#or if you were in the server at one point and left you're always welcome to come back and give it another go

[arielxlazarus]

Come join us for some shenanigans in our 18+ one piece server!

[redfoxwritesstuff]

Home Is Where The Heart Is (Vox x reader Fluffer w/ light angst)

Vox x Reader Rated: General Warnings: I accidently spilled a little angst on the fluff serving. Sorry? Summary: You're cooking dinner when your secret boyfriend comes home. Caught up in the moment, confessions are made and hearts are put on the line.

Come join us at VoxTek for a Vox themed Hazbin Hotel Discord server- You can Trust Us with your entertainment! Here's an Alastor themed Discord server as well

Masterlist AO3 KoFi

~~~~~<3

Humming in the kitchen, you danced around the sink as you listened absently to the televised concert. You had access to all the best channels, privilege granted by who your boyfriend was but that wasn’t why you were with him. You were with him, quite simply, because you loved him. You had loved him for a while, not that you dared to say it.

Sure he was powerful. Sure he had money. Sure he took care of you. He even kept you safe during the exterminations. 

But the most important part to you was that you loved him and he cared for you. 

That’s all there really was to it. 

Vox made a point to always walk into your apartment by the door. At least, whenever he was coming and going in any official sense. He was old fashioned in all the most romantic ways though you hadn’t expected it from the tech mogul.

There was a series of beeps as the pin code was entered into the door as your smile widened. With a flick to remove the extra water from the carrots you were washing, you set them aside quickly and snatched up a towel to dry your hands as you scurried toward the door.

“Welcome back,” You said as you threw your damp hands around Vox’s shoulders, smacking his screen with the towel on accident. 

“Hey,” he said simply, tension falling from his shoulders as he was enveloped in the daydream he had spent all day thinking about. You were his retreat. You were his shelter. “What have you been up to?” 

“Just starting dinner,” You answered, running your hands down his chest and smiling up at him. “Roast chicken tonight. Will you stay? Or are you just popping by?”

It wasn’t uncommon for Vox to stop by for a few minutes, half an hour or so when he was between meetings. You worked managing schedules from the comfort of your unit, another privilege granted by who you were dating, not that your peers knew that. 

He was a busy man and you could never count on how long he would be able to stay when he walked through your door. It helped that you could be counted on to always be home.

“Took the rest of the night off.” Vox smiled down at you, eyes bright. “I’m not due back until nine tomorrow.”

“Nine?!” You made a show of how scandalized the thought made you. It wasn’t the first time Vox had taken a large chunk of time off his schedule just for you but it wasn’t often at all that it would happen. “What will we do with fifteen whole hours?!” 

“For a start, we should make dinner,” Vox laughed as he leaned down, placing a static tinged kiss on your lips before stepping out of your arms. 

“Right,” you laughed as he let his clawed hands trailed over your skin as you stepped out of his reach. 

Vox stepped deeper into your apartment, slipping his jacket and vest off. You smiled at him over the counters as you took in the view of him. It was a sight few had gotten to see, Vox in blue slacks and a white button down shirt, sleeves uncuffed as he worked them up over his elbows. 

This was one of your favorite ways to see him, relaxed and having just came home from work. It was a look that left your heart beating hard and put daydreams about this being normal in your head. It was a close second to the way he looked late in the night or early in the morning, screen smudged and sleep clouding the picture on his screen, comfortable lounge clothes hanging off his lean frame. 

“See something you like?” Vox’s sly smile told you he had caught you checking him out. 

“Yep,” you answered shamelessly, there was no point in denying it. 

He laughed easily as he joined you in the kitchen. You went back to washing your vegetables. His arms wrapped around your waist as his front pressed against your back, bright screen casting a blue light over your work. 

“I see something I like too,” Vox’s voice was low in your ear.

“Oh?” You laughed, leaning into his arms, “You like potatoes do you?” 

“I do,” Vox’s arms reached around you, keeping you and your colander of potatoes trapped at the sink while he washed his hands as he continued, “But I like you more.” 

“You flirt,” You teased, ducking under his arms and setting to work chopping the vegetables to add to the roasting pan. “Keep talking like that and you’ll get a girl’s hopes up.”

Vox watched you for a moment, you could feel his eyes on your back as you kept your smile in place. It was a step too far. You knew the rules of the relationship. Off this floor of the tower, you were nothing to Vox. You were a secret. 

A resort of normalcy. 

Sure, you got to call him your boyfriend but to who? Him? Yourself? he called you his but never off this floor. Never anywhere that mattered. 

You loved him. You had realized it a while ago and that made the reality of your relationship hurt when it hadn’t before. It was worth it though. It was worth it for the nights like this a few times a week. 

It was worth it to get to hold him even if for a little while. 

You glanced at him as he started spreading oil over the chicken’s skin and covering it in seasonings. That was what you needed, him to give you a reason to break the weird silence in order to prevent him from ruining the roast. 

You watched as he slipped the pan into the oven, admiring the man that you had accidentally fell in love with. 

“Hey, Dollface?” Vox had a look on his face you couldn’t read and that scared you, “About what you said earlier? About-”

You forced a laugh as you looked away, busying yourself with cleaning up. Hopefully it looked natural, not showing how terrified you were. If you didn’t tell him how you felt, his weird pretend that you did a few times a week could continue and you could have him as your’s in the little world you made. 

“Look at me,” Vox’s clawed hand wrapped around your bicep, forcing you to face him. “What if a girl got her hopes up? What if a guy got his hopes up?”

“What are you-?” 

“What if we made this real?” Vox asked, not giving you a chance to think, breath or get your bearings. “What if we stopped hiding this little thing we got? What if we let it out into the world?” 

“Vox?” 

“I come here and it’s the best damn time of my week. We order dinner in and pretend we’re out. We sneak away in the offices and pretend we’re not hiding. Why are we hiding?” 

“We’re hiding because VoxTek is perfection and I’m not.” You need him to be sure. You couldn’t stand the idea of shattering that little thing between you that you kept safe in the confines of your apartment. 

“Who says you’re not?” Vox’s voice rose but he quickly schooled it as he stepped into your space, looking down at you. “You’re perfect in my eyes, Doll. I fucking love you and I don’t want to hide that.”

“I love you too.” 

[burninghorizon]

How did you learn to astral and communicate with your spirit family? [Also your discord server link is broken]

Oh no! I fixed the links in my pins, thank you for telling me. Putting the answer under a read more because this got super long.

Learning to visit the astral while conscious(the process is called bilocating) was rough at first. I felt like I didn't know what I was doing and that I would never improve. Thankfully, I didn't start with 0 experience.

I have been practicing energy work for a few years (I should be more consistent, it's the key to improvement) and having a basis in energy work is the key to doing anything in the astral. First you'll need to be able to sense energy, and the way that helped me the most was trying to feel it. Try to feel your own energy, and note if it has a temperature, texture, speed, and/or weight. I'm gonna take this ask as a sign that I need to stop being lazy and type up my energy work exercises.

In order to bilocate, you need to know something: there's a common misconception about astral projection, people think that it involves leaving your physical body, and while the sensations involved can be visceral and feel that way that's not what's happening. Now, everyone is a little different, but for the most part you can think of us as having two bodies, a physical one and an astral one. When bilocating all you're doing is becoming aware of your astral body and the sensory data it's processing. Again, everyone is a little different, but we all have sensory organs on our astral bodies(eyes, ears, skin, etc.) which process the world around them. The key is building the connection between your astral mind and your physical one so you can be aware of both places at will. The way I did this was just letting my mind relax and letting information from the astral filter over. This felt like I was stumbling around in the dark for a long time, but I knew I was making progress when information was coming over that I certainly wasn't imagining. I didn't see at first, but I knew there were elements in my environment around me, I would know there would be a river to my left and a copse of trees to my right even though I couldn't see them, for example. What helped me improve a lot was engaging all of my senses, I found that my senses of touch and smell were and are my most sensitive senses, so I spent a lot of time touching and smelling things. Eventually I started getting flashes of images of what I was seeing, and I began to hear as well. My senses could still be sharper, I need to focus to hear with any clarity, and there are some days where my sight is abysmal. Still, I improve with daily practice.

Now, as for how I met my spirit family? I stumbled into that, or rather I was guided into a "right place, right time" situation by Mother. I happened to get invited to the Astral Harbour discord server (thank you Strange) and from there I met my cousin. We became friends, she introduced me to her father(Vergil) and uncle(Dante), and her uncle and I became fast friends. Then one day she took a peak at my astral form and noticed that we looked eerily similar, I asked Mother(who I didn't know was my mother at the time) if we were related, found out through her that we are indeed related at the soul level and essentially she has been guiding me to this point where I can meet my incarnated cousin and the rest of our soul family.

Now on the topic of soul families, I will say that just like any family on this plane that they're not created equally. Some people have terrible soul families and don't want contact with theirs. I feel very blessed that my soul family has treated me wonderfully. Also, it's possible that not everyone has a soul family, and that's ok! Whether or not you want contact with your soul family is up to you, but unfortunately I have no idea how to find a person's soul family, I was guided into finding mine because that's what was right for me.

As always you are more than welcome to ask any followup questions if you have them. I suppose I'll have to work on more posts about practical astral stuff if people are interested in that. °v°

[coppycatz]

Since many have approached me asking what's happening ajsjkskd I want to give few clarification on my post specifically.

What I mentioned is just my own opinion. It's not meant to blame anyone, like I said it's how I feel. I'm not hurt by the fandom at the moment. I kind of switched to caring about other things and there's a lot happening irl right now. If you want to ask please go to people who made posts about leaving, as it's their feelings that matter.

I am not targeting anyone specifically, a lot of things mentioned has happened back in 2015 and the fact that same or similar things are happening now just means that nothing has changed. Which is dumb, tbh. 🙃

While I support my friends, please stop for a bit and breath. You've been getting very angry lately and yall know what I'm talking about. Remember that friend who quit? Well the deal was that even if they weren't extremely popular, they still got love. Idk how to explain this. It's completely valid to feel neglected, to compare yourself and feel like you're not good enough. I know this first hand. I've cried daily because of my art being shit. I've seen people do "best fandom artists" lists and so on. I know it's hard to deal with, I do. But I've returned and I kept meeting people who were happy about Coppy being active. So as much as I feel like it's wrong that here there's always "top", "middle" and "low" popularity blogs, in my opinion there are also things we notice less because of the hierarchy - like our own fans.

That being said I still think and will always think that some things are damaging and I've made a list on one server of what we can stop doing in my opinion to make people feel more welcome. Which I guess I might post here when I'll get back there, cause I left it 🙃

I personally don't know why many are uncomfortable with new members from TikTok, but I assume that maybe since new members joined old issues resurfaced, since said members were unfamiliar with what potentially could be okay or not to do.

I've been told that people are getting anon hate. Just stop? Talk normally instead. Wtf, honesly. Anon hate is for pussies. I've been called a blunt person numerous times, cause I just say a lot of things straight to the face. Idk why are you so scared of that. It's not always pleasant, but at least it's honest.

I also feel like we all need to talk more. We don't express our feelings till it gets to the boiling point which is bad. Can't we just all be more open, idk?

I've learnt due to past experiences that many people are simply not understandading each other, like as if speaking a different language? Idk. We are also so stressed and on edge somehow, I thought that it's just me, but many seem to be feeling similarly.

Fandom goes to therapy

[hms-tardimpala]

Years ago, I went to an elementary school that was legit run by a museum. Like, they would display collections at our school when it wasn't on display at the museum and we learned a lot of weird and random things through hands-on projects. The one that always gets a big reaction is our 1st grade science project had us mummify a duck.

Anyway, one of the things we learned to do was very basic bookbinding, but it was taught to us sort of as a historical, people don't bind books like this anymore, type of thing. I stumbled upon some dead blogs last year showing finished, bound fics and I was so excited to learn that, no, this is still A Thing That People Do

Now, I've been pointed to you as someone active in the craft and your work is lovely. I particularly loved your binding of A Complete Kingdom by absolute legend Komodobits. It was so clean and the colors were lovely and your lighthouse motif was spot-on.

I want to learn bookbinding, too, but I'm not sure where to start. Any advice? How did you get started? What tools or materials do you wish you'd invested more in sooner? What did you wish you'd known before you got started? I would appreciate your insight and perspective.

First of all, thank you so much for reaching out. I apologize for the time it took me to answer you: I was overwhelmed. I didn't know I'd really been noticed. Thank you for your lovely compliments, they filled me with joy <3

I'll try to answer your questions to the best of my ability, even though I still see myself as a beginner (I started in july 2022).

I started by stumbling upon this video. It served as an introduction to some basic bookbinding steps and gestures, and the stitch shown here to sew the spine is still the one I use to this day. It will only show you how to repurpose an existing cover to bind a fic in, however.

Wanting to make the whole book myself, I looked for another way to learn and found this book. And it's so good that I haven't needed to find another source of information since then. At the time I bought it, it was easy to find and not to expensive in my country, but I don't know what its situation is today where you are.

I know others learned through youtube tutorials like Sea Lemon's or DAS bookbinding's, but I didn't go that way, so I don't have recommendations.

What I can recommend is checking out ArmoredSuperHeavy's blog (their pinned post contains a link to the free bookbinding manual they made, which seems to contain the same things I learned from my book). They created the Renegade Bindery discord server. It's a wealth of knowledge and a very welcoming place (I tried it but left because I'm not good at navigating big servers, but that's just me). That's the beating heart of the bookbinding community, in my opinion.

You can get started with very rough tools, if you're not sure you want to invest right away. There are perfectly decent bookbinding kits online that will generally contain a plastic bone folder, an awl, needles and thread, and that's enough to get started. A simple cotton or linen thread waxed by pulling across a candle works great. I bought pieces of pleather made for home decor to start with, and I'm glad I did because you're always gonna make mistakes when you start, and ruining good fabric feels terrible. But now fabric is the thing I invest in the most. I buy my bookbinding cloth from Schmedt (warning: it's expensive, and may not be the most practical for you depending on where you are in the world) and I'm slowly gathering a collection of varied colors.

If you buy good tools and good fabric from the start, don't be disappointed when your first creations don't look as good as the ones you see on tumblr. You'll have to learn and get good in order to use your tools and materials to their full potential.

The great thing about bookbinding is that you learn at least one new thing every book.

I'm thinking about your questions. There's not really something I wish I'd known before I started, I think I elvolved in the most organic way as a bookbinder. As dumb as it sounds, my best advice is: try stuff, and make plenty of mistakes. Mistakes are the most efficient and fastest teachers.

Don't waste money on a small shitty guillotine if you think you're gonna buy a real one in the future (my ream cutter cost 100��, it's very good, I needn't have bothered with a 50€ one before), you're under no obligation to trim your books.

You're under no obligation to buy a Cricut to make your books look like those you see on tumblr, with vinyll titles.

WATCH OUT! SCALPELS AND BOX CUTTERS ARE HUNGRY FOR YOUR FINGERTIPS AND THEY'LL FOOL YOU INTO THINKING YOU'VE DOMESTICATED THEM. NEVER EVER TRUST A BLADE.

I don't quite know what to add. I hope this was at least a little helpful, and not just useless rambling. Thank you againg for your lovely message, and I hope you have lots of fun <3

[notfriendlyhougen]

I honestly never understood the extremes that is so common in fandom where people will say only these two things: "omg if you ship this you're a pedophile!!!!" or "omg if you don't like incest ships you're a serial harasser!!!" and oh good lord you people need to shut the entire fuck up.

when has fandom infighting just become so normalized now? if you don't fit either the pro-ship or anti label or god forbid, want to stay away from that shit, you're also inherently evil and end up on both dnis. here's the thing though, fandom has always had people with preferences. welcome to the grown up table, take a seat. when has the childish mentality of "if I don't like something, no one else can like it" come back? don't you learn to like, not bother people for that shit back as a toddler? do you not have any basic life skills and just don't know to live and let live? I have no idea how that's not just something people learn, or is it a gen alpha thing? most of the people complaining about that shit are like 13 anyway

it's gotten so bad that people have literally been kicked out of discord servers over pointless ship discourse that has nothing to do with the conversations being made.

and inb4 people come along and say "you're just echoing proshipper points" all I can say is that "proshippers" aren't the anti-harassment saints they claim to be. I, admittedly, was on the "anti" side when I was a teenager (this was before the terms antis and proshippers were even a thing, by the way) I also, admittedly, fucked with an artist that drew an "aged up" version of a child character to ship with an adult. after I poked the bear with the stick I got ruthlessly attacked by people that, assuming her following, were grown-ass adults, were death threatening me (who was like, 14 at the time) and insulting my art and the like. and this lasted for TWO YEARS even if I stopped talking about said artist and only stopped when I left the fandom, then it was crickets. very fucking childish and backwards for a group that claims to be "anti-harassment" so every time I see that I literally just say it's bullshit.

sad truth is, no community on the internet is anti-harassment. there are bad apples in every community, and you can't brush that off.

so if you're so immature that you think your community is all hunky dory or if you think that anyone shipping something you don't like is a pedophile, and are going to throw said labels at random ass people because of this shit being normalized, leave the grown up table because you clearly don't belong here. don't throw labels at me either because good lord I really dgaf

[hydrasslutbin]

@stringxpuller

He had to hold himself from saying hastily, 'He knew'. the glint in his eyes toward her. Oh, how he knew. If she only knew how long he's waited. His eyes followed hers, they trailed over her plump lips for a hairsbreadth. Hannibal simply raised his hand and from the dark corners of the bartending area of their spacious box, a female server/assumedly bartender approached him. With a few words, the attendant nodded and retrieved her drink. In the meantime, Hannibal responded to her earlier flirts,"Well, I'd be happy to unwrap you a little earlier than Christmas." he says with a little deepening of his voice, adding to the innuendo. Hannibal naturally built the energy and tension. Almost like a well-balanced tennis match. However, he always returned his 'serve' a little harder or faster with each pass. He let that breath, let her, and savored her reaction. Never. Breaking. Eye-contact. After a moment, her drink was brought to her with the server bent down to do so, the woman's voice mellow, but almost robotic. Her eyes were black in the irises' but this easily could be attributed to the light. Her figure was almost perfect, like a living doll, even to her fairer skin tone. "Your drink, miss." Replied the server before she retreated to await her call. The whole time, Hannibal did not touch his whiskey until she did so, the pure amber color, the 'nose' or scent rich from the cup already. A connoisseur, or even one familiar with whiskey could tell this wasn't cheap nor lower quality. With hints of rich vanilla, and notes of cherries and chocolate. Not infused but the aging was clearly important. Hannibal held his glass up and towards her, "I propose a toast. To a lasting, and fuller future, together." he said , keeping his voice neutral, but intentionally hopeful, a gentle nudge. As he touched his glass with hers, he sipped at the same time as her adds, "If I might be quite bold, but I do hope you're as easier than this whiskey." he purposely paused, letting her mind fill up with what he said, but also to let her comment on the whiskey if she had any before providing context and teasing her. "To start with why you're here. We both have expansive and vast....networks and enterprises, so to speak." He says as his left-hand spreads wide for emphasis. "And you've been all but too kind to keep your pretty nose out of my backyard, and a gentleman never troubles a lady's own business unless asked ah'course. That said,we've both grown to-the-point to where, as we say where I'm from, "Creek ain' big 'nough for two fightin' Catfish. I hope you can follow what I'm hintin' at here, intelligent woman as y'self." he took a sip of his whiskey, face a little more serious and brows slightly furrowed. Probing to see her reaction. Again, he lets the long pause take over, his aura unchanged, he naturally filled the space with just himself before saying finally, "I came unarmed, y'kno'." He says breaking the tension as he relaxes back into his chair from his perfect posture. He sat his drink down and opened his tuxedo coat, an intricate design of blue roses with silver trim on the inside but he showed that from his belt line to his vest he appeared to be unarmed.

Dropping his outer coat he then continued, "While you are more an welcome to search me, at your leisure-" a pause to give her a look with a mix of flirtation and seriousness before he continued on, "I won't tell you to lay down your arms." He says looking to her hairpin and to her slender legs. He had to focus on not trying to look between but kept his eyes where he believed her leg holster would be before looking back towards her eyes. "I propose we come together, my resources and yours. My blood is yours. Your enemies are, of course, mine." His eyes were intense towards her, leaving no room for doubt. "And even closer still, if you so chose as well." His voice got a little deeper, baritone with his drawl as if he were whispering between them. The seating arrangement, purposely was set to keep them close to the table beside them. Perfectly intimate while still keeping a slight wall so as not to be too off-putting. If one noticed, one could see the calculating nature of the space. Open space, public, to give reassurance. The intimate setting for his proposal. "So,what says you, my lady?" Hannibal asks while holding out his right hand, still giving her the open to ask questions,to listen.

Watch Our Puppets Dance!

@stringxpuller

Hannibal Battista Henson, of the famous Henson family Dynasty, made his own way using his own skills. He didn't want to have anything to do with his family and wanted to succeed in the family in his own way. It wasn't until he had Enlisted, and post-traveled and networked that he realized that the humble southern gentleman from Kentucky was adept for the life of crime. Arms dealing gambling, and more. Everything safe for illicit substances and certain types of trafficking. He had his standards and he had his limits. With his leadership, what would've taken most criminals with his ambition decades he did in mere years. What took others months took him mere days. He had grown his syndicate until his regional even continental enemies had been pushed down. All but one. As his eyes had been set to strengthen his international reach he had realized one stood in his way. The so-called, "Mistress of Strings." or the Puppeteress. She had been a thorn in his side, but both were careful to avoid each other as much as possible, which was why he had kept his side clear of the other groups. However, when the two fish were the biggest in the pond, he realized he had to do something.

Which was why he fancied to have a meeting. Now, normally he'd leave the decision of where to a neutral location. However, it was growing closer to Christmas, and he fancied something to do in the best side of New York since he had official business there, and of course shopping for his staff. (Both above and below board.) He had purchased tickets in the box seats of the Broadway opera house. Public but private, great selection and he had even opened the door to enjoy the rest of the day if things went well. Sending his invitation by hand-delivered letter was a statement. The envelope being of his own crest and colors (Green, silver and black) and sealed with a green wax. It was a mix of different messages. One that he could find her, two, new ways to have access to her, and finally, he was being cordial. Most would be boisterous or too aggressive. He was never like that, always the gentleman, always the professional. Hannibal waited to see if she'd accept and relaxed on the day off to board his private jet to the Big Apple from the "Gateway To the South" that was his beloved Kentucky.

[supernatural-bias]

Wilbur's right hand man is Tommy right? But his left hand man is Y/N, like when Tommy is there helping Wilbur directly, you were behind the scenes getting info from the other side to Wilbur.

Your letters would always start by, 'Dear General, your left hand man is reporting for duty. Here are the information that I have gathered:...' Though the thing is, he didn't know you were his left hand man, he didn't even know that he had a left hand man so of course he suspicious of the letters and files always sent in a box placed on top of the table in the camarvan and it's always signed as ~𝒴ℴ𝓊𝓇 ℒℯ𝒻𝓉 ℋ𝒶𝓃𝒹 ℳ𝒶𝓃 ~. But after double fact checking with his official spies from the couple of times you sent the boxes of info, he trusted you a bit but he still double fact checked and tbh, you respect him for being cautious. When he won the war, you sent him one last letter that contained two words, 'Congrats, General,' with your usual signature below it. Then he never saw your letters again though he was desperate about it and tried to search for the mystery writer but came up empty. You voted for POG2020 though. So wehn you start to send letters with the same starting and info about Manberg, he was ecstatic because he knew you would never betray him and it gave him a sense of peace to know that. You never revealed yourself to him even during Pogtopia. The only time he ever got to know you as person rather than an informant when you signed as your first letter of your first name. He knew it was his 'Left Hand Man' because the handwriting was the same. It was one time and it was the only time. This made Wilbur research every single of person in the server who even has that letter in any of their names so it frustrated him to no end before he gave up. So when Wilbur died, you did the same for Tubbo and Tommy. You passed by Ghostbur multiple times but every time, he would stop and look at you like he knew you but he couldn't place his finger on it. He can remember the letters but not you. It didn't hurt you when Ghostbur didn't know you because you didn't give your identity to him. After a day of being revived by Dream. Wilbur received a letter from an old friend. He recognized the handwriting. Only 3 words were in that letter with the coordinates underneath it. 'Welcome Home, General.' signed by, ~𝒴ℴ𝓊𝓇 ℒℯ𝒻𝓉 ℋ𝒶𝓃𝒹 ℳ𝒶𝓃 ~. So he found the place of the coordinates and saw you playing guitar while sitting on the edge of the crater. You stopped and without looking, "It's good to have you back, General. I believe we haven't introduced each other properly." You placed your guitar beside you as you stood up and looked at Revivebur and saluted lazily. "Name's Y/N L/N, General, your left hand man reporting for duty." Reaction of Revivebur's please.

-✨Spoiled Anon✨ ((imma add sparkles because I'm spoiled �� 😂))

Oh my GODDDDD

Rev is completely just astounded

Tunnel vision much?

And you. You

Just sitting by that empty hole and looking up at him with a calm smile. As if you had planned all this. Which you probably have, granted your cunning nature

Wilbur brought a hand up to his hair and just grabbed at his curls. Tightly gripping them as a big smile filled with unbelievable laughter spread across his face

"You?! You're my right hand man?" He would say with an incredulous voice

Pursing your lips with a barely concealed smile was all it took for him to get his long awaited answer

He had spent many a nights as a younger and niave president thinking long and hard about who this mysterious person could be. Many a hours as a ghost trying to pinpoint who that stranger was and why they felt familiar. And it all never clicked

Not untill today

He pointed a finger in your direction with a hearty laugh, your reaction being a small chuckle

"We have much to discuss."

"Indeed we do Soot."

Part two anyone?

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

"I wish Peter Parker would stalk me. + I wish Peter Parker would kiss me under the mistletoe."

Warnings: dark content and nonconsent, mentions of stalking. If you fail to acknowledge these warnings, you proceed at your own risk.

Requested by: @jaceyneedsabetterusername and anonymous

Please reblog if you read and leave your thoughts. Thank you to those who submitted and I hope you like the drabble.

✨

You carry your tray into the back and switch it for a new one set with an array of fancy appetizers. Gooey brie dribbles from flaky pastry and the smell of basil wafts around you as you return to the large room.

Your uniform, a white blouse, with a black tie and trousers, barely discerns you from the sea of tuxedos as you make your rounds and offer your wares to guests. 

"What's in those?" A voice catches you and you turn slowly. It can't be. You hold your smile.

Peter points at one of the folded pockets of brie and cranberry. Your cheek quivers as you glance between him and the man at his arm. You recognise Tony Stark too but not so intimately as the younger man.

"Brie and cranberry with rosemary," you answer at last, "and bruschetta on dried rye."

"Goat food," Tony muses as Peter takes a pastry and bites into it with a hum, "try not to get any on that jacket, it's Versace."

"I had my own jacket," Peter argues through a full mouth and grins at you, "thank you."

"You're welcome," you utter as he licks his lips and Tony nudges him.

"Happy's hiding somewhere," Tony's voice trails off as you part. 

The appetizers jostle in your shaking grasp and you put the tray down before they can start to fall. You thought your new job would keep you squarely away from your number one patron but somehow, he's found you again. Not that the phone calls ever stopped or the friend requests.

One Tinder date and you’re hounded by this creeper. At your job, on the subway, even as you were shopping for your weekly groceries.

You told Marissa when she set up the profile without your permission you don't like strangers. She called you a prude and announced the match. That was the first time you heard the name Peter Parker.

You lift your tray and make yourself finish your path. Celina will know if you linger too long and she already docked your tips last night for spilling a glass of pinot. As you went along with your offerings, you couldn't help but feel wandering eyes following you.

You return to the kitchen and tell Chelsea to do the second course of hors d'oevres as you help prepare the main entrees for after the seating. You can't help but ponder on Peter's association with the Tony Stark. You remember on your one date he talked about a lab and Mr. Stark but you didn't think too much about it.

Great, your personal pest has friends in high places. You roll your eyes and resign yourself to getting through the night. He's a guest and you're working, you have very good reason to avoid each other.

✨

After the main, you help clear the tables with the first line of servers as a second comes to set out desserts. You left your stacks of dishes with Patrick at the sink and excuse yourself for your allotted two minute pee break.

As you push through the door into the hallway, away from the party room, you skid to halt. Peter leans against the wall as he looks up at you, an object twiddled in his hand. You squint and fall back into step. 

He stands quickly and blocks your path as he smirks. 

"Working hard," he says, "I was wondering why you left the smoothie shop. No one makes em as good as you."

"Can't you take a hint? Peter, I have two minutes before I gotta get back," you sigh.

"What did I do?" He face falls, "I been tryna figure it out. I thought I was nice."

"Peter, it's just not… meant to be--"

"You know," he looks down, all but ignoring your statement. He toes with the green leaves bound together with a red ribbon, "I always thought it was a funny tradition," he raises the mistletoe and you watch it as he steps toward you, "probably because I never had anyone to kiss."

"Stop, okay? I'm working--"

"Just a kiss," he pleas, "come on, I waited so long for just that."

"No, Peter, for the last time, leave me alone--"

You shove him but in an instant you're stumbling as he grabs you and twirls you around. You hit the wall and turn to face him, back against the deep blue paint. 

His eyes are dark as he lifts the mistletoe overhead and approaches you. He grabs your chin. He's stronger than he looks as your jaw aches. He leans in and shakes the bunch so the single bell jingles.

"It's all I want for Christmas, baby," he breathes so that it glosses over your lips and makes you whimper, "all that I'll ever want."

[fishsticksloser]

Christmas Don't Be Late

Warnings: Harry Choi, swearing, angsty

A/N: as someone in my Harry discord server said, "H.ot A.nd R.eally R.eally Y.ummy" Why are my Harry ones so long?

𝓜𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽

You're neighbors were all gone, off to spend the holidays with their families. All except Harry, he was still at home. How did you know? Your bedroom and his bedroom had windows that faced each other and he was sitting in his chair next to the window, reading. As the handsome man he was, you wondered why he wasn't spending time with anyone. Although, it didn't make sense for you to be home alone during the holidays either, but that was because your family went in vacation.

You rush back downstairs to check on dinner. You had decided to make a small Christmas dinner for yourself, though you looked at it now and you had too much. Maybe you should invite Harry. It sucks being alone during the holidays.

You made sure to keep the food warm and you bundled up. It was a short walk, but it was freezing outside. You stepped out and were immediately hit with the cold wind, snowflakes dancing in the breeze. You walked over to Harry's house and knocked.

"Hi." You said as he answered the door.

"Hi." He answered, his eyebrows furrowed I'm confusion.

"Um..." You mumbled, he was pretty intimidating in person. "I made dinner, but I made too much for just me and I didn't want you to be alone, it's Christmas after all... I was wondering if you'd like to come over for dinner."

"Sure." Harry shrugged, grabbing his coat.

You both walked back to your house, stomping your feet on the porch to get off some of the snow. You both walked in, pulling off your coats, and you led him to the dining room. You rushed to the kitchen to grab everything, it wasn't much, but you hoped he liked it.

"Thank you." Harry said, giving you a half smile.

"You're welcome."

*̣̥☆·͙̥‧❄‧̩̥·‧•̥̩̥͙‧·‧̩̥˟͙☃˟͙‧̩̥·‧•̥̩̥͙‧·‧̩̥❄‧·͙̥̣☆*̣̥

You both sat on the couch, hot tea in your hands, just chatting.

"Why are you still here for the holidays" Harry asks.

"I could ask you the same thing." You shrugged, sipping your tea. "My family went on vacation"

"Hmmm..." Harry hums, he glances at you.

"You?"

"My family has never really done anything for the holidays."

"Don't you get lonely?"

"I like being alone."

You've never seen anyone come and go from his house. Was it always that way? How could he stand being alone all the time?

"Do you have any friends?"

"Not really, none that I'm close to."

"Do they not invite you out?"

"They do."

"Why don't you go?"

"We're not close, like I said."

"You can't get close to people by avoiding them."

Harry doesn't answer. He moves a little away from you. Fuck, now you've hurt his feelings.

"That's true." He finally says. "But I don't really like getting close to people."

"Not all people are bad, though." You point out.

"Why give someone a chance to hurt you?" Harry questions.

"Why not give someone the chance to make you happy?" You shoot back. He looks at you, his eyebrows furrowed. "You'll always be disappointed if that's what you expect. You aren't giving anyone a chance to get to know you and have fun."

Harry is left speechless again, this time he has no rebuttal. You were right after all. But he felt he'd already burned those bridges.

Teo hated him. He didn't care for Jay after what happened the last time the 3 of them hung out.

But what about Zen? They'd gotten along somewhat well, Zen claimed Harry reminded him of someone else. Jumin

Tain?

Malong?

You? You've been his neighbor for almost a year and you'd only spoken one other time.

"What if I already burned those bridges?" He asks.

"You can always rebuild." You answer. "If you want, you can start with me. Maybe build up to the others."

"Thank you... Again."

"Merry Christmas, Harry."

"Merry Christmas."

[sisterdivinium]

I assumed it was the case with your joining the fandom early, don't worry! :)

The increase in participants in the Discord server you were in is an interesting phenomenon (perhaps more interesting still that it has died off since then...?) Sometimes numbers can really, well, do a number on people. I've heard of users trying to get a conversation going in a non-avatrice ship-specific channel only to be "left on read", as it was, when there had been previous activity there for that pairing. I think feeling like you're talking to yourself can take a toll -- and yes, Discord servers can get so inflated that I wouldn't think badly of people who just up and left for something more private with that small group of fans interested in the same thing they are; I know I wouldn't much appreciate getting a billion notifications from an avatrice channel or a general channel that ended up discussing them just for one or two messages every six months in the subjects I'm actually interested in (granted, I refuse to participate in any fandom Discord servers. Not my thing. I'm a message board and Livejournal/Dreamwidth woman at heart, lover of many paragraphs and exposition -- always have been and always will be, haha).

"It's also entirely possible there are full communities of shippers for those other pairings in their own private Discord servers that I don't have access to."

Definitely, I'm trying to take that into account in thinking about all of this. An anon mentioned how there's a lot of love for Alba when I tend to see more of it for Kristina in the places I frequent, which really drives home the idea that we might just never really see the big picture at once, that there are nooks and crannies we are just not allowed into. Who knows, maybe there's an underground alternative WN ship community in some godforsaken mailing list (alright, maybe not a mailing list, lol, but just something that isn't in the public eye -- and used by people who might not be interested in or aware of the fact that some of us are over here on Tumblr right now, for example).

I'm right there with you in the Subtext Club. That's always been my default position regarding ships in fandom as well (and it was never a bad place to be -- frustrating at times, but certainly a lot of fun). No idea if younger generations of fans who didn't go through that (who never even heard of Strikethrough, for instance... Oof) have a different perception of what they "can" ship now that there are canon f/f couples, constant cancellation of their shows notwithstanding...

The script idea is intriguing! Without those fans to give us their point of view, it could at least point at some more theories on what went on with them and the other ships...

And I get you about WN blowing up. There's always a bit of a bittersweet sensation when these things happen, I think; while recognition is always good since it enlarges the pool of like-minded people we can potentially reach out to and fangirl with, it is also always a double-edged sword as drama emerges, the mood shifts and certain things that were possible before just aren't anymore (like, say, people interacting with some of the cast and crew on Twitter more often and directly). Pros and cons to everything...

And hey, you're more than welcome to stop by!! I appreciate your contribution, regardless of how active you still are in the fandom or not. Definitely gave me food for thought -- and for anyone else brave enough to read this whole post, I should hope!

You know, for a show with so many female characters that so many of us love given how they all get time in the spotlight one way or another and they fill that time up rather wonderfully since they are deeper and more developed than what we're used to seeing in general media, it is peculiar (to say the least) to see so few "alternative" ships to the main one.

I'm not saying the canon ship doesn't deserve its attention -- I'm wondering instead why the canon ship and it alone seem to guide the WN fans who just so happen to enjoy writing/reading fic or fanart or whatever.

You'd think all these cool women would inspire more ships or combinations thereof, but those of us who aren't invested in avatrice just... Float along, around one another, ignored (and, yes, mostly undisturbed too; being unpopular does have its advantages and that includes a lot less weirdos leaving you strange or awkward messages -- it does not, however, shield us from people flooding our goddamn tags on AO3 with fic that has nothing to do with our little ships and I do wish such negligence of the pairing itself meant we didn't have to deal with this spam...)

I am also not saying that fandom activity should be based solely on shipping (and recently someone on Reddit was rather confused by the fact that a lot of it is, which is quite an interesting topic to discuss in itself -- after all, there is more to fan creativity than shippy fic... Or there used to be), merely that, here, it appears that a canon relationship can outshine interest in the other, non-canon ones. It's already there and it was doubtless well-done by the show, so it's natural that it should claim people's attention, sure. It's just that being canon was never the parameter for whether people were interested in these or those two (or more) characters maybe being involved and trying to explore what that could mean through fanwork.

There has always been a complaint haunting fandom spaces concerning the minuscule amounts of f/f fic, art, discussion, w/e based on how few (interesting or sympathetic or relatable) female characters there are in media at large. So what I'm curious about is why fan creations made around WN -- a show that finally gives us a whole cast of female characters that are what we have been craving for decades -- don't also reflect its diversity.

There are alternative ships (I'm here, all happy in my tiny Doctor Superion bubble, and I know there are Camila/Lilith, Ava/Lilith, Mary/Shannon, Mary/Lilith shippers out there, so a warm hello to you if you're reading this), but go on AO3 and compare the numbers of things tagged with these proper pairings to the grand total of WN stories. Better (or worse) still, do so with the "otp: true" trick or simply by excluding avatrice from the search to see how many are left.

It's... A considerable difference. And a mystery, at least to me.

[sailxrmxrs]

this was meant to be hurt comfort mild angst but then my brain decided no let's make the onion boy suffer. pls enjoy some nightowl and onionthief love triangle, unrequited love type vibes. loosely based on some discord thoughts about the possibility of onionthief falling for mc during nightowl's route. thanks discord for the inspo and the meals.

Another evening finally arrived, a day of working having dragged through your entire being, exhaustion seeping under your skin. You could feel the weariness settling in the form of a stiff back and a pain at the nape of your neck as you deposited the too-tight work shoes and the same blazer you always wore into the office. One day you'd be free of that soul-sucking finance job, but until that day came, you were merely a slave to the system. But, small victories could be found in the online webcomic you'd discovered all those months ago. Escapism incarnate as each update releases. Then, of course, you'd since joined the server and met the little community of fellow Blooming Panic lovers. Right from that first day when Nightowl had welcomed you in with open arms through a video call, you'd felt right at home amongst them all.

Naturally, as the days began to pass, bonds started to form. Nightowl and Onionthief in particular were more active members engaging in copious chats about university life. Most nights ended in the three of you being left alone on the server, chatting away until Nightowl asked to video call. Onionthief usually opted to log off at that point, not that Nightowl ever seemed to comment on the matter. If you ever brough it up, Nightowl would simply brush it off.

"Don't worry about Onion. He's too busy studying to join us. In the meanwhile, why don't you and I have a little fun?" He questioned, pulling a mystery bottle into the camera's view—no doubt filled with Nightowl's preferred alcoholic beverage of choice.

"Surely if he's studying then you should be too, hm, Nightowl?" A raised eyebrow lifted as you scrutinised the grad student on the other side of your screen.

"You wound me! How could you mention that word to me?" He teased, playing along with your playful jabs.

Your hands raised in a display of innocent questioning. "Hey you brought it up first. But don't you think we should invite Onion in here one night? I feel kind of bad leaving him out like this."

Nightowl scoffed, waving you off once more. "Don't worry so much! You're too cute to frown."

Rolling your eyes, it was your turn to admonish Nightowl and his advances. His casual flirting caught you off guard at first but by now you were used to it. Mostly, anyway. There were still little comments here and there that sent a fluttering of shivers down your spine. And Nightowl was fully aware of the fact, leaning closer to the camera with that smug grin on his face, scanning for any signs of a blush or nervousness in your smile. His intense stare had the pair of you descending into a fit of giggles, the voice channel filled with pure, unadulterated joy.

Meanwhile, however, entirely unbeknownst to the both of you, there was still someone lingering in the server, a spectator to the blossoming love story. Onionthief had set his status to invisible, feigning logging off, when in reality he couldn't tear his eyes away from the sight of your discord icon sat with Nightowl's. Couldn't help the pang of pain that struck deep within his chest, cleaving a crack in the bone and flesh. He hadn't meant to fall so hard, or so soon. He'd never even felt like this before about anyone—let alone about a person he had never even met. In fact the only reason he knew what you looked and sounded like was because of a misunderstanding.

It was another quiet night on the server, only Nightowl, Onionthief, June, and Quest online. June was sharing a new fanart she'd discovered; Quest was lurking while he worked; Nightowl was complaining about his boredom. Onionthief himself was contemplating logging off until he heard the familiar ping of a new login. And, just his luck, it was you. He typed out his greeting, trying his utmost hardest to ignore how his heart rate increased, how his fingers started to tremble ever so slightly. But before he could hit send, Nightowl's excitable greeting popped up first. Your reply came soon after along with a invitation to video call. Of course, you had greeted everyone in the server and so Onionthief had thought, for a moment, that perhaps you were inviting him too. So he joined, greeted by the familiar face of Nightowl, whose grin quickly dropped to an unapproving scowl when he registered who had also joined.

"Nightowl, play nice," an unfamiliar voice chimed, a new face appearing on Onionthief's monitor. "Hi, Onion! I didn't expect you to join but welcome. It's good to finally put a face to the name."

Onionthief was dumbfounded, unable to gather his thoughts. He'd already been falling for your encouraging words and joking remarks and now you turned out to be the most beautiful person he'd laid eyes on.

"Yeah. It's, uh, good to see you too. Am I interrupti-"

"Yes. You are," Nightowl interjected, his face flashing across the screen once more.

"Nightowl! I'm sorry, Onion he's being difficult. We could always call another time without a certain someone bothering us?"

Onion stumbled on his words, fingertips shaking against the hard plastic of his computer mouse. "Sure. Some other time, maybe. Uh, bye." He didn't even wait for a response as he hung up and shut down his pc. His cheeks were aflame with embarrassment and self loathing. How could he ever think you'd want to speak with him? Nightowl has it all: good looks, personality, intelligence. Sure, Onionthief liked to argue and fight him but at this point it was all jealousy. Nightowl had friends, a social life, someone who was interested in what he had to say. And what did Onionthief have? Stress, work, a social life so barebones and bland it barely constituted as being social.

And now, days later, he watched those same two icons chatting away while he remained invisible. To them, to everyone else. Even to himself. He knew it wasn't healthy to do this to himself. But he deserved it, right? He was the villain in this story, after all. The antagonistic force seeking to jeopardise the happiness of its main characters. No, Onionthief was not a main character in this love story. Perhaps one day he might be granted that pleasure. But, until then, he would remain relegated to the sidelines where he must watch on as those around him fell in love, found themselves, lived fulfilled and enriched lives while he could only yearn, hope, dream. Maybe it was time to close the screen and stay offline. Besides, who was going to notice?

[blissfulbqrnes]

We Were Both Young

summary; the drink server with the nice smile and pretty eyes catches your attention when he definitely shouldn't

warnings; swearing, love at first sight type thing, readers annoying sister interrupting shit, a cameo from all the one direction boys, nothing really just yet

word count; 1k

note; this is a series I've been wanting to publish for quite some time, it's heavily inspired by love story by Taylor swift (one of my favorite songs ever). like romeo and juliet with a much happier ending. please send feedback rather it be through asks or reblogs, constructive criticism is always welcome. one-shot requests are open but be sure to check out my boundaries on my navigation before.

series masterlistadd yourself to the taglist

You breathed in through your nose, the warm summer air sending a bit of relief throughout your body. Being outside was much better than sitting inside being bombarded with drink offers, hugs from people you haven't seen in fifteen years, or the smells of overly expensive cologne and perfume.

The bright lights from the large chandeliers were bright in contrast to the gorgeous star-filled night sky. Father made you dance with multiple suitors tonight, a few of them stepped on your dress or on your feet. The only reason you couldn't rule on your own with no husband, was because you're a woman, and they believe you aren't fit to rule your people.

Truth be told, you could do a better job than all the sorry old men who you knew as your great grandfathers, maybe the discrimination towards women would end if you could change the ways of the people. Keyword, if. Your father simply wouldn't have that.

Before you were caught, you slipped back into the party, but it was just quarter til' eleven, and everyone leaves at twelve. An entire hour left of dancing with dreadfully arrogant pricks who were all thinking they could somehow swoon you and take the thrown from your father.

A tap on your shoulder pulled your gaze from the dancing people in front of you. You whipped around locking eyes with a set of green ones who happened to belong to one of the most gorgeous men you had ever had the luck of seeing. Shoulder-length brown curls that looked soft to the touch, pretty pink lips you could imagine kissing all day long, a cute nose you could press a peck to if you weren't in a full ballroom where you're supposed to be finding a lover.

"Would ya like a drink, princess?" his slow accented voice made it hard for you not to pass out, and the way princess rolled off his tongue was like an eargasm, of course, everyone called you that but the way this man says it is unearthly.

You seemed to be lost in a trance, because the only thing you heard was his chuckles at your flushed mannerisms, "Oh, pardon?" you stumbled on your words a bit, breaking eye contact with him momentarily.

"You must be overwhelmed, do you want a drink?" He tried again, but he didn't ask until he was sure you were paying complete attention to him.

"OH! No thank you." Your voice was louder than you intended and the stranger jumped a little at the volume, "sorry.." You mumbled, scratching the back of your neck. Great job, now you've fucked it.

"No love, you didn't fuck it. Whatever it is. M' Harry by the way." He was smiled now, showing off a far too perfect, pearly smile.

"Harry, mate. You won't believe what this blond babe said to me-" A blond man, you've never seen before froze mid-sentence, dropping on one knee, "I'm so sorry, princess. Please don't fire me! I need this job to pay school debt" You stifled a laugh at his pleading, though his apology wasn't really needed, he was simply trying to chat with his friend about a lady who was probably wonderful.

"Niall, get off the damn floor will ye? She doesn't want your sorry Irish arse!" Another accented voice scolding flicking the blond's ear, two more brunettes followed, "Hi, I'm Louis Tomlinson, these are my mates, Harry, Niall, Zayn, and Liam." He pointed at each of the boys, all (minus harry) of which who waved with similar nervous smiles.

“I have no say in that, he does though,” you pointed in the direction of your suit-clad father. "it is a pleasure to meet you all." you smiled genuinely for the second time tonight.

"The pleasure is all ours." Liam countered, a charming, yet bashful smile on his stubbled face. Zayn and Niall nodded at his comment, they all clearly were interested in pay raise of some sort with how they were treating you.

"YN! Why are you conversing with the help?!" Your slightly younger sister, Annaliese whisper shouted, tugging at your glove-covered arm in the direction of the bustling party, "Mother has been searching for you all over." She tutted pulling you away from the boys, but more specifically Harry.

Hopelessly, you looked back, eyes catching the sorry looks on all the other boys' faces, locking eyes with Harry again almost cinematically, he looked like a sick puppy, but unfortunately, you couldn't do anything about it.

Louis clapped Harry on the shoulder, "you should've definitely swooped on that one, mate." He mumbled pinching Harry's reddening cheeks. "She's here to find a suitor t' night, y' know?" Zayn informed, looping his arm over Liam's shoulder.

Harry slapped his hands away, punching Louis in the side, and flicking Niall's forehead, "I would've if this dense bastard was paying attention to the person I was talking to, but this "blonde babe" story couldn't wait five more minutes. Really Zayn? It's almost like that was on the flier in town."

Niall grunted out an apology and something about going to get another plate of drinks to serve, Liam and Zayn following swiftly behind him.

"You like her already, H? You 'aven't lashed out about a girl like that since Kendall," Louis murmured, searching his best friend's face for if he was truly right. Though Louis wouldn't need a rocket scientist to figure out how he was feeling, the boys have all known each other since they were twelve and there weren't secrets between them.

At first, Harry didn't know what to say so he nodded, but after a few moments of silence between him and Louis, he began to explain "She got so nervous talkin' to me. The princess got nervous talking me!"

Harry’s brain was swarming with thoughts of you, the beautiful dress you were wearing, your pretty eyes, lips that are perfectly full and plump, the way you got anxious speaking to him, and just everything that made you, you.

tags; @kissmyaxe140 @kennedywxlsh @harryguapito @avocado24

[anarchiststories]

happy torture

c!jschalttx reader

summary: schlatt loves you so much he can't help but miss you, even when you're gone. warnings: depressive themes, suicidal themes wordcount: 1.5k notes: poor guy just wants to be happy :( masterlist

He stared at everyone from beneath his balcony, expressionless. He felt nothing. Absolutely nothing. To be surrounded by people, so lively and happy, but to feel nothing? It was practically torture.

He couldn’t figure out how to do that. To be happy. Smile. Go on with his day. Talk with those people. But to have others mill around him and be happy go lucky? It was as if everyone was mocking him and his suffering.

He felt lonelier without you. You could understand him. You always understood his pain. His desire for a working society. His confusion on happiness. His loneliness in a world of wrong people.

You were his right person. You always had been, his person in the life of misfits. And now you were gone.

He twirled the once heavy bottle with a hand, watching his wrist bend along with the movement. A glint of gold caught his eye, attracting him back to his wrist. His empty hand grazed against it.

A golden watch sat there, and your initials sat in the middle. It used to be something he looked to for comfort; something he needed when he was going over the limit his brain would allow. Now it was something that lay mocking him, as if expressing how terrible of a person he was.

He knew he upset you, and gods, he would go back and change it if he could. You made his days so much better – you showed him that he did have a meaning in this world. He used to watch you walk around and talk with his old friends-

Oh. His old friends. He nearly forgot about them.

One by one, everyone he knew and loved died or left. The friends he’d grown up with all left him one by one. First it was Travis, then Cooper, then Charlie, then Ted, and finally… someone he couldn’t remember. All he can recall is just the feeling of them all leaving, one by one, and he couldn’t stop the heartbreak this his heart felt.

He traveled land after land, server after server, trying to find people that could give him the same feeling his old friends did. It never worked; he tried so hard with so many people, until he met someone special.

Until you.

He had wandered into the DreamSMP one day, horizontal pupils carefully watching everything around him. He noticed a colorful poster of a man on the front with wide, exaggerated arms and expression. A bright array of colors backed him, as if trying to express the power the man had. It felt… welcoming, as if he’d seen it before.

His furry ear twitched, hoofed feet clicking against the stone and wooden pathways as he walked. The ram hybrid followed the pathways and posters, glancing between each poster with somewhat nervous eyes. He was in a new territory, after all.

It wasn’t often that he felt like this, though; intimidated by standing in front of the enemy. He looked behind him – he really didn’t have anything to lose at this point in his life. Fear was a thing of the past for him. It was something that he was afraid of when he was young, yes, but now, in his older years, he’d lost the unconscious will to carry the burden of his fallen friends.

The ram hybrid stared at the sight before him; a tall brunette man, a tall blonde teenager, a fox hybrid, a woman with black hair and blonde bangs, and a brunette ram hybrid. He did a double take on the other ram hybrid – he swore he recognized the boy in front of him.

“Will! Tommy! Toby! I’ve got some news for you!”

A new persons voice cut into his thoughts, as if beckoning his attention to look away from the teenager. The person held a bag to their chest, holding it out for the brunette man – he’d later learn that this was Will, real name Wilbur – who took it with a thank you. They turned, whispering something to Wilbur who turned to him with arms wide.

Just like the poster, he noted.

“Hello! I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you around – are you new, perhaps?”

“Yeah, I am. Schlatt, JSchlatt, at your service.”

He offered a charming smile, teeth not yet tainted by the copious amounts of alcohol he would soon begin drinking. His beard (or mutton-chops as he liked to call them) were neatly maintained and gave him an appealing appearance. He took the hand extended to him before offering it to the other person – to you.

You nervously squeezed his hand back with a soft laugh. “Think you could show me around? I’d love to have someone as… stunning as you help me.” Your cheeks flushed at his compliment as you glanced back to Wilbur who nodded. With a smile, he extended his arm for you, which you took happily as you began explaining the details of the land nearby. You used a hand to exaggerate things, and it made him smile.

He’d ask you questions and you’d answer them with excitement, the brightest smile he’d ever seen light up your face. His heart warmed at every smile, every giggle, every glance – you were just… perfect to him.

He came over every day for the next few months, letting you show him different parts of the world nearby or show him different foods and so forth. It was the best part of both of your days and it was something that the both of you swore you’d be heartbroken without.

Turns out, you were both right.

The few times you couldn’t make time was because of the wars occupying L’Manburgs lands, and even then you still tried to get to him. He always reassured you that it was fine if you missed a day or two but you still worried despite his reassurance.

He was there for the loss of your first canon life. He remembers it like it was just yesterday.

You laid on the battlefield, holding your stomach to prevent yourself from bleeding out as you reached towards him. You had a sad smile on your face as you whispered to him. “Please… don’t worry about me, dearest. I’ll return to you but in a day, I swear on the gods.” He clenched your hand in his, holding you closer against his chest with a sob.

The next day you returned with a smile, eager to tell him about more things across the land that he’d by chance stumbled upon.

You were there for his first canon death. Though you don’t remember it as well as he does.

You, like Toby, were a L’Manburg spy inside of Manberg. You didn’t want to be a spy, honestly, but Wilbur forced you. With you being closer to him, Wilbur was able to figure out how they were going to execute the plan to get their country back.

You stood at his side, as his equal; Tommy was jealous, saying that you were just a knockoff him to Wilbur. Wilbur, being the ever caring big brother-type of person, shot down Tommy’s comment, stating that you were a top-secret spy and that you were doing your job perfectly.

You watched the fireworks go off – the way that they split Toby’s head clean open before hitting your supposed enemys chest. The bright, happy colors of the fireworks stood out against the dark red blood and fleshy pink of him as you cradeled him in your arms.

It was a traumatizing moment for everyone included. Once he was back, he told you everything.

He knew. Everything.

He knew that you were Wilbur’s spy and that you weren’t on the side of Manberg. He knew that you’d been feeding Wilbur information. He knew that Toby was a spy too, but he’d disregarded that early on.

He also knew they you were in love with him.

“It’s like a fable,” He once claimed, swirling a glass of whiskey in one hand as he glanced to you from across the room. “Two people from different sides of the road, destined to never be together or even be mere acquaintances and yet they still fall in love, despite everything pushing them apart. Poetic, is it not?”

You pushed yourself back with a soft giggle, shaking your head. “You’re a funny man, Schlatt.” He glanced you up and down before setting his glass down and taking a step towards you. A second step. A third step.

He stood above you, one hand coming up to caress your cheek. His tongue darted out to wet his lips as leaned down. His eyes shut as he swallowed his fear, leaning in and pressing his lips against yours. You reciprocated the kiss with a smile dancing on your lips as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

Now, a year later, he stood on the balcony of the white house, expressionless. Every emotion he normally felt had been drained from his body. He should be happy – this was a party for him, after all.

This was his party and yet he couldn’t find the spirit to even feel an little bit of happiness.

© anarchiststories 2021. do not copy, steal, or translate my works, under any circumstances.

[toomanyfandoms02]

The Mission // Spencer Reid x Reader

Sooooo this was SUPPOSE to be a blurb for @andiebeaword BUT it ended up being much longer than that, my bad.

Summary - Spencer and Reader must act like a married couple at a party in order to get information on a hitman. They may do more than needed to prove being a married couple.

Word count - 2.7k

Prompts - "If we die, I'm going to kill you." ~~~ "You have a dirty mind." ~~~ "These heels are peeling off my **skin**. But yes, keep complaining about your tag you whine ass." ~~~ "Wow, I can't imagine being that rich! How old are his kids, maybe I can date one."

It was a well-known fact that I loved partnering with Spencer. We could always joke around and make eachother feel better, even when working the bad cases. But I feel like this was a little ridiculous.

"Are you shitting me?" The words slipped from my mouth so easily, which I immediatly regretted. Spencer gave me *the look* and elbowed my side.

"I'm sorry Y/n, you and Spencer are the two people who are the most compatible to seem like a couple, and we need hard proof before we arrest him." Hotch explained with his usual amount of enthusiasm.

None.

"Hotch, this guy is dangerous and we will be in there without vests, is what I believe y/n is trying to say." Spencer leaned back in his seat, flipping through the mans file.

"We will have sharp-shooters pointing through every window at him in case anything gets out of hand. This is non negotiable." And with that, he left.

"Well, clearly we have no choice." I stood from my seat, flattening my skirt. "I'm gonna go home and get an outfit ready. You aren't wearing that to the party either." I pointed to his outfit.

"What's wrong with my outfit?!" He scoffed, hugging his sweater vest.

"Okay, one, this isn't some dingy hole in the wall. And two, even if it was, you don't go to a nice party looking like someone who has 3 PhD's in the first place." The smirk on my lips grew wider as he feigned offense.

"Fine, I'll find something nicer to wear. I'll pick you up at 7 and tell the team to meet us there." I agreed and left the conference room a little grumpy, quickly making a bee line to the elevator before anyone could comment on my mood.

-

I stared at the 3 dresses in front of me. They were all the same style, but different colors.

White, yellow, and olive green.

I wasn't sure why I was having so much trouble picking a *color*. I always say that I dress for myself, which is what I was trying to do right now.

Right?

I totally wasn't thinking back to that conversation I had with Spencer a few weeks ago.

-

*"Y/n!" Emily looked at me with surprise. "You look so beautiful in white! Why don't you wear it more?" She was right, I never wore it. Me and Penelope were pretty known for wearing many colors, mine just had to be paired with a black skirt.*

*"I'm so clumsy." I laughed. "I live in constant fear that I'll spill coffee on it. Hence why I'm not holding a cup of joe."*

*"I agree with Emily, you look nice in white." Spencer chimed in. "You know the psychological meaning of white is purity, innocence, wholeness and completion. In color psychology, white is the color of new beginnings, of wiping the slate clean, so to speak." He then took a sip of his coffee.*

*"Yeah well I don't know about the innocent part." I giggled, looking to Emily who gave me a shrug and nod. Spencer choked a bit on his coffee. "You alright there Spence?" He saluted me and headed to his desk, which put me and Emily into a fit of giggles.*

-

I reluctantly grabbed the white one, silently hoping that I was less of a klutz tonight.

The satin dress slipped on me easily. It came down to about 2 or so inches above my knees and had thin straps. I paired it with some semi-transparent heels and called it a day. I put on a little heavier makeup to look the part. Foundation, winged eyeliner, blush, highlight, and mascara. Lastly, I tied my hair up in a simple straightened pony-tail.

By the time my indecisive ass was done choosing everything, it was nearly 7 and I knew that Spence would be early. My heels clicked as I walked on my wood floors, heading to the front door. Getting there just in time to hear a knock. I must have startled him by opening it so fast because he stumbled back a bit. He wore a nice white button up and tighter pants than usual, paired with nice black oxfords.

And then he just stood there.

I waved my hand in front of his face.

"Hi!" He shook his head a bit. "Hello there, back to Earth I see. Do you wanna come in and have a glass of water before this whole event, since you are," I leaned back into my doorway to look at the time. "12 minutes early?"

"Oh, yeah sure." I cleared the way so he could walk in. I shook the heels from my feet, taking me down at least three inches before stepping into the kitchen. I grabbed two glasses.

"Do you want ice?" I turned to him, he was sitting at my island. He just shook his head. "Okay." I laughed, putting ice in mine and just filling his with water. The glass clinked as it hit the island in front of him. "You're pretty quiet, are you okay?" The tips of his ears reddened.

"Yeah! I'm just a little nervous, you?" He swiftly brought the water to his lips, guzzling it down like he hadn't drank anything in days. He then stood up.

"Of course I'm nervous." I came around to his side of the counter and swooned into his arms. "But I'll have a great protector there." He smiled down at me with a shake of his head, standing me back up.

Now it's time to head out.

-

We pulled up to the location in Spencer's Volvo, which was incredibly nice to ride in. ~~and I would love to get use to riding in it~~.

"Okay, I have one thing to fix with your outfit." I turned to him before we exited the car. His eyes narrowed at this comment. I leaned forward and unbuttoned two buttons. "Now you look like your going to a party."

"Thank you expert. Stay in the car, I'm going to open your door, the bouncer works with him and we have to go all out on this act." He nodded his head at the bouncer a few yards away.

I wish this wasn't an act.

He opened the door, offering his hand. I took it with a gracious smile, interlacing our fingers. We walked up to the bouncer, who had an ipad with the guest list in hand. Penelope had hacked into their list and added our names, well fake names.

"Mr and Mrs. Adler." Spencer spoke as I leaned into his side. The man scrolled through the list, he tapped our names and opened the door.

It opened to a large room, filled with dozens of people. I leaned up on my tippy toes and whispered into Spencer's ear.

"If we die, I'm going to kill you." I pulled away with a smile, patting his shoulder. His Adam's apple bobbed while he gulped. "So, what's this guys networth, I mean he seems pretty damn rich to throw a party like this." He looked down at me quizzically. "I know you know what it is, I'm sure you have researched him extensively. So what is it?"

"6.2 million dollars." He recited, looking towards the crowd, scanning for the man in question.

"Wow, I can't imagine being that rich! How old are his kids, maybe I can date one."

"Be careful what you say, someone might think we are suspicious." He pulled me into his side, kissing the top of my head.

This night is going to be agonizing. "There he is." We made our way to him slowly, stopping at small drink stations. Just as we were about to get to some seats near him, a server came up to us.

"Hello! Welcome. Would you guys like anything?" She handed Spencer a very small menu. I could see the slight confusion in his eyes. It was truly a weird thing to do at such a big party.

*Salad*

*Potato Soup*

*Fruit Bowl*

*Veggie Bowl*

"I'll have a salad, and the lady will have a fruit bowl." He pointed to the seats we were on our way to. "We will be over there. Thank you." He put his hand on the small of my back, leading us to the seats.

"How did you know I wanted a fruit bowl?"

"You bring some kind of fruit cup to work every day, I'm observant." Right as we were about to sit down, another couple took the seats, not even noticing that we were heading there.

"Well damn. I say we stand next to his table until our food gets here, then we go to the other corner of the room and observe, then we catch him making the deal." I led him to the space by the table. After just a few minutes of waiting, the young lady who took our orders he returned, holding a small bowl of salad and a fruit bowl.

"Have a good night!" She chimed, how can someone be so happy with so many people around?

We ventured to the other side of the room, I grabbed two glasses of champagne from another server on the way. I peered at Spencer over the skinny glass, he was staring at his salad.

"What, is there something wrong?"

"Why is there so much white stuff on it? It's not ranch, I know what ranch looks like." My giggle was muffled slightly by the glass.

"That's what she said." He raised one eyebrow. Then a look of realization came over his face.

"You have a dirty mind." He mixed together the salad to distribute the 'white stuff'. We subtly stared every once in a while over at the mans table.

His name was Anton Todd, but his customers called him Ton. He was someone who frequently assassinated people. He was a hitman to be exact. We had an outside source tell us that a new customer would be coming in to request business, so we could kill two birds with one stone.

So far the man we knew as Cole Kamargo had not come to ask for Antons *services* yet. We had been standing in this corner of the room for a while, just watching him. That's when I caught his eye.

His gaze was terrifying, it struck me right through my soul, and I just couldn't stop looking. He squinted at me, tilting his head. Spencer shook my shoulder.

"Y/n, stop staring at him." It was like being lost in someone's eyes in the worst way possible. I watched as he stood from the table, making his way over with a sour look on his face.

"Shit shit shit shit." I mumbled as he got closer.

"Shit is right. Do you trust me?" I kept my eyes on the man.

"Of course." He grabbed my hips, pushing me against the wall behind us and kissed me hard. He trailed his left hand up to the back of my neck, holding me there. I gasped in surprise, leading him to slip his tongue in my mouth. Meaning we were full on making out. I pushed my hands into his hair, gladly accepting the kiss and sighing into it. Suddenly, Spencer was pulled from me. And there he stood.

Anton.

"Tell your girl to stop fuckin' staring at me." He spat, glaring at me.

"Sorry sir, my wife has ADHD, she zones out frequently." He rushed to my side and pulled me into his side protectively. Anton rolled his eyes and left the area.

I looked up at Spencer, his cheeks were a deep shade of red, and he was touching his lips.

"Thank you. Also, you're a good kisser." I remarked, nudging his side a bit. He looked down at me with wide eyes. "What? Am I not allowed to compliment your kissing? It's good!" I laughed heartily, looping my arm into his.

"Ditto." A smile grew on his lips. I could get use to this. Spencer noticed an available seat near us, so he sat patting his lap.

"Excuse me?"

"Come sit on my lap!" He chuckled.

"I'm glad your getting use to the idea of me being your *wife*." I sat on his lap, leaning my head back onto his shoulder. My hands made their way to the heel of my foot, slightly slipping my shoe off. "These heels are from Satan I think." I rubbed at the sore skin.

"My tag is itchy." Spencer pulled at his collar, relieving the so called *itch*.

"These heels are peeling off my **skin**. But yes, keep complaining about your tag you whine ass." He turned his head to me, kissing my cheek.

"I'm sorry, I can put some neosporin on it when we get home. I mean, when we get-get you home." He stuttered, the tips of his ears once again turning an extravagant shade of red. I kissed his jaw.

"Thank you *baby*." We were then interrupted by a woman next to us.

"How long have you guys been married?" The lady leaned over the booth, a ring was clearly shown on her finger.

"8 years." I answered quickly, before Spencer could say a contradicting answer.

"Wow! You guys look so young to be together so long. How do you guys keep it so... so beautiful?" She tilted her head at the question.

"What do you mean?" I asked, reaching my hand into Spencer's hair and playing with it momentarily.

"You seem so in love. You act like teenagers, I don't think I've looked that in love with my husband since we first met." She huffed.

"You just have to find someone who's easy to love." He leaned his head on mine. "I've never had a doubt in my mind that she was the one." The words stuck with me, I felt like they would be embedded in my soul for eternity.

"I think I need to get a divorce." She sunk into the seat, I watched as her husband come back and sat with her, she gave him a weak smile.

"Okay, we need to leave this area before we become homewreckers." I whispered, pulling him to his feet and fleeing into another direction. "We must be amazing actors." I laughed nervously.

"Yeah, actors." He murmered, but before I could comment on it, I saw Cole making his way to Anton.

"Spencer! It's Cole!" I screeched quietly. We discreetly made our way near the table, quickly catching the conversation and relaying it to Hotch.

Cole spoke of the horrible things he wanted done to his wife, it made me sick.

"FBI, get on the ground!" I pulled my gun from the left holster that Spencer had for me. I couldn't exactly *hide* a gun on this white dress. Spencer pulled his gun as well.

"We have you surrounded by sharpshooters aimed and ready to fire, so I suggest that you comply." Morgan came in soon, cuffing the both of them and leading the men to cars.

We now remained outside, sitting on the stairs of the large building.

"I enjoyed being your husband for a night." Spencer laughed, nudging my shoulder.

"And I enjoyed being your wife." I played with the fake ring on my finger. "Okay. Fuck it. Did you mean any of the things you said in there?" The words spat from my mouth quickly.

"Like what?" His voice was shaky.

"Like, that you never had a doubt that I was the one. Or was that part of the act. I would totally understand if it was, you're an amazing actor if it was because it honestly had me believing-" He put his finger to my lips.

"Yes, I meant it."

"Thank God." I grabbed his jaw with both hands and brought him to my lips. He smiled into the kiss, deepening it. His hands ran up and down my back slowly.

"I wouldn't mind doing this every day." He remarked, gesturing between our lips.

"I wouldn't either pretty boy."

[bewaretheidesofmarchyall]

Hi! I follow you, and you're reblogging a lot of Dream SMP stuff, and I googled what the plot was and I didn't find anything so can you tell me the plot?

Alright

I covered the plot of Season One here:

https://bewaretheidesofmarchyall.tumblr.com/post/635954614437593088/hey-i-really-like-minecraft-and-used-to-watch

So, here’s what happened in Season Two!

Ranboo arrives! He’s half-enderman, he has amnesia, and he’s new in town!

Tommy and Ranboo broke George’s house, which gave Dream a flimsy excuse to build enormous obsidian walls around L’Manburg

In order to get the walls taken down, Tubbo is forced to exile Tommy

So, Tommy is sent away to Logstedshire, and becomes depressed (The fact that Dream shows up every day to destroy his things and emotionally manipulate him doesn’t help)

He comes very close to taking his final canon life, but he realizes what a terrible person Dream had been to him and runs away from Logstedshire to live in Technoblade’s basement

Speaking of Technoblade! He’s getting executed!

The Butcher Army (Quackity, Tubbo, Fundy, and Ranboo) decided that he needed to pay for the whole “releasing withers into the city and leaving into the night” thing

They were unaware that Technoblade had stopped his violent ways and was just living a peaceful retirement in the arctic with his favorite horse, Carl.

So, the Butcher Army shows up and threatens Carl to get Technoblade to follow them back to L’Manburg

They attempt to execute him with an anvil, but unbeknownst to them Technoblade had a totem of Undying

With Dream’s help, he escapes into the night after killing Quackity with a pickaxe.

Techno is greeted with a surprise when he returns home to find Tommy living in his basement. He decides to team up with the kid, and shows him his giant vault of wither skulls with the iconic line “Welcome Home, Theseus”

Meanwhile, the Butcher Army starts planning how to kill Dream at the next festival

Oh! There’s also a giant maximum security prison now!

And a mind-controlling alien parasite called The Crimson!!

There’s a lot of subplots

But we’ll skip to the Green Festival, where Dream does not die

No, the only things that die at that festival are L’Manburg’s chances and Techno and Tommy’s friendship

Basically, Dream blew up the Community House and blamed it on Tommy, then used it as an even flimsier excuse to get Tubbo to surrender the final disc (one of the things Tommy cares about the most in the game)

Tommy, who was watching the entire thing invisibly with Technoblade jumps in and fights with Tubbo, upset that he would even consider handing over his discs

However, he has a moment of self-realization, and he lowers his weapon, telling Tubbo to give up the disc

Despite his words, despite even some of his actions, he’s always going to choose Tubbo.

Tommy leaves Technoblade and joins up with Tubbo again, which Technoblade is obviously not a fan of.

Sadly, once Dream has both discs, there’s no reason for him to keep L’Manburg around, and he tells the crowd that the country will be destroyed tomorrow

They prepare for Doomsday

Dream, Techno, and Phil show up the next day

L’Manburg doesn’t stand a chance

The city is destroyed with withers and replicating TNT, and all that stands is a crater and one flag

That was four days ago

What comes next?

Tommy is still determined to get his discs back, mostly because he needs to focus on that or he’ll have a breakdown

Tubbo is dabbling in mad science, and blames himself. He’s made a new house that could one day become a country of its very own once Dream isn’t around to screw things up. 

It’s called Snowchester

Technoblade is back to vibing in the arctic after destroying a country. Still feels betrayed by Tommy.

Ghost Wilbur was very upset by the destruction of L’Manburg, since he was the one who owned the most stuff there. He wants to be brought back to life, which will be attempted today!

Phil has taken Ranboo under his wing and given him a place to stay, since he helped blow up his old house. Phil is also trying to bring back his son, Wilbur, from the dead.

Ranboo is not doing great, but he’s coping. He has a panic room, and has been needing it a lot lately after he was revealed as a “traitor” (it’s complicated). Currently living in the arctic with Phil and Techno, though that could change.

Quackity still may or may not be possessed (it’s complicated), but he’s cut ties with L’Manburgian government and is really trying to kill off Dream (but with diplomacy)

Fundy is also trying to kill off Dream, after he sabotaged the Anti-Doomsday effort and is having a corruption arc of his own. He and Ranboo are not that good of friends any more.

Niki burnt down the L’Mantree. She’s at an unstable part of her character arc, and isn’t doing great. Currently teaming with Jack Manifold.

Eret is a noble and kind king, and they’re the only one really doing okay here

Jack Manifold went to hell (He got better!), and now wants to take revenge on Tommy.

Callahan mourns the Community House

Sapnap has reconciled with Tommy, and fought on the right side of history for once

I think Punz is still a spy, but I’m not sure about that one

Captain Puffy is alright, I think.

George still wasn’t there for Doomsday

The Crimson grows

And Dream? Dream has finally destroyed L’Manburg. All that’s left for him is to destroy Tommyinnit once and for all.

Everyone on the server wants to kill god (and by god I mean Dream). The only problem is that everyone is really bad at teamwork.

If every person on the server actually works together, I think they can take Dream down and be free to live their own lives, complicated as those may be.

That’s the only hope at this point.

(Finally, Purpled played Bedwars instead of showing up to Doomsday)

If you have any other questions, please ask! I wasn’t able to cover everything that’s happened on this server, so if you want to know more about certain characters or theories, my ask box is always here.

Thanks for reading!