#no we’re not some 50/50 mix every time

[juniorfor2]

For all the racism that’s very obvious in the show, I really think one big one has been missed - C&H’s decision to make the Velaryon boys bastards, instead of Laenor’s sons by blood, simply because of their skin color.

Due to the writers’ decision to make the Velaryons black, but Jace, Luke, and Joffrey white, this was used to support the idea that they must be bastards. Rather than using hair color, only skin color is brought up as an issue (or at least that’s what’s obviously implied). Because the writers think that kids come out looking like a 50/50 mix of their parents. That if they aren’t exactly in the middle of Laenor and Rhaenyra’s skin color, then they can only be bastards.

But this just isn’t how real life works. Kids come out looking all sorts of ways, lighter or darker than both their parents, right in the middle, or only like one parent. My own mother is from Pakistan, but I came out looking exactly like my white, American father (except as a girl).

And that has consequences for a lot of people. Those who come out looking different from one parent can often experience difficulties as others refuse to see them as part of their group or culture. Biracial children are often forced to choose one race over the other, or are deliberately excluded from one group because they aren’t light or dark enough.

And the thing is, this issue is actually raised in the show. Vaemond actually gets the closest to the real life issue, when he says to Rhaenyra, “you wouldn’t know Velaryon blood if you saw it.” Because they are white, they are excluded from being Velaryon. They are viewed almost as weird colonizer-parallels, “stealing” from the only black family in the show, thereby erasing any racial culture the Velaryons currently have.

Even Alicent, despite not being part of the dispute, shows so much disgust towards the boys. They aren’t darker skinned, and so she views them as unworthy and unable to be part of the Velaryon family. It’s not even her fight, but she still is vitriolic towards them - and that’s how so many biracial people are actually perceived and treated in real life.

The issue of how biracial children are perceived should have been a fairly easy message to portray and resolve. We could have seen how Jace was ostracized and pushed away because of his looks, how much it hurt him for everyone to say he wasn’t Velaryon, even while Laenor raised him and viewed him as his son. We could have then seen how Jace eventually resolves this, realizing that it doesn’t matter what he looks like, because all that mattered was that Laenor was his father who loved him and raised him with Velaryon culture. That Corlys accepted him as well, despite the rumors.

But C&H, because they are both racist and mainly ignorant of how skin color works in real life, went the easy route and didn’t try to even find a single explanation for why the kids could be Laenor’s children by blood. I don’t need a complete reversal to make them undoubtedly Laenor’s, but some ambiguity would have been nice.

[mcondance]

washday tmrw so

hobie makes a playlist titled “wash day” the day before wash day for you to listen to while you two wash and detangle your hair. he goes and buys lots of your fav snacks to stock in your shared bathroom, with its own designated washday rack

when the day comes, he’s the most helpful man in the world. he starts the playlist and then makes sure the water’s warm, throws some towels in the dryer for after, and gets to work.

he knows he can’t just go 51/50, drenching your hair, cause then it’ll tangle. this is the worst part for him, your small winces and jolts as he separates your hair into fourths fill him with regret at the pain. “‘m sorry love, ‘s the worst part, then it’s over.”

he’s so gentle, running his bare hands over your hair— he’s taken his rings off already so they don’t get caught in your shit 😭 the scent of your strawberry shampoo fills the room, mixing with hobie’s natural smell that brings you comfort as you nuzzle into his bare chest from where you sit in a bra and shorts.

his slim fingers work the fruity smell through your hair, making sure to coat every strand— “gotta make sure i get it everywhere. smells good, by the way.” he tells you this every time he washes your hair, and every time, you can’t get over it. last time, it was a mango scented lather.

lithe fingers scraping your scalp, you damn near lull to sleep.. that is until the beginning notes of your favorite song meet your ears. “can always count on you to put some good shit on here, hobaby.” he grins at your nickname, scratching your scalp the way you taught him way back when. downing snacks, you revel in the feeling of his experienced hands in your hair.

singing and swaying to your favorite song with you, he makes sure to massage your scalp and get it as clean as possible. by the time he feels like ending your scalp massage, you’re leaning against his stomach, breathing slow and content, relaxed and in love.

“time to wash it out, babe.” you tilt your head back and he cups his hand over your forehead, creating a barrier between the water and shampoo and your eyes. kissing your forehead, he brings the shower head over your hair, smiling when you giggle at his lovey little gesture.

hair clean and ready to condition, he lathers a fuck ton of it on, which is really what you need. you don’t mind 🤷🏾‍♀️

anyways, he does the whole conditioning process… then it’s time to detangle. he pats your hair with one of the towels out of the dryer, keeping the other one spinning. combs in hand, you both tackle the arduous task, made easier by the music and most importantly, your lover.

he’s sure to warn you when he feels he’s about to hit a knot or tangle, a soft “gonna get caught here, probably” leaving his upturned lips, pierced eyebrows furrowed in focus.

it’s sweet, sitting between his legs in your living room in a bra and shorts, trusting a man enough to let him in your hair. he doesn’t take it for granted, knows how much it should mean to him and it means more than that, to be honest. it means the world to him.

when y’all are finally done, last section of hair detangled, he celebrates.

“we handled that, babe. we ‘ate that’.” you both giggle at his use of your slang, turning around to kiss him on his pretty lips.

he smiles against your lips.

“we’re such big steppas!” you exclaim in excitement, loving eyes fixed on his perfect face. his reaction doesn’t disappoint, smile tugging at his lips before it turns into a toothy grin, laughs racking through his chest.

“go get undressed, i’ll get your towel.” he kisses you again before you walk off to your bedroom, reveling in the feeling of finally getting your wet clothes off. he’s not far behind you with the warm towel, passing it to you and giving you the clothes he set out this morning.

“you look peng, love.” he compliments you with a proud smile, eyes flitting over your curls.

“yeah, yeah, whatever.” you brush him off, shy and bashful.

washday is so much easier with hobie by your side.

[cloudy-em]

The Deal - Lip Gallagher x Fem!Reader

To be honest, I don’t know why it started. I made a deal with Y/N that if she pretended to be my girlfriend so I could avoid Andrea, then I’d do whatever she wanted for a day. It was stupid. I didn’t even like Andrea. We had sex at a party one time and suddenly she was following me everywhere. Of all the people I could’ve asked to fake date me, I don’t know why I asked Y/N. Some neo-freudians can claim that it was my subconscious trying to manifest my hidden urges into real life, or a neuroscientist can claim that I’m not a genius and that I’m actually stupid. I’d definitely agree with both perspectives. 

At first I was shocked that Y/N even agreed. We’re close friends, sure, but it was definitely a higher-stakes ask. When she said yes, I felt a bubbling excitement, but I wrote it off as excitement that I could finally get Andrea to leave me the fuck alone. 

It started slow. We’d hold hands at school, skip class to smoke together. Nothing out of the ordinary for us. Usually, I’d hold her hand in the busy hallways to ensure she wouldn’t get pushed around, and we always shared our cigarette and weed stashes with each other. That was phase one. 

Phase two consisted of being seen alone together in public. I’d saved up some money from doing other kids’ homework, so I’d start taking Y/N out on dates. Not under the L or to the Alibi where we could get free beer, but actual dates where people would see us. Little diners nearby, nothing to expensive. We’d go after school most Fridays and get fries or milkshakes to share. Pretty soon, rumors were spreading that Lip Gallagher was no longer available for a quick fuck because he was dating Y/N L/N. 

Phase three was the phase I figured would keep Andrea away for sure. Y/N and I would leave classes and pretend to fuck in janitor’s closets and bathrooms, locking ourselves in and fake moaning, trying not to laugh at each other over how stupid it all seemed. She’d started sleeping over in my room as a “just in case”, and it worked out for both of us. If Andrea was ever walking by the house, she’d see us walking in or out together or in the windows. It worked for her because she got to avoid her home life. We’d share cigarettes curled up in the top bunk together, laughing over how we’d gotten $50 each from one kid’s tutoring session. Andrea didn’t stand down. 

Phase four was the last and final phase that Carl, Ian, and I had planned to keep Andrea away. Y/N and I would go to a party, drink a lot, get a little handsy, and head back home together. Andrea was a party girl for sure, and there’s no way she’d miss one, which made it easy for Y/N and I to execute the finale of the operation. Ryan Bodero was hosting a big party, and Y/N and I thought it would be a good one to finalize our mission. We arrived fashionably late (we smoked a joint together to help us get through the evening) and the party was in full swing. Drunk students everywhere, clouds of smoke, loud music, and enough alcohol to be a full-service bar. I squeezed Y/N’s hand, guiding her through the crowd. She let go of my hand to hold onto my bicep as she stood on her tip-toes to whisper in my ear. 

“Andrea’s over there, by the bar, you wanna get a drink?” she pulled away and smirked. I nodded at her before rejoining are hands and heading over to the “bar”. We stood right next to Andrea. Perfect. 

“Alright, baby, what do you want? I’ll make it for you,” I was playing the role of good boyfriend probably louder than I needed to, but whatever it took. Y/N giggled, twirling her hair and pretending to think. “Hmm, what about a vodka cranberry?” she requested. Of course, after being friends for years, I knew that’s what she wanted. I nodded and kissed her forehead before moving over down the counter to mix her drink. I’d never kissed her forehead before. The only PDA we exhibited were hugs and handholding, but it felt natural to place a kiss there, like I was keeping her safe while I was away. After everything she’s been through, it’s what she deserves. I’m supposed to be her loving boyfriend, afterall. 

I finish her drink and bring it over to her, a beer in my other hand for me. She takes her drink and takes a sip, knowing before she even tasted it I made it how she likes it. She smiled at me, wrapping one arm around my neck in a brief hug and pulling away. It was too soon. “Thanks, honey! I’m gonna go talk to Laila real quick and then I’ll be back!” I watched her walk away, smiling even after she left and leaned up against the counter, looking around the room. When I turned to my right, Andrea was suddenly there. 

“So, you and Y/N, huh?” she asked. Thank god, she’s finally accepting that I don’t like her, and she’ll move on. “Yeah,” I sighed. “Best thing that ever happened to me!” I laughed. “Ha, well, I don’t think you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to her,” Andrea says. I’m confused, and she can see it on my face, so she grabs my chin and turns my face to where she’s looking. Y/N and Ryan Bodero are talking, a bit too close for comfort, and his hands are on her hips. Only, she doesn’t seem to want them there. I feel my blood boil, ripping my face from Andrea’s grip. 

“Hey, asshole!” I say, walking towards Ryan. “That’s my girl, didn’t you know?” Ryan rolls his eyes and laughs, “No, but I don’t think she cares.” He pulls her closer for emphasis, but she tries to pull away, an uncomfortable look on her face. “Let me go,” she says to him before looking at me, practically begging me to do something. 

“Alright look, Ryan, I get that you have no respect for women, but let me teach you something. When a lady says no, you respect her,” I tell him, smashing my beer bottle on the side of his head. He lets her go and stumbles backwards, but comes back for me. We throw a few punches back and forth. My knuckles are hot, but I barely notice the pain. He can’t treat Y/N like that. I won’t allow it. He gets me in the eye, and I’m sent backwards. I go to lurch forward again, but Y/N touches my bicep. 

“Lip, you’re hurt, let’s go please,” she says. I nod at her, seeing her concern, but I turn to Ryan. “This isn’t over.” Ryan turns back to his friends as Y/N and I walk away. I hear her mutter, “yes, it is over.”

It’s a short walk back to my place, Y/N still clung to my arm, quiet but worried. When we walk inside, she tells me to go sit in the kitchen. I do. She grabs ice and some towels to clean up the blood and put ice on my eye to keep the swelling down. I’m sitting in the chair, and she’s standing in front of me, one of the few times she’s ever taller than me. I can’t help but stare up at her, but she doesn’t meet my gaze, too focused on cleaning the blood from my lip and nose. 

“Lip,” she starts. “You can’t just start fights like that. Someone could call the cops or maybe he’ll press charges! You can’t afford to go to jail.” 

“I know, baby,” the nickname rolling off my tongue like second nature and I barely notice her shoulders tense. “But he wasn’t respecting you, and he needed to be taught a lesson.” 

“No, he didn’t-” she starts to argue. “Dammit, you’re my girlfriend and I love you! Let me look out for you, please!” I’m slightly exasperated, not even realizing my confession. She’s shocked, lips parted like she wants to say something but can’t. I sigh, slouching in the chair, defeated. 

“Look, I know that wasn’t the deal. You didn’t sign up for a real relationship. But we’ve been friends for years and I’ve had a crush on you but I kept trying to get over it because I didn’t wanna fuck things up and here I am fucking things up but the more we fake dated, the more it felt real and I know in reality you’re single and you can do what you want but seeing my girlfriend being harassed by some asshole just made me so mad and I just lost it. I’m sorry.” I don’t usually talk about my feelings. I don’t even remember the last time I talked about my feelings. But I needed her to know that it wasn’t a spur of the moment thing, that I wasn’t just lonely. That I really cared for her. I closed my eyes, preparing for the worst. 

I feel her run her fingers through my hair, her rings gently tugging on the strands. 

“You’re right, baby,” she says softly. I look up at her, and we make eye contact for the first time since we walked through the door. “You’re my boyfriend. I should let you look out for me, just like you should let me look out for you. We’re in this together, right?” I nod, at a loss for words, still processing. I wrap my arms around her, my head hitting just below her breasts as I hold her tightly, her fingers still moving through my hair. 

“What do you say we forget this whole deal and we just date like we’re supposed to?” 

We both liked that idea.

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thank you so much for reading!!

requests are open, so send me a message if you have any ideas or if you'd like to join one of my taglists!

[whentherewerebicycles]

sigh okay I gotta talk out some weight stuff under the cut.

I am thinking pretty seriously about obtaining the magic weight loss drug through one of these compounding pharmacies. I have a lot of mixed feelings about this for a lot of reasons but I also feel the unbelievable magnetic pull that I am sure every chunky woman who’s experienced girlhood in america (or maybe anywhere) feels. I would like to feel good in my body at any size but I don’t. I would like to not care about my weight but I do. I think I am feeling particularly frantic about weight right now because during the pandemic I busted my ass to lose 30 lbs (we’re talking 90-120 min of exercise a day that caused overuse injuries + a religiously followed whole foods plant-based diet). and I was STILL overweight and could not get the scale to move lower. then I got pregnant, gained 50 lbs, and am still struggling mightily to shed the leftover 20-25. I simply do not have the time or the strength of will to do that kind of exercise program again. and part of me is like: why can’t I just use the magic drug? why can’t I just use it to get me down to a weight I can then work hard to maintain? PCOS makes it so so hard to shift my weight at all and I feel so discouraged thinking about spending years trying to get back down to a healthier range and I’m just like. why can’t I cheat a little bit. why can’t I artificially give myself what someone with a better metabolism has. I guess I don’t need anyone’s permission to do it but it also feels like folding. why? I don’t know. maybe because I spent my entire girlhood and early adulthood in a state of total mental anguish about my body and now you can just like. fix it. that’s insane! what will all that anguish have been for!

[skzdiary]

Heyyy!! I saw you were asking for requests? I have a request. Could you please do lee! Hyunjin switch, Ler! Seungmin switch?

The plot could be Seungmin was bored and decided to tickle hyunjin. Then hyunjin wanted revenge. Obviously you don’t have to use this plot, just an idea.

Thank youuuu!!

Yessss! I love this idea sm! Tysm xx sorry if it’s quite short like my last one, I’ve been really busy atm!

~Sensitive~

lee! seungmin,hyunjin

ler! seungmin,hyunjin

The ferret and puppy were both chilling in the lounge on the sofa playing Mario Kart. Every time a round ended, Seungmin always was the winner.

“Oh come on man! At least let me try to win!” Hyunjin said fustrated at the younger.

“Gee, you need your morning coffee don’t you? Want me to make you one?”

“A Vanilla Latte, with lots of milk with 1 sugar please, if that’s okay?” Seungmin stood to his feet and dawdled his way to the kitchen and jinnie sighed and giggled. He couldn’t be mad at that big ball of cuteness.

In fact, he kept it a secret, the puppy was his favourite. Not because he made him coffee every morning but he was just a bundle of joy to him.

In the kitchen, Minnie was making the latte whilst whistling to Butterflies. Han and Lee know we’re also in the kitchen helping Felix make the “Lee Yongbok Cookies.” Minnie finished putting in the milk but then got distracted by helping his hyung stir the batter in the mixing bowl whilst they chopped up some ingredients.

He added the 1 sugar the ferret asked for into the latte, he made his way back to the older who is craving his coffee.

“Here you go! One vanilla latte” hyunjin gave the vocalist a warm smiled and patted his leg.

“I wonder if he’s sensitive?” the puppy thought to himself. Surely he had to be in some way?

The dancer took one sip of the latte and made a warm facial expression. He was in his coffee heaven moment for about 20 seconds straight until he got interrupted by a very peculiar prod on his side.

“aAGH- dohohont do that. You nearly made me spill my coffee!” Jinnie giggled cutely as he got slightly nervous.

“Oh~ I’m terribly sorry my prince, you mean like this?” Min took the coffee cup out of his hand and started to lightly scratch the elders neck which made soft giggles come out of him.

“Plehehease, I just wahahant to finish my cohohoffee!” the dancer complained to the younger as he tried to grab ahold of his wrists. He was starting to get a little weak by all the tickly sensations all over his neck.

“And I want my daily dose of giggles from my prince!~ if I can’t get my giggles then you don’t get your coffee, 50/50!” the puppy at on top of the ferret and pulled him down into his lap; started to drill his fingers into his sides.

“NAHAHAHAHA, NOHOHOHOT THEHEHERE” the olders laughter only continued to get louder as Seungmin continuously went for his weak spot. “IM BEHEHEHGING, IHITS SOHO BAHAD”

Hyunjin somehow managed to break his hands free. He flipped himself over on top of the vocalist and pinned his wrists above his head. Minnie was already laughing hysterically

“plehehease, I’m sohohory! Have your cohohoffee! NONONONONOHOHOHOHO!~” hyunjin called over for Lee know and asked Lee know to take over holding his wrists. The dancer went in for the full attack for the youngers underarm. One of his worst spots.

Unfortunately for the puppy, his laugher could probably be heard from the other side of the world. His giggles only were getting louse by the second.

“PLEHEHEHEASE HYUNJIN, STOHOHOP” min begged.

“What happend to hyung, hm? Is that not a thing anymore?” he started to go for his sides until he got the answer he was satisfied with.

“FIHIHINE, HYUNG PLEHEHEASE! ENOHOHOUGH NOHOW~” hyunjin stopped at ease and the puppy heavily panted.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you laugh so hard.” Lee know laughed and death stared his hyung.

“I’d run if I were you, you’re next to be wrecked” Seungmin chased the bunny into the room next door and shut the door for him to have no escape.

Hyunjin could finally have his coffee in peace. Although, coming to think of it, he couldn’t say he didn’t enjoy what just occurred. The puppy is really a cuteness overload

_______________________________

AHH I LOVE THIS SMM! TY FOR THE IDEA. The fact I wrote this at 1:00am just says how much I wanted to write this 😭🐺

tags: @itzsana-kiddingmenow @jihyosdaughter @leeknowstan33 @jeonginsdiary @wereallgonnadieonedaybutnottoday @gyuusauce @skz-addict @skznccmlee

[adhdbisexualramblings]

Regressor FLOWEY headcanons!

-Involuntary and trauma regressor. Enough said.

-He cries a lot. He was an extremely sensitive child, and the extra things he’s gone through (and did himself) don’t make that better.

-It’s not so much regression as it is…acting his age? Flowey doesn’t really ‘act’ like a child at all. When he lets himself do so, he can be more tolerable and sweet. I guess he’s be closer to an age dreamer, then.

-But give him a pacifier and he will slip into a much younger headspace. We’re talking toddler to infant.

-Regression means he doesn’t have to think about RESETs or timelines or anything past the present moment, but he’s also a really big crybaby.

-His regression fluctuates a lot. He could switch from infant to little kid at the flip of a coin. It’s hard to track what headspace he’s fully immersed in.

-The only ‘gear’ he has is a pacifier Papyrus gave him one timeline (which he has subsequently stolen every other timeline). He cherishes it and panics when he loses it. It’s pastel orange with a red race car on the front.

-The only people he’s felt comfortable with were Papyrus, Sans (Papyrus left them alone together one time and they have actually formed positive bonds some timelines) and, later, Frisk (though that’s only on extremely rare occasions when neither of the skeletons are available).

-When he was alone, to shut down his regression - which was often confused with memories and sentimentality - Flowey would just…kill things until it went away.

-Either that, or shoot bullets at whatever he could find that wasn’t a monster.

-He hates when Toriel or Asgore try to do anything with him while he’s regressed. It’s partially because it brings back dangerous memories and partially because neither of them are what he needs or wants most days.

-He can be very quiet and shy one second or fussy and demanding the next. It really depends on who’s taking care of him.

-Can and has sobbed about multiple of his old genocide runs out of the blue.

-Regression is almost like traveling to the past for him, which has a 50/50 chance of ending horribly. He doesn’t understand where his older sibling is or why he’s not being called by his name some days, which freaks him out.

-He’ll respond to ‘Asriel’ absentmindedly.

-Regression is strange to him. It’s like reaching for a memory you know used to be there. He can act as lovey-dovey and sweet as when he was Asriel, but whether that’s genuine is debatable. After he gets back into a more sensible headspace, Flowey wonders about his lack of a SOUL every time. It feels genuine, sure, but why? Memories, going back to a time where he was happy, shouldn’t be enough to alter his physical state. He’s SOULless, and therefore can no longer do things like that properly.

-He has auditory processing disorder and prefers hiding under thick clothing like sweaters if he’s being carried around. It muffles noise.

-Papyrus is his main caregiver. Or Sans, if they’re on good enough terms.

-Flowey despises the very feeling of regression. Every. Time. It just makes him angry when he notices it. Asriel is dead, should be dead. So why is he still just some kid? Why does he still crave what he decided was meaningless RESETs ago?

-When Toriel was sleeping in the RUINS, he would pop out of the floorboards occasionally to watch her or, if he felt particularly uneasy, rest with her in bed.

-Asriel was an extreme people pleaser. He was taught to be kind, which led too often to him being a doormat. Regressed Flowey is similar, and won’t like outwardly saying what he needs.

-Sans once found out Flowey was Asriel one timeline and called him ‘little prince’ when the flower regressed at his house. Flowey has attempted to erase all remnants of that RESET to no avail.

-Sans will also call him little prince/prince by instinct, which Flowey feels mixed about.

-He loves coloring and plush toys. However, the sharp thorns on his vines makes crayons and stuffed animals difficult to grab without hurting them, so he…doesn’t get many opportunities.

-There are times where he regresses for a full day and does nothing but sleep. He’ll fall asleep in the patch of golden flowers and panic when he wakes back up.

-Papyrus understands that his friend doesn’t like being public with his thing-Sans-also-does (Sans is a flip but shh that’s another post), so he tries very hard to take care of Flowey privately when he can. When they were in Snowdin, Flowey would stay in Papyrus’ room.

-Only Papyrus, Frisk (and by extension Chara), and oddly enough Toriel consistently know he regresses. Others have forgotten across SAVEs.

[willtheweaver]

Alpha-write

Thanks @agirlandherquill this sure does look interesting

Rules: For every letter of the alphabet, comprise a sentence/short paragraph beginning with that letter

A- “All systems go. Let’s she what this new ship can do.”

B- Barely anything was standing on the planet’s surface. All around were huge craters and mountains of crumbled rock and dust. What water there was was as corrosive as hydrochloric acid. What kind of weapons could do this, and what kind of people would turn such tools of death on themselves?

C- Candles, beeswax, 50 count, the label said. So why was the box so heavy?

D- “Don’t move!” I stopped when I heard those words. Fearfully, I looked down at feet. One of them was right on top of a rune trap that was concealed in the leaf litter.

E- Everywhere was the sickly sweet smell of death.

F- Faith shall ne’re forsake me, when iron proves as feeble as flesh.

G- “Goblins can’t resist shiny stuff, you said!”

“Well if you weren’t a cheapskate and put some of your jewelry in the trap, we would have caught him!”

H- “Hake, extra crispy. Chips with salt and vinegar, extra curry sauce on the side. What does it all mean?”

“I believe that is his Friday takeaway order.”

I- Inside was totally different. Whereas the exterior was a grey and austere cube, the interior of the building was bright and decorated to the point of being gaudy and over the top.

J- Just lost contact with the rearguard. Radar has picked something up. It’s—[remainder of transmission incomprehensible] /end recording.

K- Kelp! If I could just make it…

L- “Ladies and gentlemen, remain cool, this is a robbery! Handover all of your valuables and no one—hey! You with the Nickleback shirt! That is not cool!”

M- “Must I remind you that it was your idea to drill holes in the bottom of the ship?”

N- “No man is more accursed than he who violates the sacred law of hospitality.”

O- “Open the door!”

“No.”

P- “Purple was never my color anyways.”

Q- Quiet. No wind, no sound of birds. Nothing.

R- Rust covered the steel beams and rebar sticking out of the cracking and failing concrete.

S- “Single malt, aged twelve years, heavy smoke with hints of seaweed. This was distilled in Islay.”

T- The order came up. Three shots espresso, ten ounces 2% steamed for exactly eighteen seconds, one pump vanilla, three caramel, one chocolate hazelnut, and the foam has to be cold and not mix with the coffee. WTF!?? I wanted to quit them and now.

U- Union pamphlets were everywhere. No doubt about it. Their meeting place had been found.

V- “Velocity is still over 5000 kph! We’ll burn up in the atmosphere unless we find some way of slowing down!”

W- “We’re with Witness Protection. You are in grave danger.”

“Me? I’m just an ordinary person!”

X- “X-rays can’t go through lead!”

Y- “You had to say something, didn’t you?!”

Z- Zzzzzzzzzzz.

“How can anyone sleep so soundly in a time like this??”

Whew! Made it through that one!

Tagging @diabolical-blue @darkandstormydolls @leahnardo-da-veggie @poethill @honeybewrites

@theeccentricraven @splashinkling @smudged-red-ink @mysticstarlightduck @eccaiia

@corinneglass @tildeathiwillwrite @fortunatetragedy and open tag

[bluujae]

Ｍarauders Era, baby

Strap in, I tried to keep it to the need to know basis only, but there's still a lot bc I like to ramble

Meet the family, House Malyx

House Malyx is a house that brings dread.

“Oderint dum metuant.”— Let them hate, so long as they fear. The family motto.

To carry the Malyx name was to “bear a weight greater than God and gold”, if one believed in such things. They're dark artists. Their blood entered this world with the bearings of Hell, natural born sorcerers. A gift and an eventual curse. Due to their mixed blood, Malyx have a tendency to live longer than most, although death finds them as easily as anyone else in the end— And when it does, their flesh gives way to dreadful revisions of what once was. They become secrets to be kept behind the locked and charmed doors of their estate, buried deep under the floorboards.

The current state of the house holds ten members, including two wives who married in and two brothers who were brought from a separate arrangement. At the head of House stands Amaris Malyx, hailing at 142 years old but only looks about 65 at most. Her only husband passed when she hit 100. Between them, they had one sole son. Vesemir Malyx, who hails at 120 years old though only looks to be in his 60’s and married to his wife Wilhelmina, with 3 children. Two boys, one girl. The oldest was Ciro, who has yet to marry and shows no signs of attempting any time soon. Nyathera the middle child has proven, thus far, to be too wild for any true suitor but she has countless admirers. Then the youngest, Ambrose is the only child who’s married. Having settled down with the previously divorced Irina, who brought two sons with her; Morvan and Dimitri. Eventually conceiving a young son with Irina, now the youngest heir— the pride and joy of the house. That’s me :)

My father, uncle, and aunt are all at varying ages in their late 40’s early 50’s. Within the next decade and some change, their physical appearances will slow in aging.

Back in America, Vesemir had been a Wampus and Wilhelmina a Horned Serpent. Ciro and Ambrose had both been Thunderbirds, while their sister Nyathera had been a Wampus like their father.

In Britain, Irina had been a Gryffindor while her two boys had been sorted into Slytherin. Then I, while in America had been a Horned Serpent. When transferred to Hogwarts I’d been sorted into Hufflepuff— much to the amusement of both brothers.

-

House Malyx moved from America, where they truly come from is unknown.

Ambrose Malyx’s reputation came from how quickly he scaled the ladder of the MACUSA, becoming one of their best aurors, specializing in hunting down Sieges and dark wizards. The fact remained, Ambrose took after his now retired father and brother. He was and is one hell of an auror.

Earning enough of a reputation that he was headhunted for a position under M.O.M. He agreed to be a temporary fill in overseas for some time, where he met Irina. When it was time to go back he brought her with him. The two proceeded to be married and for the first 13 years of my life I was raised in America. When my mother grew homesick, my father packed us up without a second thought and moved the whole family to Britain— well known by that point for giving in to his wife’s every whim. Thus, I transferred during my 3rd year. In the meantime, my father clawed his way up and became Head Auror.

We’re picking this bad boy up at the beginning of 6th year.

The only real last thing to note is that House Malyx’s ‘psuedo-immortality’ isn’t, or wasn’t, really a known subject outside of America. However, there was a collision of two revered families when they briefly came into contact with House Black. At the time, Amaris was 120 meeting a 23 year old Orion Black. You can imagine the horror and fear when she turns back up 22 years later looking no different and with three generations under her.

And if anyone is wondering who the S.P is in this skit— There’s three iterations of this, so depending on which one I’m currently running it’s either:

James Potter

Sirius Black

Regulus Black

[mariacallous]

More than two-thirds of the Russian tanks that Ukraine’s military has destroyed in recent months have been taken out using first-person-view (FPV) drones, a NATO official told Foreign Policy, an increasing sign of Kyiv’s reliance on the unpiloted aircraft as it awaits more artillery ammunition from the United States and other Western countries. 

With much-needed funding and artillery rounds held up in Washington, the Ukrainian military has largely turned to FPV drones to carry out anti-tank attacks. Ukrainian troops operate the drones via a controller and are able to watch the machines’ “suicide” attacks on Russian vehicles through video feeds, which now play on a loop on Ukrainian social media channels on Telegram and other platforms.

In the third year of Russia’s full-scale invasion, FPV drones have become nearly ubiquitous on the Ukrainian battlefield. Many of them can carry 10 pounds of explosives or more, and after nearly 780 days of nonstop war, drone pilots on both sides have gotten plenty of practice. 

“I used to shoot such ‘cinematic’ videos with the help of FPV-drones before the war,” Ukrainian documentary filmmaker Anton Ptushkin posted on X (formerly Twitter) last November. “Now we use FPV to defend our land.” 

But for every success, there are nearly as many blooper reel-worthy incidents. These aren’t the $20 million-a-piece Predator drones that the United States uses to hunt terrorist targets in the Middle East. These are inexpensive off-the-shelf drones that go for $400. They have cheap cameras, making them more difficult to aim at night or in cloudy weather, and they often carry improvised munitions such as grenades or homebuilt bombs, which sometimes detonate midflight. Some are duds. In one video shared on Telegram, a Ukrainian FPV drone gets stuck in the front window of a Russian minivan and doesn’t explode. Others hit Russian quadcopters and tanks that have already been abandoned. “What we’re seeing probably is a fraction of what’s actually happening,” said Samuel Bendett, an advisor at CNA and a member of the think tank’s Russia studies program. “FPV drones have a short range. So even if the Ukrainians lack enough long-range artillery, they can only use a few drones up to 10 kilometers [about 6 miles] because that’s the normal range.”

Analysts tracking the Ukrainian military believe the attacks are having mixed results. Rob Lee, a senior fellow in the Foreign Policy Research Institute’s Eurasia program who last traveled to Ukraine to embed last November, said the overall accuracy of FPV drones is less than 50 percent. It’s an experienced pilot who is going to score a “kill” of a tank—and the soldiers inside—with an FPV drone, not a newbie.

Even those drones that get through Russia’s increasingly sophisticated, if unchic, countermeasures—boxes of signals equipment strapped to tanks—might not deal a fatal blow. “You usually don’t kill a tank the first few times,” Lee said. “It can take 10 or more [FPV drones] to kill a tank.” 

Still, Russia has a good reason to cover up its tanks with camouflage and jamming equipment, Lee said. It is running low on armored vehicles and tanks. If Ukraine keeps attriting at this rate and Russia keeps sending in more tanks to replace the destroyed ones at the rate it has been, the Kremlin could lose its numerical edge in tanks, which could make it more difficult for the Russians to carry out offensive operations in the future. 

But Russia still has more troops. “The issue is that Russia’s getting a lot of manpower,” Lee added.

The all-out use of cheap drones indicates that the Ukrainians are turning to increasingly desperate measures to improvise weapons to fight back the Russian assault, which has moved farther west into the contested areas of Donetsk. Ukraine is using a network of microphones—similar to the one you might find on your iPhone—to sense incoming targets. The microphones are good enough to classify what type of munition is coming in, what direction it’s going, and what trajectory it’s on just by using acoustics. 

And with limited air defense munitions, Ukrainian troops have rigged heavy machines with sensors to shoot down most of the Iranian-made Shahed suicide drones that are overflying their positions. The NATO official, speaking anonymously based on conditions set by the alliance, said Ukraine’s hit rate against Shahed drones with simple machine guns and small caliber weapons is about 80 percent. It’s not a complete fix, though: Ukrainian officials have spent recent days urging the United States to send more Patriot air defense systems. 

And the FPV drones are not a match for artillery ammunition when it comes to keeping up a high rate of fire or for creating explosive effects. They can also be more expensive. “You cannot replace a 155 [mm] shell,” one Ukrainian official said. “It’s like replacing a Kalashnikov with a small gun.” And artillery is immune to electronic warfare. It’s just a bombshell that’s flying through the air. 

The rapid pace of innovation for drones has made U.S. military leaders second-guess big, expensive drone programs. The future, officials think, will be cheap and attritable. 

“I don’t think we could buy a drone and say it’s going to be in our formation for the next 20 years,” U.S. Army Chief of Staff Gen. Randy George said. “We can’t do that.”

It’s not clear how effective they will be in the long term. But like improvised explosive devices in the Iraq War, cheap drones have revolutionized the battlefield—for now.

“It’s possible that any vehicle, any system, any soldier that moves on the Ukrainian battlefield right now can be seen, observed, and ultimately hit with a [unmanned aerial vehicle],” said Bendett, the CNA advisor. “There’s no such thing as just moving around uncontested anymore.”

[depressedhouseplant]

🔞 In Darkness I Found You 🔞

Chapter 19

Tags: None!

A/N: This is it! The grand finale! Until I post bonus content that is

“I think you’re more anxious than me,” Jungkook looked over at Hobi. They were making their first official visit to a surrogacy center since both of them became certified.

“I keep going to the worst case scenario,” Hobi told him.

“Then let me do the talking,” Jungkook said. Hobi took a deep breath.

“Good idea,” he replied.

“Of course it is,” Jungkook laughed. The waiting room was clean and well lit. It was above ground with windows that let in plenty of light. That was the first positive Hobi saw. A petite Beta woman approached them.

“Good morning, gentleman. I’m Sana and I’ll be showing you around today. For legal purposes I have to confirm that you’re both Registered Inspectors,” she said. Hobi and Jungkook handed over their credentials. She checked something off on the tablet she was holding then returned them.

“If you’d follow me,” she said. They got up and trailed behind her.

“We’re the newest center in the system. There’s been a much higher demand for suburban and rural centers lately. Most of the Omegas are unhoused though a few do have their own residences. All of them are allowed to come and go as they please as long as they’re on time for their appointments. If they need assistance with travel, we also provide that. Every Omega is given a monthly stipend to cover unexpected expenses and personal purchases. That comes out of the fee we charge for our services. We provide maternity clothing and things like support belts, nursing tops, and any other orthopedic device recommended by the doctors,” she told them as they walked down a hallway. It was lined with doors, some opened and some closed.

“Are these the rooms?” Jungkook asked.

“Yes. All the Omegas are given their own bedroom and bathroom. There are no rules about keeping the doors open or closed. Some of them prefer privacy during later pregnancy,” she replied.

“How do you prevent multiple pregnancies within a few months?” Hobi looked over at Jungkook. This was where he knew better than any of them.

“Once an Omega gives birth, they’re given heat blockers for a full year from the date of the birth. After that, they can either place themselves on a reserve list or full availability,” Sana replied. “After 3 years, they’re asked to be put for full availability. We’ve found through research that heat blockers lose their potency by 75% at or after 3 years.”

“And what about Omegas with miscarriage issues?” this answer hinged on whether or not Jungkook would sign off on this facility.

“If an Omega miscarries twice then we do a full examination to determine the cause. If no physical cause can be determined then they’re given a hormone treatment to help them carry to term,” she replied. Jungkook nodded.

“The paperwork says this is a mixed facility?” Hobi finally spoke up.

“Yes, we have a 50 / 50 distribution of male and female Omegas. Medically there’s no difference, however some couples are more comfortable with a specific super-gender,” she explained.

“And you said no Alphas are allowed unless they’re picking up a pup or a medical professional?” Hobi continued.

“Correct. We also have a separate scent controlled area for the Alphas to give their samples for insemination. The Omegas have their implantation done at an approved hospital with a Registered Inspector present,” Sana had led them down to an area that required keycard access. Hobi and Jungkook looked at each other.

“This is our birthing area. We keep it controlled for the privacy and safety of the Omegas either scheduled for a c-section or in labor,” she smiled.

“What’s that?” Hobi asked. Sana looked over at the large tubs against one of the walls.

“Those are the birthing tubs. Some Omegas prefer to give birth in water. It’s best for ones carrying a litter,” she explained.

“I want one,” Jungkook chuckled.

“We’ve got a pool,” Hobi replied. Jungkook rolled his eyes. Sana led them around the rest of the building, the outdoor area, and exercise area.

“We offer prenatal exercise classes if the doctors have cleared them for activity,” she said as Hobi and Jungkook marveled at the fully equipped gym. Sana led them back to the lobby.

“Do you have any questions? I can always forward any issues to the director of this area,” she said. Hobi looked at Jungkook.

“I believe you’ve covered it all,” Jungkook replied. “I’m comfortable signing off if my colleague is.” Hobi nodded his agreement.

“Excellent! If you think of anything, don’t hesitate to contact us. Will we be seeing you next month?” she handed them the tablet to sign off.

“And every month after unless one of us is reassigned. Though I’ll be on maternity leave starting in June,” Jungkook said.

“Congratulations and if you need information on a birthing tub please let me know,” she smiled. Jungkook chuckled and Hobi gave him a dirty look.

“I will,” he smiled.

“So, how did it go?” Yoongi asked when Hobi got home.

“Jungkook signed off on it and I know he was in the same place you were so I’m fine with it,” Hobi replied.

“I told you that you could trust his opinion for both of us,” Yoongi poked him in the side.

“I feel like this is what your lives were supposed to be,” Hobi settled down on the bed next to Yoongi.

“Well if you’re happy with it, I was thinking we could have a surrogate,” Yoongi replied.

“But wouldn’t that only be my DNA?” Hobi asked.

“No, you fool. A surrogate only carries the pup of the parents. I’d have an egg retrieval and you’d donate your sperm. Then the embryo is implanted into the surrogate. Did you sleep through that part of the training?” Yoongi asked.

“I thought they were carrying their own pups!” Hobi replied. Yoongi did a literal facepalm.

“I think you might actually be stupid,” the Omega replied.

“Excuse you,” Hobi pouted.

“Anyway, if you’re amenable to the idea I thought once Jina is a little older we could use a surrogate,” Yoongi said.

“I’m open,” Hobi replied.

“Good,” Yoongi kissed him.

Two and a half years later, Hobi and Yoongi brought home another healthy baby girl. Jina and Sangyeon, Tae and Jungkook’s son, were thrilled to have a baby in the house.

“Are you happy?” Hobi asked late one night when they were up with Hyerin.

“Stupid happy,” Yoongi kissed him.

“Me too,” Hobi agreed.

“I love you, Jung Hoseok,”

“I love you too, Min Yoongi,”

[bratshaws]

through the hourglass 74. brb x oc

a/n: me @ me: stop creating more characters for this fic, you dumbass.

pairing: plus size!oc x rooster

warnings: fluff, IM SORRY IM JUST HAPPY OK

goodness gracious (pls read this one to know more what this fic is about!!)

chapter

1/2/3/4/5/6/7/8/9/10/11/12/13/14/15/16/17/18/19/20/21/22/23/24/

25/26/27/28/29/30/31/32/33/34/35/36/37/38/39/40/41/42/43/44

45/46/47/48/49/50/51/52/53/54/55/56/57/58/59/60/61/62/63/64

/65/66/67/68/69/70/71/72/73

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-

“And we’re home!” Rooster’s usually deep voice came out higher as he opened the passenger door to pick up Nikki, “Home,we’re home! Isn’t that fun?” Nicole wriggles her legs when he picks her up, kissing her cheek and closing the door with his hip.

The dogs were already alert by their presence, Eleanor’s deep bark being the loudest of the three followed by Jolene’s claws scratching on the door so they’d come in quickly, “We are all going out tonight, honey, isn’t that fun?” Rooster unlocks the garage door and the dogs go wild. Eleanor and Jack have the zoomies while Jolene sits patiently next to Rooster with her tail wagging on the tiled floor, “Hey,Jojo. Is Bea home?”

The pittie licks his hand after he pets her, then trots away to the hallway where she lies down, “Ah,not yet huh? That’s fine.” he places the baby bag on the kitchen counter, moving Nicole to his opposite arm, “She’ll be home soon.”

“Aa!” 

“Yes,Birdie,mommy will be home soon.”

Nicole smacks her lips a few times, giggling when she sees Eleanor and Jack still zooming around the house, just a blur of white and brown running from one side to the other - Eleanor sometimes slamming onto something along the way as she usually did. Rooster smiled down at his daughter, fixing some of the strands that covered her forehead, “You know, maybe it’s better if we give you a bath, huh? Get all cleaned up when mommy gets here?”

She ‘aa’ed again, pressing her open mouth on his chin to ‘kiss’ him again, which makes him laugh softly, “Okay,silly girl, you wanna wait for mommy?” another kiss on his cheek followed by Nicole looking towards the front door, “Okay, let’s stay in the living room then.”

Today was…pretty nice, he had to admit.

It’s been some time since he spent time with Mav and now he had Nicole to add to the mix! There was nothing better than spending time with family…and Mav was his family. As he sits down on the couch, he leans back against it to keep his eyes on Nicole as she babbles happily, tapping her tiny hands on the seat and staring at it after the dull thud reached her ears.

So she did it again, slapping her palms against the top of the couch and gurgling a laugh because she was making noise. Bradley just smiled, tilting his head to have a better look as she had her fun…she was so big already. She was still four months old but he remembered how Claudia said that Nicole was ‘stretched up’ already for her age, she said that some of the boys were the same and he also recalled his own baby pictures.

“You are going to be kinda tall,huh?” he smiles, watching the pigtails bounce as she continues her rhythm creation, “...just don’t grow up too fast, okay?”

He was excited to see what his daughter was going to look like when older, that was something every parent goes through…but he didn’t want to miss her younger years either. There was always something he wanted her to experience, he wanted her to enjoy her young life the best she could and maybe that was why they were going out tonight.

While feeding Nicole back at Mav’s he was hit with a thought that this was special…and unique, this was an experience that was going to mold Nicole when she’s older. She’d grow with a fuckton of uncles and aunts, cousins, she’d have people to run to when she needs…maybe it was his own trauma speaking, because while he had a wonderful childhood - within his mother’s grasp that is - he missed having more moments with people around them.

His mother’s siblings were…alright, he wasn’t close to them. From what he remembers, his mother rarely spoke about them either and the few times they showed up was for a brief time and never again. They did show up to her funeral but after that they disappeared like dust in the wind. 

Maybe he should’ve reached out then, maybe he should’ve vocalized his feelings more…but he was too angry to.

He tried finding their addresses to invite them for the wedding, but there was no such luck. Hell he couldn’t even find them online. It wasn’t bad, the people he cared about were at the wedding but it was strange not having part of his family there, especially on his mother’s side. His dad was an only child and his paternal grandparents passed away already…he wondered if there was any way to contact them?

Maybe there was one, maybe he should look deeper. Maybe they were just hidden in plain sight…he better talk to Bea about it, because while she knew how much he’d want to, he didn't want to take an emotional jump in trying to talk to them.

Or maybe it was better to likely let them go. They weren’t there for him when he needed, “...I just don't want to get upset about it.” he answers his own upset thoughts, “Not now, not when I have everything I never thought I’d have.” he turns to face Nicole, who was now running her palms back and forth on the couch’s fabric, watching how the tiny furs turned lighter every time she ran her hands over them “You know, your mother is a great listener.”

Nicole looks up at him, still running her hands on the couch, “She doesn’t have to be, but she is. And I appreciate it, but I don’t want to weigh her too much you know?” Nicole just blinked at him, “...or you because you are a four months old baby and certain feelings may cause stress when you are older- right. I better not talk about this then.”

Not to Nicole at least.

“Hey Nikki, look,” changing the subject was a great idea. He holds up his index finger, his daughter’s eyes immediately following it as he moves down until the tip touches the fabric. And he made a circle, the movement causing the furs to move and create a lighter shape on the couch.

Nicole gasped, slapping her hand on top of it and sliding down, blinking when there was only one broad line of pressed down furs instead of her father’s drawing on top, “Aah!” a few more slaps but the circle is gone, her little brows furrowed and she looked up at Rooster.

He grabs her much smaller hand, it almost disappears under his own, and holds her index finger up. He’s more delicate when touching the fabric because Nicole’s skin wasn’t like his, but he added enough pressure to draw something on the couch.

Now, he wasn’t Beatrice. He was shit at art, always was, but he could draw simple shapes and maybe a smiley face if he was lucky. And he could draw hearts, which was what he did just now, “This is a heart Nikki.” his daughter just kept looking at the new shape, amazement all over her face “See?” and he rubs her finger over the line as well, “A heart.”

He didn’t know why but this was weirdly entertaining, it was a lot better than to think about the relatives he hadn’t seen in years and yet wondered how they were. As he let Nicole’s hand go, he was happy to see that she tried to mimic his own movements, albeit not exactly but very close.

“Very good,Birdie.” he coos, making Nicole smile and drop the other hand to mirror its twin the best way it could, “Hmhm, very nice. You are a natural.” more tapping on the fabric, more quick movements of her hand that just added more lines to the drawing.

Rooster, however, looked up when he heard the garage door opening. Jolene immediately rose to her paws and ‘boofed’,tail wagging with her pups right behind her. “Look,Nikki. Mama is home!” and Nicole immediately stopped drawing, turning her head to the door Beatrice walked through every time she got home from work with her little fists shaking with excitement.

He hears the lock turn and Beatrice’s face peeks from behind the door, “Hi guys! Hi! Oh, God,Ellie!” she tries to push Eleanor back a bit so she could walk inside, laughing while avoiding a mean fall because she tripped on the dogs. She leans down to greet them, kissing their snouts and heads. Rooster just smiles, hearing her baby talking and footsteps approaching the living room, Nicole letting out little noises of excitement, “I think I hear someone!”

“She’s very excited to see you!”

The faucet opens as Bea washes her hands, “Only her?”

“I mean…when aren’t I excited to see you?” he quips back, smirking when he was met with silence. He was sure her face was bright red, “We are just chilling on the couch.”

“I’m on my way.” the faucet shuts off, followed by the dogs nails clicking on the floorboards and walking out of the kitchen past the couch, the twins about to have the zoomies again as soon as Beatrice stepped in.

Nicole squealed happily, bouncing a bit on the couch and in her excitement, she lost her balance and almost toppled forward onto the futon only for Rooster to quickly hold her up, “Nikki! God, are you okay,Birdie?” but his daughter just giggled, lifting her head to keep her mother within her vision, “Dumb question,huh? Course you are.”

“Hi sweetie!” Beatrice’s high pitched tone greeted their ears, the brunette made grabby hands towards Nicole then picked her up from Rooster’s hands, the little girl was still giggling and gurgling happily, her arms hugging her mother’s neck the best she could “Oh my God, hi sweetie!” Nicole squeals again when Beatrice kisses her cheek, burying her nose in her daughter’s hair, “God,I love the way baby shampoo smells.”

“I know right?” Rooster spreads his legs a bit, to get comfortable, “It’s great.”

Nicole babbles a bit more, holding onto the necklace that Rooster gave Beatrice, lifting the pendant close to her eyes just to see it shine a bit more under the light, “Everything okay?” Bea asked and Rooster has to hold back the amused chuckle, because of course she’d know if something was off with him from the second she walked in. He leans further into the couch, then pats his thighs so Beatrice could sit down.

She does, all the while still keeping Nicole in her grasp, the baby kept on babbling but dropped the necklace to hold onto her father’s shirt instead, “Just thinking about some things.”

“Such as?”

Rooster purses his lips, rubbing his knuckle on the edge of Nicole’s chubby cheeks, “...my aunt. My uncle.” he mutters, “My mother’s siblings.”

“What about them?”

“...I don’t know, I had a moment a few minutes back…thinking about all the things they ended up no doing for me.” he mutters, “I guess I’m a bit conflicted, because I’d want Nikki to have a connection with my mom’s family, she already has one with my dad because of Mav…so,I don’t know.”

Beatrice hums, gently shaking Nicole’s hand as her daughter latches her fingers around her own, “It’s not wrong to want that.” she smiles, “Because I’m sure your mother would be happy to see it too…but–”

‘I couldn’t even find them for our wedding.”

“Well,yeah…”

He sighs, frowning a bit, “I don’t know why I’m thinking about this now. I have my family in the Navy, those jerks are my family even if I shook them off,you know?”

“I know,honey.” Bea’s smile softens, “We can look for them, if you want?”

Bradley rolls his lips into his mouth, huffing quietly through his nose as he sinks into the couch bringing Beatrice and Nicole with him, “I dunno.” he mutters, “It’s…complicated I guess. They could’ve found me if they wanted too.”

“Well,yes.”

“...I don’t know,I really need to think about it. I really need to think about it.”

Beatrice furrows her brows, then rubs her thumb between his, “Are you going to be okay?” he nods, feeling the repetitive touch against his forehead, “I know you, Roos.”

“I’ll be fine,gorgeous…I promise…now, let’s get ready for dinner yeah?”

-

Nicole had never seen so many colors in her life, she was just four months old after all. That’s why when they went to the taco truck she just stared up at the bright colors, head tilted and all as she looked at them swinging above her head. Beatrice smiled, leaning against her palm with her eyes focused on Nicole as she pointed upwards to where the lights were, “Yes,Nikki, those are lights, aren’t they pretty?” and they were pumpkin shaped, she had to get some of those for Halloween.

Nicole just waves the chicken, the anguished cries echoing through the night as she shakes it in her grasp, excited to her new surroundings. Beatrice looks up to check on Rooster, seeing he was leaning against the truck with his hip cocked to the side…which made his ass appear even better than normal. She didn’t want to stare, after all this was a public place, but she did sneak a peek.

One that her husband caught by looking over his shoulder at her, his eyebrow arching with amusement as he mouthed a ‘excuse me?’ towards her. Beatrice blushed but shrugged, throwing her hands up in the air as if to say she had no idea what was happening, only for Rooster to playfully roll his eyes and look back to the cook inside.

And soon enough he returned with their food, steaming hot and smelling delicious.

‘Alright.” he places the tacos down, “I got the usual for us and we also got extra salsa because of it.”

“We never deny free salsa, do we?”

“Nope, never.’

Beatrice laughed as she popped her soda open, looking down at Nicole who was staring at the new object with wide eyes, “This is a lot of information for her…I hope it’s not too much.”

“I don’t think so.” he says while pouring the soda inside the plastic cup, “She seems to be having a lot of fun.”

Nicole furrowed her brows because what was that thing they were drinking and could she have some? “No,Nikki, this is for mommy and daddy only.” Bea says when her daughter just reaches for the colorful can, whining a bit but settling down when her mother started caressing her hand.

“So, how was the training today? Any good?”

Beatrice smiled while chewing her taco, “Oh it was great Roos. Jessie is so good! She said she worked as a waitress on a restaurant a few years ago, when she was in high school. She’s really good. Oh, and…” she looks around surreptitiously, “I kinda prodded her about the guy.”

“The guy?”

“The guy.”

Who was worse: a group of middle aged women gossiping about their enemies…or Beatrice and Rooster, who were almost too excited when talking about Jessie and her bar crush, “Yes, �� Beatrice leans closer even if the music playing made it obvious no one would hear them, “So I asked her a little bit, about what he looked like and such, so he’s about Fanboy’s height.” her husband hums, very interested, “About…I don’t know, maybe twenty five, she said and he has short curly hair, tanned complexion.”

Rooster blinked, wracking his brain in hopes to figure out who it was, “...tanned complexion…”

“She said it was like a surfer tan.”

“Oh.Oh, oh I know him. Jared, yeah he’s one of the new recruits.”

“Did you talk to him?”

“Just in passing.” he shrugs, “Nothing serious, just a ‘good morning’ and nothing more…he also calls me sir which is really weird to hear.”

“Well you are a Lieutenant.”

“I mean,yeah.” he shrugs, “But still, there’s just…I don’t know, I never got used to it before, still not used to it now.” Beatrice furrows her brows at him, a bit confused “You know what I mean.”

“Roos, well,I mean, you told me you were an instructor and you are…of higher rank. Why would you feel weird about it? I mean, what if you get promoted? Do you want them to just go ‘hey bro it’s a nice morning at the base,huh’?” Bradley almost chokes on his drink at Beatrice’s attempt of a male voice, it sounded like she had a sore throat and was relying on medicine to get it clean. He snorts against his hand, trying his best to keep his laughter down. 

Beatrice has to do the same, biting her lips to hold her laughter back and distracting herself with Nicole. After almost choking on air and on his spit at least twice, Rooster coughs up laughing quietly, “You- holy shit- that was funny.”

“It wasn’t that funny,was it?”

“Baby you have no idea how hilarious you can be.” and again her cheeks turned red, her lips curling onto a smile, “Also,the honorific thing…it’s okay,I guess it’s just,well…Jared is like twenty one I think…Bea he was born in,what, the 00’s? Or something? Baby I was in high school when he was born.”

Beatrice chuckled as she dabs a napkin over her lips, wiping some of the sauce, “So you are just…hating it because it makes you feel…old?” he frowns, “...you know you look nothing like your age, right.”

“Hrm.”

“And even if you did, you’d still be so handsome.” Rooster smirked, bringing the soda can to his lips with his eyes still on Beatrice, he could live with that. “Besides, you look better than guys half your age, so…”

“Ah, smooth talking like that.” he tuts, “What’s a guy to think?”

Beatrice smiles at him, then reaches to touch his hand on the table, picking it up to run her thumb on the inside of his fingers, “I mean it,though.” she whispers, still touching his palm, “You are incredibly handsome and you still make my knees weak when you smile at me.” he laughs almost bashfully, licking his lips. Bea brings his hand to her lips, kissing his knuckles before setting his hand back down, “I need to go to the bathroom, Roos. I’ll be right back.”

“Hey, leaving be high and dry here?” he complains, pouting his lips a bit, “You can’t do that.”

Beatrice smiles, walking around the table towards him where she cups his face in her hands and brings their lips together in a gentle - yet amazingly sensual - kiss, “I won’t be long.” she whispers against his lips, letting go of his face with a giggle, looking down at Nicole before she turns on her heel and leaves the table.

Rooster follows the sway of her hips with a smile, tilting his head just enough to see the shape of her ass move inside those tight black jeans she favored so much. Nicole’s gentle noises snapped him out of his reverie, his eyes immediately moving to his daughter who was already staring at him, “How’s the night going,Nikki? Hm? Is it fun?”

“Bahbaah,  buuhh!” and a surprise raspberry that neither of them expected considering the way Nicole jumped after she did that.

“Yeah,I’m having fun too, cutie.”

“Aa!”

“Yes,I know, mommy will come back soon.”

“Sir?”

He stops chewing, hoping he’s imagining things and he hasn’t heard the voice of one of the new recruits behind him. He inhales, choosing to believe it was all in his mind, “Sir, is that you? It is him,guys.”

Guys? Oh no.

[not-so-superheroine]

Some Black Community of Christ/RLDS History as I write this Article

Joseph Smith III is so funny because what is this. (probably funny bc i experience racism. none the less it is history)

At General Conference, he’s like. “A colored congregation down the road from here has started meeting nearby. They reached out to us to send a speaker when they realized we’re friendly (not virulently racist, ig)”

and like. good. okay. cool. you are all reorganized saints and should totally do that. it’s their space tho. D&C 116 implicates segregation but ALSO means colored congregations don’t need white oversight. You are in their home. 

the first Brother remembers this.

JS III sends Brother Shippely  over to the Black congregation and they hit it off. According to JS III, a pleasant time for all.

Because of this, one of the founders of the Reorganization (then the New Organization) Brother Zenas H. Gurley, takes it upon himself to go visit and speak to them.

JS III writes that Brother Gurley gave a sermon so “long-winded and pedantic” that it “so disgusted our colored friends that they gave us no further opportunity to address them.”

What did Bro, Gurely say??? I can only think that it was racist. But it also could have been a very bad and very long talk on a topic that had little to do with their lives mixed in with ignorant microaggression (because there had to be racism imo. even if only subconsciously). I really want to know but that is lost to time.

Poor Black congregation of saints in Iowa. I’ve been there and I am sorry because it had to be worse then. and dang, they be in IOWA at that.

Like, what did he do to make the Black people say “forget it” after trying to form a relationship with the white parts of the church. I have had my “dis too much” moments. And this sounds like one of them.

Back to JS III, he is so blasé. Like. “well, it was a commendable effort. this shows positive intentions among the saints (summarized).” 

Mr. Prophet please. I… I can’t take this. So darn familiar to me. The church even says that to marginalized people, this will happen, as others learn and grow. It’s right there in the text of the Enduring Principles. So I got a warning. So I guess I can take it. But I also have a duty to make it better.

I would say, maybe he should have proof-read their work. Extemporaneous speech was more common back then. But the guy JS III sent had his things together. Brother Gurley just went and blew it up on his own, rip.

I wonder if/when they made peace.

Now, I have made similar apologetic responses for JS III and the church like he makes for the church here. Like, not bad for a white man/white church in the 1800s.

But oh my goodness, i swear this happened to me when I went to a more white congregation one sunday. They were trying to talk about racial justice but i was the only person of color around, i swear, and i had nothing to do with the presentation. I will say that they tried real hard.

Or when the white man on the pastoral team preaches. It’s a brace yourself moment. He means well, but God help him and us some sundays please. I couldn’t kick him out but I walked out. (i still love him).

i miss some things about my Black church growing up. But I had other issues there that played a similar role. I am healthier where I am. my congregation is like 50% Black and has been integrated for a while. though not so long ago that i don’t personally know the person who integrated it. i do, we speak and sit in adjacent pews from each other every sunday.

[skhardwarevers1]

anyways we’re all curious about my ideas yeah ? (Please say yes. I really like this one) good because I wrote two large paragraphs about it below this conveniently placed cut…

So there’s this world, similar to ours but not at all. You get it. In this world it’s sort of an endless plain of different lands that exist in different time periods, and it’s been mostly mapped out very well but every once and a while a new society will just pop up out of nowhere and everyone is just okay with that. So there’s time periods in certain areas for like, the 1920s or the 1800s or the 2000s or the 1400s…it’s your pick on where you may wanna head if you don’t like where your parents have birthed you. Lots of people travel across these places, and it’s sprung up a lot of communities that blend the time periods really strangely. Like one could have a mix of a super futuristic society but socially it’s like…the 50s or something. It’s very strange and I don’t know how it works yet, haven’t explored it enough. Anyways, within all these different stagnant time period countries, there is a very cowboy-western based one, in which there is the character I’ve been thinking of so much: Scarecrow

Yeah, I legitimately am just naming him that. I thought of him ages ago while listening to “Your Dead” by Norma Tanega. Part of me thought it would be cool if a scarecrow was a cowboy, or at least living in a stupid movie western based society. I would say spaghetti western but I’m no film major, genre means nothing to me. I create and let y’all choose what it may be. So Scarecrow, who may be a real scarecrow come to life or just earned the name through his quiet and unsettling nature. I don’t know, I feel like I just met the guy. I know he doesn’t speak, for one reason or another. There is a concept I have in mind, but I won’t delve into it unless asked. In short, I love my strange cult-ish societies and the strange cultural norms I can just make up whenever I want. Scarecrow society, hell yeah. Anyways yeah, if anyone wants to hear that concept I’ll write the longest post in history for ya’. So Scarecrow, that’s the guy, I think my most solid piece of plot I have is him getting tangled up in some other idiot’s business because said idiot dragged him into it while trying to escape people he most likely owes money or something. It develops into a sort of “against my will buddy comedy” (again, loose terms here. Genre means nothing to me), where Scarecrow and this guy (I’ve got no names for him yet, if you throw one at me I might use it) are now tangled up in a mess of a lot of things, and eventually become friends on their journey through this strange multi-time period world, possibly even more than friends…you know me. Insert smiley face emoji. Anyways that’s all the ideas I can just spill onto this page for anyone slightly interested. Bye but also not bye, because I am always lurking…always watching…

[wolfprincesszola]

Echoes of 50 Chapter 4

As always, check the TWs and CWs in the masterlist. EEK, Prinxiety AND Logicality in one chapter? An absolute slay. Enjoy <3. ——————– Now Playing: COFFEE SHOP by RC AVENUE

<Masterlist>

<Previous Chapter> <Next Chapter> ——————–

“Come on, L. We’re going to be late!” Virgil groaned as he was jumping up and down anxiously, waiting for Logan to walk through the front door.

“To get some vitamin D?” Logan raised an eyebrow as he walked out of the door with his laptop bag hung on his shoulder. If Virgil was going to be so insistent to drag Logan out to the coffee shop early on a Saturday morning, Logan was going to at least spend the time he sat around researching.

“Exactly!” Virgil spoke up as he grabbed Logan’s wrist tightly, “Now pick up the pace for once in your life.”

“Alright, fine!” Logan sighed as he let Virgil drag him after locking the door to his apartment.

Once they had arrived at the coffee shop, Virgil hesitated.

“Just open the door. It’ll be fine. Calm your heart. It won’t be anything.”

Logan didn’t say anything to Virgil’s thoughts, just waiting for Virgil to overcome his social anxiety and open the door. After a deep breath, Virgil opened the door to pull both him and Logan in. As they came in, Logan was surprised to find a small crowd forming to the side of the front counter, chatting excitedly.

“It’s about to start. I can’t wait.”

“Do you think he’ll dedicate a song to me?”

“Oh, I hope he notices me today.”

“How many more minutes until it starts?”

In the mix of the voices, Logan heard Virgil’s thoughts loud and clear.

“Where is he?”

“Alright, come on. Let a Prince through. There are customers that are waiting for their orders! The show will start in a few minutes.” A familiar voice traveled through the crowd, causing the crowd to open up. There, Roman stood, grinning at everyone before turning to the two best friends. Immediately, the light in his eyes faltered for a second as he stared directly at Virgil.

“Oh god. He’s looking at me.” Virgil’s thoughts panicked.

“Virgil and Logan, huh?” Roman’s thoughts seemed to be more melancholic, as if he wasn’t expecting to see the two of them together. “Never thought they’d be together.”

Oh. Logan understood now.

“Hi, Ro.” Virgil waved to Roman.

“Vir, you came.” Roman finally managed to utter out as he mustered up a bright smile, the light in his eyes flickering the longer he stared at Logan and Virgil. “And what’s this? You’ve brought Logan. You don’t come in on Saturdays usually.”

“Why me? Why am I the unfortunate soul?” Roman’s thoughts spoke almost angrily. Logan wondered what Roman was talking about.

“Hello, Roman.” Logan nodded, “Unfortunately, I was forcefully coerced by Virgil to…remove myself from my apartment and come see what I can assume is a performance you will be doing.”

Roman cleared his throat, nodding, “Oh yes! Every Saturday, I come and perform for the regulars! I never expected you to be interested in it though, Logan.”

“I’m not.” Logan admitted.

“Why him? What does he have that I don’t?” Roman stared at Logan with an unreadable expression as his thoughts screamed.

“Well then, may I get the two of you something to drink before the performance starts? Hopefully, you two can stick around and watch.” Roman remarked as he started to walk behind the counter to grab two cups.

“Shit, shit, shit. He’s looking at me. I have to answer.” Virgil’s thoughts were completely opposite from Roman’s. While Roman’s were more upset, Virgil’s were more excited and panicked.

“That sounds awesome.” Virgil nodded, “Thank you.”

“Of course, Virgil.” Roman’s voice was soft as he began to pull up the menu for the register, “Just the usuals for you two?”

Virgil looked at Logan nervously. Logan could feel Virgil’s hand starting to clam up around Logan’s wrist, so Logan finally stepped in to help Virgil out.

“Yes. A caffè mocha for me and a hazelnut cold brew for Virgil.” Logan spoke.

“He even knows his coffee order. What chance do I even have? Did I even have a chance to begin with? Was I delusional?” Roman’s thoughts spoke in despair.

“That will be $10.37.” Roman spoke up as he began to write the two orders down for the two of them.

Virgil stumbled to grab his card to pay as Roman turned to make the drinks. And for the first time since Logan met Roman Prince, Roman had nothing to say to them. Roman stayed completely silent and fulfilled Logan’s request to not speak to him. And Logan hated every second of it.

It wasn’t like Roman. It wasn’t like Roman to miss up a chance to poke fun at Logan and it wasn’t like Roman to not be cheery upon seeing Logan because it was always that Roman wanted to mess with Logan. They were friends.

Logan hated to admit it, but Roman was no longer just a close acquaintance, but instead an actual friend.

“Just ask him. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe they’re not together. I should just say it. I’ll pretend like I was curious if I’m wrong. I just can’t keep thinking about this for eternity.” Roman’s thoughts obsessed over how to say it so loudly that it was completely overpowering all the other thoughts in the area.

Logan turned to Virgil to see Virgil shifting and playing with the sleeves of his hoodie. He could see Virgil’s flushed cheeks and he could practically hear how loud Virgil’s heart was pounding.

“To get some vitamin D, huh?” Logan raised an eyebrow unamused at Virgil, who broke out of his anxiety-ridden thoughts to glare at Logan.

“Shut up.” Virgil scowled quietly. “Get out of my head and don’t speak too loudly. He might hear you.”

“Oh, no. What a shame.” Logan’s voice dripped with sarcasm as he crossed his arms, grabbing Virgil’s hand from his wrist to put it down.

Before Virgil could retort, Roman turned to the two of them with their two newly-made drinks. The smile that Roman was forcing on was no longer happy, but now melancholic.

“Here you two go. Will you be staying for the performance?”

Logan gave a knowing look to Virgil and spoke for Virgil before the man could froth at the mouth over Roman talking to him. “Yes. We’ll be staying.”

“Great.” Roman nodded. “Excuse me. I’m going to get ready for my performance now that I’ve attended to the two of you.”

“Call out to him, dammit. Stop being such a coward and just tell him good luck. That’s all I can tell him.” Virgil was screaming in his head, trying to protest against his social anxiety, but it seemed no matter what he thought, nothing was changing. So Logan, unfortunately, had to step in once more and pushed Virgil. Physically.

“Logan, I’m going to kill you!”

Virgil yelped, which caused Roman to look back at him and manage to catch Virgil before he fell to the ground.

“Woah there, Marilyn Morose, you alright?”

“Uh, thank you.” Virgil cleared his throat as Roman helped Virgil back up. “Good luck out there.”

Roman’s eyes brightened at the words Virgil spoke and his smile widened, “Thank you. I hope you and your boyfriend enjoy the show.”

“Oh, uh…no, boyfriend?” Virgil cocked his head to the side in confusion towards Roman, “I don’t have a boyfriend.” Roman’s eyes widened as he looked from Virgil towards Logan back to Virgil back to Logan. “Oh, sorry, did I misread the situation? It’s just that you were holding his hand when you came in and-” “Oh jeez, no.” Virgil groaned, “Logan’s my best friend. He was refusing to come, so I had to drag him in. I’m sorry for giving you that impression and-”

“Oh thank the Broadway! My love story with Virgil is not quite lost yet.”

Finally. Logan hated being the wingman and he hated misunderstandings.

“Oh shit. Is that why Roman was acting so weird to us? Fuck, it was all my fault. Why did I have to pull Logan here?”

“Oh, no, it’s fine.” Roman let out an embarrassed laugh, “I was just surprised at first. Nothing else.”

“Nothing else?” Virgil raised an eyebrow, his face stricken with worry that Roman hated him.

“Nothing else.” Roman reassured Virgil, “I’ll be going back now. I hope you and Logan enjoy the show.”

“Thank you. You too!” Virgil smiled before turning to a reading Logan with an embarrassed face.

“You too? That was all I had to say? Fuck!”

“Can you quiet down? I have research to read before the show.” Logan remarked as he could see Virgil’s face shifting with multiple stages of embarrassment.

“You knew, didn’t you?” Virgil glared, “You knew Roman misunderstood the situation and you didn’t bother to clear it up?”

“If you’re ever thinking about being in a relationship with him, you need to learn how to assert yourself and speak to him without a middle man. Besides, you always complain I don’t have a sense of humor. I thought this was pretty humorous if you ask me.”

“You didn’t smile or laugh once.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know that was a requirement to think things are funny.” Logan rolled his eyes, “Last time I checked, you constantly thought things were funny without smiling or laughing. Hypocrite.”

The show began before Virgil could give his retort back and the two turned towards the person who had come into the middle of the crowd. The crowd had formed a semi-circle around what seemed to be a makeshift stage in the coffee shop.

“Bitch.” Virgil thought to get the last word. Logan just rolled his eyes at Virgil’s pettiness.

Roman smiled, “Thank you. Thank you. Today, I will be performing a couple of theater songs from The Greatest Showman. My friend, Patton, will be singing any duets with me. If you want any drinks throughout, Patton will also take your orders.” Patton walked through the crowd, shyly smiling around with a bright smile. Logan’s heart stopped at the sight of Patton. Just as the first time he saw Patton, Patton looked just as beautiful. He looked happier even. Logan blinked, trying to pry his eyes from the man, but found himself unable to. Patton, unlike before, was wearing a light blue t-shirt with no cardigan against his back. The same light blue as the polo he first saw Patton in. That must be Patton’s signature color because he seemed to love that color. It fit him, that was for sure.

A smug voice interrupted his entrancement.

“Who’s the hypocrite now, L?”

“Still you.” Logan whispered to Virgil as he continued to stare at Patton. There was something entrancing about the way that Patton was dancing around on stage with Roman. The two sang A Million Dreams and Rewrite the Stars together before Roman began to sing more solo songs like Tightrope and This is Me. Around the time of Roman’s solo singing, Patton had gone to take the orders of some customers that had entered the coffee shop. While Virgil was busy watching Roman sing, Logan observed Patton interacting with the different customers. Patton intrigued him. Despite the thousands of thoughts Logan could hear warping through his head, Logan couldn’t hear a single one that came from Patton.

Patton, himself, was intriguing. He always smiled and he seemed to enjoy social interaction with many of the other customers, but he wasn’t skilled the way Roman was. Roman took pride in the singing and the coffee he made. Patton, on the other hand, was clumsy. He fumbled with certain tools. He tripped with his feet. His singing was just as good at Roman, but his confidence was misplaced, letting Roman’s voice overpower his instead of keeping the same volume as Roman’s. Even when Roman tried to soften his voice to make way for Patton to have the spotlight, Patton’s voice was shaky, almost as if he was second-guessing the words he was singing. Patton wasn’t skilled in coffee by any means necessary, but the thing about Patton was that he continued to try. No matter how much struggle he got into, Patton kept trying. He would make a stupid coffee pun and waive off any concerns. That was certainly admirable.

As soon as Patton finished the last customer who had come in, Roman had called Patton.

“Patton! You know piano, right?” Roman asked excitingly.

Patton turned towards Roman, leaving his back facing towards the audience. “Well, sort of. I’m not the best at it, so I might mess up.”

There was something on Patton’s middle trapezius. Something that Logan could barely discern was a tattoo of some kind. It was barely visible with his t-shirt covering half of it, but Logan could see the top part. It seemed to be a long tattoo that panned the entirety of Patton’s t-shirt.

“Oh, nonsense, Padre. Come on up here. Everybody, give a round of applause to my friend Patton.”

Patton gave a smile as he walked on stage towards his friend. He turned towards the audience, leaving Logan unable to read what the tattoo was. Dammit, Patton. Logan knew how entrancing looking at Patton’s face was, but all Logan wanted in that moment was to see what had been written on Patton’s neck. Everyone began to applaud and Logan followed after, keeping his eyes trained on the man.

“Thank you?” Patton waved towards the audience before walking up onto the stage, “What song are we doing?”

“Never Enough!” Roman grinned.

“Ooo, I love that song! And lucky for you, I can definitely Handel that song.” Patton grinned and looked around the room for anyone that got the pun. There were a few laughs, but Logan couldn’t help the way he groaned at the joke.

“For those that got that joke, you must be pretty sharp.”

Another groan escaped from Logan.

“Alright, alright, I’ll stop. I’ll count you off, Roman?”

“You got it, Pat!” Roman grinned as he patted Patton’s back. Patton began to head down from the makeshift stage to go to the nearby keyboard that Roman had. Logan stared as Patton turned, quickly noting down what was on the tattoo. Roman’s pat on the back had allowed for the entire tattoo to be visible for just a second that Logan could read it.

50 61 74 74 6F 6E. There were spaces for every two characters. Six “words” overall. Where was that familiar? “Hey…what was on Patton’s neck?” Virgil whispered, turning towards Logan.

“Fifty, sixty-one-” Logan began before Virgil widened his eyes and Logan cut himself off to ask, “What?” “Patient 50.”

Logan’s eyes widened at the thought as he went to roll up his sleeve, analyzing his handwriting on his arm he had done the previous night.

Five. Zero. Fifty. Six. One. Sixty-one. Seven. Four. Seventy-four. Seven. Four. Seventy-four. Six. F. Six and an F. Six. E. Six and an E. Patient 50 61 74 74 6F 6E.

“There’s no way. Is there?” Virgil asked.

“I don’t know.” Logan admitted as he rolled his sleeve back down and grabbed the manila folder from his laptop bag. There had to be some correlation between Patton and Patient 50, at the very least.

Six groups of two characters. There were six letters in Patton. Logan could rule out each group of characters corresponding to a letter of the Phonecian alphabet, considering that there were letters and numbers more than 26.

Something about the arrangement of characters seemed familiar.

For someone who claimed he was so smart, Logan sure as hell was drawing a blank as to what correlation Patton and six groups could mean. It could be the letters of his name, but it didn’t make sense unless it was in a code.

Logan was a part of a tech company. Logan went to CalTech. He graduated a year early with his bachelors. He got his masters degree. He should be able to figure it out.

Should being the key word.

Before long, Roman had finished singing and the crowd erupted into applause. Logan jumped out of his thoughts to give applause to the two performers before turning to Virgil.

“May we go now?” Logan raised an eyebrow, “I have work to do and I’ve spent enough time not researching.” “Hold on. It’d be rude to leave without talking to Roman and Patton first.” Virgil stared at Logan’s cup, still untouched, “Besides, you didn’t finish your drink.”

Logan sighed as he stayed where he was, sipping his drink as he waited for the crowd to clear out. It took ten minutes before the crowd had finally dispersed, Roman and Patton turning their attention towards Logan and Virgil.

“My chemically imbalanced romance! How did you think my performance was?” Roman grinned, turning to Virgil.

“It was good.” Virgil nodded, his confidence to stay to congratulate Roman now disappearing the more he stood there in front of Roman. Logan could hear the exchanging thoughts that ran through each of their minds, trying to displace whether or not the next thing someone said would be the thing that got them to confess.

Instead, Logan moved off to the side to talk to Patton. Having put away the manila folder just moments before and set his laptop bag down on the table he was at, he spoke to Patton, “Congratulations, Patton, on your performance.”

“Oh, thank you.” Patton smiled, his eyes lighting up as he turned his full attention to Logan, instead of the conversation of the two men acting like high schoolers with a giddy crush. “I didn’t think that this would be your type of scene.”

“It isn’t. Virgil unfortunately brought me here.” Logan sighed. “I didn’t take you as the type to know piano.”

“Yeah.” Patton chuckled awkwardly, not sure what to really say, “I learned when I was really young. I learned a lot of things when I was young, but there weren’t that many good memories associated with them.”

“I see.” Logan nodded.

The more Logan talked to Patton, the more Logan was curious about the man Patton was. He wanted to pick apart Patton’s brain, especially since Logan hadn’t heard a single thought come out of Patton. He wanted to read the stories Patton had been a part of and he wanted to see the way Patton wrote the new ones he would be a part of. Logan craved the knowledge of who Patton was in the most surface level and in the deeper levels. He wanted to know Patton’s favorites and the little habits Patton did, but he also wanted to know Patton’s deepest darkest secret and the feelings Patton had when he was awake at 3 in the morning. He wanted to know the hopes, fears, childhood experiences, and goals that Patton had. He wanted to know how Patton was when the rest of the world was asleep and what Patton found beautiful in nature. Maybe Patton liked blue and space, just like Logan. Maybe Patton was scared of the dark and of true apathy, just like Logan. Or maybe, Patton preferred black and sunsets; maybe the two could spend hours arguing about which were subjectively and objectively better. Maybe Patton disliked olives, unlike Logan. Maybe Patton would pick off all the olives on combo pizzas and maybe if they knew each other better, Patton would give them to Logan to eat. Maybe, just maybe, Logan and Patton could work out together and Logan could truly get to know Patton in the same way that he knew himself.

“I wanted to say sorry again for spilling that coffee on you the first time we met.”

“Oh, Patton, it’s alright. I already got it back from the dry-cleaners, perfectly cleaned. I’m actually quite happy the way things turned out.” “Oh really? Why?”

“Because I got to meet you.”

Patton smiled, “Wow…that means a lot to me…”

Logan raised an eyebrow at the way Patton trailed off, almost as if he wanted to finish the sentence with a name, but couldn’t come up with it.

“I’m so sorry, affogato your name. Do you mind en-latte-ning me?”

“Two coffee-based puns? You must be really nervous.” Logan smirked.

“Roman told me you’re not someone that is easily pleased. I just feel awful for all the mistakes I’ve made around you.”

“It’s alright, Patton.” Logan chuckled, “I don’t mind. Logan Sanders.”

“Logan. Logan. Logan.” Patton nodded, repeating the name to try and brand it into his brain. “Got it. Thank you, Logan. For everything.” Logan just brushed it off as him being a normal human being doing normal societal things.

“You don’t seem too fond of my puns, Logan. I saw you groaning at the ones I made on stage.”

“I have a general distaste for them, but it does not mean you have to stop making them on my behalf.” Logan adjusted his glasses to try and read Patton’s expression. He didn’t seem too hurt by Logan’s statement and in fact, there seemed to be a mischievous glint that appeared in his smile.

“Oh, Logan. That just means I have to make more of them!” Patton giggled, “That way, you’ll get used to them and then maybe you’ll start making some of them too.”

“Truly a father figure.” Logan sighed before looking over to see that Virgil and Roman were still awkwardly talking to each other, trying to gain more hints from what the other could want. It looked like he was stuck conversing with Patton until it was over, not that Logan minded. “Do you normally wear this shade of blue? You were wearing the same color when I last saw you.”

“Oh, yes! Light blue is my favorite color. My cardigan got dirty yesterday though, so I couldn’t wear it and I just ran out of polo shirts, but what you saw me in that Thursday is what I usually am wearing!” Patton grinned. “Are you usually wearing formal clothing like this every day?”

“Yes. It’s clean-cut, precise, and serious.”

“Do you change the color of the ties you wear?”

“I like dark blue. It’s my favorite color.”

“We’re so similar! We have the same glasses and we like the same color!”

“That is true.” Logan nodded.

“You must be very smart with how hard you work. I mean, your laptop bag and the way you talk must hold some meaning. Your work must be happy to have someone like you helping them with your knowledge.”

“That’s very kind of you.” Logan adjusted his glasses, letting his arm cover his cheeks’ slight tint. That type of complement meant a lot more from Patton than anyone else he had talked to. For some reason. “I work at a tech company. I’m sure I am a valuable asset to the team, as I am the head chemical engineer. However, for some odd reason, I mainly work on their software.”

“You know software? Then you must know cool number systems like hexadecimal!”

Hexadecimal? That was a weird thing to bring up upon hearing about tech. Usually, Logan got a simple question like what type of electronic devices he worked with and if it was someone more knowledgeable in the field, they would ask what coding languages Logan used. Never in his life had he been asked about number systems. Although a fairly easy concept to get with practice, it was usually not the first number system that was brought up even when talked about. He was always asked about binary.

“I do. If you’re bringing up hexadecimal, then you must know software as well. After all, number systems is not something a beginner normally learns.”

“Ah, I’m not that good. I don’t know software at all, but I grew up around using different number systems. I think the people that raised me just wanted a way to communicate without me understanding, so they taught me all the ones except hexadecimal. I just recently managed to learn it, although I’m still a bit shaky on it.” Patton scratched the back of his neck, almost subconscious.

Now that Patton had brought it up, it began to click.

50 in hexadecimal was ‘P’. 61 was ‘a’. 74 and 74 were both ‘t’ and ‘t’ respectively. 6F was ‘o’ and 6E was ‘n’.

In regular text, Patient 50 61 74 74 6F 6E had become Patient Patton, shortened from Patient 50 to Patient P.

Whoever Patton was, he was the final piece of the puzzle that Logan was missing in solving what the government had planned. Logan didn’t know what to do with that information.

“That’s great, Patton.” Logan forced a small smile as he turned towards Virgil slightly to try to give him a sign that Patton was someone that he needed to learn more about. He just needed to figure out his plan before jumping right into it. Unfortunately for him, Virgil hadn’t seen the signal. Fortunately for him, Virgil and Roman were failing so badly at flirting that both were practically begging in their minds for Logan or Patton to step in.

“Logan, if you’re not too busy flirting with Patton over there, I need you to take the nearest sharp blade there is out there and stab me before I mess things up more with Roman. Or tell Patton to do so.”

“My sweet Patton, I understand that Logan can be so fun to mess with, but please pay attention to how desperately I am trying to talk to Virgil with no luck. He’s just as spooked by my presence as a bunny is to a wolf. I fear I have ruined everything.”

So Logan did exactly that.

“Virgil, you mentioned that you wanted to meet your mother in fifteen minutes. It is imperative that we stay on time to your appointments, so we should really wrap up here.”

“Thank you, Logan. I owe you another jar of Crofter’s.”

Logan was going to make sure Virgil lived up to his promise because nothing mattered to him more than Crofters. Virgil’s eyes lit up at the save as he nodded, “Yes! I have to go see my mother. I’m so sorry that I have to cut this short, Ro. I just-”

“Great save, Logan! You cut off our conversation and Virgil doesn’t hate me just yet because he still calls me a nickname! Thank the dragon witch! I must make you a celebratory coffee as thanks.”

Logan was also going to cash in that favor the next time he saw Roman.

“No, no, I get it. We must make sure to tend to all the women in our life and make sure that our mothers know how appreciative we are of them.” Roman grinned, “I hope you enjoyed today’s performance.”

“You were great, Sir Sing-a-Lot.”

“You should maybe think about coming to our next performance.”

“Definitely.” Virgil nodded as he turned to Logan, “You ready?” Logan nodded, “Thank you for the show today, Roman and Patton. I will see you back on Monday.”

“No, thank you, Logan.” Patton gave a small smile, “It was nice talking to you.”

Logan nodded as he began to follow Virgil out of the coffee shop. Once they were fully outside, Virgil turned to Logan, sucking his teeth in with a wince. “How bad was that?”

“Awful.” Logan gave his point of view.

“Okay, thanks.” Virgil rolled his eyes, “I mean, could you do any better? You say yourself that emotions are the bane of your existence.”

Logan gave a look, “You think I could do worse than standing there frozen?” Virgil glared at Logan, “Listen, I have anxiety.”

“I know.” Logan sighed, “It’s fine. I figured out Patient 50 is Patton.”

“Really? What are you going to do with that information?”

“I don’t know.”

“Oh wow, the three words Logan hates more than ‘I love you’.” Virgil snorted, “You seriously don’t know?” “Yet.” Logan emphasized.

“You should ask him about more things then. Get to know him as a friend and see if he could open up to you.”

“Like how Roman is attempting with you?” Logan raised an eyebrow, “No thanks, I saw how unsuccessful that attempt was.”

“Okay, yes! I’m awful at socializing and I hate people, but L, Pat seems like a nice guy. He’s served me a couple of times and he’s one of those people that are actually truly kind to me. If he’s the answer to all your problems, then maybe you should talk to him and become friends with him.”

“Wow, Virgil. I didn’t think you would ever support me so openly with my research.”

“I don’t. I’m just tired of this obsession. It’s been more than a year. If you can get closure about this and stop yapping, I will be grateful.” Virgil groaned.

Logan rolled his eyes, “Of course, Virge. The same as always.”

“Hey…where’s your laptop bag?”

“It’s right here…” Logan trailed off as he turned to see that his laptop bag was in fact not on his shoulder like he had originally thought it was.

“Must still be in the coffee shop. Want me to come help you get it?”

“No need. I can go in by myself.” Logan shook his head as he turned to go back into the coffee shop.

“Logan? What brings you back here?” Roman raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t you just leave with Virgil?”

“Virgil is going ahead to meet his mother. I seemed to have misplaced my laptop bag.”

“Logan Sanders? Forgetting something? I never thought I’d see the day.” Roman snorted as he motioned for Logan to look around, “Go ahead and look around for it. I asked Patton to clean up right after you left though, so it might be with him.”

One quick look at the table confirmed that it wasn’t in its place where Logan last set it down.

“It is not there.”

“We can wait for Patton then. He’s on his break right now.” Roman nodded.

“Is Patton employed here?”

“Yeah. I needed the extra help and Patton needed the extra money. It was a win-win.” Roman shrugged, “He’s been an old friend of mine, so I thought I’d help him out.”

“That’s very kind of you.”

“I know.” Roman grinned before turning to Logan with a serious expression, “You never told me you knew Virgil.”

“I didn’t think it was important.”

“I know you can read my thoughts. Why didn’t you correct my thinking when I first assumed you were together?”

“I believe you’ve mistaken me for someone else. Someone who cares.” Logan deadpanned, “What you deal with Virgil is strictly nothing I should be meddling in.”

“Meddle all you want! I want to know if he likes me or if he’s simply too intimidated by me. I’m going insane. I’ve never had to chase after anyone. I just smile and they come flocking towards me, even if I’m not into them. Virgil’s different. He didn’t immediately fall and he knows how to respond back to my quips. But he freezes up when I try to ask him about anything in his life, so I’m not even sure if he sees me as a friend.” Roman sighed.

For bitching’s sake, Logan could meddle so easily, but he also knew that it was not his place. So he had to go for the next best thing. Advice.

“For someone plays on his bravery, you sure are a coward.” Logan commented, “If you’re really that brave, you’d ask him out despite your fear of rejection. After all, the worst he could say is no. You move on and you find someone else that is worth your time and your affection. That’s all you can do.”

Roman raised an eyebrow, surprised, “Where did that come from, Mr. Info Dump? I thought you were a robot.”

“Unfortunately, they were unable to complete the process of turning me fully robotic.” Logan remarked before he saw Patton coming in and went to talk to him.

“Smart ass.”

Logan ignored Roman’s comment, instead turning his attention to Patton, “Hello, Patton.”

“Oh, hi, Logan! Are you here for your laptop bag? I noticed you left it in a hurry to push Virgil out.”

“Yes, I did. Do you think I could retrieve it?”

“Of course. It’s just in the back.” Patton nodded as he went to go get it. When he came back, he handed it to Logan. “There you go. And just so you’re not freaked out, I didn’t look. I don’t know what’s inside the bag.”

“Thank you, Patton.” Logan nodded as he slipped the bag over his shoulder.

“Of course. I’ll see you later, percolator.”

“Not your best.” Logan shook his head.

“I agree.” Patton winced.

Logan gave a smile to Patton, one very rare, before starting to leave. Patton was so intertwined with his research, more than Logan could even comprehend at the moment. He just needed to talk to Patton more, he knew that much. But what could he do? Patton was the prettiest man that Logan had ever seen and someone interesting that Logan wanted to know. The only option flickering through his mind was asking Patton on a date. That was ridiculous.

Logan didn’t date. He rarely even liked people. The only reason he found out he was gay was because he had developed a huge crush on Sherlock Holmes. Otherwise, he would’ve been completely content with being aromatic. But there was something so entrancing about Patton. Something that made Logan forget most of his senses and something that made Logan become so distracted that he’d miss work for the man or focus all his attention on watching him over researching.

So it was stupid. Irrational. Delusional, even. What made Logan think that Patton would even say yes? Still, it was Logan’s only option. So Logan stopped in his tracks and turned towards the man behind him.

“Patton?”

“Yes, Logan?” Patton looked at Logan earnestly.

“Would you maybe like to go on a date with me in the coming days to get to know each other? You’re an interesting character and I’d like to learn more about you.”

Logan’s heart pounded in his chest, his breath hitching as he waited for Patton’s answer. There was no possible way that Patton would say yes. It didn’t make sense. They only met each other a few weeks ago. Logan wasn’t that interesting as a person. He was robotic, professional, and apathetic. Patton was full of energy and happiness. There could be no possible scenario that Patton would say yes.

Except Patton smiled, tilted his head to the side excitedly, and replied back, “I’d like that a latte.”

Something rang in his ears. His heart stopped as soon as he heard the answer. He started to breathe a lot faster than he was before. He was dying. No. It was just his nerves starting to dissipate as he had gotten his answer. He didn’t even care about the pun Patton had made as his thoughts began to whirl around, trying to understand what it was that made Patton say yes. Why Patton would want to get to know Logan more. Or if there was some alternative motive. No, Patton was too sweet to have an alternative motive. It couldn’t have been that.

“Here. I’ll give you my number and you can text me about it. I’d like to get to know you too. You’re an interesting character, Logan.”

Logan exhaled, trying to regain his breathing without letting Patton know that he had been nervous over asking Patton out. As far as they knew it, it was a friend date. They were getting to know each other as friends. Not as lovers. That was all there was to it.

Logan grabbed the slip of paper that Patton handed to him and nodded, “Thank you. I’ll talk to you later?”

“Later.” Patton smiled, waving goodbye to Logan as Logan walked out of the coffee shop.

He was going to go on a date with Patton Morris, but it was not because Logan wanted to date Patton and it was definitely not because Logan was attracted to Patton. It was solely because Patton was the key factor to Logan’s research.

He just had to convince his dumb heart that was pounding so fast and his flushed cheeks so. He had to convince his stupid feelings that it was only because Patton was an important part of finding out what the government wanted with the Medeis.

That was all there was to it.

[fantasy-things-and-such]

Incorrect quote tag

Hehehe I'm very late but thanks @the-golden-comet for the tag

Let’s just- let’s just do a bunch of these. lol.

Sunset:

Tira

Tira: I keep a picture of all of us in my wallet. Whenever I face difficulties, I take it out and stare at the picture.

The Squad: Awwww-

Tira: And I tell myself "If I can deal with these idiots, then I can deal with anything."

The Squad: Oh.

Tira and Lilli

Tira: I like your new pants!

Lilli: Thanks, they were 50% off!

Tira: I’d like them better if they were 100% off. *winks*

Lilli: The store can’t just give away clothes for free.

Tia: Thats’s… not what I meant.

Lilli: That’s a terrible way to run a business, Tira.

Erain and camellia

Camellia : I'm going to get myself some soup.

Erain: Be careful not to burn yourself, it's hot.

Camellia : Pfft, I won't burn myself.

*30 seconds later*

Camellia , entering the room: I burned myself.

Tira and lilli(again)

Lilli: You look really stressed.

Tira: Haha, it’s the stress.

The squad(minus Tira)

Camellia : I have a bad feeling about this...

Erain: What do you mean?

Camellia : Don't you ever get that little voice in your head that tells you if you're going to get into trouble?

Erain: No?

Lilli: That actually explains so much.

————————————

White Candy

Chia and Matthew

Chia, playing a video game: This game is so frustrating! I hate it, I hate it, I hate it!

Marie: Ok, I think it’s time to turn off the game for a little while.

Chia: But I’m having fun!

Chia and Marie

Marie: Why aren’t you sleeping?

Chia: I’m too busy plotting your murder to sleep, Marie.

Marie:

Chia: ...The nightmares.

Marie: *wrapping their arms around Chia* Awwww, sweetie-

(Side note: this could actually happen??? Chia has hella PTSD.)

Chia, Marie and Matthew

Marie: Comparing Chia and Matthew is like comparing apples and oranges.

Chia: We’re both unique in our own ways?

Marie: Apples are superior in every way and all oranges should be eliminated.

Matthew: Which one of us is the orange?

Chia, Marie and Matthew(pt2)

Matthew: What's your most controversial video game hot take?

Chia: The pursuit for photorealism in games is a fruitless endeavor that only results in bloated file sizes that take too much space.

Marie: Mario is a woman and just really butch.

———————————

Frontline:

Kestrel and Feilitet

Feilitet : I called you like ten times! Why didn’t you pick up?

Kestrel: *remembers dancing to the ringtone*

Kestrel: I didn’t hear it.

Kestrel and feilitet(pt2)

Kestrel, on the phone: What’s up, Feilitet ?

Feilitet : I’m sitting in a pool of blood.

Kestrel: …Um, is it YOUR blood?

Feilitet : I think so.

Kestrel: Do you know where the blood’s coming from?

Feilitet : Probably the stab wound.

Kestrel: YOU’VE BEEN STABBED?!

Feilitet : Oh, yeah, definitely.

Feilitet

Feilitet , looking at the squad: Okay, so I need to become a therapist faster.

Feilitet and kestrel(pt2)

Kestrel: Did you win? Or just not die?

Kestrel: Either way, hooray.

Feilitet : ...Is "no" a valid answer?

Kestrel: The hooray is redacted and you frighten me.

Feilitet and kestrel(pt3)

Kestrel: I’m so tired.

Feilitet : Did you get to bed late?

Kestrel: No.

Feilitet : Did you do something strenuous?

Kestrel: No.

Feilitet : Then why are you tired?

Kestrel: I’m alive.

Feilitet : Sounds exhausting.

Feilitet and Main

Main: Fellas, I gotta know for science. Is the opposite of red green or blue?

Feilitet : Technically a mix of green and blue?

Main: So blurple.

Feilitet : That's implying you're mixing blue and purple.

Main: Would you rather have fucking bleen? MOTHERFUCKING GRUE?

Feilitet : You were confusing before but now I'm scared.

idk this was so funny to me. tagging: @ominous-feychild @the-ellia-west @agirlandherquill @illarian-rambling @willtheweaver @the-letterbox-archives

sorry if u already did this~

[talesmaniac89]

Charity Heist 4 - aka. The Arm Candy Conundrum

A Supernatural Heist AU - Masterlist

Pairing: Hitter!Dean x Thief!Reader

Summary: The Singer & Winchester Retrieval Agency is the best group of con artists in the world. But even though Y/N can crack safes, scale buildings and infiltrate even the most secure locations, she still can't find a way to deal with her all consuming feelings for the group's greek god of a hitter; Dean Winchester. How will she handle their next big heist, when she's forced to get up close and personal with the man of her dreams?

Warnings: Idiots in love, smutty thoughts, a lot of swearing and a ton of bad jokes.

Watch the trailer here

A/N: This story is 50% jokes and 50% dirty thoughts. No deep angst, just fun and action! Inspired by the series Leverage.

Y/N = Your Name | Y/E/C = Your Eye Colour

Start Here - Last - Next

Unfortunately, there wasn’t a setting for ice cubes on your shower head. 

So, you made a mental note to yourself to ask Charlie for one and settled for plain old cold water to wash away the sweat and dirty thoughts. Which was still plenty cold in the underground bunker. Leaving you shivering as you quickly towel dried your hair and pulled on your most comfortable sweats. 

Smoothing down your still wet and tangled hair, in an effort to tame it at least a little, you hurried down the long hallway of the bunker and into Charlie’s tech dungeon in room 28. Your Network Operations Center, or as you liked to call it ‘Brainiac HQ’, was the true heart of your operation. Littered with files, screens and enough high tech systems to make NASA jealous; it was what nerdy dreams were made of. 

Or at least Charlie’s dreams, and your heists. 

This was where your very own resident wonder child hacked her way into databases, followed along on cameras and made all your fake identities believable. Though, calling it only Char’s was slightly wrong. Since Sammy spent most of his time there as well. Both of the team’s two teacher’s pets had their own areas in the operations room. With a separate space set up to accommodate the rest of your band of merry men when you were needed for in-depth planning and pre-con briefing past Bobby’s introductory preamble. 

You didn’t get your own desks. Since Dean, yourself and… Well, you couldn’t be fully certain about Cas, but none of you seemed like the teacher’s pet type. 

Hell, you’d never even gone to school, and you definitely didn’t play well with authority figures. You pictured yourself as a little more class clown than star pupil. Unless of course that teacher was Dean, and you were indulging in some more… Scholastic fantasies alone in your room at night. 

Then you’d be a really good girl.

This time, every screen was filled with multiple angles of the same overly bourgeois house. The whole place screamed old money in new hands, with its mix of good taste and trashy attempts at ‘modernizing’ it. Clearly Charlie and Sam had been hard at work while you were working out, or at least attempting to work out, with Dean. That was definitely the CCTV of the mafia boss’ home. Or at least the ground floor of it.

Luckily, that was exactly where the party would be happening. And, according to your man on the inside, the ground floor also housed the safe you were after.

“Right, so now that we’re all here,” Sam cleared his throat, a tried and tested bitch glare in place as he looked over your shoulder to where Dean was slowly sauntering into the room, a shiteating grin plastered on his face. His hair was damp and messy, and he’d changed into a new pair of black jeans and a very fitting AC/DC t-shirt to match his cover’s name. Clearly, if the slight flush to the skin on his neck was anything to go by, he hadn’t followed your example of keeping the shower short and cold. 

He looked hot, in more ways than one. 

“We’ve managed to hack into the CCTV already installed in the house. There’s only cameras on the ground floor, and only in strategic locations, at least from what’s tied to the CCTV setup. But we can use that to our advantage,” Sam said, dropping down into one of the chairs next to the literal wall of screens, as you moved to lean against Charlie’s desk. Careful to hide your small smile when Dean leaned against the desk next to you.

“You’ll need to memorize the blind spots. We want to be caught on camera as little as physically possible. We’ll erase what they have and loop the minutes before and after over it, but just in case they spot us swiping cards or scoping the place live on the night, it’s better if we keep out of the cameras’ line of sight,” He continued, nodding towards the screens just as Charlie’s fingers danced across her keyboard to focus in on one of the rooms.

“From the intel we have, the host likes to show off his wealth, so he'd be unlikely to limit the party space to just a few rooms. But this is probably where most of the people will be mingling,” Charlie shot in, nodding towards the large living room, littered with art pieces and small couches pushed against every wall. By the looks of it, they could fit a damned rock concert in there if they wanted to. 

“But…” 

Charlie cut off her own words as she furiously typed in a command on the computer. Splitting the view into multiple screens again, before refocusing the central screens on another room, much smaller, yet no less overly bougie. 

“This is the space we’re clocking as the most likely location for the safe,” Sam jumped right back in. The two of them worked together like the geekiest tag team the world had ever seen. If they were wrestlers, their stage names would be in binary.

“Other than the clearly forged Rembrandt, I can’t see anything that stands out from this angle, but I wasn’t expecting to either,” You mused, eyes locked on the screen in front of you and all business, even as your body reacted to the slight brush of Dean’s arm against yours next to you. 

“Bobby’s inside man wasn’t really forthcoming with all the details. He said the safe was in the house, and on the ground floor based on what he knew, but that’s it. We’ll need to scout for it when we’re there and confirm its location,” Sam nodded, hazel eyes focused on the screen for only a second before he turned in his chair to take in the rest of you. 

Each member of your little team was tense in anticipation and focused on the end goal now that you could see the finish line on the screens in front of you. 

These guys were going down.

“We don’t have enough details to plan for extraction yet. So on the night of the party we’ll have to; find the safe, plot the exit points and get an eye on the guards, plus whatever weapons they’re packing. That’s on top of Cas rubbing shoulders with the worst of ‘em in case we need the turnabout strategy and getting our hands on as many IDs as possible,” Sam was counting off each point on his fingers as Charlie continued to work her magic across the screen, bringing up new images over the still running video feeds. 

Yeah, you had your work cut out for you… 

And that was only the main plan. You knew there’d be extra little goodies to keep an eye out for as well. There always was. And as Sam fished out yet another pile of folders, you knew you were about to hear all about them… 

Yay…. 

Fucking folders.

--- 

“We still haven’t managed to get hold of the full guest list, but I got snippets through some other, less secure, databases where some of the guests where a little too talkative about their invitations,” Charlie spoke up. Taking over again once Sam finished running through a laundry list of weapon types to look out for, people of interest that could be possible targets if they were there. As well as wiretap and camera placements that could help you collect more intel in the time between the party and the heist. 

With a quick tap of her index finger, the screen changed, pulling up a few very familiar faces, with some new ones thrown into the mix. You could feel the mood in the room sour as your shoulders tensed. Next to you, Dean’s body shifted, as if readying for a fight, as some of the most evil sons of bitches you knew popped up on the screen. If you hadn’t been sure that the party was a cover before, you sure as hell were now. With what was basically a who’s who of the biggest bastards the world knew littering the screens. 

Luckily none of your own former enemies from previous cons were up there… You were just too good at your job for any of those bastards to still be walking free. These guys however… These were the ones you’d yet to get enough on to warrant a heist. A slippery bunch. Each and every one of ‘em.

Including one of the slimiest men you knew...

“Dick Roman…” You muttered under your breath, (Y/E/C) eyes locked with the dead, nearly black eyes of the billionaire businessman and all around bad guy. Roman was a man all of you knew, hell… Most people did. As the owner of Roman Enterprises and one of the fifty most powerful men in America he was pretty much a household name. 

What most people didn’t know was that he was also big on biowarfare. One of the main players in the invention and sale of gasses, viruses and other forms of microscopic lethality. You’d yet to get a lead that allowed you to take him down, but you were itching to get the chance to. 

Especially Charlie, who’d once upon a time worked as a whitehat hacker for one of the bastard’s more legal businesses. The guy was scum… No… That was unfair to scum. He was like sludge sticking to the bottom of your sneaker. Black, viscous and annoyingly persistent. 

“Of course that dick’s gonna be there. We’ll have to play it carefully. He’s evil, but he ain’t stupid. If he makes any of us, he’s sure to make our lives a living hell,” Dean groaned next to you, one big hand going up to pinch the bridge of his nose as he shivered at the thought of the slimy bastard. 

“And he’s not the only one…” Charlie’s voice was trembling slightly as she looked at the image of a smartly dressed man next to Roman’s headshot. Jacob Styne… The Styne family was another big player in the American criminal underworld. Clearly this party was set to be filled with the worst of the worst.

The Stynes were, on the surface, a political family. With Jacob Styne being a front runner for future governor. Under the surface however, the Styne family didn’t make their money campaigning. Instead it came from generations in the organ trade. 

Politics cost an arm and a leg after all… 

The Styne family just chose to have others pay the entry fee for them. 

Unfortunately, they were currently untouchable. The many generations of Stynes had built safety nets upon safety nets around themselves. Including some untraceable accounts and a boat load of identities. Though you knew Bobby was hard at work trying to find a way you could take them down. 

“We’re really walking into hell here aren’t we,” You groaned, keeping your eyes on a nondescript woman in a grey suit; her brown hair up in a migraine inducingly tight bun. She looked like a librarian. A librarian you could tackle. At least that way you could avoid looking at the other, more familiar faces on the screen. The Bishops, The Thule cult, hell, even Astor, the crooked art dealer, was up on the list. And next to her, a man you really didn’t want to party with...

Alastair. 

That man was a monster. There wasn’t anyone in the underground that didn’t know his name. Serial-killer and main mafia torturer, he was pretty much just a killer for hire whose loyalty was only with his own wallet and the pleasure he found in pain. Also… He was yet another example of mobsters deciding to just, not have surnames. Like, wasn’t that supposed to be a Madonna thing? When did the big bad jump on the bandwagon?

What was next? Pointy bras and too much hairspray?

“So… We’re walking into a damned pit of vipers. What’s new?” Dean finally spoke up, breaking the heavy tension in the room as he signaled silently to his brother to keep the show moving, and preferably remove the pictures of pure evil from the screen. 

“True, but they do mean we have to be more careful. Try to avoid anyone making you, and if possible stay far away from the worst of ‘em, unless we see an opening that could help us take ‘em down later on,” Sam sighed, leaning over Charlie, where her eyes were still looked on the Styne family heir and hit a button to change the images on the screen to a new group of faces. 

This group was much more welcome and familiar. Well, with the exception of one, that was. 

The faces of your own little group, sans Sammy, were smiling back down at you, fake names and all. And of course, there was Crowley. Luckily, if you squinted just right, you could crop him out of the picture, and better yet, focus in on Dean’s headshot. 

He always looked damned good in a suit. 

“You’re all caught up on your covers right?” Sam asked as he turned away from the keyboard and looked over at the rest of you. Not missing your annoyed little huff as you rolled your eyes. 

“You mean Alicia? I’ve seen deeper background stories for nameless stormtroopers Sammy. Fucking Stormtroopers,” You didn’t bother hiding the bitteness in your voice, even as Dean tried to disguise his laughter behind an overly fake cough. 

“It’s…”

“Yeah yeah… Spare me the excuses. I know, the mafia’s terrified of a pair of tits,” You grumbled, looking up at the short bullet points next to each of your characters. Yours was just as short as Charlie’s. Neither of you needed much time to prepare your cover stories, even though you’d probably spend triple the time getting ready to go to the party. 

It was unfair. 

This time Dean didn’t even try to disguise his laughter, And the pure, brilliant sound of it sent the butterflies in your stomach into overdrive. Scratch that, these weren’t butterflies, they were damn attack helicopters. Yeah, you really loved making him laugh. It made you all tingly and warm. Even when faced with the mafia's particularly pungent brand of misogyny.

“Alright then,” Sam cleared his throat in a weak attempt to hide his own surprised laugh, before he gestured up at the screen behind him, eyes still on your group. 

“Cover wise, Castiel is the only one who should need to properly reveal his character’s background. Since Crowley will be introducing him to people as a possible investor. That way he’ll have easy access to get a full read of them, and hopefully tease some information out of ‘em as well,” As Sam spoke, Castiel nodded along. His normally stiff back relaxed and a slightly cocky smirk in place.

Your grifter always fell right into character the moment it was assigned. You’d be dealing with a strange mix of Cas and stranger danger from now until the party was over. And by the looks of the bullet points, his character was definitely ready to rub elbows with the big bad on the guestlist; weapon development, human trafficking, drugs… The full enchilada. 

“Charlie and (Y/N)... Your characters should stay as hidden as possible. I know you used to work for Roman Enterprises Char, but from what you’ve told me I don’t think we need to worry about Roman recognizing you. Try to avoid engaging in conversation and keep moving if someone tries to talk to you. You’ll be there as plus ones, so you should be able to rely on Cas and Dean for backup as far as covers go,” Sam continued, rolling his eyes at your childish frown. 

“Thank God… I don’t like talking to people,” The way Charlie whispered the word ‘people’ made it sound like the filthiest word known to man. The wash your mouth with soap type of filthy that was... Nothing like the filth in your own mind where you were still acutely aware of Dean next to you.

Sam only chuckled at Charlie’s words before finishing up the cover connection with Dean’s role. “And Dean… Your cover is as Cas’ business partner, but mainly in the way of ‘products’ and muscle, so you should be free to walk around. If anyone catches you eyeing up the firepower carried by the security at the party, you can lean into your arms dealer persona to get out of it,” 

On the screen, each new tap of Charlie’s finger brough new lines, tying the team and plan together. Easily mapping out the human ties needed to make your little group work within the confines of the party without standing out too much as individuals. All attention should be on Castiel, the rest of you should just appear as garnish to the untrained eye.

“Sounds good Sam. I’ll scout the guards with (Y/N), so she can scope out our exit paths, and...” Dean started, but before he could continue Sam raised a quick hand to stop him. Brown hair falling into his eyes as he shook his head.

“(Y/N)’s going as Castiel’s date. She’s the better pickpocket, and won’t need to move around as much past checking the exit paths and confirming the safe is where it’s supposed to be. Charlie needs to place cameras and wiretaps, so it makes sense for her to go with you Dean, since you’ll be on the move,” Sam said, nodding to Charlie who easily pressed a few keys and showed your approximate planned paths around the party, and the pairs you’d be in. Your smiling face looked back at you from the screen, sandwiched between Cas’ and Crowley’s... 

Damn it, you’d have to hang around the United Kingdom of Sass all night. You’d go crazy.

“Don’t worry Alicia, I’ll watch your back, and make sure to keep the main focus on myself. That way you can scout and free the marks of their wallets,” Cas was, as always, a true gentleman. Even if he insisted on calling you by your damned cover name already. 

You’d teamed up with the grifter a few times before, and you worked pretty well together. He always knew when to give you the space you needed to do your job without crowding you. And you knew he could control Crowley. The Scotsman seemed nearly subdued when Cas was around. 

The plan made sense, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t at least get one snarky dating remark in there… Maybe two if you were lucky.

“Alicia would want dinner first,” You smirked, raising an eyebrow at the trenchcoat enigma across the room from you. Happy when you managed to tease an exasperated eyeroll out of him, momentarily breaking his cover. 

“I’ll buy you a burger after we’re done with the case,” He conceded, which only helped brighten your smile. You never said no to free burgers. Yet, before you could speak up again to push for some fries with that burger, Dean interrupted you. 

“No, that doesn’t work,” 

His voice was deep and dark. So very different from your light teasing tone and even Castiel’s annoyed one. His lowered voice easily pulled your eyes off of Castiel and over to where he had pushed himself away from the desk, though he remained standing right next to you. 

“She needs to scope the exits, get eyes on the safe… We can’t just trust Bobby’s inside man,” His clenched jaw made the words come out clipped and short. Back straight and shoulders tense as he stared down the image of Crowley on the screen next to yours. The ice freezing up his green eyes barely visible under his long lashes as he kept his full attention on the screen, ignoring your questioning look. 

As always, Dean took your heists seriously, and you knew he felt responsible if any one of your little ragtag group got as much as a broken nail on his watch. Which was why he was always quick to react if he didn’t agree with a plan.

“We need the IDs and…” Sam started, clearly not seeing the challenge in his brother’s clenched jaw. Dean’s lips were pressed tightly together as he shook his head at Sam, taking a step towards him. 

“Castiel’s a great pickpocket. He can hand the cards to Charlie, who’ll strip the info and hand ‘em back. Easy... And it makes more sense. He can pull off getting close to ‘em better than (Y/N) can if she’s just his plus one,” 

Dean’s voice was like rolling thunder as he cut his brother off. His hands curled into slightly trembling fists at his sides as he opened his mouth to say more. Before clearly thinking better of it and swallowing the words down, hard. Choosing instead to tear his eyes off of the screen to stare down Sam instead.

“Charlie needs to plant cameras…” Sam wasn’t giving up on his plan either. When the two brothers butted heads it could often end up carrying on for a while. Clearly stubbornness ran in the family. No matter how infuriating it was for the rest of you.

“Yeah, but we’ve already marked where we want ‘em. Just choreograph her wandering the party, getting new drinks, whatever. Just like you’d have to make (Y/N) move to scout exits,” Dean nodded at the screen, still showing carefully plotted paths from room to room. The dotted lines made sure you’d all cover the ground you needed too, without the hosts or security catching onto you casing the joint. 

“Dean…” Sam’s eyes followed Dean’s to the screen, hand pushing the cursor over one path to highlight it as he got ready to lawyer up and make his rebuttal. 

But Dean wasn’t letting the younger man speak. His deep voice was all business, and when the former mercenary meant business, you really didn’t want to stand in his way. Even if they were talking about you as if you weren’t there. Which pissed you off, big time.

“Sammy... She should go with me. It makes the most sense,” Dean cut in again, arms folding across his chest as he kept his eyes on his brother and jaw clenched tight. 

“She’s right here you know! Stop treating me like I’m fucking invisible, ‘cause if I was I’d be a damn superhero by now,” You shot in, throwing your hat in the ring for the title of the most stubborn bastard of the bunker. 

You wouldn’t just stand around listening to them using you as an excuse for another fucking pissing contest. They both had good heads on their shoulders as far as planning went, but that didn’t mean they always knew how to use them. And that definitely didn’t give them the right to drag you into it like you were the last damned good toy on the playground.

“I know (Y/N), but this is the best way. The safe’s our priority,” Dean’s voice was warmer and calmer as he glanced away from his brother and flinched at the quiet anger building in your (Y/E/C) eyes. 

You really didn’t like it when someone tried to run your life for you. You’d had enough of that with the organization controlling every aspect of your childhood and early teen years. After all, you were a big girl, and you were fucking amazing at your job. 

No matter whose arm you had to hang off of during it. All because of the goddamn patriarchy. 

“I can…” You started, though you didn’t really know where you were going with it past some ‘I am woman, hear me roar’ lines to knock their testosterone levels down a few pegs. 

Yet, unfortunately, your bravado was short lived, as a gruff voice you hadn’t been expecting boomed over yours. Nearly making you bite your fucking tongue in surprise as you jumped away from the desk. Though you personally thought you did a damned good job at hiding your shock as you gracefully let yourself thud back against the desk with a sigh and an eye roll. 

“Boys! Stop actin’ like idjits. Sammy, your plan is good, but Dean makes a good point about the safe. Let’s switch the pairs,” Bobby’s voice came from out of nowhere. Drawing every set of eyes towards the phone on the table next to Sam. Your big boss hadn’t spoken up once during the whole briefing, but clearly he’d been listening in. 

Damn it, he was a ninja. A sneaky, stealthy phone ninja.

“(Y/N), you’re goin’ with Dean. Watch his back, case the exits and get eyes on the safe. That final one’s your main priority, got that? Dean, weapons and security, as planned. Charlie, you back Cas up and place your gadget eyes and ears along the way, Cas, you know what to do, you get our girl the cards she needs and she’ll strip ‘em,” 

Bobby didn’t give any of you a chance to even protest or, hell, agree to his plan. Shooting off rapidfire orders from the speakerphone on Sam’s desk as your little band of not so merry men nodded along like a bunch of scolded school children. 

“In the meantime… Sam, you’ll be running point on this one from outside the party. I’ll be busy on the turnabout angle, in case it comes to that, and greasin’ up the right legal wheels so we’re ready to throw the boss right into a jail cell if we can. Is that understood?” 

Once more your little group was left simply nodding at a phone as if it could see you. However, as the silence dragged on, it seemed your gruff leader needed a bit more of a verbal confirmation this time. 

“Yes boss,” 

Your voice mixed with those of the rest of your group, all groans, strict professionalism and tense nerves blending into a chorus. Each and every aspect of those many verbal emotions were just as present in you. Anger at Sam and Dean’s stubbornness, readiness to kick ass and forget about the names (you were never good at remembering ‘em anyway) and nerves… 

Fuck, there were so many nerves.

Ok... So, deep breaths. 

Now you’d have to act like Dean’s date. Damn it… You really should’ve practiced your cover better. You barely even remembered your fake name whenever he was around. If his hand had to be on your lower back, leading you around the room, you might just forget your actual name as well. 

Sam was a brilliant strategist, and he knew that having you at your best, meant also not having you at your damn horniest. So, your cover being any form of romantically entangled with Dean’s was a pairing that had been silently nixed for every other heist. EVER. 

Both Sam and Char knew you needed all your brain power for the cons. And with Dean around… Well, half of your brain went into maintenance mode; as your body had to remember how to breathe again and your heart beat its way out of your chest and into your throat.

Plus, with his icy eyes and tense shoulders from moments earlier still fresh in your mind, you couldn’t even manage another weak attempt at date snark to get another burger out of it. Which meant you’d lost your burger too... 

Everything about this con was just unfair. 

You did, for just a moment, consider warning him that you didn’t put out on the first date, as an attempt at your normal fake date snark. The same you’d normally pull with anyone you had to pretend to have given your heart to for a heist. This time though, that would just make you a liar. And though you were many things; a thief, a con artist, a spy and a damned good infiltrator, your mother didn’t raise no liar. 

Well… Your mother didn’t raise you at all, but that was beside the point.

There was no way you could pull off something as horrendously untrue as a snarky fib about first dates and your perceived archaic stance to them. Not with Dean. If it was him asking you on a date, then you’d have definitely invited him to your room to look at your pokemon card collection after just a cup of shitty bunker coffee. No need to wine and dine when the man himself was a fucking five star meal. 

Sure… You’d technically been paired with Dean on certain cases before. But your role wasn’t ever as his date. 

You were usually a secretary, or an art expert or something. Some form of cover that allowed at least a bit of breathing space between you, and didn’t involve hanging off his arm. But Alicia had no such background. Which meant you had to act as Dean’s girlfriend, or side piece, for the night. 

Shit... 

Was the world out to kill you? What had you done for Mother Earth herself to put out a hit on you? Was it the art theft in France? Or the time you might have, sort of, maybe, snuck into the Vatican? Or… Damn it. There were just too many items on your naughty list. Karma was a bitch, and one you’d been ghosting for a very, very long time. 

It seemed you were long overdue a death by heavy heart beats, frantic butterflies and dirty, downright filthy thoughts. And, as you glanced in Dean’s direction, you couldn’t help but think it’d be a hell of a way to go. Especially when your eyes locked with bright forest green as he beamed down at you from his victory over his brother. Looking absolutely freaking adorable. 

Yeah, the world was definitely out to kill you.

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Charity Heist: @foxyjwls007 @seppys-return-to-madness @stoneyggirl2 @ladysparkles78 @twinkleinadiamondsky @tmb510 @mimaria420

Dean Winchester Tags: @ria132love @woodworthti666 @defenderrosetyler  @akshi8278 @justanotherwinchester @lyarr24 @torn-and-frayed @all-will-be-well-love @wearesuchstuff1 @thefridgeismybestie @adoptdontshoppets @starsandmidnightblue @screechingartisancashbailiff @septixtrash @punof-agun  @deandreamernp @justagirlinafandomworld @sexyvixen7 @justrealizedimmascifygurl @globetrotter28 @siospins2 @iprobablyshipit91 @mrsjenniferwinchester @leigh70 @roseblue373 @djs8891