to accept the invitation to meet with us," he greeted the man standing a few feet away from him. Then his eyes fell on (Y/N), who was still in shock. "You ok?" he asked her then, moving over to her and placing his hand against her back. Normally, she'd melt into his touch, but now, she felt tense. The last person she thought she'd ever see again had just walked back into her life. She was most certainly on edge.

"Yeah," she breathed a response as she nodded her head, glancing over at the younger man to see that his eyes were trained on the two of them.

Tommy only nodded his head to her before looking back at the other person in the room, nodding his head towards his office then. "Come into my office, Michael," he said, dropping his hold from (Y/N) but not before squeezing her waist slightly.

'Michael' nodded his head before walking forward, his eyes falling on (Y/N) as he walked past her. She felt the breath get caught in her throat as their eyes met, and she was only able to exhale it when the two men were back in the office.

She took another deep breath as she sat down at her desk once more, trying to clear her head and focus on the work she was doing. She was able to work for a good twenty minutes before her mind was sent into a spiral again thanks to someone tapping her on the shoulder.

"(Y/N)..." 'Michael' started, sending her a smile as he exhaled the rest of his breath, "I didn't think I'd see you again."

"Me neither," she mused, a million emotions running through her as she looked up at him.

"Maybe we could, uh...maybe we could catch up. Go to the spot we always used to," he suggested, a look of hope flashing across his face as he waited intently for her answer.

(Y/N) thought for a moment. What harm could making up for lost time do? So she nodded her head. "Yeah. I'd like to do that," she sent him a small smile, and he returned one of his own as he nodded his head.

"How about on the weekend? Saturday. I'll pick you up and we'll go," he thought up a plan, and (Y/N) nodded along with it.

"I think that sounds good," she agreed. Michael nodded once more before he said goodbye to her and left the office.

(Y/N) watched him leave before looking back down to the note she was writing. She didn't know Tommy was standing behind her until he cleared his throat. She gasped slightly as she turned to look at him, seeing that he was leaned up against the doorframe to his office. "Come," he beckoned her and she nodded, standing from her chair to follow him into his office.

She wasn't even able to say anything to him because the second she stepped through the threshold, Tommy's arms were around her waist and his lips were pressed against hers. She leaned into the kiss and looked up at him with wide eyes once they pulled away. "What was that for?" she questioned, a smile on her face.

"How do you know Michael?" he didn't answer her question, instead asking one of his own.

"His name isn't Michael, it's Henry," she pointed out before anything else could be said.

Tommy nodded his head at her response, a knowing look on his face. "So you don't know about Michael."

(Y/N) was confused now. "What does that mean?" she asked him with furrowed eyebrows.

"He should be the one to tell you," was all Tommy said before he released her from his hold to move back to his desk. He picked up the burning cigarette from the ashtray and took a drag before looking back over to her. "Oh and that..." he motioned over to her as he called her attention back to the kiss, "that was because I wanted to kiss you," he told her, a slight grin playing on his lips as (Y/N)'s cheeks heated up.

Tommy sat back down at his desk and (Y/N) took that as her cue to leave the room. So she returned to her desk, her mind now filled with the events that had just taken place. She was left swooning from Tommy's kiss, but Henry wouldn't leave her head. And now she wondered what it was that he had to be the one to tell her. Letting out a sigh, she tried to focus back on her work. The key word there was tried. She didn't get much work done that afternoon.

——

It was mid day when 'Michael' and (Y/N) arrived at the spot they spent much time at when they were younger. It was a quiet spot underneath an oak tree that sat along the edge of a river. 'Michael' set down a blanket and made sure it was stretched out before he helped (Y/N) to sit down. She sent a smile over to him as a thank you before watching as he sat down as well.

"So you live in Birmingham now?" he was the first person to speak. He'd relaxed back on his hands, his legs straight out in front of him.

"Yes, I do," (Y/N) nodded, looking over at him as she crossed her hands over her lap.

"Do you like the city?"

"I do. Living there is much more fulfilling than living here was," she remarked, looking out to the river then, "although I do miss coming to this spot often."

"I miss coming here with you, too," 'Michael' commented after it got quiet between the two of them. "Learned a lot about both you and myself while sitting right here."

"Why did you say your name was Michael Gray at the office the other day?" (Y/N) finally asked what was on her mind from the second they'd arrived. She looked over at him with an intent gaze and watched as he let out a sigh and tore his eyes from her.

"Because that is my name," he said softly, almost like he was ashamed of it.

"No," (Y/N) shook her head, confusion filling her features, "no, your name's Henry Johnson."

"It's not," 'Michael' shook his head, "my real name is Michael Gray and the people who I thought were my parents weren't actually my parents," he told her, traces of anger in his voice. At first, (Y/N) was confused as to why he'd be angry, but the more she thought about it, the more it made sense. He'd essentially been living a lie — living a life that wasn't his. She couldn't imagine what it'd feel like to find that out at the age of eighteen. "I was taken away from my real mother when I was young. My 'parents' raised me as theirs but they never told me who I really was. They never told me that I was adopted."

(Y/N) gave him a sympathetic look before they both looked out at the river. "What's it like working for my cousin?" Michael asked after a few minutes passed.

"Your what?" she asked for clarification, unsure if she'd heard him right.

"Tommy Shelby is my cousin. His aunt, Elizabeth Gray, is my mother," he explained, and (Y/N) had to stop her jaw from dropping. She never expected to see Henry Johnson, who was actually named Michael Gray, again. But now he was sitting in front of her and she'd just learned that he was related to her boss...the same person she'd been involved with for the last several months.

"Oh..." was all she said as she tried to buy herself some time to think of what more she could say. So far, she was coming up blank, "I'm sorry...I just really didn't expect that," she told him as she let out a laugh. She couldn't think of the words to answer his question because her head was swirling with this new information.

"That's ok," Michael smiled slightly as he looked over at her. "I asked Tommy if I could join the company. I want to move to Small Heath," he told her, sharing another piece of information that made her jaw want to drop into her lap.

"Oh really?" she feigned surprise, hoping he'd take it as being true.

"Yeah. Figured I'd be a part of my real family's business," he nodded his head, "and maybe...maybe you could even be my secretary," he contemplated, a wider smile on his face as he moved over closer to her, his hand going to rest on top of hers that was sitting on the blanket.

(Y/N) couldn't think straight. Between the information she was just given, and the hand that was sitting on top of hers, she didn't know what to say. "Wow..." she mused a pathetic response, her statement coming out in a breathy tone. It was like she was speaking more so to herself than to Michael.

"I'm happy I've found you again," Michael smiled at her before he leaned over and pressed his lips to her cheek. (Y/N)'s heart started beating faster at the feeling of his lips on her skin. She didn't think it would affect her like it did. Those feelings that had been dead for close to four years now were coming back like not a day had passed since she last saw him. She had no idea what to do. So she just smiled over at him when he pulled away.

They spent the rest of the day sitting underneath the oak tree, catching up on the years they'd spent apart. Although she hated to admit it, she deeply enjoyed spending time with Michael. It was like not a day had passed since they were last together. And it surprised her how much about her he still remembered. (Y/N) was now faced with a decision. Did she act upon the feelings that were quickly resurfacing for Michael? Or did she continue to let her feelings for Tommy grow? She knew one person she could go to for help.

——

"What are you still doing here this late?" Polly questioned after backtracking to the offices when she saw (Y/N) still sitting at her desk.

"I want to get these reports finished," (Y/N) responded, resting her head on her hand as she continued on writing. The sound of Polly's heels approaching her made her look up at the older woman.

Upon seeing her, Polly pulled a face that showed she was concerned for the well-being of the younger woman. "You look like hell, (Y/N). Is something wrong?" she asked, her eyebrows furrowed together. (Y/N) took a moment before responding. She wasn't sure if she wanted to bother Polly with her problems. Before she could say anything, Polly was coaxing her to leave her desk. "Come with me, love. We're going to my place for a drink," she said as she waved her along. "And don't even think about disputing it because you most certainly look like you need it," she didn't let her turn it down. So with a sigh, (Y/N) stood from her chair and let Polly lead her out of the office and out to the car that was waiting for her.

—

"So what's it that's on your mind?" Polly questioned after the two women had sat on the couches in the main living area of Polly's home.

"I've got a bit of a dilemma, Pol," (Y/N) sighed as she took a sip from her glass.

"And what's that dilemma?" Polly asked for her to elaborate.

"Oh...my love life has gotten rather complicated recently," she couldn't deny that she felt slightly embarrassed in admitting that.

"With Thomas?" This made (Y/N) look up. There was a look of surprise on her face because she didn't know that the older woman had known about the two of them. Polly let out a laugh as she saw her expression, "what's going on between the two of you is obvious," she stated in a matter-of-fact tone, making (Y/N)'s cheeks heat up.

"Not quite with Thomas, no. Someone from my past has come back into my life. The feelings that I thought were dead and gone returned with him. So now it feels like my heart's torn," she explained her dilemma, ending her sentence with a sigh as she looked over to the fireplace.

"And who's this other man? The one from your past," Polly asked for more details. (Y/N)'s cheeks heated up again in anticipation of what Polly would say once she found out that the man from her past was in fact her son.

"His name is Henry...er, Michael," she stopped herself from using the name that she once called him; the name that she knew to be his. "Polly, the other man is your son, Michael Gray," she came right out and said it. "He and I...we lived close to each other. We knew each other from school and would spend a lot of time together because I'd rather be anywhere besides at my house with my terrible excuses for parents. We had a bit of a relationship, but it was young, foolish love and in the end, it was one of the only things that were making me happy living there. He understood the reasons why I had to leave and that I wanted to find myself somewhere new. He was fine with me going, but I felt bad that I was leaving him there because I did enjoy spending time with him. So seeing him out of the blue and spending time with him again so suddenly just threw me for a loop and it made me wonder if I still harbored those feelings for him," she then went about explaining her and Michael’s backstory.

And understandably, Polly looked shocked when she heard this news. Her eyebrows were raised slightly and her mouth took the shape of the letter 'o' as she listened to (Y/N) speak. A heavy silence hung between them once the younger woman finished, and it made (Y/N) anxious. She had no clue what Polly would say. She was the very person who gave her more information on Tommy when she had been curious about who he was. In a way, she pushed the (Y/N) to pursue him. So (Y/N) was hesitant to find out if her tune would change in regards to Tommy now that she knew of the past between this young woman and her son.

"You've got to decide where your loyalties lie," she finally spoke. Her response didn't favor either side, and instead made (Y/N) realize that she had to do some thinking before she could make her decision. So she only nodded her head before she focused on her glass, thinking hard of something to change the topic of discussion.

They settled in to talking about the goings on of the town, and the fact that Ada was due to come back into Small Heath in a few days. Still, Polly's words never left (Y/N)'s brain. Where did her loyalties lie?

——

The day had started like any other. (Y/N) entered the office and got right to work on the assignments that had been left on her desk the night prior. She kept working until she heard someone enter the office. Looking up, she saw Michael approaching her desk. She had learned to become comfortable in his presence now that Tommy had offered him a job on the accounting side of the company. He kept to his office most of the time, but they still crossed each others' paths now and then.

"Good morning, Micheal," (Y/N) smiled politely as she looked at him.

"Good morning, (Y/N)," he returned the greeting before producing a sealed envelope from the inside pocket of his jacket. "When you can, please give this to Tommy. It is a suggestion I'd like to make in regards to the company," he explained his reasoning behind giving her the envelope.

"I'll make sure he gets it as soon as possible," (Y/N) nodded her head as she assured him, taking the envelope from his hands and setting it on the desk.

"Thank you," Michael said with a smile before he exited the office to go to his own.

(Y/N) stood from her chair as soon as he disappeared. She went to the door of Tommy's office and knocked on it, opening it as soon as he called for her to come in. She desperately wanted to know the contents of Michael's letter.

"Is something wrong, (Y/N)?" Tommy asked from where he was sitting behind his desk, a cigarette balanced between his fingers.

"No. Michael just gave me this envelope to give to you. I figured it was urgent, so I acted on it right away," she explained, walking across the room so that she was now in front of his desk. He extended his hand for the envelope and she handed it to him, watching as he put the cigarette between his lips so that he'd have two hands to open it. She watched him intently as he read it over, her eyebrows furrowing as he let out a suppressed laugh and set the note down on his desk. "What?" she asked, her curiosity getting the best of her.

"Michael has requested for you to become his secretary," he told her the main request of the letter.

"Oh?" she replied with surprise, this being the last thing that she expected the contents of the letter to be.

Tommy nodded his head. "I'll leave the decision up to you," he told her as he shoved his hands into his pockets.

"No."

"What?" Tommy craned his neck, his brows furrowed at her response.

"My decision is no," (Y/N) repeated herself, crossing her arms over her chest.

A ghost of a smile flashed across Tommy’s lips as he heard her response, but he masked it by looking down to the floor. “Did you and Michael have a past?” he asked once he composed himself.

“Yeah,” (Y/N) nodded her head, “and it’ll stay in the past,” she stated as she confidently made her way over to his side. She lifted her hands then, unsure of what to do with them for a second before she rested them against his ribcage. She had a smile on her face as she looked up at him. “I was told to decide where my loyalties lie...” she trailed off, holding his intense gaze for a moment before continuing, “my loyalty lies with you, Thomas,” she assured him, her heart fluttering as a smile broke onto his face and he exuded a slight laugh.

Taking advantage of the moment, she stretched up onto her toes and pressed her lips to his. He caught her in her place, his hands moving to her cheeks as he kissed her passionately. They were both smiling as they pulled away. “I’m happy to hear that,” Tommy stated, his eyes flickering to her lips before he kissed her again. Michael being part of the company now didn’t matter to (Y/N) anymore. She’d stick by Tommy’s side no matter what.

———

Tagged: @alreadybroken-ts @magicalxdaydream @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @golden-hoax @elenavampire21

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